Today is Lucy’s last day at daycare for the summer.

Our wonderful home provider, Julia, closes down for the summer to spend the school vacation with her three boys (she’s a single mom). So far this has worked for us, with me working from home and getting help from our teenager Shelby and our parents. But we’ve had many conversations the past two years about how much longer we can handle the shut-down.

Certainly next summer — when I plan to be working three days a week — it will not be viable.

But we’re not thinking about that right now. We’re thinking about:

• a) it’s summer!
• b) ohdeargod, it’s summer!
• c) what am I going to do with two kids for nine weeks?
• d) how am I not going to go nutty with two kids?

We’ll be getting various breaks from each other at daycamp, the cottage and help from Shelby again and our parents. But people: There are a ton of loonnnng days ahead. And you can only craft away or hang out in the backyard so much.

So, let’s help each other out. What do you do all summer? Where do you go to play? Splash pad? Park? Trail? Best indoor place on a hot/rainy day? Festivals? Museums?

Leave a comment, and we can build up a fabulous local resource to refer to all summer.

As an added bonus, I’ve got a set of Fisher Price Laugh & Learn Keys to give away to one lucky commenter!

Here are my faves:

• Any and all local fairs (click here for a list of all the fairs in Ontario, including Durham Region)
• Libraries, early year’s centres (full list of Durham’s are on the site here!)
• Brooks Farms (tractor rides!), plus Cooper’s Goat & Veggie Farm, Uxbridge (corn sandbox and…goats!)
• Port Perry’s waterfront — soon to have a splash pad! And they have great restaurants, picnic area and park
• Picnics in the park (there’s something so…summer about doing this)
• Indoor malls on hot days to cool down
• Ditto indoor play centres (see our list here!)
• Kiddie pool in the backyard with friends
• All of Durham’s local festivals and celebrations can be found on the Tourism Durham website, and others — see the local events page

I’m so far behind on recording the little happenings in our life lately. Before they are forgotten forever in the vortex of summer and growing kids, a list (with pics, below):

• Three Dora & Diego window stickers & a beach ball now grace the glass and floor in Lucy’s room, because my girl has gone poop on the potty FOUR TIMES in a row! That’s right, no 3+-year-old poopy diapers in a week. We are so thrilled. And so is Lucy. She keeps asking if we’re calling everyone to tell them — and that “I’m so proud of myself!”
• If you’re wondering what worked, it was a combo of give and take: I bought some dollar store toys, and put them in a bucket in the bathroom so she could see them. When she went poop, so got a prize. If she went poop in her diaper, she had TV taken away for the rest of the day. We only had to take TV away three times before she realized we meant business. — and that television AND a toy was awesome.
• Speaking of poop, poor Alice is battling terrible constipation. A result, I think, of adding a second bottle of formula a day, Cheerios and crackers. She just hollers like the devil when she goes. We are taking out stock in prunes
• Speaking of butts, Alice can sit up on her own now. It’s so adorable when they can do that! A whole new world to learn about from that angle
• Also, her top two teeth are coming in. Anyone else hate teething? Yeesh.
• I have piles and piles of reviews to do and write (vitamins, food, play centres, pacifiers). I think the week I’m at the cottage with the girls will be review week.
• Our gardens look gorgeous right now. Must post pics.
• We saw the Sound of Music on Saturday (must see the movie still, as I don’t quite get what all the fuss is about…), and we were away from the girls from 9:30 a.m. until 6 p.m. During the performance, I had this pain in my arm that traveled from my elbow to shoulder, and was all freaked out telling Eric to watch in case I had a stroke. When we got home and Alice drained my milk-swollen right breast? Pain disappeared. WEIRD. Can one get milk backed up in their appendages?
• The other weekend was our local Duck Derby, and guess who was there? Bram from Sharon, Lois and Bram! Remember Skinnamarink-A-Dinky-Dink? ALL the parents in the audience were swaying and singing, blissful in reliving their childhoods, while our kids were looking around suspiciously. T’was hilarious.
• For Father’s Day, Lucy made personalized keepsake jars for Eric, her Papa and Grandpa. They were a hit, and she loved doing them.
• It’s stinkin’ hot out, and I LOVE IT. Been hanging tons of laundry, with Alice babbling away in her booster seat outside on the deck
• I lost three nose pins this weekend — two down the drain, and one in bed. Grr…
• Lucy and I did swimming lessons together for eight weeks. More on this later.
• Stroller Fit class continues to be great fun, and an even awesomer workout now that instructor Kelly has kicked it up: We walk faster, use benches, tip toe up hills. No weight loss, but this weekend I fit into pants I haven’t been able to in years!

And pics:

Babies and children may not fully understand the concepts of gratitude and sacrifice so woven into parenthood, but today has shown me they have their own way of saying thank you.

And I love you.

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I went into Lucy’s room this morning, and she greeted me with her usual big smile, and cheerful “Mumma! I missed you when I was sleeping!” But then she turned her head and I had to stifle a scream: The whole half of her face, from the top of her forehead to the bottom of her nose, was completely swollen. Her eye was almost closed up.

Something bit her in the middle of the night, and her body overreacted (thanks Bob the pharmacist @ Shopper’s Drug Mart in the Boonies). She’s on puffy face infection watch, Benadryl and hydrocortisone for 24 hours, after which we have to take her to a doctor if the swelling isn’t down.

She’s acting almost like her normal self, except pretty clingy and extra affectionate.

“Mummy, take care of me. Mumma, I love you. Please take care of me.”

Oh, my Baby Goose. I try. Every single day.

_____

Both girls are also battling colds, and we had an absolutely draining, exhausting and often angry weekend dealing with two drained, exhausted and often angry sick kidlets.

We’ve dubbed them Quasimodo and the Snot Sister.

_____

Alice’s symptoms are a few days behind Lucy’s, so today the snot is just pouring out and she’s swallowing excessively with what must be a sore throat. She woke up this morning with mucus, crusted green and yellow, on her hair and eyes and cheeks and chubby chin. And that sickly-sweet illness smell. She is whiny and sad and mostly miserable.

Yet each time I pick her up, she takes my face in her hands with a shining-eyed grin, leans in, and gives me an unprompted, snot-slobbery open-mouthed kiss on the cheek.

I’m sure she is echoing her sister’s plea, in her own way.

_____

As Eric drove to work today — late, as Lucy and I scrambled to the pharmacy — I’m sure it was with slumped shoulders: Aching physical and emotional tiredness from home, the place that normally gives such rest and relaxation from a very stressful job.

And me. I am touched out and covered in smears, some crunchy, some still soft: Tears and snot and spit and love-infused goobers from my tiny beings.

Yes, we are weary. Yes, we joked about posting an ad on eBay — For Sale: Two Small Children. Slightly Damaged. — when walking home from the farmer’s market yesterday morning, both girls screeching in the stroller.

But there is something so powerful and soul-lifting about them wanting you, and only you. Who knew one day we would wield such unflinching and unwavering comfort?

That is gratitude and love. Unspoken, but ever present.

Yesterday afternoon went in to get Alice up from her nap, and found her rocking on all fours.

(As soon as I turned the light on, she immediately flopped on her belly and smiled mischievously at me. Pretending I didn’t just bust her. Do you see the mischievous glint in that eye?)

May I remind you that she is not even seven months old. And you may recall that Lucy was 11 months old before she crawled.

Send help.

We are in trouble.

You know toddlers are all about control. As in, they are becoming so aware of the world, and how little control they have over it. So the things they CAN control (what they eat is a huge one) they hold on to with all their might.

Lucy has always had a bed time routine, from almost the time she came home from the hospital. She takes it very seriously. It’s her control thing.

She must turn her Dora nightlight on. We must read three books. She must turn her music on. My daughter whom I could NEVER get to sleep under blankets for the first 2.5 years of her life must have now three on top of her in a particular order. And minimum two “guys” (stuffed animals) must be on top of the covers.

How Eric and I exit the room is a series of ordered events, a change of which causes DEATH CON NUCLEAR MELTDOWN 589647. At the end of the day when we’re trying to get her calm for sleep and just want some no child time pleasejeebus, we pretty much do anything she asks (within reason, of course. And a certain man whose name rhymes with Derek, Aerik and Ferick is much more…accomodating than I).

This is how it’s come to be that Eric and I each night find ourselves…I can hardly admit it…dancing and snarfing before we are permitted to leave the room.

Snarfing is inhale-snorting like a pig. But it’s really reference to Spencer Dog, who makes this sneeze-snort noise that we invented the word snarf for.

Dancing, in this instance, involves some half-hearted hip wiggling and arm flailing like when you’re spinning a hula hoop.

Often we hold hands and dance-snarf, refusing to meet eyes because we know we’re going to lose it at the ridiculousness we’re engaging in: Oh, if my boss could see me now, Eric’s said.

Sometimes I’m still nursing Alice during Lucy bedtime, and I can always tell The Routine is almost over because Eric’s snorts reverberate down the stairs.

And so it is, the power of a 3-year-old.

This morning, after Lucy skipped off to daycare with Eric and Alice was sleeping, I watched the last two episodes of Golden Girls over a plate of whole grain waffles and blueberries.

I thought it was a fitting tribute to Bea Arthur, who died Saturday of cancer, at 86. Bea is the second of my beloved Golden Girls to pass away: Estelle Getty — who played Dorothy’s mother Sophia — died last summer (post here).

The final episode, during which Dorothy gets married to Blanche’s Uncle Lucas (played by Canadian funnyman Leslie Nielsen), always makes my chest fill with emotion: Sadness for the end, happiness that Dorothy finally finds fulfillment, irony that it’s Dorothy that gets hitched, gratitude and pain and sorrow. Today I realized just how appropriate the last scene is for Bea’s passing.

Indulge me. The girls are in the famous living room — filled with light green and pink fabric and rattan furniture a la Miami 80s — and Dorothy is leaving with Lucas (waiting in the car).

Rose: What can you say about seven years of fights and laughter, secrets…cheesecake?

Dorothy: It’s been very…it’s been an experience that I’ll always keep close to my heart. These are memories I’ll wrap myself in when the world gets cold and I forget that there are people who are wam and loving.

*all hugging*

Blanche: You’ll always be a part of us.

Dorothy: Your friendship was something I never expected at this point in my life. And I could never have asked for a better surprise.

Blanche: That’s how we feel, too.

Dorothy: I have to go.

Rose: Dorothy? Is this goodbye?

Dorothy: *nods* I love you. Always.

*leaves, but comes back in running and crying hug again*

Dorothy: You’re angels. All of you.

And now you, Bea Arthur. Thank you for gracing me with so much happiness and comfort.

I can now add “transcribed last minutes of Golden Girls” into the list of most time-wasting and ridiculous things I’ve ever done…

The show went great. There were more than 1,000 people through the doors (I wonder if they count babies, too?), and the place was steadily busy until around 2 when nap time hit. I met a ton of people, said hi to some readers, and received lots of interest in both sites (and giveaway entries, too! Winners announced tomorrow).

Thankfully Alice was like this most of the day. She slept for a bit in the morning in her car seat, then Eric took her to the mall for a while so she could doze in the stroller. I keep meaning to write about how she’s freaked out at strangers since, oh, birth, and how worried I was about how she’d react to everyone. But like a true baby, she surprised us all.

My (pregnant again!) friend Colleen sent the girls these fabulous matching Easter pajamas from Old Navy (there’s an egg with sunglasses on, and the caption says, “I’m a cool egg”). Lucy is so tickled when she and Alice match. I’ve got to find more paired clothes for them. This was at bedtime on Saturday after a long day at the show, and Alice is quite understandably done.

She was in a much better mood in the morning.

Lucy went absolutely bonkers over the eggs the Easter Bunny hid for her. She shuffled around the house in her bunny slippers, squealing each time she found one (”Look, Mumma, ah-nudder one!”). The Easter Bunny was supposed to keep track of how many eggs s/he hid to make sure Spencer Dog did not come across any, but s/he was slightly tired. And Lucy loved the hunt so much, she’s spent the last two days re-hiding all the eggs herself, then finding them (or asking us too, all along the way showing us where they are). Makes for much hilarity and eye-rolling, as the kid hides the eggs in the same places over and over again. Still, I think we’re down three or four.
They’ll probably show up at Christmas.

Do you love dairy as much as I do?

I start the day with milk in my cereal or oatmeal, and have it in my tea throughout the day. My favourite drink is a cold glass of milk (especially with dinner and ice cream). I live off yogurt and blueberries, and eat cheese and crackers almost every day (not to mention add cheese to a good portion of our meals, along with the occasional cream soup). And ice cream and frozen yogurt? Mmmmmm.

But no longer.

We suspect Alice’s vibrant, watery and rather painful green poops are the result of a milk allergy. They haven’t gone away in a month, and now that I’ve read more about it, she has many other signs:

• rubbing her eyes even when not tired, what we now guess it itchiness
• a sandpaper-like raised rash on her cheeks
• persistent red rash on the bum

We don’t know for sure, of course, but it’s a likely culprit. A milk allergy is very uncommon (between 2%-3% of babies), but if a baby has a food allergy, it’s most commonly milk.

The best we can do is cut it out of my diet, and see what happens. The milk proteins can take up to three weeks to get out of your system, but we should notice an improvement in Alice in 5-7 days.

It’s a stress and sacrifice I could do without, but we think it’s worth it. A few months in the grand scheme of my life is nothing, and I’m not willing to give up breastfeeding over what should be a simple fix.

(And she’s so worth it, don’t you think?)

But do you know that dairy is in everything? It’s in margarine! And crackers! Granola bars, cookies, pasta sauce, and — be still, my breaking heart — potato chips.

(I was hopeful about cereal — those that don’t contain dairy, anyways — and tried soy milk on some Mini Wheats this morning? Then gagged. Bleh. Imposter milk is great in tea, but there’s no way I’ll be eating it so overtly.)

So, we’ll see what happens. I’m trying to take a positive attitude and see it as (forcibly) opening up some new recipes and foods. Maybe I’ll discover something I never would have tried otherwise.

Except soy cheese. Gotta draw the line somewhere, and that’s just wrong.

• Alice probably has the stomach virus that Lucy had, except it’s coming out, well, the other end. It can take a few weeks to clear out of her system, thus the green poops and irritability
• In yet another parenting milestone, we have to gather a stool sample just to be sure it isn’t a milk allergy (highly unlikely, but my doctor is very thorough). I figure I’ve carried dirty diapers around in my purse before, so a smear of poop in a card in an envelope isn’t that far off
• I most definitely do not have post partum depression (I never suspected I did, nor did Eric, who has been on the lookout for it since I gave birth). The doctor thinks I was — rightly — just very frustrated with an obviously irritated baby…especially combined with a toddler in tow. Her words: “Every mother everywhere hits that spot, and ones who say they haven’t are lying.” She, like y’all, congratulated me for getting help, and said how great it is that I have such close family
• She also encouraged regular time away from the kids (check — thank you, Durham Mom’s Night Out!), to continue to drink and eat well, exercise and have intimate relations with my husband
• I asked if Eric paid her to say that last one, and she just wiggled her eyebrows. Do you know how excited my husband is now that the doctor has ordered us to have sex? The man is strutting

Thursday evening I thought you felt warm. Friday morning it was apparent you were definitely coming down with something.

“I want to stay home with you, Mama,” you said, your arms wrapped around my neck, clinging. And so you did, and Nana came to visit, instead.

Saturday you were not yourself. You hardly ate — the very first sign, above a fever, even, that something is wrong. And while you played, your usual spunk was missing. The slightest thing made you cry (doing things in the wrong order, getting your feet caught in your pant legs, missing a mitten).

There is nothing sadder than a normally vivacious toddler with the light missing from her eyes.

“Mama, I’m so cold.” You are buried under four blankets in bed.

“Mama, it hurts in there.” You are pointing inside your mouth to your throat.

By Saturday evening, you are almost heating the whole house, you are so hot. Your cheeks blaze. Your eyes are glassy. You keep stuttering when trying to talk, and increasingly trip when trying to walk. Medicine is no longer helping.

We are sure the flu has enveloped you.

This is the first time you’ve been really sick and been able to communicate to us exactly what it feels like. While this is a blessing in one respect, it makes it even more difficult knowing how you’re suffering.  I just want to wrap you in my arms and absorb your pain. Our sweet little Lucy.

We give you a warm bath, and get you into bed. You are limp with fatigue and fever, but still giggle weakly when I spin you ’round the room. We know you’re still in there.

“I want a cuddle, Mama. In here.” I crawl into bed with you.

In the soft glow of your Dora nightlight, you caress my hair and kiss my nose again and again. We are curled together under the mountain of blankets, and you hold my hand under the covers. I rub your burning forehead and kiss your cheeks. You whisper to me about the polka dots on your walls, how much you love Daddy and baby Alice and Spencer Dog. How you are still so cold.

“Stay in here, Mama.”

Over the monitor, we hear your laboured breathing. You toss and turn and cough. Never settling.

We give you more medicine, earlier than the bottle says we should. But we have to do something. After a cuddle with Daddy, you finally fall into a deep slumber near midnight.

At 4 a.m., after feeding your sister, I creep into your room and lay my hand on your forehead. It’s cool for the first time in days. I relay this to your Daddy when I crawl back into bed, and we both breathe a sigh of relief before sleeping deeply ourselves for the first time in days.

Sunday you cough — not unlike a seal — into your arm as we taught you, and sound like you’re recovering from a hard night at the bar. But you’re smiling. And when you start jumping off your chair in your room and landing with a thud and roar of laughter, we know you’re back.

Oh, my sweet girl. I never, ever want to wish illness upon you. But it feeds some need in me to be able to take care of you, to crawl into your bed and give you some measure of comfort that can’t be found in a bottle of medicine.

This morning she bounded off to daycare with nary a backward glance, happily leaving sickness and I behind to go “Play, play, play!.” But absorbing some of the germs must have worked, as the snot is free-flowing out my nose, my head is stuffed with cotton, and Eric says he thought a freight train was in our room last night. Now we pray Alice is spared and the antibodies in my milk keep her strong and resistant. Was it worth it? I’d crawl into her bed again in a heartbeat.