This is the hard part

My father called this morning to tell me about a conversation he had had with Number Two Son yesterday. My Dad and Number Two have a very special bond and therefore he has been privy to many secrets but this was one he felt he had to share and break the grandparent/grandson confidence. Of course, it was something I already knew about all too well. Number Two has been bullied by the same child since we moved here four years ago. It seems to ebb and flow but we have already had one conversation this year with the teacher which resulted in all the Grade Five boys having a meeting with the teacher to talk about the situation. The school has a very strict anti-bullying policy and they spend alot of time discussing the issue. But there is a real herd mentality amongst these Millennium babies, one that we have not experienced with our older son's group. Number Two and his friends are very aware of what and who is cool, they worry about clothes and hair and what they are doing and how they look doing it. They are all on facebook and because I monitor our son's friends closely I have already had to intervene in one on-line relationship with a girl who he sees only on weekends at the ski hill but who had invented an entire relationship with him including multiple break-ups and reconciliations, all posted on her Wall.

The bullying at school takes the form of teasing and put downs said to other kids about my son. But it has escalated to spitting on clothes such as his sweatshirt and laughing at him when he unknowingly puts it on. Number Two cares deeply about what other people think (don't we all?) and although I have tried to tell tell him that he is smart, cute and good at so many things, only what his peers say really matters at age 10. The herd mentality rears its ugly head and everyone in the class would rather go along with the bullying than risk being singled out themselves, my son included.

We are having another meeting with his teacher who unfortunately Number Two does not seem to like very much and I have talked to one of the Behavioural Specialists at the school who is a close friend who I thought he might be willing to talk to. Now I wonder whether I should call the parent of the bully whom I know (it is a very small town, of course) and ask her if she has heard anything about what's going on from her son? Will that backfire in my face? It might. Would I want to know if one of my sons was a bully? Yes, but having tried this route with another parent about an issue with another child, I know how different one's perspective can be regarding their own child. No one wants to think that their son or daughter is anything other than a kind and caring person. I don't believe that these kids are bad, they are just behaving in a very Lord of the Flies way. A leader emerges from the group and whether he or she guides the group in a positive or negative way determines what happens to characters like "Piggy."

I want my son to know we are doing something to help him but I also know know he is super sensitive and I want him to be able to stand up for himself and not care quite so much about what other people say and do. I have never been an over-protective mother, I like my kids to figure stuff out for themselves and learn the skills they will need to survive in life. But I hate seeing any one of them being hurt.

Grandfather of the Year

Yes, I know we are only two weeks into 2011 but I would like to nominate my Dad for the Grandfather of the Year Award right now because I don't think there is anyone out there who will top him.

Thank god for my Dad. I have always know that he was special to me and the boys and to my Other Half but this weekend he went above and beyond the call of duty. He is a grandfather extraordinaire.

It all started on Wednesday night at about 10:30pm as I was talking to my Other Half. He was staying in the city for 10 days during the boat show and I was about turn out the lights when I heard something. I hung up abruptly and ran out to find Number Three Son emptying the contents of his stomach somewhere between the hall and the bathroom. He had tried to make it to the toilet, he really did, but there was no point in getting there now since we'd have to wade through his dinner of spaghetti and meat sauce which now coated every surface. I lifted him right into the tub and went in search of my decontamination kit. Set him back into bed with a bucket and towel nearby and went in search of stray bits of pasta which had somehow found their was into every corner of the upstairs landing, coupled with bits of tomato and peppers. I may never eat Italian again.

The poor guys threw up every hour that night even though there was nothing left in him by 1am. He is such a trouper - just rolls over to be sick then rolls back to sleep. In the morning I settled him with the bucket and towels in my bed to watch TV and got Number Two Son up for school expecting a fight as Number One was staying at a friend's house and would be missing school to ski for three days while training for a race. But Number Two surprised me and got up and ate a little breakfast then, while I was checking on his brother, I heard him say, "Mum, I'm going to be sick." And so it began. They were both down for the count. I kept them separated at first but then I was going crazy running up and down the stairs so I gave up and put them both in my bed with their buckets. Number Three was exhausted but over the vomiting. Number Two continued and they both had it coming out both ends at one point (and we wonder why people shake their heads at the whole "Mommy Blogger" phenomenon?) I continued to load and unload the washing machine all day and scoured every surface the boys had come into contact with.

By Thursday night both had calmed down and I actually got a good night sleep. Friday morning everyone (sans Number One who I had told to stay put at his friend's so as not to enter the Plague House) was up and seemed to be okay. I tried to convince them to stay at home but as it was a P.D. Day there was no way they were going to miss out on skiing. We headed to the hill and as I ran back and forth between race courses we seemed to be back on track until it was time to go home. The boys (Two & Three) wanted to go to their grandfather's house to hang out while I went to a memorial service for a friend's father, Number One was still AWOL and apparently going paint balling. So we headed to my Dad's where I decided to have a bath and relax with a copy of People magazine. About 20 minutes later I knew something was wrong. I had openly defied the gods and said, whenever anyone asked how I was doing, "I'm a mother, I don't get sick."

I left my Dad in charge and made a dash for home where the rest of the night disappeared in a haze of fevered runs to the bathroom. The worst part about hanging over the toilet in this situation is you can't even make any promises that you'll never drink again. And no one deserves this after spending 24 hours cleaning up after sick kids.

But back to my Dad, as my sister said, "He woke up Saturday morning with purpose." He had the three boys Friday night, got them up and to the ski hill the next day, took them their lunch, cheered Number Two on from the bottom of the race course, took Number Three over to a friend's for a play date, came home and helped Number One sharpen and wax his skis. Brought me ginger ale and magazines and kept them for a second night.

But to top it all off, Number Two decided to sleep over at a friend's house and in the middle of the night felt sick again and ended up being driven to my Dad's. As the mother who took him home said, "Waking anyone up in the middle of the night to bring home their child is bad enough but bringing him home to his 70 year old grandfather's? Let's just say, if it was anyone other than your Dad he would have had to tough it out." So my Dad continued on, got the other two up this morning and to the hill in time for Number One Son's race, drove number Two home to me and then will go back to the hill in time to get Number One to his hockey game this afternoon.

Late tonight their father will be home and I'm not sure whether I will tell him what has been going on (he still doesn't read this) because I know he will feel so guilty for being away through it all. There aren't very many women I know who can call on their fathers for this kind of support. Last weekend he drove three hours to watch Number One's hockey game and standing at the bottom of a ski hill to watch a 45 second race is tough on him in particular as he has Peripheral Neuropathy which is an incredibly painful condition and makes walking and standing hell. The physical pain is bad enough but my Dad climbed Everest and wrote a book and gives speeches about his experience so it is even harder on him to admit that he is becoming more and more disabled by it.

My Mum, who is also wonderful but lives an hour and a half away would have come to help but would probably have thrown up her hands at the ski/hockey schedule and said they should all just stay home and watch TV. (That's one of the reasons why I never excelled in competitive sports. Well, that and lack of talent.)

So I hope we are through the worst of this bug and that my Other Half and Number One Son won't succumb. I have disinfected, laundered and even thrown out some clothes which I couldn't bear to put in the wash. We are normally a very healthy family, my boys never miss school because they are sick. My only wish after all this is that my Dad doesn't get hit with it but he swears he hasn't thrown up since his fraternity days in the early 1960's.

Maybe I just need to shake things up a bit

In between loads of laundry and emptying barf buckets for Numbers Two and Three Sons I took a moment to wander over to Lulu's blog which I have only recently discovered. It is so pretty and stylish but what I like most about it is the way she writes. Literally. She writes sort of in a stream of consciousness that runs down the page like a waterfall. The way it looks make you take notice and the words she uses to describe her addiction to paint or the January blahs is wonderful.

So maybe I need to shake things up over here. I have mostly been posting photos and haven't sat down to write anything lately. Well, to be honest, I haven't written much since last summer. I was beginning to fear the blogging muse had left the building permanently but maybe it just checked out for a while to give me time to think about what I want to do with this space. I have been reading more design blogs lately and still visit my old favourites - Harried Mom, Kyran at her new spot, Planting Dandelions, as well as Nesting Place and Hooked on Houses, to name just a few.

But maybe the way to go is the stream of consciousness method, sort of like Random Tuesday every day. Most of the creative writing books and classes I have read and taken advise you to sit down and just write. Every day. Whatever pops into your head. I have a lot less time these days. Hockey, volleyball, ski and boat show seasons are in full swing which means I'm on my own running from school to rink to hill at least four days a week. And I am working two days a week from 10am to 6pm. My Other Half is away and while my Dad is a Super Hero when it comes to looking after his grandsons my biggest fear is that one of them will be left somewhere, waiting to be picked up and I will have forgotten to put him on the schedule. I now have four different calendars going. One on the fridge, one at my desk, one on my phone and another on my computer. Overkill? Perhaps, but it is the only way to keep all the balls in the air.

So rather than trying to sit down and plan out a post and then abandon it halfway through because it's not going the way I think it should, I will just write. And I'll still post pictures and hockey game scores and ski race results, in case anyone is interested.

A New Years Resolution (sort of)

My Dad and the Group of Seven

I know I have been a terrible blogger these last few months and despite my few and far between postings I still managed to have finally made it up and over 100 followers, a personal goal of mine set a while ago after hovering at 99 for what seemed like years.

And while I am not making any promises about regular postings, I will attempt to be more reliable for those who do stop by every once in a while - in between getting kids to the ski hill, hockey rink and work during these cold, dark days of winter while my husband is away hitting the boat show circuit across the Northeast.

So, in the interests of bringing a little sunshine into everyone's day here are a few photos from our family trip to Naples, FL for Christmas. It was a special one organized by my Dad and the first time all seven cousins had been together since the youngest was born a year and a half ago. We lucked out on the weather, it warmed up the day we arrived stayed that way until we left.

The whole famdamily

Snorkelling at John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park (not John Mellencamp, as I kept referring to it) in Key Largo (I hope my brother will send me more of his underwater photos, especially the one of the kids chasing a 5 foot Black Tipped Reef Shark!

They came to bury PJ and to praise him.

Number Two Son spent hours practising skim boarding

(Here he has lost the board)

They kayak and yak, yaked.

They were the Alligator Hunters

(100's of them were out soaking up the rays after the cold weather)

They went in the Gulf which was not very warm, even by Canadian standards.

More photos to follow one of these days.

We're Off - from Snow to Sand

It feels very strange that a week before Christmas I do not have stashes of presents hidden throughout the house. I have resisted the temptation to put stocking stuffers in the grocery cart and I have wrapped a grand total of five presents, three for teachers and two for my mother. One more sleep and we are off to the sunny and hopefully warmer south, although with the weather very, very "White Christmas" here, anything will be an improvement. I can't say how secretly happy I am that our snowblower wouldn't start when we got it out of the garage for it's first blow of the year and there has been no time to get it fixed. Luckily our neighbour has a son in the business and I am able to get in and out of our drive with ease. My pioneer woman spirit only extends so far and digging the wood pile out to keep the fire going on the fifth Snow Day so far as well as packing down a path with my snow shoes for the dog to be able to get out and do his thing is about it right now.

We did put the tree up two weeks ago and I have enjoyed it. On Monday Number Two and Three Sons and I sat in front of it most of the day watching movies and making crafts. We baked, well actually we made Candy Cane Bark which is technically not baking but is the most delicious thing ever. And when the power went out at 8 o'clock we lit candles and put another log on and read Christmas stories from Laura Ingalls Wilder. That was a Christmas miracle in our house and as the wind howled outside the boys and I felt like we were living in the Little House in the Big Woods, cosy and warm by the fire. Of course at midnight when the lights all came blazing back on I was more than happy to move the two perpetual motion machines out of my bed and back into theirs.

Number One Son and my Other Half have been away for the week at Mont Tremblant, Quebec for some father/son time and it has given our eldest a chance to be a little more independent away from his brothers. Something I hope will help him as I encourage him to do a French Exchange programme next year for two months. He would go to France or Switzerland in the spring of 2012 and we would have a student here next September/October. At first I thought Grade 8 was a little young but the reasoning is that the students won't miss as much academically as they would in high school and also they won't be as inclined to go over and party at age 13 and 14 (I hope). It would be a fantastic opportunity for him and something that is very near and dear to my heart. Language is my thing and most days I feel like I have very little influence over my sports-loving, brother-bashing, video-gaming sons. Number One is the reader in the family like me and he is already quite good in French after spending the first four years of school in French immersion. I would love for him to really solidify that skill and quiet frankly, we would all love to be able to go over and visit him, hopefully in the Alps, for Spring Break 2012.

But for now off we go to a place where instead of snow there will be sand and the palm trees are covered in millions of white lights. They say nobody does Christmas quite like Naples, Florida so I promise to take lots of pictures. Have a wonderful holiday everyone.

My question is what do we do with the rest of the white stuff for the next three months?

I am torn

I am not sure what to do about Christmas this year. Number One Son and his father will be leaving to go to Mont Tremblant, Quebec to ski with his team on December 12th and then they join Numbers Two, Three and I in Naples, FL on December 19th. We will be leaving on the 17th to spend our first Christmas down south with my Dad, my brother and sister and their families. We will be home on Boxing Day, the 26th in time for the boys to begin their season of ski racing but the question is, do we put up the tree?

We will have so little time before we leave and then, of course, we will come home to a half dead tree with needles every where and I will be the one who has to put everything away and clean it all up. For what? My Other Half was at a trade show this weekend and so we could put it up this week but then the weekend after we are staying at my Mum's to celebrate Christmas with her, four days later we head south. Am I a Grinch for not wanting to go through the hassle?

Number Two with Santa's Marching Band - Christmas 2000

Yesterday Number Two Son found his Santa hat to wear to school and started to rip through all the boxes to find his favourite Playmobile Santa sleigh and reindeer. I lost it when I saw the mess but I know how much he has always loved playing with the decorations. And on Saturday night I went to a party at a home that was decked to the halls and that coupled with some snow on the ground I know I can't not get out the Santas and the wreaths. And even though there might be a few needles to sweep up when we get home I think we will all appreciate coming home to enjoy Christmas for another week or so, at least until after New Years.