Category Archives: busy

Neb Ninja

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

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

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

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

Day 3? Forget it.

Disaster.

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

Sesame Street.

Elmo books.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xoxo a.m.

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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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Normal life

ikea-blog

A wee excerpt from my normal life…

Taking the elevator from the top floor in Ikea, down to the bottom with my cousin. Oh, how do we love Ikea. So many things to think and plan about, meatballs to eat, lighting fixtures to drool over. It is a beautiful place for the female members of my family.

Let’s backtrack a little…. rewind back to the food court on the top floor, about 10 minutes earlier… focus in on our lovely Ikea meal we were having. Well, that C and I were having, as V was clearly not interested in having any part of it. This was  illustrated by the carrots and cheese that he spat out. Spat out with force, I might add. He got some serious distance. Where did this random ‘skill’ come from? No idea…(signs are pointing towards his father though…)

So, as we fought with the meal tray, dropped carrots all over the place, spat out some meatball, smeared things all over our very small 18 month-sized shirt….all of this heavy action was followed by a stealth-poop.

And by stealth-poop, I mean that there were none of the usual warning signs. No grunting, no red face, no nuttin’……

Just an unfortunate smell…. one that crept up on me. It took C a while to notice… and that is because she does not have a poop-machine at home and so doesn’t recognize the early aromas-slash-signs….

But when it hit her…. oh man. It really hit her.

By then we were already on our way to the ‘family’ change-room.

But. It was locked. Damn it!! My son’s poop-bottom is more important than yours!

So I headed into the main washroom which thankfully had a changing-station.

Oh, that poor ladies-room. It was quickly defiled the instant that my son’s pants came off. That movement was punctuated by C’s exclamation of  ‘Motherf’er! Jame. That. Is. Awful.”

It might have been, but honestly, my nostrils are immune to stank like that. And my eyeballs don’t even notice anymore.

The other ladies that exited stalls and washed their hands smiled at my commentary regarding Little Man’s stinky pants. His very stinky pants. And how nice that the changing table was situated so that his dirty little bottom faced the mirrors and was reflected down the washroom.

As I wiped, cleaned, wiped and wiped some more, ladies filed in and out. There were giggles. Some of them might have come from my cousin.

As I reached into my diaper bag and pulled out a stank-diaper bag (you know, one of those ‘green’ bags that you stuff your stink into when you are out in public so the trash doesn’t stink awfully?) and got ready to deposit the ‘deposit’ into it, my cousin exclaimed at its cleverness. Really, it is very clever.

Such a nice way to tidy up after a stinky bum.

The lady washing her hands at the sink chimed in “I use plastic bags to clean up my cat’s litter box. They are so handy.”

C: “But I bet yours aren’t Arm and Hammer”.

Bathroom Lady: “No. You are right. I just use regular plastic bags”. *laugh*

Jaime: “My bags come with a handy container to hook on your hand-bag”.

C: “Quite handy when you are at Ikea”

BL: “I don’t bring my cats with me to Ikea”.

*Silence*

And then we left the bathroom and headed down to the ground floor…

Just another normal day….

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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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Memories…

motherhood-blog

I can’t remember a damn thing.

Now. Partially this is genetic. And partially it’s a ‘I’m getting older’ thing. Although, since I am in my early thirties, that excuse might not fly as high as I would like it too.

Lately (and by lately, I mean the last 4 or 5 months), I have been noticing my memory  is severely lacking. Not in the “I am living in this house with….. who?” kind of department, but more like a “Where did this pen that I am holding come from… I swear I wasn’t holding it 5 seconds ago..”.

Now I had been falling back on that old ‘I have mom-nesia’ thing. BUT. THEN. I read an article in a parenting mag that states that there was a ‘study’ done, indicating that parenthood/mothering is not related to memory loss… or something to that effect. I always believe what I read in magazines. Or, at least I do for about 30 minutes, then get annoyed…
And so I was like “WHAT?!?! It’s not?!?! Huh. Wonder why I can’t remember anything?…… wait a minute… Parenting magazine does not speak the truth all the time… Bastards. “(Bastards is my current favorite word)

Anyways, so for about 30 minutes there I wondered what really was wrong with me. Then at the 31 minute mark, I decided it really was just parenthood. Oh, and combined with first-time home-buying as well. The nastiest of all nasty concoctions. Yuck.

So it is ok that I am holding things in my hand and I am not sure where they came from.

Also it is ok if, at work, I pick up and put down things at a dizzying rate all over the office. And then suddenly run out of pens (that’s what I pick up and put down). Or buy fish and then forget it in the fridge at work. Or day after day walk out of the office, drive half way home and then realize that I forgot all of those boxes that my co-workers have been saving for me at the back door.

And there are a million things more. I just can’t seem to keep my head on straight. I drop things. I knock things over. I enter rooms. Stop. Wonder what I am doing, walk out of them and then 1 minute later walk back in and grab my cell phone.

It is a truly sad state of affairs right now. Punctuated by a continued lack of caffeine (for health purposes).

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Lip-balm

blistex-blog

August is officially the month of Japan.

For those who aren’t ‘in the know’, M and I lived in Japan for about 3 years.

We met. We saw. We loved. We conquered.

M and I kept our relationship a secret for quite a while… once we started dating, that is…

We were outed in the randomest of ways. Mostly due to Sohee. Thanks Sohee!!

Every night in Hamamatsu in the early 2000’s meant hitting up Amigo’s Bar. Amigos was the Gaijin Hotspot in the city. Even if you didn’t want to go there, wanted to maybe try out something different…. you still ended up there at the end of the night. Drunk.

Or you started out the night there, got lured in by Paul (the owner) and then never ever left. Suddenly it was 8 am. You have been there 12 hours, are starving and your boss drives past as you are leaving and waves (future conversation regarding how you are such an early risier).

So, early in our courtship M and I start out the night there. Meeting a bunch of friends.

I remember riding our bikes there… pausing for a make-out session….applying some lip balm, and then heading in. Who would know that lip-balm would play such a huge part in our life.

Did you know that some lipbalm glows in the dark? Well, Sohee thought she would be a sweet girl and point that out. We denied it as firmly as we could.

“I lent him some”…. I think that was my big statement. And I thought that we both were rather convincing. When you’ve been riding a bike with a beer in one hand (as you do, in your twenties in a foreign country), it is easy to imagine that everyone will believe you. And if they don’t, then clearly they must be crazy.

So there we were, in Amigos, with glowing lips. And Sohee asking us both “Um, why are your lips glowing?”

Damn her and her intuitive eyes… And damn me and my crap excuses. My extemely unconvincing excuses, poor eye contact (which probably ruined any credibility that I might have had… excuse wise I mean…) and damning body language. Leaning into someone that you are currently romancing is a very obvious sign that you are… you know…

Well, anyways…. this is just a wee intro to a lovely month of Japan reminiscence…

Please stay tuned for all things romantic and Japanese.

xoxo a.m.

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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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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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Not sold yet

house-blog

I just ate a BT sandwich. It would have been a BTL, except someone (M) ate all of the lettuce. What’s up with that!!

Since when doe he eat vegetables? Unprompted?

Regardless, after all of that house hunting this evening, it might as well have been a medium-rare piece of tenderloin covered in peppercorn, with a side of blue crab. With, oh, some tuna tartar. And a gorgeous glass of Merlot…

House hunting is exhausting, as I have now discovered. I feel like we are this sort of tornado, descending on all of these neighbourhoods. We are kind of all over the place…We like it….5 minutes later, we don’t like it. Then we like it again.

It’s totally in. And then it’s totally out (neighbourhoods, I mean). AND then things join the picture that we were never expecting.

And by that, I mean Lake Nona

And the real funny thing about this post is that I haven’t even talked to M since I got back from hunting with his parents. M’s mother is so awesome, she knows how to ask all of the right questions. And is super picky, and very verbal about it too. Which I appreciate it. I love people with very blunt opinions. It’s refreshing. I can’t stand beating-around-the-bush.

We looked at a few houses in the neighbourhood, and then decided to ‘what the hell’ take a look at some town houses.

Apparently I have preconceived notions about them. Or at least I did. After seeing this one, I no longer do. In fact, I want it. Who wouldn’t?

Porch.

Brick patio.

4 bedrooms.

It looks like Celebration, FLA…. which, for those who aren’t in the know, is beautiful and so out of our reach its not even funny…

*sigh*

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Zap!

zap-blog

As you may or may not know, V is an actual genius.

It’s true.

He proves it to us day after day. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just that we are easily impressed… But these things he does are AMAZING! We are astounded.

He eats a blueberry for the first time…… HOLY COW!!

He gobbles down asparagus like it was candy, making me exclaim “Ha! I know you got that from Grandpa Larry!”. WOW!

He crawls faster that I can run, which clearly illustrates that I need to exercise more as I must be going pretty slow. Right? Or maybe he’s just a super-fast baby. KAZAAM!!

He charms all ladies with a single casual coy glance from those heavily-lashed caramel-brown eyes. BA-BAYAM! (Southern accent is implied here)

I am sure that this must be getting ‘old hat’ for all 4 of you that read this blog on a regular basis. I am sure you are thinking things like “Yes, yes Jaime. We know he is amazing *sigh* and charming *double sigh* and super clever *HUGE extra deep super-sigh*.  For the LOVE OF GOD.”

Yes, yes, I know all of that. But then, tonight, he did something unbelievable.

And you ready for it??

Are you sure?

Can you handle the full-on buffalo-jumping-off-of-a-cliff super excitement of it all??

The most amazing I-just-discovered-the-most-awesome-musician-I-have-ever-heard-and-I-want-to share-it-with-everyone kind of feeling?

A kind of I-rode-a-camel-for-the-first-time kind of unbelievable feeling?

Alright… here it is.

He clapped his hands by himself.

Holy crap!

As I was watching him do it, it was like my mind couldn’t comprehend what was going on. I saw him doing the action, and watched the “I am clever” smile light up his face, but still, I had no idea what he was doing. It was like when I saw him stand up for the first time. I almost didn’t believe it.

I think he clapped for about 30 seconds straight before I actually comprehended what he was doing. I followed my non-comprehension with “Good job, Little Man!”. And then I cried.

Oh my big boy…. Clapping away by himself in his high-chair, covered in grilled cheese sandwich,  as I was grilling him some asparagus and defrosting some of his birthday cake for dessert. I know “grilling”, right? I might as well grow his own food while I am at it.

Ok, back to me blathering away. I cried. V is one. He claps. I am teaching him to point at pictures in his bedtime books, he is saying things to me that almost sound like real words. I swear he said “Pop-Pop” the other day. My heart might explode.

Too. Much. Emotion.

If I can’t even handle clapping, how am I going to manage him walking. Even going potty. Clearly I will just be an emotional mess until he is in his 30’s. Can’t wait!

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