6 months of silence.

Wow. 6 months of no blogging. Only 7 posts for the entire 2015 year so far.

It wasn't an intentional break. Really. I didn't get mad and decide to stop blogging. But we went through some crappy times in December and January and that rolled into March with the fire and the buying of a house and then April and May with the fire aftermath and rebuilding and getting ready to sell the house and then the move and then the renovating and then the school starting and then...

Now, not all of the above mentioned was bad times, but for a while there, I was definitely relying on the ol' adage of "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all". It was bad. I cried a lot. I prayed a lot. Then I cried some more. We definitely felt like we were in the middle of some kind of unmentionable storm. And then, eventually...

Now, life is a bit more settled. We are loving our new home. I'm getting settled into my new school year. The kids love their new school. We are all healthy and happy and really? What more do we need?

Change.

2003:

 2004:

 2006:

 2007:

 2009:

 June 2015:

Putting my money where my mouth is

I'm a great mom. I really am but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Remember this post when I explained that Gavin wouldn't pass swimming lessons? 

Well this weekend, we were at a hotel with a water slide and pool, and then we visited a different water park. All summer last year, I tried to bribe Gavin with toys, money, and/or candy almost daily. This kid would not dunk his head under the water for love nor money. He absolutely refused. He was fine with it. I was frustrated.

So this weekend, when we went swimming the first time, I tried bribing him again. Again, he said no way. Not happening. So I opened my big mouth and made him an offer. I told him that I'd pay him $10 every time he dunked his head. Nope. No dice. 

The next day, we went to a water park and played for a few hours. As we were leaving, Gavin yelled, "Wait! WAIT! I need to dunk my head!" Eli had to go to the bathroom, so I left Chris with Gavin and said, "Good luck." He'd often say that he wanted to do it and then stop, so I didn't think too much about it. 

The next thing I hear, Gavin comes running in, saying that he dunked his head 10 times! Ten times! I laughed! He finally did it. Then he looked at me and said, "$10 a time. That's one HUNDRED dollars, mom!!"

Uhh, yikes! I was so hesitant to pay up until the next day he went swimming and spent most of his time underwater. YES!! $100 well spent to break through that fear. 

So yes, I did indeed pay my son $100 for dunking his head. And I am proud of that fact, but even more proud of my son who will now dunk his head!

The funny thing about a fire...

...nothing really.

Okay, not true. Now that I can distance myself from the event that will always be known as "THE FIRE" there really were a few funny parts.

So, Chelsea's version of the fire was a little harder to get out of her. She really doesn't open up much about it. I think out of all the kids, it definitely hit her the hardest. However, when I finally did get her story, it made me laugh.

So, we have talked lots about fire safety and what to do in case of a fire because it is a huge fear of mine. As a parent, you often wonder how much your kids are listening and taking in during these serious discussions. Let me tell you, she takes it allllll in.

So, quick recap - when I discovered the fire, Chelsea was downstairs, getting ready for bed. After I screamed, I ran to go get the boys and on my way back down, I saw Chelsea running out of the house, ahead of me, screaming.

Later, I had heard bits and pieces, but it wasn't until Monday when I took her to school that I really took it all in. We were late for school and Chelsea's teacher had done a great job of talking to the class, and asking them not to overwhelm Chelsea with questions. However, when we walked in, kids all came up and started questioning her and in a loud voice, Chelsea stops, puts out both hands and says,

"Guys!! I was pooping!"

"I was pooping when mom yelled, 'Fire'! So I just pulled up my pants! I didn't even wipe!"

Oh my, oh my... I laughed so hard. She continued on, using great hand gestures...

"Mom always said that when there is a fire, you just GOTTA GET OUT! So I just pulled up my pants and ran!"



Yup. She wins all the awards.

The Fire

Man, oh man... Where to begin? 

On Sunday, March 8, we had a fire in our garage. I swear it was more dramatic than these few pictures make it look, or maybe it was blown out of proportion in my mind. Either way, it was scarier than you can even imagine.

 

We had BBQ'd earlier in the evening like we often do - Chris pulls the BBQ out of the garage onto the driveway, cooks the food, then puts the BBQ back in the garage to cool down with the garage door open. This way, the garage doesn't smell like cooked food or smoke. Around 7:00, I had gone into the garage to get a garbage bag, saw the BBQ back against Chris' car, and since it didn't smell like smoke, I closed the garage door like I always do. 

We had put the kids to bed shortly after and I was upstairs sorting tax papers and Chris was downstairs sorting business tax papers. (Can I just add here that perhaps this is a sign that taxes really are evil?) and I heard a bang. It wasn't a loud, obnoxious bang or anything, so I did what all moms do... I listened for a few seconds to hear if anyone was crying, then went about my business. Chris had been working on the central vac power head earlier, so I just thought maybe he dropped a tool or a kid dropped a water bottle while sleeping or who knows? It really wasn't significant. 

But then about 10 minutes later around 8:00, I heard a noise that I can only explain as a loud whooshing or roaring noise. I ran to the garage because that's where the central vac main unit is because I thought Chris was doing something in there and it was so loud. When I opened the door, I saw that the garage was filled with piles and piles of smoke and it was roaring. I can't honestly tell you if I saw flames or not, but I slammed the door and yelled, "FIRE!! FIRE!!! Chris!! Grab Chelsea and call 911!" and I ran upstairs to get the boys. 

Both boys were sleeping, so I grabbed Eli and his blanket and propped him on my hip and then went to get Gavin. Gavin was sound asleep, so I was quite rough with him, kind of carrying him, kind of dragging him down the stairs. I saw Chelsea run out ahead of me and she was screaming, so I knew she was safe. I actually had no idea where Chris was, but figured he could take care of himself - I just needed to get the kids out. I really had no idea if we had seconds until something exploded, or half an hour until there was any danger. 

There was still lots of snow left, but we ran across snow banks in our jammies and bare feet to our neighbour's house and pounded and screamed on their door for a few seconds. When they didn't answer, we ran to the next house, but the lights were off, so I yelled at Chelsea to keep running until we found a house with lights on. We wound up meeting some new neighbours as we rang the door and barged in, all screaming and crying and yelling. They turned out to be very nice people. ;)

Meanwhile, Chris was calling 9-1-1 and we figure that the Fire Chief was there within 4 minutes, with trucks pulling in just minutes after. Amazingly fast. I called Chris' parents (quite hysterically) to come and they took care of the kids, while I borrowed shoes and a jacket to give to Chris and grabbed some for myself. I had been standing on the concrete for a while in my bare feet... funny the things you don't notice. 

There were a lot of fire trucks, police cars, firemen and policemen. I was just watching the smoke billowing out from the roof and we had no idea what the extent would be. I knew it didn't matter - that it was just stuff and just a house - but it was so traumatic. And, because I'm no fire expert, I couldn't understand why everyone was just standing around in front of the closed garage door while smoke was pouring out of the roof. We were told that they didn't want to give the fire oxygen and that they could hear the propane tank hissing so I guess they knew what they were doing. Haha. They obviously knew what they were doing as the fire was contained to the garage with very little damage, compared to what could have been. 

All while this was happening, our dog was still in the house! I'm fairly certain I was snippy with the fire chief or whoever I was speaking to. I just kept asking him to open the front door so she could come out! I know now that they wouldn't do that because it could possibly give the fire oxygen, but part of me thinks they just wanted their movie moment of coming out of the house with the dog tucked safe under their arm. ;) It was a glorious sight and made my children stop crying and for that, I am grateful. 

What they figure happened was the bang I heard was the BBQ falling over. No one can really figure out why it would have done that. Even if Chris had left the BBQ on, which he isn't sure he did or didn't, that wouldn't cause the BBQ to fall over. However, he does know for sure that he had left the propane tank open, so then when it fell over, it leaked propane everywhere. 

There really wasn't a lot of flame damage in the garage, although our two Christmas trees did start on fire, but everything in the garage is ruined from heat and smoke. The house was fine and we were even able to walk around and grab some things that we needed like jackets, boots, wallets, purses, my cell phone, and stuffies and blankets for the kids. It was doing this that I discovered that some of the lights weren't working, and then we discovered that the fire had damaged the electrical panel in the garage. Hydro came and shut off power to the house. 

Around 10:00 we were told that we had to go to the police station to make our statements. We kind of just looked around and asked, "How??" Both the van and the car were in the garage. Luckily, our neighbour took charge, took the dog and gave us her keys. At least someone was thinking straight, because we sure weren't. We left our house surrounded by lots of people and flashing lights.

We were at the station for about an hour. When we came home, the garage door was shut and there was no one around. It was like nothing had ever happened. There is no damage to the exterior of the house and really, everything looked fine. It was so bizarre. So, naturally, even though it was 11:00 at night, we grabbed our neighbours and some flash lights and went to check out the damage. I'll do a separate post about that - it really is kind of fascinating. The fire chief came back and we all had a nice little chat and then we headed to my in-laws for the night. (Little did I know, we would wind up spending 12 nights there.)

I snuggled my babies for a long time Sunday night. We know how fortunate we are.

This was a horrifying event that I will never forget. We keep being told that it was a "perfect" fire, if there is such a thing. And again, we know how lucky we are.

But you guys, Let's stop for a moment. I can honestly now say that I carried my children from a burning building, running to safety through snow banks in my bare feet, and I'm not even exaggerating. Not even.

Now, go do me a favour and test your smoke alarms and detectors.

Gavin's version

While I'm working on my blog post, I figured I'd share Gavin's writing that I saw at Parent-Teacher today. I am so proud of this guy, and really he explains it all so well that I don't even have to write a post, right? 

That pretty much sums it up. ;) Also, how awesome is it that my son has written about the fire sooner than I have, with illustrations, nonetheless. I better step up my game.

Eli Overload, with a capital O.

 I'd like to apologize for the picture overload that's about to occur. Some of these photos date back to October but I've so neglected this blog that it's needed. Now, in my defense, most of these pictures are on Instagram, so if you haven't added me, you really should.

Anyways, poor third child syndrome. I sometimes remember to take pictures of him, especially if he's doing something ridiculously outlandish or cute, which is pretty much all the time. He's so stinkin' adorable. It saves him, really. I mean, c'mon...

He is such a stinker. Here, he grabbed the proper tiny screwdriver from the drawer and was attempting to change the batteries in this car.

 And here, he climbed into the chest of extra bedding and just was looking adorable.

 Ooh or this? This is typical bath time.

 Here, he is working hard writing a story. Gavin was writing out all the words he knows, because well, my kids are crazy like that, and Eli did not want to be left out.

 And FINALLY, I have one child who likes cleaning and tidying and doing chores like emptying the dishwasher. Don't tell your siblings dear, but if you keep this up, you will be my favourite.

And just when I think he might be in the running for Favorite Hildebrand, he is constantly doing weird, random stuff like this. Allow me to explain that here, he has assembled all of the pieces of the blender and then filled it with potatoes from the pantry. "Why?" you ask. "Why not?" is Eli's attitude! 

 This melts me to the core. I don't often get to read nap time stories any more. Gavin has taken over and Eli loves it. I still get bedtime ones though so I'm doing just fine.

He loves recycling day. Most days, I stop before I set him on the curb. 

 Most days. ;)

 Wrestling, body-slamming, and general physical contact are things he enjoys in his spare time, especially if it involves the older two.

 Although he does manage to relax in his time off.

 He is passionate and does all things to the best of his ability.

 And he loves to cuddle.

 Play dough is a favourite pastime. Here he is pretending to drink the milkshake I made.

 Remember how I said he does all things to the best of his ability? C'mon! Look at that slurp!

And that catches us up to December... I think anyways. Love this guy so much it hurts some days. He is a ray of sunshine, a ball of trouble, and a perfect fit into our crazy family.

Perspective

 Lately, I've been pretty swamped with life in general. I could go on and list things like my kids, my job, my husband, etc, but we all have our own lists and they are all equally important and  pressing and overwhelming.

And here's what we do... we post pictures of our day. We all do it. Here. I could post this one right now.

I'd call it, "Mmm... coffee in bed." It'd probably get a few likes as we all love coffee, right? Such a good start to our busy days.

Let's zoom out a little, shall we?

Little less coffee in that cup, and a slight hint of chaos in the background. Sure. Seems reasonable. Most people would still focus on that glorious cup of java, and not give it another thought. Like!

But let's zoom out even farther, shall we?

Oooh, there it is. There's the real world. Take a long look. Take it in...

Yup, there's a cup of coffee, warmed twice with too much cream just to act as my "treat" to get me through the day. 

There's the obvious pile of Mount Laundry, always waiting to be folded. We all have that, right? Staring at you, waiting, waiting, and waiting... I'm really good at washing and drying. Folding, nah? 

The unmade bed with the uncoordinated bedding, well nothing really changes there. We don't make our bed, ever. And I'm just simply too in love with my blankets, the perfect weight and warmth, to try to have coordinating bedsheets, duvets, etc. Plus, I'm cheap. I would need to win a bunch of money to spend money on a matching bed. 

Oh and the favourite jeans on the bed. Sometimes, they are my favourite because they are the only ones that do up. Sometimes they are my favourite because I only own one pair. Sometimes they are my favourite because I don't like pants, so they sit nicely on my bed, while I dance around the house in shorts.

But you don't see any of that in my picture. Nope. You see a nice, creamy cup of coffee and you think to yourself, "Oh Amanda. She's so together. She's got a job, a husband, three kids, a house, a dog... and yet she still takes time to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee in bed." Why do we do it? Why do we pretend that life is all roses, when sometimes it's more just a big bushel of thorns with the odd flower peeking through?

This resonates with me. 

 Cheers to doing it every day. Finding the moments of sanity that keep us going.

YOU are enough, coffee in hand, chaos around.

Umm... yikes!

The look on my face when I realize that even after deleting hundreds of pictures, I still have 1100 from our trip...

The perils of nonpareils

I learned something last week. These things? 

Sure, you might know them as "sprinkles" - innocent little balls of sugar that bring joy to masses of children around the world. Cake decorators call them "nonpareils" kind of in the same way all the cool kids call the zigzag pattern "chevron". Sprinkles, nonpareils, and outside of North America, they are called, "hundreds and thousands". (Thanks Wikipedia.) 

Wikipedia states, "Their origin is uncertain, but they may have evolved out of the pharmaceutical use of sugar, as they were a miniature version of comfits."

I beg to differ. I am fairly certain and would almost bet money on the fact that they may have evolved over time from an ancient device designed to torture prisoners. 

You see, although they are cute, tiny, sweet and crunchy, little tiny balls of joy, they are also hard, impenetrable, unyielding pellets that when dumped upon the floor by your youngest child, will scatter and spread across the floor and fill every crevice, real and imaginary, in your ENTIRE HOUSE. (Here's where the "hundreds and thousands" name loses its irony and becomes very real.)

Sure, you can pull out the central vac because you realize that it would be pointless to try and sweep them up. After all, they are teeny tiny little balls. It wouldn't make sense to try to brush them all in the same direction. C'mon, you are smarter than that.

However, what you might not realize is that vacuum cleaners also blow out air, so when you try to get the nozzle close enough, these tiny balls spread even farther. Sure, you might suck up 80% of them, but the other 20% have instantly taken up residence all over your house, laughing with glee that they've escaped every effort to be cleaned up.

So back to the torture part... you might think I'm referring to the torture of being unable to clean these up. Gasp! The horror of having an unclean house might eat away at some of you.

Not to worry - that ship has long sailed over here in this household. I'm perfectly at peace with the fact that my house won't be clean, EVER AGAIN. I made peace with that fact sometime in 2007 when my first child was born. Since then, another two children have joined forces with her, the dust bunnies, and the weird sticky goo that lives under my stove to form a little, mini, messy army whose sole purpose is to wreak havoc in every room of the house. I waved the white flag at the idea of having a clean house years ago.

The torture part is that I go barefoot, all the time. 24/7. As soon as I walk in the door, I take off my shoes and socks. The 8 random black socks in my entranceway will stand as evidence to this fact. (Make that 7 socks, because we all know that one of them always disappears.) When you are walking barefoot and you step on one of the above mentioned "sprinkles" it always manages to hit the nerve ending that is connected directly to some central pain centre and it feels like you are walking on shards of glass. Shrapnel from the little, mini, messy army perhaps? Who knows?! All I know is that for days now, I'll bounce happily down my carpeted stairs and suddenly stop at the bottom step and beginning scanning the floor in a panic.

It's a tough call - do I get my hopes up that today will be the day that my tender toes don't step on a teeny ball of happiness, or do I simply put on my slippers and let the little buggers win again, but cry inside that I can't go barefoot?

See what I mean?

Sprinkles = Torture.

A monkey, butterfly and skeleton.

Pumpkin carving was a hit - well, with two out of the three kids. 

Eli and I took pumpkin carving to a new level. The drill was so great for him. 

Gavin wanted nothing to do with the pumpkin carving for the most part, but then dictated his requests to Chris, so he did wind up with a very mathematically shaped pumpkin.

Chelsea did a cat pumpkin all on her own.

Eli was super pumped about his project, but note to self - this pumpkin did not last nearly as long as the others. It was shrivelled and moldy and collapsed days before Halloween (but still not as bad as last year!)

Pumpkin carving and scooping guts? No thank you, says this little man.

And of course, we had fun with costumes this year. The cutest little monkey you ever did see.

A giant rainbow butterfly.

And a glow in the dark skeleton.

We had so much fun this year. We were only out for about an hour, and then the kids wanted to come home and hand out candy. Fine by me - it was cold out there!