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.

Two

Did you know that M and I will have been married for 5 years next month? And also that V will be 2 years old in June.

To me, both of these things are rather exciting but, mostly, I am in shock.

Not so much about number 1 (that man is locked in forever)but definitely number 2. Number 2 is going to be 2! Although really he’s number 1. So number one is going to be 2… (my mind is giggling right now, it’s usually in the gutter anyways…).

Anyways, things have been changing over here in the last week or so. A sign of things to come? Of schedules to be disrupted?

It started off Sunday. My fault. Back from Spin class and feeling full of energy, I showered, shaved and felt alive. It was 3 pm and he was still sleeping. As far as I was concerned, that was too late to be sleeping and if he slept longer we would totally be f’d in the A.

So I woke him up. Sweetly, of course, and with many a gentle whisper and caress. Would you like to guess how all of my sweet efforts were greeted? With huge gulping, sobbing, wet, gasping cries. With big head-shakes at the mention of ‘Daddy’. And ever further head-shakes and wailing ‘Noooooo’ ‘s at the mention of Chewie the dog.

And the crying didn’t stop there. It continued for a good 15 minutes. And the day didn’t get any better from there. M just looked at me, gave me a total side-eye.

The rest of the day was just a huge, whiny, temper-tantrumy mess. So was the evening. So was dinner. And so was bath-time.

Bath-time was actually so bad it was kind of funny. Lowered into the lovely tub, all he did was wail from the time his feet touched the water. And then he tried to climb out. And then, when he couldn’t, he proceeded to wail and wail and wail like he was being scalded (which he wasn’t, for the record).

And bedtime that followed wasn’t much better. In fact, bedtime took place at 6:45, 8 pm, 10 pm, 11 pm and 1 am.

And Monday night wasn’t much better.

Tuesday was a slight improvement.

Happily Wednesday night was fine and so was Thursday.

So what the hell was all of that? In 3 months, he’ll be 2. Is it that? He’s getting quite opinionated. He will no longer ‘Moo’ on command. This disappoints me.

On the other had, he is developing a delicious sense of humour that is so infectious I just want to nibble on him. The giggles, the cheeky smiles, the mischievous looks and the endless “tic-el-tic-el-tic-el-tic-el” noises that he makes…

So if this is the terrible twos, I’ll take it.  Those grins make those weary nights worthwhile…

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.

Neb Ninja

Just another post about nebulizers. This must really get boring for you to read about, but seriously. I have to vent about them.

Back at the Dr suddenly last week (due to a awful cough), we are back on the neb, different medication and 2x a day treatments. Discussing the previous issues with the nebulizer with V’s Dr, she offered some options. Try something different but slightly similar, or try the neb again. Since he was literally an angel taking a treatment at the office, I felt confident that we would be able to continue this at home!

So Tuesday night, treatment time and again, so well-behaved. I was in shock. Lollipops really work!! Is that all it really took? I can’t believe I scoffed at them and their magical powers, without even really giving them a chance.I was thrilled with his behavior. I bought a huge bag and happily planned things that would work as ‘distractions’ while we did treatments.

Day 2 of the ‘treatment’ didn’t go so well. We only managed 1 as opposed to the 2 we were supposed to do. But I figured that was better than nothing. And his cough was loosening up, he didn’t sound that wheezy, so not so bad.

Day 3? Forget it.

Disaster.

M did treatment in the AM and we double-teamed in the PM. Apparently my ideas of ‘distractions’ collide with reality:

Sesame Street.

Elmo books.

Gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. Lollipops. Squeezey fruit packs (Celine, these did not go over well). Juice boxes. Giving neb treatments to the dog (not really), Daddy (ditto) and whatever was nearby.

Please picture reality colliding with all of these things and then exploding all over them.

This evening he cried until he literally was red-faced. As soon as I let him escape my lap and those feet hit the carpet, he clapped his hands. He was so happy to be free from the neb. He clapped and clapped.

I might have commented previously on how V has taken the trait of ‘stubbornness’ from both M and I, so it’s multiplied. Not such a good thing. As evidenced every time I try and hold his hand when we cross the road. He not only doesn’t want to, but crouches down and tries to pull his hand out of mine. This results in a lot of crouches and stopped traffic.

Man. Nebulizers are exhausting. How on earth I am expected to fit these into a day, I don’t even know. I feel overwhelmed.  But concerned at the same time. I want to make sure that Little Man  is a healthy beast, but.. well…. I think I really should just be feeling grateful that this is the most dramatic of health issues that we are dealing with at the moment. Other familys are dealing with so much more…

And I can think of one in specific (Joa xoxo), so it easily puts my health issues in the backseat of my crappy Hyundai. And lets them just sit there. And maybe have a juice box since they are cranky from being on the back burner(ish). Juice boxes make everything better.

Oh Nebulizer, how we want to love you. Can you just please love us back?

xoxo a.m.

Hallo-Weenie!

Post-Halloween over here, and the dog and I are chilling…

V was a marathon runner this year. Costume choice was decided last year and at that time was based on the fact that babies look cute in shoes. About one month ago, V learned to walk and so the costume suddenly became a way better one. How funny to see little man dressed up as if he is about to do a runner and then it watch him do one down the sidewalk!

I thought it would be hilarious…

It was. When I ever thought a headband would stay on his little head, lord only knew… But for the 30 seconds it was on, it looked awesome.

7 pm and little man was in bed. Tuckered out from the excitement of the evening. He got 5 pieces of candy (that I will eat for him).

I feel weird about giving my child candy. Apparently, I have no problem giving other peoples kids treats (as illustrated by the way I thrust it upon those trick-or-treaters), but I had a hard time even giving V a lollipop. It just seems wrong… Cupcake (that I have made for him), yes. Laffy taffy, no….

I proceeded to get knocks on the door until 9:30, despite an apparent strict policy  regarding front porch lights being on (indicating that you are participating). I turned mine off at 7:15, when I was about to run out of candy. Just as my mother-in-law left and I let the dog loose again.

Poor Chewie, barking his face off upstairs, locked in a room. The second I let him out, he became uber guard dog.

He is a chihuahua. And rather self-important.

Thank you Chewie for providing me with an excuse to not answer the door after 7:30.

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.

Memories…

I can’t remember a damn thing.

Now. Partially this is genetic. And partially it’s a ‘I’m getting older’ thing. Although, since I am in my early thirties, that excuse might not fly as high as I would like it too.

Lately (and by lately, I mean the last 4 or 5 months), I have been noticing my memory  is severely lacking. Not in the “I am living in this house with….. who?” kind of department, but more like a “Where did this pen that I am holding come from… I swear I wasn’t holding it 5 seconds ago..”.

Now I had been falling back on that old ‘I have mom-nesia’ thing. BUT. THEN. I read an article in a parenting mag that states that there was a ‘study’ done, indicating that parenthood/mothering is not related to memory loss… or something to that effect. I always believe what I read in magazines. Or, at least I do for about 30 minutes, then get annoyed…
And so I was like “WHAT?!?! It’s not?!?! Huh. Wonder why I can’t remember anything?…… wait a minute… Parenting magazine does not speak the truth all the time… Bastards. “(Bastards is my current favorite word)

Anyways, so for about 30 minutes there I wondered what really was wrong with me. Then at the 31 minute mark, I decided it really was just parenthood. Oh, and combined with first-time home-buying as well. The nastiest of all nasty concoctions. Yuck.

So it is ok that I am holding things in my hand and I am not sure where they came from.

Also it is ok if, at work, I pick up and put down things at a dizzying rate all over the office. And then suddenly run out of pens (that’s what I pick up and put down). Or buy fish and then forget it in the fridge at work. Or day after day walk out of the office, drive half way home and then realize that I forgot all of those boxes that my co-workers have been saving for me at the back door.

And there are a million things more. I just can’t seem to keep my head on straight. I drop things. I knock things over. I enter rooms. Stop. Wonder what I am doing, walk out of them and then 1 minute later walk back in and grab my cell phone.

It is a truly sad state of affairs right now. Punctuated by a continued lack of caffeine (for health purposes).

Glorious

The crazy Summer of 2002 and its Brazilian beach parties gradually ushered in one heck of a cold fall. Hamamatsu gets pretty windy.

Housing insulation…well…lets just say that it is not a priority. Thin walls, lack of central heat equals a very cold apartment.

With the cold fall, M’s Dad arrived and his visit was a highly anticipated one, both by M and by the school that we worked for. There were no end of eager students practically lining up to entertain him when he arrived. B, on the other hand, had his own ideas about what he would be doing… One day, I believe M woke up to find a note informing him that he (Dad) was heading to the train station (possibly on foot) to take the train up to Tokyo. And that he would call him later…

I peppered M with questions “Where’s he going? What’s he doing?” etc etc…. M replied “…not sure…” and that was the end of that conversation. A few days later he was back, it was the weekend and we all took a drive to see Momiji (or Japanese Maple trees in their gorgeous autumn splendor).

In case you haven’t ever witnessed their absolute glory, here is a picture from that afternoon hike that illustrates it…

Momiji 2002

It was pretty amazing. Can you see me on the side there? So we hiked all around this little mountain, up spider infested slopes and down them… under those fiery leaves and through their lightly less colourful brethren that were scattered on the ground…. We wound around and around the mini-mountainside until we came to the most interesting of bridges. Some type of suspension bridge, one of those that sways when you walk on them. I think they are awesome. M….. not so much. And B well, not at all. In fact he posed all cool and debonair and firmly on the ground, while I confidently strode out there and M followed behind… just slightly less excited than I was…

Jaime on the bridge, 2002

M on the bridge 2002... slightly less excited...

B not on the bridge and pretty happy about that....

It was a pretty full afternoon. Momiji. Glorious. Spider infested temple. Not so much. But that was evened out by amazing bridge experience (for me anyways).

That evening M joined me in my apartment (next to his) for an epic evening of boot-leg Simpsons episodes. We stayed up far too late. There might have been longing glances cast (in a behind the back sort of way…..we weren’t dating yet).

Glorious.

Lip-balm

August is officially the month of Japan.

For those who aren’t ‘in the know’, M and I lived in Japan for about 3 years.

We met. We saw. We loved. We conquered.

M and I kept our relationship a secret for quite a while… once we started dating, that is…

We were outed in the randomest of ways. Mostly due to Sohee. Thanks Sohee!!

Every night in Hamamatsu in the early 2000’s meant hitting up Amigo’s Bar. Amigos was the Gaijin Hotspot in the city. Even if you didn’t want to go there, wanted to maybe try out something different…. you still ended up there at the end of the night. Drunk.

Or you started out the night there, got lured in by Paul (the owner) and then never ever left. Suddenly it was 8 am. You have been there 12 hours, are starving and your boss drives past as you are leaving and waves (future conversation regarding how you are such an early risier).

So, early in our courtship M and I start out the night there. Meeting a bunch of friends.

I remember riding our bikes there… pausing for a make-out session….applying some lip balm, and then heading in. Who would know that lip-balm would play such a huge part in our life.

Did you know that some lipbalm glows in the dark? Well, Sohee thought she would be a sweet girl and point that out. We denied it as firmly as we could.

“I lent him some”…. I think that was my big statement. And I thought that we both were rather convincing. When you’ve been riding a bike with a beer in one hand (as you do, in your twenties in a foreign country), it is easy to imagine that everyone will believe you. And if they don’t, then clearly they must be crazy.

So there we were, in Amigos, with glowing lips. And Sohee asking us both “Um, why are your lips glowing?”

Damn her and her intuitive eyes… And damn me and my crap excuses. My extemely unconvincing excuses, poor eye contact (which probably ruined any credibility that I might have had… excuse wise I mean…) and damning body language. Leaning into someone that you are currently romancing is a very obvious sign that you are… you know…

Well, anyways…. this is just a wee intro to a lovely month of Japan reminiscence…

Please stay tuned for all things romantic and Japanese.

xoxo a.m.

Library

This afternoon, after M left for work I felt bored.

What on earth do you do with a 13 month old in Florida when it is a million degrees outside?! A MILLION. It is too damn hot mid-day to do anything outside without sweating your face off. I also do not want to go to a mall and walk around by myself. V has reached the ‘grabby’ stage, so anything that passes him on a rack, he grabs at and throws to the floor if he gets his hands on it. Like the toothpaste at Walgreens and the bread at Publix. And I still can’t go swimming as I have that fresh tattoo.

My best friend had mentioned to me earlier this week that she took her girls to the library. She was pregnant with me, so V and her little one are the same age. And she has a five year old. Apparently it was a fun-filled scream-a-thon (with the 1 year-old). So today, when I was thinking of things to do, I thought of her. And the Library.

And that was that. Off we went.

I naively thought that I might be able to find the last Twilight novel in stock. Ha!!

Instead, I chased V back and forth between bookcases, small girls that screamed “Baby” when they saw him, small stools (which equal danger) plus rescued many a bookshelf  from denuding. Many a book met the floor in a sudden and abrupt manner this afternoon.

Each book that he tossed to the floor, I added to the pile of ‘things to take home’….. as if he was choosing them himself. Which I am sure he was…

Saturdays big pick was “Bad Baby”. Well, really it was my big pick. The cover was very engaging. And the illustrations, as I flipped through it, were very appealing to, well, my husband. The style was comic-book-aficionado-like. And quite funny too.

Since I liked it (as I imagined M did…. without reading it), I am sure that V will like it too.

Random babypick is a good thing. AND there was limited screaming. Only screaming as I stopped him from crawling all over the library, chasing after those naughty girls that kept calling out to him from all areas of the library…

“Hey Baby! Baby! Baaaaaaaaaybeeeeeeeeeee! Baybeeeeee!!!!! Hey Baaaaaybeeee!! Baybe!”

At least 4 little girls, just about 3 years old, chased him all over the library with me trailing in quick succession to rescue him from the whole thing.

“Hey…. is that your baby?!”

“Yes, that is my baby”.

“Does your baby like girls?”

“Ummm”

“Your baby likes that girl.”

“What???”

“Does your baby like babies??”

“Yes”

“That girl likes your baby…..”

Right. I will try not to do that…… Great. Just a peek at things to come. Damn M and his sexy EyeTalian features. Plus a huge dollop of Canadian wholesomeness…..

Womanhood, you are so screwed in about 15 years….