Drama

My mini-holiday is over and so is  my vow of silence. Not that I really had one, but just that there were so many other things going on over here in Family-land that it just wasn’t possible.

I spent some wonderful quality time with Edward and Vince. I finished painting my bathroom. I started and completed redecorating V’s bedroom. The Christmas tree is up and decorated. Lights are hung all over the exterior of our place.

And post-turkey feast, I am feeling rather festive.

Feeling brave, and hoping that I would avoid any remnants of Black Friday, V and I headed off this morning to do some shopping. And maybe see Santa. That was the bribe anyways. The bribe to get V out of the house and also out of his monster feet-shaped slippers which he insisted on wearing out of the house.

Now, hands down, Millenia Mall has the best Santa ever. Always has. And the most beautiful Santa set-up. Let’s just say that I am not the only person that thinks that as there was a 2 hour wait.

Literally the moment I joined the line, not only did people fall in behind, but V instantaneously started fussing. We left. To be attempted another time, perhaps earlier in the day and not on a Sunday.

Shopping with a 2 year old is laughable. Really. Just laughable. As in what was I thinking! Hahahahahahahahahaha… in retrospect, this is the only response to someone thinking things like that.

I bought nothing.

Good start on my holiday shopping, eh?

Vince has developed some interesting ways of letting me know that he is ‘over’ whatever it is that I am doing. He turns into a noodle, shrieks, collapses dramatically on the floor and is totally unresponsive to anything from me. Sometimes he shrieks “Don’t do that!” at me while wailing.

This is completely resistant to any bribes, cajoling or threats.

It. Is. Awful.

So I am dealing with it by not responding. That is correct. I am nonchalantly carrying a wailing noodle around stores over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A wailing, twisting, flailing, kicking noodle.

He is currently 2 weeks away from 2 1/2. So 6 1/2 months away from 3 years old. Please pray that all 4 of us (the dog included) survive. I have heard rumors that 3 is significantly less worse than 2 ad I can only hope this is true.

xoxoxo a.m. (who is developing some big biceps from hauling around 35 lbs of thrashing toddler)

Dumbass

I know understand how my child feels post-immunizations. Geez-uz.

After some very good logical reasoning from my PCP, I got the dTap shot this past week. Arguments included (but were not limited to) the age of my child, the number of immunizations he’s had, the type of job I have and current rising statistics of said diseases. Really, she got me with her arguments pertaining to my son. I am a bit of a push-over when it comes to his heath.

And also, I guess, not too concerned about mine.

I had a sore arm the next day. Otherwise, I felt fine.

And Friday I woke up feeling, well, odd. I thought it was the pizza I had eaten the night before. It was that kind of odd feeling. Plus all over body aches.

And as the day progressed, it became fever and just kind of feeling ‘off’. And as the afternoon went on, the fever got higher. And I felt  more ‘off’ . And so I went home early and went straight to bed at 4:30. And stayed in bed until about 7:30 when the boys came home. Edward had nicely taken V out to distract him for a couple of hours.

V and I fell asleep in bed together watching Monsters Inc. at 8 pm. Edward put V in his own bed at 8:10. Edward came to bed at 10:30. All I did all night was sweat sickness, take Motrin/Tylenol and sort of sleep.

Promptly woken up at 5:30  by the V-man crying and Edward snoring. V and I went downstairs and watched Yo Gabba Gabba. V sang. I huddled and shivered on the couch. V danced. I made extra-pathetic faces at myself (V wasn’t paying any attention to me).

It was a crappy day and I went to bed at 7:30. And slept beautifully all night long.

And this morning? I woke up feeling great! Well, almost great. But great enough to drag Edward out of bed, feed and dress both the men, drop V off with Sassy and Pop-Pop’s and drag the Big Man off to the movies for some Harry Potter action. And a lunch date.

I am better.

But holy shitballs did that shot do a number on me. I haven’t seen a fever that high since V had the flu last year. Scares the poop out of me.

And for sure it made me think of all of the times V has had shots. How I’ve read all of the handouts regarding side-effects and carefully monitored V for anything, any slight changes of temperature, any anything.

But in terms of myself, I ignored it all. You’d think I would have been familiar with all of the signs, right? Dumbass myself.

xoxo a.m. (or dumbass, if you prefer)

Faking it

V wasn't paying attention

And just like that, we are back to food and bedtime issues. It appears to be a never-ending, cyclical thing.

What a huge turd.

Anyways, I’m not going to go through the whole huge complaint again. You’ve all heard it a million times. Won’t eat anything I make blah blah blah… a billion dinners blah blah, hates everything blah blah, won’t go to bed blah blah, lots of crying blah, hates school blah blah blah..

And of course the bipolar switch of ‘loves school, loves everything I make, gobbles down dinner and sleeps just like a little angel’.

It’s exhausting to keep up with.

Last night, during the Battle of the Bed, I though I would try a new tactic. It was called ‘faking it’.

This entails lying still on the narrow twin bed that V sleeps on, pretending to be ‘sooooooooo tired’ that I fall asleep, hopefully encouraging him to feel sleepy too and fall asleep next to me.

And I was so tired that I almost fell asleep too. So I am lying there, faking it, trying not to succumb to the pillow and the blanket. Tough. Very tough.

Things started to get calmer in the room. I stayed awake. Just.

And then a little hand started patting my face. Patting my cheeks and nose. Then my mouth. Then 2 little fingers poked their way into my mouth. I did not move. Mustn’t encourage child. Fake it good.

So I lay there with fingers in my mouth, little nails running over my front teeth. I did a fake ‘yawn and stretch’ type move and dislodged the fingers. 30 seconds later, the fingers were back in my mouth and the second hand started patting my nose and I felt fingers near my nostrils.

And that’s when I ended my attempt at faking it. Fingers up the nose? No thank you!

Faking it does not appear to work. At least not over here. All I get was 2 fingers in my mouth and one almost up my nose. And I got giggled on. (As in he giggled right in my face, all heavy hot breath and all. Few drops of saliva mixed in).

So Edward is dealing with the bedtime battles now. I am on poop-patrol. I have yet to decide if this is a far trade-off. Hmm.

xoxo a.m.

 

 

Monday night poop

The last 2 weeks or so seem to be the beginning of a vocabulary explosion in the Little Man. And sentence structure. And chattering. Non-stop.

Vince’s latest things to say?

“Mummy, that’s funny!”

“Chewie, don’t bite Mummy’s pants. That’s bad.”

“Chewie is too noisy. Be quiet!”

And this evening?

“Mummy? Vincent poo-poo bath-tub! Ewww! Stinky poo!”

I thought it was all talk. But, as it turns out, it was action too. “Daddy!!”, I hollered, “I need you!!”

“What?!” Edward shouted in reply.

“Poop in the tub!! I need help!”

And so while Edward got V cleaned up, pajamaed and read him a few stories, I fished poo out of the tub with a paper towel. This is not a fun game. The motion of the paper towel under water causes ripples that make the poo drift away from your paper-wrapped hand.

And if, say, you had a tub filled with bubbles, it turns into ‘hide and seek with poo’. Not ‘Hide and Seek with Pooh’ as that would actually be fun. Just me, on my knees beside the tub carefully scooping turds out and depositing them into the toilet.

Funnily enough, V was not in the slightest bit upset that this happened. Like the last few times it did. He was just very matter of fact. And then stood there, very patiently, while I fished him out of the tub and rinsed him off. And then promptly told Daddy all about it when he came upstairs.

There might have been a hint of pride in his retelling of the story.

Lord. Help. Us.

What a perfect ending to a lovely day…

xoxo a.m.

Spit happens (with great regularity)

Potential future sport for V

 

One week post-time change and my, how things are different. I mean, it only took a week!  What on earth was I complaining about, eh?

About half of the week was just total shit. SHIT. And endless fighting. And crying. And hitting. Basically exactly what I said in my previous post.

And then suddenly, things magically got better. How bizarre.

It was like someone flipped a switch in his little body. He went from “No like it Mummy! Noooooooo!!!” to “Oh Mummy, Vincent like dis!”

He is eating everything with total enjoyment. He is falling asleep promptly and with minimal fuss. He is asking for seconds of dinner. Every morning he wakes up there is also no crying. Just happiness. And he throws himself at me crying “Good morning Mummy!!!!”.

Edward and I pretty much stared at each other in shock every morning. Every meal. Every bed-time. I mean, it really was shocking in comparison to the beginning of the week.

“Mummy? More banana please” (And then he ate a whole one)

“Mummy? More veggies”. (And then I fainted with joy)

“Mummy? Please? More apple.” (And then I died and went to heaven)

So that crappy hurdle is over and we move on to the fun stuff. Spitting. I believe this originated during morning and evening tooth-brushing sessions. And then developed with ‘Eagles pffft! Cowboys pffft! Go Giants!’ sessions with Daddy. And then further explored by spitting on oneself and our living room floor.

And the final straw? Standing with Daddy in the back alley over the drainage grate, watching Daddy spit.

“I was just trying to develop his depth perception”, Edward complained when I confronted him about his poor poor POOR decision. I burst out laughing. That seriously was the worst excuse I have ever heard.

Husbands. Especially those of a Scorpio nature. From an Italian background. Who must argue with their wives at any given opportunity. And who spit. For depth perception reasons.

Puh-leeze.

xoxo a.m.

Update: The only thing about the potty that is even happening is flushing. We like flushing thing(s). So far, just toilet paper. And hopefully, apart from poop, this is where it will stop. (ie: please god, no action figures/food/items/etc).

So this week was one of those graduating scales. Backwards. Things went from worse to better. Better~ish. Which is not a word.

Things were very very bad post-time change. BAD. No eating. Lots of fighting. Spanked bottoms (which I am not a fan of, for the record).

ACK.

And then? Wednesday came and things got just a little better. Food was eaten. This, in of itself, was enough for me to high-five myself.  Then V went to bed with a huge fat tummy and woke up in  a good mood.

And then Thursday? He ate: A whole banana, a whole mini-quesadilla, a whole cheese stick, a huge plate of veggies. And then some apple slices.

Holy crap.

Friday? We went to a Magic game and Edward’s parents fed him.

And tonight? He ate 5 mini-cheese pizza bagels. While watching Yo Gabba Gabba and abstractly shouting “Yo!! Gab!! A!! Gab! A!”

How bizarre. It really was. It was like a huge about face personality-wise. And still when I think about it, I am confused.

It was a mid-week bi-polar abrupto. Which makes me wonder things like ‘Do parents with different star signs create children who absorb those ‘being’ and that combo plus their unique star sign creates them?’

Or is that really just to darn embarrassing to even be reality?

Because I think that sometimes, if that is the truth, then Vince is a perfect combo of the two of us. And by perfect? I actually mean perfect. Which means he is perfect. Which he is. Make sense?

 

Change

You know how mostly change is a good thing?

Like spare change is a great thing when you save it up for a year (like we did last year) and then bought a really nice flat screen TV.

Or how sometimes a diaper change is an amazing thing, because probably that diaper really needed to be changed and now your house doesn’t smell like an outhouse any more.

Or a change after a good run.

Or a change into pj’s after work (which I do immediately)

However.

The time change? Please kill me now…

Since the the time change (and yes, I know it was yesterday) Vince and I are having serious dinner battles. As in everything I make him he says “Don’t like it, don’t want it ppfffft!!”  And if I push the issue, there are serious tantrums, time outs, things being thrown which results in spanked bottoms (we do not throw things in our house).

So last night, after dinner disaster, I made dinner #2 and he ate most of that. Tonight? Not a single thing. Cars movie chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese (with an enticing bowl of ketchup to dip it in).

“No!! Don’t like it!! Don’t want it!! Mummy eating it! Chewie take a bite!”

Ok, fine. I ate it. Edward ate it. Chewie did not eat it. Vince also did not eat any of it. And in fact just sucked ketchup off of the bread. Dinner was removed. I brought out crackers with cream cheese (surefire win).

That surefire win? Freaking disaster.

That disaster was followed by apple slice disaster. And that disaster was followed by bedtime. All of this was preceded by his teacher telling me that he had lots of tantrums and was quick to anger today.

Freakin’ time change. Leave your damn emotional baggage at home and please just bring your sweet extra hour of sleep.

Vince went to bed pronto. Edward and I watched The Walking Dead. Am now in bed and looking forward to my 5 am run.

xoxo a.m.

ps: I hope the ‘change’ is being good to you…

Cowboy (cranky)

So Halloween was a success. Mostly. Apart for my huge cowboy vest fail. But it was an amusing fail, so who cares.

In retrospect, it would have made way more sense to sew the patches on instead of sticking them on with sticky felt. Then they wouldn’t have fallen off, stuck to my wood floors, stuck to my shirt, stuck to everyone and, well, you get the point. Mental note for next year: make costume WAY ahead of time (just like this years plan).

Vince sure made a cute cowboy. All boys should dress-up as cowboys. Maybe all men too. Mummy like.

Anyways, one week later, I ran my second 5 k this year. This went much better than the first one I ran in August. Or so I thought. It was very exhilarating. My time was better, as was my pace. It was just all around better. We followed up that event by having dinner with the family for Edward’s upcoming 35th birthday at our favorite Cuban restaurant (Padrinos).

And we followed that by having Daylight Saving screw us royally in the ass and then beat the shit out of us.

F you time change! And F your friend Sunrise too.

Vince woke up at 4 am. And me, in my sleep deprived deludity, opted to bring him into our bed hoping that he would go back to sleep.

I know you are asking “And when has that ever worked Jaime?” and I have no response for you. Because it hasn’t ever. And so V kicked me for 2 hours. Edward played with his itouch (and I nearly throttled him… ). I said “Hi Vincent” in response to his adoring “Hi Mummy” about a million times. And finally after not sleeping for 2 more hours, Vince and I got up and went downstairs and had breakfast.

I do not do well on little sleep.

After 5 pm, I turn into a crank monster.

Poor V. He turns into one too. And the two of us together are just not a good combination.

Food was thrown, so were chairs. And bottoms were spanked. There was much heightened emotion on the lower level of our residence. And then someone went to bed.

Which is what I am doing. I am looking forward to Monday so much, it’s kind of shocking.

xoxo sweet dreams and night nights

a.m. (crank)