Nurture, not eye-roll (or at least less eye rolling)

“Mummy!” Vincent shouted at me the other day, with real fear in his voice, “There’s a monkey in my nose!”

And what, you may ask, does this mean? It means he has a booger.

……..

Exactly.

About a year or so ago this phrase evolved, probably from me saying something ridiculous like “You’ve got bats in the cave”. I frequently say things that border on the ridiculous to both my children. Who doesn’t? Isn’t that part of parenting? Making up explanations for wee folk who don’t really understand what you are saying? Most of the time, the more creative you are the better. Once we told Vince ‘Don’t crawl around under the table because that’s where the snakes are’ and we’ve pretty much never needed to worry about him doing that in a restaurant ever again. (Yes, yes, we are awful, I know. Whatever.) So how on earth did a playful “You’ve got a monkey in your nose” evolve into something that is a cause for major concern, in my son’s eyes anyways?

Tough love and Rocket ships

Under construction…

Today is going to be a great day. I just know it I woke up knowing it. Vince woke up super chipper. Eleanor woke up with gooey smiles. Clearly the day is already earmarked to be amazing. Hopefully I haven’t just screwed myself with my overabundance of optimism.

4 weeks into being a stay-at-home-mom and things are slowly starting to improve. Last week was a week of tough love. But that tough love seems to have created a little boy who is determined to listen to me. Hallelujah! I’ll let you in on my secret.

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.

 

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!)

 

 

I’m tired. And hormonal. Party.

So today I had a bit of a meltdown, one I didn’t know I was having until I was smack in the middle of it happening. I think it started with Vince getting his head stuck in a tree yesterday.

And then there was all the dog puke and shit I cleaned up yesterday and today. As well as several other things that are too mundane to bore you with. I was, surprisingly, short-tempered with pretty much everything. And there was still laundry to do and things to clean, dinner to make and pumpkins to carve.

I had a great nights sleep and thought I was over my short-temperedness until I had been up for an hour or so. And then the dog pooped in the house again. And then Vince  was Vince. And Vince, being the Vince he is, is a smart-talking, subjective listening type of three-year old. This might be all three-year olds, I’m not really sure.

When his Pop-Pop arrived to take him to GatorLand for a few hours, I just about cried. I had so many things to do around the house, things that would go a lot quicker without my little shadow. And despite that, there was just no energy for any of it. Edward finally kicked me out of the house and sent me to the movies, alone.

Which was ok with me. I didn’t really feel like talking to people. Aren’t I a peach, eh?

Sitting in the dark, eating buttery popcorn and drinking Cherry Coke and watching Hugh Jackman and some robots fight was pretty much the cure. I mean, fighting robots! Come on! Immediate cure-all!

I think part of the problem is that it’s not a problem, it’s just life. And part of the situation is that pregnancy brings so many other interesting things to the party. And part of my personality is that despite being 5 months pregnant, I think I have the same level of energy that I did prior. Which isn’t really true.

The movie really helped. I think I’ll need to go to at least one a week in order to get through the next few months… and I’ll probably have a few more hormonal breakdowns. Stupid hormones.

xoxo a.m.

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.

 

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.

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.

Oh blessedness, I love and hate you…

Just how I like my mornings to start, full of duckings…

I awoke this morning with such a feeling of total blessedness, that I couldn’t help but be extra genki. I spun and twirled around the second floor of our townhouse, brandishing a toilet bowl brush, wiping down counter tops, throwing laundry in the wash and dryer.

Vince woke up and was in such a deliciously cheerful mood, that I instantly determined that this was, indeed, a blessed day.

He chattered happily away to himself and the dog while up on our big bed, as Edward somehow slept the morning away. How he slept through the never-ending stream of chatter, dog barks, flushing toilets, bouncing, poking, painful hugs, I have no idea. (I think he was faking it, hoping we’d leave…. Ha! Nice try! No sleeping in in our house mister!)

I blessedly went to the gym and blessedly sweated. The boys blessedly went swimming. Vince practiced plugging his nose and squeezing his eyes tight shut and dunking his little chunky face in the pool.

And then, Vince and I blessedly drove to my most favorite of all places to shop…. World Market. And while I shopped, Vince blessedly played Angry Birds on my phone to his heart’s content.

I mean really. Could this day get any better?

And the answer is no. Nope. Mostly because that small person that I was driving around with decided that they hated everything and then some.

Pausing for a quick run in to Home Depot, the following conversation ensued. I really need to remember that he is 3 and not a teenager.

“Mummy, I’m just going to stay in the car”.

“No honey, you’ve got to come into Home Depot with me, it’s too hot for you to stay in the car”.

“No it isn’t”.

“Yes it is”

“No it isn’t. The air is on”.

“Honey, I have to turn the air off when the car stops”.

“No you don’t”.

“Yes I do”.

etc etc etc. Isn’t it just painful to read? It was painful to experience. I didn’t let it destroy my bliss. And I didn’t scream into a paper bag, so all in all I was proud of my self-control.

Somehow, for the remains of the day, I managed to hold on to my bliss. And there were many many many things that attempted to destroy it.

And then, the most blessed of all blessed events took place. (Nope, not me caulking my shower, although that also took place this evening).

My child went to bed, mostly lured there with promises of ice cream the following day if he went to sleep instantly.

Oh bliss. The blessedly blissfulness of a quiet home, a tasty dinner and that wonderful feeling of tiredness that comes after an over-productive day….

Night oh most blessed of all blessed readers…

xoxo a.m.

Please try to not pull all your hair out, ok?

Cheerfully polishing a fry-pan, I prepared to beat myself over the head with it...

Or at least that’s what I tried not to do yesterday with Vince.

Check out my sweet parenting logic:

In order to get ones child to eat more veggies, buy more veggies. With this in mind, yesterday Vince and I hit Pubes (aka Publix) for some healthy lunch things for me. As I picked out my veggies, Vince asked “What doing, Mummy?”

Mummy: “Buying some veggies, honey.”

Vince: *curiously* “Oh! I like veggies too!!”

Mummy: “You do? Do you like broccoli?”

Vince: “No, I no like broccoli. I like veggies.”

Mummy: “I like broccoli, it’s yummy. AND it makes you strong!”

Vince: “I’m stronger! I like broccoli! I want to eat it! In my mouth!”

Ok, I can handle this. I went and bought one of those Amy’s Organic kids meals (did I mention I was about falling over from exhaustion? And that is why I bought a microwave meal for my child. The End.) Anyways, it had broccoli in it and Vince promised to eat it and the macaroni that came with.

So home we went and I ‘cooked’ dinner for him. He sort of dragged his feet at eating and I sort of ended up ‘encouraging’ him to do it. Scooping up a little spoonful of noodles, I handed it to him. “No Mummy! NOOOOOOO! I can’t eat it! It’s too much!:

?? Too much? There were precisely 3 noodles on that spoon.

“No Mummy, like dis,” he proclaimed solemnly as he proceeded to flick off two of the noodles from the spoon. “And dats enough,” he said. And then he ate ONE noodle.

And then he ate ONE more noodle. And then he ate individual noodles for 5 minutes. I swear I was almost bald by the time dinner was over. It was the only way I could remain patient. And sane. I might have moaned out-loud repeatedly.

And then? He refused to eat broccoli.

“No Mummy, YOU like veggies. You eat it.”

Alright FINE.

I will baldly eat YOUR broccoli and enjoy it, dammit. DAMMIT!

xoxo a.m.