Category Archives: Florida

A pregnant Christmas ramble…

I’m not really sure how it happened, but Christmas is in 8 days. Originally I had felt a bit panicked as the holiday season approached, what with being an enormous preggo and all. That combined with shopping  is just a pile of no-fun. But as it turns out, there isn’t anything to worry about.

After much conversation, Edward and I are (in a way) opting out of the majority of the hype shopping-wise. Honestly, there isn’t anything that either of us want. And really all I like is presents in my stocking, that’s my favorite.

And plus, what is honestly more fun that watching your child’s face on Christmas morning. Much more rewarding that watching your partners face as they open socks (or whatever awesome techno-giftie you got them this year).

So I low-keyed it, bought V a bunch of Star Wars books. And a few other things as well, it’s hard not to… And Edward is having a hard time resisting the lure of purchasing Star Wars action figures for Vince, especially since Vince is taking to it like a duck to water. Isn’t that funny? He learned about Star Wars 3 weeks ago and practically has memorized every characters name, declared favorites and is thrilled that Daddy and him have a ‘date’ to watch the movie in the next few days…

Total digression, I know, but sometimes a Star Wars digression is worth it. More so when ones child declared to Santa that he wanted a Jabba the Hutt present from Santa and sent Daddy scrambling to eBay to hunt one up since it is not possible to find anything like that 10 days before Christmas. Ha!!

Anyways, so I find myself in a pleasant situation of not needing to do any more shopping. Which is a relief since I don’t want to. I barely mailed cards out this year and feel like a huge holiday slacker. And I don’t care.

I couldn’t have appreciated it any more than today when I woke up WAY too early to the sound of someone crying “I HAVE TO DO A POO!” at some ungodly hour. Preceeded by a coma-like sleep which started last night at about 8:30 when I passed out on the couch trying to spend a nice evening with E watching a movie together.

So pretty much I’m a big, tired loser. But while I’m that, I’m also a stress-free loser because of our mini-opt out.

And guess what? I’m going to bed. Right now. Before I coma-out on the couch again…

xoxo a.m. (

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Where I regret being smug and other things…

Click me. I'll make you read about pregnancy. Don't mind my repeated spelling errors....

First let me just say that this pregnancy is a total bitch.

A migraine, hormone-laden son of a total m-fing bitch. And typing that really feels like a glorious, orgasmic release…

I feel kind of embarrassed when I think back to being pregnant with Vince. God, I was so smug. I felt great, ate healthily and slept well. ALL THE TIME.

Probably because I wasn’t a parent yet. I just was a dog-parent, which while counting somewhat, doesn’t actually count in the realms of sanity.

So now that I feel crappy, tired, hormonal, angry/happy all the time plus I have a little person to keep an eye on? Gah. I’m just a mess. A big ol’ mess.

Ok, enough of that blather… I’m alive, and really I’m fine. Honestly.

Vince, on the other hand, is developing some interesting new actions. And by interesting I mean a combo of ‘annoying’, ‘odd’ and ‘oh please let it end soon’. It’s almost a one-two punch.

First there is a bi-monthly event of the nightmare. This is carefully timed to achieve optimal impact by aiming for the nights that Mummy and Daddy are extra tired/crappy feeling. And the result of the nightmare is that Vince ends up in our bed, neither of us are able to sleep with him. It is impossible. This last time was Friday night. He woke up at 11:50 pm crying and crawled in with us.

And proceeded to ask to play Angry Birds. Repeatedly. I ended up in his little bed with my body pillow where I didn’t sleep for 5 hours and woke up to the sound of Vince discussing Angry Birds with Daddy at 5:30 am.

And then there is his ‘sensitive ears’. A lovely new development over the last few weeks. Apparently pretty much everything is too loud. Unless he really really likes it, then it’s fine. A lot of things are too loud. Like the toilet flushing, Mummy talking, Chewie barking. But surprisingly Angry Birds at full volume is never too loud. In fact, it appears to consistently be too quiet.

I am quite sure that this kind of behavior is on par with ‘three’ and am trying to not be too surprised by it. Or really overreact at all, just correct the behavior and try not to make too big a deal of it. Lord knows this does not need to be encouraged.

In the realm of real life, I honestly cannot believe that Christmas is less than two weeks away. And that I am in my third trimester. And that the nursery is painted and awaiting a new little love that will arrive in less than 12 weeks.

Don’t worry, my brain is glossing over it all like its been doing when I try to bring up any details of what going into labour was like. It’s just slipping right over it all, moving right on to having a 6 month old.

Well done brain! Just the way I like it!

xoxo yours in sleeplessness a.m.

 

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Sex and the toddler

My pregnancy evoked an interesting development in our house today, one I guess that was to be expected but, at the same time, one that I was not really thinking I’d be exploring this particular Sunday.

Please to read my conversation with my son:

“Mummy? Is the baby in your tummy?”, Vince asked as he walked deliberately towards me.

“Yes Sweetie, the baby is in my tummy”, I responded absent-mindedly.

“Is it in your bottom tummy, here?” he asked as he patted my lower stomach area, “Or is it up here”, he continued as he patted higher up on my tummy.

“The baby is all in here, all around”, I responded, rubbing my belly in a circular motion. I was totally engrossed in rereading ‘The Host’ by Stephanie Meyer and not really paying much attention.

“If the baby is in here, then what is this Mummy?” Vince asked as he inquisitively patted my breasts.

Well, that got my attention. And I actually put down my nook. AND I made a face.

Because really, I had no idea where to go with this one. I glanced over at Edward, who was in the kitchen making some much needed coffee. He got in late last night and from the looks of it REALLY REALLY needed to drink that coffee before I involved him in anything like this.

While I was stalling, Vince kept going:

“What are they Mummy? Are they elephants?? Are they teddy bears? Are they giraffes?

Good lord, he thought he was funny. And I kept having to swipe little hands off my chest, where they were apparently planning on parking for the day.

I looked over at Edward: “A little help please?! What did you want to call these?

He mouthed “Fun bags” at me with a smirky grin. Ass. Clearly the  coffee had done it’s trick. And clearly I was hitting this one solo.

“Well, they are Mummy’s… ahhh… boobies…”, I said with a wince. Saying that sentence out-loud made me feel like the lamest, oldest, lame-o ever in the history of lame. Geez-us. And while I was saying that word out-loud, I looked over at Edward who  was making a disapproving face at me. He apparently did not approve  of my word choice.

But that was ok, because V said “Your Boo-boos?” and I leapt on it like it was a raft and I was drowning.

“Yes!!! Booboos!” Probably I didn’t need to shout it so loudly. And then the moment passed, he stopped touching my chest and the morning progressed…

Holy touch and go Batman!

And I think we are going to leave them as ‘booboos’ for the time being. Easier, no? I am quite aware that this subject will come up again. Actually, I am surprised that this is the first time we’ve had to address it. I might need to get one of those age appropriate sex books. Or something. Gah. Can’t he stay ignorant forever? I don’t really need to tell him about this kind of stuff, right?

I think I’ll just sweep it under the rug for the time being… K? Shhh, don’t tell…

xxoo a.m.

 

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Round. Er.

Frilly pants freak out!

So a few weeks later, I am back. A little rounder and feeling more content. Did I mention rounder? Round. Er.

Quite a few things have transpired in the last little, transforming things. I think the hugest of these is finding out that we are expecting a sweet baby girl. To be honest, I really was excited for whatever sweet little baby we were having. And to be honest, I secretly hoped, in my heart of hearts that it would be a girl. And to be really honest, I really thought it was going to be a boy.

We found out 3 weeks ago and I still am not totally adjusted. Even though I have quite the list of girls names, I am still clinging to the boys… I was so sure it would be another little man that I was way more involved with considering that gender.

So with baby steps I am realizing what the other side of the gender equation holds for me.

Obviously pink is a big draw. Tights are going to be huge. Today I realized hair accessories and possible ballet classes. Last week I went to Ross and browsed the girls section and just about broke down. Everything had cats, sparkles, ruffles on the bottom and frills.

My mind was completely blown.

This past weekend, I bought paint for the nursery and browsed a completely different colour spectrum. It was quite surreal.

And of course, the biggest departure will be less penis cleaning. What a thrill! (I know  you are secretly thrilled for me).

It’s a huge mental adjustment and I am just dusting the surface of what this will really mean. In a way it feels like I am about to become a parent again for the first time. And yes, I am bordering on the dramatic. It’s just what I do, no control over it…

My awful headache/migraines are slowly decreasing, which I think is in direct proportion to how much caffeine I am drinking (when combined with my headache meds). My doc gave me the go ahead to add some coffee or soda to the prescription he gave he to help give them a little boost and since then it’s been much more effective. Still have the headaches 4 or 5 times a week, but it’s a little more manageable…

Anyways, things are feeling peaceful. Baby is feeling busy. Vince is feeling extra chatty and proclaims things like “Look Mummy! I’m a pineapple!” and “Watch me! I’m a hot dog! With mustard!”

I feel a resurgence of bliss and joy and am welcoming both with open arms. I am quite certain I will never let them go…

xoxo a.m. (Baby girl! Freak out!)

 

 

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Why bingo should never be played by toddlers

A hectic Saturday is always a good thing. Especially following a giant poo of a Friday exhaustion-wise. We all slept like a bunch of bad ass mother-f’ers. That had done a bunch of bad ass mother-f’ing things. Or I did anyways.

Vince had his last soccer game this morning followed by an epicly chaotic soccer celebration. It misty-rained through-out the whole game and Vince was his bipolar-Gemini best/worst. Post-game, we gathered in the cafeteria @ the Y for treats and each little soccer player was paraded out on stage and given a trophy. It was a wonderful end to 10 weeks of what I was pretty sure was going to be hell.

Our second stop of the day was on the other side of town, near one of my girlfriends house. Last year, we took the kids to a fall festival in Oakland, which is a little town a few miles from Winter Garden. It’s kind of a Halloween-slash-Fall festival, with a little bit of town pride thrown in. Very kid oriented, with lots of activities for the little ones.

Vince dove right in. He made a trick-or-treat bag, he painted a pumpkin, he ran around and played a bunch of very silly games. He ran himself ragged on the playground. He ate popcorn and cotton candy. He got cranky and started to turn into a bit of a beast.

And as this beast was manifested itself, I decided to use our last game tickets (which were for bingo).

In retrospect, what on earth was I thinking. Seriously. Three year olds do not need to learn how to play bingo.

It was awful. He wanted to colour the whole card. He wanted to colour numbers that didn’t exist and then got mad at me when I couldn’t find them. He wanted to sit on my lap, he wanted to get off, he wanted to sit on my lap again, he wanted to sit in his own chair, he wanted to sit on just one of my knees, he wanted to sit on the other knee. I wanted to pull my hair out.

We were both covered in marker by the time someone else won. And thank god they won quickly, because I honestly wasn’t sure how much more I would be able to take. And looking over at my friend with her 3 year old perched on her knee, I could see she was in complete and total agreement.

We left. Quickly.

What on earth was I thinking! Bingo? Toddler? This is the worst equation ever. Even trying to describe it still doesn’t come close at all to what the reality of it. My mother sent me a message that said something along the lines of “I did the same thing with you, only it was checkers…”

Ugh! Mum! Checkers? If I had any doubts about us being the exact same person, they were immediately dispelled upon reading that note. Checkers might be the 1970’s equivalent of my bingo experience.

Anyways, I will never do it again. I swear.

V went to sleep so quickly this evening, how delightful! I do so enjoy a busy Saturday…

xoxo a.m.

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Sleep please.

This is what my brain looks like right now...

Let me tell you all about last night.

First though, let me just say I am in an exhaustion coma. M-f’er am I ever tired. So is Edward. Vince is totally passed out. Which is really not that surprising.

Late last night, we awoke to the sounds of terrified wailing. Which quickly turned into shrieking. And then turned into sobbing. By the time the sobbing was going on, both of us were sufficiently awake to actually move and respond.

I got up and opened his door.

“Muuuuummmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyy….. I wanna stay with you, in your bed. I wanna go Mummy, let’s go.”

We calmly and orderly proceeded to the big bed. Whereupon Vince closed the door himself and climbed up into the bed and settled down right into my spot. And refused to move. Even a little bit. And then he told me to go sleep in his bed.

Guess what? I did. I was so tired. And about 2 minutes into that, he started shrieking for me. Despite Daddy being right next to him. And so I was lured back to bed. I went as docile as a lamb. I think it was about 2:30 am at this time. I was slowly turning into a zombie.

Finally, with the addition of Vince’s own pillow and a sippy cup of water, he settled down.

“Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mum, Mum, Mummy.”

“Yes?”

“When it rains we use an umbrella so we can get the rain off.”

“Yes baby, that’s right.”

(Oh please kill me now)

“Mum, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mum, Mum, Mummy.”

“Yes love?”

“We do a poo and pee in the potty and not in out pants.”

“That’s right baby.”

“Mummy, Mummy, Mum, Mum, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.”

“Yes?”

“Halloween’s coming and I’m going to be a dragon.”

“Oh.”

Edward did not respond to any of this, mostly likely because he was not being addressed. I heard him snoring at one point and thought “You lucky, lucky bastard”.

Bastard.

And then somehow we were sleeping. And when I woke up next, it was morning and Vince’s feet were in my face.

Somehow the day progressed and is now over. Edward and I are on the couch watching ‘Attack the Block” and I’ve now been told to go to bed.

Mmmmmmmm, tired blog tonight….

xoxo a.m.

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The one where Vince forgets about the potty

Putting potty training on the back burner, Vince turns his energy to something more practical...

Some days I fear I will literally drown in urine and feces. And by some days I mean yesterday.

I haven’t talked about potty training in a while, mostly because things are going like clockwork. (Almost) everything is ending up in the potty where it should and not in anybody’s underwear.

From time to time, we get these minor incidents. Yesterday, we just had a series of major incidents. Just strung together, like pearls. I think if I imagine it to be a beautiful thing, it will be. Or, at least by imagining it as anything other than what it is, it softens the blow of awfulness.

“Mummy, I have to do a poo”, Vince announced rather loudly while I was in the middle of an empty post office, engaged in a transaction involving a parcel. All the staff politely ignored this statement, I paid and we went straight to a nearby gas station to use the potty.

It was here that I discovered the event that needed to take place in the potty had, in fact, already taken place. And so, in what apparently was the most revolting gas station bathroom ever, I cleaned poo out of underwear and slid a new pair on Vince’s little bottom. I don’t even know when I put a spare pair in my handbag, but thank god for them.

This event out of the way, we proceeded on to IKEA. Vince went potty 3 times in a time-span of about 15 minutes. I blame the Gatorade. I admit it is rather frustrating to start shopping 3 times and then have to quickly stop and rush to find a potty. And at IKEA there is one on each floor.And we were near neither. So each time, there was a wee bit of overflow. Nothing major, all part of the territory.

Since we weren’t planning on being there for long, I let it slide. I know, I know. Just don’t even say it. 10 minutes later, we were heading back to our side of town with a short trip to the grocery store planned. And after scoring a sweet parking spot, I swung around to unbuckle V and encountered the wettest wet pants ever. And then I swung back around into the drivers seat and headed home to sort that all out.

“Where do we go poo and pee?”, asked Mummy.

“In the POTTY!!!”, shouted Vince, in a jolly kind of manner.

“Do we go peepee in our underwear?”, asked Mummy.

“NOOOOO!! That’s for babies. I’m a big boy and I go pee and poo in the potty and get a lollipop”, Vince singsonged.

“Um, yes”, said Mummy, mentally planning to get more lollipops.

And so, after all of this peeing and pooing all over Orlando, finally it all came to an end. I feel like we have entered a period of regression this past week. Vince has been unusually whiny, there’s been extra fighting and crying. Tons of really, really fake crying actually. Way more than usual. And now all of this, and yesterday was not the first incidence this week.

It must mean something big is coming, some crazy big development Vince-wise. Perhaps he’s going to start doing fractions? Or suddenly draw perfect circles?

Can’t shake the feeling that I should be scared….

xoxo a.m.

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Keeping secrets (not very well)

Viking bite their own toenails? Surely not!

Did you know that three-year-olds keep secrets?

I did not. They are three, after all. What could possibly be going on in their life that they wouldn’t tell you about? Or that you wouldn’t know? I’m not sure about you, but Vince tells me EVERYTHING, even things I maybe didn’t want to hear…

When he has to pee, how big his poop is, whom he played with both in and outside preschool. Did you know that Vince has inside and outside friends? Or so he told me… “Abby’s my inside friend, but I play with Gabriel outside”. Who the hell is Gabriel is what I want to know?? He’s been a hot topic of conversation for the last week and a half, only as an ‘outside friend’ though.

Anyways, my point is that every second of his life is an open book that he is reading out-loud non-stop.

So how did I miss that he bites his toenails?

His TOENAILS. He bites them. With his teeth.

And the reason I know this is last weekend, Vince came whining out of his room complaining of an owie on his toe. Since he had only been up for a short time, I asked him what happened thinking he had maybe stubbed his toe of something like that.

“I just was biting my toenails and then I got an owie”.

“Oh.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because, frankly, that was not really the answer I was expecting. And I might have made a shocked face. Ok, I DID make a shocked face. And then a gross kind of face.

“Honey, did you bite your toes?”

“Mummy, I just bite them a little.”

“Don’t bite your toenails, its yucky.”

I don’t even know when this started. I mean, I do cut his nails. Honestly!

I guess he took matters into his own hands. It makes me wonder what other things are going on behind my back. And then it makes me worry just a little at where this could be leading…

What could be next? Nail biting? Late night 2% milk sessions in the kitchen? Unhitching the safety gate at the top of the stairs and sneaking down for some elicit Mickey Mouse marathons? Ack!

And this is just the pre-school bad behavior. Once he hits elementary, I bet he’ll go big time. Collecting bellybutton lint in little jars, hoarding his fingernail clippings, shaving all his body hair and bagging it up… (this is what I equate toenail biting with).

Ugh. Am I blowing this out of proportion? Naw… I can tell you this though, I will be monitoring those nails like they’re a juvenile delinquent posse. For Reals. (And I will also stop saying ‘for reals’ right now. For reals reals.)

xoxo and sweet toenail biting dreams…

a.m.

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Leu Gardens and a sack of potatoes

Early this morning, I roused the ‘troop’ while Daddy slept on and attempted to sneak out of the house. In retrospect, I probably should have been completely ready to go before I got Vince up.

Instead I brushed my teeth and slapped on some make-up while Vincent whispered things like this “MUMMY, YOU BRUSHING YOUR TEETH??” “MUMMY, CAN YOU PUT MY UNDERWEAR ON?”

“Honey, shhhh, use your quiet voice. Daddy’s sleeping”

“OK MUMMY!! I”M BEING VERY QUIET!”

Surprisingly Daddy did not move during all of this, but I’m pretty sure he was faking it.

V and I dashed out to Dunkin Donuts to grab some muffins and coffee. And some chocolate milk. You know, because it’s Sunday and why not start the day on the proper kind of note. I still cannot get over the fact that there is a milk product out there called ‘TruMoo’ and that I bought it. (In my defense, Vince picked it out and it was the only milk product they sold) Seriously. TruMoo??!  America please. You are doing it to yourself. Just stop it already.

Anyways, my very nice in-laws came over and we headed to Leu Gardens nice and early. Today was promising to be rather hot and so the earlier the better.

What a beautiful walk. What gorgeous grounds… Huge Oak trees dripping with Spanish moss everywhere, green everywhere. Really sharp, crisp and slightly damp green. Meandering pathways leading who knows where. I think we managed about 1/2 of the grounds before V started demanding “Mummy pick me! Pick me Mummy!” and carrying a 40 lb sack of potatoes when hot and humid sucks.

Best part of the morning? One of the groundskeepers called Vince ‘Sir’ and invited him to come over and see her release some newly ‘hatched’ butterflies from a small containment area. (Do they hatch? That feels wrong when I type it) She very carefully explained about how they needed to pump blood into their wings before they were ready to fly and then she unlatched the butterfly house. About 5 beautiful monarchs swept out and fluttered past us. It was quite an exit. For a moment, I felt like I was somewhere else entirely…

I highly recommend hitting the gardens for a jaunt with the family. And it is in close proximity to a variety of nice places for lunch afterwards. Hit up their website for a list of upcoming events including Date Night (once a month) and a fun, spooky Halloween event scheduled for October 28… For Mums with a bit more free-time, there is Storytime too.

Mmmhmmm, I am loving me some gardens…. Go love them too!

xoxo a.m.

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Monkeys equal terror. Apparently.

Vincent was not impressed when Mummy brought the monkeys home...

This Monday past was the first day of school for our area in the States. It always strikes me as funny to see the kiddos head back in the middle of summer, while the majority of North America waits a few more weeks. Oh Florida, you make me shake my head sometimes…

So with much pomp and circumstance, Vince headed back to daycare on Monday. His daycare is really more like a pre-school. It’s uniformed, arranged in classrooms and there’s a curriculum, so it really feels more like dropping him off at kindergarten than anything else.

He got a new blanket for his cot and today he told me it was ‘super snuggley’. We picked out some new socks, underwear and shorts. We bought school supplies. He got a new ‘dragon’ and a new puzzle as back-to-school presents. And I took him to Downtown Disney as a treat this past weekend.

Downtown Disney is kind of a Disney-lite shopping experience, where you can buy merchandise and various shops, wander around, eat, watch a movie, maybe go to Cirque du Soliel… I can pass it off as going to Disney, if I hype it just right.

So we cruised around (and might I add it was hot as balls?? It was.), checked out some toys in the shops and pondered where to eat… There are 2 big restaurants aimed at kids. The Rainforest Cafe and the T-Rex Cafe. I don’t think I need to elaborate on them much, names should be explanatory enough, no?

Anyways, the Rainforest Cafe had no lineup so that really helped make my decision. And so in we went and were directed to a table maybe about 15 feet away from some animatronic gorillas. Vince paid no attention to them at all, mainly because A) they weren’t moving and B) he was playing Angry Birds on my phone. Our drink order went in and a few minutes later the gorillas started moving (which apparently they do in 10 minute cycles).

It was kind of cute, I thought anyways. Vince looked at them, did a double take and SCREAMED.

And while screaming “I no like dis, I no like this!!” at the top of his lungs, clawed his way OVER the table to my arms and buried his face in my neck screaming and shaking.

Oh wow. Wasn’t expecting this at all. Apparently neither were all of the families dining around us. There was a lot of pursed lip headshakes and whispers. I mentally gave them the finger since my arms and hands were busy soothing V-man.

So we left. I carried him out of the restaurant, we walked about 100 feet away and he was fine. We bought a pretzel and a lemonade. Vince told me “I no like does monkeys, dey were a wittle scawee”. Oh bless him…

Monday morning and the first day of school rolled around and we got ready to pick out our underwear for the day. I opened the drawer and reached in when suddenly: “MUMMY!! I no like dees. I NO LIKE DEES!” Vince loudly proclaimed as his little finger clutched a pair of monkey underwear. “Here Mummy, der for you”.

“Oh, shall I take these away?”, I said solemnly.

“Yes”, he replied equally solemnly.

Oh lord, did I scar my child for life? And then I followed that up by literally scarring myself with another trip to the dermatologist on Monday afternoon…. which is another story altogether.

xoxo a.m.

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