Tag Archives: Love

Buddha

Every morning as V and I are driving to daycare, we pass a rather lovely Buddhist temple. And there is a huge sign at the entrance, one that always seems to be enticing me to just pull right in.

But, usually, it’s 7 am. And it’s closed.

And also, usually, my son is extremely sticky, which just doesn’t seem temple appropriate.

For the last few weeks, the sign has been advertising an upcoming festival and I felt that this was a sign (which it was) and also a ‘sign’. I should go! I should bring my three-year-old! Monks don’t mind kids, right? What could possibly go wrong!

Well, my memory for one. V and I showed up at the temple yesterday. And even though I saw the sign that said ‘Ceremony 5-15-2011’ and yesterday was clearly the 14th, I pulled my big girl pants up a little and drove in anyways.

I mean, so what, right? It’s open to the public. I can just go and check it out. Right? Jaw clenched, I drove into the parking lot and then for no reason at all, followed the car in front of me around the temple. All around the back, passed the pond, the basketball hoop and that random guy on his cell phone near what looked like monk quarters to me and parked. Right next to the car I was following.

He peered in my window as he walked past us. I pretended I was busy doing something and tried to avoid eye contact. I extracted V from the car, brushed him off in the parking lot and, holding hands, we bravely headed in.

I should note that I used to be extremely uncomfortable doing things like this. Edward used to joke that when we lived in Japan, he was surprised I went anywhere. But I am a big girl now, I can go where I want to. Really.

We were inside for about a minute. It smelled soothing. A lot of people were very, very busy doing things that looked rather important. On the other side of the main entrance, a hall extended filled with chairs ending with an enormous Buddha and a monk lovingly tending to the area surrounding him.

I know that sounds rather vague, but upon seeing Buddha, Vince promptly stated “I wanna go dere.” and attempted to drag me ‘dere’. So we left. Planning on coming back today

Which we did. All three of us. How lovely! It was a lovely morning full of chanting and praying. We wandered aimlessly amongst the shaved ice, mochi and assorted religious paraphernalia. We did not buy raffle tickets. We listened to the monks and with every step, V tried to drag us into the temple.

We finally were dragged up to the front of the temple by V, where some interesting things were going on. Several people were very busy putting the finishing touches on the most gorgeous fresh flowers surrounding numerous little buddha statues, which were standing in a beautiful fountain. Ceremonial ladles were next to each one, for the ‘washing the buddha’ ceremony.

V and washed Buddha. First we washed him the wrong way. “Not on the head, just on the shoulders…” Glad that we watched some other people who didn’t know what they were doing wash Buddha the wrong way too. Yikes!

Anyways, we washed him together, thought thoughtful things about cleansing, peace and love. Slipped a donation in a red envelope and gave it to a lovely woman who told Vince he was the cutest Gator fan ever. Even though he was wearing a Giants jersey.

It was, honestly, a lovely way to start the day… pictures to follow once I find my card-reader.

xoxo to all my sweet, peaceful and thoughtful readers.

a.m.

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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.

SNUCK!

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.

Shoot.

xoxo a.m.

(and xoxo to Georgia and bbq too)

 

 

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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.

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Vincent

So this evening, I went and read something on the internet that I haven’t read in a while. I used to read it every day, as it was hanging on my apartment wall when I lived in Canada, in my 20’s.

Hadn’t read it in a while. So thought I’d look it up this evening and it was just like coming home. Reading and smiling along with every verse. For even after so many years, each line still rings true.

I am a child of the Universe.

I do have a right to be here.

And whether or not it’s clear to me, the Universe is unfolding as it should.

So every step, path and decision that I take is the right one, leading me in the direction that has already be determined for me. And my husband. And my child.

It is a funny thing to contemplate. And a beautiful thing to reread. I strongly encourage you to read it if you haven’t. It really does speak the truth.

Please enjoy reading it HERE.

And as for us down here in Florida?

Well, V has a newly rearranged room. With a ‘library’. AKA a bookshelf in his closet that he is so excited about I don’t know if I can even out it into words.

I bought it at Target and put it together this afternoon with V looking on. With every shelf I put in place V clapped his hands and said “Good job Mummy!!! Yay!! Mummy nice!”

And then every time he got the chance, he would run his little chubby hands over the shelves and say to himself “Nice…. nice. Pretty.”

How interesting is it to see these likes and dislikes develop.

So the library is now in place and instantly the room has changed from a baby room to a big boy room. He even lies down on the floor so I can change his pants. And does it so natural, like “Hey Mum! We should have been doing this from the start!”

So thank you life, for all these changes. While kind of abrupt and scary at times, I know the path is right.

The corners true and the change necessary.

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Mama

To my Mum… for being the best everything. Thank you.

To my Auntie… for being the other best everything. Really you are my other Mum and I feel pretty lucky to have two of you.

To Talia… Welcome to that amazing club that binds us all together. Kiss sweet Daniel for me and give him a little neck snuzzle.

And to all of the other women in my life, whether you are a mother yourself or not… Thank you for being in my life. Whether I talk to you often or not, you all (and you know who you are) are constantly in my thoughts.

So I’m sending the love out there today. Hope you can feel it heading your way…

xoxo a.m. and from Vince as well

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Talia

Sweet wee Vincent....

This is just a self-indulgent post about Vincent. Mostly.

Post bath, V climbed up on his bed with his ‘Puppy book’ and said “Mama too? Mama too. Mummy too!” How on earth is one supposed to resist that. Really. Must have a total heart of stone.

Since I am a huge sucker, up I climbed and proceeded to marvel at all of those puppies. Puppies are right at the top of the ‘love’ list at the moment.

While he sat on his bed and turned those pages, my fingers toyed with the most adorable baby curls you have ever seen in your life. Slightly damp from the bath curls. Hair sticking up  all over the place. Sweet little tender neck, smelling like Dove bodywash. Fat little tummy peeking out between diaper and slightly too small pajama top.

While he counted those dogs and giggled and squirmed away from my kisses, I stroked those curls and tickled that fat belly.

And then?

I cried.

And why? Well, one of my favorite ladies in the whole world (and a genetic lady at that). Ok, my sweet cousin. Who might as well be my sister, we are that close (that’s what you do in Canada).

Well, that sweet lady is in labour with her first little boy right now. So while I was driving home this evening, talking to her quickly between contractions. And then while I held on when she told me “Here comes a big one” and it went silent for quite a while. And then, while I was holding, I got all teared up.

The first baby is a special thing for every single woman and man. And looking at my little man and thinking of Tal and Sean embarking on this awesome voyage that is parenthood…

Apparently all I can do is stroke some sweet baby curls, wish I was there to offer my arms to lean on and support and cry just a little bit.

It’s just a little bit, Tal, not a lot.

Love you.

xoxo a.m.

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Sweet

Reading over my last few posts, I feel like I have fallen into a rut of sharing only the ‘poo, crying and general unpleasantness’ stories that is my life. I hope you don’t think that is the only things that happen over here. Nice things happen too. And sweet things.

V’s vocab is expanding by leaps and bounds right now. Current phrases:

“Awesome dude!”

“No Monkey”

No car shoes” (Pushing aside his ‘Lightening McQueen’ shoes and dragging  out his Spiderman shoes instead)

Random pig and cow noises and, sometimes if we are really lucky, the sweetest kitty and baby bird noises too.

“Bubbles?!?!” (to his bubble bucket on the bac k porch)

“Mummy, park? No park.” (as it started raining on the way home yesterday)

‘Mumma, push?” (to me in the garage. He likes to watch the door go up and down)

M just taught him how to tickle and so there is extra cute laughter in our house lately. V’s tickle technique is so funny.

He approaches you with one finger extended and pokes you once, and then leaves that finger there. “Tickle.” he says solemnly. And you are expected to giggle like a crazy person. Lord help you if you do not.

He has recently become totally obsessed with Chewie the Chihuahua. Poor Chewie… it’s almost too much attention for him (and since all he wants is constant attention, that is saying a lot). V wants Chewie to say ‘good night’ to him every night. He wants to see Chewie every morning when he wakes up. He wants to play tug-of-war with him all day long and wants to pat him all day too. This tends to make bedtime rather difficult.

It also makes bedtime rather cute. So do V’s requests for me to stay in the chair next to his bed. “Mumma, chair? Mumma. CHAIR.”

So even though there are the most ridiculous poop-filled events going on over here. Even though I feel like we are on the verge of maxing out our medical benefits for the year on the little man. Even though there are a large amount of molars on the horizon. And even though it sometimes feels like I am drowning in vomit, poo, tears and emotional exhaustion…there are too many overriding sweet things happening at the same time that sometimes might get ignored or pushed to the wayside a little.

I promise to make a better effort to balance out these posts so you are all not making frowny faces while you read. I really want you to make some happy faces! Or at least some kind of happy faces.

Off to watch Cap’t Kirk rescue some whales in the 80’s…

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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Grin

Having now weathered the worst of Daylight Savings in our house, M and I are taking a brain downtime break. It involves not talking and eating pie. Currently, this is working well for both of us.

Yay pie!!

In the days since the time change, every day seems to get a little better. Although bedtime is now combined with copious screaming. That’s when I curse the lighter evening sky and seriously consider blackout shades.

Boo venetian blinds!

Anyways, V lately is a little monster. He teeters between sweet and mischievous.

Teacher: “Vince learned to say ‘I love you’ today!! Vince….. ‘Love you!!”

Vince: “Wuv ooo”

Me: “Aw!!! Vince!!  I love you!!

Vince: “No.”

Can you say broken heart? I tried so hard to not let that show, but it actually hurt. Isn’t it funny how those little things sting?

And then last night, after wailing away upstairs for a while,  I gave in and climbed to the second floor and cracked the door. There he was, jumping in his crib, crying and sounding so forlorn.

Ok, I am a sucker. And V has some mad manipulative skills.

In I went and scooped that Little Man up, thinking that a snugs in the big bed would calm him down.

I carried him into our room and up we climbed and pulled the duvet over us. There we lay, face to face, and Vince had the hugest toothy grin. He was so pleased that he won, you could just tell.

Face to face, we grinned at each other.

Then I laughed.

Then he laughed.

And the more I laughed, the more he laughed. There we were, just grinning and gazing at each other, laughing away. It was just the most gorgeous 10 minutes of my life.

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Tush

Sometimes thinks that I need to have more Cham-pag-knee in my life.

Especially after this weekend.

And not that it was anything that awful, it’s just that it was all awful.

M has tonsillitis. And V is now allergic to Milk. There was projectile vomiting, diarrhea and severe diaper rash going on over here.

1) Tonsillitis. Antibiotics. Steroids. Magic Mouthwash. Literally he was sick for days before I forced him to go and see a doctor. The doctor told him that tonsillitis was contagious (which it is). He’d been sick for5 days at that time. He came home and refused to touch anyone.
“Jame, I’m contagious!”

Oh you dramatic Italian you. You are lucky that I love you, or you’d be dead. My patience had run out 3 days prior to this doctors visit, so you can just imagine how I greeted this exciting news. And also just how loving I was.

2) Projectile vomit. I hate you.

V has started coughing again. And Saturday was a rough coughing day. He came toddling over to me in the middle of the afternoon and climbed up into my lap and put his head on my chest. Oh dear. I immediately know something must be wrong as the only time he seeks out a cuddle is when he is feeling poorly.

He started coughing so violently that automatically my hand went up in front of his mouth. Good thing too since he started throwing up! A small quantity ended up in my hand while the rest of it ended up everywhere else. Pants, shirt, floor, chair, baby etc. When he was done, all I could do was sit there in shock with a hand full of vomit. And just what do you do with that? There I was, sitting in my computer chair with V in my lap, holding some puke.

I just had to rub it into my pants, suck it up and try to not throw up.

3) Milk allergy. No idea. But I swear since we found this out, he has had constant diarrhea. Sweet. And today? The day before we go and see the allergist? More diarrhea and the worst diaper rash ever. So bad, so bad and it just snuck up on us. So bad that I couldn’t even clean his bum properly he cried and screamed so much. It was so red, and red all the way up the front if you know what I mean *cough* the boys *cough cough*.

Poor little man. Poor big man. Poor Mummy.

So as Monday comes, I am crying tears of happiness.

Allergist. Diarrhea. Tonsillitis. Milk. Yay Monday.

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