Kiss

I have started and stopped this blog a zillion times this evening. Good topic, boring topic, distraction distraction and some more distraction.

Current distraction is 21 Jump Street Season One. Johnny Depp has such a tidy haircut…

Total distraction.

And the other distraction  would be the Little Man coughing away in the other room. We can feel it coming. It’s hovering around the house. And by ‘it’, I mean the sickness. The Plague. It is circling the crib over in the other room.

We are currently doing the following:

Runny nose, cough, super runny nose, diarrhea, lack of appetite and today he had a bloody nose again. Bloody noses were all the rage a week ago and so we took a trip to my office (the handy thing about working for an ENT) and had that checked out.

One large tube of ointment later and at least  3 days of fighting with me over swabbing his nostril with it and the problem was healed.

And now it’s back. With a little more force than it was before. I do not enjoy swabbing anyones nose with Bactroban ointment. Today he ran into the corner and tried to hide his nose.

And on the sweet side of things, today he went and fetched my photo albums from the  bookshelf. He really wanted to look at pictures.

Patiently he sat in my lap for about 20 minutes while he looked at old pictures of Mummy and Auntie as little girls, some funny pictures of Daddy and Mummy in Japan and some funny pictures of Pop-Pop and Grandma Sassy’s house before they repainted it (it was very pink, so ‘Florida’).

After those, he went and got his baby book and wanted to look at those pictures too.

It is really hard to acknowledge that he is developing tastes, preferences and interests. I pretty much think he will still do and like everything that I think he should.

How special to share my childhood photos with my own child… Now if only I had a scanner so I could share them with you…

xoxo a.m.

Civil

As a newly Southern girl,  I have been fascinated with the Civil War.

Apparently not fascinated enough to actually read about it, just sort of a general fascination. A ‘Hey! Look! It’s another brown ‘historical site’ sign! Wanna stop?” kind of fascination.

I was starting to get into reading about it, then I got pregnant and my brain would only allow fiction. Preferably trashy fiction.

And where is this all leading? Well, it leads to our little family heading off to a Civil War re-enactment a few miles down the road.

M and I stumbled upon a little park near Lake Toho in Kissimmee a few weeks ago. It was full of all of the things we like: Cows, random Bible prayer groups and Dixie flags.

Post-Dixie flag enjoyment and, actually, right next to the flag, there was a sign for the upcoming Civil War Re-enactment.

“M!!! We should totally go!!” I shouted in the passenger seat, directly into his ear.

“Let’s!”, he shouted back.

Ok, I know this isn’t an Enid Blyton book so he totally didn’t say ‘let’s’. But it was something similar, and said with a lot of enthusiasm.

And so we went. And it was more interesting than I ever thought. There is a whole different type of class of rednecks that attend these things. So that was interesting.

And I learned things. Gunfire is very loud. Explosions are extremely hot. The cows were relocated. Small boys in Period clothing are adorable.

V did not enjoy the gunfire, but he didn’t hate it either. He happily cuddled with his Pop-Pop until it was over. and then he said “Wow!” He said ‘wow’ several times actually. I guess it’s good to expose these  Southern boys to gunfire at an early age so it’s no big surprise…

That way, you know, they can be properly Southern. Hmmm, perhaps we need some more Enid Blyton exposure to balance out.

In due time… in due time…

Check out here for some Civil War action heros

Check out this for Florida’s role in the war…

Easter ‘grass’

Last night:

“M? Would you like to help me put some grass in bags?”, I asked super sweetly.

Response? Nothing. Just a look. And it wasn’t much of one at that. The look was followed by a snicker. ‘Grass in baggies’ apparently hit a funny bone. However, he clearly had other things on his card for the evenings entertainment.

I have been feeling the pressure of daycare lately. V has been sent home with so many goodie bags from various parents for various holidays and events that I finally have bit the bullet.

I too will be one of those “Of course! I totally have time to make a cute project for my child’s whole entire class!! mothers.  Except I am not really one of those mothers. At least, I am not yet.

So there I sat on the living-room floor, watching last weeks Lost episode and stuffing Easter grass into baggies shaped like baby chicks. I literally had 3 left to fill when Mr M saunters over from the couch and sits down next to me.

“Want some help?”, he asked, as he reached for a baby chickie bag and some grass.

I watched him as he literally picked up pieces of paper grass and inserted them individually into the baggies.It took him a solid minute to fill the bag. As he finished, he looked up at me with a grin and this look on his face.

This look kind of looked like I was supposed to thank him  repeatedly, for all of the help he had just given me.

Instead:

“What? You want a gold star or something?”

“Ummm…”

“Gee M, thanks for taking 5 minutes to fill one bag. So helpful.”

“You could just say thank you and not be so sarcasstic.”

“”Oh, I could??  Wow. Thanks. You helped SO much.”

“Ok, enough with the sarcasm.”

Men.

Anyways, off I went with V the next morning with all of our cute treats. It was a bit of a clingy morning for the Little Man. He didn’t want to go into the classroom. That’s what happens when I drop him off earlier and his regular teacher isn’t there. He only loves her. Oh, and me. But mostly her. She is cute and blonde and perky, I’d probably love her too if I was 2!

Well what a disappointment it was for me to find out that I was 2 bags short. I guess it would have been a good idea to count the student list before I launched into this cutesy project.

Fail!!

So back they went to the car and one frantic shopping trip to Target later, I finally got things straightened out. Tonight. Delivery for tomorrow.

And all I can think about is that I really hope I counted correctly…

Naughty

Running on the end of the weekend, M and I finally get a chance to sit down together and talk.

“How are you?”

“Fine. How are you?”

“Fine. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“True dat. I’ve missed you!” (I know M likes when I talk like that)

“Me too!”

And our weekend went like this:

No internet for the majority of Saturday which really put a damper on M’s giant project, that one that he needed to use his work computer for that could only be accessed wirelessly. And so that day was just a huge disaster. Full of stress, more stress, random calls to BrightHouse and some more stress.

Life? Dull? I think not. And then he had to go to work (Job #2).

Shit.

But, you ask… what happened after that? Oh my! Things just so much better!!

V demonstrated his slapping skills on my face. And demonstrated his hitting skills on my chest. Oh my poor chest. And my poor face. But mostly my poor chest. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch.

And where did this lovely skill come from? I am assuming Daycare as M and I don’t have the habit of smacking each other around. Dude. Total dislike.

As he was hitting me, he laughed. Repeatedly. And it just made me more upset. No amount of “No” and stern looks made it any better. And I have a really good stern look too. It has, on the odd occasion, made M wash dishes and pick up his underwear.

I digress…

Huge upset for me. Why is he hitting and why is he pretending to enjoy it? What am I parenting wrong? And then, just a random guttural scream.

Later, skyping with my Mum, I spilled the whole shebang.

Mum: “And so he hit you, and then what did you  do?”

Me: “I hit…. oh. I hit him on the hand and said ‘No hitting’. Crap.”

Mum: “Did you just say ‘crap’?

Me: “Yes. And I hit him while saying ‘no hitting’. Huge parenting win for me.”

Mum: “What?” And then she laughed at me.

You will figure out your discipline strategy, she said.

Let me be honest. I have no idea what to do about discipline. No idea at all. At all. So much so that I went and bought a book today.

I mean I do the usual. Stern looks. Solemn speaking. “No. No. No.”

But I say that so much that V now says “Mumma no no no.”

Great. And also lol. But with a period at the end. So that makes it ironic. Or serious. Either.

So I am now reading some books. Books that I will tell you about later as I am about to go to bed with them. Mmmhmm book love.

xoxo a.m plus books (Hi Sunday night !!)

Grin

Having now weathered the worst of Daylight Savings in our house, M and I are taking a brain downtime break. It involves not talking and eating pie. Currently, this is working well for both of us.

Yay pie!!

In the days since the time change, every day seems to get a little better. Although bedtime is now combined with copious screaming. That’s when I curse the lighter evening sky and seriously consider blackout shades.

Boo venetian blinds!

Anyways, V lately is a little monster. He teeters between sweet and mischievous.

Teacher: “Vince learned to say ‘I love you’ today!! Vince….. ‘Love you!!”

Vince: “Wuv ooo”

Me: “Aw!!! Vince!!  I love you!!

Vince: “No.”

Can you say broken heart? I tried so hard to not let that show, but it actually hurt. Isn’t it funny how those little things sting?

And then last night, after wailing away upstairs for a while,  I gave in and climbed to the second floor and cracked the door. There he was, jumping in his crib, crying and sounding so forlorn.

Ok, I am a sucker. And V has some mad manipulative skills.

In I went and scooped that Little Man up, thinking that a snugs in the big bed would calm him down.

I carried him into our room and up we climbed and pulled the duvet over us. There we lay, face to face, and Vince had the hugest toothy grin. He was so pleased that he won, you could just tell.

Face to face, we grinned at each other.

Then I laughed.

Then he laughed.

And the more I laughed, the more he laughed. There we were, just grinning and gazing at each other, laughing away. It was just the most gorgeous 10 minutes of my life.

Toddle

Did you know that two is a terrible number?

I thought, for about 20 months, that it wasn’t that bad. Actually, I thought that maybe other people were making it out to be worse that I had heard. And then literally 2 days after V hit the 21 month zone, it all went straight down the toilet.

And by toilet, I mean an actual toilet. As in things went in the toilet (wash clothes, hands and almost a face) and then were quickly removed (by Mummy). And then other things entered the toilet. And this second time it was actually something that should be in there.

And it wasn’t poo. Or a duck. OR a turtle.

It was a toilet brush. Who is stupid enough to keep a toilet brush behind the toilet? Clearly me. Did you know that almost two-year-olds like to do things that their Mummies do? Apparently I clean the toilet enough that he knows how to.

I was out of the room for 15 seconds and when I came back? Drenched. Whatever. I was so over it by then. Or at least I thought I was.

And then he climbed into his tub, put the plug in, turned the water on and proceeded to play in his clothes in the water.

It was a deep sigh moment for me.

And then he didn’t want to eat dinner.

And then he didn’t want his nose wiped.

And then he didn’t want to drink his milk bottle.

And then he didn’t want me to carry him.

And then he didn’t want me to not carry him.

And then he hated everything that I was doing and not doing for eternity and beyond.

And then he went to bed. And then I poured myself a big glass of wine. And then I realized that two was closer than I thought. And then I connected the dots.

Oh. Shit.

2 days of this naughtiness was awful. I actually contemplated spanking. For real!! And then I thought I was pretty sure I couldn’t. *Thought* But then he made me use his middle name more times in 2 days then in his whole entire life. And granted, that has been 21 months at this point, but I used it A LOT.

Is this ‘boys’? Is this ‘terrible twos”? Is this Italian plus Irish plus Canadian? (The Canadian part is clearly the non-argumentative part, although Mike might disagree with that… although, since he never reads this, it doesn’t matter!! hahahahaha

Dude. For real. I know there are books and things out there about this, but surely those people who wrote those books never experienced it! Otherwise those books would be totally different.

Anyways, I am exhausted.

xoxo a.m.

Sharp

It’s Spring. Spring always makes me want to clean, something that I wish would affect my husband as well…

I think it must just be that lovely fresh air. There is just something about it that makes you want to rejuvenate your whole life. Starting with your house.  Mostly your bathroom.

And so that’s where I started yesterday. Well, I initially started in Home Depot, with a gift card, the Little man, a shopping cart, a desire to teach him how to say ‘Awesome!!!” and a complete and total lack of shame.

A baby makes people do your bidding. And climb ladders. And give you stickers.

$200 later, I emerged with several stickers, a can of ‘Blueberry patch’ paint for my bathroom, a new ceiling fan that was tres expensive and new window blinds for my bathroom.

And this is where the story gets good.

It involves me, V, 3 different sized screwdrivers, the top floor of my townhouse and my eagerness to get started on my rejuvenation project.

I was pretty sure that he would entertain himself with his toys while I fussed in the bathroom. And he did for a short period of time. And then got bored and climbed into the bathtub. Happily I was working right above him, I was attempting to removing the old crappy blinds.  This room contained the only crap blind remaining from the previous owners. The only crap blind they didn’t take.

I got stuck on a stripped screw (teehee~), I guess I just physically don’t have the strength to get that mother out of the wall. But I thought I did. And I certainly made quite an effort.

Such an effort, in fact, that my feet got sweaty and slipped on the porcelain tub, which made me hip-check the wall which, in turn, dislodged part of my towel rack…

Those hips of mine are so sharp that they popped a wall fixture right out of its socket.

There is now a hole in my wall.

This was a bit of a shock. I was looking to do some renovating, but not quite as soon as this. I am holding off on any home improvements until my father-in-law sets up camp on my second floor…

Watch out. I’ve got some sharp poppers.

Two

Did you know that M and I will have been married for 5 years next month? And also that V will be 2 years old in June.

To me, both of these things are rather exciting but, mostly, I am in shock.

Not so much about number 1 (that man is locked in forever)but definitely number 2. Number 2 is going to be 2! Although really he’s number 1. So number one is going to be 2… (my mind is giggling right now, it’s usually in the gutter anyways…).

Anyways, things have been changing over here in the last week or so. A sign of things to come? Of schedules to be disrupted?

It started off Sunday. My fault. Back from Spin class and feeling full of energy, I showered, shaved and felt alive. It was 3 pm and he was still sleeping. As far as I was concerned, that was too late to be sleeping and if he slept longer we would totally be f’d in the A.

So I woke him up. Sweetly, of course, and with many a gentle whisper and caress. Would you like to guess how all of my sweet efforts were greeted? With huge gulping, sobbing, wet, gasping cries. With big head-shakes at the mention of ‘Daddy’. And ever further head-shakes and wailing ‘Noooooo’ ‘s at the mention of Chewie the dog.

And the crying didn’t stop there. It continued for a good 15 minutes. And the day didn’t get any better from there. M just looked at me, gave me a total side-eye.

The rest of the day was just a huge, whiny, temper-tantrumy mess. So was the evening. So was dinner. And so was bath-time.

Bath-time was actually so bad it was kind of funny. Lowered into the lovely tub, all he did was wail from the time his feet touched the water. And then he tried to climb out. And then, when he couldn’t, he proceeded to wail and wail and wail like he was being scalded (which he wasn’t, for the record).

And bedtime that followed wasn’t much better. In fact, bedtime took place at 6:45, 8 pm, 10 pm, 11 pm and 1 am.

And Monday night wasn’t much better.

Tuesday was a slight improvement.

Happily Wednesday night was fine and so was Thursday.

So what the hell was all of that? In 3 months, he’ll be 2. Is it that? He’s getting quite opinionated. He will no longer ‘Moo’ on command. This disappoints me.

On the other had, he is developing a delicious sense of humour that is so infectious I just want to nibble on him. The giggles, the cheeky smiles, the mischievous looks and the endless “tic-el-tic-el-tic-el-tic-el” noises that he makes…

So if this is the terrible twos, I’ll take it.  Those grins make those weary nights worthwhile…