Revenge pee

Things to Google:

Revenge Pee

And, of course, it is my son that leads me to Google things like this. The majority of knowledge I have gained from my son in the last 3 years is urine and feces related. Google is my best friend. It has helped me learn  lots of things, most of which are regarding how to remove odors and stains from various fabric-type materials.

For the last 3 weeks or so, a particular pattern has been developing. One which has, honestly, been rather hard to figure out. Periodically V will just pee. A sort of no-warning situation. Often times it’s as a result of a stressful situation, or a situation he just doesn’t approve of. Or, mostly, something he disapproves of.

Or we’d fight, he’d cry and then pee on the floor. Through his shorts. Or, I’d say no, he’d cry and then pee on the floor. Sometimes he’d just run off to a corner of the livingroom, pretend to play with his toys and then announce “Mummy. I peed. Right der.”

*sigh*

But finally I made the connection. Revenge pee. Dude.

Telling one of my friends about my theory, she thought “Did you see if there is anything online? Probably there is a Mum that has dealt with it already…”

Well, I did learn a whole bunch of interesting stuff about people who take revenge on other people by peeing on their stuff. Animals too. Not peeing on animals, I mean. Just animals that revenge pee. That’s what you get when you Google ‘revenge pee’.

When, however, you Google ‘Children pee’ you get all sorts of shizzle. Info that, frankly, I have no interest in really reading as I am living the dream and am pretty sure that all Mum’s are doing the same things that I am. There honestly is not that many actual options.

Comfort (if it was indeed an accident) or reassure.

Obviously clean up is a MAJOR part of the operation.

As of yet, there is no punishment. It is so a total ‘f-you Mummy, let me have my own way!!’ that I pretty much cannot have any real reaction. Maybe an eyebrow raise. Oh, and a Mummy-face. One that I am still perfecting as it has a 50-50 response rate.

Today was a good day though. No revenge peeing. Plus V actively asking to use the potty. AND he pooped. TWICE. ON the potty.

Despite my total exhaustion and low levels of everything (Family health issues that I will not be discussing, except to say that there are some. They make me sad. And I am trying very hard to be adult about them), V filled that potty the m-f-ing up.

Which, I admit, in hind-sight type-wise sounds a little gross, but for real. We were super high-fiving each other and I did not have to clean up any poo from any non-toilet surface today.

Now I have totally lost my train of thought. Pretty sure it’s about pee. Probably poo too. It is my life, after all.

Anyways, any tips on surviving revenge peeing?

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)

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.

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)

 

 

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.

Knitting. Again.

Knitting is entirely to blame for my lack of, well, anything social these days.

After last years crochet-fail, all crafty things were put aside. Plus, once it started to get hot down here I forgot all about indoor crafts and focused instead on swimming, running, walking etc.

However, it is now officially Fall.

And Florida knows that because the temperature has dropped about 4 degrees…

With the arrival of cooler weather, my thoughts have turned to the pursuits of Autumn and Winter. And crafts. And knitting.

I drove to Michael’s  on my lunch break one day and picked up some gorgeous yarn. All sorts of eggplant purples, marigolds, burnt oranges and raspberries. Lovely, glowy jewel-like colours. So beautiful, actually, that it was hard to wait until I got home to play them.

Lovely bamboo knitting needles to go with it all, which I have to admit make the most wonderful click-clacking noise. Which I think sound much nicer than metal needles.

Anyways, so all I am doing with my spare time is click-clacking away on the couch like an old lady. And then click-clacking away at work on my lunch break. It’s very soothing. I feel pleased to have something else to do with my hands in the cold, harsh Floridian Autumn.

In between cleaning up puke and poo, I mean. You know, because that is the other thing that is constantly waxing and waning in our household.

Right now it waxing. It’s been a very very long day. One that started very very early with a relatively healthy little boy. And then proceeded to regress as the day progressed. Not that he himself was out of sorts or in poor spirits. He just had a really upset stomach. Something I sadly didn’t know about until we were leaving the library this morning and walking out to the car, when I noticed that it smelled like poo.

I honestly thought it was sewage or something (which it was, in a manner of speaking). I remember thinking “God, it smells like shit out here. How gross for the library!”. And as we got into the car and began driving away, the smell got stronger.

How mysterious.

I didn’t make the connection at all, not until I noticed a discolouration on my arm.

Ewwwwwwwwwwww. I am just going to leave it at that. It was really too awful to want to remember. Plus, it was disgusting. Plus, really gross.

I had to buy him new clothes. I had to clean my arm. I had to go to my in-laws to clean up this whole mess (as we were out running errands when this all happened and nowhere near home)

Ugh.

And then we went home. And Vince and I watched Cars. And I knitted.

A soothing, healing way to end a day that became, well, crappy.

xoxo a.m.

Still here

Update: There is still no bum on the potty seat. In fact, his teachers told me that he has absolutely no interest in it. Despite many of his little friends being rather interested in it. And so we are shelving that for the moment and focusing on perfecting our “drink from a cup’ skillz. Which, apart from the occasional ‘shake shake shake’ incident, is proceeding nicely…

Life just seems to have gotten really busy over here. V has been having a bit of a rough adjustment to school. Well, mostly to me leaving his room. Ideally, I think he thinks I should stay there all day, crouched on the floor next to where he is sitting, or next to his classroom window, hunting for squirrels on the playground. And then probably curled up next to him on his wee cot.

There are rather a lot of tears when I leave the room. And some mornings we don’t even make it into his classroom… we detour to his old classroom to see his favorite ‘Ms Susan’ in K1 and get hugs.

Lots of morning battles over going to school, wearing our school shirt, turning into his school’s driveway etc etc. And then battles about taking bathes and going to bed in the evening. Edward and I are now fully committed to staying on his bed until he has drifted off. This is the only thing that works. Sometimes we drift off too. I have rescued E from the room many occasion. He has caught me dozing off too.

All of this fun stuff, all these little battles and late night cuddles results in us being worn out! And V’s latest? A 3:30 wake-up call with very loud crying and demands for the ‘big big bed’. We both slowly wake-up and then, after 20 minutes of very sad noises, we give in and he practically leaps into our bed.

So I guess the point of this post this evening is to let you know that WE ARE STILL HERE! AND STILL ALIVE!

And further thrilling posts about urine, feces and general chaos will be coming soon. I am sure you are all looking forward to it…

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.

Frogs

I kicked a frog yesterday morning.

I think it was a shock to both of us.

I honestly wasn’t expecting him to land on my foot mid-trot and kick him off. Or do a squeamish dance in the middle of the running path.

OR repeat that exact same thing 30 seconds later. Ugh!!

Oh my lord. And with every step I took after that, it was frogs a plenty and I feel like I danced and twirled all through my run. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have been that bad but I was aiming for more hardcore stamina as opposed to Dancey McDanceathon. At 5:50 am.

And so this morning, I had the Plague of frogs on my mind when I headed off this early a.m. to get my run on. Ever since my Friday 5k, I am loving hitting the pavement. LOVE IT. As in, might divorce Edward and have a handfasting ceremony with the pavement in front of my house, wherein I start my running.

Anyways, this morning there were no frogs. There were also no birds, ducks, dogs, deer or spider webs (that I always seem to run through with my mouth open. Ick.)

Compared to the virtual rain of frogs from yesterday, the complete dearth of frogs this morning was oppositely bizarre.

I cannot help but think that this week is waxing and waning in terms of the number of frogs I have seen. And tomorrow I am anticipating to see none. Since I am not going running at all.

Hm. Did I disappoint you?

Mummy needs a rest, especially since I literally had a breakdown when I got home this evening and was banished to a hot tub relaxathon with a glass of wine by my husband. With strict instructions to not come out.

Best banishment ever.

Love you Edward…

xoxoxo a.m.

(Love you frogs too….)

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.