Tag Archives: Daddy

Things not to do in public parks: A Guide

'Mummy! Daddy said I could!"

 

So today I assisted my son in committing a crime.

A crime of public urination.

I had no choice though, I had to assist him. He couldn’t get his pants off by himself. Oh, and we were 20 minutes away from the house on a walk and there (obviously) was no public bathroom nearby.

And this is how it all went down:

Vince: Mummy! I have to go pee! Can I go pee outside? Daddy said I could.

(interestingly, Daddy was nowhere to be seen, mainly because he was at work many many miles away… But I digress)

Me: Ummm….

Vince: Daddy said I could…(and this was the point where he started pulling down his pants while walking away from me, so clearly whatever Daddy says {whenever it was that he said it] goes)

Me: Um, ok. Well, let’s go over here, in the bushes.

And just to clarify, we were at a park a little bit from our house and there was NO way that we would make it back in time to not have an accident. And also, isn’t this just what men do anyways? Pee everywhere both in and out of doors? So this is training. Right?

So I led him over to this little copse of trees by the lake and helped him get his pants down and he let it go. His pants had to go down all the way of course, so there just was no way at all we could even pretend to be discreet about the whole thing

All I could think about was that every single person in the neighbourhood was, right at this very moment, standing at their living room window with their faces pointed in exactly our direction. Judging us. Even that squirrel was judging us, judging us with his beady squirrel eyes…(also, I cannot spell squirrel to save my life). I honestly thought I was going to get some irate person barreling down the park sidewalk to harangue me about my public behavior. I was judging me too, if that makes you feel any better. I’d never done anything like this before.

Ok, let me clarify…. I’VE done things like this before, but that was when I was much, much, much younger. And silly. And probably camping or something. Or drinking. Or whatever, anyways… the point is that I’d never done this with my son before. I kept wondering things like “Gosh, I wish he didn’t pull his pants all the way down to his ankles. At least if he just pulled them down a teeny bit, we could be more discreet.” and “How on earth did he not go before we left the house?” and finally “Where is he keeping all that pee?! It’s a floodgate!”

Of course, the whole time he was saying things like “Daddy said I could” and “Daddy says it’s OK”.

Oh! I get it! It’s a new stage! Aha!

I discussed this with Edward later and he agreed that Vince was busting out the ‘Mummy says it’s OK’ with him too. And Edward, being Edward, believed him. Lesson: Don’t believe the majority of what your almost 4 year old tells you. Because he has learned to lie and he will lie through his teeth. Endlessly and forever. About everything.

But also he told me that he’d let Vince pee outside before when they were at that park. So Vince was, in a way, telling the truth. He just neglected to mention that Daddy had said it was OK quite awhile ago. And hadn’t said it since. To my knowledge anyways. And I am not even sure if I want to know that answer. I think I’ll leave it between the guys… (like penis cleaning, that’s the kind of thing I don’t really want to be involved in. Just about as much as Edward wants to be in cleaning his daughter’s ‘bits’)

Anyways, he didn’t have an accident in his pants so as far as I’m concerned it was a win!

xoxo a.m.

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Hot Dog

Update: Still no potty action. But that’s OK. And you will see as follows…

It’s ok, because I am slowly succeeding in small steps in other directions. It’s night-time training pants ahoy! And it’s such a big step to get him adjusted to them. Tonight was day 3 of night-time pants. And mostly the reason this has become de rigueur is because we had a series of wet bed nights.

And so we had to take action and that action was rejected. Rejected nightly. And with hearty enthusiasm.

But then last night? Success!!!

Total high-five for Mummy!!

The game plan? Wiggle those pants on those little fighting, chubby little thighs. Distract with intense discussion of Mickey Mouse. Carry squirming child to bathroom and place fat feet on bathroom counter. Stand him up and commence admiration of ‘Big Boy Pants’. And then get a treat.

And yes, that’s right. I do bribe him. And it’s a very successful bribe.

V now knows how to say ‘mirror’. And ‘big boy pants’.

And so? De rigueur.

In other exciting news… Vince has just discovered Mickey Mouse. Now as we reside in Florida, it is really kind of surprising to me that he has just noticed him. We have only been to Disney a million times. I mean, M works there on the weekends for Gosh’s sake.

This actually happened this past weekend and we have been a Mickey Mouse Club House home from then on. Which, to be honest, is an amazing change from reruns of Sesame Street. M and I were quoting and ranking the ones we hated the most. ‘Alphabots’ is right on top. If you watch Sesame Street, you know what I mean.

With each passing day, V’s obsession seems to grow. Last night he dragged me out of another room to dance the ‘Hot Dog’ with him.

And this afternoon? Well, apparently he cried when Daddy didn’t join in and dance with him. I promise to post a video if I can catch this unbelievable act in the process. M dancing is a rare and unseen thing, rare in that I have only seen it once or twice in our whole decade long relationship.

It’s totally an event worth catching on tape.

So Mickey, Big Boy Pants and Daddy dancing to Hot Dog.

That’s the week so far.

And heres the video so you can learn too!

xoxo a.m.

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Summertime (a la Dad)

Summer of Dad has commenced.

This means there will be copious amounts of sunscreen used, lots of dirty socks (when those are worn at all), extremely messy hair and a haphazardly cleaned house.

Today was an exceptionally busy day for everyone. M had to work at Disney early. The boys had their first swimming lessons this morning. I had a doctors appointment, quickly followed by V having his 2 year check on the complete opposite side of town. So there was a lot of frantic driving around and quick phone calls containing hurried shouted instructions.

“Make sure he’s clean, you know, down ‘there'”

“Please dress him cutely”

“Snack!!! He needs a snack!!!”

Ok, so most of the shouting was regarding V. And it wasn’t that loud of shouting, maybe more of a brisk chatter. And it was mostly me directing my  ‘chatter’ at M. You know, since he is clearly not an adult and can’t doing anything by himself without my direction.

Swimming lessons went very well. V learned how to blow bubbles, kick and jump to Daddy on the count of 3.

My doctor’s appointment went very well too.

And so did V’s. Extremely well, in fact. V is almost 3 feet tall, weights 32 lbs and is quite the charmer. And, also to my delight, has a language level of a 3 year old. How wonderful is that!! I was delighted to hear that.

F-ing DELIGHTED.

He is stringing words together at a higher level than she expected him to be and his vocabulary was a lot larger as well.

M and I did a total parental high-five over the phone while I was relaying all of this to him.

We (that would be the ‘royal We’) are also not having any wheat issues right now. We are, in fact, un-wheat-free. Wheat is living in our house again and people are eating and enjoying it. We are still on strict peanut avoidance though and are contemplating a reintroduction of strawberries. We also are having no eczema issues too. And no asthma problems. And are also not sick.

What the freak dimension did we move into? Sheeeeeeiiit!! It’s just effing crazy positive health over here!!! (although, please forget about the puke-post from Friday, that was just a sugar issue)

Well, whatever freak health dimension we are currently in, it is not the tidy dimension. The house was cleaned so weirdly that I was in shock. And M was at work so I couldn’t call him and ask him things like “Where did you put V’s blanket that I just washed?” or “Where is the NetFlix dvd?” or “Why is the carpet really really wet?” (that one I actually know the answer to).

Or “Why is there a random roll of toilet paper on the kitchen counter?”, “What’s that stain on the floor?” and “Why are  your swim trunks in the garage?”. Ok, I made that last one up… they were in the kitchen sink.

Ok, I made that one up too. They were just in the guest bathroom sink. *sigh* Kind of a letdown now, eh?

Oh Summer of Dad, how I missed you! I am pretty sure you will be better than last years. Pretty darn sure…

xoxo a.m.

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Rocks

M is on Spring Break right now and home with the Little Man. Today marked the first day of the two of them alone. Together. Without Mummy. And since V has been a little Mummy-clingy lately, I wondered how the day would go…

I hurriedly drove home from work, wondering what would greet me as I returned. Would it be ‘House destructo’? Or perhaps ‘Collapso-Daddy~0’? Or even super grinny ‘Mischievous-Munchkin~o’ plus ‘Exhaust~o Papi’?

It was none of the above.

I pulled up to the garage and hit the remote. As the garage door rolled up, I noticed with a shock that there was another car parked there. As in not my car. As I am the only one that parks there. Mostly because I can’t figure out how to park my car in the garage to allow for another car to fit in there. Selfish, I know.

So as I walked through the garage, I heard these sweet giggles and these hearty laughs coming through the door.

As I walked from the garage into the courtyard, I saw Little man in his diaper and tee-shirt in an inflatable pool, with M sitting next to him laughing.

“Jame!! Rocks are awesome!” he shouted at me as I walked through the door and as V threw them with force at the pool surface (that he was standing in).

Splash!!!!!! The water shot up into V’s face and he laughed like a maniac.

“Yes!!” he shouted!

Literally, V shouted yes over and over with each rock he threw into his inflatable pool. And there were a lot of rocks in that pool.

“Rocks,” he said in a solemn voice as he looked up at me, his diaper sagging down to his calves with water intake. His tee-shirt was soaked. His hair stuck up all over the place. His face was a study in concentration and joy at the same time.

M turned to me and said “He was so scared when I brought it out, he literally wouldn’t go anywhere near it. I had to bribe him with candy.”

Turning and looking at V in the pool, my little water-baby in action, that made me laugh.

“I had to hold it over the middle of the pool. And as I did, V turned and looked at me and totally heaved a huge sigh and stepped into the pool, ” M side-eyed me with the story as we both watched V-Diddy throw rocks in the pool.

Huh. My child, bribed by food. Hm. Italian blood. Ha.

And some West Coast blood as well. He stayed in that pool for 30 more minutes, throwing rocks, splashing around.

Mike emerged from the house while I was lounging, watching V splash with the announcement, ” We now own our first squirt gun,”he proclaimed.

“Jame. It’s a shark.”

This was a serious announcement.

And it was a serious moment, full of shark squirting, solemn rock dropping, super big grins and some big applause from Mummy.

It looks like Daddy and V week is right on schedule.

xoxo a.m.

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Naughty

Running on the end of the weekend, M and I finally get a chance to sit down together and talk.

“How are you?”

“Fine. How are you?”

“Fine. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“True dat. I’ve missed you!” (I know M likes when I talk like that)

“Me too!”

And our weekend went like this:

No internet for the majority of Saturday which really put a damper on M’s giant project, that one that he needed to use his work computer for that could only be accessed wirelessly. And so that day was just a huge disaster. Full of stress, more stress, random calls to BrightHouse and some more stress.

Life? Dull? I think not. And then he had to go to work (Job #2).

Shit.

But, you ask… what happened after that? Oh my! Things just so much better!!

V demonstrated his slapping skills on my face. And demonstrated his hitting skills on my chest. Oh my poor chest. And my poor face. But mostly my poor chest. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch.

And where did this lovely skill come from? I am assuming Daycare as M and I don’t have the habit of smacking each other around. Dude. Total dislike.

As he was hitting me, he laughed. Repeatedly. And it just made me more upset. No amount of “No” and stern looks made it any better. And I have a really good stern look too. It has, on the odd occasion, made M wash dishes and pick up his underwear.

I digress…

Huge upset for me. Why is he hitting and why is he pretending to enjoy it? What am I parenting wrong? And then, just a random guttural scream.

Later, skyping with my Mum, I spilled the whole shebang.

Mum: “And so he hit you, and then what did you  do?”

Me: “I hit…. oh. I hit him on the hand and said ‘No hitting’. Crap.”

Mum: “Did you just say ‘crap’?

Me: “Yes. And I hit him while saying ‘no hitting’. Huge parenting win for me.”

Mum: “What?” And then she laughed at me.

You will figure out your discipline strategy, she said.

Let me be honest. I have no idea what to do about discipline. No idea at all. At all. So much so that I went and bought a book today.

I mean I do the usual. Stern looks. Solemn speaking. “No. No. No.”

But I say that so much that V now says “Mumma no no no.”

Great. And also lol. But with a period at the end. So that makes it ironic. Or serious. Either.

So I am now reading some books. Books that I will tell you about later as I am about to go to bed with them. Mmmhmm book love.

xoxo a.m plus books (Hi Sunday night !!)

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17

17-blog

17 months, that is…

And it is a most interesting number. And a most interesting, um, adventure for Mummies and Daddies. You know who you are (or were).

It recently started with the word ‘No”. And then was followed by “Mummy, no. I don’t want to hold your hand”. This was communicated by, well, mostly grunts and, um, annoyed looks.

Someone is in the middle of asserting his independence and is not enjoying the doubts that Mumma is having regarding his decisions. Such as decisions regarding crossing a street without holding onto Mumma’s hand. I am pretty sure that all of you reading (ie my Mum and possibly my mother-in-law) realize that I am right.

Could you please tell V? Since he is currently a non-verbal Italian, he just stops in his tracks and squats down, trying to pull his hand out of mine. Since I am an emotional Canadian, I can read his body language.

I think all he wants to do is careen madly down the sidewalk, looking slightly tipsy as he bounced back and forth on our various neighbour’s lawns. I think he hears the name ‘V……’ and the word ‘No’ and reacts accordingly.

A few major temper tantrums have been introduced. Mostly involving him having a ‘fit’ (and very loose terminology is used here),  throwing himself on the floor and mostly smacking his head while doing so. Which induces crying. And so then I pick him up. And then he struggles with me holding him. And then I put him down. Repeat. Repeat etc etc.

And so life is interesting.

And my Mum is laughing. I know she is, as she was laughing earlier while I was complaining about this. I figure its divine retribution. I know I was  a pain in the ass. And I know M is a pain in the ass. And so the equation.

M+J=V(pain)2

Our respective mothers are peeing their pants laughing right now. Busting a gut (in a refined manners… as I know they are lovely ladies and all). Still. So tired.

xoxo a.m.

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Stink

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I am thinking that I might rename my blog “Things my husband and child do to me”. I know that is all I blather on about. Is it entertaining for you? Yikes! I hope so! It is for me…

Since we are currently pending finalization on our new house, I don’t have much to say. I am not going to yoga. We are trying to not eat out. I am not shopping for everything. Unless it’s V-related and then it’s no holds barred. I can shop forever for him but can I buy myself a shirt? No.

I literally feel the need to shower him with everything (kisses, hugs, new clothes, books, hugs, more kisses, snuggles [even though he does not snuggle, never has unless he’s sick and sometimes pushes me away when I try] tasty healthy treats, rattly things and on and on). I sometimes feel guilty about spending money on myself.

So really nothing is going on over here. No exciting things, just regular life things. Just a lot of waiting. And the waiting is hard. Especially for me, as waiting and I are not the best of friends.

Things my child did to me today:

It is so cute, I don’t even mind that much. I am teaching him to brush his teeth. He get very excited about this nightly event and I let him hold the toothbrush all by himself. We’ve been working on ‘brushing’ motions for a while and have managed a regular, somewhat jerky motion. If I try and help him (oh, he has to hold the brush by himself), he yanks the brush out of my hand and grunts in an annoyed manner. So, unassisted brushing it is with a light dash of arm-waving.

The fun part comes about 15 seconds into the brushing. V has not learned the exciting technique of swallowing while brushing. Of course he hasn’t! He’s 14 1/2 months!! So it all just drips right out…. Elmo baby toothpaste and spit dripping onto my arm. I am so into the whole night-time brushing thing that I don’t even notice until we are rinsing his little hands. I. Am. Covered. In.  Drool. Oh, and baby toothpaste… It just rubs right in though… no worries. Can’t even notice it was there…

As for that husband of mine?! I swear to god if I find another dirty stray sock lying around the house, I will remove all socks from this premises… No joke.

Where ever it is he leaves them, our Chihuahua finds them, drags them out and romps joyously around the house with them. Chews them with such ardor that he might as well marry that sock. And if he married all of the socks that he loves on, M would be sock-less. Forever.

He often brings them over to my lap to share them with me. Ick. ICK! M! I hate your socks!!

But I still love you…

For things that stink (like M’s socks), click here

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Applebee’s

dinner2-blog

M and I were brave this evening and decided to take wee V out for dinner with us. We didn’t want to hit up anything fancy so we ended up at Applebee’s across the street. For my lovely Canadians, Applebee’s is like going to Earl’s. But with Rock n’ Roll paraphernalia instead of parrots.

It’s cheap. Crowded. Full of families.

In short, the perfect place to practise on. After we’ve master this place, we can move on to fancier places… Like, um, Chili’s…

So this was this evenings conversation…

“What would you like this evening?”

“I’ll have the Shrimp Fiesta sala–nanananananananana….Vincent. Nananana. No. Salad, please… And a glass of wine.”

“I’ll have the Roasted Red Pepper Chicken Penn-nanananananana. Vincent. Nananana. Put that down. Penne pasta. And a Caesar salad on the side. And some french fries. And a beer.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks”

*please hurry*

5 minutes of thumping, clapping and hitting ourselves on the head commenced (V’s new favorite motion of choice).

Drinks arrived. It was 2 for 1 night (and apparently is every night of the week. I slurped back a glass of wine. M slurped back a beer) Clapping resumed.

Food arrived…(in between the clapping and food, there was little to no conversation). Conversation started but was cut short like this: ‘How was your da-dadadadadada day? Wheres Dada?! There he is!!! Yayayayayayayay!!!” *clap clap clap* etc

French fries arrived on a plate that was delivered directly to V. How thoughtful of the young waitress to deliver a plate of piping hot fries fresh out of the oil to a 1 year old. Thank you. Lets now listen to him scream while I remove them from his reach and cool them down. M, please distract him with a rattly Zebra or something….

Fries cooled down, eating began. And M and I ate quickly.

V ate so many french fries that I thought I would seriously regret this meal tomorrow. I still do. I am so going to rock-paper-scissors M tomorrow morning for the diaper change *Junken!!*

The rest of the meal consisted of clapping. Cheering. Hitting ourselves on our heads. Saying “What’s that?!” a million times. Really it sounds like ‘Izzat!” but that is what it means. Picking up toys. Picking up more toys. Apologizing to that couple that got a toy thrown at them (sort of). More hitting. Some random Pterodactyl noises (think  loud shrieks). French fries gently sprinkled on the floor like someone planting grass…. etc etc.

And then we went home. It was 7:30. V went right to bed. All of that restaurant excitement clearly tired him out…. he went right to sleep.

I love my child. Sometimes I really love it when he sleeps. Tonight is one of those nights…

xoxo a.m.

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Dinner

dinner-blog

As requested, this post is about M.

As in, “Honey, what should I write about??”

“I think you should write about how awesome your husband is.”

OK. I certainly will try.

He is pretty awesome.

He has made me dinner every night that he has been home during his summer holiday (he is a middle school teacher). And, it is always beautifully plated. And he always presents it to me from such a great height. So I have to wait until it is lowered to my eye-level to see what it is. Did I also mention that he never tells me what he is cooking?

I also am never allowed into the kitchen. Ever. While he is cooking. All cooking (by him) that goes on in our house is a surprise. And it really is! I tend to cook the same way. It’s a whole 2 veg 1 protein type of meal with me. I make home-cooking. Shepherds pie, mashed potatoes, steamed veg, casserole…. things of that nature. It is all I can cook.

I cannot do reductions.

I sometimes burn steaks just right.

I can make magical Vincent-meals.

I make a wicked Seafood salad (that doe not include mayo). Oh, and can I ever bake….

I can’t, however, make Quinoa, risotto, a proper blackened steak of any kind. Or spell that word right. Ever. I never know what wine goes with what.

I just drink red. I figure its got to fit in there somehow….

The ceremony that goes one with M’s meals is something to be seen, heard, tasted and enjoyed.

Tonight it was Pepper Pork Tenderloin, on a bed of greens with fresh peaches with a home-made Italian reduction drizzled…everywhere…

So here’s to M’s delicious cooking, my complete spoiledness, V’s future spoiledness (once we have properly developed his taste-buds, that is), our new house and future appliances that M will cook delicious things on.

Handsome husband, oh how I adore thee…. especially…well… all the time. Can’t lie there. You are pretty awesome. And put up with my OCD cleaning. And my OCD list-writing. Oh, and my OCD cleaning.

love you. xo

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I (we) need

need-blog

Things I haven’t done in a while:

Cut my toe-nails

Taken a relaxing bath.

Read a book on a quiet Sunday morning.

Read a book.

Watched a whole movie.

Things I have done recently:

Cleaned a very dirty bum.

Stroked a sweaty, sad litte brow.

Planted and watched some herbs grown on my front porch.

Heard the words “You complete me” sung through my ipod headphones at the tail end of a run, while looking at M and V play in the park. Thinking….”Oh, my…. it is true”.

Things I will do in the future:

Get a tattoo.

Teach V how to nod his head. Currently he can only shake his head and say “Nananananananana…” to everything, even if its things he wants.

Help those chubby little feet sit flat on the ground, instead of up on their tip-toes like they are now. Future ballerina? I think not. He already has linebacker shoulders.

Buy a house.

Buy a house before Christmas.

Finally convince M that I do, indeed, need a nightly foot massage.

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