Hurray for urine

Let me just say that my day was a huge poop. A giant turd. This does not, in any way, mean it was enjoyable or felt relieving.

Ugh. It was an awful day.

But then I picked up V. And man was he happy to see me.

“Dis MY Mummy,” he announced to his teachers that I see every day. I said ‘hi’, we chatted.

What followed with them was a huge conversation regarding potty-training and how it’s going to be super enforced as of February. Which is tomorrow, in case you were wondering. I packed a special pack of Thomas the Tank Engine underwear this evening and am thinking this might be the magic key.

In case you wanted to know more about my life, I will be doing a lot of laundry these next few months and will become immune to the smell of urine.

So buoyed by that chat with the teachers, we headed upstairs for a bath and some potty time. And we were on the potty for quite a while. We read two books about going potty. V told me repeatedly “Mummy!! I did it!!!” He did nothing. Nothing went in there, despite him telling me repeatedly that he ‘did it’. Whatever it was. Neither of those things were in there.

Imagine. V, naked, sitting on the potty. The tub full of bubbles next to us, just waiting.

Little legs kicking back and forth, he pointed to that part that I am expecting some pee action from and states rather solemnly “Mummy, dis my bum-bum”.

I burst out laughing. “No honey, that’s not your bum-bum. That’s your pee-pee. Hmm, no that’s your PENIS”.

“No Mummy, dats not my weenus, that’s my deek”.

And then? I did a huge double-take. Did he just say ‘dick’ like a two year old does? Is that what I heard? That’s honestly what I thought I heard.

He looked like he said something a bit naughty too. He giggled when saying it, and shot me a sly look. A sly look from V is like normal around here, but since it came with a potentially bad word… double suspicious.

I corrected him and told him it was his penis again. Which felt like just the weirdest word ever to say to a 2 1/2 year old. Any of those words are just weird. All of them are. I don’t ever want to have to say any of them to my child ever. Ack!!

Maybe I’ll tough up as I get older? Please say I will. PLEASE. Please…

xoxo a.m.

Mini-vacay

Things I did today that took far too long:

Grocery shopping.

Buying underwear.

Putting V to bed.

Basically, that’s it.

The grocery shopping was, mainly, because I was alone. Somehow I not only talked my husband in to cleaning out the fridge but also into watching V while I went and picked up some things at the store.

I honestly cannot remember the last time I went shopping for food alone. Or the last time the fridge was cleaned. It might have been cleaned when we moved in. And that might, coincidentally, been the last time I went shopping alone.

I’ve gotten used to fighting with V every time we go shopping. We fight about sitting in the shopping cart, where we sit in the cart, about walking next to the cart (I usually lose the sitting battles), running away from Mummy, touching too many things, yelling at Mummy, touching WAY too many things, using the debit machine at checkout, being carried like a sack of potatoes out of the store wailing…. I honestly could go on and on.

Go by myself? It’s like I have no idea what to do, and I lose sight of the quickest path through the store and instead wander aimlessly and catch myself standing still in the air-freshner aisle, pondering Hawaiian  Delight versus Springtime Fresh. For 5 minutes. (I bought Springtime Fresh).

Prior to my epic shop, I went to Kohl’s to pick up some new face clothes for our soon to be used ‘guest suite’. I honestly really don’t want to tell you how long it took me to buy underwear, but whatever. It took forever.

Where did the comfy underwear section go? When did it all become bum slings?

There was a clear division. Fancy and cotton. I want neither. I want the blank blank blank (because you don’t really need to know). But that was apparently like finding a needle in an underwear haystack. And again, I was child-free.

Yes, my husband is awesome. I know.

But I was there for what felt like hours. Contemplating things, feeling material. It was like I was buying my freakin’ wedding dress. While I was in a coma.

And V. Oh that Vincent of mine.

All day he played and played and played. With Batman. It was an epic Batman day. Then we went to the park. And then we watched some of Cars when he fell asleep. And that’s when it was all over.

Shitballs.

That nap f’d me in the a.

I lovingly made him dinner and he hated every piece of it. Crying and whining to the point of sobbing exhaustion. He had to be carried upstairs with threats of no dinner, still wailing away. Changed into pj’s wailing. Carried back downstairs wailing, with sobbing demands for oatmeal interspersed.

I made oatmeal. He ate 5 bites. I made pigs in a blanket. He refused to eat for 20 minutes and then told me “Ok Mummy, I ‘try’ it”. Gee thanks. You’ve only had them a million times.

I picked him up for a hug. Wail. I put him back down. I asked him if he wanted some yogurt. Wail plus whine plus ‘yes Mummy’. Daddy threw it all out. Mummy cried.

I don’t want to relive it, so no more of that. But let me just say that bedtime was WAY worse.

Stupid late afternoon nap that f’d everything up the bum.

Stupid husband for throwing out the yogurt that was perfectly good. And also wonderful husband for letting me shop alone. And go running. Ha ha. Ha. HA.

So basically Edward watched V all day, I bought underwear and went running. Hm. Hmmm. I think I came on top here.

Not too shabby. Forget my complaining. Let me just put my feet up and relax…

xoxo a.m.

Tips: Here, here and here

Rocket spit

I think, finally, things are starting to settle back into somewhat normal patterns.

I had thought that last week, but then the flu struck! Suddenly and with very little warning. It literally was the week from hell.

There was vomit, abnormally high fevers (104.7!!), lethargy, clingyness. Pretty much all of the shitty things that go along with the flu. I know you have all been there. You know what I’m talking about.

Edward and I took turns staying home with him. By the end of each day, we were literally desperate for adult conversation. I was ecstatic over heading into work. And on the days I stayed home, desperate to go to the gym and go running. Our healthy lifestyle went right out the window. Thai food and red wine… and pizza and wine and etc etc. We threw all our careful plans right out the window, too damn tired to cook or, honestly, do anything.

Blah. But the second he was better? Oh lord. OH LORD.

That would be Saturday. And suddenly, it was like he was never sick at all. Instead, it was rather like he had been resting in order to get into more mischief than usual.

Why on earth I thought of the brilliant plan to go to Florida Mall with him, I will never know. But it seemed a good idea at the time. And why I also thought it was a grand plan to leave the stroller in the car, not really sure.

Edward: “What are you? Some sort of crazy person? Why did you leave it in the car?”

Jaime: “Well, he likes walking with me and I didn’t want to fight with him, or have him insist on pushing the stroller through the crowded mall or… ummm… ya, that’s all I got.”

And my plan would take me to the Aveda store and to M.A.C. Shouldn’t have even bothered, based on my previous experience (see post from 2009 when V puked all over the Aveda store).

Aveda store: I am so sorry that my rambunctious son ran all over your organic bamboo floors, touched all of your organic soy candles and then got behind the counter and tried to play with the cash register. Thank god your uber hip staff was completely focused on the mini-facial she was giving to a customer. She politely ignored me.

M.A.C. store: I am sorry my son repeatedly pulled acorns from his pockets, stuck them in his mouth (ignoring my repeated admonishments) and then rocket spat them out across the store, went and fetched them and popped them back in his mouth. Your uber hip staff was was too busy being uber hip/way cooler than me/pale/trendy etc etc.

He then had many many mini-melt downs on the way out of the mall, turned into many many noodles and just was, in general, awful, mischevious, giggley, whiney and a pain in my ass.

And then when we got to the car he told me “Mummy! That was fun! I am good boy!”

Uhuh. A good boy, eh?

So Vincent is better. Thank goodness.

Now back to our regular routines….

xoxo a.m.

Damn slacker

This is what the inside of my nook looks like.

That would be me. The slacker.

I mean honestly, who do I think I am! And that said. Did you miss me?? You did?! Oh, how I feel so loved.

The truth? Well, the truth is that Edward bought me a nook for Christmas.

You may or may not know this about me, but I am a reading machine. Like an actual machine. I speed read. Plus, I am impatient. So I have issues with ordering books from the library because I want to read them NOW.

And also, I have a 2 1/2 year old, which makes trips to the physical library rather trying.  Mostly there is a lot of running when we visit, which isn’t exactly what the library is intended for. Sometimes I am able to grab a book as we speed past a shelf, but that is a rare occasion.

Edward and I have had a lot of conversations regarding my dirty little habit. Mostly, it involves the money I have invested in it. Invested mostly at Target. In the teen fiction section. On books with vampires in them. (Yes, it’s sad. I know. And also, I am not a ‘teen’. Unless you count being in my mid-thirties as teen.)

“There are such things as libraries, Jame. You don’t have to physically buy each book you read”.

Yes. Thank you Captain Obvious. That was a very helpful statement. Please be sure to include ‘impatient’ and ‘has no patience’ in your equation of ‘wife plus books’.

It will be helpful. It might finally answer those questions you have about me.

Anyways, all I have been doing since Christmas is reading. It’s insane!

The majority of the Vampire Academy series. And I am now on book 2 of The Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan. And that, my friends, is just like coming home. Since I have been reading Robert Jordan since I was in my teens and its bit of a bonding thing for Edward and I. (Japan. Say no more).

It is just eating up hours of my life, in an extremely delicious way. It comes to work with me and entertains me on my lunch break. It goes to the gym and balances nicely on my treadmill. And while I put V to bed, it melds nicely with Cat Stevens. And whenever I have a free moment, it bats it’s suggestive eyes at me and I slink on over for some loving.

I feel a bit like I am carrying around my own personal library which is a huge trip.

And so it’s just been a whole huge super indulgence.

Me, my nook, a few candles, a glass of wine. Can you just see the romance developing?

And that is why I am a huge slacker.

But I still love you. And so does my nook. But I love you more. And oh, the stories I have. Potty training, Christmas,  2 1/2 year old conversations… etc etc etc

love love love

xoxoxo a.m.

Hey January

It’s been a while since we’ve hung out. But, I have to say, I’m glad to see you again.

This year will mark the year V turns three. The year I *really* feel like I need to have another baby before my uterus turns to dust (aka 35). The anniversary of Edward and I meeting 9 years ago in Japan. Actually, it’s in 3 days.

January is always a month of mystery. All of the things you have promised to do and not do. Attempt and not even try. Ignore and love. It’s just a whole month of try, try, try. And try. Right? RIGHT?

Well, let’s just say that there is a whole lot of trying going on. So much, one can feel the change going on in the air. It’s electric.

It is B12 charged.

So here is a few things that I am apparently ringing in the New Year with.

Pro-Fries. Anti-Daddy. Pro-Daddy. Anti-Daddy. Pro-Daddy. Anti-Fries.

And, well, more of the same type of argument.

And then a surprise reappearance of monsters in the bedroom. Oh gosh. Monster spray, god bless you. Since using you for the last 3 nights, bedtime has been much much better. Since Christmas, V has been very better. True!

And well behaved. Which is surprising since we now only have one baby gate. ONE

ONE.

V ripped out one of the gates poles this past weekend, which left a huge hole with ragged wooden edges. So the bottom gate has now become the top gate. And we have no bottom gate. And I gave birth to, well, I’m not sure. But he’s strong. Very strong. Or he’s 2. Either one. Or both.

Yesterday he fell down 5 stairs.

My response! “Oh man! I’m glad that happened!”

Edward: “…..”

Me: “No really! Learning experience.”

Since then its just been a constant CONSTANT conversation of: “Hold the railing V! Hold it! You don’t want to fall down! Let’s be careful. That last fall was a little scary.” “Yes Mummy. Wittle scwary. Its wittle scwarry. Be careful”

And then we fight about it. Then V cries. Then some more fighting. Then some more (mostly fake) crying.

And then, after, we fight some more. For fightings sake. Because that’s what children do with their parents. (Sorry Mum really.)

French Fries. Stairs. Edward. Falling. Electrictickle (what?)

*eighties sound effects slash running music*

Well, whatever is going on in your house. It might be the same thing that’s in mine. You just might not admit it.

Hm. Well, Edward and I are admitting it.

We bless your New Years resolutions times a hundred. As all resolutions should be.  And we share our loving.

xoxo

A.M. (capital)  all the way.