Monthly Archives: July 2010


Edward had a bit of a rough day yesterday. Not so much with the V-bot, more so with some phone services that we needed that he wasn’t able to access because of customer stupidity.

Yes, that’s right. BrightHouse is a bastard. And their customer service sucks.

And while he was waiting, V got a little bored. And while he was bored, he trashed the place. And once he finished trashing the downstairs of the house, apparently they went upstairs. I am assuming this was because we recently just came into possession of a large amount of trains, which is, clearly, not as effective  as one would think at distracting a wee man.

Guess what did?


I couldn’t guess either.

I just got a stressed phone-call, one that forgot the part where you say “Hi! How was your day!” to your spouse and, instead, launch into how your 2 year old ‘found’ YOUR lip gloss and is now covered in it.

I scares me to think of what was going on to make that happen.

That call included things like “I haven’t left the house yet to pick you up. I have to clean the lip gloss off of V first.” And “I haven’t cleaned anything all day”. Oh, and ” I hate BrightHouse”.

V was mostly clean when I saw him. And lip gloss-free.

As was most of the downstairs.

We came home from our errands and I went upstairs immediately with V to get him ready first.

And this next bit? Possibly TMI. So prepare yourself.

Getting V ready for bed, I hit the potty. And stuck to the seat. And this took a few extra seconds to process.

What? What was this?

Oh, great. My Victorias Secret lip gloss. The one in the tin… purposefully bought as to be more difficult to open. And apparently it wasn’t. It is (was) hot pink and sparkly.

And it was (is) all over my great-grandfather’s nightstand that my Mum brought down this past spring from Canada. And also all over the lamp-shade.

And my toilet seat. And my ass.

And after he went to bed? I found it on my carpet and my lampshade. And then on my tv stands, one of our door frames, a few door knobs and then probably a few spots that I haven’t noticed.

It feels like everything I touch is sticky and I am afraid to sit down anywhere.

Last night I decided to go to bed with a tube of lip gloss instead. I need my gloss. It’s a genetic issue. Must moisturize lips.

And this morning, I had to wrestle my gloss away from V. He twisted the lid off and tried to swallow it. Lovely.

And the whole time he screamed “Mine. MINE!!”

I think I should just have some gloss injected into my finger/arm instead of a tube on my night table. That would definitely cause less issues….

Regardless, love the sticky boy. And the stressed husband.

xoxo a.m.


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Tequila fail

Update: Vince has graduated to telling me that he’s going to pee in the bathtub and forbidding me to peek in the back of his diaper. Super.

Apparently July is the month of lazy blogging. Sorry all, it’s just been one hell of a busy, dirty, sticky month.

Edward is still on Summer holiday, V is home with him and I am at work fulltime.

I feel left out.

Did you know that I have no idea how to do a tequila shot? I really thought I did but apparently, it’s true, I don’t. Actually, while I was preparing to do a shot, I realized that I had no idea what I was doing.

Thankfully I was around other skilled people, one of which literally reached across in the middle of my mini-monologue and swipe a lemon in the crux of my thumb and dusted it lightly with salt.

Yup. Tequila.

This is how a nerd does a tequila shot.

First, chew on lemon. Then, drink tequila. Finally? Lick salt. And finally finally? Drink rest of tequila.

Lord. Who am I? A 17 year old? I honestly can’t remember the last time I did a shot. And clearly neither did my mouth. Since it was the one that chose that lemon first.

Regardless, that Patron went down nicely. And the rest of that afternoon went down just as smoothly. Thanks Roys for your hospitality. And tequila. And tacos.

That blissful evening was followed by one of the exact opposite.

Screaming, puking, crying and endless cries of “Mummy too. MUMMY TOO! TOOOOOO!!”

I went to bed at about 8:30, post dinner (me) and post-puke (him). There was nothing that we could do that could make it right. Nothing at all. And certainly not his own bed, all by himself that is. As soon as I laid him down in our bed, he went to sleep. And as soon as I tried to move him somewhere else, he woke up and sobbed until I put him back.

Brutal. I mean I say that, but it really was. It wasn’t just that one time, it was multiple times. So much sobbing and crying and just general snotty noses and ickiness.

We were exhausted, still are actually.

And so? On that note, we are going to bed.

xoxoxo a.m.

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Broccoli (and Stieg Larsson)

Tonight I am taking a break from Stieg Larsson. Well, I am trying to take a break from him. Originally I had purchased ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” as an interesting book to read in Vince’s bedroom while I was waiting for him to fall asleep.

You know, since we have been having non-stop sleep issues over here. The idea was for ‘Edward’ and I to each have a book in his room, one we only read there and nowhere else. A little something to entice us to stay throughout the whole ‘I’m sleeping but not really, oh look, here’s a toy. No, wait, I am really sleeping’ thing that we toy with every night.

I think it stayed in there for a few days before I had a chance to crack it open. V had a rough time getting to sleep, so I was up there for a while. And then after he felt asleep? Well, Edward had to come and get me later that evening.

“He’s been asleep for a while, hasn’t he!!” he jokingly confronted me.

“Um, I’m not sure”, I replied guiltily. And not convincingly either.

And that was it. I’ve been tearing through the series, just sucking it back. Currently the 3rd book is lounging next to me on the couch. Edward is sitting in a separate chair. See the kind of pull this book has?

Alright, no worries, I’ll stop talking about Stieg.

And talk about broccoli instead.

Who knew that if a person happens to have broccoli on their plate at a restaurant, that this immediately becomes a desired item?

Also, it is delicious. Or at least V thought it was. SHOCKER.

I want to say I have always loved it, but I have a vivid memory of stuffing into the cracks under the family dining table. Mum never noticed and I think that was probably because we had a dog that would eat.

I would also like to say that I have always loved veggies, even as a small child, but I am pretty sure my memories and my mothers might conflict a little.

But damn. The veg is a hard thing. Actually, right now, all food appears to be. Not hard exactly, more of a total bitch. Or bastard. Or shithead.

As in, he screams at it and throws it on the floor. And then I cook a second dinner and he eats most of it. And sometimes by ‘cook’, I also mean ‘open a container of yogurt’.

Don’t judge, it’s a survival thing. . And I am happy that he is eating something. This eating thing and this sleeping thing is just killing us.

We make V the nicest of dinners. Tasty little sandwiches, yummy little biteables, raspberry milk (which is kid smoothies plus milk… this is how we get him to drink milk), corn quesadillas, oh we make him this little gourmet things all the time. Are we being too gourmet? I don’t want to get stuck in a chicken nugget mac and cheese rut.

Both of us refuse to overly cater to him, food-wise. If we did he would be eating waffles, syrup, chocolate milk and Nemo fruit snacks.

But we also don’t want to push food on him if he doesn’t want to eat. Let me assure you , this child of mine is not starving. His hugeness will attest to that. But, you know, he’s two.

And ‘two’ means “I hate everything” and also “when I get angry I bite” and then also “more Mickey Mouse! MORE! MOREEEEEE!”.

So just another post in the ongoing struggle of feeding and raising a two year old.

Any suggestions food-wise as to how to get a 2 year old to eat some veg? Apart for this out of left field broccoli interest…

xoxo a.m.


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Reading too much

Well am I writing tonight or not?

Not sure.

All i have to say is Stieg Larsson. I have been reading way too much lately. Wait.


Reading too much?

On second thought… Been reading not enough. Grammer much?

Um. No.

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So this evening, I went and read something on the internet that I haven’t read in a while. I used to read it every day, as it was hanging on my apartment wall when I lived in Canada, in my 20’s.

Hadn’t read it in a while. So thought I’d look it up this evening and it was just like coming home. Reading and smiling along with every verse. For even after so many years, each line still rings true.

I am a child of the Universe.

I do have a right to be here.

And whether or not it’s clear to me, the Universe is unfolding as it should.

So every step, path and decision that I take is the right one, leading me in the direction that has already be determined for me. And my husband. And my child.

It is a funny thing to contemplate. And a beautiful thing to reread. I strongly encourage you to read it if you haven’t. It really does speak the truth.

Please enjoy reading it HERE.

And as for us down here in Florida?

Well, V has a newly rearranged room. With a ‘library’. AKA a bookshelf in his closet that he is so excited about I don’t know if I can even out it into words.

I bought it at Target and put it together this afternoon with V looking on. With every shelf I put in place V clapped his hands and said “Good job Mummy!!! Yay!! Mummy nice!”

And then every time he got the chance, he would run his little chubby hands over the shelves and say to himself “Nice…. nice. Pretty.”

How interesting is it to see these likes and dislikes develop.

So the library is now in place and instantly the room has changed from a baby room to a big boy room. He even lies down on the floor so I can change his pants. And does it so natural, like “Hey Mum! We should have been doing this from the start!”

So thank you life, for all these changes. While kind of abrupt and scary at times, I know the path is right.

The corners true and the change necessary.

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Isn’t it interesting how things suddenly seem to change in a period of, say, 24 hours? And of course I am talking about children. As that is all I talk about because, well, that’s pretty much all there is going on.

There was forewarning, but we didn’t recognize the signs…

Thursday night, V called Daddy by his first name.

“Dad. Daddy. Daaaddddddyyy. DAD! Edward!”

*He wishes his real name to not be used, so I am using his middle. And that choice has absolutely nothing to do with having just watched Eclipse this afternoon.

Well, whatever we are calling him, it certainly got our attention. And then I laughed my face off. Last night at our family chili dinner, V did it again much to the delight of his Grandparents and Auntie.

And this morning, just after I left to hit up the movies with my girlfriend, M (or Edward) called and told me that V was running around the house looking for me, shouting “Mummy! Mum!!! MUMMY! Jaime!!!!!”.

Still, I find it quite funny. And probably will until he  starts using it as his primary name for me. My game plan is to (try to) not react to it at all. Wish me luck with that.

And moving on?

Moving on to V learning how to climb up his changing table.

‘Edward’ told me all about it Friday morning when he woke up on V’s floor (you know, since we are having night-time issues). He was still 3/4 asleep and V cleverly chose that moment to climb up his changing table. It looks like a 2 level book shelf and I guess that is helpful. Make it kind of like ‘steps’.

I laughed it off a bit when ‘Edward’ told me about the incident. Until this evening when he did it about twelve times. Right in the middle of bedtime.

Now this may sound like there is no control in our house. Really there is. This just happened to be a bad 2 minutes.

So while I moved the changed table out into the hall, rearranged the whole room and contemplated Ikea tomorrow morning, Vince read some books. Edward came upstairs and finished off the evening routine.

I lugged the table downstairs to the garage. And as I dragged it out through the courtyard I really had a good look at it. A proper good look. I think the last time I really noticed it as a piece of furniture was when I bought it. And I was hugely pregnant then. And then after? I ignored it. It is, after all, a receptacle for poo, diapers, powder and bums.

But as I was pushing it in to place in the garage, I looked at it properly.

Was the high rail supposed to be facing outward into the room? Or was the low rail. Because there is one of each. And we have always had the lower rail facing the room, with the high rail against the wall. But as I looked at it again and squinted and thought…

Shoot. Have I been changing my son incorrectly for 2 years? Has he been in non-stop danger of falling off the table? And then I laughed.

Not like it matters now, since we will be changing him on the floor, while we push the ‘big boy pants’ and the ‘stinky icky poo’ and then push the potty like an m-f’er.

There is now no place at all to keep V’s many many books. They are piled up all over his bedroom floor. Hence Ikea tomorrow.

But on an up note, his room seems bigger. And the cosy chair we have in his room is now positioned nearer a window which equals better light for Jaime and Edward to read by as V falls asleep.

Doesn’t that kind of sound like I am married to a vampire?

xoxo a.m.


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Update: Currently the only potty training going on over here is the fact that V and his ‘big boy pants’ are bff’s. Hallelujah! Minor win for Mummy!

As I listen to V cry off and on this evening, I realize we are in a huge pickle.

And well, since I am a huge sucker and he is now snoozing next to me on the sofa downstairs, I would say we have some issues. And they are all sleep related. And I have no idea what to do about it.

We have had so many amazing plans. They have all failed. And in fact? Things have gotten worse.

And worse at a steady rate. And I am sharing my parenting fail with you why? Because I love sharing.

Somehow the ‘I sleep in my own bed by myself’ apparently got old and tired for someone. He has retaliated by waking up in the middle, crying and working himself up into such a state that he has actually thrown up a little. And we have responded by giving in and letting him sleep with us.

And literally the minute we offer this as an option, all fussing stops. Instantly. And during the middle of the night, when one is half asleep, this does seem like a good idea.

And I guess this has developed into an unfortunate pattern and it took us a while to really realize that it was a pattern. And trying to correct the issue is a bitch.

We’ve been trying for about a week now and not much has changed. The only positive step is that I am now ‘allowed’ to sit in the chair in his room, instead of lying next to him in his bed.

And this is a huge step. And I bring my book and read until he is asleep. But this too is slowly failing as V stays awake later and later, and the light in his room grows dimmer and dimmer and I grow sleepier and sleepier. And I struggle to read in the dim light, gradually give up and then sit half asleep in the chair in the corner of the room. And then as I grow sleepier, I crawl into bed with him to the sounds of “Mummy too, Mummy too…”.


2 weeks ago, we had a particularly bad weekend. It literally was a no-sleep night every single night. By the end of the 4th of July long weekend, I was happy to go back to work as that would bring some sort of routine back to V’s life. Plus I got to sleep until 6 am and that was a total luxurious snooze compared to the 3 days previous.

Last weekend, we were at a Disney Resort. V and I slept together for 2 nights and it was the best sleep I have ever had in my whole life. V and I woke up those 2 mornings all snuggled up, our hair all entangled. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept that well. It made me sad when we checked out and headed home. I knew that my Sunday night sleep was not going to be as great as that Saturday night.

This last week, we have tried to keep him in his bed. So when he woke up every night this week screaming for us to the point of almost puking? M went and got him and slept on his bedroom floor. This worked really well for several night except M now has a sore back, V is still crying every night and then there was that one night when we didn’t hear him we were so tired. I woke up at 6 am with a Little man next to me.

It was the best night of sleep I have had all week.

So we are now thinking about things like:

A) Is it so bad that he sleeps with us from time to time?

B) If we keep letting it happen, will we be totally screwed?

C) Will this mean we will never sleep alone until V is 10?

D) Can we somehow make it work for only the weekends?

I feel like I am slowly reaching the realm of ‘I don’t care’. And the other realm of ‘Why am I fighting this?’.

Is it ok to give in? Will you judge me if V sleeps with us as he so clearly wants to? Is he having night-terrors? Is he scared of the dark? If I put another night-light in his room, will he climb up his dresser and play with it? Like he did this morning when M found him standing on his changing table?

Will I find him crushed by furniture in the morning? Do I even dare take that route?

There are a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘will I’ and ‘Is he’ thoughts circling my head.

The path we are contemplating is tricky. The road uneven. The distance? Unknown.

M and I are about to take a journey. Maybe.

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So 9 years ago I turned 25.

And 9 years ago I was somewhere else entirely. Literally and figuratively. I was in Victoria, Canada, working 2 part-time jobs and taking 3 4th year level classes at the local university finishing off my degree in English and Art History.

I worked about 30 hours a week at a grocery store as a butcher’s assistant. And every Saturday I worked in a second-hand book-store. I lived with my cousin in a 3rd floor building overlooking downtown Victoria. All hardwood floors, with a gas fireplace. I had a cat. I had no car. I took the bus or rode my bike everywhere. I ran a lot.

I celebrated my birthday in a bar, with a tiara and some rather saucy pictures that one of my friends used on his ‘dirty drinks’ website. A website that has since disappeared. As have those pictures. Ha!

The year I turned 26, I did so in Japan. It probably involved karaoke. So did the year I turned 27 and 28. 29? That was the year M and I were preparing to leave Japan. My summer birthdays in Japan were always sweaty affairs. Japan is one humid and hot place to live. The summer was always full of the smell of wet. And barbeque. And charcoal. And the sounds of karaoke drifting faintly through downtown.

The year I turned 30, I celebrated in Orlando. I’d only been living here for about 6 months. M and I had the smallest apartment you have ever seen in your life. Although comparing it to the one we had in Japan, it was incredibly spacious.

Now this was a birthday that was celebrated with proper pomp and circumstance. M bought me 30 gifts. And we hit up downtown Orlando with sushi and tasty drinks. I have some very vague memories of that night.

2 years ago I celebrated with my newly born son. V was just a month old and to be honest I don’t even remember what we did. I think we might have eaten food. And then I might have slept. Those were the early days, the days I have no memory of. I blocked them out. That’s how you make it possible to have another child.

Last year, M took me out for a gourmet meal. We are slowly working our way through the Disney Resorts, dining-wise.

And tonight?

M was working this evening and so V and I went out for dinner. I managed to eat one piece of pizza at our favorite Italian place before V got bored with the evening. I only had to chase him around the restaurant 3 times. Lovely.

And bedtime was another disaster that I will blog about another day. And ongoing disaster, actually. And the evening ended with the 2 of us on the couch, watching Big Brother, snuggling with Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse. V cuddling up closer and closer.

V falling asleep. Me carrying him up to bed at 9:30 and then heading back downstairs to zone out with Mickey and Winnie for a little while longer before I hit the second floor as well.

9 years was a big journey.

xoxo a.m.

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Say cheers


Did you know that if you take a 2 day mini-break, it feels just like a holiday?

As my birthday treat this year, M booked us into a Disney resort for the weekend. How blissful! Port Orleans Riverside was where we spent the weekend and it has all the ear-markings of a family tradition.

Friday night, we checked in and headed straight to Epcot for adventures with Nemo at ‘The Sea’, dinner in ‘Germany’ at the beer-hall and fireworks. And then a really late night family swim.

Saturday we hit up MGM, M and I tag-teamed a few rides (Tower of Terror and Rockin’ Roller Coaster). We tried Playhouse Disney.

V’s response? “No dis. NO DIS!” (‘No this’ in case you needed a translator).

In spite of this little set back, we proceeded swiftly to a delicious nap. So delicious, in fact, that when we all woke up it was time to head off to dinner. This might have been the best moment of this whole weekend.

I woke up with Little Man curled up in my arms, blissful sleeping face, melts my heart.

We still had time for a quick dip and a quick sangria and then off we went to ‘The Beach Club’ for an Tabiho-dai (My Japanese friends, how badly did I spell this?!). It was an All You Can Eat Seafood buffet and we had some serious crab, clam and mussel action. V sat so politely throughout the whole thing. Which was such a blessing

Post delicious seafood feast, we decided to hit up the Magic Kingdom. And we somehow made it there just in time for the Electric Light Parade.

V hated the Light parade, by the way. It was a shock to me too, especially since I was rather excited about it. Anyways, post-parade, we did a sneak cruise through the gift shop as a detour and ended up past the crowds and into Adventureland. Things were kind of closing down, slowing down and so we just walked up to the Magic Carpet Ride.

Oh my, we thought this would be the funnest. I don’t think I have ever been on this ride in my whole life.

And in case that wasn’t clear to us, it was illustrated by a man that screamed at us from the lineup that we were entering the wrong carpet.

M and I made a ‘what the?!’ face and looked at each other. 10 pm on a Saturday night and, well, you want to be fussy about a ride with no line and no  limit to seating? Apparently he did. Right up in our face. To the point where on e of the ride operators came over to see what the problem was.

My answer?

“Apparently it’s very important for them to sit here,” I said, “So why don’t you all go right ahead?” I am certainly not going to take shit from a cranky tourist in the middle of my nice mini-vacation. I am quite capable of having a nice holiday with my family and not being a total bastard to random strangers. We were, after all, in the ‘happiest place on earth’.

Which also turns  people into total assholes. Anyways, he had a big ol’ tough-guy pout and then said “Well FINE. It doesn’t matter to us where WE sit.’

Jesus H.

Didn’t matter to us either, but you didn’t really give us a chance to say anything. And you pissed me off by yelling at me the second the ride gate opened.

So screw you!

Ahhhh, feels good to get that off my chest. M kept side-eying me all night, you know I carry these things around with me. I was so tempted to give him the sharp side of my tongue. M can tell you, it can be pretty freakin’ sharp. I usually keep it locked up, but you get mouthy around my child? Watch it Mister. Just watch it.

Anyways… V had the most fun ever on that ride. Him and Daddy, squished in the back, both grinning like fools. V going “Wheeeeeee!” every time the carpet went up or down.

And pleasantly exhausted and full, we headed back to our room where V happily said “Mummy snuggles” and felt asleep on the bed.

So. Bavarian goodness. Seafood extravaganza. Midnight-ish pool dipping. Mickey ears (say cheers!). Tasty drinks and treats. The most delicious slumber ever. Two nights of it, actually.

Thanks honey, loveliest birthday prezzie ever

xoxo a.m.


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Fourth and dreaming

Long weekend, I had delicious expectations for you. Everyone always does. I dreamt of dreaming. I dreamt of sleeping and the dreams that come with.

Alas, you disappoint me.

What is up with the 4:15 wake-up call from the Wee Man on Saturday morning? And then this morning’s 3:15 am cry-a-thon and subsequent removal to the ‘Big Bed’ for cuddles. Sleeping with a 2-year-old is a mess. Thrashing, light sleeping and dragon breath. Not from me, from the Wee Man.

Last night was a rough bedtime for him. He just couldn’t let me go. We have been having a hard time with bedtimes lately, me especially. M, apparently is a night-time God, who can make children fall asleep with the snap of his fingers.

This is intensely annoying to me as, after all, I was the one who was able to make V sleep with just the simple stroke of my hand on his back. My powers must be waning.


Anyways, Dragon breath apparently derives from when a child cries and coughs so much because they are so upset you are not lying next to them in their teeny tiny wee bed, spending the night with you that they work themselves up to a state where, perhaps, they cough and cry and maybe throw-up a little?

This is a total hypothesis.

His breath smelled like vomit, but there was no puke evidence. Anywhere. So this is where my mind went.

Anyways, it is disgusting, as I am sure that you can imagine. I not only didn’t sleep well after V and I were cuddling,  but after several hours of sleeping face to face and having him blow that directly into my mouth I gave up and got out of bed.

So tonight, the Fourth, is my last chance for a good nights sleep. I am just a huge selfish bitch, I know.

But it is. And right now all of my neighbours are celebrating the 4th by having a huge fireworks display that actually is almost directly below V’s bedroom. I went out to the porch and watched some of it and had a feeling that V would have been rather scared of it. He didn’t enjoy the sparkler that we waved around earlier. His eyes got really big and he made no move towards them at all.

How he hasn’t woken up by now, I have no idea.

I have high hopes for tonight. High hopes for a restful sleep, a delicious 6:30 or 7 am wake-up (how lame am I!) and another delicious 2 miler before it gets super hot.

Monday has all the ear-markings of awesomeness. *If* we can first get through this night.

See? Just like most of my posts are. Starts off on a poo note (or a vomit one in this case) and ends on a lovely one.

Gosh I’m clever.

xoxo a.m.


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