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.

Nasal sprays and 3 year olds or My morning plans…

I got a little bit of extra Vince time today. Now while the reason wasn’t the best, the time was pretty darn great.

We hit up the allergist today and had a combo routine follow-up along with some skin testing for pollens and molds.  Vince has had chronic sinus issues ever since he was a wee guy. And in those early days, he was allergic to wheat and peanuts too. He is always somewhere in the ‘cycle of sick’. Good times. Lots of tissue.

Well, the skin testing didn’t really reveal anything. And he is WAY too young for intradermals. It seems as though his symptoms wax and wane with the pollen season and so we are throwing in a nasal spray to see how that works.

I am quite curious as to how a three year old and nasal spray are going to work together. Hopefully, the two will skip hand-in-hand merrily down the street instead going totally ‘fight-club’ on each others asses. Or bumbums.

I will find out tomorrow morning when we use it for the first time! Oh how fun!

I’ve got all sorts of fun things in the works for Vince and I in the upcoming weeks. Edward is working too much and we do our best to get out of his hair to give him some space to he can get stuff done.

Upcoming adventures are going to include Leu Gardens and OMA (Orlando Museum of Art). I have my eyes on a few other art museums in the vicinity as well.

For my locals, did you know that OMA has a preschool art program with monthly, interactive, awesome events to sign up for.

It desperately makes me wish I could call out sick so Vince and I could hit it up, but alas… I so very much want to attend next months ‘Fall Colours of Vincent Van Gogh’.

Gah. Jealous.

So if you have Fridays off, or don’t work and want something to do with the wee ones, please go. For my sake.

Check out OMA here. We will be heading there soon, it’s never too early to get your children involved in the Arts…

xoxo a.m.

How I was not attacked by a zombie (or my trip to the dermatologist part deux)

After an eventful weekend of school supply shopping and lying on the couch, Monday arrived with a bit of a whimper on my part.

I unwisely stayed up to watch True Blood last night and upon hitting the hay, had one of those really awful nights of sleep. The kind where you are, indeed, asleep but at the same time you are awake. It’s that really uneasy sleep where you are right on edge, where you wake up feeling kind of dirty as if you need to immediately take a shower to clean the sleep off of you.

Now whether this was the product of a botched nap earlier in the day, that greasy pizza I had for dinner (why? why!!!) or the impending trip to the dermatologist on Monday afternoon, I will never know.

Regardless, I slept like shit and when I woke up it was Monday.

Ugh.

AND I had to go to the dermatologist. Yuck.

Todays big trip was for stitch removal of the first site and then removal of the second site, which just so happens to be a few inches below my collar bone.

The dermatologist I go to in Orlando is lovely and also runs a spa in conjunction with her dermatology practice. As a result, I was comfortably reclined on a chair, pillow tucked under my head while classical music softly piped in the background.

I was almost relaxed. And then they stuck some needles in me. And then they cut part of me out. Irregardless of the fact that I felt nothing, I sure smelled it. Because the area had to be cauterised post-removal and pre-stitches.

And a flashback ensued….

Tell me, oh children of the seventies, do you remember those Elementary school assemblies where we all sat so politely while we were lectured about not touching live wires? And then to really cement the lesson, an adult would then proceed to electrocute a hot dog? The smell that wafted through the gym when you were 6 is what I smelled like this afternoon…

I almost felt like the live wire act was going to be followed a lecture on not touching unexploded bombs. Remember? The 80’s were some freaky shit.

Anyways, to my great disappointment the bandage I received was not as large as the one from the weeks previous. Unfortunately I am unable to pretend that I was bitten by a shark or attacked by zombies.

How disappointing…

Humor me??

xoxo a.m.

Wallet and watch

I am sure this is EXACTLY what V's baptism will look like... Right?

Thursday night this past week was a big, exciting evening for us. Not only was it almost the end of a rather exhausting week, but Edward and I attended baptism class at a local church.

By local church, what I really mean is splendid cathedral in the heart of downtown Orlando. We went to St James Cathedral, thinking (correctly as it turned out) that this would be the best place in the city to take a class like this.

Let me just say that I haven’t been to church in years. And the last time I did might have been a Christmas mass with my Mum and Granny. Edward hasn’t been in years either. But Vince attends a Christian based daycare and we feel it’s an important thing to do. Also, I am not Catholic. Edward is. As is his whole family.

So, this whole Catholic baptism? Well I was a little… nervous. I guess that is the best way to describe it. The Cathedral was enormous. We had no idea what we were doing. We parked somewhere that we were not sure if we should be parking. It was on church grounds, it looked like you could park there. Well, it didn’t specifically say ‘don’t park here’. So we parked. Hoping maybe that that homeless guy would guard our car…

We wandered in through the main entrance. There was nobody there. Peering in through the glass that separated us from the main church, someone gestured at us wildly. After a lot of “Who me? Or him? Us? You mean us?” gesturing, we walked down the aisle towards the front of the church and encountered a rather cheerful person, who asked us if we were here for the ‘adoration’.

“No, we are looking for the baptism class…”

“OH!! OK!! Just go…..” and she gave us very explicit directions which I believe we both promptly forgot after following just one part.

Because, as we followed her pointing finger through a door and into a courtyard, we encountered about 150 people. They looked tremendously cheerful too. One of them asked us if we were here for the ‘adoration’ too.

“Um, no. The baptism class.”

We were directed to a little old lady in a very secure room on the other side of the courtyard. She buzzed us through to a secure area and instructed us to take the elevator to the basement.

The basement was pitch black.

For about 10 seconds I serious thought I was in a horror movie. And then? I turned my head to the right and saw a room with some people and then thought “Great. We’re late.”

But, great! We weren’t!

In fact, it all went smoothly and the Deacon promised we would be done an hour earlier than the class was scheduled for. That was Deacon David. The nicest person ever. I honestly wanted him to be my neighbour/best friend/family member. He was one heck of a guy.

And so we learned. And prayed. And talked awkwardly about ourselves. And smelled Holy oils. And I learned a very interesting thing.

Even though Edward hasn’t been to church in five million years, he can still spot on cross himself at the beginning of a prayer just like he never stopped attending. I wish he’d warned me. I just felt confused while that was going on… and then kind of embarrassed.

And as we were leaving he yelled at me for stepping on the grass. And then apologized, stating it was just reflex. Made me laugh.

Made me love him more. Even though he is the hugest pain in my ass. I just might love him a bit more now….

xoxoxo a.m. (spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch)

Knitting regroup

So Saturday I went back to Michael’s and returned all of that yarn that I so lovingly described a few nights ago.

In my mind, as I plan my knitting creation, it gets more and more elaborate. I am trying so hard to remain realistic. I am a beginning knitter. I don’t ever use a gauge. I never knit a sample and never really monitor my tension. There, I confess.

I do, however, have high expectations. And grandiose ideas. And a lot of confidence. So when I found out that you could not felt acrylic yarn, I was devastated. All of that gorgeous yarn I bought? Yup. You guessed it. (acrylic, for those who didn’t)

And I hadn’t even planned on felting in the beginning. But a combo of a memory of one of my coworkers mentioning she was going to try making a felted purse, plus another coworker asking me about my knitting plans “Are you going to felt those squares?”, plus my mother telling my that my Auntie Nan made a lovely felted blanket for her first grandson (little felted squares crocheted together)… well…

So when I was asked “Are you going to felt the squares?”. Well, of course the answer was yes.

“Yes, that is exactly what I’ve been planning on doing”. Said with confidence. Even though I have never felted a thing in my life, except for those few times when I threw those wool sweaters in the dryer.

So Vince and I returned all that yarn and then I carefully went through the meager selection that Michaels had to offer, looking for wool, or at least a wool blend (with at least 50% wool). Ugh. Not much to offer there. But I was determined to bring home something. After all, it is cold in Florida now, being that its ‘Fall’ and all. I need something to keep my hands occupied while I huddle near the heater, desperately trying to stay warm.

Vince quietly destroyed a small display. I finally made a decision. Not a hundred percent happy with it, but it will do. It is a wool blend, a lovely variegated pattern of raspberry, fuchsia, purple, blueberry, marigold and various other shades of pink and purple. Rather pretty.

The majority of 100% wool the store carries were ‘wool’ colours. Browns, sheepy sorts of gray and cream. As much as I love those natural fibers, I am a bright colour type of girl. And I have this vision too, you see.

A lovely, vibrant afghan draping over the side of my red velvety couch. Contrasting nicely with my dark wood floors and creamy walls. A cocktail of colour in the corner of the living room. And something that I can look at with pride.

I;ve made 2 squares so far. and partially felted one. It is going to work. And it is going to look fabulous.

But I am going to need more yarn. I need some more colour. I need more woolies. And honestly, I am not even sure if that is something one can find in Orlando. All yarn shops either look like this well-known one in my hometown of Victoria, BC (Beehive) or as one of those yarn shop stories that everyone seems to be writing. In fact, it was reading one of those books that made me want to pick-up knitting needles again.

If anyone local knows a good place, please let me know.

Wish me luck with my little project. I am going to attempt to felt this weekend. Possibly I will post pictures. Possibly. 🙂

xoxo a.m.

Badassicalness

A new feature I am thinking about adding to my blog as either a weekly or bi-monthly event. By event, I really mean ‘post’.

I am looking to feature interesting people and/or interesting blogs/websites. If this works the way I hope it will, I eventually want to add a give-away element to it too.

But for now, it will just be a feature….

Tonight’s Sunday Night Featurette will be….

~Celine B.~

Queen of cakes and sarcasm.

And a family member, so you know this is going to be flattering….. (she’s so purdy)

Brief history:

Celine hails from the West Coast of Canada. Or Wet Coast. Or however you like to call it. She migrated South, as all people tend to do, a few years ago and settled on the West Coast of Florida for a few years. She joined Publix and immediately began her meteoric rise. Quickly moving her way from associate (clerk) to Assistant Bakery Manager, mostly by sheer skill. And charm. She quickly moved inland to the Orlando area, where she is currently residing and plotting her take-over of all things bakery…

That Canadian work ethic is no match at all for… well…. anything. For real.

Especially considering the pure lack of ethic that appears to be so common these days…..

Skills:

That girl can bake a mean cake/pie/muffin/cupcake

That woman can tease a mean rock-a-billy poof (pending pictures).

That sister from another mister can decorate like you wouldn’t believe. And even if you do believe, if you saw it you still wouldn’t believe it could be that amazing.

She is amazingly creative, something which she has always had a flare for…. She shows it so clearly in her creations, especially the way her fingers delicately tease that fondant into the most interesting shapes.

Illustrated here:

For her cake-skillz in the Orlando area… please email me @ atlanticmama@gmail.com