Category Archives: baby

Big time

walking-blog

We moved across town.

It was a typical move. The movers were late… although when I called them to ask when they were arriving, apparently it was in ‘the window’, which meant that, in fact, they were not late. Rather, they were on time. That’s OK. I had only been awake since 5 am, so anyone would have been late compared to me.

The moving part went smoothly.

The cable guy was 3 1/2 hours late. He arrived (after numerous phone calls on my part as to his arrival time) just after we sat down for Chinese food around 8 pm. His ‘window’ was 2pm to 4pm. Bastard.

He ruined these satisfying thoughts of BrightHouse being bastards by being the nicest man ever. And funniest. And most efficient. And then made random slightly off-colour jokes about himself being a nice bit of ‘chocolate’ that our dog wanted to nibble on…. I know, right? I was thinking ‘What the hell” too…. But it made me laugh.

And amidst all of this chaos, V decided that it was the perfect time to pick walking as a full-time career choice.

Way to make a great decision! His timing clearly comes from me.

So now Little Man is completely mobile.

Completely.

And man, is it the funniest thing ever. He walks all around with his hands up in the air like he is about to start ‘the wave’ or something. Most of this happens with a very serious face as well.

Very serious. Mostly sans shoes, mostly with Chewie following closely behind (dog-toy firmly clamped in mouth to prevent V from grabbing). I think he noticed that he was taller while walking. Now, he likes to walk over to tables and reach for what is on top, drag it off and then walk all over it. He sure can show that mail-keys-handbag-etc who’s boss!

This evening V and I took the dog for a walk.

We both put on our shoes. Some with a little more help than others.

Off we went, poop-bag in hand(s).

We went down the front steps, then up them, down, up, down, up, down, up and finally down. Then V was picked up and forcibly removed from the vicinity of the stairs.

We walked together (v in his little Transformer shoes, me in my flip-flops) down to the corner and across the street. And then about half-way down that street. This journey took about 20 minutes. I laughed a lot.

On the way back we stopped more times then we did on the way there. Stopped to check out the cement on the road. Stopped to see the plants on everyone’s front porch. Stopped to hit some plants with our hands. Stopped to hit some flowers with our hands. Giggled while hitting them. Hit them with such enthusiasm and giggled so much that people turned and looked at us. I affected an air of nonchalance. This is the best ‘air’ ever to effect when one is walking around with a child and talking out loud.

Usually I throw my ‘nonchalance’ cloak on every time I step out in public with V. It is quite an effective coverage…

Anyways, we went 1 block (and back). We investigated a lot. We waved our hands up in the air. A few little yellow petals bit the dust with our overenthusiastic over-handling. Shrieks of happiness echoed up and down our new street.

Walking, apparently, has hit the big time over here.

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No

scold-blog

Last week I watched V stand in the living room, shake his hand at the dog and shout (actually shout!) “Da! Daaaaaa! DAAAAA!!!” at him. The first time it was funny, as was the second time actually. Quite funny too. The third time he did it, I realized it was a little familiar.

Familiar as in it was something I did all the time.

“Chewie. No. CHEWIE!. NO!” I shout. All the time. And then, when that doesn’t work, I say in my most calm of voices “Chewie. No, buddy. GET. DOWN” (Please visualize¬† him frantically barking and jumping back and forth on top of my arm-chair near the window, freaking out at everyone and their dog (literally) who walks by. Or walks near. Or near-ish.

Pain. In. My. Ass.

Apparently I shout at him a lot. AND shake my finger, just like V was showing me. I do it often enough that V is now an expert at it as well. And I am not sure that I like the image that is being displayed.

So that made me think about things. About how much we pick up from our parents, what kind of lessons we learn as children that shape our world today. It really made me examine my own actions… and then look at my personality and see if I could see my parents actions reflected in that.

It was very insightful. I saw interesting reflections of both parents in my temperament and actions. I’ll just keep those thoughts to myself for now.

How much of this is genetic and how much of it is learned actions? I swear I feel some of my beloved Gran in me, especially these last few weeks when I am rather a lot ‘flighty’. More so than usual. Yikes! There might be more Gran in me than I thought! Not that that is a bad thing. I just wish it was accompanied with a bigger chest and more glamour. Like Gran.

I digress…

Oh, how I am like my mother. Might as well just have cloned her. And then made me. But added more sarcasm, made her slightly more high-maintenance (here, M would chime in with ‘a lot’) and added about 40% of Father Gilbert. And then you have me.

Higher on the maintenance level than I would like to think I am (I think I am pretty low… M disagrees A LOT), cleanliness obsessed, no patience for crap, bullsh*t or any of that crap, hard to know. Mostly because am not interested in knowing you that much. Unless you show interest in knowing me. Then I am interested. And that is because of the shyness and poor self-confidence issues.

Oh internet, how you bear and handle my confidences…. You are like the ultimate secret diary.

V is on the path to becoming an interesting combination of M and I.

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Confidence

confidence-blog

We are in crunch mode this week.

Moving into our new house in approx 5 days and 6 hours…. give or take. Things are feeling a little hectic and surreal over here on this side of town.

Yesterday our new appliances were delivered, turning our gaping hole of a kitchen into a sleek, awesome room of efficiency, filtered water and cool poses at the automatic ice-maker (in-door of course). Installation of our new washer and dryer turned empty upstairs cupboard with slightly dirty floor into cupboard of high-tech cleaning devices clearly made on another planet. Some kind of crazy Dr Who-like planet. With Darleks.

It transformed our house. It is freaking me out. I can’t stop freaking out.

On the freak out horizon is V’s latest efforts to walk . He is trying so hard. He will take the odd few steps by himself, but clearly is more comfortable on the floor crawling like a mad man. We are currently encouraging him to walk at every opportunity. And he welcomes it. He will happily cling to your finger and walk like a seasoned pro. Let go of that finger though…? And he will topple right over.

He is just not that confident yet on his feet.

How confident is he opening doors? He is the King of Confidence-town.

Yesterday we walked upstairs, went into Mummy and Daddy’s new bedroom and shut the door. Mummy wanted to take a good look at the bathroom off the master suite. She put V down and walked 2 steps away from him and turned her back for 15 seconds.

In that 15 seconds, V crawled over to the door, opened it and made it half way down the stairs by himself.

Mummy just about had a heart attack. Holy crap.

Must lock all doors. For Ever.

We went from a handle to a knob on both the front door and back because of this. Then we installed baby gates. Oh the blood and sweat of Pop-Pop that went into the installation (and keeping V away from the installation). Thank god though… now all we have to worry about is the taps on the tub.

The taps that he can apparently also turn on. I have these awful images of him closing the bathroom door and turning on the taps and falling in.

Now is the time in my life where I become MOTHER. The super all-seeing, all-observing and all-knowing mother that can hear a tap turned on 3 miles away. Or a door opened and closed. Or a window opened. Or anything.

No sleep for me ever again…

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Tell me

Why-blog

Friday saw Little Man and I at the Doctor’s office for his 15 month check. 28 1/4 lbs. 31 1/2 inches….Big boy.

And fungal rash on the ‘extremities’. And we officially need an epi-pen for his peanut allergy. And have been instructed to carry Benadryl as a ‘just in case’ measure.

So just another day over here….

Of course we had our regular round of shots as well. I am a pro-shot mama. Unlike my lovely Canadian sisters, I have never had the luxury of 1 year of maternity leave and have needed full-time daycare since he was 10 weeks old. Hence the pro-shot life-style… Low grade fever last night and a full on crank-funk since Friday. Comes with the territory ūüôā Yay!

And that has been combined with a lovely new experience. An experience that I am hoping that is a new faze?! And I am hoping that mums out there will share and shed some light on this.

V is currently embroiled in this faze of “Mummy, I don’t like this food… I think I will shake my head ‘no’ and then spit it out”.

And that is all he has been doing since Friday. Putting things in his mouth, shaking his head no and either spitting it out or removing it with his hands. And then giving it to the dog. The dog has been so well fed for the last few days. Lucky dog!

The first day that this happened, I attributed it to the shots. Immunizations always come with a wee side-effect…low grade fever, irritableness , cranky pants, fuss faces….etc…

But this is the first time that super non-eating has been involved. Which makes me wonder if it is just age related instead.

In spite of all of the yummy things I have made him:

*Gluten-free turkey and cheese melty sandwiches

*Wheat-free raspberry pancakes

*Veggie patties with sauteed zucchini, mushrooms and fresh cherry tomatoes

*Fresh mozzarella cheese, cucumber and a assortment of fresh veggies

Everything enters the mouth and then exits it at a fast pace. Mostly on the floor, mostly eaten by the dog and mostly accompanied by head shaking…

The last 3 days have been mostly ‘sippy cup’ days. This is frustrating. Please God, let this be a ‘stage.’

Is it a stage at 15 months? The ‘non-eating’, I hate everything, back-bending screaming if you try to feed me anything stage?

Really? Please? Tell me….

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Walk Hard

first steps-blog

Today was a good day.

Not only did I not forget my child anywhere, I also squeaked in a 5k (on the treadmill… don’t get too excited), went to Ikea, ate Swedish meatballs and liked them, drank Sangria, went swimming, met my sister-in-law’s new boyfriend, ate a yummy burger and painlessly put V to bed with a minimum of fuss.

It was a full and beautiful day.

V took a few unassisted steps. We pretended to not look. If we look and acknowledge those little triumphs, he stops doing it immediately and starts crawling. For real.

It is rather funny actually.

He crawls like a mother f’er. Super fast. This is probably why he isn’t walking. He thinks (probably) that he can’t go as fast and that might be true. He is one fast baby.

He travels along furniture and transfers from one thing to another with such finesse that you wonder why he isn’t walking yet. He pushes his little walker around, bangs it into walls, picks it up and moves it until he has a clear path and then off he goes again. How is he not walking again? ‘Cause he looks like he can. And people are quick to ask me this repeatedly. And then look amazed when I say no.

Well, he is, but only when holding onto one or more of your fingers or hands. He just won’t otherwise.

He will stand occasionally, usually when he is occupied by something else. Potato chip. Milk. Chewie. Sesame Street. Food. Food. Food. Random Tupperware. Dog treats. Remote controls to anything. Etc etc.

I feel like I look ridiculous when I am carrying him. He looks like a 3 year old. Or a young adult. He is a big boy. And its not that I don’t love carrying him everywhere (my incredibly huge muscles on my right arm [the arm I favor when I carry him]will attest to that), but sometimes I would love to put him down and not have his legs collapse immediately upon touching the ground.

I know noodle-legs are part of the whole territory of childhood. Believe me, I know. I have first hand experience at noodle-legs. As well, I am an experienced handler of the dreaded back-arch, that arch that appears as it is time to be seated anywhere… including, but not limited to car-seats, high chairs, Mummy’s lap, Daddy’s arms, the crib…

I digress…

It sure would be nice to put those chubby little feet on the floor and have those legs stay¬† firm and locked. That little hand clasped in mine as we toddle along. I have one of those images in my mind of¬† V and I, on a beach, walking hand in hand with the sunset in the background. Wait… maybe I mean me and M. ‘Cause that kind of sounds like a date…

Anyways, I am idealizing those independent steps that he is on the verge of taking…

Are we prepared for what will happen once he does? Probably not. But I bet it will be interesting…

xoxo a.m.

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Pee

IMG_6696

Unflattering picture of me covered in pee. Thanks Mike!!

Just a quickie about a lovely incident that happened this weekend.

A post gym incident. One that might involve baby bodily fluid(s).

Home from the gym, I puttered around for a little while. V was down for a nap, always the best time to get things done, right? To get a lot of things done. As maybe things as possible, in fact. So still in my gym clothes, I manic-cleaned and organized things. And then sat down for 2 minutes.

Right on cue, V began wailing, as he often does on waking up from his nap. Sometimes it is just heart-wrenching to hear. Why is he so upset? No idea. But he is. Very. About 75% of the time post-nap. I opened his bedroom door to find him sitting in the middle of his crib eyes shut, crying, tears everywhere.

I scooped him up, cuddled and made some shooshing noises and off we went to the kitchen to get a bottle. The crying did not stop, however.

If anything it got progressively loudly. Now this was unusual.

Bottle was pushed away with extra force and the motion was punctuated by a louder (if possible) and more upset sounding wail.

Oh my.

And unfortunately this sort of thing kind of makes me laugh, so laughing a bit, we head over to an armchair with bottle held hidden behind back. Perhaps we need more of a cosy cuddle, I think. And settle down with him by the living-room window, in the armchair. His little legs are tucked around my waist (on either side) and his arms are hugging me. We are face to face, torso to torso and he is still crying.

A lot of back patting and rubbing commences, as does sweet shushing and some discussions about how maybe we might want some bottle now? (the answer was no, by the way… quite firmly too).

I love holding him like this, even if he is crying, so despite that I am enjoying myself immensely.

And then I feel something. Something warm. I takes me a minute to realize what it is.

While the answer may be clear to some of you (knowing my child and his escapades), it wasn’t to me immediately. Reason being that for about 5 seconds there, I swear I was peeing on my own armchair. Really.

Actually, what was happening is that with the position that V and I were in, he was peeing on me, but it was aimed pretty much right where I would be doing the same thing. He was peeing on me where I pee. Which made it feel like I was peeing.

WHICH I WAS NOT.

And then he stopped crying.

Oh, and he was wearing a diaper. A diaper put on by his father. Might as well have been naked.

Up I got. Slowly. I was trying to not let pee drip everywhere. Yelling for M the whole time. While I pidgeon-toed walked to V’s bedroom with him clutched in my arms and ‘not my own pee’ dripping down my thighs, M cleaned the chair and then ran after me with the camera taking pictures of the 2 of us and laughing uncontrollably.

Bastard.

I hope sometimes that I am not the only one having this bodily fluid experiences. Please? And also, I hope that someone else also has a ridiculous husband like mine. I can’t possibly be the only one…

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Stink

peg-blog

I am thinking that I might rename my blog “Things my husband and child do to me”. I know that is all I blather on about. Is it entertaining for you? Yikes! I hope so! It is for me…

Since we are currently pending finalization on our new house, I don’t have much to say. I am not going to yoga. We are trying to not eat out. I am not shopping for everything. Unless it’s V-related and then it’s no holds barred. I can shop forever for him but can I buy myself a shirt? No.

I literally feel the need to shower him with everything (kisses, hugs, new clothes, books, hugs, more kisses, snuggles [even though he does not snuggle, never has unless he’s sick and sometimes pushes me away when I try] tasty healthy treats, rattly things and on and on). I sometimes feel guilty about spending money on myself.

So really nothing is going on over here. No exciting things, just regular life things. Just a lot of waiting. And the waiting is hard. Especially for me, as waiting and I are not the best of friends.

Things my child did to me today:

It is so cute, I don’t even mind that much. I am teaching him to brush his teeth. He get very excited about this nightly event and I let him hold the toothbrush all by himself. We’ve been working on ‘brushing’ motions for a while and have managed a regular, somewhat jerky motion. If I try and help him (oh, he has to hold the brush by himself), he yanks the brush out of my hand and grunts in an annoyed manner. So, unassisted brushing it is with a light dash of arm-waving.

The fun part comes about 15 seconds into the brushing. V has not learned the exciting technique of swallowing while brushing. Of course he hasn’t! He’s 14 1/2 months!! So it all just drips right out…. Elmo baby toothpaste and spit dripping onto my arm. I am so into the whole night-time brushing thing that I don’t even notice until we are rinsing his little hands. I. Am. Covered. In.¬† Drool. Oh, and baby toothpaste… It just rubs right in though… no worries. Can’t even notice it was there…

As for that husband of mine?! I swear to god if I find another dirty stray sock lying around the house, I will remove all socks from this premises… No joke.

Where ever it is he leaves them, our Chihuahua finds them, drags them out and romps joyously around the house with them. Chews them with such ardor that he might as well marry that sock. And if he married all of the socks that he loves on, M would be sock-less. Forever.

He often brings them over to my lap to share them with me. Ick. ICK! M! I hate your socks!!

But I still love you…

For things that stink (like M’s socks), click here

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Toilet

toilet-blog

Pretty much what my afternoon looked like, just with pants on instead...

Things I did this afternoon:

Wrestled my 14 month old son away from the toilet.

Really.

He just ‘discovered’ it this afternoon and learned how to lift the lid. This was cute the first time. Then, as he lifted and dropped it repeatedly, it suddenly was not entertaining.

And then, as I looked over at him and saw that he had a whole arm down the toilet (I swear I looked away for about 1/2 a second), it was at the lowest level on non-entertaining. Right at the very bottom level.

So as I rush over to the toilet and drag that little arm out of it (and then soap that arm up, scrub it to an inch of it’s life and dry it on a super clean towel), I thought things like “M! Where are you!!” and “Must shut all bathroom doors from now on”.

As I dragged him (metaphorically speaking) out of the bathroom, he threw a full-on fit.

Kicking, screaming, wailing, back-arching etc. I could hardly believe that this huge of a fuss was being throw over the toilet. The toilet!! I mean really!!

But regardless, it was a huge fit.

As I was carrying him away from the toilet (laughing), I wondered what would be the next step in this little impish boy’s life. Approximately 3 hours later I learned that it would be actual steps…

V took his first unsupported steps this evening. At first from the middle of our walk-in closet to Daddy (as that was where they were playing). He did that a couple of times while M and I stared in disbelief.

Then, once I got in the closet with him, M encouraged him to walk towards me. He took 4 steps to me, before falling into my arms… Did I win the lottery? I just might have….

The lottery of love, that is…. it was all rather overwhelming…

M and I just looked at each other… our days are numbered…

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Shower

Me, earlier during my epic Monday shower....

Me, earlier during my epic Monday shower....

Its been a while since I posted about poop.

Happily , our household has been free of poop-related incidences. For a while there they were happening a little too frequently for my taste.

Don’t fret my dears…. I am here with a brand-new one for your reading pleasure!!

Mondays can be long days. This Monday felt extra long. Hectic work, plus M’s teacher ‘back-to-school’ week, plus a sudden disappearance of our regular daycare resulting in Pop-Pop and V spending a lot of time together. PLUS an earlier rising time, minus my glorious 8 weeks of sleeping in until 6:30 (practically unheard of!). Plus the fact that it is Monday.

This resulted in me feeling like I forgot to have a shower by the end of the day. Isn’t that just the worst feeling ever? The humidity doesn’t help either. So as I am driving the Expressway home I am contemplating a dilemma…shower or Gym, shower or Gym, steamy long hot shower with coconut body wash and clean hair or Gym.

The shower won. It was delicious…. out I came, clean hair, body delicately scented like coconut and so so so very clean.

That shower put me in the best mood. M and V came home from picking up dinner stuff and Little Man was scooped up into my arms, snuggled within an inch of his life and then fed some yummy dinner. Tonight’s meal: Oven Gold Boars Head turkey, Organic cheddar cheese, sauteed zucchini and mushrooms and sweet potato french fries. Fresh watermelon for dessert.

Post dinner, off we headed to the bedroom for a strip-down and a plunk in the tub. Who knew that my leisurely evening was about to come to an end!

I played games with V as I stripped him down to his diaper on the changing table. An aroma arose from the groinal region that immediately exited the room and headed for the kitchen to assault M’s nostrils. “Jame!! What’s that smell?!?! It’s awful!!” he shouted from the other room.

“M! V’s got a present for you!! But you have to come in here to get it!” I shouted back…. he did not fall for that old trick… neither would I.

I opened that diaper and encountered the foulest thing ever seen in a  diaper in the history of Mankind. Also the foulest smelling thing. Foul.

Not to V though!! He shrieked with delight and happily stuffed both hands down that diaper and went straight for the bits. Which were covered. That’s how awful this diaper was. It was a full-on “Strap your child to the changing table and use both hands” kind of clean up.

Oh. My. God. His hands were covered in poo and he was laughing hysterically. He was having the best time ever!! I, on the other hand, was freaking out. And screaming things like “NANANANANANANA! V!!!!!! Nonononono! Oh my god, oh god…. oh holy god….etc etc”.

M, was happily (pretend) oblivious in the kitchen. He states he heard nothing. Bastard.

Anyways, off we went at arms length to the tub. The one time I didn’t want to cradle that little bum while I walk him naked as a jaybird (him, not me) over to the tub and dunk him in. I did not want to touch that part of his body.

What follows was fastest bath in the history of the human race. It might have even been faster than the previous fastest bath (that one that followed the infamous ‘poop in tub’ incident).

Bedtime followed at an even faster pace!

xoxo a.m.

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Applebee’s

dinner2-blog

M and I were brave this evening and decided to take wee V out for dinner with us. We didn’t want to hit up anything fancy so we ended up at Applebee’s across the street. For my lovely Canadians, Applebee’s is like going to Earl’s. But with Rock n’ Roll paraphernalia instead of parrots.

It’s cheap. Crowded. Full of families.

In short, the perfect place to practise on. After we’ve master this place, we can move on to fancier places… Like, um, Chili’s…

So this was this evenings conversation…

“What would you like this evening?”

“I’ll have the Shrimp Fiesta sala–nanananananananana….Vincent. Nananana. No. Salad, please… And a glass of wine.”

“I’ll have the Roasted Red Pepper Chicken Penn-nanananananana. Vincent. Nananana. Put that down. Penne pasta. And a Caesar salad on the side. And some french fries. And a beer.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks”

*please hurry*

5 minutes of thumping, clapping and hitting ourselves on the head commenced (V’s new favorite motion of choice).

Drinks arrived. It was 2 for 1 night (and apparently is every night of the week. I slurped back a glass of wine. M slurped back a beer) Clapping resumed.

Food arrived…(in between the clapping and food, there was little to no conversation). Conversation started but was cut short like this: ‘How was your da-dadadadadada day? Wheres Dada?! There he is!!! Yayayayayayayay!!!” *clap clap clap* etc

French fries arrived on a plate that was delivered directly to V. How thoughtful of the young waitress to deliver a plate of piping hot fries fresh out of the oil to a 1 year old. Thank you. Lets now listen to him scream while I remove them from his reach and cool them down. M, please distract him with a rattly Zebra or something….

Fries cooled down, eating began. And M and I ate quickly.

V ate so many french fries that I thought I would seriously regret this meal tomorrow. I still do. I am so going to rock-paper-scissors M tomorrow morning for the diaper change *Junken!!*

The rest of the meal consisted of clapping. Cheering. Hitting ourselves on our heads. Saying “What’s that?!” a million times. Really it sounds like ‘Izzat!” but that is what it means. Picking up toys. Picking up more toys. Apologizing to that couple that got a toy thrown at them (sort of). More hitting. Some random Pterodactyl noises (think¬† loud shrieks). French fries gently sprinkled on the floor like someone planting grass…. etc etc.

And then we went home. It was 7:30. V went right to bed. All of that restaurant excitement clearly tired him out…. he went right to sleep.

I love my child. Sometimes I really love it when he sleeps. Tonight is one of those nights…

xoxo a.m.

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