Ode to an Outdoor Kid

Bruises, bruises everywhere.
Muddy face and messy hair.
Blackfly bites and thicket scrapes,
Open wooden garden gates.
Sandy feet under sprinkler hose,
Wipe the droplets off your nose.
Beginning glow of sun-kissed skin.
Slimy mud to throw stones in.
Rubber balls and hula hoops,
Plastic buckets, sandbox scoops.
Bird's eggs, toads and millipedes.
Picking flowers, sowing seeds.
Chase the cat with shrieks and laughs.
Trip and stumble on the path.
Bare feet tear through grassy lawn
Til at last the tell-tale yawn
Of energy that's wearing thin,
A sign it's time to head on in.
Soapy scrubbing, towel dry.
Crawl in bed to close your eyes.

Nature vs.Nurture

I've always found the argument of 'nature versus nurture' to be really interesting. I'm for and against a lot of things on both sides of the argument, so I couldn't say which one I agree with more, though raising Toby in exactly the same environment as my sister and I were raised has turned out to be an interesting experiment.

Most of you know, my parent's live in the country. We have a 30 acre property and about a half acre piece of dirt that we cultivate with vegetables every year (mostly my Granny and Opa's doing, who live next door.) We have two tractors, one big and one small. We've always had animals of some kind; when I was little we had chickens, cats and a dog; currently we have three cats who live outside. We have a bush with a stream and walking trails. We have wildlife regularly walk through our yard.

My sister and I could have cared less about the tractors when we were young. We were told to stay out of the way if Opa was mowing the grass or snow blowing, but that was about it. I tried to learn to drive the tractor when I was maybe 12 and I hit a tree and never wanted to do it again. I had my own vegetable garden, but it got forgotten and dried out half way through the summer. I loved our cats, and my sister and I played with them constantly.

Toby on the other hand, living in the same house with the same people around and the same routine, took an intense fascination to the tractor each time Opa drove around in it. This turned into pointing out every tractor on every farm on our way to and from town. Which turned into me needing to learn the names of a whole host of farm equipment so I wasn't just saying 'tractor' to everything that moved.
Tractors evolved into construction equipment. Construction turned into carpentry tools.
Yes, I encouraged Toby's fascination, but by no means did I force it.
I also encourage him with different kinds of sports and activities outside, but it always comes back to wanting to sit on the tractor or hit something with a stick or a hammer. Including our cats, which despite my best and loving efforts is still a problem. Yes my sister and I chased them around, but we never wanted to terrorize them the way Toby seems to think is fun.

People say 'Oh, it's just cause he's a boy. Boy's are like that.'
Alright, well my boy also regularly asks me to tie pieces of fabric or bath towels around him to make a dress. He asks to have his nails painted when I paint mine. He runs up to my mom while I'm cooking dinner and exclaims "Gramma! Mom is just making a FABULOUS dinner. You should SEE!"
Today he was eating carrot sticks when he declared that "This one looks like a pony! I'm not going to eat it, I'll save in in the fridge."
And 10 minutes later began telling me how he was going to chase a mouse behind a tractor and BAM it with a hammer.
On the way to town now he'll comment on the BEAUTIFUL HORSIES, and then THE HUUUUGE TRUCK WITH A TRAILER THAT HAD AN EXCAVATOR ON IT!!! in the same breath.

I feel like, yes, he is a very stereotypical boy, I blame genetics; but he's also been nurtured to understand beauty and nature. He's naturally very quiet sensitive, but he's also has a natural rage that rears it's ugly head from time to time.
So it's hard tell, where does the effects of nature stop and the effects of nurturing begin? Are we nurturing our kids to be their acceptable 'self', or are we trying to nurture them into what we think they should be like?

I encourage dance and yoga, as much as I encourage soccer and hockey. He likes them all, but is clearly not interested enough to be an Olympic athlete. And maybe I do have a secret hope that he'll end up on So You Think You Can Dance Canada Season 20, but I know it's not likely to happen.
Based on now, what seems likely is that he'll end up doing carpentry, at least as a hobby. He'll be a good cook even if he's not a chef. He could run his own farm one day if he keeps up the interest.

But again comparing to my sister and I, I was always the tomboy and my sister was the princess diva...and in the end I'm the one who went to school for fashion design and she's the one who gets excited over parasitic cat testicles.

You can do any amount of encouraging and your kid will still rebel against you. Nothing is ever expected.
Hopefully Toby finds a way to vent his aggression properly and is at least ingrained with the knowledge that he can be whoever he wants to be.

Old

Outside today, weeding the garden, I very suddenly felt....old.
Not 'old' in the sense that my joints hurt or my knees popped when I stood up...Just...oldER?

Toby was playing beside me and we watched Opa (my Opa, Toby's Great-Opa) drive into the back yard to get a trailer. Toby said he was going to see what he was doing, I said sure.
He was gone for ages, so I checked around the corner to see things were ok, and he was waving Opa back to where the trailer was and then helped hitch it up, and then Opa put him in the car to drive through the field with a load of junk.
In the last few weeks I've let him do 'independent' things that I never would have dreamed of letting him do this time last year. Mostly because I know he's not going to go careening off the bridge, or trip over the front step now.
So, anyway, Here I am standing in the middle of the yard wearing slush pants over my pajama pants, with grubby skater shoes, a sweater, a scarf and a touque. An outfit I wouldn't be caught dead in a few years ago. An outfit I may have rolled my eyes at my mom for wearing.
And I'm watching my son walk away rom me to do another project and I don't feel a sense of panic that he needs to be supervised. I'm just....ok.
And it lead to this sudden feeling of feeling 'old'.
And then I'm thinking, maybe it has nothing to with age really, but more a sense of confidence.

I'm so used to feeling like I'm grasping at straws, both as a person and a mother. I had a kid right at the moment in my life where I was realizing that my adult-self was a different person than my teenage-self, and then I had to suddenly discover my mother-self and my single-self on top of all that.
So maybe I just feel 'old' because I finally feel confident that I have this thing figured out.
Maybe I'm feeling grown up because Toby is growing up and I don't feel tied down because I have to lug him everywhere. Maybe I'm feeling gown up because I feel like a mom, and not just someone who's raising a kid.

The wind blows around my legs, and I can't feel it because I've chosen to wear slush pants over my PJs. I smile to myself that I've made a good choice and kneel back down in the dirt to keep weeding.

The Evolution of a Box

Toby has a box.

My dad bought a two drawer filing cabinet for his office and promptly tossed the box down to the living room for Toby. Toby promptly crawled inside.

I wasn't crazy about the box because it took up a lot of space so there was no where for it to 'live' when we wanted to clean up.

Because of my impartialness to it, I didn't take very many photos of Toby playing with it. Now I wish I had. We took a few videos, so I screen capped from there for this blog.

The box started out as just a box. A cave. Toby threw all his toys inside and then dragged them all back out again. He loaded it with Duplo or blocks and crawled inside with them saying they were all snuggling in bed.

Then we figured out that the Duplo blocks fit perfectly through the handle holes in the side.

The box was now a mail truck and the Duplo were packages that he had to deliver. He said he lived in his mail truck and once in a while he got out to 'drive'. mostly he just filled up the green tub with 'mail'.

One day my dad walked though the kitchen, found a knife, and walked back out. How could I not follow?? He cut a small hinged window in the top back of the box so Toby could peek out. I rolled my eyes, not wanting to give Toby more of a reason to keep the box, and also not wanting Toby to think it was ok to cut the box up, because it was a good box, and heaven forbid it got a crease in it....

The window opened up a whole new world of games. Stuffed animals could now fit through. Blocks that didn't fit through the handle holes could now be chucked out the window as 'compost'.  Sadly I don't have a picture of the window, because I resented it at the time, but Toby had so much fun with it.

The box also became a climber. He'd climb from the couch onto the top and then slide off the side. I kept warning him that the box would collapse, but it didn't for a long time. Eventually the corners of the box got soft and it wouldn't support his weight anymore. Lack of structural integrity gave me hope that we could soon get rid of it.
He used it as a house to hide form the Tickling Dragon (me), and we put a big blanket over top so he'd have a door. This game went on for so long I was considering hiding the blanket, since it was easier to hide than the box. All the blanket covering and chasing and trying to fit mommy inside the box made the sides of the box even more creased and softer.

But the softened edges just meant that the whole box was more flexible, and so it became a rolling barrel.

Days and days and days of doing this all over the living room. You'll notice the white tape all over it too...My mom helped him fix something on the box one day, which lead to him needing to put tape everywhere. 

The box turned into a craft board. He took blocks and scissors and dragged them along the corrugation to make small tears and lines in the cardboard. I opened my mouth to tell him not to do that several times, when I thought, the sooner he wreaks it the better.

Then it occurred to me that the reason I wanted him to stop destroying it, was because he was having so much fun with it and if it was wreaked there would be no more box entertainment...
So cutting and taping continued. One day I was cleaning out out art basket and he found some markers and dragged them and some paper into his box. I suggested that he could just draw in the box if he wanted to. He looked at me blankly for a minute and then proceeded to make cave-art with gusto. Once in a while he'd tentatively ask if it was ok that he used green marker in his box. I said Go for it, it's your box. He'd grin and dash away again.

The box had been rolled in and coloured on so much it was beginning to get really soft. Toby would stand the box up and ask to be put in it so he could curl up on the bottom. I'd bury him with pillows and he'd pop out. We'd put a blanket on top so he was 'trapped' in a big hole.

Eventually he tried to use his box as a climber again. But of course it wasn't strong enough, so it folded in half. Toby would leap off and 'pop' it back up. this was fun until it became so creased that it wouldn't pop back anymore. So then he crawled over the back, and used it as a slide.

And a lounge chair.

He tries to crawl inside once in a while, but the box is so flat now that it just looks like it's eating him.

 Today we used the box as a 'Toby trap', but it doesn't stand up very well. I'm thinking the next step will be more crafts... drawing and cutting and painting on the box.

As much as it's a big thing to have in our living room, it provides SO much entertainment. Almost every game we've played for the last month involved the box somehow. He curls up on it with pillows. He drives his cars in and out. I've almost forgotten what we played with before the box showed up.

I'm not sure whether to be relieved or afraid that we have another filing cabinet box now, as well as the box his tractor came in...

The sentiment is used so much that it's become cliche but really: All a kid needs is a good box.

Why?

A list of some of the conversations I've had this week...

Me: Hmm, can't get the smudge off my windshield
Toby: WHAT SMUDGE?
Me:...Just a smudge...I think it's on the inside. I can't get it when I'm driving.
Toby: But WHY is is on the inside??!?!
Me: Well I couldn't get it with my windshield wipers, so i guess it's inside. Probably from when I was washing the car.
Toby: Why did you leave a smudge there??!?!?!
Me: Because I guess I wasn't being careful.
Toby: But WHY weren't you being caref-
Me: MOMMY'S DRIVING
-----
Toby: Why is there a point here?
Me: Because that's what hearts look like when they're folded in half. There's a rounded end and a pointed end.
Toby: But WHY?!?!
Me: I guess that's just what a heart shape looks like
Toby: But WHY does it have a point??!?!
Me: Bedtime, goodnight.
-----
Toby: Why don't I have a hat on in that picture?
Me: I'm not sure! Maybe you pulled it off.
Toby: Why?
Me: I don't know, you were a baby.
Toby: But, Why was I a baby?
Me:...........Because.... you were...
Toby: Why did I take my hat off?!??!!?!
Me: LET'S TURN THE PAGE
------
Toby: Is that dress for me?
Me: Um, no, I'm making it for the craft show. Maybe someone with a little girl will buy it.
Toby: Why isn't it for me?
Me: Well, for one thing, you're too big for it now. It won't fit you.
Toby: Why won't it fit?
Me: Because you're getting bigger! You're a big boy now.
Toby: Well, someday, when I'm smaller it will fit me!
Me: Well, it doesn't work like that. You're just going to keep getting bigger, like Mommy.
Toby: Why?
Me: Because that's the way life works.
Toby: But I mean SOMEDAY.
Me:..................................................................
-----
Toby: Where's that tractor we saw?
Me: We saw that tractor in the field a few days ago, I don't think he'll be there now.
Toby: Why?
Me: Well, I'm sure his work is all done, and the farmer is probably having lunch now anyway.
Toby: Why is he all done??!??!!!
Me: Because I don't think plowing the field takes three days to do, plus he was almost done when we drove by before.
Toby: But I want to see him.
Me: I know. Just keep your eyes open you might see another one.
Toby: But, Where's the blue one we saw before?
Me: I already said, probably back at the farm, and I'm not sure which farm that tractor belonged to.
Toby: Why?
Me: HEY I LOVE THIS SONG *turns radio up* Want some water Toby??? Cracker??? Anything????
------
Toby: Where's Grampa?
Me: Dunno, maybe outside?
Toby: Why is he outside?
Me: Not sure, I can't see him.
Toby: Why?
Me:....Because we're inside.
Toby: But I want to know what Grampa's doing.
Me: Well we can take a look out the window, but I don't know if we'll see him.
Toby: Why did he go outside?
Me: I don't even know for sure if he IS outside, he might have gone in his car.
Toby: WHY DID HE GO IN HIS CAR???
Me: Maybe to get groceries.
Toby: Why??!?!?!
Me: Because we have no food.
Toby: YES WE DO
Me: We have some food, but maybe Grampa's getting more.  I don't even know if that;s what he's doing!! I'm just speculating!!!
Toby: WHY ARE YOU SPECUTATING?
Me: BAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
------
Toby: (while playing on the bathroom floor while I wash my hair) Hey mom?
Me: Yeah?
Toby: Don't forget to wash your breasts.
Me:....................................thanks.............

Still Alive

Geez, I can't believe it's been two months since I've blogged. I just feel like nothing very noteworthy has happened and every time I think about blogging, something else preoccupies me.

So, anyhoo, I'm still alive.
Toby is still 3.
Toby is still not toilet trained, nor does he want to be.
I still cook stuff.
Toby still eats stuff. Lots of stuff.
I still haven't updated my food blog :(
It's still cold outside.
Toby's still allergic to egg, and probably gluten.
We still have three cats.
Our bird feeders are still up.
Our entrance way still consists of winter boots and coats, along with flip-flops and sun hats. Oh, Canada in the Spring..

Things That Are Different:
We finally put together the John Deere pedal tractor we got a year ago. Toby is now the property manager.
I have a job! One day a week at Jack and Maddy downtown Orillia.
Toby is easing out of his 'terrible' stage, and seems really enthusiastic about almost everything.
We've started play group and yoga classes so Toby (and me) can be more social.
My mom got a new computer, so I now have a computer desk to myself, while she moves to the other side of the room and my dad's stuff moves upstairs. The place is a mess, but it's going to be awesome.
Yesterday Toby and I started our first batch of seeds for the garden! We're indoor-sprouting lettuce, watercress, spring onion, peppers and lavender so far. Tomatoes and herbs to come. And then the rest of the garden will be the beginning of June.
I have some projects on the go that will hopefully get more underway as the year goes on, if things work out I'll keep everyone updated.
I'll be a vendor at the Spring Shopaganza at Westmount Church in Orillia, Saturday April 21 from 9-4. Cloth gift bags, girls adjustable dresses, sleep pillows and cloth books. Come buy stuff.

Hopefully it won't be so long until I post again!

Toilet Training Tribulations

I know boys take longer than girls.
I know that you shouldn't start too early or too late or it backfires.
I know it takes patience and perseverance.
But I'm sick of trying to get Toby to use the toilet. Almost as sick as I am of changing diapers.

I probably started introducing the idea of the toilet about a  year ago. He has his own toilet seat. He sits and plays with toys. He never did anything, but at least he would merrily sit up there for a while.
I didn't push it because I still felt he was too young to 'get' it.
A few months later there was a poop-in-the-tub incident, after which I scooped him up and onto the toilet, which collected the rest of it. I made a big happy deal about him sitting on the toilet and using it properly, and he seemed pleased with himself, but the idea didn't stick.
Periodically through the summer and fall I would catch him in the act of beginning to fill his diaper and excitedly exclaim it was time to use the toilet. He'd let me pick him up and bring him to the bathroom, but them more often that not he would just sit on the toilet for half an hour and do nothing.
At this point maybe I should have been more consistent? Made him sit up there several times a day, instead of the odd time when I'd catch him about to go? Not let him just fill his diaper when I was too tired to get out of bed in the morning?
I still didn't want to push him too hard because I was trying to cut back on the ridiculous amount of nursing he was still doing and didn't want too many traumas at once.
I started putting swirly star stickers on a calendar when he used the toilet. It had worked with the teeth brushing. It seemed to work for a while. Twice a week we had a good toilet experience.
But then a few times I'd ask him if he needed to use the bathroom and he'd sullenly say no, and then proceed to fill his diaper.
I'd bribe him with the AMAZING, INCREDIBLE star stickers, and the wind-up toys I had reserved for toilet-time.
He told me he didn't want a sticker, and proceeded to fill his diaper.
I'd get annoyed. I'd sigh. I stopped talking and playing with him when I changed his diapers so that diaper changing wasn't 'fun' anymore.
Nothing mattered.
I'd rant (maybe to myself more than him) that I hated how much garbage we were making and I hated buying diapers and should have used cloth, but really have no patience or desire to clean up after cloth diapers. I's go on about how we wouldn't have to deal with things like diaper rashes anymore because it would be so much cleaner and more fun to sit on the toilet than have this gooey mushy diaper on.
He told me he wanted diaper rashes and stormed away.
I tried the no-nonsense, pick-you-up-when-you're-about-to-poop-and-off-to-the-bathroom-we-go! But that resulted in fits of hysteric screaming and I didn't want the toilet to be about force.

Ok, so he's not ready. I left it. I left everything I had tired and didn't say anything, tried not to scold or roll my eyes.
Nothing changed.
My latest strategy is to make him carry his own dirty diapers to the garbage. If we're in our room, he doesn't have far to go. If we're downstairs, he has to march it all the way upstairs.
The first few times it worked great. He loves helping. A couple times he suggested I do it, and I calmly said that no, I'm done cleaning up the poopy diapers, and if you want to use a diaper then you get to clean it up. If you don't want to do this job anymore you can use the toilet and I will gladly sit with you and help you in there.
It worked in the sense that he diligently marched all his diapers up to the big garbage. However he has only once sat on a toilet in the last two months. And that was only because I fished him out of the bathtub before we had another mess to contend with.
But now.... now he's caught on. And he's fighting back. He screams that I take his diaper away, as soon as I'm done changing him. I shrug and walk away. He screams and runs after me, demanding I clean it up. I try reasoning and bartering with him. I offer to help by bringing the garbage out from the bedroom, but he still needs to please clean it up.
Everyday now we have a blood curdling argument.
I hate it so much, but I feel like I shouldn't give in. I've given in every other time and it's gotten us nowhere. This time I keep saying I"m determined to hold my ground, but is that the right thing to do? Am I really making a negative argument about the diapers, or am I still turning the whole toilet training thing into a fiasco?
Is it worth fighting to tears every day?
Do I just stop and let it go and hope he trains himself by the time he's 5?
Is he going to be one of those kids who never quite gets it and wets the bed for years to come?
Kids who go to school don't still breastfeed and wear diapers right?
Right????