StarWars

M and I ventured to DisneyWorld today with V…. always fun to do on the weekend, and since we get in for free there is really no reason not to go.

On our arrival I heard some familiar music. I couldn’t place it at first, but the closer we got to the enterance and then as we were walking through the bag-search area it struck me. Star Wars. Oh my….

It was StarWars weekend at Hollywood studios! How did I not know that they did this? I was sure that M would have mentioned it to me since I thought he was ‘Star Wars obsessed’. But, as he told me while we hustled through the crowds,  “I’m not really that into it anymore”. Bullsh*t is what I thought of that statement. Pretty much all men are in love with Star Wars. As they all love Westerns. And The Godfather. And if they protest that they don’t like either of those 3, they are lying!

Once we got through the main gates of MGM (or HollyWood Studios as it’s called now), there was a full-on StarWars parade in action. Storm Troopers all over the place. Chewbacca carrying C-3P0. Darth Vader. Etc.

I personally saw 4 children dressed up as Storm Troopers (and one who’s Mum didn’t do up the back of his costume and his tush was hanging out.) One grown man dressed as as Anakin. One dressed as Obi-Wan. One man pushing a baby stroller coming out of a gift shop dressed up in an orange pilot costume.

V wasn’t interested in anything at all. In fact, we took him to Muppets 3-D Adventure and with all that noise and us trying to fuss with 3-D glasses on his face (for fun) he fell fast asleep on Daddy. Fast asleep. M turned to me and said “He is totally going to sleep like this on the plane.” Oh god I hope so….

Home from the parks, V in bed early, post dinner, M and I are indulging in a ‘True Blood’ marathon. Pretty much the furthest thing away from StarWars that you could ever get. Dare I say that we like it more?

Blasphemy!

Bloody lip

I have a split lip, courtesy of my son.

Let me backtrack a little….. V and Pop-Pop hung-out Friday(as a result of a day-care  scheduling issue). M worked the usual 2 jobs. I didn’t eat lunch (for the 3rd time this week), left early and relieved Pop-Pop from grandson-duty.

Off V and I went to pick up birthday party supplies…. Oh, I am getting soooooo excited about his birthday. I know all he is going to do is ignore everything, look overwhelmed, cry and smear cake all over everything. And maybe swim in the pool. Again, I am so excited.

So Friday evening was the usual…. usual dinner, usual bath, usual struggle to strap a diaper onto that little fat bum. Usual everything. During diaper-changing, I usually give him a toy to play with to distract him while I wipe the tush and slap that diaper on. Today his toy was a maraca.

Big mistake.

Seriously, it really was.

The first sign was when he learned to how to shake it. So adorable really, a baby shaking a maraca. And the look on his face while he was doing it was priceless. Even though he has had the toy for ages, this was the first time he realized that he could make it make noise.

And make noise he did. And about 25 minutes later I started to regret giving it to him (mostly after I got hit in the head repeatedly by that darn thing)…. but when I tried to take it away, he cried (and so I gave it back).

During that whole “Can Mummy have the maraca??” I got headbutted in the mouth and split my lip. Holy Mother does V ever have a hard head. It didn’t seem to faze him at all though, and this morning (Saturday) when he woke up there were no signs on that huge head of his that he had ever slammed it into my teeth at all.

I think perhaps he is impervious to pain. Or he has a really thick skull…Or both.  I can’t believe that his head made me bleed and he didn’t even notice that the whole event occurred. Although considering how much he is like his father, I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised that he didn’t notice… I think sometimes that M wouldn’t notice if the house was on fire around him, especially if some sort of  cooking program is on while the house is burning down. He would definetly stay until that end of the show, while V, Chewie and I waited patiently on the front lawn.

Chip off the old block, eh?

Temper

As we approach V’s first birthday, things are starting to get interesting. His little personality is developing at a jack-rabbit-like pace and he is making new discoveries every day. Sometimes it feels like every minute I spend with him he learns something new.

Example 1:

The other day I hopped out of my car and swung around the side to open his door and unbuckle him. I grabbed the door handle, plastered a super-happy face on (I love making him smile) and opened the passenger-side backseat door.

There he was with his finger up his nose, and the biggest grin on his face.  Oh my did I ever giggle. He looked so pleased with himself, I couldn’t help but exclaim “What did you find!!!!!”.

Example 2:

Bath-time is always a good time in our household and lately it’s been even more fun!. V has decided that he doesn’t want to sit down in the tub anymore. Just stand. The whole time. Maybe grab the shower curtain and shake it until the curtain hangers rattle in a pleasing manner. Or slowly walk around the tub, grabbing onto the wall. Anything but sitting down and playing nicely with Mummy.

Unless sitting means that his little fingers encounter those little parts between his legs. Those very stretchy parts that sometimes get pulled with such vigor that it makes me wince. Doesn’t seem to bother him at all though. This evening he squeezed and stretched with great delight. And with the most wonderful grin on his face the whole time he was doing it. “Hah! Heh! Eeee!” was what came out of his mouth the whole time this was going on. I just watched, amazed that things like this started this early.

Example 3:

And this is my favorite…. V has learned how to have a temper tantrum. Is it inheirit? Did he learn it at daycare? Who knows… But it is perhaps the funniest thing ever. And what is even funnier is that M and I find it so amusing, we don’t do anything about it.

Flat on the floor, kicking his legs, eyes clenched shut and face bright red, wailing away. How can you not laugh? And point? And laugh again?!

He did it again tonight after I said the magic word “baba” (which is baby for bottle in our house). That baba didn’t come into view fast enough, and there he was splayed out on the floor, limbs flailing all around, affronted wailing and red-faced. I put the bottle on the floor about 3 feet in front of him. It took him 2 stops ( to wail and thud his fists and feet on the carpet) before he made it over. And everything was golden once he had it in his hands.

Things are certainly getting interesting over here…..

Mother knows best

Sunday morning M, V and I headed off into the beautiful sunshine for an outdoor excursion. Where were we going? I wasn’t that sure… all I knew is that it was an hour away. In the middle of loading everything up into M’s car, his father called and asked if we wanted to borrow theirs for the trip.

Their car is a sweet ride, all new leather interior with Sirius satellite radio and so of course the answer was yes. We headed over to their house, switched cars, re-loaded everything up and off we went. About 5 minutes after we left, M turned to me and said “Did you remember the stroller?” to which I replied “Of course!” in a confident manner. I WAS confident. I remember putting it in the trunk. No worries!

An hour later we arrived at Cyprus Gardens. It used to be one of the earliest theme parks in Florida, M explained to me. A few years ago they closed down all the rides but kept the gardens open. And added on a water park.

As we pulled into the parking lot, parked and got out… M swung around to the back of the car and opened the trunk.

Lo and behold it was empty! No stroller to be found anywhere. Where was it, you ask? Lounging in the trunk of M’s Mitsubishi in Orlando not in Polk County (where we were). Hmmm, my confidence was suddenly gone. Darn, I remember putting it in ‘a’ trunk. Not necessarily the trunk of the car we were in.

Things to remember when traveling with children:

Bring a stroller. Or at least make sure you can rent one wherever you are going. Or your arm might break off (like mine almost did while carrying V around). I know you aren’t retarded so I am sure you already knew this…

Bring hat(s). And be prepared for those hats to be flung off. I kept saying to M that I couldn’t believe we forgot one. And he kept saying “But all he does is throw them off”, which is true. But still wish we had one.

Sunscreen (especially if you live in places like Florida) is key. Even better if it is ‘stick’ form, which works well for little faces.

Water. Food. Food. Food. Water. Food.

Make sure your arms are nicely stretched out and can handle carrying your child that will for sure throw a fit after being in the stroller for 20 minutes or more. My bicep on my right arm is developing nicely. Not so much on my left…

Make sure you have lots of extra diapers. My darling child immediately filled his the minute we entered the gardens. So we immediately entered the washroom….

Which leads me to my  next point… make sure you have a changing pad. Baby changing stations are icky. Oh and a poo-bag. Oh, and most important…. hand sanitizer. (This particular changing station wouldn’t fold out completely, so V was on an angle. But on the plus side he was fascinated by being on an angle and I changed diapers with lightening-like speed!)

And in conclusion, don’t forget anything. And over-pack. And never forget to bring extra food/diapers/food/diapers. And make sure you pack enough snacks to feed a small army.

Posting (and Prince)

Saturday night, a thunderstorm is rolling in and I am on the couch (totally worn out, I might add)…. watching a crappy movie and drinking wine. My usual M.O. for the weekend. And much deserved I might add.

V and I were busy today.

We picked out party invitations (and tried on silly sunglasses at the party store). We went to Target and bought adorable baby girl things for a lovely friend who is expecting right around V’s birthday. She lives in Japan, so it was extra fun to put together…

V took a much needed nap. (I folded laundry and went back to Target)

We visited with Auntie, who just returned from Germany (via Cincinatti) this morning. Tata is home all summer and so V and I are looking forward to seeing lots of her (whether she likes it or not).

Gramma, V and I went and picked out V’s new car-seat at BabysRus. The research that went into choosing this seat was ridiculous.

I am determined that this seat will do triple-duty. I don’t want to buy anything else for him, seat-wise that is, and so I really wanted to make sure that this seat was the shizz.

And that it was in a decent price-range.

But also wasn’t a piece of crap.

And also didn’t look like a piece of crap (oh, and had a cup-holder!).

So finally settled on something within budget, looked nice, wasn’t piece of crap and HAD a cup-holder. And then went to the store to get it, was totally overwhelmed by everything else and had to call M and get him to check out online reviews for other things that caught our (M-I-L and I) eyes.

Ultimately it turned out that what I had researched was the best thing within our price-range and was in-stock.

Now while the product description on the Evenflo website does contain an abundance of exclamation marks….. just disregard. Also disregard the pretty make-up covered babies. Despite the punctuation and make-up, it is a great product.

I also picked out an outfit for his 1 year photos. This was also a hard decision. Especially since it will be hung in our hallway for years to come (just kidding!) it was a difficult decision. I solved it quickly when I came across Amy Coe’s cute clothes in BabysRus. I have bought them before and have a huge weakness for rock-themed boys clothing. HUGE. I am debating a faux hawk (hahahaha just kiddingagain! I certainly don’t want to be one of those parents).

Man, I am on fire tonight. ON FIRE. Or, just tired….. well, I know I am tired as I have been watching ‘Purple Rain’ for the last hour and am in-love with Prince again…

*although I am slightly weirded out by the fact that he rides a motorcycle like a horse. As in he was posting. Not something I expected Prince to do*

Sanity

I really like long weekends.

Last weekend I was super jealous of my fellow Canadians and their long weekend. But Ha! I have one now! A lovely long weekend that will be filled with party planning…

V’s first birthday is quickly approaching, as is our upcoming trip to Canada and there are many things to plan. I MIGHT even have to make a list (and we all know how much I love those).

His first birthday is a big deal to me, clearly, since I have been thinking about it for months and mentally theme-planning for ages as well. Finally it’s been narrowed down (I don’t want to reveal any secrets…. but there might be souvenir cd’s) and I am off this weekend with my M-I-L to pick out decorations.

I have been thinking a lot about traveling with a little one.

V has just learned how to do this:

“BAA!!!! BAAAAAAA!!!!! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

It comes in 3’s and is very loud, and I love imagining us on a plane while he demonstrates his new skill.

He showed it of this evening at Pubes (or Publix…. or however you call it), and charmed every single person he came across so perhaps that means that his screams will be charming during our flight? And everyone will find that adorable?

In my imagination this is what will happen during our flight from Orlando to Vancouver:

1) Board the plane

2) Sit in seats and do up seatbelts

3) V falls instantly asleep as we leave Orlando

4) We land in Vancouver and V wakes up, refreshed and cheerful after a pleasant sleep.

Ideally this is how it will work.

Let’s think about reality though….

1) Board plane

2) Get kicked in stomach by small pointy feet for 30 minutes. Trade with M for 30. He trades back after 10 minutes saying “Jame, I have to go to the bathroom”. He doesn’t return for 45 minutes.

3) V excersizes his lungs repeatedly for half the flight.

4) V fights sleep for the second half (this involves screaming usually)

5) Our seats are showered with Cheerios and sticky half-eaten raisins.

6) V’s juice bottle rolls down the aisle at least 3 times.

7) There are at least 3 poopy diapers (which I will rock-paper-scissors M for. For real.)

8) I find at least 5 raisins and 10 Cherrios down the front of my shirt the first itme I go to the bathroom.

9) I leave the raisins there.

10) M pretends to sleep

11) We watch repeated episodes of ‘Elmo’s World’ and our seatmate requests a new seat (and leaves humming “Lalala lalala…Elmo’s World!!!)

12) We land in Vancouver, bus it to the ferry terminal and walk back and forth across the ferry for… well, for hours…. at least until we dock. I hand V to my mother and fall instantly asleep.

It should be an interesting experience and I am trying to not overthink everything (hahahahahahaha!!!! Oh geez…. I AM hilarious!!).

Things to read if you are traveling…

Here for traveling with little ones

Here for more traveling with the wee ones

For the oldest posting ever about sanity, click here

It's raining

It’s raining in Florida….

I am sure this is all very terribly shocking to the tourists. But it is true. Sometimes we do not have perfect weather, for reals….

So the other day M, V and I were out shopping in the rain. It was a post-work excursion, a very wet start to the week and quite a long monday as well. AND I was making M come and look at strollers and a new car seat for V (who as you may know, is huge).

I got out of M’s Mitsubishi, walked over to the V’s door and opened it. The rain was coming down a little heavier than I would have liked. Especially considering I hadn’t brought a jacket or anything for wee man (bad mummy).

“I hope you have an umbrella in here”, I said to M as I hovered behind him while he unlatched V’s carseat straps. “Sure”, he said as he fumbled inside his car and hurriedly handed me something…

I looked at it. Really, is what I thought… really, this is what you have that qualifies as an umbrella?

It was a little collapsible black umbrella, faded from its permanent home in the back of M’s car. When I opened it, not only was the black material faded on the metal ribs but there was rust.

And not only that, but as I tried to open it, the handle actually crumbled into pieces and fell off into the puddle at my feet. There I was, standing in the rain at BabysRus in the parking-lot, holding the silver spine of the umbrella–no handle, just the naked end poking into my hand.

I felt so ghetto. With my ghettobrella in my flip-flops standing in a parking-lot with my child (who was barefoot and jacket-less) in the rain.

I looked at those broken pieces in the puddle and then up at my faded, rusting umbrella and ran for the overhang of the building…. M not far behind me with V. We made it safely, V was plunked into a shopping cart and off we strolled to check out, well… strollers….

About 2 minutes into our trip, M tried to abandon that poor ghettobrella in our shopping cart and walk off with the excuse of  “Ooooooooooooh!! Look at this!!!!!” Nice try Melvin! (and just for the record, that’s our last name, not his first).

It was still raining when we left and GB came into play again, poking my hand painfully the whole way back to the car. It now currently resides on the floor of the backseat (having been demoted from the trunk cover), ribs all akimbo, velcro strap not done up. It’s not long for this world now…. poor thing…

Yoga-a-go-go

Post-yoga thoughts…

Tonight I was feeling very contemplative tonight while I was twisting and sweating. And focused. As I was focusing on myself in the mirror I discovered something about myself… I learned something new about my own body while I was contorting, dripping, flexing and holding my position in the mirror.

I have really small forearms. Seriously short ones.

I am practically T-Rex.

Is that normal?

So off I went to Google to find out….

I either have a form of dwarfism… which I am pretty sure is not true.

Or  I am a teenage body-builder… this is a possibility… I might be either ‘Charliesaurus’ OR ‘teen_muscle3’.

OR I am actually a T-Rex.

Not sure. Must contemplate at next yoga class…..

Thank you

Shockingly I have made it to 100 posts.

11 months ago when I started this, it was a very tentative step in a direction that I have always wanted go. My first few posts were so studied and awkward. I was very unsure. And perhaps slightly uncomfortable at what I was doing. But determined to do it, regardless….

The months passed and I gradually felt comfortable and then suddenly I just didn’t care anymore.

These are just my thoughts, my life, my experiences in this world and suddenly I was totally at ease sharing them with… well…. everyone…

So I appreciate very much the people that take the time to stop by and read about the things that are going on in my house and my life.

And as a show of my appreciation, here are a few tidbits about me that you may or may not know….

I am perhaps the worst parker you have ever seen. I don’t pull my car completely into the stall, I am always on a really awful angle and, what is worse, I don’t care…

I can’t argue to save my life. I forget half way through and what’s worse is that I move passed it quickly. And then wonder why we are still arguing? Why are we again?

I have a deep love of all things action (movie-wise I mean). I cannot resist an awesome one. Or a bad one. Or any one at all.

I have become a slave to my best friends daughter. She has me twisted around her little finger, but I am ok with that and can’t stop spoiling her rotten. And will probably do that to her sister too.

I might not be good at diapering. But I won’t totally admit it either…. because I am not sure if I am or not, you know, because it’s my first time being a mum and stuff….

Motherhood is a mind boggling thing. So many things to do, remember, argue about, remember and try to do better. So fascinating.

I love red wine.

I am sarcastic. But maybe not as much as my cousin, for she is indeed the Queen of all things sarcasm. And I worship at her feet for that.

The fact that Liam Neeson’s wife died makes me sad.

I love my husband. More than everything. But I love V more than everything everything.

I breathe deeply sometimes to retain my calm. Sometimes it happens a little more frequently then I would like.

I once saw a squirrel eat a piece of pizza in my parking lot. Surreal.

I think, perhaps, I am a crappy communicator.

I love the smell of Earl Grey tea, but caffeinated only. Decaf Earl Grey is just not the same. At all.

I am glad to live in the land of the hurricanes instead of the land of the earthquakes. Earthquakes freak me right out, after experiencing them in Japan.

I love Japan.

I love sushi. Salmon skin. Raw scallops. Raw tuna. Umeboshi (pickled plums). Japanese beer in little glasses. Edamame with coarse salt. Japanese festivals, heat, summers, beer, cherry blossoms, mochi and beardpapa and I am sure there are a billion things I forgot about.

I love sleep more than I ever knew. And miss it more than I ever knew too.

Continental breakfast is my ideal breakfast.

British comedies are the best. And sadly here in the South no-one know what I am talking about.

I love a rainy day.  I love a new bra. I love tea and scones. I love cold days that need warm blankets. I love snuggling and hope to teach that love to V.

I am touchy. AND emotional. AND moody. And unapologetic about all. And am pretty sure that my husband is used to everything by now….

A few personal things about me…. and of course, any questions, feel free to ask away.

And thank you again for reading. Your comments mean more than you will ever know….

Shoeless

This morning as I struggled to put shoes on V’s little chubby feet, I realized that we had a problem….

The problem was that the shoes didn’t really fit. But that’s ok, I crammed them on anyways and somehow managed to do the Velcro strap up. I made them fit because I had bought them about 2 weeks ago and at that time they were too big. I can hardly believe that his feet grew that much in such a short period of time.

When M and I lived in Japan, M had problems finding shoes that fit him. Men’s feet are just not that big over there. And, well, his feet are BIG. The one place that he found to buy sneakers had the larger shoes arranged in a section entitled “Big Feet!”, with a sign exclaiming that and a huge arrow pointing down from the ceiling at the shoe selection (with a giant foot hanging over the area too). So pretty much the most embarrassing place ever to buy shoes. He didn’t go that often.

I think it’s those Italian genes, genes which V has clearly inherited as it basically looks like I cloned M into a baby. Really, they look so much alike. So it makes sense that the feet would be part of the whole package.

It is a little annoying to buy shoes and have them not fit 2 days later (slight exaggeration).

We had a few pairs of Robeez (which I love), but the last time he wore them (last weekend at Epcot) they left the most awful redmarks on his little feet which made me feel like the worst Mummy in the whole world. So those are going into storage. Bummer. They fit so well and once they warmed up to his body temperature they clunge nicely to his feet and were so flexible.

Cutest shoes ever though. If you haven’t checked out their website, click here

So that’s the gist of it. My son has huge feet. I am resigned about it. And he has no shoes.

Ok, well, he could have shoes if I wanted to spend lot’s o’money, but since I am cheap, right now he has no shoes that fit. He’s my ghetto baby… no shoes, and soon…. no shirt and pants and only a diaper. And by then I am sure I will also be shoeless, out of a job, on medicaid and welfare and pregnant again. And all because my son has big feet.

For Ghetto baby names (and an indepth discussion), click here

For a longer list of ghetto names, click here

For the Ghetto, click here