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How I am still alive: A tale of survival and bleeding

I am WAY better behaved than my brother. Swear.

I’m almost through my second week of sahm-ness and for the most part, I seem to still be alive. And, by a surprising coincidence, my son is as well. (Eleanor is, of course, completely perfect and no trouble at all). While still alive, I am worn out.

While feeding Eleanor again… (and I say again, because all I did yesterday afternoon was feed her. Constantly. From about noon to 5 pm and I am not even exaggerating) I noticed a funny discoloured spot on my shirt. Continue reading

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Timebomb: A tale of bowling and jealousy

Vince woke up this morning with one thought on his mind.

Bowling.

I know right? I was thinking the same thing… What on earth??! It’s completely the fault of Scooby Doo. Or actually, my fault since I bought a few ridiculous Scooby Doo books for Vince (don’t do it!!). Books which apparently featured bowling enough that I had to explain it and since then he’s been fascinated. He’s reminded  me that I had mentioned we could go at some point.He asked again yesterday and I thought why the heck not? Sure! Let’s go bowling on Friday morning. Continue reading

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Moving forward

I am pleased to report that there have been no further poocidences since last weekend, I’m happy to move forward and to stop talking about it for as long as possible. Or at least until something awful happens again and I feel the need to share it with everyone.

And so, on that note, moving on! Continue reading

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Please save us from poo…

Image

Yup, that's pretty much how I felt about it too...

So yesterday morning started off on a good note. It was the last day of Spring Break for Edward and we had a family day planned. Vince was not going to daycare and we were all going to try and sleep just a little later than we normally do, you know, for fun.

Edward and I woke up to Eleanor’s noisy morning cries and I busied myself with feeding her. Edward interjected just before I got started with “Did you want me to feed her and you handle Vince? Or what’s the easiest for you?’ (Bless him, he’s trying to help). I shook my head no and indicated that I would prefer him to handle Vince. Total non-verbal communication-style. Yup, that’s how good our marriage is. I grunt and he translates that to complete sentences and vice versa… Continue reading

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Most of us are adjusted. Mostly. Honest.

Edward and I comprised the adjustment team in our household. Most of the time we function properly...

Ok, so I know that I said that having a second child was a piece of cake. And it is. Honestly.

Honest honest.

For the adults anyways. Should I have clarified that?

For Edward and I, adjusting to Eleanor (who is delightful, smells delicious and is, in general, gorgeous) is like nothing. We already had 9 months of me sleeping like crap, so getting 3 to 4 hours a night in a row is a total bonus. Plus, and maybe I shouldn’t say this but…, she’s perfect and so much easier than Vince ever was as a newborn.

Get this: She cries when she’s hungry. The end.

Well shit. I think I can manage that…

Edward and I have this theory that she is going to be the ‘easy baby’. Vince was a nightmare as a newborn. I have recurrent bad dreams of singing ‘He’s got the whole world in his hands’ repeatedly and watching endless infomercials on the couch. Edward and I would compare notes every morning on what we’d seen (we took turns every evening). Vince would not got back to sleep after being fed, he was always awake and miserable.

Now Eleanor? Angel! Sleeps like that’s her goal in life. I haven’t watched an infomercial in the last 3 weeks. Hopefully I can keep this up. Or she can keep this up.

So as for the adjusting… well, like I said, Edward and I are adjusting just fine. Now Vincent? Not so sure…

There is no doubt about how much he loves his sister. Every day he makes some sort of comment about how she is ‘people’ and in his family. As opposed to the dog, who is not ‘people’ but is still included in the family member count.

He wants to rock her, feed her bottles, give her a pacifier (or binkie as it’s randomly been named here). He kisses her all the time, sometimes at rather precarious angles. He pats her on the back and head and says ‘excuse me’ when she burps. He is just great with her.

And with us, he is a complete and total basketcase. So awful. Horrible. Ick. Yuck. And ‘nasty’.

He’s started spitting in the house and has spat on the dog (for no real reason we can see, poor dog) and us randomly over the last few weeks. He has completely stopped listening to us and as a result we’ve had to implement rather strict punishment. Which means that pretty much E and I are laying down the law all day, every day and it is exhausting. I hate to list his misdeeds, so just imagine everything awful that an almost 4 year old could do and that’s whats going on. Frankly, it’s a relief when the weekend is over and he goes back to school. I think he might be a tad easier to handle there, where there are more children and very strict rules that are rigorously enforced (unlike some places…).

Like my house. In case you hadn’t picked up on that.

Listening right now is a huge issue for us. As in he doesn’t. At all. Or pretends to, but does something else entirely. So you ask him to do something and his response is to ignore you. You repeat yourself several times. No response. Or my favorite response: spitting. Or something else that’s just poor manners.

A confrontation regarding bad behavior yields not that much. The only thing that’s gets his attention is to remove privileges. And that’s where you get a response. A huge ‘I’m a liar’ response:

“I’m going to be good”.

“I’m going to be nice”.

“I’m going to listen”.

It’s usually one of these followed by “Mummy, are you happy of me???”

And this one is a hard one to answer. I hope he is addressing his behavior, but since he is in preschool, I am pretty sure that I would be reading too much into the issue if I did. I certainly don’t want to tell him he isn’t making me happy, implications and all… So E and I have compromised with ‘I am not happy with you when you spit on me, but I am happy when you have nice manners’ or something to that effect. At least we can let him know his manners are bad, but we still love him.

Such a precarious balance.

And really this balancing act is what is making things a little bumpy. I like saying ‘bumpy’, makes it sound like a plane ride that is a little out of hand and will be over soon. Optimistic overtones, ya?

I’m going to keep these tones in mind over the next few weeks and try to double my smooth breathing technique and monitor my blood pressure. And drink my tea every morning and make sure my pants are pulled up properly. All of these morning techniques should make for me having a calm and even temper and, of course, make sure that I KEEP MY TEMPER IN CHECK.

Because I certainly would never let me any 4 year old get to me.

Ever.

And I still have most of my own hair.

Partial wig only, swear… xoxo a.m.

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Reflections

One week ago, Miss Eleanor Marie was born. It was a Monday afternoon, right around that time in the afternoon when you are winding down the work day. We were winding it up, man. That’s just how Edward and I roll…

As I sit here on my bed in my quiet, clean bedroom with Eleanor rocking away next to me, in the throes of a milk-induced coma, it’s interesting to reflect on how my life has changed in such a short time.

To be honest, it was very hard to realize the enormity of baby number 2. I mean, we knew she was coming, there was no doubt. She was in there, she had to come out sometime. We were even given a date as to when that would be. And when that date arrived, even when we were all checked in to the hospital and being ushered by the sweetest nurse into the birthing suite where she was going to be born. Even to the point where I was naked and putting on a hospital robe. And even when she arrived, when she was physically in this world and not in me anymore, her impact was still hard to actualize.

It wasn’t until we left the bubble of the hospital and hit the reality of our little home that we understood her impact.

I believe it’s the kind of thing there is no way to really prepare for.

*sigh* Best. Feeling. Ever.

But huge changes. Huge changes for Vincent, change that’s pushing him to make bigger boy steps, maybe ones neither of us were ready for yet. We have no choice though and Vince is now firmly on that path from ‘my baby’ to ‘my child’. My son. It’s hard to articulate… He’s growing up and it’s kind of hard for me to see. However, you know that old adage ‘That’s life’, and that is indeed it in a nutshell.

But all seriousness aside, this second baby business? Piece of cake. Piece. Of. Cake.

No really. I mean it. I’ve already been through the wringer with Vince, so pretty much nothing fazes me now. Only difference? More vagina. Yup, that’s about it. And let me say, it’s a little easier to deal with. Apart from not knowing where random pee will be directed (at least with Vince we could dodge…), I’m familiar with the territory. Yes, it’s true. I have one too.

Anyways, small volcanic eruption in our household and things are settling down to normal. Slowly settling, with some hiccups to be anticipated. I feel almost normal and apart from a few lingering reminders of last Mondays events (like that one foot that’s still a bit swollen, oh and Eleanor of course), it’s like she was always here…

much love xoxo a.m.

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Just a wee post about pee (snicker)

The waiting room was full, but extremely stylish...

Things are starting to wind down over here, pregnancy-wise, and I am starting to get a little apprehensive regarding what is coming. Apprehensive might be the wrong word, actually. But I’m having a hard time coming up with what exactly is the right one.

I’ve about 6 weeks to go and am just starting my bimonthly doctor appointments. Tuesday is my first one and since I’m not totally jazzed about my doctor and the office staff, I’m not too jazzed about these more regular visits.

I had to swap out doctors this pregnancy when I found out that the physician that delivered Vince stopped delivering babies because of some random OR incident (or at least that’s what her office staff muttered to me when I asked. “Fractured collar-bone in the OR”, she said through pursed lips.)How that even happens, I honestly am not sure. Or if, indeed, it’s even true.

Anyways, I’m not in love with my physician is what it really boils down to. And I am not particularly fond of the office staff either since the second visit when they randomly asked me for a large sum of money without explaining why it was being requested. And then looked at me like I was an idiot for asking what it was for.

But let me just get my real issue out in the open air…

I went to put my urine sample in the bathroom cupboard…. Wait, is this tmi? Well, maybe just stop reading for a minute or so. Let me get this off my chest….

So as I was saying, I went to put my sample in the bathroom cupboard (designed specifically for this purpose so the medical staff can remove it from the outside by a separate door). I opened the cupboard. There literally were about 7 samples inside that had clearly been there for a while. And there was nowhere for mine.

I just kind of stood there for a few seconds, staring at all that pee. All that pee that belonged to other people, people named ‘Jennifer’ and ‘Samantha’. Ugh.

What the hell did I do with mine? I ran a couple of scenarios through my mind and finally settled on the least ridiculous one. I calmly shifted other peoples urine around on the shelf until there was room for mine and then carefully set it down.

And then I went out and washed my hands thoroughly.

What. The F.

It’s just a one physician practice. It’s a teeny office. There are 2  nurses. How on earth does it reach this stage especially when ones appointment is at 8:30?

I’m no stranger to urine and feces either. I do have a 3 1/2 year old. And a baby on the way. And a husband. It’s not like it’s a mystery. But there have to be some standards, right? You don’t just ignore a cupboard full of pee, especially since this is a ‘deposit’ you are expecting from every single patient that enters the office. You’ve got to give us some options other than ‘touch everyone elses pee cups to make room for mine’. Although, I guess I could have asked them to move it, or told them it was full instead of passive aggressively being angry about it still weeks later.

Bahahahaha…. Where’s the fun in that??

I will really enjoy going back to my previous physician once darling, sweetest baby girl has arrived. And never, ever stepping foot in that grotty little office again.

I hope you enjoyed my story about pee.

Happy Sunday night 🙂

xoxo a.m.

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Craft fail spectacular

Craft fail. That pretty much sums up my creative attempts Sunday…

I haven’t gotten my craft on in quite a while. It’s possible it might actually have been years since I crafted. What a horrible admission! Whats wrong with me? What have I been doing for the past few years?

Oh right. Playing playdough. Endlessly. (Can’t stand it either.) Mixing the colours literally makes me shudder. I honestly feel that you should play with each colour separately. And don’t ever combine them! Oh the horrors! Or at least combine them in a manner that allows them to be easily separated from one another, so you can put each one cleanly back in its container unsoiled.

God I’m a freak.

Anyways… Saturday night and Sunday morning I spent shaving crayons. ‘We’ were going to make crayon hearts and if you click the link on Saturdays blog from Martha Stewart, gosh do hers ever look pretty! The wax smelled lovely, like kindergarten. I had so much fun picking out various pinks and reds and purples and the shaved wax looked so pretty mixed together…

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I had this lovely container pretty full and then I went and got a pedicure. And then Vince went over to his Grandparents house for a visit. Alone. And Edward and I were home. ALONE. And I did laundry. Party.

And since Vince wasn’t around, I thought to myself ‘Perhaps I should do the ironing part, since a 3 1/2 year old really doesn’t need to be that close to a hot iron’. This was a really clever plan. And so I did and gosh it looked nice. The colours started to meld together just a little and it looked like stained glass. And I had a kindergarten flash-back, which sort of made for a lovely experience.

And then it melted a little more. And then I looked at it a little strangely, for it appeared to be taking on another form entirely. One that was not in any way related to Valentines Day, but perhaps a little more at home in a hospital. Or a morgue. In the middle of an autopsy perhaps. Or maybe a biopsy?

 

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Hmm, that looks sort of like a lung. Don’t worry, I cut out little hearts from it anyways and tied them up with red ribbon (’cause I’m fancy like that). And hung them up by my front door.

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Edward took one look at it and said something like “What the hell are those?!” And one of my friends almost snorted soda out of her nose when I flashed her a photo of my clever creation.

So clearly I need to get my mojo back. This was a craft fail on a HUGE scale. Although I guess if you wanted to put a positive spin on it, at least the hearts are cut out of material that genuinely looks like it is actually from a heart.

Don’t worry fret my pets… I’m sure I’ll find something else to make a mess of this coming weekend. I’ll be sure to actively include my child in craft creation this time, instead of hogging it all to myself…

xoxo a.m.

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Happy New Year, or else!

2012 has arrived like a bright and shiny new penny and I swear the air is filled with enticing promises and plans already.

This year though I am resolving to remain resolved about my resolutions. My resolutions that I am going to, for the most part, keep to myself. I will admit that 2 big goals are to write more and to be more creative. How both of these things will work out with baby number 2 making her appearance in 9 short weeks shall be very interesting to see.

In a silly, horoscopically-focused kind of way, I feel like this year has more potential than, say, last year. Not that last year was a bad boy or anything, but this year is the Year of the Dragon. My year. Also my mothers. And by a quirky twist of fate, my unborn daughters. Does this not sound auspicious? It’s like a sign from a Guy Gavriel Kay novel or something… (currently rereading his books and adore him all the more)

I am really excited about focusing more on creativity this year. I feel like I have grand plans and schemes, but lately things have fallen to the wayside. So kick-starting this is something I am anticipating. What I think will really help pull my focus is that we finally made the leap and got rid of cable. Now we did get Apple TV and HuluPlus, but despite these options, I’ve noticed a huge decrease in telly gazing on all parties involved.

Vincent has been very interesting to observe. At first he didn’t even notice. And then a few times he asked for particular shows that he used to watch on cable. I told him we didn’t have them any more and directed his attention towards his toys. Since then, the few times he’s actually asked for a show, it’s very non-specific and I am so happy that Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is neither on NetFlix nor Hulu.

So one week in and we don’t miss it one iota. And my closets are all cleaned. And I baked cookies and made strawberry shortcake. And Edward and I watched a WHOLE movie together. And I’ve been in bed at 8:30 or 9 every night (that part might just be because I am pregnant and tired though…).

It’s interesting to see how a small change has such a huge impact on a household.

I’ve got several ‘rub my hands together gleefully and chuckle’ type plans for projects on the backburners of my mind. Some are for me. Some are for Vince. None are for Edward, but he will be required to high-five us both and admire the results in a believable manner.

A Happy New year to all of you. May the year of the Dragon be one filled with wonderful adventures in life for you all…

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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