Category Archives: biohazard

Socks

My living room times a million

Finger up nose.

Pants around ankles.

Toothbrush in eyeball.

Socks on floor.

I think this sums up the week nicely.

1) Finger constantly up nose. Not my finger. And not my nose. All day. Every day.

2) V is currently 17 months. I refuse to buy him any pants small than 2t or 24 months. There is just no point. So last weekend I bought him some jeans, Levi carpenter pants (adorable). They only stay on if he is wearing shoes. Shoes seem to block those pants quick descent to the floor. I have to roll the cuffs up and that helps prop the jeans up on top of his sneakers. Nice.

3) In my efforts to promote good hygiene to my toddler, I’ve been gently promoting the toothbrush. Mostly as something just to hold and put in the mouth. Some brushing movements are made and I figure it’s a start.

Tonight, in his thorough excitement about his new toothbrush, he punched me in the eye with it. It hurt. I hope there is no bruising… Holy mother does than boy have an arm on him!

4) I might lose my mind about these damn socks. Can someone (besides me) pick them up?! All. Over. My. House.

Before V, there were M socks everywhere. Drove me nuts. Post-double shift socks were scattered everywhere. The dog finds them delicious. Still does. And V has inherited this from his father. Socks come off the instant they are put on. In the car. In the house. In the yard. On the sidewalk. Mid-poop. Mid-poop clean-up.

Poop-socks? Good times.

Click here to learn some valuable tips about socks… and how to wear them. Properly.

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Suck it up, Mummy

suck_it_up-blog

How did November suck so fast?

I had high hopes for it. REALLY high ones, especially considering that October was the month of the plague in our little family. I was really over it all. Sick husband. Sick little boy. Projectile vomiting. High fevers. Lethargy. Do I need to go on? Are you getting the picture? Just skip back a few posts and you will be able to read all about it.

So as I got home today, my father-in-law was outside with V playing. I parked, scooped up that little Man and got the down low on how V had behaved for Pop-Pop and if anything was going on in daycare that I needed to know about.

Last week there was a confirmed case of Hand Foot and Mouth disease. They sent home a handy little info sheet, all about the disease and some ways of combating it. There is no cure. It is just a virus that runs its course and is also fairly common in care facilities with small children. Everything goes into the mouth and everything comes out of the mouth and goes onto everything else.

I was pleased that they had let us know, but thought nothing further about it. My son couldn’t possibly get something like that. Only dirty people do (that thought might have been lurking somewhere in the back of my mind…. it didn’t surface…just saying it was there…).

I clearly must have pissed someone off with that deeply hidden thought as not only is it Monday, but V has a blister inside his bottom lip. And a bit of a rash on his bum. That rash could be anything though. But Day-Care seems pretty sure that is what it is. You know, with all of their medical licenses and stuff.

I’ll be making my weekly call to the pediatrician tomorrow morning.

Read all about what we are going through HERE

I will be trying to suck it up while you are doing that…. (I am a big girl. I can handle this…again…still….forever…)

xoxo a.m.

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Nugget

poop-blog

(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.

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Fever times 2

sick-blog

16 months in and my first experience with a really, really sick little boy started yesterday…

All in all, not too shabby. All we’ve had to deal with prior has been food allergies, allergic reactions, mild asthma and lots of poop. Ok, looking at that list, let me revise that¬† ‘all we’ve had to deal with’ comment, that kind of made it sound like parenthood has been a cake-walk over here.

Really what I mean is that this is my first experience with scary high temperatures, scary lethargy and projectile vomit (Exorcist-style).

V woke up yesterday a wee bit warm. Babies are warm in the morning, so I didn’t think too much of it. He ate all of his breakfast, drank his bottle and just was a little quiet. I took his temp, it was 99 degrees…a little ‘ping’ of concern hit me, but again, he’s been warm like this before so I figured that it would go away once he was more active…

I WAS going to make Canadian Thanksgiving dinner Sunday for all my peeps in Orlando. We were also supposed to be going to see Elmo at UCF Arena in the afternoon. So we had things to do and so off we went to do them. Whole Foods (that I might leave M for and marry in a legal, binding ceremony) and Ikea. Done and done.

On our way there and back, he dozed the whole time. That ‘ping’ of concern started to ping a little louder. As I unbuckled him from his car seat and picked him up, he was really really warm. So warm, in fact, that when I handed him to M once entering the house, he immediately said to me “Wow, hes really hot, you aren’t going to Elmo, are you?”, to which I replied “No. Not at all” (although secretly I really wanted to).

I gave him some infants Tylenol and took his temperature.

103.2

What. The. Fuck. (Pardon my dirty mouth, but seriously, what the fuck!)

That is one high mothering-fucking temperature! So high that I remember using temperatures like that as bragging tools when I was in Elementary School to illustrate how sick I had been. “Ya? Well, my temperature was 103.4 and my Mummy said I might die. DIE!!” (I tend towards the dramatic). I tried not to remember that as I calmly said to M “We are going to the walk-in clinic”.

He calmly replied “OK, I think that’s a good idea”.

In reality both of us had cartoon steam-whistles on our head and steam was shooting from our ears. And my body might have become an ambulance. At least that’s what I told myself as I did 75- 1.000.000¬† (miles per hour, folks) down the expressway to the Pediatric clinic.

An hour later, I emerged with V and my awesome in-laws. Who are awesome and met me there, at the clinic (M called them) and stayed with me the whole time. Again. Awesome.

Influenza type A. And an ear infection. Antibiotics and Tamaflu (which makes me think of Tama-chan, that seal that swam into the Tokyo Harbour and became a national icon [I have a Tama-chan doll somewhere]).

The rest of my evening was not awesome. I went and got the meds filled, drove home, medicated V up. He remained hot. In-laws returned with food (M was at work). The rest of the evening was a blur of trying to force food and fluids on Little Man. Mostly fluids.

He cried non-stop and was so hot I swear I could have cooked something on his forehead. At about 9 pm he projectile vomited all over the place and as I went to pick him up, he threw up down the front of my tank-top. Wonderful. Hot and shivering at the same time, I stripped him down and washed him down in the tub… the rest of the evening was a blur.

We finally got him settled down with some fluids in him and he went right to sleep. Poor baby was so exhausted.

I went to bed too. Poor me, so exhausted….

Actually, I went to bed on the floor of V’s room. He made so many little noises and I woke up and trekked into his room with every one that finally I made a make-shift bed from a duvet and the pad on an Ikea chair and slept with my hand on the edge of his mattress.

Fever all night long. It finally seemed to break around 2 am… and we both slept.

And did I mention that M came home from work with the stomach flu?

Our home is a bubonic plague zone right now. DO NOT COME OVER.

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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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Sunday

toobusy-blog

Another Sunday night poop story….. I know that you are very excited. I can feel it.

Poop is a ‘regular’ event over here. A fantastical event at least once a week that usually leads to extra cleaning on my part……

Today started with M offering to change a dirty diaper. What you say?? What kind of crazy thing is this?? What kind of parallel world are we living in? Men offering to change diapers without being provoked? Lord only knows what this is about, but I happily accept any and all offers…

So offer accepted, off they went to the changing table to sort things out.

We have to give V something to occupy himself while he is getting changed. Otherwise, he will flip himself over onto his tummy and smear poo everywhere. This we know from lots of experience… LOTS of experience.

Daddy handed V a book to look at while he unstrapped that nasty diaper.

Oh, that poor poor book….

That book was grabbed with such enthusiasm, waved all around and then suddenly (and without any warning) was abruptly shoved down the front of his diaper (suddenly and abruptly, in case you didn’t get that) A diaper that was quite well filled.

A surprised loud laugh is what brought me into the room. M turned to me, laughing, and handed me a book.

The book.

The book that was covered in poop.

‘Oh, thank you! My favorite thing!”

A book that I chose to not clean and, instead, deposit in the garbage.

The West Coast in me screaming out that I could have salvaged it instead of throwing it out. But, lets face it, it was not salvageable. There is no way that I would have been able to clean that book up and look at it other than the book that V poop-smeared.

I am sure that the smell would have clung. Or I would have imagined the smell clinging to it. And my fingers as I was holding it. And to V’s hands and face, as that’s where books usually go. I do not want to be the poop family. Really.

And so, it was hand-carried (finger-tips only) to the garbage and dutifully deposited into our trash.

Sorry book. I can no-longer accept you in our household once you have been smeared. Your memory as one of V’s first books will live on in our minds…..

You will forever be remembered as “The book covered in poop”. We will never forget you…. and neither will V’s future girlfriends…

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Discovery

discovery-blog

Things V can do:

If you ask him to clap his hands, he will happily oblige.

Shake his head no.

Point his pointer finger at airplanes.

Say “Daa-do!” excitedly when he sees the dog.

He used to just say “Uh!”, the first part of ‘uh-oh’, but has since progressed ahead to the complete phrase, which he say repeatedly to our great excitement.

This evening while I was at the In-laws picking him up, we were getting ready to leave when we all started to say goodbye. “Bye, bye Vincent! Bye-bye!” and to our great delight he said “Bye-bye!” right back at me. And just to make sure that it wasn’t just some random baby-babble (which I equally enjoy), we asked him again.

“Bye-bye Vincent!”

“Bye-bye!”

You wouldn’t have believed the amount of smiling and clapping that went on afterwards. We were all lit up with the biggest grins.

As the Summer of Dad begins to wind down, I can’t even believe how much V has changed in the last few months. I say months, but really I think its been about 6 weeks or so. I am good at exaggerating. M can tell you that for sure.

It seems like he has turned into a opinionated person in the last few weeks. There is a lot of head shaking, shrieking and throwing of things happening over in this apartment.

Oh good lord I wouldn’t have it any other way though. Sometimes I try to imagine what life would be like without him…. and I can’t. Well, I can, but it seems such a dull and colourless existence that it is a complete waste of time for my imagination. Why even bother attempting? Might as well just enjoy the moment(s) and path that my life is on…. every second of every day just gets more and more interesting.

Parenthood is kinda like being Indiana Jones. Really! Ah, the joys of discovery that lies around every corner these days. And I mean actual corners. As in I walked in the house this afternoon and rounded the corner with V on my hip, I encountered a lovely pile of dog-poop. Thanks Chewie! I love discovering poop. It is my favorite.

There is a lot of discovery involved. I have discovered that V doesn’t like brussel sprouts (M chimes in ‘Of course he doesn’t! He isn’t crazy!’ whatever…. they are delicious). I have discovered that at every opportunity, those little hands will do down those pants…. usually right after I have removed a wet diaper. I have discovered that grapes will fit up his nose (actually M discovered that one. And really, V was the one that discovered that first). I discovered that our dog will really eat anything. And even if he doesn’t want to, he will carry it around the house and hide it…. which is why I find gluten-free waffles, corn-muffins and cheese biscuits everywhere, tucked away in corners of our apartment.

Hence, this is why discovery is Parenthood’s Indiana Jones-like theme. The joys of finding things in ears (blood) and noses (grapes). And of course in diapers (hands and poop). And also around every hour of the day…. cognitive skills are a fast paced thing, I can barely keep up with it all.

Why am I still awake again?

xoxo a.m.

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Shinchan

pee-blog

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….

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Holy!

Guacamole!!

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.

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Tattoo

cherry-muse-blog

Tattooed. Awesome.

Spending time in a tattoo studio is interesting. I’ve been in one several times before…. but this was the first time that I’ve been in one with someone that has been in one on a regular basis. She’s pretty colourful. And pretty. And pretty and colourful at the same time.

As was my experience….

Colourful.

And Pretty!!

But colourful.

I learned.

I learned things maybe I shouldn’t share with the public.

Things about going to Greece and France…. that aren’t really involved with travel. At all. Who knew. But in retrospect, it made lots of sense.

I also didn’t know that blow-jobs and chicken go hand-in-hand… Apparently they do. But that it also stops after marriage. So don’t get married or those two will no longer go hand in hand…. If they ever did. Except in the realm of imagination and tattoo parlours.

I had many conversations about drugs, chicken, foreign countries, sex, sex, sex, sex and sex. And penises. I didn’t even know how to pluralize that word. Thank god for spell-check.

Mostly I just listened and absorbed. Absorbed what? I couldn’t really say. It’s been absorbed already. It’s in there though, floating around. I am sure that it will all resurface at some point… Most likely on my next trip. Once C and I work out the kinks to my cap sleeve.

Did you know that she is my tattoo muse?

If you are looking for ideas, let me know…. she might consult, for a fee that is… I’ll make sure you get a family rate. No worries….

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