Big Deal

Lord almighty, did life just get more interesting?

And I say this with a question mark because I am not really sure.  And I will explain why. But just a heads up. It does involve poop.

Getting ready for bed last night was a little rushed because Daddy and V went for a long walk (to buy sandwiches) while I went to spin class. I got home just before them and took over the night-time duties.

We are half-assed potty-training right now. He will sit on the potty and get a treat fs he does. So mostly he wants a ‘teet’ and then gets right off the potty.

Last night I decided to make him count on the potty. When we hit 5, he got a treat and when we finished with 10 he got one more treat. The goal here was just to get him to sit a little longer in the hopes that something would happen.

See where this is going?

Magically there was a poop in the toilet.

I literally looked at it and thought “Now where on earth did that come from?!” Clearly it couldn’t have come from the little bum that was perched on top on the potty seat.

Wha?!t It did? I think Vince was confused as well. I had to tell him what was in there. We looked at it. “Vince poopoo in the potty!! Yay!!” said Mummy.

Vince: “Yayyyyyyyy!!” And then he looked confused. “V!! Poopoos in the potty!!!! Yay!! good boy!!! Awesome!!,”, shouted Mummy.

V: “Awesome!! Yayyyyyy!”

We had to call Daddy up, who also had to look in the toilet and then do some really loud clapping and some heavy praising of the event.

Dude. We hyped that poop the m-f up. We clapped. We shouted. We yelled “Yay poopoo!!!” It was an Event.

And so this morning, we tried it again. No dice. I almost expected that.

I went and bought another book about the potty today, complete with a button that you push which ‘flushes’ the toilet. I showed it to him. He said “No book”. I pretended to read it with great excitement. V said “No Mama no book.” Well. Shit.

Wish me luck tomorrow morning. We will be trying this event again… First thing in the morning. Perhaps we will get lucky. Right?

xoxo a.m.

Five

Five is the number that we celebrated yesterday.

Yup. That’s right. M and I hit the big 5. It kind of feels like a deep inhale and long and thorough exhale. One of those yogic ones where literally no breath is left in your body. A thorough oxygenation of your physical being. We are now ready for some heavy-duty relationship stuff. Maybe another baby. Maybe another dog?

It will be quite interesting to see what the next 5 years brings.

We always eat at some crazy fancy kind of restaurant for these sort of events. M always picks. He likes to surprise me too, so I never know where we are going. That makes it extra fun for both of us.

Last night?

Reservations at California Grill, on the 15th floor of the Contemporary Resort at DisneyWorld. And storm clouds were a’rollin’ in  as we were heading up and being seated. M had asked for a window seat and so there we were…noses pressed to the glass (me mostly) as we took in the gorgeous view of the Castle in the distance and the lights of Disney spread out all around. And those storm clouds. And then the rain. And the crazy Floridian lightning.

Dinner:

Spicy Kazan Roll . . . Crab, Shrimp, Bay Scallops, Tuna, and Fireball Sauce

Crispy Chicken with Leek and Manchego Fondue, Truffled Whipped Potatoes, Pinot Noir Chicken Glaze

Oak-fired Filet of Beef with Tillamook Cheddar Gratin, Broccolini, and Teriyaki Barbecue

One amazing cheese course, several unbelievably expensive glasses of wine and the most ridiculous dessert finished the night off.

Food coma are the best 2 words to describe what I fell into when we got home. Apparently there was a rip-roarer of a storm last night. However I was firmly under in the land of truffle scented potatoes, rich Merlot, cypress leaf wrapped cheese and medium rare filets. No wonder I didn’t wake up at all.

Mmmhmmmm, I sure do love these fancy dinners.

As we were heading to the elevator on our way back down from food bliss, I noticed a little something on my calf. A bright red band-aid, right next to my pretty shoes. It went quite nicely with my pretty dress, my borrowed handbag and my freshly shaved legs. The life of a fulltime working Mum is such that shaving my legs is relegated to the back corner of ‘things to do’.

And that is probably why I cut myself while I was shaving yesterday. It was like I was 12 years old all over again, t felt like it had been that long. And my legs agreed. It was a long shower.

I think the gorgeous diamond earrings from my husband of five years made up for that ridiculous band-aid though. Right?

As I am still recovering from my food coma, I’ll cut this short…

xoxo a.m.

Sweet

Reading over my last few posts, I feel like I have fallen into a rut of sharing only the ‘poo, crying and general unpleasantness’ stories that is my life. I hope you don’t think that is the only things that happen over here. Nice things happen too. And sweet things.

V’s vocab is expanding by leaps and bounds right now. Current phrases:

“Awesome dude!”

“No Monkey”

No car shoes” (Pushing aside his ‘Lightening McQueen’ shoes and dragging  out his Spiderman shoes instead)

Random pig and cow noises and, sometimes if we are really lucky, the sweetest kitty and baby bird noises too.

“Bubbles?!?!” (to his bubble bucket on the bac k porch)

“Mummy, park? No park.” (as it started raining on the way home yesterday)

‘Mumma, push?” (to me in the garage. He likes to watch the door go up and down)

M just taught him how to tickle and so there is extra cute laughter in our house lately. V’s tickle technique is so funny.

He approaches you with one finger extended and pokes you once, and then leaves that finger there. “Tickle.” he says solemnly. And you are expected to giggle like a crazy person. Lord help you if you do not.

He has recently become totally obsessed with Chewie the Chihuahua. Poor Chewie… it’s almost too much attention for him (and since all he wants is constant attention, that is saying a lot). V wants Chewie to say ‘good night’ to him every night. He wants to see Chewie every morning when he wakes up. He wants to play tug-of-war with him all day long and wants to pat him all day too. This tends to make bedtime rather difficult.

It also makes bedtime rather cute. So do V’s requests for me to stay in the chair next to his bed. “Mumma, chair? Mumma. CHAIR.”

So even though there are the most ridiculous poop-filled events going on over here. Even though I feel like we are on the verge of maxing out our medical benefits for the year on the little man. Even though there are a large amount of molars on the horizon. And even though it sometimes feels like I am drowning in vomit, poo, tears and emotional exhaustion…there are too many overriding sweet things happening at the same time that sometimes might get ignored or pushed to the wayside a little.

I promise to make a better effort to balance out these posts so you are all not making frowny faces while you read. I really want you to make some happy faces! Or at least some kind of happy faces.

Off to watch Cap’t Kirk rescue some whales in the 80’s…

xoxo a.m.

X-Ray

V and I went to the Hospital yesterday.

As I learned, it is certainly a nice thing to know a little about where you are going. So, for example, you don’t park on the opposite side of the building and then have to trot in heels carrying a 32 pound child on your hip(s).

Unfortunately, I didn’t. And so I used “Hi!! I’m not sure if I need to be here or somewhere else! Can’t you help me?”repeatedly plus a cheerful tone of voice. This got me up to the 3rd floor and then down to the first and then, happily, to the exact opposite of where my car was (building-wise).

20 minutes late I arrived at admissions. As I plunked V down on the admissions counter, that plunk issued a rather strong odor that mushroom-clouded around my face and that of the girl inputting our info. I think she typed a little faster. The stink got stronger, the typing got faster.

Oh my little stinker… Although I was concerned about being late for the x-ray, I NEEDED to change that bum. And while we were getting changed, we met a crazy lady.

“Oh baby oh baby oh baby, good baby boy good. If you are good Mummy will give you candy! Yes, you will get candy! I will give you candy!!” she cried as she walked past us on her way to a bathroom stall. Who was she? Um, I didn’t know. But at the thought of her offering V candy, I did the quickest change ever, super washed my hands and did a runner.

Yikes.

Ok. X-ray. Here we come. And there we stayed. In the waiting room. Forever. The odor of poo followed us in there. And why did it follow us? Well, that’s because there was more poo. Of course there was. And of course it was the last diaper. (“The last diaper? How is that even possible?” M asked me later. He got a total huge side-eye for that one) And of course we went right from the bathroom directly to a small enclosed waiting room. And, well, you know… That is just my life.

One lead vest later, we attempted the test. V was not cooperative. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be either. The first shot was ok. A standing profile. There we were, facing each other, trying to let the tech get a side shot. I knelt down to a bit more to be on his level and well, darn it, he knelt down too. So cute!! It wasn’t quite what was needed to get the shot, but it sure made me laugh…

I didn’t know they needed to do 2 shots but apparently it’s a requirement. The second shot was a horizontal shot. I had to lower him onto a table, hold his head still and with the other arm, pin his arms down while the tech held his legs. He was so scared he couldn’t even move. He just cried and lay still while Mummy whispered ‘brave boy’ over and over again. Ick.

But before all of this?

While we were waiting, V got a little restless. And by little, I mean a lot. We took a walk and encountered the ‘Disney Pavilion’ at the hospital. It was a whole interactive jungle themed corner, with characters from The Jungle Book and Finding Nemo. Quite cute actually, but something about it hit V the wrong way. And then he saw a monkey and it terrified him.

“No monkey no monkey no monkey no monkey,” he whimpered. This was quickly followed by “No fish no fish no fish no fish” when we left the pavilion and walked past an aquarium. Huh.

No fish and no monkey followed us all the way through both waiting rooms, the scan room, the actual scan, back up to the 3rd floor, down to the 1st and through the parking garage, all the way home in the rain and into the house.

“Daddy!! No fish!!!!!!! Noooooooo monkey,” he shouted on our arrival home.

And this morning when he woke up?

“Mummy!! Mummmmmmmmmy! No fish. No. No fish. No monkey. Monkey? NO monkey.”

Isn’t it funny how it is the little things that affect the most? It’s the fish and the monkeys and the butterflies (right Tara?). And so I wonder today as I listened to him talk about monkeys and fish, will these things be a permanent scar? Did I just accidently scar my child for life? Were those fish and that monkey so scary, plus the X-ray, that those three things are now permanently burned together and will always be associated?

Lord, I hope not! No more trips to the zoo for us.

On the plus side of things, the x-ray showed that his adenoids are not enlarged. They are normal. It did, however, show 4 molars. 4 new molars that haven’t shown up ye., 4 molars that are, apparently, about about to totally erupt through his jaw at any moment.

Sweet!!!!!!! Awesome!!!!!!! Dude!!! (3 words of V’s that seem appropriate)

For real, I know you are so jealous. Right?

xoxo a.m.

Fine

As the week progresses, the saga of the Big Boy Bed continues…

And, as always with a 2 year old, it is a learning experience. Not just about them, but about oneself as well.

Tuesday night, after I got home I headed right to spin class. M stayed home with Little Man, made him dinner and did the whole bedtime routine. I got home at 7:22. I remember the exact time because I was shocked that the house was so quiet.

“How did it go?” I asked curiously.

“Piece of cake,” he said.

“Really? No drama?”

“Nope. Not really,” he said abstractedly as he googled or binged or whatever it was he was doing on the laptop.

Huh.

Well. Um. I didn’t really know what to say to that. Maybe he just had a lucky night.

And tonight? Dinner went fine, bath-time went fine, story-time went fine. Everything went fine fine fine fine fine. It was all fine. Really just plain fine. And then we closed the door. M headed downstairs while I hovered nervously outside V’s bedroom door, listening to him cry. I bit my lip repeatedly. I nibbled on my thumbnail.

And while I did this, I listened to the saddest sounds you have ever heard in your whole life. “Mummy! Mummy mummy mummy mummy mummy mummy. MUMMY. Mummy~~~~~~!” I was so sad I started to cry. And then I heard him get off his bed and head for the door and try to open it. That little knob twitched back and forth but he couldn’t quite turn it enough. That was followed by some extremely sad little noises.

I gave in. I opened the door.

“Mummy!”, he cried happily. “Mummy. Yes. Mummy. Yes. Mummy? Yes.” he said as he ran over and sat on his bed. This I took (correctly) to mean that I was supposed to lie down on his bed with him.

I am a sucker. My child is manipulative.

And my son knows this. And after he was settled, I went down and told my husband this. Before I even got halfway through what I was trying to say, he was nodding in agreement. “You are a total sucker,” he agreed. Geee. Thanks Hun!

Mummy is a not as strict as she thought she was. Mummy is, in fact, rather easy to manipulate (kid-wise). Daddy can get V to hold his hand while out for a walk. Mummy?? Less successful.

And tonight? Mummy cooked dinner for V, with V on her hip. If Mummy attempted to put V down, he did a total leg-clench, shrieked “No down. NO DOWN!” at the top of his lungs. If I succeeded in putting him down, he cried, clung to my leg and kept trying to climb up it by using the same technique he employed when escaping from his crib last weekend. And so I cooked dinner with one hand and burned my finger with boiling macaroni water.

High-five Mummy!

It’s kind of embarrassing to realize that your child has, in fact, completely wrapped you around their very small finger. I am, in fact, in full-on worship mode right now. I haven’t quite hit punishment mode, or time-out mode. I find them rather intimidating. I wonder if I am using 2 as an excuse. Is 2 too much for me? Why is M better at handling these things than I am? When did I wimp out and melt all over the place over sloppy kisses? And when did those sloppy kisses turn into some sort of hypnotic control that makes me do his bidding.

Is there too much love? Is that possible? Should I really actually read that book I bought a month ago about punishment for toddlers?

Mummy needs to toughen up. Just a little though. I don’t want to be a total pushover, just an easy cave-in.

xoxo a.m.

Big Bed

Big boy bed: Part 2

aka Sunday Night Hell

aka I saved the drama for my Mama

Saturday night was rough, but Sunday was rougher. M and I awoke at 8 am after various bed switching, with the tiredest eyes you have ever seen in your life. And the most cheerful boy in the world. Half the family slept well (that would be Chewie and V).

I felt exactly like the day after I climbed Mt Fuji. Worn to the bone. But strangely energetic. I didn’t even take a shower, there just wasn’t enough time!!

We had things to do! And one of them involved visiting a puppy. Total top priority. Really important. And then visit Gramma Sassy and Pop-Pop.And then buy new door knobs for most of our interior doors (none of them have round knobs, but rather more of a handle thing which is really easy to open). And then try to wear our child out.

Because Sunday was a no-nap day. Which I thought was funny, as I really really really wanted a nap. But V wouldn’t not co-operate. So we settled for a pool-date out back in the courtyard. The plan? Sunshine and water can make the hardiest of people pass out from exhaustion.

This did not work. He played forever out there and I had pry him away from the little pool. He ate a HUGE dinner and continued to run a muck everywhere.

Finally, faces grey with exhaustion, M and I made a fabulous parental decision. Bed-time. It was time.

We made it extra alluring by adding a Skype call with Nanna and Grampa in Canada. And we talked up the bed. Talked it the motherf’ing up!!

Well, lets just cut to the chase. He cried. But he was really tired, so I think that encouraged him to get cosy in those blankets. And also, we switched his door knob out, so he can’t open his door anymore.

Go ahead. Judge away. I don’t care.

But that small little change is really helping us train him to stay in his bed and room at night. And once he is used to it? Then that door will open back up. My little monkey is just too wiggly to stay in bed. And my little monkey likes to climb baby-gates. Oh, and my little monkey tried to climb his dresser to get at his new night-light (that I ended up turning off and hiding). and I had a mini-heart attack while trying to stop him.

And after all of this? I headed downstairs, microwaved a veggie patty and slapped it between 2 slices of bread.

Nice. Must work on that.

xoxo a.m.

Night-night!

Dude. Have I ever had a crazy weekend.

It started innocently enough, the regular Friday night things. I always order pizza on Friday nights and the delivery driver always can’t find my house. Always. V went night-nights like a charm, I munched out and planned my Saturday (which was going to involve Ikea and possibly breakie with Darling Cousin)

Mission

accomplished and we headed home for a nap (and a run for me). I thought V would take a nice long nap and so you can imagine my surprise when Little Man was up with Daddy in the kitchen.

Sweating  and panting, I entered the kitchen to be welcomed by my Mother-In-Law on speakerphone. “Hi Jaime”. “Hi Fran”.

M announced, “So, during my shower, I was interrupted by a knock at the door. I thought it was you, Jame. Turns out it was V”.

Me: “What the hell?!?!”

M: “Mom, I’ve got to go. Jame doesn’t want you to hear the words she is about to use”.

I used some big, shocking words. Quietly, of course and also covering my son’s ears. I then followed M upstairs, while carrying V, and received a demonstration of V’s latest skill.

Holy shit was it ever the freakiest thing. Legs swinging like monkeys, twisting and manipulating that little body he squirmed his way up so his body was lying horizontal on the edge of the crib. Then, balancing on his ribcage, he slowly lowered himself. Jeeez-Us.

And so that was it. The death of the crib. Several calls to my handy Father-In-Law later plus one expensive trip to Target, we were set. Eclipse curtains, curtain rods, bed set. Check!

And then? Then Hell arrived at my house and settled down for the night.

That big bed was scary. And V didn’t want to try it out, not matter how fun and cosy it was. No matter that it still had all of his little night-time friends. And blankets. No matter, V was not interested in any of it.

He cried. Cried and cried and cried and cried. And cried. He cried so much that his hair was soaked. My shirt was soaked. Everything was soaked. And as the minutes passed, the sobs got more and more heartbreaking. By this time, we had moved on from the chair to the bed, where he sobbed and tossed back and forth on me. Because despite all of this crying, he was exhausted. And during all of this crying? His eyes were shut.

The sobs wound down and the gasping, sobbing breaths began. Gasping and sobbing right into Mumma’s chest. Finally, he settled down. I sneaked-crawled off the bed and called my Mum. And during the call, he started crying again. I snuck back in, comforted him and then snuck out when he settled in…

And then I called my Mum again.

Around 3:30 I was woken up by someone poking me in the face, saying “Naaaasss!!! (nose) Maaaasssssue! (mouth) Naaaaaase! Mumma! Mumma? Mumma!! Mumma naass! ” Lots of little fingers poked me all over the face and guess what? Suddenly I was awake. As I opened my eyes, my vision was obscured by a huge grin.

Little Man slept 8 hours in his bed like a big boy!!

And didn’t go back to bed for 2 1/2 more hours. And then only went back to sleep because I slept with him (around 5:30), and then woke up around 8 am. Thank you blackout curtains!!

So we managed. And even though I felt like I ripped my sons childhood out from under him and even though I made him cry until I thought my heart would wrench right out of my chest. And even though yesterday evening, I cried too because I felt like I hurt my boy. And I cried because childhood is a fast and fleeting thing, or so it seems last night to Mummy.

And then this morning? While V pointed out the parts of our face, name Daddy, Mummy, Chewie and then shyly added his name to the list of “Who’s that?”, childhood reappeared.

Oh my son, my little little man. Not my baby boo anymore, but my shy and charming toddler, I love you. And I am sorry.

But honey? Your big bed and you snuggled up in it’s messy blankets is the sweetest thing ever.

Love you, Mummy…

(and love you too a.m.)

Flex

I skipped my run tonight because of V. Not that anything awful happened. Just because I wanted to pick up that fat little body and kiss that chubby face. And scrub that plump tush in the tub and read him some stories about cats and farm animals. And just love all over him.

Sometimes skipping out is the best thing ever.

And sometimes it’s not. Here’s a good example of why.

‘They’ say it always wise to rotate the side you carry your child on, to balance yourself. I guess I got in the habit of carrying V on my right side, carrying him on my left side just felt awkward. Like that side was my dead side. I am right-handed, not a sinister person. So while carrying V on my left-side freed up my right hand to do, I never felt properly balanced.

So I am a right-sided carrier.

So I’ve been doing a lot of running and spin class lately, which have been toning me up. I’ve been noticing it in my arms, especially my biceps. Damn position 2 and 3 and modified 3!!

I was checking myself out the other day and noticed some nice definition in my upper arms. I must admit I did a bit of flexing in the mirror. Some turns and flexes. A little bit of California posing.

And then a bit of pausing and scrutinizing. And then a puzzled face. And then a face of dawning comprehension.

My biceps are uneven.

Wanna know why?

Because I favour.

And because my son weights 31 pounds. So a constant 31 pounds on one side is guaranteed to mean some sweet muscle-building action.

I publicly flexed at work yesterday and demonstrated my left-sided lack of definition. There was laughter. I don’t blame them!

I either need to go and buy a 30 lb weight and repeatedly exercise with it, day and night. Or (less expensively) just carry V on my other side. Doing that might literally make me walk into walls, I’ll be so off-balanced. Or circles. Or just stand in one spot, looking lost.

Suggestions?

xoxo a.m.

eh?

Rejuvenation continues.

Things I have forgotten to mention in the last few months.

Crochet and I are on the outs. We are having a huge fight right now and it has been relegated to the bottom drawer in my closet.

What’s in my pants these days?? Painting my bathroom. Painting my house. Painting in general.

As for my rejuvenation project? It is going well. Spin class and I? So good. And spinning as totally amped up my conditioning. I can easily run 3 miles and all of this exercise has encouraged M to get back on the exercise wagon. We are planning to do some short competitive runs in the next few months.

Work is work. You know how it is. Hoping for more, hopefully it will get there, but will manage with where I am for now.

M is working like a crazy beast, 2 jobs, too many projects and not enough spare time. And so this is why I love Daddy and V time. It’s just the perfect thing to offset all of that time when he doesn’t have enough.

And the Little Man? Finally on the up and up. Although one would never even know that he was sick, even when he was sick. Because of all of the wonderful mini-nosebleeds that he has been having, his Dr has ordered and Xray, which we are scheduled to have in the next few weeks.

Scheduling that was rather interesting. I am on first name basis with the head of Florida Hospital’s scheduling department and that is who I went straight to.

Middle of the conversation:

FH: The xray will take about 15 minutes. Do you think he can sit still for that long?

AM: Um. Well, I have seen him sit still before. Not often, but it has happened.

FH: Hahahahaha.

AM: Haha…..um. Ya.

So, this will be another experience.

Bit of a ramble tonight, eh? Just an update. Just a ‘heads up’. Just a wee blather, eh? Eh?

xoxo a.m.

Rocks

M is on Spring Break right now and home with the Little Man. Today marked the first day of the two of them alone. Together. Without Mummy. And since V has been a little Mummy-clingy lately, I wondered how the day would go…

I hurriedly drove home from work, wondering what would greet me as I returned. Would it be ‘House destructo’? Or perhaps ‘Collapso-Daddy~0’? Or even super grinny ‘Mischievous-Munchkin~o’ plus ‘Exhaust~o Papi’?

It was none of the above.

I pulled up to the garage and hit the remote. As the garage door rolled up, I noticed with a shock that there was another car parked there. As in not my car. As I am the only one that parks there. Mostly because I can’t figure out how to park my car in the garage to allow for another car to fit in there. Selfish, I know.

So as I walked through the garage, I heard these sweet giggles and these hearty laughs coming through the door.

As I walked from the garage into the courtyard, I saw Little man in his diaper and tee-shirt in an inflatable pool, with M sitting next to him laughing.

“Jame!! Rocks are awesome!” he shouted at me as I walked through the door and as V threw them with force at the pool surface (that he was standing in).

Splash!!!!!! The water shot up into V’s face and he laughed like a maniac.

“Yes!!” he shouted!

Literally, V shouted yes over and over with each rock he threw into his inflatable pool. And there were a lot of rocks in that pool.

“Rocks,” he said in a solemn voice as he looked up at me, his diaper sagging down to his calves with water intake. His tee-shirt was soaked. His hair stuck up all over the place. His face was a study in concentration and joy at the same time.

M turned to me and said “He was so scared when I brought it out, he literally wouldn’t go anywhere near it. I had to bribe him with candy.”

Turning and looking at V in the pool, my little water-baby in action, that made me laugh.

“I had to hold it over the middle of the pool. And as I did, V turned and looked at me and totally heaved a huge sigh and stepped into the pool, ” M side-eyed me with the story as we both watched V-Diddy throw rocks in the pool.

Huh. My child, bribed by food. Hm. Italian blood. Ha.

And some West Coast blood as well. He stayed in that pool for 30 more minutes, throwing rocks, splashing around.

Mike emerged from the house while I was lounging, watching V splash with the announcement, ” We now own our first squirt gun,”he proclaimed.

“Jame. It’s a shark.”

This was a serious announcement.

And it was a serious moment, full of shark squirting, solemn rock dropping, super big grins and some big applause from Mummy.

It looks like Daddy and V week is right on schedule.

xoxo a.m.