Bits

How do you name a penis?

Tricky question, eh?

Thursday night, as we started our bath-time washing procedure, we encountered ‘the area’ a few minutes in. Boy Territory is something I tread a little gingerly, as I am not that familiar with it. Apart from the obvious familiarity of being married to a man.

I am teaching V to scrub-a-dub himself and so I shout out random (boy) parts while I foam-pump soap into his palms and watch with delight while he hurries to find and cover them with suds (I am assuming that something is being cleaned just with soap touching it).

So of course we hit the usual…

Arms!

Fingers!

Toes!

Tummy!

And then I shout things like “Scrub scrub scrub!” And “Wash wash wash!”

And at some point those hands wandered down ‘There’ and a damp face makes a mischevious little grin at me.

And then? I shouted “Wash your….. weewee!!”

What WHAT?

It’s OK. I feel your shock. I was in a pinch and that’s what came out. And as soon as it left my mouth, I turned red. Even though there was no-one else around to see or hear what I just said, apart from Vince…. who was currently clutching those ‘bits’ and saying “Weeeeeee we. WeeeWeeeeeee! WeWe!”

Crap.

What did I just create.

And crap. What do you call those bits?!

I mean, I call them ‘bits’. To the general public that is. Not that it’s something that I am generally announcing to people. But when I am, that’s how I announce them.

Edward?! Where are you?! I need you for these situations! So get off your Fantasy football calculator thingy and come upstairs and clean your son’s penis!

… is what I would like to shout, but don’t. I just hold it all in. Like the proud British-Canadian that I am…

Well, tonight we had tub-time again. And Edward was in Philly and therefore was not around for assistance. But no matter, V got there before I could and started scrubbing away at various parts to much applauding, finally getting to the ‘bits and then looking up at me before he did anything.

Vince!! Wash your ‘peepee’!”

Ok, at least this was slightly better than ‘weewee’. Geez.

I really have no idea where to go with this one. I am thinking I might just stick to ‘bits’ and that suits my sensibilities just fine.

Any suggestions?

xoxo a.m.

Sharp

It’s Spring. Spring always makes me want to clean, something that I wish would affect my husband as well…

I think it must just be that lovely fresh air. There is just something about it that makes you want to rejuvenate your whole life. Starting with your house.  Mostly your bathroom.

And so that’s where I started yesterday. Well, I initially started in Home Depot, with a gift card, the Little man, a shopping cart, a desire to teach him how to say ‘Awesome!!!” and a complete and total lack of shame.

A baby makes people do your bidding. And climb ladders. And give you stickers.

$200 later, I emerged with several stickers, a can of ‘Blueberry patch’ paint for my bathroom, a new ceiling fan that was tres expensive and new window blinds for my bathroom.

And this is where the story gets good.

It involves me, V, 3 different sized screwdrivers, the top floor of my townhouse and my eagerness to get started on my rejuvenation project.

I was pretty sure that he would entertain himself with his toys while I fussed in the bathroom. And he did for a short period of time. And then got bored and climbed into the bathtub. Happily I was working right above him, I was attempting to removing the old crappy blinds.  This room contained the only crap blind remaining from the previous owners. The only crap blind they didn’t take.

I got stuck on a stripped screw (teehee~), I guess I just physically don’t have the strength to get that mother out of the wall. But I thought I did. And I certainly made quite an effort.

Such an effort, in fact, that my feet got sweaty and slipped on the porcelain tub, which made me hip-check the wall which, in turn, dislodged part of my towel rack…

Those hips of mine are so sharp that they popped a wall fixture right out of its socket.

There is now a hole in my wall.

This was a bit of a shock. I was looking to do some renovating, but not quite as soon as this. I am holding off on any home improvements until my father-in-law sets up camp on my second floor…

Watch out. I’ve got some sharp poppers.

Two

Did you know that M and I will have been married for 5 years next month? And also that V will be 2 years old in June.

To me, both of these things are rather exciting but, mostly, I am in shock.

Not so much about number 1 (that man is locked in forever)but definitely number 2. Number 2 is going to be 2! Although really he’s number 1. So number one is going to be 2… (my mind is giggling right now, it’s usually in the gutter anyways…).

Anyways, things have been changing over here in the last week or so. A sign of things to come? Of schedules to be disrupted?

It started off Sunday. My fault. Back from Spin class and feeling full of energy, I showered, shaved and felt alive. It was 3 pm and he was still sleeping. As far as I was concerned, that was too late to be sleeping and if he slept longer we would totally be f’d in the A.

So I woke him up. Sweetly, of course, and with many a gentle whisper and caress. Would you like to guess how all of my sweet efforts were greeted? With huge gulping, sobbing, wet, gasping cries. With big head-shakes at the mention of ‘Daddy’. And ever further head-shakes and wailing ‘Noooooo’ ‘s at the mention of Chewie the dog.

And the crying didn’t stop there. It continued for a good 15 minutes. And the day didn’t get any better from there. M just looked at me, gave me a total side-eye.

The rest of the day was just a huge, whiny, temper-tantrumy mess. So was the evening. So was dinner. And so was bath-time.

Bath-time was actually so bad it was kind of funny. Lowered into the lovely tub, all he did was wail from the time his feet touched the water. And then he tried to climb out. And then, when he couldn’t, he proceeded to wail and wail and wail like he was being scalded (which he wasn’t, for the record).

And bedtime that followed wasn’t much better. In fact, bedtime took place at 6:45, 8 pm, 10 pm, 11 pm and 1 am.

And Monday night wasn’t much better.

Tuesday was a slight improvement.

Happily Wednesday night was fine and so was Thursday.

So what the hell was all of that? In 3 months, he’ll be 2. Is it that? He’s getting quite opinionated. He will no longer ‘Moo’ on command. This disappoints me.

On the other had, he is developing a delicious sense of humour that is so infectious I just want to nibble on him. The giggles, the cheeky smiles, the mischievous looks and the endless “tic-el-tic-el-tic-el-tic-el” noises that he makes…

So if this is the terrible twos, I’ll take it.  Those grins make those weary nights worthwhile…

Hydrated

Superbowl is always a good time.

At half-time, my son put on quite the show. There was dancing, hand waving, some flailing and a few interesting moves involving ‘up and down’. A crowd of adults gathered around him, egging him on with some synchronized clapping and a few cheers.

After half-time, it was time for a quick bath at Gramma’s and a pj change. But for some reason, post half-time show, the bath was not a good idea. The getting naked part was though! V was so happy to strip down to his diaper. and also to just stare at the water filling the tub. And throw things into it. But actually get into the tub?

No. Way. In. Hell.

Every attempt I made to lower him into the water was met with his legs retracting and heading directly for my waist. ha! It was rather funny! I tried about 5 times and with each attempt, his shrieks got louder and louder until Grandparents ran into the bathroom with wide eyes, wondering what on earth was going on.

I settled for a bum-rinse. Good enough.

My Mum walked in while I was trying to diaper him while he was standing. Let’s just say I am not a pro. I am so not a pro that my Mother said “Hmmm, let’s just see how long that lasts”.

Well, it lasted pretty long. I was feeling a wee bit smug.

And then, around 1:30 am, he woke up crying. I think he was overtired from the party, the dancing and the nude streaking he did through the living-room.

I picked him up, snuggled him until he calmed down and cosied him up in his crib.

Walking back into our bedroom, I felt a little damp. I reached down to my stomach and pulled my damp tank top away from my skin. My fingers didn’t even understand what I was touching. I climbed into bed and snuggled up to the dog and the Big M.

My brain woke up about 2 minutes later and said “Jaime, that is urine.” I sat up in bed and pulled my top up to my nose and inhaled. Didn’t smell like pee. Didn’t smell like anything.

But I knew it was. And so, well, I got out of bed. Woke V back up. Changed him. Put him back to bed. Smelled my tank top again (Why?! Why!!!). Changed out of it. And then back to bed.

So. What is up with me smelling my pee-soaked top? And what is up with it smelling like nothing??

I must have an incredibly well-hydrated child.

Nugget

(of poop)

There they were, waiting for me on the changing table as I carried my squeaky clean V from the tub back to his bedroom…

*sigh*

Not only nuggets, but an open dirty diaper.

….flashback to a few hours earlier….

On my way home, I called M for a quick chat.

“How was your day?”, I asked as I gunned it down the expressway.

“Oh. It’s been better”, he replied in a wry tone.

“Oh?”

“I am in the middle of doing something horrible……”

Not picking up on the wry tone, my mind headed in the worst directions possible… mortgage payments, things to do with money, hot water tank leak, smoke detectors going off, awful things to do with the house…

“V gave me a present”.

This is parent code for ‘loaded up the pants’, ‘made a brownie’, ‘dropped the kids off at the pool’ or any number of other expressions (that I am sure your husband/brother/male member of the family will be happy to share with you, while they snicker that is…)

Oh men, so dramatic. You’d think it was the end of the world.

It must have been though, if I was to find remnants of it an hour later. Apparently it was epic. And there was screaming and thrashing involved during changing time. Good stuff.

….flash-forward to present….

I was sure. So sure. That life was not going to throw feces at me tonight. All signs pointed to a ‘dodge’, especially considering the previous conversation with M.

I picked that poop up, deposited it elsewhere and snuggled that Little Man within an inch of his poop-filled life….

Mumma loves the baby.

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.

Wet

Things to not do.

Do not, in your new motherhood-cockiness, undress your 13 month-old in his crib and let him play naked for a few minutes while the tub is filling.

It will lead to disaster, believe me.

I know you know where this is leading, so I won’t bore you with too many details.

V is always ecstatic to be naked. He likes to roll around his crib naked, lolling around on his back with his legs up in the air….. giggling the whole time. Inevitably those chubby little fingers find their way down to ‘the bits’. More giggling ensues… followed by a lot of stretching, pulling and tugging. And giggling

So I left him to his playing and giggling and went to go and check the tub. When I came back, he was standing up, one hand on the (gnawed within an inch of it’s life) crib rail and another clutched around his best friends. With a pleased and relaxed look on his face.

I had a sneaking suspicion as to what had happen. A suspicion that was quickly confirmed as my fingers encountered a warm puddle in the sheets.

*Sigh*

Never a dull moment over here!

M took V swiftly out of the crib and ran him over to the filled tub….. and as he ran, he turned and shouted over his shoulder “I can’t believe you thought that would be a good idea! Jame….. seriously. Changing table equals water-proof…”.

What was I thinking? I guess I was thinking that we hadn’t had any accidents yet, so I thought things were under control. Silly me.

I think at least one of these instances has to happen every week, otherwise M and I will grow too complacent. However, to be honest, they rarely seem to happen to him. Just me.

My life will be filled with pee and poop for the next several years. Eventually I will tire of posting….. not yet….but sometime soon.

It is still rather funny to me…

Shinchan

Post-work, my evening started with a really nice meal with my in-laws…. I felt so spoiled. My mother-in-law chopped yummy things up for V, dumped it on his high chair tray and the whole time I drank a glass of wine. Bliss. Spoiled bliss.

Home for a bath before bedtime….

Bath-time goes like this:

1) Deposit small child in crib (scream scream scream), go to bathroom across the hall and start bath

2) Make faces across the hall at little man while tub fills (V jumps endlessly and shrieks happily in crib)

3) Lay towel across toilet seat, strip V naked (watch him giggle and roll around in his crib as apparently naked is the best thing ever)

4) Carry naked baby to bathroom, play peek-a-boo in mirror, deposit baby in tub. Commence play-time.

Usually after 10 or 15 minutes, bath-time is over, we hit the towel and head back to the changing table for diaper, pj’s and story-time.

Tonight, tub-time was funnier than it usually is…. V only wanted to stand. I’ve gotten used to this, and deal with it. I would prefer him to sit nicely, but who are we kidding over here. He is just too active for sitting nicely. Please pray that M and I have a daughter that will sit and play. Nicely.

So standing in the tub, he reachs towards the washcloth that I have draped over the faucet-guard (that is a duck in a firefighters costume). He rips the cloth off, shrieks ‘Daa!!!’, which I think means ‘duck’ and throws the cloth in the tub. He stares down at it, picks it up (it is sopping wet now) and puts it back on the ducks head. Water goes everywhere….. Me, floor, dog, pants, hair, face…..everywhere…

He then rips the wash cloth back off and deposits it back in the tub (of course shrieking ‘Daa!’ while he is doing this). He looks at it again, quite intently this time, then (as he is my son) he pees on it. For a long time. Kind of a ‘I saved this up especially for the moment when you removed my diaper’ kind of thing.

THEN, he reaches down, grabs the cloth (which is sopping wet with pee and water) and flings it upward. Urine flies everywhere. Across my face, down my front, dripping over my lips. I realize that it was mixed with water, but I did just watch him pee on that cloth and then fling it into my face…. I must really love my son.

Now, granted this was no triple-poop morning ala my friend with her darling girl….. but… urine in the mouth. Maybe that trumps a triple-poop? Pee all over the face, in the mouth and down the front of my whole body. And V looking rather pleased with himself.

Of course he did! He is his fathers son after all….

Holy!

Guacamole!!

Note to self:

Never let your child feed himself avocado. This is what I did last night and at the end of the meal, I wondered what on earth I was thinking…

I am trying to encourage spoon feeding right now. Although most of the food that he is eating right now is pick-up-able, sometimes I throw in a few things that are of a spoon fed nature. Avocados, rice pudding (Cosy Shack) a few other things like that. He just doesn’t have the dexterity quite yet.

Most of the things that I feed him are things that I think are yummy too. As a result, he is a huge papaya fan. Papaya is pretty much my favorite fruit ever and it is perfect for babies/toddlers. I loved feeding him guava, mango and papaya puree when he was a wee wee thing. These are jarred fruits that you would never ever ever find in Canada.

So, if I like it, I think that he should…. seems logical. And for the most part I am right. Avocado took a while. The first few times, it reached a level of hatred that fruit/veg has rarely reached. Suddenly though, there was an abrupt turn around. As long as its mashed, in a guacamole-like state, then it is all good.

Guacamole involves me feeding it to him. Which involves perhaps 2 bites that he allows me to feed him, him then grabbing the spoon, me grabbing another spoon and then us fighting over whose spoon goes in his mouth. So as I am trying to encourage independence and learning, I try to encourage him to experiment with his spoon.

Mostly this involves him waving it around, bits of food flying everywhere (and Chewie in ecstatic delight, dashing around in circles, looping through the highchair legs trying to catch all those airborne things).

Last night it involved a bowl with a suction-cup on the base of it that I attached to his highchair tray. And a spoon. And a bib. And me regretting that I let him eat dinner in a white tee-shirt. About 3 minutes later avocado was everywhere. all under his bib. All over his bib. All over his face, up his nose, on the back of his ears and what wasn’t in these places was firmly stuffed both behind and into the buckle of the straps on his highchair.

I had to carry him at arms length to the bathtub, avocado and corn dripping off of him (and the dog following closely behind).

That tub-scrub was heavy-duty. And the water was greenish at the end of that scrub….

This will probably not be a self-feeding even for a while, my kitchen needs time to recover! (for really interesting ideas for baby meals, please check out this neat site!)

xoxo a.m.