I can roar like a dragon

I think this is what my face looked like this morning...

Or so I found out this morning on my way to my in-laws house. We headed over there for some swimming and there was a rumor floating around that they would babysit while Edward and I went to the movies.

E headed off first, we followed a few minutes later.

I threw in a cd, some nice chill Sarah Harmer (that’s ‘hippy crap’ to you Fran) and it all went down hill from there.

My son disapproved of my music choice

“I no like this, I want the Danger Danger song. Mummy! I want my song! I no like this, I don’t want to listen to it. I want MY MUSIC! TURN IT OFF MUMMY!” etc etc etc

And this was combined with tears, flailing and the whiniest voice you have ever heard. IN YOUR LIFE. Unless you too have a three-year old, then you know exactly what I am talking about.

I, apparently, I left my patience on the couch. And also, one can only listen to ‘Danger Danger, High Voltage by Electric Six’ so many times before losing your damn mind.

This roar erupted out of me that actually was rather frightening. Vince must have agreed because he paused in mid-whine and burst into actual real tears, as opposed to the fake ones previous. Ugh.  I hate it when things like this happen, but sometimes they just do.

3 seconds later, we both moved on. I calmed down, V stopped crying and we hit the expressway to Sassy and Pop-Pop’s.

Once we arrived, I told V it was time to go to the bathroom.

“No, I just did it already.” Oh really. Reeeaaaallllyyy. And nope, you didn’t. Well, you did, but it was 4 hours ago. You are not a camel. So off we went to the potty amid many protestations of “I did it already” and “I don’t have to”.

I shut the door and locked it. Edwards parents weren’t home yet, but I had to go too and I always lock the door. Mistake number one, clearly.

“You don’t lock da door! YOU DON”T LOCK IT!!”

(I’m sitting on the potty)

“I don’t want to go potty!!!!!!! I don’t have to!!!!

(The door is unlocked. Did I mention I was sitting on the potty?)

“I DON”T WANT TO!!!!”

And then he opened the door. I roared just one word “OUT” and he ran.

Edward, from the other room, “Jame? What on earth is going on in there?”

*sigh* Mummy is losing her damn mind.

And then 3 seconds later, Vince announced “I wanna go potty with Daddy”. And off they went, to the potty on the other side of the house. And they returned successful, V proclaiming “Mummy! I did a super monster pee!”

And then V happily went off with his Grandparents and Edward and I went and saw Captain America.

There is, it seems, an awful lot of arguing going on in our house. Vince disapproves of pretty much everything we do and breaks out his multiple not-so-secret weapons of whining, tears and full on fits. I am clearly learning how to handle this. And it seems that I am mostly handling it badly.

Vince has been three for 6 weeks. Geez-us is this way worse than  2.

I’ll get the hang of it eventually, probably when he turns 4…

xoxo a.m.

Oh blessedness, I love and hate you…

Just how I like my mornings to start, full of duckings…

I awoke this morning with such a feeling of total blessedness, that I couldn’t help but be extra genki. I spun and twirled around the second floor of our townhouse, brandishing a toilet bowl brush, wiping down counter tops, throwing laundry in the wash and dryer.

Vince woke up and was in such a deliciously cheerful mood, that I instantly determined that this was, indeed, a blessed day.

He chattered happily away to himself and the dog while up on our big bed, as Edward somehow slept the morning away. How he slept through the never-ending stream of chatter, dog barks, flushing toilets, bouncing, poking, painful hugs, I have no idea. (I think he was faking it, hoping we’d leave…. Ha! Nice try! No sleeping in in our house mister!)

I blessedly went to the gym and blessedly sweated. The boys blessedly went swimming. Vince practiced plugging his nose and squeezing his eyes tight shut and dunking his little chunky face in the pool.

And then, Vince and I blessedly drove to my most favorite of all places to shop…. World Market. And while I shopped, Vince blessedly played Angry Birds on my phone to his heart’s content.

I mean really. Could this day get any better?

And the answer is no. Nope. Mostly because that small person that I was driving around with decided that they hated everything and then some.

Pausing for a quick run in to Home Depot, the following conversation ensued. I really need to remember that he is 3 and not a teenager.

“Mummy, I’m just going to stay in the car”.

“No honey, you’ve got to come into Home Depot with me, it’s too hot for you to stay in the car”.

“No it isn’t”.

“Yes it is”

“No it isn’t. The air is on”.

“Honey, I have to turn the air off when the car stops”.

“No you don’t”.

“Yes I do”.

etc etc etc. Isn’t it just painful to read? It was painful to experience. I didn’t let it destroy my bliss. And I didn’t scream into a paper bag, so all in all I was proud of my self-control.

Somehow, for the remains of the day, I managed to hold on to my bliss. And there were many many many things that attempted to destroy it.

And then, the most blessed of all blessed events took place. (Nope, not me caulking my shower, although that also took place this evening).

My child went to bed, mostly lured there with promises of ice cream the following day if he went to sleep instantly.

Oh bliss. The blessedly blissfulness of a quiet home, a tasty dinner and that wonderful feeling of tiredness that comes after an over-productive day….

Night oh most blessed of all blessed readers…

xoxo a.m.

Epiphany

A few days ago, I was driving  through the parking lot at Publix and I braked and waved a mum and her 2 kids across the traffic. Her hand lifted in a ‘thank you’ wave and then practically leapt down and latched on to her 4 year old’s hand. Her younger child had a pained look on her face and her little fingers twisted and turned and fought the grip her mum had on her.

I literally had an epiphany.

Oh my gosh. It’s not just me. My son is not the only child in the whole world that hates having his hand held. It is, in fact, all children everywhere in the whole entire.

Funnily enough, this was really a kind of shocking epiphany. I think as you are parenting, it is very hard to remember that what you are doing is what all parents are doing everywhere. Even though it very well may be the most frustrating thing ever, or the grossest thing ever. Or the sweetest thing ever. Whatever those things are, they are being repeated endlessly everywhere.

So two days of really awful diarrhea? Yup, that’s going on somewhere.

A 3 year old, running carelessly around the YMCA pool deck with his father shouting at him? Yup, that too.

Asking for a hug before bedtime and getting “No, maybe later Mummy” as a response. Most likely this is happening in every single home around the world simultaneously.

And just to complain for a second, I had to force a hug from my child tonight. First time. Every night I usually get joyous hugs and smooches, without  even asking for them.

Tonight, Edward picked up Vince, handed him to me and then placed his arms around my neck, mimicking a hug. Half a second later, V wiggled out of my arms and proclaimed it was Daddy’s night and essentially banished me to the living room.

Hm. It appears as if my years of overly loving on my son might be approaching their end.

Nothing like a little Angry Birds to relax...

But, at the same time, it really does help to have these epiphanies. Because honestly it is really easy to forget that you are not the only one going through all of this ridiculous, dramatic, wailing, flailing, smart-mouthed, talking back, pooping everywhere (or nowhere) life.

Everyone else is too. Don’t forget.

xoxo a.m.

So last week I turned 35…

Damn you Weather Gods!

I can no longer say I’m in my early thirties. I now have to use a term that I admit I am not too enamored with.

‘mid’

‘mid-thirties’

So there I was, mid-thirties and all, having a birthday. Helping to make it better, Vince proclaimed it was also his birthday. Repeatedly. Like this.

V: “Mummy? It’s your birthday! Happy Birthday. And it’s my birthday too! I made you a cake (he didn’t). I’m gonna eat it, in my tummy!”

That certainly took the sting out of the big 35.

Last year we hit up Disney World and stayed at one of the resorts for a few nights, having a sort of mini-holiday for my birthday. It was so amazing that we did it again this year. We checked in to the Caribbean Beach resort Friday afternoon, hitting up Epcot as soon as we were unpacked. It poured.

And by ‘pour’, I mean dumped. Yup. The weather gods took a huge poop on my Friday night. So big, we had to get ponchos. We looked properly idiotic and therefore blended in with all the other rejects we appeared to be surrounded by. It was a glorious parade of food-babies in wet white tee-shirts.

But I digress… We had a perfectly pleasant evening. Well, I did independently of my son while I was watching CAPTAIN EO!!!!!!!!

Yes, that’s right. I took a solo-trip back to 1991 and watched Michael Jackson crotch-whip an alien plant back  to life (or the 80’s, however you want to look at it).

And then I went and met up with E and V. And let me tell you, not only am I officially 35, but Vince is officially 3. And firmly in the middle of what is clearly ‘The Year of the Whine’. This holiday summed it up for me, if I was having any previous doubts of it.

Oh my lord. Last year, Vince was SO good during our mini-vacay. And this year, well… He was ‘good’ and holy mother was he ever whiny. I mean, I had heard this about that wonderful age of three, but this was my first full 3 day experience with it. And wow. WOW. We just constantly fought. About everything. Everything we said, he wanted to do the opposite of. And if we wanted to do what he wanted? He then wanted to do whatever was the opposite of that. But what was the most frustrating was how much he wanted to push his stroller around the parks.

Usually, not an issue. At Disney? Huge issue. He can’t see over the handles. He doesn’t care where he’s pushing it. And if you help him steer, he throws an enormous fit.

So please, picture us trying to cruise Epcot. Vince, pushing the stroller through the bag check, ramming it into posts. The girls at the gate, declaring him adorable because he told them “I’m just pushing dis ober there”. And then, every three steps, the stroller being rammed into something, occasionally people among other things. We ditched it in France and Vince cried for 10 minutes. And then was so poorly behaved I was just appalled.

He finally passed out hard. Apparently, bad behavior was a combo of exhaustion and being three. And post-nap he was angelic, proclaimed repeatedly “Mummy!!! I give you a kiss and hug!!!!

I can’t decide if it’s The Year of the Whine or The Year of the Bipolar Three Year Old.

Hopefully, its also The Year of the Extra-Patient Mummy. But, I think, isn’t it always that year?

xoxo a.m.

 

 

Sometimes we have the oddest battles…

Annoyed with Edward's shorts in the sink again, I got ready for a night out on the town...

And I am sure that’s true for everyone, actually. Not just parents of little ones, but parents of big ones, non-parents, married couples, non-married couples. Everyone.

Years ago I can remember getting just furious with Edward because he left his shorts in the bathroom sink. Why would you leave YOUR SHORTS in the sink?! I was so mad. Yesterday, I got back from the gym, stripped and plunked my sports bra in the sink. And in my self-defense it’s because it’s bright purple, has a tendency to run and I don’t trust Edward to do laundry properly.

About 2 years ago, I remember (yes, it’s all Edward’s fault) being SO MAD at him because he would use my facecloth to wipe off his freshly shorn head. And then, not only did he not rinse it off, but he hung it back. Leaving me, unsuspectingly , to encounter it early morning while washing my face, leaving me covered in dark hair. I looked like one of the wolf people.

Tonight with Vince, it was something just plain bizarre. He was terribly wound up when I picked him up at my in-laws. And had been stuffing himself with turkey pepperoni and provolone. He chattered away happily to himself in the backseat as we drove back to our house:

“My head went boop! And then my hair was all gone. Mummy! My hair! It’s not der! It’s aaallllll gone. Uh-oh, I found one! My hairs! Der back!” etc etc

Back at our sweet pad, he dashed around like a crazed monkey. I managed to squeeze some yogurt into him and half a (don’t judge) corn-dog. He announced “I no want to eat, I wanna do a puzzle”.

So we trotted upstairs with some milk, got our pj’s on, got all ready for a puzzle session. We read a bedtime book, put on Cat Stevens and flipped off the lights. And then V flipped out.

“I want my dinnnnnnnner! I want my macaroniiiiiiiiiii! I need my dinner!”

“I want my peas and corn. Mummy, I need my peas and corn Mummy! I NEED MY PEAS AND CORN!!!”

Holy moly, where did this come from? Why on earth are peas and corn the sudden subject of a torrential downpour? And then, just like the rain in Florida, it stopped.

And it made me laugh. I waited, of course, until I’d left the room. I had to wait at least a day to laugh at Edward’s damn shorts in the sink. And maybe 20 minutes, post-wolf-face.

Sometimes the oddest battles are the best, partially because they make the greatest stories. And great stories are the cement of awesome relationships. We got some damn good cement over here….

xoxo a.m.

 

I’m one busy beast

Maybe, might just possibly have overdone it today. Just maybe.

Woke up at 7, V up at 7:30, made breakfast, went to playdate at the park with V’s little girlfriend.

It was hot as a m-f’er at Moss Park, and humid. And we all sweated so damn much. V to the point where 3/4 of his hair was completely soaked with sweat, little sweat droplets swaying at the end of every damp curl.

Headed back to the house, cleaned the garage, measured all closets for shelf additions with father-in-law. Potted roses. Pulled weeds.

Went to YMCA and did 5 miles on the elliptical (600 calories, not too shabby!)

Headed back home, rearranged plants some more, filled pool for V, splashed a little. Showered, cleaned up. Walked with Vince to nearby park for another playdate with his new little friend Nate.

Now let me say, I did mostly sit during this little ‘mandate’, but it was hot as hades and my girlfriend and I sat, sweating away, next to each other while we watched our boys tear that playground the m-f up.

And then we had had enough, Edward came and picked me up and we went straight to Costco, got a membership, shopped and then finally headed home.

And then? Bathed and fed a small beast, bbq’d and settled down for some Big Brother and True Blood.

And while watching telly, I apparently realized how freaking tired I am.

I CANNOT wait until next weekend when Edward whisks me away to Disney for my birthday mini-holiday. I SHALL lounge endlessly poolside, I promise.

xoxo a.m.

Please try to not pull all your hair out, ok?

Cheerfully polishing a fry-pan, I prepared to beat myself over the head with it...

Or at least that’s what I tried not to do yesterday with Vince.

Check out my sweet parenting logic:

In order to get ones child to eat more veggies, buy more veggies. With this in mind, yesterday Vince and I hit Pubes (aka Publix) for some healthy lunch things for me. As I picked out my veggies, Vince asked “What doing, Mummy?”

Mummy: “Buying some veggies, honey.”

Vince: *curiously* “Oh! I like veggies too!!”

Mummy: “You do? Do you like broccoli?”

Vince: “No, I no like broccoli. I like veggies.”

Mummy: “I like broccoli, it’s yummy. AND it makes you strong!”

Vince: “I’m stronger! I like broccoli! I want to eat it! In my mouth!”

Ok, I can handle this. I went and bought one of those Amy’s Organic kids meals (did I mention I was about falling over from exhaustion? And that is why I bought a microwave meal for my child. The End.) Anyways, it had broccoli in it and Vince promised to eat it and the macaroni that came with.

So home we went and I ‘cooked’ dinner for him. He sort of dragged his feet at eating and I sort of ended up ‘encouraging’ him to do it. Scooping up a little spoonful of noodles, I handed it to him. “No Mummy! NOOOOOOO! I can’t eat it! It’s too much!:

?? Too much? There were precisely 3 noodles on that spoon.

“No Mummy, like dis,” he proclaimed solemnly as he proceeded to flick off two of the noodles from the spoon. “And dats enough,” he said. And then he ate ONE noodle.

And then he ate ONE more noodle. And then he ate individual noodles for 5 minutes. I swear I was almost bald by the time dinner was over. It was the only way I could remain patient. And sane. I might have moaned out-loud repeatedly.

And then? He refused to eat broccoli.

“No Mummy, YOU like veggies. You eat it.”

Alright FINE.

I will baldly eat YOUR broccoli and enjoy it, dammit. DAMMIT!

xoxo a.m.

Things we very bravely do…

And that would be taking a child to the movie theatre. Is that crazy? Are we crazy?

No, right? I thought not. I figured since he is 3 (albeit just barely) and Cars 2 just came out, this was the *perfect* opportunity to introduce the cinema to Vincent. And vice versa.

There was a lot of lead up. ‘We’ had to go to bed early the night before because ‘we’ needed to make sure that ‘we’ had a good sleep. Worked like a charm.

Vince and I discussed many things to do with the theatre the night before:

Mummy: “So it’s going to be dark in the theatre, but that’s ok. It’s not scary.”

Vince: “Oh it’s dark? That’s ok Mummy, don’t be scared.”

Mummy: “And it might be a bit noisy, but that’s ok too, right?

Vince: “Mummy, it might be a little noisy, don’t be scared, ok?”

Mummy: “And we’ll get some popcorn and a drink and special treat, ok?”

Vince: “Mummy, do you want a special treat at the theatre? Let’s get it!”

(and yes, I taught him how to say theatre.)

So all in all, he seemed pretty amendable to the whole situation. And he was excited to walk around with Daddy while Mummy got snacks. He pointed various things out in a lovely chirpy, bright voice that made everyone smile at him.

And off we headed to Theatre 7 to pick out our seat. No-one was seated at all. This might have been because it was Closed Captioned and there with subtitles for the hearing impaired on the bottom of the screen. And good thing too! (about the empty theatre, not so much on the CC-ing)

Because once we were seated, the screaming, crying and clinging began. I don’t even remember what the preview was for, something suitable for kids I presume. Probably animated.

Scream.

Scream scream scream scream scream.

*eyes firmly cemented shut the whole time*

Wail wail wail mixed with one of the following “My Mummy, I want my Mummy!!” or “My Daddy, I want my Daddy!!!”

And then, suddenly Woody and Buzz Lightyear were on the screen for some reason. And all wailing and flailing stopped. This was followed by the sweetest, quietest, loveliest preview for Winnie the Pooh’s new movie. V was enchanted.

And then? Lightening McQueen and Mator burst onto the screen, larger than life.

Shrieks of delight began!

“Mummy!! It’s Liting Keen and Maynard!! My firetruck!! Mummy! Dere driving weel faster! Oh no! Finn McMissile (makes me giggle every time he says his name PERFECTLY) got an owie. He fell in da water! OH NO!!!!!!”

And from there on, we were fine. He ate popcorn and drank Hi-C. He clapped and cheered. He went to the bathroom EIGHT TIMES. I missed the end of the movie due to a sudden, violent need to pee. Even though *someone* had just gone 3 minutes earlier.

Success! Success success! The beloved child has been indoctrinated into his parents other love.

xoxo a.m.