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.

X-Ray

V and I went to the Hospital yesterday.

As I learned, it is certainly a nice thing to know a little about where you are going. So, for example, you don’t park on the opposite side of the building and then have to trot in heels carrying a 32 pound child on your hip(s).

Unfortunately, I didn’t. And so I used “Hi!! I’m not sure if I need to be here or somewhere else! Can’t you help me?”repeatedly plus a cheerful tone of voice. This got me up to the 3rd floor and then down to the first and then, happily, to the exact opposite of where my car was (building-wise).

20 minutes late I arrived at admissions. As I plunked V down on the admissions counter, that plunk issued a rather strong odor that mushroom-clouded around my face and that of the girl inputting our info. I think she typed a little faster. The stink got stronger, the typing got faster.

Oh my little stinker… Although I was concerned about being late for the x-ray, I NEEDED to change that bum. And while we were getting changed, we met a crazy lady.

“Oh baby oh baby oh baby, good baby boy good. If you are good Mummy will give you candy! Yes, you will get candy! I will give you candy!!” she cried as she walked past us on her way to a bathroom stall. Who was she? Um, I didn’t know. But at the thought of her offering V candy, I did the quickest change ever, super washed my hands and did a runner.

Yikes.

Ok. X-ray. Here we come. And there we stayed. In the waiting room. Forever. The odor of poo followed us in there. And why did it follow us? Well, that’s because there was more poo. Of course there was. And of course it was the last diaper. (“The last diaper? How is that even possible?” M asked me later. He got a total huge side-eye for that one) And of course we went right from the bathroom directly to a small enclosed waiting room. And, well, you know… That is just my life.

One lead vest later, we attempted the test. V was not cooperative. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be either. The first shot was ok. A standing profile. There we were, facing each other, trying to let the tech get a side shot. I knelt down to a bit more to be on his level and well, darn it, he knelt down too. So cute!! It wasn’t quite what was needed to get the shot, but it sure made me laugh…

I didn’t know they needed to do 2 shots but apparently it’s a requirement. The second shot was a horizontal shot. I had to lower him onto a table, hold his head still and with the other arm, pin his arms down while the tech held his legs. He was so scared he couldn’t even move. He just cried and lay still while Mummy whispered ‘brave boy’ over and over again. Ick.

But before all of this?

While we were waiting, V got a little restless. And by little, I mean a lot. We took a walk and encountered the ‘Disney Pavilion’ at the hospital. It was a whole interactive jungle themed corner, with characters from The Jungle Book and Finding Nemo. Quite cute actually, but something about it hit V the wrong way. And then he saw a monkey and it terrified him.

“No monkey no monkey no monkey no monkey,” he whimpered. This was quickly followed by “No fish no fish no fish no fish” when we left the pavilion and walked past an aquarium. Huh.

No fish and no monkey followed us all the way through both waiting rooms, the scan room, the actual scan, back up to the 3rd floor, down to the 1st and through the parking garage, all the way home in the rain and into the house.

“Daddy!! No fish!!!!!!! Noooooooo monkey,” he shouted on our arrival home.

And this morning when he woke up?

“Mummy!! Mummmmmmmmmy! No fish. No. No fish. No monkey. Monkey? NO monkey.”

Isn’t it funny how it is the little things that affect the most? It’s the fish and the monkeys and the butterflies (right Tara?). And so I wonder today as I listened to him talk about monkeys and fish, will these things be a permanent scar? Did I just accidently scar my child for life? Were those fish and that monkey so scary, plus the X-ray, that those three things are now permanently burned together and will always be associated?

Lord, I hope not! No more trips to the zoo for us.

On the plus side of things, the x-ray showed that his adenoids are not enlarged. They are normal. It did, however, show 4 molars. 4 new molars that haven’t shown up ye., 4 molars that are, apparently, about about to totally erupt through his jaw at any moment.

Sweet!!!!!!! Awesome!!!!!!! Dude!!! (3 words of V’s that seem appropriate)

For real, I know you are so jealous. Right?

xoxo a.m.

Kiss

I have started and stopped this blog a zillion times this evening. Good topic, boring topic, distraction distraction and some more distraction.

Current distraction is 21 Jump Street Season One. Johnny Depp has such a tidy haircut…

Total distraction.

And the other distraction  would be the Little Man coughing away in the other room. We can feel it coming. It’s hovering around the house. And by ‘it’, I mean the sickness. The Plague. It is circling the crib over in the other room.

We are currently doing the following:

Runny nose, cough, super runny nose, diarrhea, lack of appetite and today he had a bloody nose again. Bloody noses were all the rage a week ago and so we took a trip to my office (the handy thing about working for an ENT) and had that checked out.

One large tube of ointment later and at least  3 days of fighting with me over swabbing his nostril with it and the problem was healed.

And now it’s back. With a little more force than it was before. I do not enjoy swabbing anyones nose with Bactroban ointment. Today he ran into the corner and tried to hide his nose.

And on the sweet side of things, today he went and fetched my photo albums from the  bookshelf. He really wanted to look at pictures.

Patiently he sat in my lap for about 20 minutes while he looked at old pictures of Mummy and Auntie as little girls, some funny pictures of Daddy and Mummy in Japan and some funny pictures of Pop-Pop and Grandma Sassy’s house before they repainted it (it was very pink, so ‘Florida’).

After those, he went and got his baby book and wanted to look at those pictures too.

It is really hard to acknowledge that he is developing tastes, preferences and interests. I pretty much think he will still do and like everything that I think he should.

How special to share my childhood photos with my own child… Now if only I had a scanner so I could share them with you…

xoxo a.m.

Sharp

It’s Spring. Spring always makes me want to clean, something that I wish would affect my husband as well…

I think it must just be that lovely fresh air. There is just something about it that makes you want to rejuvenate your whole life. Starting with your house.  Mostly your bathroom.

And so that’s where I started yesterday. Well, I initially started in Home Depot, with a gift card, the Little man, a shopping cart, a desire to teach him how to say ‘Awesome!!!” and a complete and total lack of shame.

A baby makes people do your bidding. And climb ladders. And give you stickers.

$200 later, I emerged with several stickers, a can of ‘Blueberry patch’ paint for my bathroom, a new ceiling fan that was tres expensive and new window blinds for my bathroom.

And this is where the story gets good.

It involves me, V, 3 different sized screwdrivers, the top floor of my townhouse and my eagerness to get started on my rejuvenation project.

I was pretty sure that he would entertain himself with his toys while I fussed in the bathroom. And he did for a short period of time. And then got bored and climbed into the bathtub. Happily I was working right above him, I was attempting to removing the old crappy blinds.  This room contained the only crap blind remaining from the previous owners. The only crap blind they didn’t take.

I got stuck on a stripped screw (teehee~), I guess I just physically don’t have the strength to get that mother out of the wall. But I thought I did. And I certainly made quite an effort.

Such an effort, in fact, that my feet got sweaty and slipped on the porcelain tub, which made me hip-check the wall which, in turn, dislodged part of my towel rack…

Those hips of mine are so sharp that they popped a wall fixture right out of its socket.

There is now a hole in my wall.

This was a bit of a shock. I was looking to do some renovating, but not quite as soon as this. I am holding off on any home improvements until my father-in-law sets up camp on my second floor…

Watch out. I’ve got some sharp poppers.

Toilet

About 4 or 5 months ago, V discovered the joys of unraveling toilet paper. As a total neat freak, I was not happy about his discovery, although I did enjoy the silly noises he made while he trashed my bathroom. Can’t get mad at that!

All of the toilet paper immediately moved to the bathroom counter, behind the sink and completely out of reach of small, determined fingers.

Bathrooms are just not a great place for children. Ours all have doorknobs that he can open. They aren’t ‘knobs’ per se, but more like handles. So he is in and out of the bathrooms all the time and is carefully monitored when he is near a drawer.

He mostly pulls things out and throws them either into the basket by the toilet or the bath tub. Or he just places them carefully on top of the toilet. Toe nail clippers, contact lenses, hair accessories. The other day I caught him with a tampon in his mouth. And it was one of those o.b. ones too, which I haven’t bought in years so lord only knows where he got it from.

This afternoon, while I wallowed in sickness upstairs, he emerged from the bathroom with a handful of condoms. He then proceeded to giggle hysterically and run all over the bedroom with them. And then cried when I took them away… (mental note to self, find new place for condoms and tampons).

Back to the TP… I guess he forgot about it, or we did or we all did because gradually it was re-hung and no-one paid it any mind. Until last night.

M was brushing his teeth in front of the TV in the bedroom and I was on the other side of the house putting some laundry away. V was running back and forth between us. At some point we lost track of him, maybe for about 5 seconds.

We both heard some very giggly giggling. It was extra giggly. It was coming from the bathroom.

I peeked around the corner to see it awash in a sea of white. Paper everywhere. V kicking his feet. Toilet paper everywhere. As those little fat fingers reached for what was left on the roll I did a run and dive with a slo-mo “Noooooooooo…”.

I handed Mr Giggle to Daddy.

As he was carried, giggling, out of the bathroom, I surveyed the room.

M’s voice drifted in from across the way “Don’t worry Hun! I’ll reroll it!”

Ha! Really? It seriously would have taken all night. I scooped it all up and dumped it in the sink. Strict instructions were issued to actually use it.

Oh how I love parenthood and my sink toilet-paper!

xoxo a.m.

Epic Lighting

As this Christmas season pulls up, M and I are gearing up for ‘YAY!’.

With our first house, we both really feel like we can really put effort into outside house decor.

So.

We went to Home Depot. And then to Lowes. And then back to Home Depot again.

Eventually we emerged with lights. The selection of lights involved us breaking out the calculator app on M’s crap phone to estimate if our choice was a ‘good buy’ or not. It was. Only took 35 minutes to decide upon.

We got home, V went down for a nap and M broke out the big ladder and started hanging lights for the FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE.

And I watched him FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE.

We have no idea what we are doing. Other people on our street have such nice displays, we are rather jealous. How do they do it? Do they plan? Diagrams? Blue prints? What exactly?

Anyways, we just went and bought some stuff… And some hanger-ish things.

We had a few issues with, well, lots of stuff.

And so I was sent off to Home Depot to ask ridiculous questions while M made festive beef stew for us to enjoy in this cold Florida weather.

Ridiculous Question #1: “Where do I find a double ‘male part’ extension cord?”

Ridiculous Answer #1: “Um. They don’t exist. Did your husband hang the lights up backwards?”

Me: “Maybe. I don’t know and I am not going to ask.”

V was currently on one hip, runny nose and one sticky finger up one nostril (Yay discovery!). My other hand was clutching a few packages of window clings. I was wearing slippers.

Ridiculous Question #2: “It looks like we are going to end up with some dangling male-parts hanging from our roof. I don’t want to leave it so exposed. Is there anything I can insert it into to protect it?” (I was actually talking about extension cords. I realize I should now not ever use the term ‘male parts’ ever again)

Ridiculous Answer #2: *blank stare*

Ridiculous Answer #3: “Just use some tape.” He then shook his head and walked away.

V, our window clings and my slippers left Home Depot quickly. I called M.

“Hey. It’s me. It doesn’t exist. Ya. Next time, YOU get to ask… *click*”

Our lights are slightly crooked and not as beautifully blue-printed as some of our neighbours. And there still are ‘dangling male parts’ hanging off of my roof.

Looks so gorgeously amateur, it really couldn’t look any more beautiful.

xoxo a.m.

Mobile

That baby sheep in the middle, who looks like he's about to make a dash for it? That's mine...

 

The continued adventures of a mobile child…and his mother.

I might as well be his entourage, as I am always behind him. Currently he moves like rapid fire throughout, well, everything.

This afternoon we (I) decided to take a walk with the M.C. and the dog. Now, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have taken the dog, but the poor thing is just so desperate for any attention that he practically attached his own leash and walked himself in his eagerness to spend time with me.

So dog in hand, V and I went a’walkin’.

I had thought just to go around the block.

1/25th of the there… Oh look! Garbage! Mumma! Shall I pick it u…. oh. you got it for me… Thanks mumma.

1/24th of the way there. Oh look! The dog peed right there! Right there, Mumma… I think I’ll go over and walkright on top of it. Oh wait….. WHEEEEEE! I love it when you pick me up and swing me around!

1/23rd of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/22nd of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/21st of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/20th of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/19th of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

So this short walk that I wanted to take took FOR EVER.

I ended up with so many random pieces of garbage in my pocket. Rather in my pocket than in V’s mouth. And the poor dog. Mid-poop, V did a dash out into the road. I tried a ‘grab, bag and run’. And had no option but to stuff that filled poop-bag into my pocket. V was, at this point, in the middle of the street and giggling madly. Chewie was still in mid-squat but no-longer on the grass (poor dog). I had poo in my pocket. And some random Halloween garbage.

Half way back we encountered an awful combination of other dogs, other people and the road in front of our house. just the sight of this road is enough for Little man to do a fast dash for the middle of it. Collapse when I try and pick him up. Cry. Thrash. Cry some more. And then, at this perfect time, everyone in the neighbourhood walks their dog or turns onto our road and tries to park their car.

But can they?

Nope.

No, they cannot.

And why you ask?

As my child is having a tantrum in the middle of the street, effectively blocking any passage down it.

Hi neighbours! Please watch me parent my child in public! Please don’t judge me too much…

www.clusterflock.org

www.dadcentric.com

And if you are, go to the above sites and judge them too….

 

 

 

Well, shit.

Just a few things that I have noticed that V brings home from daycare.

Bruises

This is a major one. Now probably this is because he has been walking for about 1 month (1 MONTH!) and falls down all of the time. Tonight during bath-time I noticed that his calves were literally littered with little bruises. It looks like someone whacked those little legs with a stick. And there were even a couple on the side of his little tush. My eyebrows raised a little when I saw those little bruises. What on earth is going on at DayCare that results in bum bruises?

Unexplained marks

Yesterday I picked him up from school and he was crying. He wasn’t crying when I was peeking at him from outside, but between me peeking and entering the building, something had happened. Something, and nobody seemed to clear on what had made him cry.

Well, regardless, off we went. We stopped for some french-fries on the way home. Just a little treat for my wee man. About 2 hours later I happened to notice a mark on his arm. With a closer look, I realized that it looked a lot like someone’s small mouth. As in someone bit him. Nice. And so there you go. Someone bit my child. And I learned about it by accident.

I mentioned it this morning when I dropped him off and apparently the class has a biter. During bath-time tonight, while I was noticing his cane-marks on those calves, I saw a faded mark on his other arm. The more I looked at it, the more I became convinced that it was another bite-mark. It was suspiciously rounded and mouth-like.

Shit.

Well, shit.

Shit.

Art Projects

Now these are delightful.

Yesterday I received 3 little things that he had done, little things he had painted and glued things on to. I just love this.

Tonight when I came home, V had ‘homework’. Oh, I even loved this! We had to send 5 different leaves to school tomorrow for a ‘project’. Off we went as a family to get some leaves. How lovely to have a little family project.

So biting, bruising and art work. That is what school has brought us so far. Oh, and the flu. And also a constant cold for 3 weeks. And some added emotional stress for all of us. And the word ‘No’.

So far school is kicking our ass. Damn it!! I was trying for a win!

Nugget

(of poop)

There they were, waiting for me on the changing table as I carried my squeaky clean V from the tub back to his bedroom…

*sigh*

Not only nuggets, but an open dirty diaper.

….flashback to a few hours earlier….

On my way home, I called M for a quick chat.

“How was your day?”, I asked as I gunned it down the expressway.

“Oh. It’s been better”, he replied in a wry tone.

“Oh?”

“I am in the middle of doing something horrible……”

Not picking up on the wry tone, my mind headed in the worst directions possible… mortgage payments, things to do with money, hot water tank leak, smoke detectors going off, awful things to do with the house…

“V gave me a present”.

This is parent code for ‘loaded up the pants’, ‘made a brownie’, ‘dropped the kids off at the pool’ or any number of other expressions (that I am sure your husband/brother/male member of the family will be happy to share with you, while they snicker that is…)

Oh men, so dramatic. You’d think it was the end of the world.

It must have been though, if I was to find remnants of it an hour later. Apparently it was epic. And there was screaming and thrashing involved during changing time. Good stuff.

….flash-forward to present….

I was sure. So sure. That life was not going to throw feces at me tonight. All signs pointed to a ‘dodge’, especially considering the previous conversation with M.

I picked that poop up, deposited it elsewhere and snuggled that Little Man within an inch of his poop-filled life….

Mumma loves the baby.

Toast

Today I bought a sandwich for a homeless kid.

I wasn’t going to. To be honest, I usually avoid anything to do with people asking for money. It’s pretty much inherent. Part of living on the West Coast I think. I am immune to begging…

On the West Coast, homeless people have cats and dogs that they guilt you into feeling sorry for. Who, seriously, can resist giving money to help someone feed their dog. That is the hardest thing in the world for me. Poor animals.

West Coast homeless people also try to ‘jolly’ you out of spare change. Or insult you…. one or the other…

Case in point:

Once, my mother and I were ‘accosted’ by a young man who swore we were so beautiful that he had immediately, on the spot, made up a poem, just for us. He was so charming, that of course we said yes. And then he charged us a dollar. And my Mum, being the lovely person she was, gave it to him.

And then we watched him do the same thing to someone else.

It was funny though. $1 equals funny experience that I remember 10 years later. I guess it was worth the price…

There is a well known man who sits outside a church in downtown Victoria that chimes “Spaaaaaare a little chaaaaange…” He is elderly, white-bearded. Practically has become part of the landscape. I hardly notice him when I am back home.

One day, walking past the Eaton’s Center (that would be ‘The Bay Center’ to all of you young ones in Victoria), I was yelled at for ignoring a request for change. I am sorry. But, to be honest, I can only handle that request so many times… Once I hit 4 or 5, I have reached my limit. It is hard for me to avoid the pleading eyes, but after years of experience I have become a skilled professional.

Living in the South is a little bit different.

There is no real downtown core, so you are not slammed with the exposure that you would be in my hometown of Victoria, or even Vancouver.

M and I were checking out Orlando’s ‘downtown’ area one day, back when I had first moved here when we were approached by the skinniest, dirtiest black man you have ever seen.

He proclaimed “You are in LOVE. I can feel it”.

“I can feel you love, it’s so strong. I know you love this gorgeous woman. You love her. I can feel it…. let me dedicate a song to her beauty…”

And then he proceeded to sing, with a glorious smokey voice, an amazing, jazzy, 1920’s made-up song about my beauty and how it had M wrapped around my finger. For surely no man had ever resisted a woman such as I…

Oh god, how I was both embarrassed and flattered. We gave him $5 and he went on his way, down the deserted street that he had crossed to reach us.

This young man that I saw today was the skinniest boy you have ever seen. Clad in dirty jeans and a black tank top… those shoulders of his popped right out of his torso, they were so sharp and narrow. He asked me very politely “Ma’am, spare any change?” And unfortunately I had none….

So I bought him a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water instead. And apologized to him on my way out of the restaurant for not having any money to give him. I hoped he would like this sandwich instead. He thanked me, and gave me a shy happy smile.

Just look what motherhood has done to me….