Recovery: Or how to survive a birthday party

Hottie

So Saturday we celebrated our son’s fourth birthday.

I know! I’m wondering not only how we managed to survive four years of parenthood, but also how we managed to survive our first party where we invited some of his friends.

It is, frankly, a miracle.

My love affair with TurbiTwist, or how I am extra lame

Just a half-Mothra in this shot. Extra gorgeous.

A week or so into being a full-time working mum of 2, I realize that having a turbitwist really is an essential item in my daily life.

My mother-in-law gave it to me as a joke gift at Christmas and I actually didn’t regard it as a joke. It wasn’t funny, it was practical. And kind of awesome. And my sister-in-law got one too. She might have been less excited about it than I was, but she is a decade younger than me so that pretty much explains that.

I’d used it on and off since Christmas and let me just say that it never ever ever looks as stylish on me as it does on the packaging model. I look like the hugest nerd ever, with extra big ears. My ears aren’t that big; somehow the towel accentuates their size, turning me into Dumbo. Or Mothra. yes, I think thats a better comparison. Powder blue towel head with enormous Mothra ears on either side.

I look ridiculous.

But

BUT.

Guess what saves time in the morning? Washing your hair at night.

And guess what sucks for people who have ridiculously curly hair and live in a State like, say, Florida, where it’s extremely hot and humid and rainy and tropical all the time? Not having enough time in the morning to sort out said hair, leaving the house with it wet/damp and looking ridiculous in a professional setting as a result.

Yup. That is the epitome of suckage. I might have been able to get away with it when I was in my twenties, but since I am now firmly in my mid-thirties it really is pretty damn sloppy to hit the road in the morning like that. Especially in Florida when it quickly turns into Giant Clown head.

And so? Yes, it’s true. I now wash my hair at night and throw it up in a turbi twist and sleep with it like that. And in the morning, my hair is mostly tame and only requires the merest whisp of flat iron to behave. And this, in between the insanity of feeding a baby, feeding a preschooler, walking the dog, my husband juicing a million fruits and veg for what seems like hours, avoiding getting covered in formula, getting covered in formula, changing my clothes again, slapping on some makeup, driving to Eleanor’s daycare and then speeding into the office… Well, this really does help the morning run smoother.

I also think this really helps bolster my ‘cool mom’ factor. Well, even if it doesn’t (which is really hard to believe), my hair has been looking pretty amazing.

Get one. It will change your life. xoxo a.m.

And back to work I go: First steps

I enjoy a pipe once in a while… (instagram bitches)

So it’s the end of May and guess what? I’m going back to work.

I was pregnant yesterday. Don’t you remember? I have to admit that I have to concentrate to remember myself. Eleanor was first and foremost a dream. And then an unexpected reality. And then vividly and sometimes violently present, in a manner of speaking.

One day, she was in two places at once. That’s how amazing she is.

And then, suddenly, we were a family of four.

If you asked me 15 years ago (and it pains me to even have to use that number to go back far enough in my past), I never would have imagined myself with two children. And now I can’t imagine myself without.

This past week I packed it in with Vince and Eleanor. Edward told me I was crazy pretty much every morning when I told him what my plans for the day were. But you know what? Grocery shopping is the big test with two kids. If you can manage that, then it’s safe to say that everything else really can be that easy. He has yet to experience it and therefore doesn’t thoroughly understand. Jerk.

Afternoon stroll

Therefore the Zoo and Gatorland are totally doable. The Brevard County Zoo is amazing and I’m not even a big zoo fan. You know… animals… cages… Makes me slightly uncomfortable. Not the biggest fan. But there happened to be animatronic dinosaurs and that is always a winner. And a splash-pad. Ignoring the fact that we were yelled at by a zoo employee for splashing in an, apparently, inappropriate area (assholes), it was amazing.

Mummy! I love gators. A lot.

And Gatorland? Gatorland has a train. AND, obviously, gators. AND PopPop came and met us. And nobody yelled at us. AND there were hotdogs. Win!

We hit Disney up too. Vince has been dying to go, has mentioned it non-stop for weeks. We finally managed to get a date that worked for all of us. And as a bonus for me, my lovely cousin was able to join us. Since the boys rode all rides possible and Eleanor and I just hung around, it was awesome that she was there to assist in mocking tourists non-stop. It’s an easy job, but someones gotta do it. And she does it well.

Friday was a day I was proud of. I took Vince to the library AND he used  his inside voice THE WHOLE TIME. And nobody yelled at us like the week before.

So I guess you can boil down the things that I taught my son in the last few weeks to be the following:

How to use a remote control

How to operate the dvd player

How to open the front door and run down the street (wait… what?)

How to pee like Daddy does (What? Wait…. Didn’t he already know how t…. Oh. No. Nope. he didn’t. So glad I learned that…)

How to pick up his sister and carry her around like a sac of potatoes (this was not taught, he learned all by himself)

How to identify his sister as ‘his’ and ‘not yours, Mummy’.

How to fluently use the term ‘sweetie-pie’ and ‘big-brother’ and neither used in a creepy manner.

How to pick up and carrying around our chihuahua, in a manner that does not invite dog-bites. Mostly.

How to (help me) make scrambled eggs. And also how to (help me) do the laundry.

Tomorrow I head back into the office. After dropping Ms Eleanor off at daycare for the first time of course. I am hoping that everything goes smoothly. For me, I mean.

Second time through being a mum is way easier. I might have mentioned this before and it’s completely true. You know what to expect this time and I found myself pretty much not fazed by anything. Poop, pee, coughing, rectal thermometers, crying, rashes… whatever. It’s just so much easier to handle mentally because, in my case especially, everything awful that could have happened already has. In some case, it’s happened repeatedly.

Even daycare is easier to approach and so I’ve been gearing up for it for the last couple of weeks. Most likely I’ll still be a mess tomorrow, that’s just my emotional m.o. I am a Cancer, after all. But this time around, I am way more confident in my choice of a caretaker (Vince’s school) for my sweet girl. {ie: She’s not staying in someones garage and that someone won’t lie to us and disappear months later. Still weirded out about that.} (also that sounded way worse when I wrote it out than it actually was. Honest.)

Regardless, it will always be hard to leave your child for the first time. And after weeks of Eleanor daily sweetness, and about a month of gummy grins and gooey little noises I know that it won’t be a cake-walk.

So wish me luck tomorrow. I will be keeping it together.

xoxo a.m.

More about boobs

“Happy Mother’s Day! I filled this diaper just for you!”

Mother’s Day is, I feel, the equivalent of Valentine’s Day. Another one of those ‘manufactured holidays’ hyped by card companies to generate revenue. And also, I need to chime in on that Time cover too. Just like everyone else! I know you want to read all about it. Seriously. You do.

Nurture, not eye-roll (or at least less eye rolling)

“Mummy!” Vincent shouted at me the other day, with real fear in his voice, “There’s a monkey in my nose!”

And what, you may ask, does this mean? It means he has a booger.

……..

Exactly.

About a year or so ago this phrase evolved, probably from me saying something ridiculous like “You’ve got bats in the cave”. I frequently say things that border on the ridiculous to both my children. Who doesn’t? Isn’t that part of parenting? Making up explanations for wee folk who don’t really understand what you are saying? Most of the time, the more creative you are the better. Once we told Vince ‘Don’t crawl around under the table because that’s where the snakes are’ and we’ve pretty much never needed to worry about him doing that in a restaurant ever again. (Yes, yes, we are awful, I know. Whatever.) So how on earth did a playful “You’ve got a monkey in your nose” evolve into something that is a cause for major concern, in my son’s eyes anyways?

Tough love and Rocket ships

Under construction…

Today is going to be a great day. I just know it I woke up knowing it. Vince woke up super chipper. Eleanor woke up with gooey smiles. Clearly the day is already earmarked to be amazing. Hopefully I haven’t just screwed myself with my overabundance of optimism.

4 weeks into being a stay-at-home-mom and things are slowly starting to improve. Last week was a week of tough love. But that tough love seems to have created a little boy who is determined to listen to me. Hallelujah! I’ll let you in on my secret.

Breastfeeding, Boobs and other fun stuff

 

Formula, boobs, whatever… just as long as it’s in my tummy!

Breasts, such a tricky subject to dive in to. So let’s get at it.

Monday Recap (now with more urine!)

Just about 2 more weeks left before I return to work and I have to admit that after Monday, right around 8:30 in the morning, I was positively longing for it. Mostly because there were people there that I could effectively communicate with. Most of the time, that is. And even if I did have to deal with cranky patients all day, surely that would be better than what I had just gone through.

I’m sure you are curious. Let me just say it involves urine. And a lot of it. If you aren’t that interested in reading about pee then I suggest you stop now. Because pretty much that’s what this whole post is about…

My son is a bit of a handful, to say the least. And upon reflection, that really might be all boys/girls/children right on the cusp of 4. I am pretty sure I’ve talked about this before, sorry if it’s boring. But I know you parents out there with children around this age are sympathizing. And drinking.

Vince has A LOT of energy. And A LOT of drama. And a NEW BABY SISTER. And a MUMMY WHO NEEDS MORE SLEEP. And I do my very best to keep him entertained and engaged as the days pass. We do some crafts, some scissor skills things, practice tracing letters and numbers. We do regular outings to the library and used book stores. We do all sorts of stuff.

So I figured Monday was going to be something busy. You know, because I plan Monday on Monday morning. Except I woke up exhausted and could barely get out of bed. What was that all about? I have no idea. Somehow I managed to bribe Vince to snuggling in my bed and watching Phineas and Ferb while Mummy slept. And then, once I was done that, take a shower. And it while I was taking that illicit shower that it began.

Things not to do in public parks: A Guide

'Mummy! Daddy said I could!"

 

So today I assisted my son in committing a crime.

A crime of public urination.

I had no choice though, I had to assist him. He couldn’t get his pants off by himself. Oh, and we were 20 minutes away from the house on a walk and there (obviously) was no public bathroom nearby.

And this is how it all went down:

Vince: Mummy! I have to go pee! Can I go pee outside? Daddy said I could.

(interestingly, Daddy was nowhere to be seen, mainly because he was at work many many miles away… But I digress)

Me: Ummm….

Vince: Daddy said I could…(and this was the point where he started pulling down his pants while walking away from me, so clearly whatever Daddy says {whenever it was that he said it] goes)

Me: Um, ok. Well, let’s go over here, in the bushes.

And just to clarify, we were at a park a little bit from our house and there was NO way that we would make it back in time to not have an accident. And also, isn’t this just what men do anyways? Pee everywhere both in and out of doors? So this is training. Right?

So I led him over to this little copse of trees by the lake and helped him get his pants down and he let it go. His pants had to go down all the way of course, so there just was no way at all we could even pretend to be discreet about the whole thing

All I could think about was that every single person in the neighbourhood was, right at this very moment, standing at their living room window with their faces pointed in exactly our direction. Judging us. Even that squirrel was judging us, judging us with his beady squirrel eyes…(also, I cannot spell squirrel to save my life). I honestly thought I was going to get some irate person barreling down the park sidewalk to harangue me about my public behavior. I was judging me too, if that makes you feel any better. I’d never done anything like this before.

Ok, let me clarify…. I’VE done things like this before, but that was when I was much, much, much younger. And silly. And probably camping or something. Or drinking. Or whatever, anyways… the point is that I’d never done this with my son before. I kept wondering things like “Gosh, I wish he didn’t pull his pants all the way down to his ankles. At least if he just pulled them down a teeny bit, we could be more discreet.” and “How on earth did he not go before we left the house?” and finally “Where is he keeping all that pee?! It’s a floodgate!”

Of course, the whole time he was saying things like “Daddy said I could” and “Daddy says it’s OK”.

Oh! I get it! It’s a new stage! Aha!

I discussed this with Edward later and he agreed that Vince was busting out the ‘Mummy says it’s OK’ with him too. And Edward, being Edward, believed him. Lesson: Don’t believe the majority of what your almost 4 year old tells you. Because he has learned to lie and he will lie through his teeth. Endlessly and forever. About everything.

But also he told me that he’d let Vince pee outside before when they were at that park. So Vince was, in a way, telling the truth. He just neglected to mention that Daddy had said it was OK quite awhile ago. And hadn’t said it since. To my knowledge anyways. And I am not even sure if I want to know that answer. I think I’ll leave it between the guys… (like penis cleaning, that’s the kind of thing I don’t really want to be involved in. Just about as much as Edward wants to be in cleaning his daughter’s ‘bits’)

Anyways, he didn’t have an accident in his pants so as far as I’m concerned it was a win!

xoxo a.m.

How I am still alive: A tale of survival and bleeding

I’m almost through my second week of sahm-ness and for the most part, I seem to still be alive. And, by a surprising coincidence, my son is as well. (Eleanor is, of course, completely perfect and no trouble at all). While still alive, I am worn out.

While feeding Eleanor again… (and I say again, because all I did yesterday afternoon was feed her. Constantly. From about noon to 5 pm and I am not even exaggerating) I noticed a funny discoloured spot on my shirt.