Tag Archives: epic

Just a random post about hair

So for a couple of years, I really embraced my dark side. I think the last time I had dark hair it must have been high school when I dyed my hair black. I paired that with some lovely steel-toed boots, an army surplus jacket and some gauzy printed fabric dresses. And some fish nets. LORD. That was the 90’s. So really, I think there are no excuses.

So I had really dark auburn hair while pregnant with Vince. I loved it. Vince was born with not a lot of hair. But what there was, well it was dark. And Edward has dark hair. Logical, no?

(And as a secret aside, my roots are just a plain ol’ brown. In the Summer it bleaches easily in the sun, in the winter it darkens naturally. Apparently, my hair is easy)


Vince’s hair, when he was little really looked like it was going to be dark like Daddy’s. He did get the dark eyes after all, he is a clone of his father so I honestly thought the hair would follow.

But, as he grew, it became apparent that his hair had a mind of it’s own. It, as I came to know, did not want to be like Daddy. In fact, it seems that it took pity on me and thought it would lean in my genetic direction and spiral the F out of the top of his head.

When he was one, it was rather short and easy to take care of. When he was two, oh gosh was it cute, curly, blonde, adorable. Recently people say weird things to me like “How’s you streak his hair like that?” and “Is that his natural colour?”.

Today someone said “Oh, he is too cute. So gorgeous. Those curls? Remind me of a little girl…. *sigh*…” Thank you Target employee for pointing out that ‘Yes’, it is, in fact, time for my son to get a haircut.

But every morning that I wake him up and see myself reflected in his clown hair, ugh. UGH. I just can’t. Can’t comb it, for one. Can’t stop laughing for two. Can’t cut it. Can’t seem to get it cut. Can’t put much effort into trying to cut it.

Which is not to say that I have tried. (Once) Which was just last week. Not sure if that counts as actively pursuing the hair-situation.

I think I just cannot help adoring the reflection of me in him. And probably, after he gets older, I will probably curse it and say things to his father and blame it all on him.

But oh the hair. Oh that darn hair…. I will bawl like a baby when those curls get cut. Maybe I just better have another baby and pray to God that its a girl so I can indulge in curlfest…

I am honestly making an effort to organize a haircut. I promise to take pictures. And souvenirs…

xoxo a.m. (clown car hair-style)

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Mary, Mother of God(‘s ring that I bought in Georgia)

So yesterday morning, my parents snuck out of the house so as to not say goodbye to me or Vince or Edward.


Although, when I got all confrontational via text later that morning, it would appear that the Melvins simply had not gotten up in time. Oh man. I thought 5:45 would be early enough. It was apparently not.

But, I have to admit, this was a blessing. I think, if I had to physically hug my Mum goodbye on Friday morning, I would  probably have been a big meltly mess the rest of the day. And since Friday was extremely busy, that would have not flown well.

This way I just felt a bit cheated that I hadn’t hugged longer the night before. And kind of sad that V hadn’t gotten in one last hug. And now, on Saturday night, Chewie and I are hanging out alone after fighting with V at bedtime. And then making dinner and eating at about 8:45. Ugh. Mum, this is part of why I miss you. You encourage early eating. Also you would be encouraging not watching ANTM. I appreciate that encouragement.

I have so many stories to tell, I am afraid that you might hate me. Let me just finish with one.

Somewhere in Georgia, we (V, E and Sissy) pulled over for lunch at a BBQ place. I think it might have been a southern bbq first for my sis. But it also was a much need lunch for the 4 of us. V was cranking it OUT. He needed food.

We ordered. V and I went to the bathroom every 30 seconds to wash his hands. I gulped bbq. Sis ate hush-puppies. Edward oversaw it all. We survived the meal. My hands were particularly clean. So were V’s.

On the way out, as I chased V through the restaurant, we passed the toy machines . You know, those little machines with the tattoos, rings, stickers. All that sort of stuff?

Religious Icons. Thats what they have in Georgia.

Mary, Mother of ‘rings’, Jesus, Son of ‘rings’. Guess what we won.


xoxo a.m.

(and xoxo to Georgia and bbq too)



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And so Friday, my dream came true.

Currently we (my Florida and Vancouver families) are on holiday in South Carolina. Edward has a sweet hookup at a Disney Resort in Hilton Head and so Friday we did the drive up ‘North’.

It was such a pretty drive too. Lots of pine trees, spanish moss and such… Very green and pretty. And the further North we went, the cooler the air seemed to become. Mmmhmm, it was really enjoyable.

Somehow V made it the whole way. We kept telling him we were going to a super awesome playground. Everytime we stopped, thats what we told him to get him back in the car. It was about a 6 hour drive. We were all pretty over it by the time we arrived. And then we arrived.

Hilton Head, Disney resort and our 2 bedroom villa with a balcony overlooking a pool about 10 steps away from gorgeous wetlands…

Good work husband.

We were in so late, we decided to just cook in our little kitchen instead of eating out. We cooked, we drank, we caroused (in a family sort of way). We all slept like rocks.

Friday morning we woke up. Well, Edward and I woke up  after being awake all night, kicked to splinters by Kicky McCougherson.

But that didn’t matter. Neither did the annoying discussions regarding shorts vs pants. We were going to SAVANNAH!!!!!!!!!!

Dream town for all people from the West Coast. And, oh MY GOSH, it’s true. So true.

Gloriously bricked, spanished mossed, cobble stoned, trolley’d and carriaged.

I think every single step I took might have been a historic one. Even the elevator I took was a historic elevator. Because it took us down to a funny back alley cobbled street that ended at the river. And the building was beautiful.

Things I think are beautiful:

Old brick.

Old brick structures with shadows of their neighbours still remaining.

Uneven streets.

Very faded paint on brick.

Girl Scout leaders.

Shrimp and grits in Savannah, GA

Hazy cemetaries

People with their shirts off, lounging on old dueling grounds.

Knowing that something was an old dueling ground.



I honestly feel like I just had a Disney princess wedding. Savannah was so beautiful, it literally was like a dream come true.

Let’s be honest. All West Coast people dream of the ‘South’ like it’s some sort of unobtainable thing. Like we will never get there. And honestly, it was not a place I thought I would. Moving to Florida was not something I was ever planning. But being here makes my Southern fantasies closer to reality. And then there was today.

And I can’t even put into words what it really was all about. It was bricky. Uneven. Dirty. Parts were super smelly, mostly exhaust from tour buses. There were a lot of awful touristy looking things. We rode a trolley and got a ‘historic’ tour. Terribly informative. I would recommened doing on of those ‘on and off’ tours which gives you a lot of freedom.

It was a huge jumble of history. Too much for one person to really full absorb in a few hours. I think it would have been way better to stay in the actual city. In a B&B, preferabley a historic one. Maybe even one with a ghost. A few hours does not at all even begin to illustrate what the city was about.

However, I can say very truely that I love it. It felt like Victoria enlarged. I felt at home. I must be a Southerner at heart.

xoxo a.m.




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Rocket spit

I think, finally, things are starting to settle back into somewhat normal patterns.

I had thought that last week, but then the flu struck! Suddenly and with very little warning. It literally was the week from hell.

There was vomit, abnormally high fevers (104.7!!), lethargy, clingyness. Pretty much all of the shitty things that go along with the flu. I know you have all been there. You know what I’m talking about.

Edward and I took turns staying home with him. By the end of each day, we were literally desperate for adult conversation. I was ecstatic over heading into work. And on the days I stayed home, desperate to go to the gym and go running. Our healthy lifestyle went right out the window. Thai food and red wine… and pizza and wine and etc etc. We threw all our careful plans right out the window, too damn tired to cook or, honestly, do anything.

Blah. But the second he was better? Oh lord. OH LORD.

That would be Saturday. And suddenly, it was like he was never sick at all. Instead, it was rather like he had been resting in order to get into more mischief than usual.

Why on earth I thought of the brilliant plan to go to Florida Mall with him, I will never know. But it seemed a good idea at the time. And why I also thought it was a grand plan to leave the stroller in the car, not really sure.

Edward: “What are you? Some sort of crazy person? Why did you leave it in the car?”

Jaime: “Well, he likes walking with me and I didn’t want to fight with him, or have him insist on pushing the stroller through the crowded mall or… ummm… ya, that’s all I got.”

And my plan would take me to the Aveda store and to M.A.C. Shouldn’t have even bothered, based on my previous experience (see post from 2009 when V puked all over the Aveda store).

Aveda store: I am so sorry that my rambunctious son ran all over your organic bamboo floors, touched all of your organic soy candles and then got behind the counter and tried to play with the cash register. Thank god your uber hip staff was completely focused on the mini-facial she was giving to a customer. She politely ignored me.

M.A.C. store: I am sorry my son repeatedly pulled acorns from his pockets, stuck them in his mouth (ignoring my repeated admonishments) and then rocket spat them out across the store, went and fetched them and popped them back in his mouth. Your uber hip staff was was too busy being uber hip/way cooler than me/pale/trendy etc etc.

He then had many many mini-melt downs on the way out of the mall, turned into many many noodles and just was, in general, awful, mischevious, giggley, whiney and a pain in my ass.

And then when we got to the car he told me “Mummy! That was fun! I am good boy!”

Uhuh. A good boy, eh?

So Vincent is better. Thank goodness.

Now back to our regular routines….

xoxo a.m.

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Faking it

V wasn't paying attention

And just like that, we are back to food and bedtime issues. It appears to be a never-ending, cyclical thing.

What a huge turd.

Anyways, I’m not going to go through the whole huge complaint again. You’ve all heard it a million times. Won’t eat anything I make blah blah blah… a billion dinners blah blah, hates everything blah blah, won’t go to bed blah blah, lots of crying blah, hates school blah blah blah..

And of course the bipolar switch of ‘loves school, loves everything I make, gobbles down dinner and sleeps just like a little angel’.

It’s exhausting to keep up with.

Last night, during the Battle of the Bed, I though I would try a new tactic. It was called ‘faking it’.

This entails lying still on the narrow twin bed that V sleeps on, pretending to be ‘sooooooooo tired’ that I fall asleep, hopefully encouraging him to feel sleepy too and fall asleep next to me.

And I was so tired that I almost fell asleep too. So I am lying there, faking it, trying not to succumb to the pillow and the blanket. Tough. Very tough.

Things started to get calmer in the room. I stayed awake. Just.

And then a little hand started patting my face. Patting my cheeks and nose. Then my mouth. Then 2 little fingers poked their way into my mouth. I did not move. Mustn’t encourage child. Fake it good.

So I lay there with fingers in my mouth, little nails running over my front teeth. I did a fake ‘yawn and stretch’ type move and dislodged the fingers. 30 seconds later, the fingers were back in my mouth and the second hand started patting my nose and I felt fingers near my nostrils.

And that’s when I ended my attempt at faking it. Fingers up the nose? No thank you!

Faking it does not appear to work. At least not over here. All I get was 2 fingers in my mouth and one almost up my nose. And I got giggled on. (As in he giggled right in my face, all heavy hot breath and all. Few drops of saliva mixed in).

So Edward is dealing with the bedtime battles now. I am on poop-patrol. I have yet to decide if this is a far trade-off. Hmm.

xoxo a.m.



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Monday night poop

The last 2 weeks or so seem to be the beginning of a vocabulary explosion in the Little Man. And sentence structure. And chattering. Non-stop.

Vince’s latest things to say?

“Mummy, that’s funny!”

“Chewie, don’t bite Mummy’s pants. That’s bad.”

“Chewie is too noisy. Be quiet!”

And this evening?

“Mummy? Vincent poo-poo bath-tub! Ewww! Stinky poo!”

I thought it was all talk. But, as it turns out, it was action too. “Daddy!!”, I hollered, “I need you!!”

“What?!” Edward shouted in reply.

“Poop in the tub!! I need help!”

And so while Edward got V cleaned up, pajamaed and read him a few stories, I fished poo out of the tub with a paper towel. This is not a fun game. The motion of the paper towel under water causes ripples that make the poo drift away from your paper-wrapped hand.

And if, say, you had a tub filled with bubbles, it turns into ‘hide and seek with poo’. Not ‘Hide and Seek with Pooh’ as that would actually be fun. Just me, on my knees beside the tub carefully scooping turds out and depositing them into the toilet.

Funnily enough, V was not in the slightest bit upset that this happened. Like the last few times it did. He was just very matter of fact. And then stood there, very patiently, while I fished him out of the tub and rinsed him off. And then promptly told Daddy all about it when he came upstairs.

There might have been a hint of pride in his retelling of the story.

Lord. Help. Us.

What a perfect ending to a lovely day…

xoxo a.m.


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Veggie shock

And just like that, the veggie crisis of 2010 is over.

It came as a shock to me mostly, to V not at all and to Edward? Well, he is a vampire and doesn’t eat veg. So he could have cared less.

I think things changed when Edward and I discovered this amazing Organic farm about a week ago. That’s with a capital ‘O’, as it orgasmically delicious. Mmmhhh.

Anyways, just a wee local place a few miles from us that we happened upon. Gorgeous green bliss, fresh egg-tasticness, blueberry heaven and hearty, wide grins at my shy boy as he clung to my side while confronted with this cheery wholesomeness.

The next day, he voluntarily ate a raw piece of okra.


I mean, it’s not something that I think is awesome. It forms its own starchy slime while being chewed and while it tastes crunchy and fresh, once you’ve chewed it 3 times, it feels like someone spit in your mouth.


Well, V apparently thought so. He ate a few pieces, Edward and I surreptitiously high-fived each other.

2 nights ago, he ate zucchini. And then last night he ate it again. And then this evening he ate it again. And while eating it? He requested carrots.

Seriously, who are you  child of mine?

And when he got his hands on those carrots, he stuffed them in. Please visualize my shocked face. Edward, of course, showed no emotion at all (darn vampires).

And so, it’s over. It’s all over. Veg has been accepted back into our daily lives, V’s appetite seems to have been restored. There doesn’t seem to be any fighting over getting him to eat. He told me this evening what he wanted to eat, I made it for him and he ate it all (hot dogs, toast with cheese and baby carrots and zucchini).

Not only did things go in his mouth, but nothing came out of it, half chewed and deposited into my  hand.


The farm has worked it’s magic. He is excited to go to the farm, be at the farm and leave the farm. On the way home from the farm, all he talks about is ‘the farm’ and ‘fun’.

Thank you Farm for bringing veggies back into our child’s life. Thanks for making veggies ‘fun’.

If you want to experience some lovely organics, please go here. Once this fall season arrives, I cannot even wait for the wonderful bounty that will literally erupt from this place.

Love you and love the veg…

xoxo a.m.

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Tequila fail

Update: Vince has graduated to telling me that he’s going to pee in the bathtub and forbidding me to peek in the back of his diaper. Super.

Apparently July is the month of lazy blogging. Sorry all, it’s just been one hell of a busy, dirty, sticky month.

Edward is still on Summer holiday, V is home with him and I am at work fulltime.

I feel left out.

Did you know that I have no idea how to do a tequila shot? I really thought I did but apparently, it’s true, I don’t. Actually, while I was preparing to do a shot, I realized that I had no idea what I was doing.

Thankfully I was around other skilled people, one of which literally reached across in the middle of my mini-monologue and swipe a lemon in the crux of my thumb and dusted it lightly with salt.

Yup. Tequila.

This is how a nerd does a tequila shot.

First, chew on lemon. Then, drink tequila. Finally? Lick salt. And finally finally? Drink rest of tequila.

Lord. Who am I? A 17 year old? I honestly can’t remember the last time I did a shot. And clearly neither did my mouth. Since it was the one that chose that lemon first.

Regardless, that Patron went down nicely. And the rest of that afternoon went down just as smoothly. Thanks Roys for your hospitality. And tequila. And tacos.

That blissful evening was followed by one of the exact opposite.

Screaming, puking, crying and endless cries of “Mummy too. MUMMY TOO! TOOOOOO!!”

I went to bed at about 8:30, post dinner (me) and post-puke (him). There was nothing that we could do that could make it right. Nothing at all. And certainly not his own bed, all by himself that is. As soon as I laid him down in our bed, he went to sleep. And as soon as I tried to move him somewhere else, he woke up and sobbed until I put him back.

Brutal. I mean I say that, but it really was. It wasn’t just that one time, it was multiple times. So much sobbing and crying and just general snotty noses and ickiness.

We were exhausted, still are actually.

And so? On that note, we are going to bed.

xoxoxo a.m.

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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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Update: Currently the only potty training going on over here is the fact that V and his ‘big boy pants’ are bff’s. Hallelujah! Minor win for Mummy!

As I listen to V cry off and on this evening, I realize we are in a huge pickle.

And well, since I am a huge sucker and he is now snoozing next to me on the sofa downstairs, I would say we have some issues. And they are all sleep related. And I have no idea what to do about it.

We have had so many amazing plans. They have all failed. And in fact? Things have gotten worse.

And worse at a steady rate. And I am sharing my parenting fail with you why? Because I love sharing.

Somehow the ‘I sleep in my own bed by myself’ apparently got old and tired for someone. He has retaliated by waking up in the middle, crying and working himself up into such a state that he has actually thrown up a little. And we have responded by giving in and letting him sleep with us.

And literally the minute we offer this as an option, all fussing stops. Instantly. And during the middle of the night, when one is half asleep, this does seem like a good idea.

And I guess this has developed into an unfortunate pattern and it took us a while to really realize that it was a pattern. And trying to correct the issue is a bitch.

We’ve been trying for about a week now and not much has changed. The only positive step is that I am now ‘allowed’ to sit in the chair in his room, instead of lying next to him in his bed.

And this is a huge step. And I bring my book and read until he is asleep. But this too is slowly failing as V stays awake later and later, and the light in his room grows dimmer and dimmer and I grow sleepier and sleepier. And I struggle to read in the dim light, gradually give up and then sit half asleep in the chair in the corner of the room. And then as I grow sleepier, I crawl into bed with him to the sounds of “Mummy too, Mummy too…”.


2 weeks ago, we had a particularly bad weekend. It literally was a no-sleep night every single night. By the end of the 4th of July long weekend, I was happy to go back to work as that would bring some sort of routine back to V’s life. Plus I got to sleep until 6 am and that was a total luxurious snooze compared to the 3 days previous.

Last weekend, we were at a Disney Resort. V and I slept together for 2 nights and it was the best sleep I have ever had in my whole life. V and I woke up those 2 mornings all snuggled up, our hair all entangled. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept that well. It made me sad when we checked out and headed home. I knew that my Sunday night sleep was not going to be as great as that Saturday night.

This last week, we have tried to keep him in his bed. So when he woke up every night this week screaming for us to the point of almost puking? M went and got him and slept on his bedroom floor. This worked really well for several night except M now has a sore back, V is still crying every night and then there was that one night when we didn’t hear him we were so tired. I woke up at 6 am with a Little man next to me.

It was the best night of sleep I have had all week.

So we are now thinking about things like:

A) Is it so bad that he sleeps with us from time to time?

B) If we keep letting it happen, will we be totally screwed?

C) Will this mean we will never sleep alone until V is 10?

D) Can we somehow make it work for only the weekends?

I feel like I am slowly reaching the realm of ‘I don’t care’. And the other realm of ‘Why am I fighting this?’.

Is it ok to give in? Will you judge me if V sleeps with us as he so clearly wants to? Is he having night-terrors? Is he scared of the dark? If I put another night-light in his room, will he climb up his dresser and play with it? Like he did this morning when M found him standing on his changing table?

Will I find him crushed by furniture in the morning? Do I even dare take that route?

There are a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘will I’ and ‘Is he’ thoughts circling my head.

The path we are contemplating is tricky. The road uneven. The distance? Unknown.

M and I are about to take a journey. Maybe.

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