Monthly Archives: May 2010

Beach

So the family hit up the beach a few weeks ago. We drove out to our ‘secret spot’, which is basically 4 or 5 miles South of Cocoa beach.That’s all of the details you will get regarding that location. No lifeguards. No crowds. Clean water, clean sand and it was really nice and empty.

M and I were more prepared this time. We brought an umbrella. And also more than one towel. AND I actually brought a bathing suit this time instead of impromptly stripping down to my bra like last time.

Oh how I love the beach. Being a West Coast girl and all, it has always been a part of my life and that is something that needs to be part of V’s roots too. Even if we have to drive for an hour to get to one, it will be part of him.

And the beach has been more and more on my mind since Vince’s second birthday is rapidly approaching. I have been having all of these awesome childhood memories of hours and hours spent at the beach when my cousins and I were little. Up and down Qualicum and Nanaimo’s sandy beaches. Imagined treasure hunting. Endless shell collecting. Those huge buckets of itty bitty crabs that we used to catch.

The sand castles with moats and water canals and sandy traps filled with said bucket of baby crabs.

So these are the things I imagine for V when we go.

But the South Florida beaches are not exactly a habitat for crabs. At least not the ones that I have been to. And the sand is different. And there is less seaweed. And no driftwood. The no driftwood part is odd. Beaches need to have above the high-tide area marked with ginormous, water-worn logs with gnarly, smooth, water-polished roots jutting haphazardly into the sand and sky.

Otherwise it just isn’t a proper beach. It’s a naked, boring vanilla beach.

I shouldn’t complain too much though, it’s not like it’s torture to go to a Florida beach. It’s still lovely. And V loves it so much. It might actually have bypassed the awesomeness of the pool at Sassy and PopPop’s house. ‘Might’

V runs like a crazy man directly into the surf. No fear at all with the beach. He acts like it’s his home. And this comfort with the beach makes me laugh because take him to a water park?? Totally scared.

This clearly illustrates to me that he is not comfortable with tourist trappings and revels in the beautiful sanctity of nature.

That’s my boy. You may be a physical clone of your father, but parts of me surface from time to time. All the good parts. Not that I have any bad parts. I’m just too perfect.

And it looks like V is following in his mother’s footsteps… Straight to the beach darling, straight to the water my surfer boy in training, straight to the coast my sweets… Salt water is in your blood…

Sandy back and lightly shadowed skin makes me want to kiss you sweetly...

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Mermaids

V, Shell and boogs

Oh gosh, how I love surprises. And M knows that painfully obvious secret about me. And so? We took a road trip, with a secret destination…

We hit up the Tampa Aquarium. Something that I had been interested in going to since V discovered fish. I thought he’d get a kick out of it. Especially since all fish are ‘Nemo’.

Let me just say, it was a total disappointment. Total tourist central, which I guess isn’t surprising since it is located right next to the Cruise Ship terminal. So that was one huge point against. And then? Well, then it was just plain ol’ bad.

Bad taste, bad exhibits, sad gators and well, just bad. BAD.

It was like a sad zoo for fish. Which I guess is exactly what an aquarium is. God. Awful. And then they tacked a ‘water park’ on the end of it. Ugh.

And then the whole purpose of our trip because clear. The Weeki Watchee Mermaids were there for the weekend.

Say whaaa?!

Oh thats right!! You heard me! My Florida dream come true. For years I have wanted to see them perform, and now I didn’t have to pay a ridiculous amount of money and drive all over Florida to see them.

Hurray!!

And then Boo!! It was a special showing for 15 minutes only and the exhibit was overly full. Crap. V didn’t care, there were things to crawl over and in and stuff to point and touch. He didn’t care about no stinking mermaids.

We wandered and laughed all over the exhibit. It was just so darn bad. And then just before we were about to leave, I found one last corner unexplored. And guess what? In that unexplored area was the tank where the mermaids were performing.

Thank you Gods!!! Thank you!! One more thing off the list of tacky stuff to do in Florida.

And they were so gorgeously tacky, kind of slutty and all sorts of bad. Mummy Like.

But ladies, I love you. Thank you for making my afternoon. V liked ‘Nemo’. M liked the part of the exhibit that had fake smoke.

Those mermaids saved it. For me anyways. Not sure about anyone else.

Although judging from the person behind me while V and I were looking at turtles. “I’m gonna get a picture of this damn turtle if it’s the last thing I do. We spent $80 damn dollars on admission and if I want damn picture of a turtle, I’ll get one! And then we’ll leave!”

I don’t think the mermaids saved it for her…

xoxo a.m.

p.s.: they totally did it for me… ūüėČ

Surprise!

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Pearl(s)

On a daily basis, I have interesting conversations with many many people. I would say that approx. 75% of those conversations are with people who sigh heavily and stress and ’emergency’ of some sort (I work in a doctors office).Of that 75%, about 100% of them are disappointed that we are unable to attend to their problem immediately.

As for the other 25%? Well, they are a motley mix of the elderly and the really elderly. And the really really elderly.

Can I just say that I love those conversations? They really are the most peaceful moments of my days. And almost violently peppered with ‘Sirs’ and Ma’am’s’. Oh God. I love the South and their proper ways.

Yesterday afternoon, in the middle of the “I have an emergency the afternoon before a long weekend’ never ending conversations, I had such a nice break.

She proclaimed that she was 75. And could I even believe it? Could I even?

No, I assured her, I couldn’t. And anyways, I added, that was extremely young.

She tsk-tsked me and laughed and we set up her appointment. At the end of the conversation she gave me these pearls of wisdom.

“This is what happens. Your mind stays at about 30, while your body continues to grow old. It’s very disconcerting to find sometimes that you simply are not capable of doing somethings, especially when your mind assures you you can! So I may look 75, but really honey, I’m the same age as you”.

Doesn’t that just make you think? And then re-examine the people around you?

“Thank you, darling” she laughed.

“You’re welcome, Ma’am”, I replied. I cannot wait to meet her next week. She just might be my new favorite person.

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Keys (and tonsils)

This might be the final installment in my tonsillitis saga. Why? Because I think I might be getting better!! My throat does not feel like I am swallowing razors, I have a teeny bit of energy and I got an extra 5 hours of sleep this morning. And I can eat real food. Well, I am about to eat real food and then go straight to bed and curl up with my bff Buffy.

So I decided not to inflict my disease on the office and kindly stayed home. Very nice of me, I thought. There was rather a lot of sleep. And rather a lot of Buffy. And rather a lot of Slurpees.

Post-morning nap, I woke up with a really sore throat and the thought of icey cold Coke slurpees on my mind. Still in an antibiotic coma, I stumbled downstairs grabbed my wallet and phone and headed for the back door.

I opened it, turned the lock and then looked at the lock. “What was I doing again”, I thought out-loud, “Oh, yeah, getting my keys”. I reached for my keys, stopped and then reached to lock the door again. I obsess about making sure the doors are locked.

I walked outside, shut the door and then reached in my pocket for my keys to lock the deadbolt.

Except they weren’t there. They were still in the house, on the freakin’ kitchen counter. It literally took my brain a good minute to figure out what I had done. Those antibiotics are really strong. I actually tried to jimmy a window open, bare-handed, so I guess it really doesn’t count as ‘jimmy-ing’. That didn’t work out either.

I am so glad I had my phone. And I am so glad that my father-in-law is retired. And I am so glad that he was out driving around, because 15 minutes later he pulled up to our house with a huge grin. And laughing as he stepped into my courtyard with the spare key. He unlocked and left, laughing.

“Well, I bet that was embarrassing,” M said later when I told him what happened. “How did you manage to do that?”

“I don’t even know,” I replied honestly. “I really needed a slurpee.”

“Jame, thats just sad.”

“I know.”

And then he laughed at me. And later, apparently, called his Dad and told him it was OK to block my calls from now on. And then they laughed at me together. Nice.

My ‘antics’ are a source of much amusement for my husband. Even when those ‘antics’ are done while I am feeble, infirm and plague-ridden and barely able to walk or think.

Dude.

Anyways, the slurpee was extremely tasty and soothing. A few hours later I went back for another one.

We now have  a spare key that we hide in the garage.

My throat doesn’t hurt enough for Slurpees to be an emergency.

I am going to work tomorrow.

I am better!! (ish)

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Stupid tonsillitis

As the Black Plague tightens it’s grip on our household yet again, all I can say is “What. The. Hell.”

What the hell, immune system!! You are making me lose my faith in Vitamin C and herbal supplements.

Last week it was pink eye. The week before, M got a an infection in his tooth (I’m not going beyond 2 weeks, but I could if pushed). And now, tonsilitis? Really?

Currently I am on a steady dose of antibiotics and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, with razor-blade throat, ear pain and sad-eye face. It’s a whole pathetic picture.

As I may have mentioned before, I am not the best invalid. Making myself see Dr L this morning before work started was a big push for me. And then going home early, another big deal. And then once I got home? Well, hell. I knew I was feeling really rough when all I did was crawl into bed and press start and waited for Season 3 of Buffy to start.

So I’ve been good today. So very very good. Easy since I feel like the bottom of a toilet.

All I’ve been thinking about today, however, is things like running, spin class, not being sick, giving V kisses, talking, taking Vitamin C and actually having it work, not feeling like a stinky poo toilet, eating solid food…

I am totally having a super mope-fest over here.

I am just so darn annoyed to be sick. There is just too much sickness in this little house. I am starting to think we might be cursed.

So I have been throwing around ideas for things to do to shake this sickness of our little family. So far I have come up with one.

We need a healing fairy. And I know just the person to get one from. Aunt Nancy? Can you create one for me? I’m thinking she needs a green dress, that’s what I associate with healing, the Earth, growing things and feel it will promote the right kind of energy in the house.

(I do realize that Vitamins and other things perhaps would be more practical and effective, but I really feel that it’s a cleansing energy thing. Oh!! Maybe I need to smudge the house!)

Please send healing thoughts… and suggestions on sickness cleansing…

xoxoxo a.m.

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Sickness

I ended up with the crap part of the weekend. The serious crap part of it.

It involves a razor-sore throat, a fever and mega-exhaustion. And some popping ears. Any diagnosis my fellow ENT workers? I know I have a few thoughts regarding my condition. One of which is “Oh! Jeff is working at my office tomorrow! I think I’ll ‘schedule an appointment’ with him”.

I had such high hopes for this weekend too. I was going to get up super early on Saturday and squeeze in 3 miles before the family woke up. And then get my hair cut. And then go girlie clothes shopping with El Prima. How nice does this all sounds? And you know there would totally be an awesome Coke slurpee in that mix.

Well, no. Not at all.

Instead, there was a a sweaty-fever-filled night, followed by an early morning and then a 5 hour nap.

And then the rest of the day was a sort of sweaty blur.

And then I watched Buffy for 3 hours. And then I went to sleep.

I woke up this morning, slightly less sweaty and gross than the night previous, with my ears ringing with my husband saying “Do not even THINK about going running”. So instead, V and I went and got donuts, a (toy) school bus and a new dress. And then, when we got home, Mtook Little Man off to his parents house for hours while I attempted to gain both vision and balance back.

They didn’t come home until almost 5 pm.

And since I am the worse invalid ever, lets just say that my bathroom is almost completely painted. Seriously, my body cannot physically stand doing nothing. Inactivity makes me crazy.

And now, as I attempt to stay up later than I ever have in the last 5 years and watch the finale of LOST, the sickness and tiredness is hitting me up.

That plus the ever waking Little Man (who has literally been up 5 times this evening). Lost plus Sleep-interceptor equals awesome sickness weekend!!!

So I guess we will see. Can I stay up until 11:30 to finish it? Well V wake up again?  Will I survive work tomorrow? Will I need a Dunkachino in order to survive? What will happen on Lost? Will I even remember enough to discuss it with anyone?

Lord.

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Obsess

This is a really sad confession that I have to make to ya’ll… The reason that I haven’t been blogging much the last week and a half is that I have had to get something out of my system. And it’s a really sad something too. Something that I am pretty sure that at least one of my cousins will pee her pants laughing at (after the look of utter disdain she gives me).

Yup.

It’s Vampires. Or Vampyres. Either one.

I got the whole Twilight thing out of my system last year. Very enjoyable.

Then, after discovering True Blood on HBO, I hit the Sookie Stackhouse series hard, barely coming up for air in-between books. Now that was a delicious, explicitly sexy trip.

Then I took a bit of a break.

And then, 2 weeks ago, I got right back on the bus.

I picked up the first 2 books in the Morganville Vampire series. And 1 1/2 days later, I finished them.

And then I wasn’t anywhere near a proper book store for about a week. So, I headed back to Target and check out their book section again. There just happens to be one about 1/2 a block from my office, so I dashed in on my lunch break and dashed out with the first book in the House of Night series.

Geez. That was a brutal 6 days where I literally read one book a day. It had gone viral. I had  no resistance.

And I knew it had gotten really bad when I went to get tacos last week at Tijuana Flats and the most chipper and super genki-est, too cheerful girl at the counter applauded when she saw what I was reading. Told me it was the best ever. And then got so excited, she had to run to her purse and show me what she was reading right now. And I recognized the book cover. From Target.

Hey, so guess where I went the next day? Target. I got the first book. Read it. Got the second book, just finished it and picked up the third. So this is what I am reading right now. I am out of control.

M keeps saying things like “You know, there are such things as libraries”.

Well yeah. Of course there are. But you know what? I am obsessed. AND I am a pain in the ass. AND, well, I am apparently also about 17 years old and obsessed with vampires. Or Vampyres.

It’s just a phase right? Like Big Band music from the 90’s and Swing Dancing? Emo music? (or is that still going on?)

Well, I have to go and read The Dragon Heir now. I have to get it all out and then our house can return to normalcy. Really. Please wish me godspeed in reading…

xoxo a.m.

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Boys are gross

They really are. Really.

This last week, while we have rumbled with bedtime routines and rituals, V has totally discovered that awesome orifice that is the nasal cavity. And I say cavity, because he has somehow managed to get the majority of his hand right up his nose.

Bed-time and boogers apparently go hand in hand.

It was kind of funny actually. This past week, when V has said “Mamma too.”, I have crawled into bed with him and rubbed his back and soothed him until he has fallen asleep. This worked magnificently for about 3 days and then changed dramatically. And I guess what really changed is that he discovered that he could remove things from his nose. And put them in his mouth.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww….

So Thursday night, M was home late and I was in charge of V-man. We read some books about Puppies (capitalized as apparently they are that important) and cows (also quite important, but not capitalized and so) and then settled down with our sweet classical music.

He was a little restless, unusually  so for him. I cuddled next to his tossing and turning body and I was trying to stay super still and make a lot of deep-breathing noises. I had hoped that this would encourage him to be less restless.

He wiggled. He squirmed. Arms moved all over the place. My eyes were closed for about 4 minutes or so. Things seemed to calm down. I opened my eyes.

Finger right in cavity.

And then right in mouth. And then he said “Nummy yummy!!” And then I said “Ewwww” again. And then he laughed at me. And then those fingers reached over to my mouth and¬† patted my lips gently.¬† And¬† I tried not to be totally grossed out by that.

And then it happened again the night following. And the night after. So I feel like I have fallen into a trap. Like he has trapped me, deliberately.

Dude. Those fingers are so up the nose way too much. And in the mouth. And then back in the nose. And then back in the mouth. Dude.

Any attempt from me to stop the fingering is met with awful and super volume resistance. And with a mild amount of physical violence. (He smacked my hand. It made me mad.)

He is not even a little grossed out. It’s just like¬† a natural progression of boy-hood. And that makes me scared for what is to come.

Hands down pants? Poop on walls? Boogers on faces?

Geez. Us.  Che. Rist.

So gross. Please pray for me and hope that our next child will be a female child. Pray hard. There needs to be a literal injection of femininity in this house, and I don’t mean getting another dog. I need a larger dose of it and¬† human dose at that.

I am heading to bed. To the land of dreams and pretty lacy things, pink unicorns and sugary goodness. And no boogers.

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The Game Plan

After about a month of the big boy bed, a month of crying and a month of feeling very emotional, we are revising the bedtime plan.

Not that we planned this or anything, it was just something that I did last night that worked so well I couldn’t even believe it. So I did it again this evening and it worked even better.

Essentially I have given in to the extremely sad cries that were leaking through his bedroom door and into the hallway over to where I stand every night. I have also given in to the clicking of the door knob as he tries to open his bedroom door and find Mummy. Always Mummy, only Mummy all the time.

There I am, every night, in the corner biting my lip. Listening to those noises and saying to myself (in my head) that this will all pass, it will all get better, V will stop fighting and eventually just go to bed. But unfortunately, things have remained the same. I mean, they certainly haven’t gotten worse, but it is not like they have been improving either.

It’s giving in, but in such a nice way.

“Mummy too?”, he says, patting his little pillow.

“Yes, Mummy too”, I respond, climbing onto his little twin bed and sharing that football and soccer ball covered pillow. He hands me his favorite blanket, which I tuck around him and then I lie down with him.

We listen to lullabys.

I watch his face, those eyes flickering here and there around the room. Sometimes they land on me and he smiles…

Eventually they close and I stay there for a little while longer.

I haven’t watched him fall asleep since he was a little, itty bitty baby. So while I watch him do that, it makes me think about him 2 years ago, so little and so hungry. And now, a monsterously huge little boy who eats like a beast, plays so hard you’d think it was an Olympic sport and sleeps like a brick. When you can convince him to fall asleep, I mean.

So I convince him by saying “Mummy too”, lying down next to him, stroking his back… and at the same time, I am having the time of my freakin’ life!! An actual cuddle with my boo, one he isn’t even fighting!! Bliss!! Utter bliss!

And really, when you really think about it? Why would I ever be in any hurry to leave? What do I have to do that is so darn important that I can’t sit with my child and comfort him while he tries to fall asleep?

Not a damn thing. Best idea I have ever had in years. YEARS!

So for the last two nights, I have not bitten my lip or hovered in any hallways. OR tried to hold back tears OR felt at all guilty at all.

So far, it sounds like this is a total win.

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Trying

Trying to figure out what to blog about tonight, I asked M.

“Duh.” he said, “About motherhood”. Oh. Right.

I didn’t want to hit the obvious gong over and over since everyone and their dog would be writing about something similar. But, who cares. Right? Do you care? I am pretty sure it doesn’t bother you that much…

And you know what? It’s a hard thing to just sum up.

I’ve been a Mum now for almost 2 years and dudes. DUDES. It is amazing. And hard as balls. Tough as freakin’ balls as well. And sometimes just plain ol’ balls.

Especially if you have boy(s).

So ladies? What is this whole day about? Is it really the only day that we can celebrate us being super awesome Mother machines? Thanks Hallmark for putting a huge stamp on this day.

Well, here’s a summary of what it is about for me:

6:00 wake-up

9:00 actual wake-up… Thanks M for taking that little Man downstairs and feeding him. At 6 am. You know what? That was awesome.

9:20 am Tea-time in the courtyard. With Vince.  A Vince covered in  dirt. Who was also still in most of his pajamas.

10:45 Heading to Sassy and Pop-Pop’s to hit up the pool. Sweet. Forgot sunscreen. Awesome. Remembered flowers. Yay!

2:30 pm Vodka and tonic  as per my mother-in-law. Thanks Fran!

6:45 bedtime. By this time V was a sleepless wreck. A crying, clingy, sleepless, super-needy mess. One that needed extra cuddles. Oh Lord… how I love and hate this at the same time.

So, is this just the day in the life? Perhaps. There is more. Did you want to know all about it?

Just a taste perhaps?

Nap in car on the way home from sassy and Pop-Pop’s. Super scream bath.¬† I love Mummy and will not sit and only cuddle with her. I won’t drink milk. I will not do anything. Mummy. Mummy Mummy Mummy Mummmmmmmmy Mummy!!! MUMMY!!!

Egg? Egg! Papaya? Papaya!! Puppies!! Puppies yes!

We read books about Puppies. We brushed our teeth. We snuggled.

And then? Well, V cried when I left the room. And he was so tired from no naps that he was literally alseep on the next breath.

So Motherhood, thanks. With the cries, screams, wet diaper marks that look like you’ve peed your pants that you don’t notice until you go to 7-11 to buy a slurpee, extended cheese courses, red wine, more red wine and then some awesome Buffy action. I understand that this day is essentially an excuse for me to indulge in everything. Red wine. Bad tv. Toddler snuggles.

It’s a total chaos indulgence. Every single day.

Awesome.

xoxo a.m.

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