Please stop asking for donuts (during the christening)

Getting all gussied up for church

Last night we landed in Orlando around 10:30. I was in bed by 11 pm. Such is the blessing of living near the airport. In bed, not unpacked, but in bed with a washed face and contact lenses out.

And up a few hours later for work which, in retrospect, possibly I should have just slept through, on my couch. I was mostly coherent. Another blessing.

And speaking of blessings, Vince was blessed by Father Stephen on Sunday with his cousin Chloe, truly a mostly well-behaved event.

It sounds like I said most well-behaved, right? It’s a lie.

Vince: “Mummy, I no like this place! I wanna go home. I no like it. I wanna go. I NO LIKE IT!! I WANNA GO!!”

…is what was chanted during the ceremony. And I would love for you to guess where we were sitting. Please do. Please. PLEASE.

Also: “Mummy, I WANNA DONUT!” and “Mummy! Where’s my firetruck!” and “Mummy, I dropped my firetruck!

And then, mostly just the following “Mummy! Mummy Mummy Mummy Mummy! MUMMY! Mummy Mummy!

It was a wee bit of a long ceremony, longer then I was anticipating. I can totally understand the whinging. Vince and Chloe were the oldest there, so it’s not that surprising that they were TOTALLY bored with everything.

Tricky thing, this christening. Tricky thing. The real tricky part is when the Priest asks you to lean them over the the font. But your child is, perhaps, three. So leaning is really out of the question.

It’s more like draping a stiff mannequin over a fountain… One that is silently screaming, that is. Who knew they could do that? While being politely draped over a baptismal font. Oh child of mine, you are so good at being dramatic..

It was a lovely, painful, extra dramatic, donut-wishing, fire-truck driving on bibles type of ceremony. A real special ceremony.

Special.

We survived. That is all.

xoxo a.m.

Mostly about sweaters, not at all about christening…

Too many cool people to count...

 

This morning started off terribly relaxed. I am pleased to report that Vince ran himself so ragged with his cousins yesterday, that he crashed hard. And so did his parents.

Yesterday was Vincent and Chloe’s Christening party, which was held and organized by Chloe’s parent’s, Edward’s Aunt Christine and Uncle Lee at a really pretty little park on Long Island (I’d tell you where, but honestly, I’m not really sure where we were).

Christine pretty much broke her back organizing everything and it was amazing. Centerpieces, catered delicious food, party favours, childrens crafts etc etc. How she is not dead from exhaustion, I have no idea…

We arrived and helped (sort of) set up and for a while I wondered if as many people as I were told were coming. It was pretty quiet, Vince and his two little cousins ran around and scared the Canadian Geese that were chilling out. (Hey look!! My family showed up!) and it was a pretty low key event…

And then, what started off as a slow trickle became a deluge of Italians. Not that I’m complaining, I love them all.  Oh how I LOVE them. It just seemed that there were none and then suddenly there were 70. And all of them were saying one of the two following statements:

“Vincent is the most adorable thing I have ever seen. LOOK AT THOSE CURLS!!”

And

“When are you having another?” And when I paused to answer… (while holding a Bud Light Lime) “Are you pregnant RIGHT NOW?!?!”

I think I hit 10 before I lost count. I asked Edward this morning. His response?

“Are you two going to have another baby? Is Jaime pregnant RIGHT NOW?”

Oh my lord.

Let me just clear everything up.

Yes, we are planning on having another child. No, I am currently not pregnant. I will be sure to let you all know immediately as soon as I find out, right after I pee on the stick. Maybe even before I tell Edward. Possibly before my mother-in-law knows. Maybe I’ll tell everyone via blog, that way everyone will instantaneously know. Plus, it will up my readership. To include more members of my family. Ha!

So, to conclude. I heart my family. Yes, they are all crazy and obsessed with babies. We eat a lot together. In fact, that appears to be what we do best. Yes, we are trying to have another one. No, I am not pregnant.

I really hope that has cleared up any and all questions…Don’t hesitate to ask me anything else. I’m sure you won’t.

xoxo a.m.

Licking the butter off the waffle… What a surprise..

Brendels Bagels on Long Island, NY. Currently in pastry bliss…

“Suck on my ass!” and other things unrelated to this post…

So I’m on Long Island. With the boys. And our adventure is about to begin.

We flew out of Orlando this morning, getting up way too early for my liking. I shouldn’t complain that much, my in-laws got up way, way, way earlier than we did.

Vince was shockingly well-behaved at the airport. He was shockingly well-behaved through security too. We waited nicely for our boarding call. We made frequent trips to the potty. He POOPED on the potty at the airport!! Holy Moly, this trip is awesome!!

I spent a frightening amount of time packing a backpack for Vince, filled with stickers, colouring books, a few toys, snacks, spare pants etc etc.

Funnily enough, he barely played with these things.  He did have fun with the stickers, but not in the orderly manner I was expecting. It was one of those sticker collecting books, with numbered stickers (in this case, Cars 2). All the stickers are on the cover, none are in the boos. Some might be on the plane still, decorating the tray and arm-rest. (Some are in my pocket, please don’t tell him. He was looking for them earlier). I had to restrain myself from ‘helping’ him. I might as well have just bought my own sticker book. So sad…

After a fairly uneventful trip (I cannot even believe I just said that), we are cozily ensconced in our hotel, having a beer, listening to some actor in City Slickers 2 shout “Suck it! Suck on my ass!!”

Tonight’s itinerary? Dinner with 18 close members of Edward’s family…

Ha! Wish me luck and a well-behaved son… (and then, pat me sadly on the back and tell me ‘dream on’.)

Off to squeeze in a snooze before eating more….

xoxo a.m.

 

Please be my friend…

 

So since Vince turned 3 1 1/2 weeks ago, things seem so much different. I wonder if every parent notices this at this landmark age? And by landmark age, I simply mean a further continuation of the hell that was 2 that has now become 3.

But by hell, I really mean ‘fun’ and ‘awesomeness’.

Three is terribly interesting. Three means rather a lot of interesting conversations about a lot of interesting things.

Sometimes it’s about dinosaurs:

Vince: “Mummy hurry! The dinosaur is gonna get us!”

Mummy: “Oh my gosh, it is? What should we do?”

Vince: “We gotta hide!!”

Sometimes its just random arguments, politely worded..

Vince: “Mummy, I’m just gonna do this ober der, ok?”

Vince: “Mummy, I’m just gonna stand on dis right here.”

Vince: “Mummy, I’m just gonna take this from here.”

Mummy: “No. Vince, please don’t do that/take this/stand there.”

Please don’t open the fridge and try to pour your own milk. Please don’t carry my weights around the upstairs and state “Mummy!! I’m stronger!!” Actually, its OK that you do that. I love it. Please don’t sweep my floors. Please don’t pull the dogs tail, he will bite you for sure. Please don’t cry, I know the dog just bit you. Please talk to your Nana on Skype. Please say ‘hi’ to your Grandparents on the phone. Please, please, please…

It is just a huge, endless session of ‘please’. Mostly followed by ‘no’. Interspersed with dinosaurs and frogs attacking whomever is nearest. Frequent exclamations of “Mummy! I did a HUGE poo! Come see!” (and subsequent clapping).

Is this starting to sound like your life? Are you me? Are we the same person?

Not that I dislike it, it’s new and interesting. I like new and interesting things. I like Vince. Hence, I like this new path of ridiculous.

Today as a Lexus van drove slowly past our family walking, I thought “Based on seeing us, they probably are not going to move here”. Vince in a wife-beater with a monkey, combat shorts and dinosaur rubber boots, Edward in practically his underwear and myself in a tank-top I used to wear when I was hugely preggos and capris printed with flamingos…

Don’t you want to be our neighbors and friends? Don’t you want to share the joy of ‘3’ with us? Aren’t you already doing the same thing that we are?

We are JUST down the street. In fact, we are your neighbors already.

xoxo a.m.

Techical error

So that post I thought I posted on Father’s Day? Um, technical error. Didn’t post. Most likely because I forgot to hit the ‘publish’ button. But that’s OK. You didn’t really want to read another blather about fathers and dads and sons and everyone all doing super things together, right??

We ate pizza and went swimming. Vince painted Daddy a picture. It was extremely sweet. So that was Father’s Day, and then Edward went to work and I went to sleep. Party.

We are gearing up for our trip to New York this weekend. I should clarify that we are not actually going to the Big Apple. We are hitting up Long Island. You know, where Lindsay Lohan is from? There.

So unfortunately Tracy, I will not be going handbag shopping. As much as I long to be ushered up staircases and behind black sheet-draped enclosures, I will not be. Vince and his cousin Chloe are getting christened together on Sunday instead.

I guess it’s a good trade-off…

Maybe someone wants to just pick me up a handbag as a christening gift to Vince? Right. I thought not.

I am pretty excited to head up North to see the family. The last time we were up there was when Edward’s other little cousin Anna was christened in 2006. Which was just a few weeks after I moved to Florida from Canada. It was a bit of a culture shock for this Canadian, which is funny to look back at.

What a transformation a polite Canadian has when confronted by 70 or so Italians who mostly are eating things that Canadians are not accustom to devouring. And I say devour because that’s what I did. Pretty much the whole time. At Edward’s Grandparents house. At that really awesome restaurant we all ate at. At Edward’s aunts house, the one with the chocolate fountain?

It’s been 5 years and I am now a corrupt Anglo-Italian. Of sorts. Or at least my son is, being as he is actually of Italian and Canadian descent. And says ‘Mummy’ and ‘holiday’ and yet, also, eats mortadella by choice and has requested salami. And is three years old.

And who’s Mummy is an epic rambler. What was I talking about? Why am I not in bed? Happy Father’s Day! Belated!

Heading to Long Island in 3 days and am terrifically excited… Don’t worry, I’ll ramble again  before then…

xoxo a.m.

Extended lifecycle

 

Somehow it ended up happening. Our son’s life cycle extended itself another year… Despite somehow running into every wall known to man, sliding along surfaces on his stomach that are not the least bit slidey and those periodic weeks where he ate nothing at all… He is still alive.

He (we) survived.

Today, Vince and I hit up the pediatrician for his 3 year check. Every year is something different. Year one and Year two were mainly about shots. That I remember, anyways.

This year I actually had to get him to pee in a cup. Oh all that is holy, why, why  is this even needed?! Five minutes in the potty with Vince was required. I had to count to ‘almost three’ several times, hold the cup inside the potty for potential aiming purposes and thI literally had to ‘place’ the cup in the area. There was ‘cupping’. And with cupping, suddenly came pee. So much, in fact, that I was afraid that the cup would not contain it all.

V: “DADDY!! I pee in a cup!!”

Daddy: “Good job Little Man!”

And that really was the highlight of the afternoon. Peeing into containers is an awesome symbol of mans achievement. And peeing.

Post-pee, Vince was surprisingly cool with everything his doctor could throw at him. Check my ears? Sure! Listen to my heart? Why not! (All I could think during this mostly was ‘who are you?!”) Look in my mouth? No. No, actually, you cannot do that. And don’t lie about counting my teeth like Mummy said you would. BULLSHIT.

But I have no issues with you checking out my scrotum. At all. Typical.

Anyways, the verdict is he is huge. 75th in height and 95th in weight. And, flatteringly enough, she said his developmental skills are genius as is his verbal communication. And then he was cheeky and said a couple smart comments to her which made her laugh.

Yay Mummy and Daddy. I guess that’s what you get when you have two English Majors that marry each other and then procreate. And, post-creation, epically push books slash reading at every possible moment.

So it’s good. V is clever. V is amazing. V is Awesome. V: Genius.

Clearly I gave birth to the James Bond of pediatric yearly follow ups. Nice.

Nice work V!!!

xoxo a.m.

 

 

Words that, perhaps, you shouldn’t call your son

This afternoon as I was getting ready for my lady date, Vince came running down the hallway and threw open my bedroom door.
Leaning against it, he started shouting at me…

I was shaving my legs. You know, that one time a week when I have someone to impress? That are ladies?
So in he runs, shouting something that frankly was rather hard to understand. By the third time he shouted it, I understood and then started to inwardly laugh…

Vincent: “Sweetie! Sweetie sweetie! Sweetie! SWEETIE!!!”

Mummy: “Ah…. Yes?”

Vince: “I did a big poo.”

Who knew that this was a ‘sweetie’ worthy conversation topic?

And guess what? That is totally all my fault.

‘Sweetie’ and ‘Babe and ‘Honey’ are all things that I regularly call Vince instead of his actual name. And clearly he thinks this is just things that people call one another. Which, technically, is true if you actually, physically live in my house.

Everyone has some other name, or no name, or a name plus an additional name. Like how the dog is “Chewie McBitersonton”. Or how Edward is, well, ‘Edward’. He’s just too formal. And a huge pain in my ass. And Vince, of course, has too many names to list.

About 2 weeks ago, Vince shouted “Honey!! HONEY!! HONEY!!!!!!”

Mummy: “WHAT!!!!!!!”

Vince: “Mummy, your my best fwen. I wuve you.”

Mummy: *heart melt* “Love you too baby…”

xoxo a.m.

Things I think my child will like (that he hates)

Currently I am winning the war on the poo over here. It’s been 2 days of NO accidents and 2 whole days of pooing on the potty. And peeing in it too. Kind of a ‘hallelujah’ moment in the Melvin household. There is, to be honest, rather a lot of high-fiving going on as a result.

And with one problem disappearing, of course a new one rears its head. The always fun eating issue. You know, that one where they don’t want to? Ya. That one.

My household is currently on a vegetable strike. 2 1/2 years ago, I never thought V would make such a big deal about veggies. But when he was 6 months old, he was considerably weaker than he is now. Also less vocal. And also I could just make him.

I am pretending it’s a non-issue. No forcing going on. He eats the occasional piece of corn.

Today on the way home he announced “I no want nothing for dinner”.

“Oh? No macaroni? What about a sandwich? Chicken nuggets?”

Yes, yes, I know, why am I giving him a choice. Just make the m-f-ing dinner and he will eat it.

Well, actually he won’t. Not right now.

Tonight I was as desperate as I have ever been. Desperate enough to bring out this secret weapon.

“Would you like me to make you a frog sandwich?! It’s SO YUMMY!”

Edward (sotto voce) asked “What’s a frog sandwich?”

I whispered back “I don’t know. We’ll find out in a few moments”.

A frog sandwich is as follows:

Almond butter (if you are peanut free like we currently are) or peanut butter

Jelly (type red)

Sandwich rounds (but use bread too)

2 raisins

half a cheese stick.

And so you assemble. I cut the bottom off the sandwich round in a sort of half moon and put it on top like a 3-d mouth. And cut the top of the round and divided it into sections, creating 2 eyes and with a little leftover nub for a nose.

I toothpicked the eyes with a  raisin on top of each piece. I took my half cheese stick, cut that in half and then split them to look like legs.

Vince was delighted. He ate the nose. Then refused to eat anything else of it.

*Le sigh*

I le suck and making le gourmet designer meals.

Please pump my ego up and tell me it looks awesome… (or laugh at me, either one)

xoxo a.m.

Probably I need to take an art class...