Category Archives: Daddy

Bits

How do you name a penis?

Tricky question, eh?

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

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

So of course we hit the usual…

Arms!

Fingers!

Toes!

Tummy!

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

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

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

What WHAT?

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

Crap.

What did I just create.

And crap. What do you call those bits?!

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

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

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

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

Vince!! Wash your ‘peepee’!”

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

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

Any suggestions?

xoxo a.m.

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Pause

So my parents are arriving in T-minus 28 days or so. And so I have 4 weeks to turn our office into a cosy room . I have been up on a ladder drinking wine like a mother f’er for a week, while I paint that damn room and its damn closet.

Since last Tuesday that has been my evenings plan. And M was working all of those nights, so I embraced it as busy time for Mummy.

Ladders and wine every evening ended up with late nights, every night this past week.

And Thursday and Friday as well.

M, working at that Disney restaurant he moonlights at, and after coming home at 3 am 3 nights in a row, finally got a break Friday night and called me around 11 pm. He was on his way home. Holy crap!

Filet mignon with pepper crust and gorgonzola dressing is what awaited him. As well as me, up a ladder in the closet. With a glass of wine.

Shortly after he arrived and got settled with dinner and a well deserved beer, V woke.

And it was a scary awakening. Screaming and thumping rained down on our living room ceiling. So much so that I actually went up and cuddled  that little man. And then brought him downstairs. And then regretted it when he perked up as soon as my foot him that last step on the stairs.

Big smile for Daddy and an immediate “Issat!” with a big pointy finger at the TV where Top Chef Season 5 was playing.

That  Little Man was a midnight blur of activity. He ran around the living room, dragging his little chair up to the coffee table and plunking his tush down.

“Mumma! Baba!!”, he demanded.

Yes sir. Into the kitchen I went to get him a bottle of milk and a little midnight snack of Cheerios.

He sat so nicely in his chair when he snacked down. About 2 minutes into midnight snack, he picked up his bottle and snack dish and walked over to Daddy.

“Dadda!’, he shouted imperiously.

M obligingly lifted him up onto his lap where he sat for about 20 minutes, snacking and watching Top Chef.

Mama! Da!”, he shouted again, pointing at his book with the duck on the front cover. M transferred him over to me, and we read about the duck and how it was looking for its mother.

It was such a random late night. We were so amused by the Little Man. And then after his story, I carried him up to bed and he went right to sleep.

While this may (mostly may not) be exciting to you… and by ‘you’ I mean my Mum. Thank you Mum for reading this regularly… for us, it was just the sweetest late night treat.

For M and his week of really late nights, it was a lovely V-treat.

For me, it was a deep sigh of contentment. I watched the two of them together and felt my heart just melt with love.  It feels like these days are moving so quickly that any little moment like this is a little pause and sigh.

So my friends…. pause and sigh at those sweet moments.

And speaking of sweet moments, I must admit that I am fascinated by the fact that the White House has a beekeeper. And beehives. And harvests its own honey, which they use in the White House kitchen.

Totally so admirable and so wish I could have one too. But I have this feeling that my neighbours (in their much smaller townhouse) would totally be pissed at the constant buzzing noises and non-stop dog-barking that would result from the constant buzzing.

So for now, I’ll just admire those WH clever-clogs. And check out this link to check out those sweet honey makers…

xoxo a.m.

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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.

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17

17-blog

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.

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Stink

peg-blog

I am thinking that I might rename my blog “Things my husband and child do to me”. I know that is all I blather on about. Is it entertaining for you? Yikes! I hope so! It is for me…

Since we are currently pending finalization on our new house, I don’t have much to say. I am not going to yoga. We are trying to not eat out. I am not shopping for everything. Unless it’s V-related and then it’s no holds barred. I can shop forever for him but can I buy myself a shirt? No.

I literally feel the need to shower him with everything (kisses, hugs, new clothes, books, hugs, more kisses, snuggles [even though he does not snuggle, never has unless he’s sick and sometimes pushes me away when I try] tasty healthy treats, rattly things and on and on). I sometimes feel guilty about spending money on myself.

So really nothing is going on over here. No exciting things, just regular life things. Just a lot of waiting. And the waiting is hard. Especially for me, as waiting and I are not the best of friends.

Things my child did to me today:

It is so cute, I don’t even mind that much. I am teaching him to brush his teeth. He get very excited about this nightly event and I let him hold the toothbrush all by himself. We’ve been working on ‘brushing’ motions for a while and have managed a regular, somewhat jerky motion. If I try and help him (oh, he has to hold the brush by himself), he yanks the brush out of my hand and grunts in an annoyed manner. So, unassisted brushing it is with a light dash of arm-waving.

The fun part comes about 15 seconds into the brushing. V has not learned the exciting technique of swallowing while brushing. Of course he hasn’t! He’s 14 1/2 months!! So it all just drips right out…. Elmo baby toothpaste and spit dripping onto my arm. I am so into the whole night-time brushing thing that I don’t even notice until we are rinsing his little hands. I. Am. Covered. In.  Drool. Oh, and baby toothpaste… It just rubs right in though… no worries. Can’t even notice it was there…

As for that husband of mine?! I swear to god if I find another dirty stray sock lying around the house, I will remove all socks from this premises… No joke.

Where ever it is he leaves them, our Chihuahua finds them, drags them out and romps joyously around the house with them. Chews them with such ardor that he might as well marry that sock. And if he married all of the socks that he loves on, M would be sock-less. Forever.

He often brings them over to my lap to share them with me. Ick. ICK! M! I hate your socks!!

But I still love you…

For things that stink (like M’s socks), click here

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Dinner

dinner-blog

As requested, this post is about M.

As in, “Honey, what should I write about??”

“I think you should write about how awesome your husband is.”

OK. I certainly will try.

He is pretty awesome.

He has made me dinner every night that he has been home during his summer holiday (he is a middle school teacher). And, it is always beautifully plated. And he always presents it to me from such a great height. So I have to wait until it is lowered to my eye-level to see what it is. Did I also mention that he never tells me what he is cooking?

I also am never allowed into the kitchen. Ever. While he is cooking. All cooking (by him) that goes on in our house is a surprise. And it really is! I tend to cook the same way. It’s a whole 2 veg 1 protein type of meal with me. I make home-cooking. Shepherds pie, mashed potatoes, steamed veg, casserole…. things of that nature. It is all I can cook.

I cannot do reductions.

I sometimes burn steaks just right.

I can make magical Vincent-meals.

I make a wicked Seafood salad (that doe not include mayo). Oh, and can I ever bake….

I can’t, however, make Quinoa, risotto, a proper blackened steak of any kind. Or spell that word right. Ever. I never know what wine goes with what.

I just drink red. I figure its got to fit in there somehow….

The ceremony that goes one with M’s meals is something to be seen, heard, tasted and enjoyed.

Tonight it was Pepper Pork Tenderloin, on a bed of greens with fresh peaches with a home-made Italian reduction drizzled…everywhere…

So here’s to M’s delicious cooking, my complete spoiledness, V’s future spoiledness (once we have properly developed his taste-buds, that is), our new house and future appliances that M will cook delicious things on.

Handsome husband, oh how I adore thee…. especially…well… all the time. Can’t lie there. You are pretty awesome. And put up with my OCD cleaning. And my OCD list-writing. Oh, and my OCD cleaning.

love you. xo

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I (we) need

need-blog

Things I haven’t done in a while:

Cut my toe-nails

Taken a relaxing bath.

Read a book on a quiet Sunday morning.

Read a book.

Watched a whole movie.

Things I have done recently:

Cleaned a very dirty bum.

Stroked a sweaty, sad litte brow.

Planted and watched some herbs grown on my front porch.

Heard the words “You complete me” sung through my ipod headphones at the tail end of a run, while looking at M and V play in the park. Thinking….”Oh, my…. it is true”.

Things I will do in the future:

Get a tattoo.

Teach V how to nod his head. Currently he can only shake his head and say “Nananananananana…” to everything, even if its things he wants.

Help those chubby little feet sit flat on the ground, instead of up on their tip-toes like they are now. Future ballerina? I think not. He already has linebacker shoulders.

Buy a house.

Buy a house before Christmas.

Finally convince M that I do, indeed, need a nightly foot massage.

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Sweet!

sweet-blog

Apparently life decided to ring in July with proper pomp and celebration.

It started out alright. With cupcakes. Now, cupcakes from Publix are not a shabby way to start the day…. things went smoothly and busily at work (just the way I like it). Things started to take a bit of a down-ward turn when I called V’s pediatrician…

He had his first MMR shot the past week, bit of a fever this past weekend….. and developed an interesting rash yesterday. Sort of a torso-encompassing kind of rash, one that looks pretty awful but apparently has no effect on V at all. No itching, no additional fever, no coughing…. so pretty much no nuttin’.

Just this ‘interesting’ rash.

It didn’t get any better today, so I called his wonderful Dr E. The office told me the usual….”We can’t diagnose a rash over the phone.”

“You can’t?! Why not!?!?” was my response. I know the drill, I’m not an idiot…. and so I agreed to whatever time they told me to come for an appointment. Afternoon off it was. And home I went to a fussy babe and tired husband.

Dr E diagnosed (after some listening, checking, peeking in many orifices with instruments and temperature-taking…. oh and throat-swabbing) that it was most likely a reaction to the shots… or Roseola…. but probably a reaction to the shots. The rash will get a little worse, and then it will get lots better.

Nice. Yay fourth of July and celebrating V’ girlfriends birthday!! With a rash! Sweet!

And then my car broke down… *sigh*

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Potato (PoTAto)

potato-blog

Potato. Sometimes I hate you.

I really love you. Mashed. Fried. Hashed. Deep-fried. Really however you are served. Boiled too.

This evening I arrived home from work to find dinner preparations in full swing. Things were being boiled and stirred in the kitchen. Pans were being rattled around. The tap was being turned on and off. Repeatedly. And V was wailing away in his high-chair, clutching his bottle, naked (except for a diaper) with his damp hair sticking up…

Apparently he had just had a bath. And M thought it would be a good idea to stick him in his high-chair diaper-clad.

And then make him mashed potatoes.

Now I know more women than men are reading this. Well, I am pretty sure anyways….. But lets follow the logic on this one….. fresh from the tub, squeaky-clean, that lovely baby smooth skin…

I am sure that the first thing that you are thinking about is how feeding your child mashed potatoes without a bib is maybe the best idea ever!

I returned from my run (luckily) just post-potato fest.

V. Was. Covered.

Hair. Toes. Diaper. High chair. Diaper. Nose (up). Face. Ears. etc etc.

I carried him to the bathroom at arms length, and stripped him down on the bath mat. A trail of mashed potato followed us, quickly eaten by Chewie. A little got rubbed into the bathmat I bought from Ikea a few weeks ago. Potato plus lime green equals poor colour management. Anyways, happily the tub was still full.

Oh wait. I mean unhappily it was still full of dirty, brown cold water. Awesome. So a naked V happily played with cold mashed potatoes that were flaking off his body on our bathroom floor, while Mummy refilled the tub. I might have cursed M just a little. I might have ended up with potato in my hair. And somehow in my armpit…. not sure how it got there, but I am not surprised. Things seem to turn up unexpectedly these days. Zucchini in diaper, potato in armpit. That’s how it goes….

We are still running in full-on teething mode. 4 coming in. Drool. Tantrums ahoy! And the most awesome crying, flailing back-bends you have ever seen in your life!!

Good times over here in Orlando… I think it might take a while until I love potato again…

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Filed under bed-time, busy, Daddy, family, Florida, holy mother, potatoes, random, Summer of Dad, Uncategorized

Home Depot of Dads

dad-blog

Monday night, M and I reclining in the living room.

We have survived. 4 whole days of teething. 4 new teeth coming in. An interesting new habit I like to call ‘Tantrum”. An unfortunate lack of regular naps (he is very stubborn). Oh, and the end of the Cheezie stash in our apartment. It’s been a tough couple of days….

Regardless, we both finished a lovely dish of homemade Pad Thai, a few glasses of red wine and are watching some Burn Notice (which is our latest non-thinking evening entertainment. We watch it while I blog and M plays around on his DS…. fights Ogres, Dragons and Orcs and other things like that.

So tonight I dedicate to my darling M.

Mr Mum, as he is known this summer. Mr Mum is awesome. Every morning V and Mr Mum walk to the park to play. Every morning they meet their new dog friends, Jake and Pretty, on their way to the park. I know they have fun as the stroller comes home covered in some kind of new substance which I think is a combination of grapes, cheese and sand. It is sort of like cement (I noticed it was as I was trying to scrub it off the stroller this evening).

Breakfast and lunch are duly (and lovingly made). Outfits are hastily and poorly put together, but in a wonderful sort of way. Tops and bottoms are the opposite of matching. He would be the Dad that the other Mums in the park oooh and aah over. And bring extra snacks for. And dote on. Man, this could be trouble….. He is rather lost looking and adorable…. that’s M I mean, not V…..

He is such a good Dad. All Dads are good dads, but it is an amazing thing to watch a new Dad at work. M is unlocking abilities that I never knew exsisted in him. He is mastering new levels. His skill level is rising.

And I am playing too much  Mob Wars on FB.

Regardless, M is total Major Dad this summer. He is all schedules,  parameters and other technical terms I can’t think of right now. Everything is organized. Listed. Super organized. M is the Home Depot of organized. And the Lowes of Dads.

It’s shaping up to be an awesome hardware store-filled summer  for the boys…

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