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.

Big Kids

V wants to play with the big boys and girls.

This was fairly evident yesterday when I took him to the park. Happily playing with Mummy in the park, we literally were going down dual slides ‘hand-in-hand’. It was like the ideal vision of quality time with Mummy. I was having so much fun. So was he…

And then, the big kids came.

First it was 2 girls, maybe around 10 or so… Screaming and yelling, they ran into the gated playground shouting things like “I’m gonna kill you!” and “You’re such a bitch!”.Ah, tweens…

V was dumbstruck… He toddled in their direction, at first a little tentatively… and then full throttle. He was fascinated by them. All of the loudness. He wanted to be right in there. And they wanted to have nothing to do with him. Because they are big kids. Didn’t even make eye-contact with him, or say ‘hi’ or comment on how cute he is…

Wherever those big kids went, he did too. He climbed higher on the playground than he ever has before, just trying to follow them.

And then 2 boys joined them.

The conversation immediately changed to things like “You’re such a girl” and “I kicked her in the vagina” and “Stop trying to kick me in the vagina”.

I could not believe that they were all throwing the vag about. And they were 10. And they were proud about it too! Like kicking someone in the vagina was the cool thing to do. I feel confused.

Anyways, V thought everything about them was awesome, as evident by the look on his face.

Playtime was done and dinnertime was approaching, we headed out of the playground and meandered in the direction of home. V meandered a little more than I did… Big kids are distracting.

He lagged further and further behind me. I was attempting to do some reverse psychology and so kept walking away saying “Bye bye V! Bye bye!!”.

This was ineffective. It probably would have been more effective on anyone else’s child. He grabbed a toy and ran back towards the playground. He ran up to the fence that surrounded the play area, right near where the big kids were playing. He took that toy and threw it through the fence, so it landed right near where the big kids were.

He said “Uh-oh!”. Ya right. Like that was an accident.

And then he ran into the playground and went and got it. And then he lingered. I had to go and sweep him off his feet and humorously run out of there with him (that means I make funny noises when I run. Noises like “Doodly -doot-dee-doot-dee-doo!! Whee!” and then I feel a wee bit stupid. (I am sure the big kids would agree.)

He was so mad that we left and kept trying to head back there. I eventually distracted him with my expensive phone. He might have put it in his mouth only twice. Don’t tell M. Please.

xoxo a.m.

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!!

The Ladies

I know she only has one arm... sometimes the Ladies room is just that dangerous...

Things I did today for the first time….

Got poop stuck under one of my fingernails. And no, it was not mine. In 17 months, this was the first time it has happened. How it hasn’t, no idea…. however, lately he has become extremely thrashy. Like his father, mid-90’s. So genetics. Ya. Thanks M, for passing that genetic gift on.

I also took V into the Ladies Room with me today. Why I thought this would be a brilliant idea? Not sure… But I had to go to the bathroom and we were about to hit up a long drive. Luckily no-one was in the room when we entered and it stayed that way the whole time we were in there.

The moment his feet hit the floor of the stall, he turned around and those little fingers went right for the latch. Oh the fast mind of a mother…. “Ooooh, look honey…. toilet paper! On a roll! Oooooooh! Look! We can keep pulling and pulling and pulling it…..”

And that’s how he kept himself occupied the whole time we were in there. And then we washed our hands. With soap. All wet, freshly washed hands go directly down the front of Mummy’s shirts and into her bras.

And then there was the first time I said ‘NO!!’ in a very strong manner to Little Man. And then he laughed at me. Actually, he laughed so much, that he fell down on the ground and proceeded to keep giggling.

I even pulled out all of the stops with a full-on first, middle and last name firm, warning-like tone.

He kept laughing at me.

And then he hit his head on  the exact thing that I was trying to steer him away from. Which was the TV stand, in case you were wondering. That stand and all of its wires are truly a beacon to all men.

And then he cried. A lot. And then I felt slightly smug…. I was all like “See?!?! SEE!!!! That’s why I was trying to keep you away from there!!!”.

But since we are not really at a communicating stage yet, he didn’t listen to my logic and kept crying.

And I can’t handle it. So I scooped him up, gave him a cuddle and that crying stopped in…oh…2 seconds….

FAKER!!

I don’t think he really bumped his head at all… I think he just smacked the console and made a sound that was the same as hitting your head…

Damn it! So screwed over here… need more skills to deal with toddlers.

PS… All of these lovely occurrences happened today… just an fyi…

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.

Suck it up, Mummy

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.

Breasts

Recently V started something new.

Pointing at my chest, more like poking me in the breasts (gawd, I hate writing ‘breast’, makes me feel like I am a guidance counselor and have a group of teens giggling at me)…anyways, he pokes me in the ‘breasts’ and exclaims ‘Mumma!’. And then he pulls my shirt out and takes a peek down it. And after he’s done that, he looks up at me and grins in the hugest way…

My first reaction? Laughter… Because FOR REAL, how else do you react to something like that?!

That is followed by… ummm…not sure what…blank? Awkward grin? A wtf face?

One of those….

It WAS rather funny. And now it’s moved into a pattern of, say, all the time. Which I guess, in hindsight, is not really a pattern at all. More of a regular event. A daily event actually.

Hm.

As are the other things, and you parents of boys know exactly what I mean. And I can sum it all up with the phrase “It starts early and never ends”. And I mean it. And then, for you non-boy parents, I will throw in the phrase ‘bits’, ‘adjusting’ and ”touching’. Is it clear? Have you ever met a man? Talked with one? Perhaps lived with one?

Then it’s clear…

It is the beginning of man. With each day passing, I understand my husband of almost 5 years just a little bit more. Watching a baby grow into a toddler and into a boy and then into a man…. well it’s basically the evolution of ‘man’ itself.

The breast obsession/hype, followed by the penis obsession.

Oh son of mine, you will not read this for many, many a year. Thank you for the  inspiration…

(and stop poking my breasts like that!)

xoxo a.m.

Confidence

We are in crunch mode this week.

Moving into our new house in approx 5 days and 6 hours…. give or take. Things are feeling a little hectic and surreal over here on this side of town.

Yesterday our new appliances were delivered, turning our gaping hole of a kitchen into a sleek, awesome room of efficiency, filtered water and cool poses at the automatic ice-maker (in-door of course). Installation of our new washer and dryer turned empty upstairs cupboard with slightly dirty floor into cupboard of high-tech cleaning devices clearly made on another planet. Some kind of crazy Dr Who-like planet. With Darleks.

It transformed our house. It is freaking me out. I can’t stop freaking out.

On the freak out horizon is V’s latest efforts to walk . He is trying so hard. He will take the odd few steps by himself, but clearly is more comfortable on the floor crawling like a mad man. We are currently encouraging him to walk at every opportunity. And he welcomes it. He will happily cling to your finger and walk like a seasoned pro. Let go of that finger though…? And he will topple right over.

He is just not that confident yet on his feet.

How confident is he opening doors? He is the King of Confidence-town.

Yesterday we walked upstairs, went into Mummy and Daddy’s new bedroom and shut the door. Mummy wanted to take a good look at the bathroom off the master suite. She put V down and walked 2 steps away from him and turned her back for 15 seconds.

In that 15 seconds, V crawled over to the door, opened it and made it half way down the stairs by himself.

Mummy just about had a heart attack. Holy crap.

Must lock all doors. For Ever.

We went from a handle to a knob on both the front door and back because of this. Then we installed baby gates. Oh the blood and sweat of Pop-Pop that went into the installation (and keeping V away from the installation). Thank god though… now all we have to worry about is the taps on the tub.

The taps that he can apparently also turn on. I have these awful images of him closing the bathroom door and turning on the taps and falling in.

Now is the time in my life where I become MOTHER. The super all-seeing, all-observing and all-knowing mother that can hear a tap turned on 3 miles away. Or a door opened and closed. Or a window opened. Or anything.

No sleep for me ever again…

Toast

Today I bought a sandwich for a homeless kid.

I wasn’t going to. To be honest, I usually avoid anything to do with people asking for money. It’s pretty much inherent. Part of living on the West Coast I think. I am immune to begging…

On the West Coast, homeless people have cats and dogs that they guilt you into feeling sorry for. Who, seriously, can resist giving money to help someone feed their dog. That is the hardest thing in the world for me. Poor animals.

West Coast homeless people also try to ‘jolly’ you out of spare change. Or insult you…. one or the other…

Case in point:

Once, my mother and I were ‘accosted’ by a young man who swore we were so beautiful that he had immediately, on the spot, made up a poem, just for us. He was so charming, that of course we said yes. And then he charged us a dollar. And my Mum, being the lovely person she was, gave it to him.

And then we watched him do the same thing to someone else.

It was funny though. $1 equals funny experience that I remember 10 years later. I guess it was worth the price…

There is a well known man who sits outside a church in downtown Victoria that chimes “Spaaaaaare a little chaaaaange…” He is elderly, white-bearded. Practically has become part of the landscape. I hardly notice him when I am back home.

One day, walking past the Eaton’s Center (that would be ‘The Bay Center’ to all of you young ones in Victoria), I was yelled at for ignoring a request for change. I am sorry. But, to be honest, I can only handle that request so many times… Once I hit 4 or 5, I have reached my limit. It is hard for me to avoid the pleading eyes, but after years of experience I have become a skilled professional.

Living in the South is a little bit different.

There is no real downtown core, so you are not slammed with the exposure that you would be in my hometown of Victoria, or even Vancouver.

M and I were checking out Orlando’s ‘downtown’ area one day, back when I had first moved here when we were approached by the skinniest, dirtiest black man you have ever seen.

He proclaimed “You are in LOVE. I can feel it”.

“I can feel you love, it’s so strong. I know you love this gorgeous woman. You love her. I can feel it…. let me dedicate a song to her beauty…”

And then he proceeded to sing, with a glorious smokey voice, an amazing, jazzy, 1920’s made-up song about my beauty and how it had M wrapped around my finger. For surely no man had ever resisted a woman such as I…

Oh god, how I was both embarrassed and flattered. We gave him $5 and he went on his way, down the deserted street that he had crossed to reach us.

This young man that I saw today was the skinniest boy you have ever seen. Clad in dirty jeans and a black tank top… those shoulders of his popped right out of his torso, they were so sharp and narrow. He asked me very politely “Ma’am, spare any change?” And unfortunately I had none….

So I bought him a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water instead. And apologized to him on my way out of the restaurant for not having any money to give him. I hoped he would like this sandwich instead. He thanked me, and gave me a shy happy smile.

Just look what motherhood has done to me….

Pee

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…