Scars, complaints and some mild drama…

So earlier this week I had my final ‘spot’ sliced off at the dermatologist.

HALLELUJAH.

I’m so tired of going there that I am not capable of adding an exclamation mark to the previous ‘exclamation’. It’s just a loud statement. Said in a bored sort of voice, because I am so over being sliced that it’s not even funny.

The nurse removed the stitches from the ‘spot’ on my chest, which has healed up quite good. The spot on my thigh looks like someone bingo-stamped with magenta ink. Oh and put a big icky scab in the middle. Real attractive. The last area is on the side of my upper right arm. Another three stitches, frankly this one looks a little rougher. And hairier. Stitch thread sticking up and a bald spot in the shape of a band-aid in the surrounding area are competing to add extra glamour to my day-to-day look.

One more week and I head back to have the stitches removed. Since it’s such a quick procedure, I’ve elected to take V with me. Hysterical, right? I think so.

All of these spots plus the fun that I am experiencing during early pregnancy have combined to make me feel just kind of gross. Despite being in my second trimester (albeit just barely), this ‘surge’ of energy so far is manifesting itself  as more of a ‘drain’. Liars!

Craving are up and running full speed though. Nausea and what I honestly describe as a ‘general malaise’ are in the running with my energy ‘surge’ for number one. And gosh do I ever like saying ‘general malaise’.

Oh and I feel like I’m 5 months pregnant. Thanks muscles for relaxing and stretching out at the slightest whisper of pregnancy.

So to sum it up: I am covered in new scars, carrying a huge spare tire, exhausted, cranky, smell like apples (must stop eating them) and am craving cheese.

Gah!!

xoxo a.m.

I can roar like a dragon

I think this is what my face looked like this morning...

Or so I found out this morning on my way to my in-laws house. We headed over there for some swimming and there was a rumor floating around that they would babysit while Edward and I went to the movies.

E headed off first, we followed a few minutes later.

I threw in a cd, some nice chill Sarah Harmer (that’s ‘hippy crap’ to you Fran) and it all went down hill from there.

My son disapproved of my music choice

“I no like this, I want the Danger Danger song. Mummy! I want my song! I no like this, I don’t want to listen to it. I want MY MUSIC! TURN IT OFF MUMMY!” etc etc etc

And this was combined with tears, flailing and the whiniest voice you have ever heard. IN YOUR LIFE. Unless you too have a three-year old, then you know exactly what I am talking about.

I, apparently, I left my patience on the couch. And also, one can only listen to ‘Danger Danger, High Voltage by Electric Six’ so many times before losing your damn mind.

This roar erupted out of me that actually was rather frightening. Vince must have agreed because he paused in mid-whine and burst into actual real tears, as opposed to the fake ones previous. Ugh.  I hate it when things like this happen, but sometimes they just do.

3 seconds later, we both moved on. I calmed down, V stopped crying and we hit the expressway to Sassy and Pop-Pop’s.

Once we arrived, I told V it was time to go to the bathroom.

“No, I just did it already.” Oh really. Reeeaaaallllyyy. And nope, you didn’t. Well, you did, but it was 4 hours ago. You are not a camel. So off we went to the potty amid many protestations of “I did it already” and “I don’t have to”.

I shut the door and locked it. Edwards parents weren’t home yet, but I had to go too and I always lock the door. Mistake number one, clearly.

“You don’t lock da door! YOU DON”T LOCK IT!!”

(I’m sitting on the potty)

“I don’t want to go potty!!!!!!! I don’t have to!!!!

(The door is unlocked. Did I mention I was sitting on the potty?)

“I DON”T WANT TO!!!!”

And then he opened the door. I roared just one word “OUT” and he ran.

Edward, from the other room, “Jame? What on earth is going on in there?”

*sigh* Mummy is losing her damn mind.

And then 3 seconds later, Vince announced “I wanna go potty with Daddy”. And off they went, to the potty on the other side of the house. And they returned successful, V proclaiming “Mummy! I did a super monster pee!”

And then V happily went off with his Grandparents and Edward and I went and saw Captain America.

There is, it seems, an awful lot of arguing going on in our house. Vince disapproves of pretty much everything we do and breaks out his multiple not-so-secret weapons of whining, tears and full on fits. I am clearly learning how to handle this. And it seems that I am mostly handling it badly.

Vince has been three for 6 weeks. Geez-us is this way worse than  2.

I’ll get the hang of it eventually, probably when he turns 4…

xoxo a.m.

Oh blessedness, I love and hate you…

Just how I like my mornings to start, full of duckings…

I awoke this morning with such a feeling of total blessedness, that I couldn’t help but be extra genki. I spun and twirled around the second floor of our townhouse, brandishing a toilet bowl brush, wiping down counter tops, throwing laundry in the wash and dryer.

Vince woke up and was in such a deliciously cheerful mood, that I instantly determined that this was, indeed, a blessed day.

He chattered happily away to himself and the dog while up on our big bed, as Edward somehow slept the morning away. How he slept through the never-ending stream of chatter, dog barks, flushing toilets, bouncing, poking, painful hugs, I have no idea. (I think he was faking it, hoping we’d leave…. Ha! Nice try! No sleeping in in our house mister!)

I blessedly went to the gym and blessedly sweated. The boys blessedly went swimming. Vince practiced plugging his nose and squeezing his eyes tight shut and dunking his little chunky face in the pool.

And then, Vince and I blessedly drove to my most favorite of all places to shop…. World Market. And while I shopped, Vince blessedly played Angry Birds on my phone to his heart’s content.

I mean really. Could this day get any better?

And the answer is no. Nope. Mostly because that small person that I was driving around with decided that they hated everything and then some.

Pausing for a quick run in to Home Depot, the following conversation ensued. I really need to remember that he is 3 and not a teenager.

“Mummy, I’m just going to stay in the car”.

“No honey, you’ve got to come into Home Depot with me, it’s too hot for you to stay in the car”.

“No it isn’t”.

“Yes it is”

“No it isn’t. The air is on”.

“Honey, I have to turn the air off when the car stops”.

“No you don’t”.

“Yes I do”.

etc etc etc. Isn’t it just painful to read? It was painful to experience. I didn’t let it destroy my bliss. And I didn’t scream into a paper bag, so all in all I was proud of my self-control.

Somehow, for the remains of the day, I managed to hold on to my bliss. And there were many many many things that attempted to destroy it.

And then, the most blessed of all blessed events took place. (Nope, not me caulking my shower, although that also took place this evening).

My child went to bed, mostly lured there with promises of ice cream the following day if he went to sleep instantly.

Oh bliss. The blessedly blissfulness of a quiet home, a tasty dinner and that wonderful feeling of tiredness that comes after an over-productive day….

Night oh most blessed of all blessed readers…

xoxo a.m.

Epiphany

A few days ago, I was driving  through the parking lot at Publix and I braked and waved a mum and her 2 kids across the traffic. Her hand lifted in a ‘thank you’ wave and then practically leapt down and latched on to her 4 year old’s hand. Her younger child had a pained look on her face and her little fingers twisted and turned and fought the grip her mum had on her.

I literally had an epiphany.

Oh my gosh. It’s not just me. My son is not the only child in the whole world that hates having his hand held. It is, in fact, all children everywhere in the whole entire.

Funnily enough, this was really a kind of shocking epiphany. I think as you are parenting, it is very hard to remember that what you are doing is what all parents are doing everywhere. Even though it very well may be the most frustrating thing ever, or the grossest thing ever. Or the sweetest thing ever. Whatever those things are, they are being repeated endlessly everywhere.

So two days of really awful diarrhea? Yup, that’s going on somewhere.

A 3 year old, running carelessly around the YMCA pool deck with his father shouting at him? Yup, that too.

Asking for a hug before bedtime and getting “No, maybe later Mummy” as a response. Most likely this is happening in every single home around the world simultaneously.

And just to complain for a second, I had to force a hug from my child tonight. First time. Every night I usually get joyous hugs and smooches, without  even asking for them.

Tonight, Edward picked up Vince, handed him to me and then placed his arms around my neck, mimicking a hug. Half a second later, V wiggled out of my arms and proclaimed it was Daddy’s night and essentially banished me to the living room.

Hm. It appears as if my years of overly loving on my son might be approaching their end.

Nothing like a little Angry Birds to relax...

But, at the same time, it really does help to have these epiphanies. Because honestly it is really easy to forget that you are not the only one going through all of this ridiculous, dramatic, wailing, flailing, smart-mouthed, talking back, pooping everywhere (or nowhere) life.

Everyone else is too. Don’t forget.

xoxo a.m.

Sometimes we have the oddest battles…

Annoyed with Edward's shorts in the sink again, I got ready for a night out on the town...

And I am sure that’s true for everyone, actually. Not just parents of little ones, but parents of big ones, non-parents, married couples, non-married couples. Everyone.

Years ago I can remember getting just furious with Edward because he left his shorts in the bathroom sink. Why would you leave YOUR SHORTS in the sink?! I was so mad. Yesterday, I got back from the gym, stripped and plunked my sports bra in the sink. And in my self-defense it’s because it’s bright purple, has a tendency to run and I don’t trust Edward to do laundry properly.

About 2 years ago, I remember (yes, it’s all Edward’s fault) being SO MAD at him because he would use my facecloth to wipe off his freshly shorn head. And then, not only did he not rinse it off, but he hung it back. Leaving me, unsuspectingly , to encounter it early morning while washing my face, leaving me covered in dark hair. I looked like one of the wolf people.

Tonight with Vince, it was something just plain bizarre. He was terribly wound up when I picked him up at my in-laws. And had been stuffing himself with turkey pepperoni and provolone. He chattered away happily to himself in the backseat as we drove back to our house:

“My head went boop! And then my hair was all gone. Mummy! My hair! It’s not der! It’s aaallllll gone. Uh-oh, I found one! My hairs! Der back!” etc etc

Back at our sweet pad, he dashed around like a crazed monkey. I managed to squeeze some yogurt into him and half a (don’t judge) corn-dog. He announced “I no want to eat, I wanna do a puzzle”.

So we trotted upstairs with some milk, got our pj’s on, got all ready for a puzzle session. We read a bedtime book, put on Cat Stevens and flipped off the lights. And then V flipped out.

“I want my dinnnnnnnner! I want my macaroniiiiiiiiiii! I need my dinner!”

“I want my peas and corn. Mummy, I need my peas and corn Mummy! I NEED MY PEAS AND CORN!!!”

Holy moly, where did this come from? Why on earth are peas and corn the sudden subject of a torrential downpour? And then, just like the rain in Florida, it stopped.

And it made me laugh. I waited, of course, until I’d left the room. I had to wait at least a day to laugh at Edward’s damn shorts in the sink. And maybe 20 minutes, post-wolf-face.

Sometimes the oddest battles are the best, partially because they make the greatest stories. And great stories are the cement of awesome relationships. We got some damn good cement over here….

xoxo a.m.

 

I’m one busy beast

Maybe, might just possibly have overdone it today. Just maybe.

Woke up at 7, V up at 7:30, made breakfast, went to playdate at the park with V’s little girlfriend.

It was hot as a m-f’er at Moss Park, and humid. And we all sweated so damn much. V to the point where 3/4 of his hair was completely soaked with sweat, little sweat droplets swaying at the end of every damp curl.

Headed back to the house, cleaned the garage, measured all closets for shelf additions with father-in-law. Potted roses. Pulled weeds.

Went to YMCA and did 5 miles on the elliptical (600 calories, not too shabby!)

Headed back home, rearranged plants some more, filled pool for V, splashed a little. Showered, cleaned up. Walked with Vince to nearby park for another playdate with his new little friend Nate.

Now let me say, I did mostly sit during this little ‘mandate’, but it was hot as hades and my girlfriend and I sat, sweating away, next to each other while we watched our boys tear that playground the m-f up.

And then we had had enough, Edward came and picked me up and we went straight to Costco, got a membership, shopped and then finally headed home.

And then? Bathed and fed a small beast, bbq’d and settled down for some Big Brother and True Blood.

And while watching telly, I apparently realized how freaking tired I am.

I CANNOT wait until next weekend when Edward whisks me away to Disney for my birthday mini-holiday. I SHALL lounge endlessly poolside, I promise.

xoxo a.m.

Mostly about sweaters, not at all about christening…

Too many cool people to count...

 

This morning started off terribly relaxed. I am pleased to report that Vince ran himself so ragged with his cousins yesterday, that he crashed hard. And so did his parents.

Yesterday was Vincent and Chloe’s Christening party, which was held and organized by Chloe’s parent’s, Edward’s Aunt Christine and Uncle Lee at a really pretty little park on Long Island (I’d tell you where, but honestly, I’m not really sure where we were).

Christine pretty much broke her back organizing everything and it was amazing. Centerpieces, catered delicious food, party favours, childrens crafts etc etc. How she is not dead from exhaustion, I have no idea…

We arrived and helped (sort of) set up and for a while I wondered if as many people as I were told were coming. It was pretty quiet, Vince and his two little cousins ran around and scared the Canadian Geese that were chilling out. (Hey look!! My family showed up!) and it was a pretty low key event…

And then, what started off as a slow trickle became a deluge of Italians. Not that I’m complaining, I love them all.  Oh how I LOVE them. It just seemed that there were none and then suddenly there were 70. And all of them were saying one of the two following statements:

“Vincent is the most adorable thing I have ever seen. LOOK AT THOSE CURLS!!”

And

“When are you having another?” And when I paused to answer… (while holding a Bud Light Lime) “Are you pregnant RIGHT NOW?!?!”

I think I hit 10 before I lost count. I asked Edward this morning. His response?

“Are you two going to have another baby? Is Jaime pregnant RIGHT NOW?”

Oh my lord.

Let me just clear everything up.

Yes, we are planning on having another child. No, I am currently not pregnant. I will be sure to let you all know immediately as soon as I find out, right after I pee on the stick. Maybe even before I tell Edward. Possibly before my mother-in-law knows. Maybe I’ll tell everyone via blog, that way everyone will instantaneously know. Plus, it will up my readership. To include more members of my family. Ha!

So, to conclude. I heart my family. Yes, they are all crazy and obsessed with babies. We eat a lot together. In fact, that appears to be what we do best. Yes, we are trying to have another one. No, I am not pregnant.

I really hope that has cleared up any and all questions…Don’t hesitate to ask me anything else. I’m sure you won’t.

xoxo a.m.

Lies you tell your children (and other things I regret)

Lying to your kids.  For  ladies and gentlemen of my generation? Well, it’s a new thing.

For our parents? They are seriously thinking “Oh darn, they’ve finally figured it out.” And they mean us. If you just started lying to your own kids, this means you just figured out that your own parents lied to you.

Case in point: a few months ago, Vince and Edward were playing with the light switch in V’s bedroom. Flicking in on. And off. And on. And off. Andonandoffandonandoffandonandoffandonandoffandoff.

“Guys!! Don’t do that! You’ll start a fire!” I shouted dramatically. Which is, apparently, the only way I know how to shout. Unless it’s at work. Then I shout calmly. With dramatic license. Maybe that’s the same thing…

Edward looked at me. With humour. “It’ll start a what? What will it start Jame?”

“A fire. It’ll start a… hmmm… fire. Ya.”

“And who told you that?”

“My Mummy. My Mummy told me it would start a fire,” I said, petulantly, like a 3 year old. A three year old who knew they were wrong.

“Jame. Your Mum totally LIED to you,” Edward stated fake solemnly. Bastard. Seriously for years. YEARS. I thought that was the truth. It’s the little things, right? It was just a small lie, one that you’d forget about, one that would just become ingrained… (But regardless, I’ll still blame my husband)

And so, apparently, we all carry it on.

This past Christmas when we decided to take the tree down, we did it overnight. So when V woke up in the morning, it was gone. Coming downstairs, he was rather surprised.

“Mummy!! Where’d da tree go?!”

“Santa took it, back to the North Pole baby. Next year, he’ll bring it back.”

“Mummy? Where da weeth go?? And da lights?”

“Santa took the wreath and lights, baby. To the North Pole. But he’ll bring them back in December!”

“Oh, ok Mummy!”

And that has worked for several months….

This last week or so?

Whole buildings have disappeared. Random items from the house. Dirty underwear. Garbage. Chewies toys. Etc etc…

“Mummy!! Santa took it!! He took the building! And da fire truck! And da Christmas Dog movie!”

“No baby, no he didn’t” (Although, ‘Santa Paws’ can stay with Santa. I don’t want it back. Stupid movies about dogs with magical Christmas powers…)

Etc etc.

Santa apparently has taken everything or is about to take everything. Vince doesn’t say too much about him bringing those things back. I wasn’t trying to make him out to be a bad guy, just trying to find an explanation for why these things disappeared over night.

So it has now turned into a constant re-imagining of life. Because Santa can and, apparently, will, crop up and take things. He will TAKE IT ALL.

And NOT BRING IT BACK.

I can just see years worth of either therapy or lying ahead of me. Probably lying. Lots and lots of lying. Hopefully not therapy. Could be expensive…

xoxo a.m. (the big fat liar)

Some more about poop

Look Mum! No Poop!!

As if I don’t write enough about it. Geez. I am annoyed with myself. But, you know, you draw what you can from your own experiences and this is apparently what my life is consisting of lately.

Today was a particularly special day.

It started off with poo and ended with it as well. How blessed am I! I guess I am blessed with an almost 3 year old that can pee in the potty, but hasn’t quite mastered the poo. But has mastered the ‘holding it’ part of the movement and is rather good at it.

Blah. Anyways, thats how it started today. A nonchalant statement ‘Mummy? I poo in my underwears.” It was just a flat out statement. No emotion at all. It has become de rigeur. Routine. Normal.

And then this afternoon? We got home, walked the dog and then headed out into the courtyard to pull some weeds. We have had a serious weed eruption in the last 5 days. It’s insane. V and I pulled about 3 pounds of weeds this afternoon and in the middle of all of this vigrous pulling, V announced:

“Mummy! Dere’s poo! Right der!”

“Oh?” Uninterestedly… “There is?”

“Mummy!! Right der. Da poo. It’s icky. It’s on my sock”.

Ok, now that got my attention. What? And then? There it was. In the middle of the courtyard.

A turd. Just one. But don’t worry, there was a shower of them to follow.

I had to pick them all up individually. With my bare hands.

Ha! I kid. I keed. I used a papertowel.

And just when I thought I’d got them all, we started heading upstairs and then one more appeared. Renegade poop.

Vince shouted: “It’s a stinky icky poo!! Ewwwwwwww!” Which made me laugh as it rolled out of his pant-leg and on to the floor. He created and disowned in a microsecond.

Having nothing near by to pick it up with, I used V’s dirty sock to pick up the turd, carry it upstairs and deposit it in the toilet.

And that, probably, is the perfect example of the regular life of a normal Mummy. Sock poo pick-up. Vomit slasher-film type experience. Random wet pants.

Edward got home 15 minutes later to a clean Vince, pj-clad and pleasant. Neither of us mentioned anything about poo. To Daddy or each other. Not that, I think, its something we’d have a conversation about. But it was just not mentioned.

And then, I watched Beauty and the Beast and went to bed. Clearly a win of a day…

xoxo a.m.

Inappropriate English

Just yesterday, Edward and I had one of ‘those’ conversations. One that, I think, he was pretty sure was a HUGE lecture. Probably one that lots and lots of wives have had with their husbands. Or not. I mean, I am married to Edward and he is a huge pain in my ass.

But they all are, aren’t they?

Anyways, I came back from the March for Babies in downtown Orlando to a happy home. Vince was full of appetite and life. Edward was cheerful and non-sleep-deprived. The dog was walked. Everyone was terribly happy.

“Vincent, would you like another cup of booger poo-poo milk?” asked Edward, oh so politely.

“NOOOO! I no like booger poo-poo milk”, Vince responded in a manner that indicated that he had been asked this question before.

And why would I even be a little surprised by this. Edward teaches him all sorts of ridiculous things, things which usually result in ‘looks’ from me. ‘Looks’ that I am pretty sure that Edward has learned to ignore.

Because he still teaches him ridiculous things.

So back to yesterday….

“Please, please. Can you teach him English?? Please?”, I asked, while most likely making a face, which means I was trying to not make a face. Which is another face entirely.

Response?

“I will teach him anything I want to!”, he proclaimed proud and firmly, “It’s my fatherly right.”

I rolled my eyes. Men. Whatever. This was just a pointless argument waiting to start. This was something I was going to leave alone for the time being.

Or, at least I thought I was going to…

Later that day, Vince and I hit up the grocery store. We were running low on Vincent snacks among other things. Needed some fruit, stuff for dinner, some milk.

We hit up the dairy section and I reached into the case to grab a couple of litres of milk.

“Mummy! Mummy Mummy Mummy! I no like booger poo-poo milk!”, Vince sing-songed while I was reaching.

“Booger Poo-poo! BOOGER! Poo! POO!!” he proclaimed, “BOOGER POO POO BOOGER BOOGER POO! POO! BOOGER! POO POO POO POO!”

And as we rolled through the aisles, he continued to shout this out at varying levels of loudness.

Finally I called Edward. “Thanks honey. Thanks”.

“What?!?!” he replied bewilderingly. But he knew. Oh, he knew. And then I made him listen. Listen as his son sang the most ridiculous song about boogers and poopoo at the top of his lungs while I pushed him around the grocery store.

That Bastard.

That Bastard who then apologized to me profusely. And then promised to be more conscientious of what he talked about with Vince. You honestly would think an English teacher would have better sense. Right?

Clearly I have married a crazy person.

xoxo a.m.