Category Archives: Autumn

Neb Ninja

Just another post about nebulizers. This must really get boring for you to read about, but seriously. I have to vent about them.

Back at the Dr suddenly last week (due to a awful cough), we are back on the neb, different medication and 2x a day treatments. Discussing the previous issues with the nebulizer with V’s Dr, she offered some options. Try something different but slightly similar, or try the neb again. Since he was literally an angel taking a treatment at the office, I felt confident that we would be able to continue this at home!

So Tuesday night, treatment time and again, so well-behaved. I was in shock. Lollipops really work!! Is that all it really took? I can’t believe I scoffed at them and their magical powers, without even really giving them a chance.I was thrilled with his behavior. I bought a huge bag and happily planned things that would work as ‘distractions’ while we did treatments.

Day 2 of the ‘treatment’ didn’t go so well. We only managed 1 as opposed to the 2 we were supposed to do. But I figured that was better than nothing. And his cough was loosening up, he didn’t sound that wheezy, so not so bad.

Day 3? Forget it.

Disaster.

M did treatment in the AM and we double-teamed in the PM. Apparently my ideas of ‘distractions’ collide with reality:

Sesame Street.

Elmo books.

Gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. Lollipops. Squeezey fruit packs (Celine, these did not go over well). Juice boxes. Giving neb treatments to the dog (not really), Daddy (ditto) and whatever was nearby.

Please picture reality colliding with all of these things and then exploding all over them.

This evening he cried until he literally was red-faced. As soon as I let him escape my lap and those feet hit the carpet, he clapped his hands. He was so happy to be free from the neb. He clapped and clapped.

I might have commented previously on how V has taken the trait of ‘stubbornness’ from both M and I, so it’s multiplied. Not such a good thing. As evidenced every time I try and hold his hand when we cross the road. He not only doesn’t want to, but crouches down and tries to pull his hand out of mine. This results in a lot of crouches and stopped traffic.

Man. Nebulizers are exhausting. How on earth I am expected to fit these into a day, I don’t even know. I feel overwhelmed.  But concerned at the same time. I want to make sure that Little Man  is a healthy beast, but.. well…. I think I really should just be feeling grateful that this is the most dramatic of health issues that we are dealing with at the moment. Other familys are dealing with so much more…

And I can think of one in specific (Joa xoxo), so it easily puts my health issues in the backseat of my crappy Hyundai. And lets them just sit there. And maybe have a juice box since they are cranky from being on the back burner(ish). Juice boxes make everything better.

Oh Nebulizer, how we want to love you. Can you just please love us back?

xoxo a.m.

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The Ladies

ladies-blog

I know she only has one arm... sometimes the Ladies room is just that dangerous...

Things I did today for the first time….

Got poop stuck under one of my fingernails. And no, it was not mine. In 17 months, this was the first time it has happened. How it hasn’t, no idea…. however, lately he has become extremely thrashy. Like his father, mid-90’s. So genetics. Ya. Thanks M, for passing that genetic gift on.

I also took V into the Ladies Room with me today. Why I thought this would be a brilliant idea? Not sure… But I had to go to the bathroom and we were about to hit up a long drive. Luckily no-one was in the room when we entered and it stayed that way the whole time we were in there.

The moment his feet hit the floor of the stall, he turned around and those little fingers went right for the latch. Oh the fast mind of a mother…. “Ooooh, look honey…. toilet paper! On a roll! Oooooooh! Look! We can keep pulling and pulling and pulling it…..”

And that’s how he kept himself occupied the whole time we were in there. And then we washed our hands. With soap. All wet, freshly washed hands go directly down the front of Mummy’s shirts and into her bras.

And then there was the first time I said ‘NO!!’ in a very strong manner to Little Man. And then he laughed at me. Actually, he laughed so much, that he fell down on the ground and proceeded to keep giggling.

I even pulled out all of the stops with a full-on first, middle and last name firm, warning-like tone.

He kept laughing at me.

And then he hit his head on  the exact thing that I was trying to steer him away from. Which was the TV stand, in case you were wondering. That stand and all of its wires are truly a beacon to all men.

And then he cried. A lot. And then I felt slightly smug…. I was all like “See?!?! SEE!!!! That’s why I was trying to keep you away from there!!!”.

But since we are not really at a communicating stage yet, he didn’t listen to my logic and kept crying.

And I can’t handle it. So I scooped him up, gave him a cuddle and that crying stopped in…oh…2 seconds….

FAKER!!

I don’t think he really bumped his head at all… I think he just smacked the console and made a sound that was the same as hitting your head…

Damn it! So screwed over here… need more skills to deal with toddlers.

PS… All of these lovely occurrences happened today… just an fyi…

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17

17-blog

17 months, that is…

And it is a most interesting number. And a most interesting, um, adventure for Mummies and Daddies. You know who you are (or were).

It recently started with the word ‘No”. And then was followed by “Mummy, no. I don’t want to hold your hand”. This was communicated by, well, mostly grunts and, um, annoyed looks.

Someone is in the middle of asserting his independence and is not enjoying the doubts that Mumma is having regarding his decisions. Such as decisions regarding crossing a street without holding onto Mumma’s hand. I am pretty sure that all of you reading (ie my Mum and possibly my mother-in-law) realize that I am right.

Could you please tell V? Since he is currently a non-verbal Italian, he just stops in his tracks and squats down, trying to pull his hand out of mine. Since I am an emotional Canadian, I can read his body language.

I think all he wants to do is careen madly down the sidewalk, looking slightly tipsy as he bounced back and forth on our various neighbour’s lawns. I think he hears the name ‘V……’ and the word ‘No’ and reacts accordingly.

A few major temper tantrums have been introduced. Mostly involving him having a ‘fit’ (and very loose terminology is used here),  throwing himself on the floor and mostly smacking his head while doing so. Which induces crying. And so then I pick him up. And then he struggles with me holding him. And then I put him down. Repeat. Repeat etc etc.

And so life is interesting.

And my Mum is laughing. I know she is, as she was laughing earlier while I was complaining about this. I figure its divine retribution. I know I was  a pain in the ass. And I know M is a pain in the ass. And so the equation.

M+J=V(pain)2

Our respective mothers are peeing their pants laughing right now. Busting a gut (in a refined manners… as I know they are lovely ladies and all). Still. So tired.

xoxo a.m.

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Breasts

breasts-blog

Recently V started something new.

Pointing at my chest, more like poking me in the breasts (gawd, I hate writing ‘breast’, makes me feel like I am a guidance counselor and have a group of teens giggling at me)…anyways, he pokes me in the ‘breasts’ and exclaims ‘Mumma!’. And then he pulls my shirt out and takes a peek down it. And after he’s done that, he looks up at me and grins in the hugest way…

My first reaction? Laughter… Because FOR REAL, how else do you react to something like that?!

That is followed by… ummm…not sure what…blank? Awkward grin? A wtf face?

One of those….

It WAS rather funny. And now it’s moved into a pattern of, say, all the time. Which I guess, in hindsight, is not really a pattern at all. More of a regular event. A daily event actually.

Hm.

As are the other things, and you parents of boys know exactly what I mean. And I can sum it all up with the phrase “It starts early and never ends”. And I mean it. And then, for you non-boy parents, I will throw in the phrase ‘bits’, ‘adjusting’ and ”touching’. Is it clear? Have you ever met a man? Talked with one? Perhaps lived with one?

Then it’s clear…

It is the beginning of man. With each day passing, I understand my husband of almost 5 years just a little bit more. Watching a baby grow into a toddler and into a boy and then into a man…. well it’s basically the evolution of ‘man’ itself.

The breast obsession/hype, followed by the penis obsession.

Oh son of mine, you will not read this for many, many a year. Thank you for the  inspiration…

(and stop poking my breasts like that!)

xoxo a.m.

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Slap it hard

slap-blog

Boys can be very exhausting.

Riding on the end of an influenza, ear infection, projectile vomiting, high fever, nebulizer, late night crying and screaming, wheezy, asthmatic, some-one-bit-my-child-at-school month of October, I have had enough.

Enough October!! Give it a rest! Bring on November in all of it’s sweet turkey finery. Mummy needs a break.

I will not get one though, such is the life of Mummy.

Little Man is going through a ‘Mummy’ phase. Everything is ‘Mumma’ and ‘No’. Mostly ‘no’ to people who aren’t Mumma. And also ‘no’ when it is Mumma as well. He is alternately extremely delighted by everything that involves me and clingy as well. He just can’t get enough of me.

Secretly I am delighted. And secretly I am a little scared of my reaction. And then publicly terrified that I will be one of ‘those’ mum’s. Since I have called his Doctor every week for about a month now (and am really restraining myself from calling this week), I feel like I am edging there. They might know who I am. Hopefully they think I am nice (nervous laughter) and not a total psychopath-slash-first time mother.

This is a hard line to tread for me. Especially for a person such as myself, who tends to be rather concerned with what people think of her.

On one hand, I don’t care at all. I will happily babble nonsense at V down the aisle of any store and say the most ridiculous things to him. Random stories about the fruits and vegetables we are passing by…promises to make him yummy dinners, more delicious than he has ever eaten. Descriptions of things we are going to do on the weekend.

Confronted with people actually paying attention to me, it’s another thing altogether. Suddenly I do care very much about what I am saying and how I am coming across to them.

Basically I will kiss Little Man’s chubby cheeks to the point of rawness, and then afterwords wonder if anyone thinks I am too doting of a mother. But at the same time, I don’t give a shit. Because he is the cutest, sweetest Little Man in the world, way cuter than yours, by the way… Just in case you wanted to hear that. WAY cuter. And most handsome. And best personality. See? See what I mean? (My personality makes this rather conflicting…)

And I will call the pediatrician non-stop and use that overly friendly voice that annoys me so much at the office that I work at. You know, that voice you use when you want a favor? Except, I am not a bitch, like so many of the mothers I speak to (except for that one time…. but it was perfectly excusable…)

So this whole ‘biting’ thing at daycare really, well, bites. And super sucks. And bites even more…

I am unsure how to proceed with this. I called the director of the school, informed her and the teacher and now (apart from tossing the mother of the biter out into the parking lot and having a proper slap-down) I am not too sure what the next step is…

No slapping, right? And I must be sure to teach V about the no slapping rule as well….

*sigh*

xoxo a.m.

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Well, shit.

Just a few things that I have noticed that V brings home from daycare.

Bruises

This is a major one. Now probably this is because he has been walking for about 1 month (1 MONTH!) and falls down all of the time. Tonight during bath-time I noticed that his calves were literally littered with little bruises. It looks like someone whacked those little legs with a stick. And there were even a couple on the side of his little tush. My eyebrows raised a little when I saw those little bruises. What on earth is going on at DayCare that results in bum bruises?

Unexplained marks

Yesterday I picked him up from school and he was crying. He wasn’t crying when I was peeking at him from outside, but between me peeking and entering the building, something had happened. Something, and nobody seemed to clear on what had made him cry.

Well, regardless, off we went. We stopped for some french-fries on the way home. Just a little treat for my wee man. About 2 hours later I happened to notice a mark on his arm. With a closer look, I realized that it looked a lot like someone’s small mouth. As in someone bit him. Nice. And so there you go. Someone bit my child. And I learned about it by accident.

I mentioned it this morning when I dropped him off and apparently the class has a biter. During bath-time tonight, while I was noticing his cane-marks on those calves, I saw a faded mark on his other arm. The more I looked at it, the more I became convinced that it was another bite-mark. It was suspiciously rounded and mouth-like.

Shit.

Well, shit.

Shit.

Art Projects

Now these are delightful.

Yesterday I received 3 little things that he had done, little things he had painted and glued things on to. I just love this.

Tonight when I came home, V had ‘homework’. Oh, I even loved this! We had to send 5 different leaves to school tomorrow for a ‘project’. Off we went as a family to get some leaves. How lovely to have a little family project.

So biting, bruising and art work. That is what school has brought us so far. Oh, and the flu. And also a constant cold for 3 weeks. And some added emotional stress for all of us. And the word ‘No’.

So far school is kicking our ass. Damn it!! I was trying for a win!

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Mundane ass

ass-blog

As I attempt to make more of an effort with my blog posting, please do not be discouraged with the possible mundaneness of some of my posts.

I know you all want to know about V pooping, what I ate for dinner and how M annoyed me this week… Right? Right!!

Thank the Heavens Above (I am so thank that it is capitalized) that it is Thursday night. I swear the weeks are getting longer. And clearly also shorter AND faster since it is almost American Thanksgiving down here. Which means that it almost Christmas, which means that it is almost New Years, which means that V is almost 2, which means that I am almost thirty-****, which means that probably I need to have another baby, which means that I am pregnant.

See where I can go when I get going?

I am not pregnant.

In fact, I am hoping to look less pregnant as we joined the YMCA and I actually went twice this week. A beginners twice, which means it was 2 “I haven’t been to the gym in a coon’s age” workouts.

And holy mother do my legs hurt today from Tuesday’s workout. I ran for 30 minutes. Ignoring that fact that I haven’t been to the gym or ran since sometime in the beginning of September. I have faith in myself. I can run.

And so I did. And not only that, but I marveled at my speed and fluidity. I was flying man!! It felt awesome! I totally had a flash forward (see above ramble) and was instantly super fit and feeling awesome.

Tonight I went again, same thing. But with more pain, as my legs are stiff from all of the fluid running I did the other night. It still felt good. And then I went home and ate a sub. Nice. Clearly my diet of FOOD and excercise is really going to help me get in better shape. Oh, and carrying V up the stairs to bed. By the way my muscles are aching when I reach the top, I must be on the path to a rock hard ass.

Yup. That’s right. Rock hard ass. I am all over this gym thing, even if it kills small parts of me.

I’ll keep you posted…

xoxo a.m.

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Yesterday

autumn-blog

Yesterday I had a ‘1994’ experience.

Gluten-free blueberry pancakes and MacGyver (oh how I love you and your clever ways) were how V and I started the morning. I made itty-bitty  sized ones (mix by Pamela’s, best Gluten-free mix I have tried so far). Babies and pancakes are a good thing. Babies and blueberries are not. Did you know if Blueberry pancakes hit the (beige) carpet at a Toddler-throw velocity, there will be  a stain? Perfect illustration as to why one should get hard-wood flooring. (This has nothing to do with 1994)

Post-pancake and MacGyver-fest (I felt like V was significantly impressed with MacGyver), we were off to Grandma’s house.They were planning on hitting up SeaWorld with the Little Man, leaving me and the Big Man at loose ends.

We need a new coffee table. Our weenie wicker one just was not doing the job in our HUGE new house. We had things picked out to check out at American Signature furniture. We happened to drive past World Market. Well, it just happens that its one of my favorite shops. So we thought we’d stop in and check out their furniture.(Again, 1994 this is not)

Suddenly, mission accomplished. Coffee table spotted and purchased. With a discount as we purchased the floor model. Anyways, it is huge. HUGE. We borrowed the stores tape measure and went off to measure the trunk of my hatchback. Pretty much we had no idea what we were actually measuring. We were pressured by the sales staff to make sure it would fit as they said they would hate for us to buy it and then find out it didn’t fit. Like they really care. And like we care as well!

We were determined to make it fit.

It didn’t.

We tried harder.

It still didn’t.

Regardless, it was coming home with us. Precariously balanced in the back of my hatchback, I climbed in the back of the car, braced my legs and held onto that table with all of my strength. As I was getting situated in the back, a woman walking by said “Oh, I have so been there so many times!” and smiled.

I smiled back.

So have I.

And then I had a flashback to sometime in 1994 when an ungodly amount of girls climbed into my friend R’s little red car. I think it was a Hyundai. Or a Rabbit. Regardless, it fit 8 that day, several of us were in the trunk and that car was a low rider.

Not sure where we were going, but damn we had fun getting there.

Oh 1994, how I loved your fishnet stocking, plaid flannel shirt/jacket wearing, hand-painted combat boots stomping, always angry, black lipstick (1 week only) clad, Pearl Jam thrashing ways.

As I clung to that table, laughing and smiling while M drove down the expressway and that cool Autumn air blew in the back of my little red car, I was suddenly transported back to the Island. High School. My lady R. Oh friend, I miss those silly times.

Clutching that table, suddenly that simple little table shopping trip turned into so much more. A High School mini-flashback. A 10 year deduction from my birthday (leaving me in my 20’s). A big ol’ smile. Some slightly cold fingertips. A trunk filled with dried leaves. And one cheap blanket from Ross that only cost $5 was it was sold bundled up in packing tape that took me about 15 minutes to removed.

Trunk packing. Didn’t care.

Autumn and Fall,  you are the same but slightly different and I love you both…

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