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.

Sunday evening

Sunday night and I am home, on the couch, enjoying a quiet evening. Edward had a lot of school prep work this weekend and Vince and I spent a lot of busy time together.

Not that I don’t love every second I spend with him, but I also enjoy those times when he goes to bed early and I quietly read, knit, watch Project Runway etc and decompress.

I have the day off tomorrow. It’s Columbus Day down here but Thanksgiving up in my favorite Northern country. Last year, I attempted to celebrate it, but we spend part of the weekend in After Hours Pediatric care and the rest pumping V full of Tama-Flu and having him throw up on me.

So it’s Thanksgiving redux here tomorrow night. My day off will be spent making a roast beef dinner with yorkshire puddings, baking a pumpkin pie and taking V out for waffles at WaffleHouse (that fine upstanding Southern institution). It will be a busy, but very satisfying day. (Hopefully there will be no vomiting)

As for life over here right now? Oh lots of things going on… V is firmly anti-veg right now and I am trying to not make a huge issue of it, slipping them in when I can. He cried the other night when I gave him broccoli and cheese. Ha! Actual tears! A big ol’ pouty face and the phrase “Vincent no like it!! Vincent no like it!!!!!!!”

So broccoli is out of the picture right now, but peas and corn seem to be ok still. Food on a stick is a popular item in out house right now too.

Initially, anything that I put on a stick was devoured. I did a chicken tender covered in Almond butter (peanut allergy improv) and it was inhaled. I did a hot dog. evaporated.

Elated, I got a bit ballsy and tried kebabs with veggies. Now I should also admit that I bragged about him eating. To several people. Prior to the kebab incident.

And I believe that was my downfall… If there had been no bragging, I am convinced that the kebab would have been eatten…

As it were, that darn sentence made a reappearance “Vincent no like it. NO LIKE IT!!” and that was followed quickly by “Hotdog stick please. Please Daddy.” And so Daddy made him a hotdog on a stick and it was inhaled. Followed by a large helping of saffron rice (didn’t know he liked this, but am rather pleased).

We also hate the potty… (not even going to worry about this, just thought I’d mention it). His vocabulary is growing with leaps and bounds and his interest in books remains undiminished (this makes me so happy, you don’t even really know).

What a hodgepodge of a post this evening…

Teeny wee update and I am trying to make more of an effort to post a bit more frequently. Life seems extra busy these days. Just the way I like it…

xoxo a.m.

Cookies

Click me for deliciousness

One of my lovely Mummy friends posted a cookie recipe last Friday.

Now let me just say that we are not a big ‘sweet’ family. Well, actually, that’s a lie. We are. And we have no self-control. And so we control it by not purchasing ‘those’ types of things, otherwise Edward and I would be a million pounds. A MILLION. And this is not an exaggeration.

I was checking out the link to the recipe and got happily sucked into the whole site. Glossy photos of food, charming writing with witty anecdotes, yummy looking recipes. I mean really, how much more interesting could it get?

So on a whim I bought the cookie ingredients on Friday during my lunch hour. I never buy a bag of M&M’s. Never. In fact, just the act of buying them made my whole body quiver in anticipation of sugar, chocolate and forbidden cookies.

“Edward, I’m baking cookies tonight, so take your time coming home with V”, I said during my frantic drive home. Frantic because of my precious cargo. and I don’t mean V (he was with Daddy).

“I’ll be home at midnight. Bake all you want. In fact, bake all I want, which is a lot…” he said. Or at least it was something to that effect.

Oh M&M’s, how you completed my last Friday night.

I baked sheet after sheet of cookies. Our house smelled mouthwateringly good. I ate maybe a bit too much cookie dough, because I was kind of bouncing off the walls when the boys rolled in.

F* me these cookies were good. I skipped the peanut butter chips (V’s allergy) but added coconut which added a nice extra texture layer to the finished product.

So thanks Cari for sharing. Not only have you introduced me to another great read, but the boys are in LOVE with the cookies. And I have somehow been coerced into baking 40 tomorrow night for some teacher meeting for the big E.

xoxo a.m.

More about Twinkies

So the next morning, after I calmed myself down from the indignation I was feeling regarding the ‘Twinkie incident’, I geared myself up for bringing this up with his teachers.

His teacher in the morning, well, there is a wee bit of a language barrier. And also a ‘no sense of humour’ barrier.

“I would really appreciate it if you would not give Vince any Twinkies. We don’t eat food like that in our house and I would rather him not eat like that at school too”, is what I Canadianly said to her.

“So no sugar at all?”

“Um, no. He can eat sugar. Just not too much of the processed type and more from the natural group of things”

I think she understood. She promised me she would mention it to her co-worker. I left feeling better.

And then I thought about it all day long. And then when I pulled into the parking lot to pick V up, I decided to mention it to administration as well…

That conversation went a little better. Ms. Erika assured me that the last snack on their regimented list of meals was at 2:30 pm. There are no other snacks to be provided. There should not be any Twinkies or Doritos given to anyone. She promised to talk to the teachers that evening and I practically skipped to his classroom. V was there, snack-free, and that evening he ate all of his dinner.

The next afternoon, when I picked him up, I was not greeted with a sincere smile. Not really much of a smile at all, actually, from teacher #2. The Twinkie-giving teacher.

Hmm.

Oh well. That’s too bad that she’s taking it hard.

I feel great about it.

And this afternoon, as I wheeled V around Whole Foods and picked up a few ‘treats’ for him, I flashed back to ‘treat’ shopping with my Mum in the local Health Food store of our tiny town.

30 years later, here I am, doing the same thing with my child. Just upgraded.

Larger ‘town’, larger store, but pretty much the same person.

And while I remember hating yogurt-covered raisins and peanuts as a child… who knows? V might like them? I happen to have a container of that very item (recently purchased) in my pantry.

Funny, eh? any of you parents out there seeing yourself following in your parents footsteps?

xoxo a.m.

Snack-time

I hurried home from work with my brain a big ol’ mess of thoughts.

Get V. Pick up picnic-like dinner somewhere. Zoom home. Change to ‘park’ clothes. Grab blanket. Grab husband. Picnic. Bathtime. Bedtime. Relax with no kids time.

Lots of things whirling around in there, adjusting and readjusting these plans. You know, like normal.

I zipped into Daycare to pick up V and as I entered the building, I could hear my child’s voice echoing down the hallways. The classrooms were over heated and the doors were propped open. Vince was running around wearing a skirt with yellow and black stripes that was somewhat reminiscent of a bumblebee. His hair was all sweaty and clung in little curls around his neck and forehead.

Essentially, he looked adorable.

And in his hands he held 2 huge cookies. It was 5:15 pm. And as far as I am concerned, this is an inappropriate time for cookies. Especially since we are going home and having dinner pretty much immediately.

But wait! It gets better!

His teacher turns to me and says (and I honestly cannot figure out how my head didn’t pop off instantaneously…)…

Anyways, she says: “Oh, he didn’t like the Twinkie I gave him, so we gave him cookies instead”.

I smiled and nodded dumbly and in retrospect, I think it was just shock. Shock was what prevented me from saying anything at all.

I was all contained until I called Edward and we ripped that poorly planned snack to shreds, as well as the clever people that came up with that snack idea. I mean really. REALLY. And also ‘Come On!!!’. And “What the hell?!?!”

About a week ago, I picked up V covered in potato chip crumbs. At 5:15. And another day, I picked him (5:15) as he was stuffing his face with something that looked like Doritos (Nacho Cheese flavor that stained his fingers so badly).

I also don’t consider either of those ‘school snacks’. Not for 2 year olds.

With the chips, Edward and I figured we’d let it slide. We didn’t want him to be the only kid at snacktime that was denied and then make it difficult snacktime-wise for everyone. We were trying to be flexible.

But after the Twinkie incident, that is it.

No more amendable Mummy. I will be stern-faced and possibly finger-shaking Mummy.

I feel disappointed. I feel seriously let down. I have no problem with the menu and meals that the school produces for all of the kids. It’s very thoughtfully organized, very nutritious and healthy.

So I am unsure where these late snack ideas are coming from. And I am pretty sure that no-one is thinking of what parents would think.

Or am I wrong? I’m surely not the only Mum out there who thinks this is so totally wrong? What 2 year old needs a Twinkie?!

My idea of a yummy snack is apple slices. Or possibly grapes. Or something else tasty and crunchy and healthy.

Talking with my Mum last night I told her “You don’t realize how much you are like your Mother until you become a parent yourself”. With every meal-related decision I make, I flash back to our regular trips to Health Food stores as a child. Our yogurt-covered peanuts and raisins, sugar-free gum and fruit-juice gummy bears.

Yup. I am my mother.

But regardless, I think in this situation I might be all the mothers everywhere.

So tomorrow I am trying to leave the house early so I can have some extra time with his teachers to explain my feelings regarding these crazy late snacks and their choices. If I have to bring his own snacks in for him to eat, I will.

I’ll keep you posted on my little confab tomorrow and how it went…

xoxo a.m.

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.

Huh.

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.

Nummy.

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.

Hurray!

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.

Things that happened this weekend..

… things that I didn’t tell you.

Things you might not even care about? Or maybe you do. Aw, I know you do!! You love us!

You love Edward (who doesn’t?!). And who can’t love a saucy Canadian and a plump, cheeky 2 year old? Literally, its impossible.

V had multiple booboo’s this weekend. Some of which he announced to me while I was driving. A booboo must be kissed by Mummy, that’s just the way things go. It is very difficult to kiss a booboo when one is driving and, say, the booboo is on a plump little foot that is being thrust towards you from the back seat. And then there is crying because you don’t pull over and kiss it.

So I suggested that Vince kiss his own booboo. And to my surprise, he did. And when I finally stopped the car at our destination? He didn’t want any additional kisses from me. And then I felt hurt, because I wanted to kiss those little plump, slightly smelly feet. Sad disappointment, eh?

I went back to the organic farm this morning with V, post-thunder storm. Pulling into the makeshift parking lot, our tires clung and stuck to the mud that we churned up. And as I got out of the car and walked over to V’s side, my flip-flops slurped and stuck with every step and I had a ‘My Cousin Vinny” flashback.

Inside, we picked up a stir-fry greens pack, some farm-fresh eggs and some goats cheese. Vince picked up some basil and squished it. And so I picked that up too.

On the way home, the car had the most delicious aroma. That basil was strong, it permeated everything. I literally would have rubbed it on my wrists, the aroma was so gorgeous.

Post-farm trip, I hit the sidewalks for another run. A repeat 5k, just in my immediate neck of the woods. Of course, I run as a super-thunder storm approaches. Mid mile number 2, Edward calls: “Do you want me to pick you up? I saw lightning.”

Me: “No, I think I’m ok. I haven’t seen any here. It isn’t raining yet either. I’ll call you”.

This? Because I was determined to do 3 miles and was pissed that I’d logged 1 1/2. And happily ignored the suspiciously black clouds that looked like they might be maybe right on top of me.

7 minutes later, I rang Edward “Hey!! Hi! Can you pick me up?!?!”. Oh his face was something to behold when he picked up my wet, smiling mug at the shelter of the YMCA overhang.

My response? Pure cheek.

Literally that is the only thing that would have been a good response. He is Italian, after all….

xoxo a.m.

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.

Keys (and tonsils)

This might be the final installment in my tonsillitis saga. Why? Because I think I might be getting better!! My throat does not feel like I am swallowing razors, I have a teeny bit of energy and I got an extra 5 hours of sleep this morning. And I can eat real food. Well, I am about to eat real food and then go straight to bed and curl up with my bff Buffy.

So I decided not to inflict my disease on the office and kindly stayed home. Very nice of me, I thought. There was rather a lot of sleep. And rather a lot of Buffy. And rather a lot of Slurpees.

Post-morning nap, I woke up with a really sore throat and the thought of icey cold Coke slurpees on my mind. Still in an antibiotic coma, I stumbled downstairs grabbed my wallet and phone and headed for the back door.

I opened it, turned the lock and then looked at the lock. “What was I doing again”, I thought out-loud, “Oh, yeah, getting my keys”. I reached for my keys, stopped and then reached to lock the door again. I obsess about making sure the doors are locked.

I walked outside, shut the door and then reached in my pocket for my keys to lock the deadbolt.

Except they weren’t there. They were still in the house, on the freakin’ kitchen counter. It literally took my brain a good minute to figure out what I had done. Those antibiotics are really strong. I actually tried to jimmy a window open, bare-handed, so I guess it really doesn’t count as ‘jimmy-ing’. That didn’t work out either.

I am so glad I had my phone. And I am so glad that my father-in-law is retired. And I am so glad that he was out driving around, because 15 minutes later he pulled up to our house with a huge grin. And laughing as he stepped into my courtyard with the spare key. He unlocked and left, laughing.

“Well, I bet that was embarrassing,” M said later when I told him what happened. “How did you manage to do that?”

“I don’t even know,” I replied honestly. “I really needed a slurpee.”

“Jame, thats just sad.”

“I know.”

And then he laughed at me. And later, apparently, called his Dad and told him it was OK to block my calls from now on. And then they laughed at me together. Nice.

My ‘antics’ are a source of much amusement for my husband. Even when those ‘antics’ are done while I am feeble, infirm and plague-ridden and barely able to walk or think.

Dude.

Anyways, the slurpee was extremely tasty and soothing. A few hours later I went back for another one.

We now have  a spare key that we hide in the garage.

My throat doesn’t hurt enough for Slurpees to be an emergency.

I am going to work tomorrow.

I am better!! (ish)

X-Ray

V and I went to the Hospital yesterday.

As I learned, it is certainly a nice thing to know a little about where you are going. So, for example, you don’t park on the opposite side of the building and then have to trot in heels carrying a 32 pound child on your hip(s).

Unfortunately, I didn’t. And so I used “Hi!! I’m not sure if I need to be here or somewhere else! Can’t you help me?”repeatedly plus a cheerful tone of voice. This got me up to the 3rd floor and then down to the first and then, happily, to the exact opposite of where my car was (building-wise).

20 minutes late I arrived at admissions. As I plunked V down on the admissions counter, that plunk issued a rather strong odor that mushroom-clouded around my face and that of the girl inputting our info. I think she typed a little faster. The stink got stronger, the typing got faster.

Oh my little stinker… Although I was concerned about being late for the x-ray, I NEEDED to change that bum. And while we were getting changed, we met a crazy lady.

“Oh baby oh baby oh baby, good baby boy good. If you are good Mummy will give you candy! Yes, you will get candy! I will give you candy!!” she cried as she walked past us on her way to a bathroom stall. Who was she? Um, I didn’t know. But at the thought of her offering V candy, I did the quickest change ever, super washed my hands and did a runner.

Yikes.

Ok. X-ray. Here we come. And there we stayed. In the waiting room. Forever. The odor of poo followed us in there. And why did it follow us? Well, that’s because there was more poo. Of course there was. And of course it was the last diaper. (“The last diaper? How is that even possible?” M asked me later. He got a total huge side-eye for that one) And of course we went right from the bathroom directly to a small enclosed waiting room. And, well, you know… That is just my life.

One lead vest later, we attempted the test. V was not cooperative. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be either. The first shot was ok. A standing profile. There we were, facing each other, trying to let the tech get a side shot. I knelt down to a bit more to be on his level and well, darn it, he knelt down too. So cute!! It wasn’t quite what was needed to get the shot, but it sure made me laugh…

I didn’t know they needed to do 2 shots but apparently it’s a requirement. The second shot was a horizontal shot. I had to lower him onto a table, hold his head still and with the other arm, pin his arms down while the tech held his legs. He was so scared he couldn’t even move. He just cried and lay still while Mummy whispered ‘brave boy’ over and over again. Ick.

But before all of this?

While we were waiting, V got a little restless. And by little, I mean a lot. We took a walk and encountered the ‘Disney Pavilion’ at the hospital. It was a whole interactive jungle themed corner, with characters from The Jungle Book and Finding Nemo. Quite cute actually, but something about it hit V the wrong way. And then he saw a monkey and it terrified him.

“No monkey no monkey no monkey no monkey,” he whimpered. This was quickly followed by “No fish no fish no fish no fish” when we left the pavilion and walked past an aquarium. Huh.

No fish and no monkey followed us all the way through both waiting rooms, the scan room, the actual scan, back up to the 3rd floor, down to the 1st and through the parking garage, all the way home in the rain and into the house.

“Daddy!! No fish!!!!!!! Noooooooo monkey,” he shouted on our arrival home.

And this morning when he woke up?

“Mummy!! Mummmmmmmmmy! No fish. No. No fish. No monkey. Monkey? NO monkey.”

Isn’t it funny how it is the little things that affect the most? It’s the fish and the monkeys and the butterflies (right Tara?). And so I wonder today as I listened to him talk about monkeys and fish, will these things be a permanent scar? Did I just accidently scar my child for life? Were those fish and that monkey so scary, plus the X-ray, that those three things are now permanently burned together and will always be associated?

Lord, I hope not! No more trips to the zoo for us.

On the plus side of things, the x-ray showed that his adenoids are not enlarged. They are normal. It did, however, show 4 molars. 4 new molars that haven’t shown up ye., 4 molars that are, apparently, about about to totally erupt through his jaw at any moment.

Sweet!!!!!!! Awesome!!!!!!! Dude!!! (3 words of V’s that seem appropriate)

For real, I know you are so jealous. Right?

xoxo a.m.