Growth spurt.

When I was busy blinking, the fourteen-year-old boy grew. Again.

Looks like we're going to have to go shopping for some back-to-school clothes. Should I get two sizes larger than he needs?

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Quality FAMILY Time.

Four years ago, our Zombie Dishwasher finally gave up the ghost.

Since The Huz was doing most of the cooking, a fair chunk of the dish washing was done by ...yours truly.

But before you burst into tears of pity, let me tell you it hasn't been all bad. Sure, there are times when every single dish, glass, pot, cutlery and Tupperware in the kitchen has been used throughout the day, and every single able-bodied person mysteriously disappears after dinner. We're talking about the horrendous aftermath of breakfast, lunch, dinner and snackies, complete with crusted-on cement masquerading as cereal and the horrors of three day old tuna-sandwich plastic containers arising from the depths of an Eight Grader's school bag.

It's enough to give you the dry heaves (if you're lucky).

Rather than face it alone, I nag. I nag expertly. After a 30+ year career in animation production, making sure we get that commercial through the pipeline on time, under budget and with blow-the-client-away quality, I'm capable of world class nagging - I am a nagspert! Of course, animators are somewhat easier to herd than teenagers.

But eventually, during the first year of my unrelenting nagging to "COME AND HELP WITH THE DISHES", something very interesting began to happen. Dish washing time turned into one-on-one time. As I stood scrubbing and rinsing, my normally reticent teenagers would spill the beans about their day, their friends, their crushes and disappointments. The fresh linen in their hands methodically drying crockery still warm from the sink had a relaxing effect on them. I think it helped that I would stand facing the window, so there was no judgmental eye to cast aspersions. Whichever of my kids happened to be helping would soon begin leaking secrets and we began to know our children as people.

Washing dishes had become a safe place.

But that's not all. The Huz set up some speakers and a turntable in the kitchen and there was music. More than one teenager would join in with the clearing, and stacking and drying as I stood washing. We danced to the Beatles, The Jackson 5 and Elton John! We sang along to Grease and Rocky Horror! Old vinyl records were pulled out and played, the history of music was discussed, memories and stories emerged and our children began to know their parents as people.

Washing dishes had become fun.

There's more. The teenagers invited their friends and boyfriends over, who would stay for dinner and help with the dishes afterwards. Jokes, laughter and philosophical conversation flowed as the dirty dishes passed one by one through my soapy hands to wind up clean and dry in the cupboards.

And some days, most extraordinarily, The Huz and I will put our feet up and relax on the sofa while the kids do the dishes without us.

This story has been ripening in my head for four years. I've just come from the kitchen, singing a slew of Bee Gees songs with the seventeen-year-old girl. The sink is clean, the counter wiped and every dish has been scrubbed, dried and put away....tidied after a fashion.

I know that life isn't perfect; there are still days when no one comes to help and I just don't feel like nagging or washing dishes. On those days they get left in a pile until the next morning, and I'm okay with that.

I will never be tempted to trade my quality family time for a dishwasher. There are still memories waiting to be made washing dishes, and I know that soon enough, it will be just me and The Huz.

Do you have any fun stories about doing housework with your family?

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Reflections of a 13 year old BOY.

This is the thirteen year old boy.  Do you remember when he was ten? I invite you to witness the fleeting balance of childhood and puberty.

The boy hasn't hit the tunnel of darkness yet. By that I mean he's still pretty delightful and affectionate. I like to watch him, I can tell he's studying the changes in his body, looking for signs of manhood.

Spiderman needn't worry...somehow I don't think he'll get left behind. What do your teens do in front of the mirror?

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A bunch of parenting TIPS.

I'm nominated for a Top 25 Canadian Moms blogging thing.

I don't usually get involved in contests and giveaways. Especially not the kind where you have to annoy people by asking them to vote for you repeatedly. But, alas, here I find myself doing just that.

But I don't like pestering people day after day for votes, which in the end prolly do more to boost the rankings of the host site anyways. Bleah. I much prefer the idea of offering you something of value as I ask for your precious *click*.

And so, in the spirit of exchange: I'll be leaving a bunch of parenting tips, mined from my personal experience (stuff that worked for me anyways), here on this blogpost from now until September 25th.

In return: puh-leeze consider voting for me every day until then. Just click on the little heart next to the word VOTE.

NO, you don't have to be in Canada to vote. You can be anywhere. And you can vote every day.

So here's the parenting tips:

1. Listen to the kids. Hear what they are saying to me not only with words, but also with their silence. A lack of communication can be as telling as a hand-written letter tattooed on the eyeballs. Never let them shut you out for long.

2. Respect the kids. Treat them as you would have them treat you. You know how you've nagged at them a million times to say "please", to lower their voice, and to speak with a civil tongue, even if they disagree? When they insist on the same respectful treatment in return, you'll know you're doing a good job.

3. Cop to it. If you make a mistake (and you will) you should always own up to it. Apologize, and explain why you did it. When a parent screws up, it's important to show that you're trying to do better. But you also want to move forward, so don't forget to forgive yourself too.

4. Be Consistent. Whether it's rules, or family routine, decide what it's gonna be and stick with it. Kids need that familiarity, it helps them feel secure - even teenagers, though they protest and complain. This doesn't mean that you can't surprize them once in a while by changing your mind (it keeps them on their toes!) but this should be rare.

This is fun right? More in a day or so. Please go votez for moi!

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Second chances.

It strikes me that a "no second chance" attitude is pretty much why teens commit suicide, why there are honor killings and burning brides in some cultures, and why a woman can get arrested, flogged or stoned to death for being raped in certain countries. It has a pernicious shame at its root.

On the plus side, there's a lot of discussion going on about it and I think that's healthy.

Helping our children navigate the insanity that is adolescence is difficult enough without social media archiving everything. After all the mistakes I've made in my life, I can't imagine not ever having the chance to get it right, somehow. The second chance, and all the chances after that are what made me all that I am today.

And I refuse to believe that I am not worthy.

What would your life be like if you'd had no second chances?

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Back to school.

My youngest child is thirteen years old and going into Grade 8. He wasn't too stressed about today being the first day back to school. The boy asked me to walk him "halfway" there.

I decided to take the dog with us.

And he was off...

I watched him until he disappeared, half hoping he would turn to wave. He didn't.

Motherhood? It's all about letting go. You gotta keep cutting that umbilical cord, over and over and over. I'm so glad I brought the dog with me.

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Motherhood = Nerves of Steel.

Mother's Day comes once a year and it's a day for mom to take some time for her self.

Of course, it could end up being just like every other day. Children are so demanding!

As a mom, I think it's important to consider their demands and make the right decisions.

This is where the "nerves of steel" come in handy.

Kids can say terrible, hurtful things. And in the heat of the moment, they really mean it too.

I never take these insults personally. Instead, I choose to focus on important issues, like respect and honesty.

As long as the lines of communication remain open between myself and my kids, and my reflexes remain sharp...


...I think things will probably turn out alright.

A little patience goes a long way, so we try to give them time and space to reflect on their actions.

And while it may often seem that being a mom is a thankless task...

...it actually isn't.

There's just enough pure joy to be thankful for. Remember folks: every day is Mother's Day.

Confession time! What's the worst insult ever hurled at you by your offspring? Or that you ever hurled at your mom?

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