Babies. Oh, and zombies.

This may or may not apply to parenthood.

Hey, so remember when I said something along the lines of ‘Gosh, second babies are a piece of cake!!” Well, as it turns out, this is mostly true.

‘Mostly true’ being the operative term for when that second baby is really little. The older and older wee second baby gets, the less like a piece of cake they become. They get more complicated, more along the lines of a tiramisu, or a baklava. Way more layers, more intricate and difficult and way sweeter too.

They are not content to just lie there and gaze adoringly at their mother. Although, in hindsight, this is mostly happening in baby magazines and not at all in real life.

They want to do THINGS. And they are unsure of what these THINGS are, and so there is a lot of crying while they discover what kind of THINGS they like to do. THINGS may or may not include: grabbing ones toes, stuffing hands in mouths, pooping, eating more, wiggling, rolling everywhere. You get the picture.

And while this has all been going on, I’ve been trying a lot of new things:

A mild form of the Paleo-diet.

Cutting out wheat from my daily intake.

Crocheting a damn blanket.

Major addiction to the Zombies! Run app for iPhone. (This is a sad addiction, but it’s pushing me to exercise almost daily. And I delight in being chased by zombie mobs. DELIGHT.)

My random delight in the fact that not only did I love John Carter, but my discovery via an awesome high school friend that it was based on books. Books that I’ve downloaded and am now obsessed with.

Hanging with my soccer moms. Weekly dinner parties have assured that, for practically the first time ever, I have a social life.

I’ve been gazing longingly at my laptop, dreaming of quiet moments to type away. I swear my laptop has been gazing back at me… It’s being dreaming of me stroking it’s keyboard again. There are a lot of distractions lately…

Zombies, fun elimination diets, cool old sci-fi stories, soccer moms….

Yup, life is busy and great.

And I promise to share more of it with you…

xoxo a.m.

And back to work I go: First steps

I enjoy a pipe once in a while… (instagram bitches)

So it’s the end of May and guess what? I’m going back to work.

I was pregnant yesterday. Don’t you remember? I have to admit that I have to concentrate to remember myself. Eleanor was first and foremost a dream. And then an unexpected reality. And then vividly and sometimes violently present, in a manner of speaking.

One day, she was in two places at once. That’s how amazing she is.

And then, suddenly, we were a family of four.

If you asked me 15 years ago (and it pains me to even have to use that number to go back far enough in my past), I never would have imagined myself with two children. And now I can’t imagine myself without.

This past week I packed it in with Vince and Eleanor. Edward told me I was crazy pretty much every morning when I told him what my plans for the day were. But you know what? Grocery shopping is the big test with two kids. If you can manage that, then it’s safe to say that everything else really can be that easy. He has yet to experience it and therefore doesn’t thoroughly understand. Jerk.

Afternoon stroll

Therefore the Zoo and Gatorland are totally doable. The Brevard County Zoo is amazing and I’m not even a big zoo fan. You know… animals… cages… Makes me slightly uncomfortable. Not the biggest fan. But there happened to be animatronic dinosaurs and that is always a winner. And a splash-pad. Ignoring the fact that we were yelled at by a zoo employee for splashing in an, apparently, inappropriate area (assholes), it was amazing.

Mummy! I love gators. A lot.

And Gatorland? Gatorland has a train. AND, obviously, gators. AND PopPop came and met us. And nobody yelled at us. AND there were hotdogs. Win!

We hit Disney up too. Vince has been dying to go, has mentioned it non-stop for weeks. We finally managed to get a date that worked for all of us. And as a bonus for me, my lovely cousin was able to join us. Since the boys rode all rides possible and Eleanor and I just hung around, it was awesome that she was there to assist in mocking tourists non-stop. It’s an easy job, but someones gotta do it. And she does it well.

Friday was a day I was proud of. I took Vince to the library AND he used  his inside voice THE WHOLE TIME. And nobody yelled at us like the week before.

So I guess you can boil down the things that I taught my son in the last few weeks to be the following:

How to use a remote control

How to operate the dvd player

How to open the front door and run down the street (wait… what?)

How to pee like Daddy does (What? Wait…. Didn’t he already know how t…. Oh. No. Nope. he didn’t. So glad I learned that…)

How to pick up his sister and carry her around like a sac of potatoes (this was not taught, he learned all by himself)

How to identify his sister as ‘his’ and ‘not yours, Mummy’.

How to fluently use the term ‘sweetie-pie’ and ‘big-brother’ and neither used in a creepy manner.

How to pick up and carrying around our chihuahua, in a manner that does not invite dog-bites. Mostly.

How to (help me) make scrambled eggs. And also how to (help me) do the laundry.

Tomorrow I head back into the office. After dropping Ms Eleanor off at daycare for the first time of course. I am hoping that everything goes smoothly. For me, I mean.

Second time through being a mum is way easier. I might have mentioned this before and it’s completely true. You know what to expect this time and I found myself pretty much not fazed by anything. Poop, pee, coughing, rectal thermometers, crying, rashes… whatever. It’s just so much easier to handle mentally because, in my case especially, everything awful that could have happened already has. In some case, it’s happened repeatedly.

Even daycare is easier to approach and so I’ve been gearing up for it for the last couple of weeks. Most likely I’ll still be a mess tomorrow, that’s just my emotional m.o. I am a Cancer, after all. But this time around, I am way more confident in my choice of a caretaker (Vince’s school) for my sweet girl. {ie: She’s not staying in someones garage and that someone won’t lie to us and disappear months later. Still weirded out about that.} (also that sounded way worse when I wrote it out than it actually was. Honest.)

Regardless, it will always be hard to leave your child for the first time. And after weeks of Eleanor daily sweetness, and about a month of gummy grins and gooey little noises I know that it won’t be a cake-walk.

So wish me luck tomorrow. I will be keeping it together.

xoxo a.m.

Monday Recap (now with more urine!)

Just about 2 more weeks left before I return to work and I have to admit that after Monday, right around 8:30 in the morning, I was positively longing for it. Mostly because there were people there that I could effectively communicate with. Most of the time, that is. And even if I did have to deal with cranky patients all day, surely that would be better than what I had just gone through.

I’m sure you are curious. Let me just say it involves urine. And a lot of it. If you aren’t that interested in reading about pee then I suggest you stop now. Because pretty much that’s what this whole post is about…

My son is a bit of a handful, to say the least. And upon reflection, that really might be all boys/girls/children right on the cusp of 4. I am pretty sure I’ve talked about this before, sorry if it’s boring. But I know you parents out there with children around this age are sympathizing. And drinking.

Vince has A LOT of energy. And A LOT of drama. And a NEW BABY SISTER. And a MUMMY WHO NEEDS MORE SLEEP. And I do my very best to keep him entertained and engaged as the days pass. We do some crafts, some scissor skills things, practice tracing letters and numbers. We do regular outings to the library and used book stores. We do all sorts of stuff.

So I figured Monday was going to be something busy. You know, because I plan Monday on Monday morning. Except I woke up exhausted and could barely get out of bed. What was that all about? I have no idea. Somehow I managed to bribe Vince to snuggling in my bed and watching Phineas and Ferb while Mummy slept. And then, once I was done that, take a shower. And it while I was taking that illicit shower that it began.

Things not to do in public parks: A Guide

'Mummy! Daddy said I could!"

 

So today I assisted my son in committing a crime.

A crime of public urination.

I had no choice though, I had to assist him. He couldn’t get his pants off by himself. Oh, and we were 20 minutes away from the house on a walk and there (obviously) was no public bathroom nearby.

And this is how it all went down:

Vince: Mummy! I have to go pee! Can I go pee outside? Daddy said I could.

(interestingly, Daddy was nowhere to be seen, mainly because he was at work many many miles away… But I digress)

Me: Ummm….

Vince: Daddy said I could…(and this was the point where he started pulling down his pants while walking away from me, so clearly whatever Daddy says {whenever it was that he said it] goes)

Me: Um, ok. Well, let’s go over here, in the bushes.

And just to clarify, we were at a park a little bit from our house and there was NO way that we would make it back in time to not have an accident. And also, isn’t this just what men do anyways? Pee everywhere both in and out of doors? So this is training. Right?

So I led him over to this little copse of trees by the lake and helped him get his pants down and he let it go. His pants had to go down all the way of course, so there just was no way at all we could even pretend to be discreet about the whole thing

All I could think about was that every single person in the neighbourhood was, right at this very moment, standing at their living room window with their faces pointed in exactly our direction. Judging us. Even that squirrel was judging us, judging us with his beady squirrel eyes…(also, I cannot spell squirrel to save my life). I honestly thought I was going to get some irate person barreling down the park sidewalk to harangue me about my public behavior. I was judging me too, if that makes you feel any better. I’d never done anything like this before.

Ok, let me clarify…. I’VE done things like this before, but that was when I was much, much, much younger. And silly. And probably camping or something. Or drinking. Or whatever, anyways… the point is that I’d never done this with my son before. I kept wondering things like “Gosh, I wish he didn’t pull his pants all the way down to his ankles. At least if he just pulled them down a teeny bit, we could be more discreet.” and “How on earth did he not go before we left the house?” and finally “Where is he keeping all that pee?! It’s a floodgate!”

Of course, the whole time he was saying things like “Daddy said I could” and “Daddy says it’s OK”.

Oh! I get it! It’s a new stage! Aha!

I discussed this with Edward later and he agreed that Vince was busting out the ‘Mummy says it’s OK’ with him too. And Edward, being Edward, believed him. Lesson: Don’t believe the majority of what your almost 4 year old tells you. Because he has learned to lie and he will lie through his teeth. Endlessly and forever. About everything.

But also he told me that he’d let Vince pee outside before when they were at that park. So Vince was, in a way, telling the truth. He just neglected to mention that Daddy had said it was OK quite awhile ago. And hadn’t said it since. To my knowledge anyways. And I am not even sure if I want to know that answer. I think I’ll leave it between the guys… (like penis cleaning, that’s the kind of thing I don’t really want to be involved in. Just about as much as Edward wants to be in cleaning his daughter’s ‘bits’)

Anyways, he didn’t have an accident in his pants so as far as I’m concerned it was a win!

xoxo a.m.

Boxing Day

 

Whee! Sleep!

 

 

In years past, I have experienced the ‘Boxing Day’ sadness. Too much anticipation of the day prior, which leads to understanding feelings of sadness the day following.

This year,it wasn’t the same. I was anticipating it, yes. But this morning when I woke up, apart from a crappy nights sleep and some bruised ribs from being kicked repeatedly by my precious little angel, things were good. In fact, I enjoyed my 6:30 wakeup kick and cry festival.

And I enjoyed the rest of the day in all of it’s chaos. Even the lack of naps, total house destruction, fighting, timeouts and general disarray. It was all good.

Pretty much it seems that I no longer have time for any kind of post-Christmas emotional wallow. I am in high demand around my castle and as much as I would love to indulge, it just isn’t prudent.

So today, V and I got up at 6:30, had toast and yogurt, went to target, went to BestBuy, stopped by the in-laws for a quick visit, came home, ran 3.5 miles, did laundry, cleaned and rearranged the upstairs.

V was just a wee bit spoiled this year. Unbeknownst to me, Edward had bought a whole other complete set of gifts for Little Man. So while I was under the impression that I was shopping for both of us (as I normally do), he was going to town. End result was small toy shop vomiting in living-room Christmas morning. So my reasonable amount of presents was doubled and then tripled by the time we left Sassy and PopPop’s.

I devoted the remainder of my day today to cleaning out V’s toys. He’s at the age now where he is only interested in cars. Cars and action figures. HotWheels, Toy Story figures, more cars, more things based on Toy Story and some more cars. Oh and some dinosaurs. And some snakes.

Elmo is right out. Plex from Yo Gabba Gabba is in. Little People are out. Batman and the Joker are SO in. As are cars. And cars. Oh, and cars.

Funny, eh? So the house has been purged of baby toys and I formally have a non-baby. I have a son. Not a baby, no no no. A very big boy. Practically a teenager, in fact.

It’s sad and exciting at the same time. I feel sad saying goodbye to his babyness, but this next stage is so exciting and fun. And challenging. And filled with constant fighting. Oh challenges, how I love thee. And man, that little man of mine is one heck of a challenge.

Edward has one more week of Christmas holiday, which means I have one more week of sleeping in until 6:30 on a work day. I think I’ll make the most of 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.

Birthday

So 9 years ago I turned 25.

And 9 years ago I was somewhere else entirely. Literally and figuratively. I was in Victoria, Canada, working 2 part-time jobs and taking 3 4th year level classes at the local university finishing off my degree in English and Art History.

I worked about 30 hours a week at a grocery store as a butcher’s assistant. And every Saturday I worked in a second-hand book-store. I lived with my cousin in a 3rd floor building overlooking downtown Victoria. All hardwood floors, with a gas fireplace. I had a cat. I had no car. I took the bus or rode my bike everywhere. I ran a lot.

I celebrated my birthday in a bar, with a tiara and some rather saucy pictures that one of my friends used on his ‘dirty drinks’ website. A website that has since disappeared. As have those pictures. Ha!

The year I turned 26, I did so in Japan. It probably involved karaoke. So did the year I turned 27 and 28. 29? That was the year M and I were preparing to leave Japan. My summer birthdays in Japan were always sweaty affairs. Japan is one humid and hot place to live. The summer was always full of the smell of wet. And barbeque. And charcoal. And the sounds of karaoke drifting faintly through downtown.

The year I turned 30, I celebrated in Orlando. I’d only been living here for about 6 months. M and I had the smallest apartment you have ever seen in your life. Although comparing it to the one we had in Japan, it was incredibly spacious.

Now this was a birthday that was celebrated with proper pomp and circumstance. M bought me 30 gifts. And we hit up downtown Orlando with sushi and tasty drinks. I have some very vague memories of that night.

2 years ago I celebrated with my newly born son. V was just a month old and to be honest I don’t even remember what we did. I think we might have eaten food. And then I might have slept. Those were the early days, the days I have no memory of. I blocked them out. That’s how you make it possible to have another child.

Last year, M took me out for a gourmet meal. We are slowly working our way through the Disney Resorts, dining-wise.

And tonight?

M was working this evening and so V and I went out for dinner. I managed to eat one piece of pizza at our favorite Italian place before V got bored with the evening. I only had to chase him around the restaurant 3 times. Lovely.

And bedtime was another disaster that I will blog about another day. And ongoing disaster, actually. And the evening ended with the 2 of us on the couch, watching Big Brother, snuggling with Winnie the Pooh and Mickey Mouse. V cuddling up closer and closer.

V falling asleep. Me carrying him up to bed at 9:30 and then heading back downstairs to zone out with Mickey and Winnie for a little while longer before I hit the second floor as well.

9 years was a big journey.

xoxo a.m.

Panties

Do you even want to read more about this? Since it’s all we are living and breathing over here, too bad. You have too. Well, I mean, I am going to write about it and hopefully you will honour my blog with your presence?

Last night was another disaster sleep-wise. It was 3:30 this time that we woke up to “Mummy! Muuuuuuummmy! Daddy! Daddy too, Daddy tooooooo!”

And so Daddy went and got the wee man who had an annoying amount of energy. We got all cosy in bed, all snuggled up and then? There was an announcement.

“WET”.

And wet he was. And very very wet. And why? Well some smart person had put him to bed in training pants that clearly were not designed for the amount of pee that comes out of my child. And also they are designed to let them feel the wet. So they can acknowledge the wet and vocalize it.

I think I didn’t realize the scope of the potty training. It’s not just about the potty. And the pee.

One needs to understand the potty training pants. And I guess there is also the option of not understanding the pants and letting things ‘hang loose’ and be prepared to deal with the consequences. But since it’s early days, to be honest I am not sure if either of us are ready for that. We need to be eased in. As eased in as we can.

So we have a ton of paraphernalia.

We have wipes for the potty. We have a new potty seat (that I injured myself on while using a pair of scissors as a screwdriver last night to make adjustments so it would fit the toilet). ..(ps: I have a Toy Story band-aid on my finger right now).

We have a huge assortment of ‘Big boy pants’.

Ones with Diego. Ones with Woody and Buzz. And then some others with Woody and Buzz.

And some cloth briefs to go over those if need be.

Last nights debacle involved non-night time potty training pants. Plus diaper rash. So in the middle of the early morning, I changed his pants. Dude.

Apparently I am a push-over as V demanded ‘big boy pants’ and I complied. However, he will let Daddy put a diaper on him. Jaime is a push-over when it comes to her son. Thank god we are not famous or someone would for sure kidnap him and demand a huge hostage amount (#pushover).

Anyways. I went on my lunch break and got some ‘night-time strength’ pull-ups.

I was apparently doing things totally out of step. I should have bought them all in one fell swoop. I think I was just overwhelmed. And post-diaper-a-thon, I feel like there needs to be some clues for us clueless parents. Those first steps to training are hard ones. It feels like starting over. Right over. Like suddenly you are on 2 1/2 hour sleep intervals.

And this time? It confuses both of you, as they are old enough to be confused too.

Ok, so tonight? V is wearing a gorgeous pair of night-time pull-ups, or ‘Big boy pants’ as we refer to them (since I have accidentally called them ‘panties’ about a million times. And have gotten a million dirty looks from the Big M everytime I slip up).

And I confess that I had this actual conversation:

“I bought V Big Boy panties!!”

“Jame, um, they are not called that.”

And then we both drew a blank. I don’t think I have ever actually said the word ‘briefs’ in my life.And then M choked out “Briefs, call them briefs”.

I looked at him like he was a crazy person. Oh, wait. He is.

Briefs, not panties. Note to self…

xoxo a.m.

Queen Mother

We left off yesterday as V was handing me a diaper full of a giant poo that he had just created. Such a thoughtful little boy.

And as I drove off to work after passing it on to M, all I could think about was urine, feces and pants full of both.

Oh, and then pleasant things like how V is a big boy now and how I GUESS I (we) need to make the move to the big boy pants. And this was a tough one! How to you know when they are ready for no more diapers and just training pants?

I guess when they hand the diaper to you, that’s a good sign. And so it was. Now our house is full of Toy Story 3 potty paraphernalia. And to be honest? It is all rather exhausting. Especially since we are on uncertain, shakey ground in terms of potty experience.

Let’s face it. All we have had is one big poo in the potty. And then 2 removed diapers. Oh, and then a refusal to be diapered yesterday and a firm vocalization to wear ‘Diego’ (that’s who is on the training pants). Not that he knows who Diego is. Since we never watch that show. Somehow he just knows. It’s like osmosis or something..

But that’s not much to go on. And so I am making it all up (and backing it up with things my Joa and my Shannon have told me). Those girls know where it’s at.

Tonight we were extremely excited about going potty and taking a bath. At least until I took off his diaper and saw the WORST diaper rash EVER.

Oh great.

And so bath? Not so much. I left the experience drenched. It was like I had been on a water ride at one of the parks.

And diaper? No. Training pants? Also no. Regardless, I Desitined that butt down and pulled one up. Red painful-looking bum? Check!!

Today there was no diapers removed and handed to a parent. Nothing was removed at all actually. In fact, it was just a normal awful day with a two year old. He woke up at 2:30 and wouldn’t go back to sleep. And he just wanted Mummy and Daddy’s bed. And then just wanted to make pig noises in our bed. Not sleep at all. That would have been logical.

So he thrashed and we slept lightly. He woke up and so did we. He made pig noises and we groaned. He talked to Chewie and we stuck our fingers in our ears. He said ‘Mummy snuggles  and Mummy snuggled him within an inch of his life. And then?

Mummy said, “Daddy. Wake up. I have to go to work in 3 hours and I need some sleep”.

Daddy, “Alright Vincent, mummy’s kicking us out, lets go sleep in the little bed.”

Vincent, “Little bed ok.”

And then Mummy slept. And then Mummy woke up at 6 am and went running. This was quite important. Oh yeah… and then Mummy was tired all day long because of a fractured night.

But would you like to see what always makes it better? And this always does. Seriously.

Having ones small child throw oneself at you while shouting ‘MUMMY! Mummy Mum. Mummy! Mum. Mummy’. And all of this while surprising him at a restaurant this evening.

I felt like I was Queen of the Universe.

Love you Vincent…

xoxo

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