Tag Archives: Edward

Emotional

As a highly emotional (and carefully controlled) Cancer woman… (one, I might add, that is significantly sarcastic, wryly optimistic and short on patience for idiots)  It is with  regularity I notice that since having a baby I frequently breakdown into mini-emotional hurricanes.

They strike with no rhyme or reason. Ha! I lie! Mostly with reason.

And this weekend was no exception.

While V was trashing the upstairs, as you do when you are 2 years old and make multiple conflicting decisions in 3 seconds flat. And then cry when you don’t get your way (and which way would that be? And rightfully I am endlessly confused).

Anyways, he dragged out the diaper bag we took to Canada last June and emptied it. Not knowing there was anything to empty, I was surprised at the things he found.

1) Rather a lot of lip gloss. So that’s where it all went! I knew I had more!

2) 2 little baby utensils, one spoon and one fork. Barely used. I remember buying them for the trip, actually.

Third and finally, one bib. One little, itty bitty bib.

Whose neck would that bib even fit now? Not my child, that’s for sure. My child doesn’t wear bibs and hasn’t for a year. Since he learned to remove them. Plus he has a giant neck.

This bib was so small, I think it might have been about 1/4 of the fabric size of V’s current T-Shirt. And the velcro enclosure looked like it would surround a banana. Who has a neck the size of a banana?!

Oh. Perhaps babies.

And so last night I found it again. It went through the wash and I came across it as I was hanging V’s giant 3-T shirts up in his closet.

I picked it up, snuggled it. V read himself a story. I sniffed it. V played ‘Look and Find’ with an Elmo book. I used it to wipe up a few sad little tears that trickled down my cheek. V told me “Mummy, read book! Look at that!”. I folded it and put it up on the top shelf of his closet, to get tucked away with the other clothing he has outgrown.

I think of all the things I have put up on that shelf, that might have made my womb ache the most.

I was telling Edward about my bib encounter after V was down for the night. “Remember this?” he said while he made a cradling gesture with his arms and rocked them back and forth.

“Nope”, and then had to immediately fight back the tears. Because I can barely remember when he was that small. Each memory overrides the previous, until those memories of my wee one are faint and hard to hold onto.

However, all of those overriding memories are each, in themselves, way more awesome.

From a chubby little baby with frog-legs to a curly haired, blond, determined and extremely silly 2 year old, it just gets better and better.

Todays memory override?

Vincent picking up a banana and saying to it “Oh, banana! Nummy!” and then quickly putting it up to his ear and saying, naturally, “Hello? Hi Mummy!” while looking right at me. And then giggling.

Oh yes. This is clearly a product of Edward and I.

xoxo a.m.

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Family night out

So Edward, Vince and I decided to check out ‘National Night Out’ this evening. Being as it wasn’t even close to dark, this was a little difficult for Edward to be out and about in. But since, a la True Blood, he has ingested my faerie blood, he is able to handle the day light a lot easier.

What? No, not really. He doesn’t drink my blood on a regular basis. Honestly.

Anyways, neither of us had any idea what it was about. And not only that, but neither of us bothered to find out anything about it. I kept receiving emails from my neighbourhood association about how this event was approaching, none of which had any details. For a while I thought it was a ‘National Coming Out’ and then I was really confused. Then I read the email a little more closely and still had no idea.

And tonight when we went? Neither of us had any idea what we were attending. Actually, we had no idea until I googled it about 5 minutes ago.

Ours had food from Tijuana Flats, a raffle and a few bounce houses. Big high-lights included a hula-hoop contest for the kiddos and, my favorite, sidewalk chalk.

All chalk was confiscated by tweens who used it to write “I *heart* Justin Bieber” all over the sidewalks around our local YMCA (which is where the even was being held).

It made me laugh. Which I did, of course, politely out of sight of those tempestuous tweenies. God forbid we should ignite the ire.

Apparently the Nation Night Out is a marriage of communities and the police officers that protect them (and Target, so whats not to love). It was quite cute. V bounced his face off in the bounce house, we ate some tacos and drank some unsweetened tea and let V run ragged.

No bottoms were spanked (although threats were issued) and we all returned home satisfied and tired.

As this week approaches Wednesday, I feel hesitant regarding the weekend. I am minutes away from signing up for the first 5k that I have ran in about 3 years. It’s a gentle ‘easing in’ process.

I bought new socks. I am stocking up on Coconut water. Edward and V have been advised to cheer me over the finish line. I feel concerned that I won;t be able to make it the whole way? (And by this, I mean, running the whole 5 k with no breaks. Any break will disappoint myself.)

So maybe cheer me on?

It’s the Moss Park Forest 5K

What a peach, eh?

xoxo a.m.

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‘Edward’

Isn’t it interesting how things suddenly seem to change in a period of, say, 24 hours? And of course I am talking about children. As that is all I talk about because, well, that’s pretty much all there is going on.

There was forewarning, but we didn’t recognize the signs…

Thursday night, V called Daddy by his first name.

“Dad. Daddy. Daaaddddddyyy. DAD! Edward!”

*He wishes his real name to not be used, so I am using his middle. And that choice has absolutely nothing to do with having just watched Eclipse this afternoon.

Well, whatever we are calling him, it certainly got our attention. And then I laughed my face off. Last night at our family chili dinner, V did it again much to the delight of his Grandparents and Auntie.

And this morning, just after I left to hit up the movies with my girlfriend, M (or Edward) called and told me that V was running around the house looking for me, shouting “Mummy! Mum!!! MUMMY! Jaime!!!!!”.

Still, I find it quite funny. And probably will until he  starts using it as his primary name for me. My game plan is to (try to) not react to it at all. Wish me luck with that.

And moving on?

Moving on to V learning how to climb up his changing table.

‘Edward’ told me all about it Friday morning when he woke up on V’s floor (you know, since we are having night-time issues). He was still 3/4 asleep and V cleverly chose that moment to climb up his changing table. It looks like a 2 level book shelf and I guess that is helpful. Make it kind of like ‘steps’.

I laughed it off a bit when ‘Edward’ told me about the incident. Until this evening when he did it about twelve times. Right in the middle of bedtime.

Now this may sound like there is no control in our house. Really there is. This just happened to be a bad 2 minutes.

So while I moved the changed table out into the hall, rearranged the whole room and contemplated Ikea tomorrow morning, Vince read some books. Edward came upstairs and finished off the evening routine.

I lugged the table downstairs to the garage. And as I dragged it out through the courtyard I really had a good look at it. A proper good look. I think the last time I really noticed it as a piece of furniture was when I bought it. And I was hugely pregnant then. And then after? I ignored it. It is, after all, a receptacle for poo, diapers, powder and bums.

But as I was pushing it in to place in the garage, I looked at it properly.

Was the high rail supposed to be facing outward into the room? Or was the low rail. Because there is one of each. And we have always had the lower rail facing the room, with the high rail against the wall. But as I looked at it again and squinted and thought…

Shoot. Have I been changing my son incorrectly for 2 years? Has he been in non-stop danger of falling off the table? And then I laughed.

Not like it matters now, since we will be changing him on the floor, while we push the ‘big boy pants’ and the ‘stinky icky poo’ and then push the potty like an m-f’er.

There is now no place at all to keep V’s many many books. They are piled up all over his bedroom floor. Hence Ikea tomorrow.

But on an up note, his room seems bigger. And the cosy chair we have in his room is now positioned nearer a window which equals better light for Jaime and Edward to read by as V falls asleep.

Doesn’t that kind of sound like I am married to a vampire?

xoxo a.m.

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