Extended lifecycle

 

Somehow it ended up happening. Our son’s life cycle extended itself another year… Despite somehow running into every wall known to man, sliding along surfaces on his stomach that are not the least bit slidey and those periodic weeks where he ate nothing at all… He is still alive.

He (we) survived.

Today, Vince and I hit up the pediatrician for his 3 year check. Every year is something different. Year one and Year two were mainly about shots. That I remember, anyways.

This year I actually had to get him to pee in a cup. Oh all that is holy, why, why  is this even needed?! Five minutes in the potty with Vince was required. I had to count to ‘almost three’ several times, hold the cup inside the potty for potential aiming purposes and thI literally had to ‘place’ the cup in the area. There was ‘cupping’. And with cupping, suddenly came pee. So much, in fact, that I was afraid that the cup would not contain it all.

V: “DADDY!! I pee in a cup!!”

Daddy: “Good job Little Man!”

And that really was the highlight of the afternoon. Peeing into containers is an awesome symbol of mans achievement. And peeing.

Post-pee, Vince was surprisingly cool with everything his doctor could throw at him. Check my ears? Sure! Listen to my heart? Why not! (All I could think during this mostly was ‘who are you?!”) Look in my mouth? No. No, actually, you cannot do that. And don’t lie about counting my teeth like Mummy said you would. BULLSHIT.

But I have no issues with you checking out my scrotum. At all. Typical.

Anyways, the verdict is he is huge. 75th in height and 95th in weight. And, flatteringly enough, she said his developmental skills are genius as is his verbal communication. And then he was cheeky and said a couple smart comments to her which made her laugh.

Yay Mummy and Daddy. I guess that’s what you get when you have two English Majors that marry each other and then procreate. And, post-creation, epically push books slash reading at every possible moment.

So it’s good. V is clever. V is amazing. V is Awesome. V: Genius.

Clearly I gave birth to the James Bond of pediatric yearly follow ups. Nice.

Nice work V!!!

xoxo a.m.

 

 

Beebee

Day by day, Little Man’s vocab is on the rise and it is truly an interesting thing to hear and help grow.

We are a big book family. I have these memories of going to the Library with my Mum when I was little  and taking out heaps and heaps of books. And then losing them around the house. And then swearing that I returned them. And then (when I was little) finding them at the bottom of the pile of papers for the fireplace (whew! Close call!).

And more embarrassing memories of being older, having Mum raid my room and taking actual laundry baskets full of books back to our local branch.

Oh god. How embarrassing that was. I might have cried all the way there in the car, ignoring the baskets in the back seat.

M used to read voraciously in bed. Whenever he didn’t know a word, he would shout it down the hall to his parents like so…

“Mom!!!!!”

(faintly) “What?”

“What’s a jockstrap??”

Loud laughter, some snorting and possible tears and no answer.

“Mom?! What’s so funny!! I don’t get it!!”

See? We are big nerds.

Anyways, I repeat words as often as possible, hoping that they will take.  Maybe 40 % of the time he repeats what I say and those little words are the sweetest things I have ever heard.

2 nights ago I coaxed him into saying ‘Night Night!” Although it sounded more like “Naa Naat!”

Dogs say either “Ffffffffft” or “Whoooooooo”.

Cats have just started saying “Meemeemmeeeee”

A baby bird says “Beebeebee”.

Lions say “AHHHHHHHHHRR!!”

And Chewie the chihuahua is now called “Zheeeeeweeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!”. He responds. That’s all that matters.

Books are his favorite things to play with right now and I think that is amazing. Awesome. Wonderful.

Each of these little words took a lot of careful and gentle repeating from Mummy.

Our big breakthrough was Saturday. While shopping at Target and walking throught the TV department, V was totally smitten with a cat he saw in a commercial. He pointed and asked, repeatedly, “Issat?! Issat!!!”.

“It’s a cat, honey. A cat says “MeowMeow”. And so we walked and I meowed and we did this all through the store. Mostly absent-mindedly on my part. Although these days, I absent-mindedly make a lot of very random noises while I am shopping with the Little Man.

“Meeemmeemeeemeemeee”, says the cat.

xoxo a.m.

Karma

So the other day my son  threw up everywhere. So awful. And even more so since the whole incidence was in public.

And then it suddenly was Christmas.

How are these 2 events linked together? This was information that I learned during Christmas morning with my sweet boys while I was unwrapping a prezzie from the Big M.

And so back to Tuesday we go, V and I wandering around the Mall on one side, while M went the other way. He likes to do his shopping last-minute. So as V and I were cruising, we strolled past the Aveda store. I am such a sucker for anything Aveda and was thinking about something for my sister-in-law and so in I strolled.

It’s basically like shopping at MAC, the shop staff is quite posh and slightly unapproachable. Completely dressed in black.  Impeccable hair.

Anyways, strolling in and around the closet that is Aveda, deeply inhaling the gorgeous aromas of their products. Of course, just staffed with one person who was deeply involved in a complicated discussion regarding conditioners.

I had a wee question to ask him, so V and I waited patiently near the till while he rang his customer up.

Suddenly, without any warnings at all, started projectile vomiting.

All I could say was “What the hell?!?!” as I tried to catch the vomit spewing out of him with one hand, while the other tipped him forward so he wouldn’t choke. And spew it did. Seemingly endless in manner…

While my hands were outstretched, both catching and supporting, the Aveda guy and customer made horrified faces at me and my child. Aveda guy offered me some towels and then went back to the counter to endlessly apologize to the blond woman who just stared at me with her lip curled in disgust. Childless bastards.

It felt endless, but maybe was approximately a minute or so. And then I cleaned up vomit for a few minutes. V just sat there in his stroller, looking shocked, I was shocked. Aveda guy was shocked. I was embarrassed. And apologetic. Aveda guy said “I’d help you, but I hope you understand that I am feeling a bit nauseaous” . And gave me a garbage bag when I asked.

I joked “Well, there could be worse places than Aveda! At least you can easily cover up the smell!!” I don’t think he thought it was as funny as I did.

I pretty much ran out of there with V, on the phone with M the whole time…

“Honey? Vomit-fest. V is covered. We are leaving. Meet you are Sears?”

“Sounds good. Why don’t you buy V something clean to wear at Sears?”

“Ok!” I said, slightly freaked out and panicked. But, of course, calm at the same time. Outwardly, anyways…

That stroller was practically on fire, it was going so fast. And a trail of vomit-odor followed us through the mall and into Sears. And into the elevator. And as the doors were starting to shut, someone shouted out for us to hold it. Really? Are you sure?

She was, and politely rode with us up to the second floor. In a vomit elevator.

I raced into the kids section going “2-t 2-t 2-t 2-t” in my head.  I only wanted that size, a shirt and pants or shorts. Quickly found some serviceable things and dashed off to the check-out.

Standing in line, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other with V in front of me caked in vomit. No-one gave us a second glance.

I reached the counter and had the following ridiculous converation:

“Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“Yes, thank you, I did.”

“Do you have any coupons you’d like to use today?”

“No, thank you.”

“Would you like to use your Sears card?”

“No, I don’t have one thanks.”

“Would you like to apply for one?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Everything would be almost free if you did~~~!”

“My child is covered in vomit, so I am not really interested at this time.”

The look on her face was priceless. And then she started apologizing. And frankly I didn’t care at all. I just paid, ripped the clothes off the hanger at the counter and refused her offer of a bag.

Back to the elevator, down to the second floor and out into the parking lot. M met me with the car on the sidewalk, which was where I stripped the Little Man down and changed his vomit-clothes. Most of them went right in the trash.

The day didn’t get any better from there. It basically sunk into vomit-hell.

Vomit, phone calls to the pediatrician, more vomit. Quick stop at home. Bath. Change. Vomit. Off to the Dr. More vomit. Vomit. Vomit. And some more vomit. Slight dehydration of the little man.

Christmas morning, as I opened a package from M, I learned more about karma than I ever knew. As I unwrapped several bottles of Aveda haircare products, M could barely contain his glee as he recounted his story. Apparently he had been in the Aveda store about 15 minutes before me. And Aveda guy was a total ass to him. So awful and condescending that M wondered why I liked their products.

So Aveda guy? Right back at ya…

Cardio Win

So in my quest for rejuvenation, I have been hitting up the YMCA pretty hard this week. No more excuses. No more ‘I’m too tired’, ‘It’s too late’ or ‘Oh, M is looking particularly handsome tonight’… none of that!

Monday night I hit up some ‘Cardio Kickboxing’. Firmly planted right in the back of the room, which is kind of like the back of the bus or the back of the lecture hall. Ready for easy and quick escape and near the door.

Hoping to enter the class unnoticed, my plan went sour when the teacher started chatting me up before the class started. Well shit. I confessed my ‘back of the room’ plan and he just laughed at me and slapped me on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” he smiled.

Oh great.

I think about 10 minutes of the class was spent (stretched over the whole 45 minutes) was spent with me looking alternately confused and staring blankly at what the people around me were doing. There was a lot of sweating too. But it was a lot of fun.

Next up?

‘Cardio Dance’

*cue laughter*

Post-kickboxing class, I reflected on my lack of rhythm. Cardio dance cemented those thoughts. It turns out that Cardio Dance is a code name for ‘Zumba‘, which is something I have no business doing.

1) I have no rhythm

2) I have no kind of street edge at all and am not able to dance with attitude (or ‘tude’ as the teacher referred to it)

3) As I discovered, I am the whitest person alive.

4) I actually am not sure how to ‘shake my booty’.

5) Going to a sexy dance class, with gyrating crotch moves, booty shakes and pelvic thrusts in my husband’s oldest and most unflattering teeshirt made me slightly self-conscious next to the other pretty young thangs in their YMCA finery.

I wasted a lot of time turning in the wrong directions, facing the wrong way and staring blankly. And laughing at myself (out-loud too. It just was that ridiculous).

And finally?

Tonight was Spin Class.

Walking into the class with 2 other people who also had no idea what they were doing made me feel a little better. Our sweet and perky teacher, who looked like she was about 5, was so enthusiastic about everything I started to feel ok about it.

Class started.

Now here is something I can handle. Just good old fashion sweat.

Sweat combined with pumping bass and pop-music. And a bike. So simple. No fancy footwork. Easy rhythms. I can handle this.

I am in exercise heaven. I might have finally found something to replace Bikram.

45 minutes later, I was soaking and my legs were shaking. *fist pump*

Exercise win!

(and I remembered my vitamin AND flossed my teeth!) Health win as well!!!

* I’ll keep you posted on if I am able to walk tomorrow or not…

Sparkle!

Please bless this home with sparkles and multi-colour shoes.

Things we do to our children.

For example, the things I do to mine.

Friday was a short day for me. Christmas party at work, a luncheon with ‘games’ and in my excitement at leaving work early I planned just a few extra things. Things that, in retrospect, should have just been ‘fit in’ on their own day. I was a wee bit determined though and we all know what that’s like.

Xmas photos at the mall (in the tropical thunder-storm that hit the area?! Sure! No problem!). Late night trip to the grocery store (late being 7 pm). Dinner at 7:30. Bed at 8 pm. This is all very unusual for all members in my household, especially the dog. I think he relies on routine and gets confused when things don’t go according to his plans.

I stayed up way later than everyone else.

And thought about things.

About the lady I met in the photo studio last night who exchanged Iphone apps with me. Thanks for ‘Hatch’! Her son was roughly the same age as V and I couldn’t help but notice that she was loosing her hair. She was much older than I am/was/will be.

Whatever that means.

Anyways…

About the photographer that made the most interesting noises I have ever heard in order to gain and keep Little Man’s attention. Good job! I didn’t even know those noises existed! And how do you learn them? And oh, how I don’t want to ever be a photog working at a place like that.

About how crappy driving in the rain is here. It might be the equivalent to driving in the snow on Vancouver Island. Despite the fact that it rains here a lot, no-one still knows how to drive in it. Hence my Island reference. Re: snow.

About how letting Little Man stay up until 8 pm equals me getting to sleep in until 9 am. Not such a bad thing.

Anyways, we got home late. The only thing he wanted to eat was banana and milk. Who am I to argue with him? We were waaaaaay beyond that point. We were at the point of  ‘nobody matters at all’,  least of all Mummy. At least he ate.

And Sunday was the same… but slightly more of ‘Things we do to our children’ and ‘What the hell were we thinking!’.

Both of these topics seem to come up rather often.

We went to Downtown Disney. For those not in Florida, it is a cute area, on Disney property but not attached to any of the parks. Movie theatres, shops, Lego stores, McDonald’s (apparently an essential), it’s all that kind of thing.

It was a no-nap day. Just a light snooze in the car, followed by french fries and chocolate milk (which is the hugest treat ever). V, in his sweater, had the run of the place. And then M had the brilliant idea to see if he liked cotton candy.

Well, he does. And sugar gives him energy despite the lack of nap.

We got back to Hunters Creek around 4 pm. And then home, after a stop at the grocery store around 5 pm. And what did we buy at the store?

A roast. Because on a Sunday night, around 6 pm, this is clearly the perfect thing to slide in the oven. At the time we were discussing it (3:30 pm) it was! And sounded so delicious!

When we got home (5 pm), and put it in the oven (6 pm) it seemed like the beef was a dream. And a stupid dream at that. We had sushi for dinner while the roast cooked.

And we had Roast for dinner tonight. Way to plan!

Things I thought about today…

About how demanding people are. Is it an American thing? Not sure, but the kind of screaming that I face on the telephone is the equivalent to a toddler tantrum. People pout and fight when they don’t get their way. To be honest, it’s rather annoying. I would rather V have a temper tantrum in the middle of a busy street than talk to some guy who can’t understand why his post-nasal drip isn’t cause for National Concern (sometimes you can just hear the capitals).

Or why we can’t see you ‘right now’. Or why you can’t  ‘just come in and wait….. it will only take “5 minutes”‘. Pretty much this is every conversation that I will be having until years end.

About how I missed my BF Shanaenae* today at the office. Naenae, you know I need to see you every day.

It’s moving into that time of the year. Yes, that’s right. It’s Nature’s Menstrual cycle. Everyone gets bitchy. And the closer it gets to Xmas and New Years, the worse it gets for all of us making appointments and doing things of other Nation Concern to random people. Bastards.

How I felt sad that V ran into daycare this morning without a care in the world. I literally was like “Oh. Ok. Um….. Um. I guess I’ll go now…” Meanwhile V is happily playing without a care in the world with another little boy. My feelings were just a little bit hurt. Just a little. *sigh* Ok, a lot.

But miraculously, I felt waaaay better this afternoon when I went and picked him up and he immediately dropped everything he was doing and ran to me. And then clung to my legs.

THAT’S what I want to see!!!! Pure dependency!

All it does is cement that my little man is growing up. And that, probably, I need to have another baby.

Lord, please bless this home with a feminine child.

Mumma needs to buy sparkly shoes for someone…

*Girl, I am only using your Ghetto name for privacy reasons….

Epic Lighting

As this Christmas season pulls up, M and I are gearing up for ‘YAY!’.

With our first house, we both really feel like we can really put effort into outside house decor.

So.

We went to Home Depot. And then to Lowes. And then back to Home Depot again.

Eventually we emerged with lights. The selection of lights involved us breaking out the calculator app on M’s crap phone to estimate if our choice was a ‘good buy’ or not. It was. Only took 35 minutes to decide upon.

We got home, V went down for a nap and M broke out the big ladder and started hanging lights for the FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE.

And I watched him FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE.

We have no idea what we are doing. Other people on our street have such nice displays, we are rather jealous. How do they do it? Do they plan? Diagrams? Blue prints? What exactly?

Anyways, we just went and bought some stuff… And some hanger-ish things.

We had a few issues with, well, lots of stuff.

And so I was sent off to Home Depot to ask ridiculous questions while M made festive beef stew for us to enjoy in this cold Florida weather.

Ridiculous Question #1: “Where do I find a double ‘male part’ extension cord?”

Ridiculous Answer #1: “Um. They don’t exist. Did your husband hang the lights up backwards?”

Me: “Maybe. I don’t know and I am not going to ask.”

V was currently on one hip, runny nose and one sticky finger up one nostril (Yay discovery!). My other hand was clutching a few packages of window clings. I was wearing slippers.

Ridiculous Question #2: “It looks like we are going to end up with some dangling male-parts hanging from our roof. I don’t want to leave it so exposed. Is there anything I can insert it into to protect it?” (I was actually talking about extension cords. I realize I should now not ever use the term ‘male parts’ ever again)

Ridiculous Answer #2: *blank stare*

Ridiculous Answer #3: “Just use some tape.” He then shook his head and walked away.

V, our window clings and my slippers left Home Depot quickly. I called M.

“Hey. It’s me. It doesn’t exist. Ya. Next time, YOU get to ask… *click*”

Our lights are slightly crooked and not as beautifully blue-printed as some of our neighbours. And there still are ‘dangling male parts’ hanging off of my roof.

Looks so gorgeously amateur, it really couldn’t look any more beautiful.

xoxo a.m.

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.

Mobile

That baby sheep in the middle, who looks like he's about to make a dash for it? That's mine...

 

The continued adventures of a mobile child…and his mother.

I might as well be his entourage, as I am always behind him. Currently he moves like rapid fire throughout, well, everything.

This afternoon we (I) decided to take a walk with the M.C. and the dog. Now, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have taken the dog, but the poor thing is just so desperate for any attention that he practically attached his own leash and walked himself in his eagerness to spend time with me.

So dog in hand, V and I went a’walkin’.

I had thought just to go around the block.

1/25th of the there… Oh look! Garbage! Mumma! Shall I pick it u…. oh. you got it for me… Thanks mumma.

1/24th of the way there. Oh look! The dog peed right there! Right there, Mumma… I think I’ll go over and walkright on top of it. Oh wait….. WHEEEEEE! I love it when you pick me up and swing me around!

1/23rd of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/22nd of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/21st of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/20th of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/19th of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

So this short walk that I wanted to take took FOR EVER.

I ended up with so many random pieces of garbage in my pocket. Rather in my pocket than in V’s mouth. And the poor dog. Mid-poop, V did a dash out into the road. I tried a ‘grab, bag and run’. And had no option but to stuff that filled poop-bag into my pocket. V was, at this point, in the middle of the street and giggling madly. Chewie was still in mid-squat but no-longer on the grass (poor dog). I had poo in my pocket. And some random Halloween garbage.

Half way back we encountered an awful combination of other dogs, other people and the road in front of our house. just the sight of this road is enough for Little man to do a fast dash for the middle of it. Collapse when I try and pick him up. Cry. Thrash. Cry some more. And then, at this perfect time, everyone in the neighbourhood walks their dog or turns onto our road and tries to park their car.

But can they?

Nope.

No, they cannot.

And why you ask?

As my child is having a tantrum in the middle of the street, effectively blocking any passage down it.

Hi neighbours! Please watch me parent my child in public! Please don’t judge me too much…

www.clusterflock.org

www.dadcentric.com

And if you are, go to the above sites and judge them too….

 

 

 

Project

Who knew people crocheted skank clothes?

 

Last year I did a lot of crocheting… I made a wee baby blanket for my girlfriend, a wee one for myself (anticipating the arrival of the Little Man), a shawl to snuggle him in while I was breastfeeding. As winter approached, I decided that making a ‘big-boy’ was a wonderful idea too.

How nice for him to have something made by his Mummy to snug the face into at night and keep those toes warm during the harsh Floridian winters… I happily spent my lunch hours and evenings unraveling my many mistakes and raveling them back up…

Post-crochet explosion in our house (and post-pregnancy as well), that yarn that Little Man so helpfully chose for me (by putting it in his mouth) started to grow some bunnies. Dust bunnies, that is… I moved the project from its prominent position in the living-room and its travel bag for its work commute, to another bag in our bedroom. And then that bag was hung up in our closet. And then it started to get warm again and suddenly the whole purpose of the blanket was not so emergent anymore.

I had lots of time to work on it. And because I had lots of time to spend on it, I spent no time at all.

None.

That’s  the way it works, right?

And then we went to Canada.

And then we decided to buy a house.

And then we bought one.

And then we moved.

And now? We are settled. And to kick off this wonderful cool temperature that seems to be moving into the Central Florida area, I thought it would be nice for V to have a blanket to snug his face.

Apparently I only have so many ideas and they just rotate throughout the year… Sad.

Last night I couldn’t find my crochet bag. Slight panic. M managed to pull it out of somewhere. Hallelujah!

I pulled my little project out of its bag and was shocked.

SHOCKED!

It was teeny.

It might as well have been a place mat.

How was he ever that little?! Looking at it and then remembering him from this morning, imperiously shouting ‘Mumma!’ at me, while pointing at his bottle I had in my hands and then toddling off to watch Murray from Sesame Street talk about the ‘Word on the Street’.

Last night I spent the evening unraveling that loving creation, feeling a little weepy while I was doing it. It took about 45 minutes, but there was just no saving it. It was too small and no amount of frilly fringe would make it big enough to cover the man-child. And frilly fringe would just be a bad call. Really bad call…

So here we go again… Starting tomorrow, I mean. And yes, it will be chronicled. Expect updates.

It will be made this winter, damn it!!

17

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.