Category Archives: holy mother

Is that my childs head stuck in a tree? Of course it is…

You know when you wake-up, after a good nights sleep, thinking that it’s going to be a great day? And that possibly your child’s sports practice is going to go great?

And then it all goes to hell in a handbasket?

Exactly.

I did actually have a good sleep. Apart for that time at 2:30 am where I woke up with a burning desire for Diet Coke and I HAD to go downstairs and slug it straight from the bottle. This was followed by baby kicking me for about 25 minutes. In punishment, I imagined.

And Vince woke up in a good mood. And so did I. And so did Edward. And we ate breakfast, I made a cup of tea and off we headed to soccer.

We split up when we reached the soccer field. Edward and Vince veered off somewhere and I headed over to where the parents were to say ‘hi’.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Vince headed in my direction carrying a stick, Daddy close behind him. I kept chatting. Daddy took the stick away, Vince started to make a bit of a fuss. Daddy put the stick up in one of the trees on the edge of the field, so Vince wouldn’t drag it out with him. I joked that V apparently takes after me in ‘dramatics’ according to his father.

One of the other Mum’s said something like “Ya, they do one thing wrong and suddenly he ‘takes after you’. Really.”

And the next thing I knew, Edward is yelling at me and Vince looks wrong. Wrong in the tree. As if maybe he’s stuck? Oh. My. God.

He’s stuck. His head is stuck in the tree.

“Jame, geez. I’ve been calling you FOR AGES!” E yelled at me.

“Is he stuck?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly there was a flurry of activity, men just came streaming in from all directions and all of them pried his head out of the tree. Tears were streaming down his face. One of the YMCA staff members told me that apparently kids get their heads stuck in these trees all the time.

Gosh.

I feel so much better now, thanks.

Vince didn’t really feel like playing soccer after that. At least, not when we were watching. But once out on the field, he laughed and had tons of fun. And off the field, he cried. And then, back on the field again he ran and played. Ugh. Total bipolar soccer.

And the rest of the day took its tone from Vince. It was up and down, very rapidly. With appalling behavior. And then angelic sweetness.

Oh my lord, I am exhausted from this day.

Night night xoxo a.m.

 

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Soccer and toddlers

So many things to tell, it’s hard to know where to begin.

To start, I got to see the baby this week. You know, the one in my tummy? That’s HUGE according to Vincent? Yes, that little baby.

Since I am the ripe and severe old age of 35 and am now termed ‘high risk’, there’s all sorts of fun things for me to do at the hospital testing-wise. This past week I had the Nuchal Translucency test, which is a screening for Down’s syndrome. This is pretty standard testing and so I might be on the slight dramatic edge with my ‘old age’ and ‘high risk’ comments. Just ignore me, you know it’s part of the territory (and if you didn’t, consider yourself informed).

I can attest to the fact that there is ONLY ONE BABY IN THERE. That’s for you cheeky few that keep mentioning twins. However, even at this young an age, Baby M is already a handful… Refusing to cooperate with the ultra-sound tech, Baby M twisted and turned and flip-flopped so much that afterwards the physician came in and had a quick chat with me. “Things look fine, from what we can see of them…” is not the most inspiring statement to hear from a doctor. Additional blood work was required to finalize the screen.

“Typical”, I muttered, rubbing my enormous(ly small) belly, “Still in utero and causing problems already. Clear indicators that you are a ‘Melvin’.

So that was Monday. And from there, the week took a bit of a dive. Despite being in 2nd trimester, my body decided to have a flashback to when I was feeling like toilet bowl before and basically feel like shit again. Headaches, nausea etc etc etc… I won’t bore you with the details.

On the bright side, Vince started soccer this past week. There had been a bit of a lead up to this blessed event. Some conspiracy between a friend and I to have our boys on the same team. Much discussion of playing with Vince’s little friend. Much kicking of soccer balls in the park. We bought special soccer shorts and socks. And Vince was just thrilled with all of this…

He kicked the ball endlessly all summer. He stated repeatedly ” I play soccer with Nathan”. He loved the shorts and socks with shin guards. And as we approached the field he started hanging back. And then resisting. And then crying “I don’t want to go. I DON”T WANT TO!!”

The coaches were very patient and one of them pretty much carried him around the whole practice while Vince ignored his friend’s requests for high-fives and pretty much ignored everything everyone said to him at all. I was honestly wondering if this was a good plan, figuring it didn’t even matter since we’d just stick with it for the season when, as we were leaving, he announced “Mummy!!! I had fun!!!!!!”

Oh gosh, you did??! You could have fooled me! But good. Next practice is Wednesday and the first game is Saturday. I am pretty sure that next Saturday with be an awesome, awesome disorganized mess. And I am pretty excited about it.

Ok, I think that covers it…

xoxo a.m.

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Filed under family, holy mother, parenting, patience, soccer, Toddlers

I can roar like a dragon

I think this is what my face looked like this morning...

Or so I found out this morning on my way to my in-laws house. We headed over there for some swimming and there was a rumor floating around that they would babysit while Edward and I went to the movies.

E headed off first, we followed a few minutes later.

I threw in a cd, some nice chill Sarah Harmer (that’s ‘hippy crap’ to you Fran) and it all went down hill from there.

My son disapproved of my music choice

“I no like this, I want the Danger Danger song. Mummy! I want my song! I no like this, I don’t want to listen to it. I want MY MUSIC! TURN IT OFF MUMMY!” etc etc etc

And this was combined with tears, flailing and the whiniest voice you have ever heard. IN YOUR LIFE. Unless you too have a three-year old, then you know exactly what I am talking about.

I, apparently, I left my patience on the couch. And also, one can only listen to ‘Danger Danger, High Voltage by Electric Six’ so many times before losing your damn mind.

This roar erupted out of me that actually was rather frightening. Vince must have agreed because he paused in mid-whine and burst into actual real tears, as opposed to the fake ones previous. Ugh.  I hate it when things like this happen, but sometimes they just do.

3 seconds later, we both moved on. I calmed down, V stopped crying and we hit the expressway to Sassy and Pop-Pop’s.

Once we arrived, I told V it was time to go to the bathroom.

“No, I just did it already.” Oh really. Reeeaaaallllyyy. And nope, you didn’t. Well, you did, but it was 4 hours ago. You are not a camel. So off we went to the potty amid many protestations of “I did it already” and “I don’t have to”.

I shut the door and locked it. Edwards parents weren’t home yet, but I had to go too and I always lock the door. Mistake number one, clearly.

“You don’t lock da door! YOU DON”T LOCK IT!!”

(I’m sitting on the potty)

“I don’t want to go potty!!!!!!! I don’t have to!!!!

(The door is unlocked. Did I mention I was sitting on the potty?)

“I DON”T WANT TO!!!!”

And then he opened the door. I roared just one word “OUT” and he ran.

Edward, from the other room, “Jame? What on earth is going on in there?”

*sigh* Mummy is losing her damn mind.

And then 3 seconds later, Vince announced “I wanna go potty with Daddy”. And off they went, to the potty on the other side of the house. And they returned successful, V proclaiming “Mummy! I did a super monster pee!”

And then V happily went off with his Grandparents and Edward and I went and saw Captain America.

There is, it seems, an awful lot of arguing going on in our house. Vince disapproves of pretty much everything we do and breaks out his multiple not-so-secret weapons of whining, tears and full on fits. I am clearly learning how to handle this. And it seems that I am mostly handling it badly.

Vince has been three for 6 weeks. Geez-us is this way worse than  2.

I’ll get the hang of it eventually, probably when he turns 4…

xoxo a.m.

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“Suck on my ass!” and other things unrelated to this post…

So I’m on Long Island. With the boys. And our adventure is about to begin.

We flew out of Orlando this morning, getting up way too early for my liking. I shouldn’t complain that much, my in-laws got up way, way, way earlier than we did.

Vince was shockingly well-behaved at the airport. He was shockingly well-behaved through security too. We waited nicely for our boarding call. We made frequent trips to the potty. He POOPED on the potty at the airport!! Holy Moly, this trip is awesome!!

I spent a frightening amount of time packing a backpack for Vince, filled with stickers, colouring books, a few toys, snacks, spare pants etc etc.

Funnily enough, he barely played with these things.  He did have fun with the stickers, but not in the orderly manner I was expecting. It was one of those sticker collecting books, with numbered stickers (in this case, Cars 2). All the stickers are on the cover, none are in the boos. Some might be on the plane still, decorating the tray and arm-rest. (Some are in my pocket, please don’t tell him. He was looking for them earlier). I had to restrain myself from ‘helping’ him. I might as well have just bought my own sticker book. So sad…

After a fairly uneventful trip (I cannot even believe I just said that), we are cozily ensconced in our hotel, having a beer, listening to some actor in City Slickers 2 shout “Suck it! Suck on my ass!!”

Tonight’s itinerary? Dinner with 18 close members of Edward’s family…

Ha! Wish me luck and a well-behaved son… (and then, pat me sadly on the back and tell me ‘dream on’.)

Off to squeeze in a snooze before eating more….

xoxo a.m.

 

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Filed under boys, flying with children, holy mother, parenting, patience

Please be my friend…

 

So since Vince turned 3 1 1/2 weeks ago, things seem so much different. I wonder if every parent notices this at this landmark age? And by landmark age, I simply mean a further continuation of the hell that was 2 that has now become 3.

But by hell, I really mean ‘fun’ and ‘awesomeness’.

Three is terribly interesting. Three means rather a lot of interesting conversations about a lot of interesting things.

Sometimes it’s about dinosaurs:

Vince: “Mummy hurry! The dinosaur is gonna get us!”

Mummy: “Oh my gosh, it is? What should we do?”

Vince: “We gotta hide!!”

Sometimes its just random arguments, politely worded..

Vince: “Mummy, I’m just gonna do this ober der, ok?”

Vince: “Mummy, I’m just gonna stand on dis right here.”

Vince: “Mummy, I’m just gonna take this from here.”

Mummy: “No. Vince, please don’t do that/take this/stand there.”

Please don’t open the fridge and try to pour your own milk. Please don’t carry my weights around the upstairs and state “Mummy!! I’m stronger!!” Actually, its OK that you do that. I love it. Please don’t sweep my floors. Please don’t pull the dogs tail, he will bite you for sure. Please don’t cry, I know the dog just bit you. Please talk to your Nana on Skype. Please say ‘hi’ to your Grandparents on the phone. Please, please, please…

It is just a huge, endless session of ‘please’. Mostly followed by ‘no’. Interspersed with dinosaurs and frogs attacking whomever is nearest. Frequent exclamations of “Mummy! I did a HUGE poo! Come see!” (and subsequent clapping).

Is this starting to sound like your life? Are you me? Are we the same person?

Not that I dislike it, it’s new and interesting. I like new and interesting things. I like Vince. Hence, I like this new path of ridiculous.

Today as a Lexus van drove slowly past our family walking, I thought “Based on seeing us, they probably are not going to move here”. Vince in a wife-beater with a monkey, combat shorts and dinosaur rubber boots, Edward in practically his underwear and myself in a tank-top I used to wear when I was hugely preggos and capris printed with flamingos…

Don’t you want to be our neighbors and friends? Don’t you want to share the joy of ‘3’ with us? Aren’t you already doing the same thing that we are?

We are JUST down the street. In fact, we are your neighbors already.

xoxo a.m.

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Techical error

So that post I thought I posted on Father’s Day? Um, technical error. Didn’t post. Most likely because I forgot to hit the ‘publish’ button. But that’s OK. You didn’t really want to read another blather about fathers and dads and sons and everyone all doing super things together, right??

We ate pizza and went swimming. Vince painted Daddy a picture. It was extremely sweet. So that was Father’s Day, and then Edward went to work and I went to sleep. Party.

We are gearing up for our trip to New York this weekend. I should clarify that we are not actually going to the Big Apple. We are hitting up Long Island. You know, where Lindsay Lohan is from? There.

So unfortunately Tracy, I will not be going handbag shopping. As much as I long to be ushered up staircases and behind black sheet-draped enclosures, I will not be. Vince and his cousin Chloe are getting christened together on Sunday instead.

I guess it’s a good trade-off…

Maybe someone wants to just pick me up a handbag as a christening gift to Vince? Right. I thought not.

I am pretty excited to head up North to see the family. The last time we were up there was when Edward’s other little cousin Anna was christened in 2006. Which was just a few weeks after I moved to Florida from Canada. It was a bit of a culture shock for this Canadian, which is funny to look back at.

What a transformation a polite Canadian has when confronted by 70 or so Italians who mostly are eating things that Canadians are not accustom to devouring. And I say devour because that’s what I did. Pretty much the whole time. At Edward’s Grandparents house. At that really awesome restaurant we all ate at. At Edward’s aunts house, the one with the chocolate fountain?

It’s been 5 years and I am now a corrupt Anglo-Italian. Of sorts. Or at least my son is, being as he is actually of Italian and Canadian descent. And says ‘Mummy’ and ‘holiday’ and yet, also, eats mortadella by choice and has requested salami. And is three years old.

And who’s Mummy is an epic rambler. What was I talking about? Why am I not in bed? Happy Father’s Day! Belated!

Heading to Long Island in 3 days and am terrifically excited… Don’t worry, I’ll ramble again  before then…

xoxo a.m.

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Passive aggressive arguing via Pirate…

I have, from time to time, a few bones to pick with the husband. Excusing that he does work 2 jobs, rarely has a whole day off and get approx one morning a week to sleep in, he is a pain in my ass.

Like, I imagine, all of your husbands are. And if they are not, there seriously must be something wrong with your relationship. Even though I am sure they all do awesome stuff, just like mine, I seriously swear they also all have no clue at all.

Mine will literally leave pieces of actual garbage around the house and not notice them. He will walk over them. I have actually seen him walk through a pile of dirt I have just swept up, kicking it as he walks through it. Not noticing at all.

First time (yes, he’s don’t it more than once), I shouted “Oh COME ON!!” You’ve got to be kidding me!!” I mean, its not as if all paths lead right to the dirt. There were other routes he could have taken. He, honestly, just doesn’t notice.

But, I have solved the problem. And I am pretty sure you will be extremely impressed with how I handled it.

Yesterday, Vince and I got home from HomeDepot and Edward had left just a few minutes prior. The house was a disaster. One, I am sure, he hadn’t even noticed. And I had had enough.

After cleaning THE WHOLE ENTIRE HOUSE, while entertaining a 3 YEAR OLD CHILD and FEEDING HIM DINNER.

I very gracefully wrote a note in a sort of pseudo-pirate type language and propped in up in the fridge, next to ‘dinner’.

Late last night, E woke me up on his crawl into bed. He muttered something. I don’t remember what it was, but it wasn’t about pirates. This morning on my way to work, Edward called, asked after how the rest of my morning had gone, arrived at work and did not mention pirates.

Don’t worry, I brought it up.

“Hun, did a pirate leave you a message in the fridge last night?”

“Ummhmm, seemed to be making a good point too.”

“Are you planning on listening to him? He seemed rather forceful..”

“Clearly I do. It is obviously in my best interests.”

It obviously is. Jackpot!! All suggestions will now be delivered via pirate. I highly recommend.

xoxo a.m.

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Filed under cleaning, epic, Geez, holy mother, home improvement, honey, house, Mad skills, parenting, pirates, pirates like cleanig, pirates make good suggestions, play, Uncategorized

Revenge pee

Things to Google:

Revenge Pee

And, of course, it is my son that leads me to Google things like this. The majority of knowledge I have gained from my son in the last 3 years is urine and feces related. Google is my best friend. It has helped me learn  lots of things, most of which are regarding how to remove odors and stains from various fabric-type materials.

For the last 3 weeks or so, a particular pattern has been developing. One which has, honestly, been rather hard to figure out. Periodically V will just pee. A sort of no-warning situation. Often times it’s as a result of a stressful situation, or a situation he just doesn’t approve of. Or, mostly, something he disapproves of.

Or we’d fight, he’d cry and then pee on the floor. Through his shorts. Or, I’d say no, he’d cry and then pee on the floor. Sometimes he’d just run off to a corner of the livingroom, pretend to play with his toys and then announce “Mummy. I peed. Right der.”

*sigh*

But finally I made the connection. Revenge pee. Dude.

Telling one of my friends about my theory, she thought “Did you see if there is anything online? Probably there is a Mum that has dealt with it already…”

Well, I did learn a whole bunch of interesting stuff about people who take revenge on other people by peeing on their stuff. Animals too. Not peeing on animals, I mean. Just animals that revenge pee. That’s what you get when you Google ‘revenge pee’.

When, however, you Google ‘Children pee’ you get all sorts of shizzle. Info that, frankly, I have no interest in really reading as I am living the dream and am pretty sure that all Mum’s are doing the same things that I am. There honestly is not that many actual options.

Comfort (if it was indeed an accident) or reassure.

Obviously clean up is a MAJOR part of the operation.

As of yet, there is no punishment. It is so a total ‘f-you Mummy, let me have my own way!!’ that I pretty much cannot have any real reaction. Maybe an eyebrow raise. Oh, and a Mummy-face. One that I am still perfecting as it has a 50-50 response rate.

Today was a good day though. No revenge peeing. Plus V actively asking to use the potty. AND he pooped. TWICE. ON the potty.

Despite my total exhaustion and low levels of everything (Family health issues that I will not be discussing, except to say that there are some. They make me sad. And I am trying very hard to be adult about them), V filled that potty the m-f-ing up.

Which, I admit, in hind-sight type-wise sounds a little gross, but for real. We were super high-fiving each other and I did not have to clean up any poo from any non-toilet surface today.

Now I have totally lost my train of thought. Pretty sure it’s about pee. Probably poo too. It is my life, after all.

Anyways, any tips on surviving revenge peeing?

xoxo a.m.

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Mama drama

I am a big brave girl. At just shy of 35 (why am I telling you that? Shhhh), I finally have struck up enough courage to try to make friends with complete strangers.

It actually was a New years resolution. I resolved to meet other Mum’s in the neighbourhood (even though I am crap at chatting people up), Mums that would ideally have kiddos Vince’s age thus creating a sort of impromptu playgroup.

But honestly, when does that happen in real life. I mean, clearly it happens in the movies enough for us regular Mum’s to think that it might happen to us? Of course it would! We are exactly like all those Mum’s, right? So why wouldn’t we?

But we don’t. For whatever million reasons there are.

And so, as Vince enters the age of 3, I am looking for lady friends. With benefits. Ie: you have children.

It is a whole tricky thing. It is like A) online dating, B) a blind date and C) perhaps total insanity.

So last weekend, as I was checking out a bunch of site:s I discovered, I learned, I gained knowledge. All of those groups are pretty darn private. You have to make a huge effort to show your interest in joining. You probably are going to have to answer a tons of questions about yourself.

And so I put it all out there. All of it. In a very restrained sort of way. No way do they need to know I am a book spazz, addicted to Project Runway and Top Chef and steal dirt from my father-in-law. (Ok, he surreptitiously gives it to me. Regardless). They probably also don’t want to know that I am blogging about this.

But guess what? After the several group rejects I got, plus the “We meet on Tuesday mornings at 10 am” illuminatons, what I ended up getting acceptted into is pretty nice.

So this afternoon, I met them for the first time. A bit scary. A real huge scary. And innocently enough, it ended up being just one person that I met. And somehow that seemed to be perfect.

So despite my so-called stress over this days events, somehow it worked out just right for us.

We have been accepted. Gosh that sounds dramatic and it is! It is wonderfully dramatic. And I met a new friend.

Hurray!!’xoxo a.m.

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Filed under amazing!, amusing, awkward, Big kids, exhaustion, holy mother, Home Depot, late night, Mad skills, parenting, Uncategorized

Twin Bed

A short guide to not only buying a mattress, but also to surviving the post-sale salesman small talk.

After much back and forth it was decided that the addition of a twin bed would be a good idea to the household.  We currently have a full size (or standard or what every you call it) futon convertible. But the addition of another sleeping surface is necessary. Especially considering our upcoming company. We also were considering it V’s future ‘Big Boy’ bed.

We did some price checking.  The whole usual sort of thing.

Blah blah blah… let me just skip to us pulling up to the store and add that we were actually the only car in the lot. Where the salesman parked, no idea. There was only one of him and literally no other cars in a quarter mile radius.

It took a while for us to decide.

We had to decide between the cheapest mattress they had and then the one slightly more expensive.

Let me illustrate how hard this decision was:

“Could you show me your least expensive mattress?”

“Yes… it’s right over here “, he said, slightly out of breath from the thought of a potential sale and also from running from his desk to a dark corner where he frantically tossed garbage off of a thin crappy looking mattress stuffed behind some sales props.

“Go ahead, lie down and see how it feels…. it’s, ummm, not the best”, he added, “It’s not what I’d like to sleep on. But go ahead. Lie down.”

I didn’t need to do that to know that it felt like a prison cot.

We opted for something else. I know my Mum appreciates the thought that went into making that tricky decision.

So M and V went outside to make a call and I went to pay.

With my Visa card and id on the far side of his desk and the sales screen open, Kevin proceeded to make the most painful small talk I have ever been a party to.

Here are a few topics he covered:

Farmers Markets and how they just ‘need a chance’, Puerto Ricans, his nagging dry cough, the drive he took with his wife last weekend, how he works Saturdays, why he likes fresh vegetables…

This whole conversation was actually directed at the front of the store and not at me. He just stared blankly ahead while he rambled and made no eye contact at all.

Tips:

Wait until the sales forms are completed before handing over id/credit card.

Do not let your husband abandon you while you pay.

Make sure you bring your child who will serve as a handy distraction and allow you a quick and easy exit. And also prevent ‘chatting’.

xoxo a.m.

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