No

Last week I watched V stand in the living room, shake his hand at the dog and shout (actually shout!) “Da! Daaaaaa! DAAAAA!!!” at him. The first time it was funny, as was the second time actually. Quite funny too. The third time he did it, I realized it was a little familiar.

Familiar as in it was something I did all the time.

“Chewie. No. CHEWIE!. NO!” I shout. All the time. And then, when that doesn’t work, I say in my most calm of voices “Chewie. No, buddy. GET. DOWN” (Please visualize  him frantically barking and jumping back and forth on top of my arm-chair near the window, freaking out at everyone and their dog (literally) who walks by. Or walks near. Or near-ish.

Pain. In. My. Ass.

Apparently I shout at him a lot. AND shake my finger, just like V was showing me. I do it often enough that V is now an expert at it as well. And I am not sure that I like the image that is being displayed.

So that made me think about things. About how much we pick up from our parents, what kind of lessons we learn as children that shape our world today. It really made me examine my own actions… and then look at my personality and see if I could see my parents actions reflected in that.

It was very insightful. I saw interesting reflections of both parents in my temperament and actions. I’ll just keep those thoughts to myself for now.

How much of this is genetic and how much of it is learned actions? I swear I feel some of my beloved Gran in me, especially these last few weeks when I am rather a lot ‘flighty’. More so than usual. Yikes! There might be more Gran in me than I thought! Not that that is a bad thing. I just wish it was accompanied with a bigger chest and more glamour. Like Gran.

I digress…

Oh, how I am like my mother. Might as well just have cloned her. And then made me. But added more sarcasm, made her slightly more high-maintenance (here, M would chime in with ‘a lot’) and added about 40% of Father Gilbert. And then you have me.

Higher on the maintenance level than I would like to think I am (I think I am pretty low… M disagrees A LOT), cleanliness obsessed, no patience for crap, bullsh*t or any of that crap, hard to know. Mostly because am not interested in knowing you that much. Unless you show interest in knowing me. Then I am interested. And that is because of the shyness and poor self-confidence issues.

Oh internet, how you bear and handle my confidences…. You are like the ultimate secret diary.

V is on the path to becoming an interesting combination of M and I.

Eve…

I have approximately 7 minutes……. That is precisely how long my delicious orange-vanilla Genoise cake has left to cook in the oven.

I am being adventurous this year and am making a french recipe for Buche–de-Noel that I found online and am really hoping that it will be delicious and look exactly like it does in the picture (complete with meringue mushrooms….. which I might even attempt…). V is down for a nap which is how I have time to try this out. M is out doing his Xmas shopping. Without fail every year he does the majority of it on Christmas Eve and complains to me that he can’t believe how busy it is (!!!!!!).

The house is clean, the tree is lit and I am watching a James Bond marathon on telly in my pj’s feeling very relaxed…

(3 minutes!)

Quick observation on parenthood related to incidents that M and I just had recently..

In M’s case, the other day he was playing with V, when he threw-up directly on his face….. some of which got precariously close to his mouth. M nonchalantly wiped it off and continued with what he was doing. He confessed to me later that he was really surprised by his reaction….. I think he thought he was going to be more grossed out that he was…

(Timer! Be right back)
Holy dear god does that cake ever smell good………

Anyways, my incident happened this morning as I was getting ready to give wee V a bottle. He was starting to get fussy, which is generally what happens when he is getting tired and it was getting close to his morning nap time.

I picked him up out of his high-chair, where he was playing with a sippy-cup (in my hopes that he would figure out that there is juice in there and start drinking from it even though I gave it to him for the first time about 3 hours ago….but I digress). I was holding him facing towards me and I lifted him up over my head to give his pants a sniff (as this is what us parents do) and he apparently didn’t like this move as he threw up right on the top of my head. RIGHT ON THE TOP OF MY HEAD.

I started laughing hysterically (something which I apparently do a little more often than I did pre-parenthood), which made V smile and giggle…. in the meantime baby-puke is slowly dripping down my scalp on to my neck, and the spit-up that managed somehow to miss the top of my head and hit the floor is being diligently cleaned up by our chihuahua.

Please try to imagine that scene:
Me, covered head to toe (literally too!) in baby-puke, laughing uncontrollably in my living room, with V grinning at me, while our dog frantically licks the carpet surrounding my feet….

Well, what do you do?? I gave V a bottle and then put him down for his nap…… then took a shower, washed the puke out of my hair and decided to bake this darn cake!

It really is amazing how things change with a child. Probably in the past this would have grossed me right out, but now I could care less and in fact ignore it. In the grand scheme of things its just really not that important. Besides, I love my little man too much to even be bothered by him throwing up on me!