Paper towel

This weekend was spent exhausting my child. Our child. I exhausted our child. Edward worked. All weekend.

And when he wasn’t working? He was working.

Edward’s weekend job switched from Friday/Saturdays to Saturday/Sundays. And this was the week where it overlapped. So E worked all weekend. And when he wasn’t physically working at the restaurant, he was at home lesson-planning for the coming week.

As a result, I didn’t see him at all. I think, in total, it might have been 2 hours over a period of 3 days. Brutal!

Which means that it was one of my ‘single parent’ weekends. I was sans partner.

Bummer.

For Vince? Bliss.

He played with PlayDough (Yes. I broke down and bought some). There was glitter glue. Colouring. Sidewalk chalk. Dr Philips water park with Sydney. Lunch at WholeFoods with Shannon and Syd. Tita and Errol. And hugging of both of them. Nemo. Figment. Epcot. Disney. Woody and Bullseye. Bubble-baths.

Apparently I should just run a weekend play camp for kids, we did so many things.

There were also no naps. And this allowed for bedtimes of 6 pm. Aren’t I sneaky? And he literally fell asleep 3 minutes into bedtime. He was soooooo tired.

But with each adventure we had this weekend, he pronounced it ‘fun’. And “Mummy, Vincent fun”.

Ok honey! Even though you screamed and clung to me all through DeDe’s goodbye party. And then, as we walked out of the restaurant, you proclaimed “Party fun”. Repeatedly.

And with every successive adventure this weekend, when fun was waning, you stepped up and told me how much you liked it. How ‘fun’ it was. Regardless of it’s actual ‘fun’ quota.

Darling Sweet Pea, you confuse me. I am pretty sure it’s because you are two. And if that’s true (which it is), then I now understand your initial love interest with play-dough and subsequent hatred of it.

And your initial love of sidewalk chalk and, again, subsequent hatred of it.

And your love of “Doggie Mooooovie” (Bolt) and then hatred. This could be repeated a million times with ‘Cars’, ‘Wall-E’, ‘Nemo’ and all the ‘Toy Story’ movies.

Darn toddlers. So troublesome and so worth all the trouble.

Even when, say, you are in the middle of removing your contact lenses and they grab a roll of paper towels that you just happened to leave for one moment in your bedroom. And then they run and unravel that roll down the hallway while you are in the middle of removing your right contact lense.

And then? Once those lenses are stored? You run away from me, tearing small pieces of paper towel apart in your path.

Oh god. How I nearly lost my sanity.

Thank god it was just before bedtime or I might have damn near lost my mind….

xoxo a.m.

Dirty Baptism (of sorts)

Last weekend I was shopping at Kohl’s (which is my favorite place to shop for…. well….. anything, oh and everything). For my Canadians, Kohl’s is like shopping at The Bay. Or how shopping at The Bay used to be, just with more sales as everything seems to be at least 50% off when I am there.

So there I was, with V, looking for something to wear to dinner with M to celebrate our 4th anniversary.

I can fit a stroller in the change room AND I had a huge bag of cheesy-poofs for him to occupy himself with.

I must have had a million outfits hanging off the stroller. Some of them were even cheesy-poof free (he has grabby hands)…. (and apparently I am Queen of the brackets tonight).

Off we went to the changing room, poofs and outfits in hand. I strategically maneuvered the stroller until it was in front to the mirror, so V could stare at himself. I figured that this would occupy him, while I pulled things on and off my head…

Off came my tank-top and on went a dress. V was transfixed in the mirror, staring away at himself.

Off went the dress and on went another dress….. V’s little hand was slowly reaching towards the mirror, pointer finger extended with such a charming expression on his face. He looked up towards me in the mirror, with such an excited look on his face….

Off went that dress and on went a skirt and top….. V’s little hands were splayed out on the surface of the mirror. Again, he looked up at me in the mirror and smiled at me….

Off went the skirt and top, and on went another dress…. V’s hands were running up and down the mirror, and I forgot that he had been eating baby cheesey poofs. His hands were wet and covered in poofs and he was smearing them all over the mirror.

I looked at the mirror, and looked at him (and then looked at me in the mirror in that dress….. and didn’t try anything else on). He was ecstatic! I was doubled over trying to silently giggle. The ladies in the changing rooms next to me were loudly critiquing each others outfits in a very New York accenty sort of way. I think it masked my laughter.

The mirror was filthy. A full 1 1/2 foot section covered in smear. Smear which was gluten free!!

I didn’t care!

I bought the dress.

And we left the mirror just like that. Silent homage to my new motherhood?  Baptism of changing room? Mixture of both.