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.

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)

 

 

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.

Monday night poop

The last 2 weeks or so seem to be the beginning of a vocabulary explosion in the Little Man. And sentence structure. And chattering. Non-stop.

Vince’s latest things to say?

“Mummy, that’s funny!”

“Chewie, don’t bite Mummy’s pants. That’s bad.”

“Chewie is too noisy. Be quiet!”

And this evening?

“Mummy? Vincent poo-poo bath-tub! Ewww! Stinky poo!”

I thought it was all talk. But, as it turns out, it was action too. “Daddy!!”, I hollered, “I need you!!”

“What?!” Edward shouted in reply.

“Poop in the tub!! I need help!”

And so while Edward got V cleaned up, pajamaed and read him a few stories, I fished poo out of the tub with a paper towel. This is not a fun game. The motion of the paper towel under water causes ripples that make the poo drift away from your paper-wrapped hand.

And if, say, you had a tub filled with bubbles, it turns into ‘hide and seek with poo’. Not ‘Hide and Seek with Pooh’ as that would actually be fun. Just me, on my knees beside the tub carefully scooping turds out and depositing them into the toilet.

Funnily enough, V was not in the slightest bit upset that this happened. Like the last few times it did. He was just very matter of fact. And then stood there, very patiently, while I fished him out of the tub and rinsed him off. And then promptly told Daddy all about it when he came upstairs.

There might have been a hint of pride in his retelling of the story.

Lord. Help. Us.

What a perfect ending to a lovely day…

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.

Paper towel

This weekend was spent exhausting my child. Our child. I exhausted our child. Edward worked. All weekend.

And when he wasn’t working? He was working.

Edward’s weekend job switched from Friday/Saturdays to Saturday/Sundays. And this was the week where it overlapped. So E worked all weekend. And when he wasn’t physically working at the restaurant, he was at home lesson-planning for the coming week.

As a result, I didn’t see him at all. I think, in total, it might have been 2 hours over a period of 3 days. Brutal!

Which means that it was one of my ‘single parent’ weekends. I was sans partner.

Bummer.

For Vince? Bliss.

He played with PlayDough (Yes. I broke down and bought some). There was glitter glue. Colouring. Sidewalk chalk. Dr Philips water park with Sydney. Lunch at WholeFoods with Shannon and Syd. Tita and Errol. And hugging of both of them. Nemo. Figment. Epcot. Disney. Woody and Bullseye. Bubble-baths.

Apparently I should just run a weekend play camp for kids, we did so many things.

There were also no naps. And this allowed for bedtimes of 6 pm. Aren’t I sneaky? And he literally fell asleep 3 minutes into bedtime. He was soooooo tired.

But with each adventure we had this weekend, he pronounced it ‘fun’. And “Mummy, Vincent fun”.

Ok honey! Even though you screamed and clung to me all through DeDe’s goodbye party. And then, as we walked out of the restaurant, you proclaimed “Party fun”. Repeatedly.

And with every successive adventure this weekend, when fun was waning, you stepped up and told me how much you liked it. How ‘fun’ it was. Regardless of it’s actual ‘fun’ quota.

Darling Sweet Pea, you confuse me. I am pretty sure it’s because you are two. And if that’s true (which it is), then I now understand your initial love interest with play-dough and subsequent hatred of it.

And your initial love of sidewalk chalk and, again, subsequent hatred of it.

And your love of “Doggie Mooooovie” (Bolt) and then hatred. This could be repeated a million times with ‘Cars’, ‘Wall-E’, ‘Nemo’ and all the ‘Toy Story’ movies.

Darn toddlers. So troublesome and so worth all the trouble.

Even when, say, you are in the middle of removing your contact lenses and they grab a roll of paper towels that you just happened to leave for one moment in your bedroom. And then they run and unravel that roll down the hallway while you are in the middle of removing your right contact lense.

And then? Once those lenses are stored? You run away from me, tearing small pieces of paper towel apart in your path.

Oh god. How I nearly lost my sanity.

Thank god it was just before bedtime or I might have damn near lost my mind….

xoxo a.m.

Other things that happened this week…

I slept poorly.

Edward slept poorly. But he is a vampire, so no-one should be surprised by that at all.

V also slept poorly. And we slept with V periodically and poorly as well.

Chewie slept well. Bastard.

I bought pants on sale at Target. Not for me, for V. The wee man isn’t a ‘wee’ man anymore.

3T is what we are hitting up over here. Isn’t that scary? It is for me. Since I still think he is 9 months old and teeny tiny. Isn’t that scary? It scared me. Just picking up the pants… geez. But I refuse to spend money on things that won’t fit him in a few months. It’s against my nature as a Canadian.

I fed my child broccoli and he liked it.

We bought a painting for our living-room. After visiting a friend’s house (Roys, you know who you are) Edward and I realized that hanging things on the wall was not a bad thing. And possibly since we have been living here for almost a year, finding things to put on the wall would be a good idea.

All we have to do now is hang it.

My Granny in Canada entered a nursing home. *sigh*

It’s genetic (dementia) and all of us family ladies joke about how it’s going to be us one day. And it’s true. But it still makes me sad. Happily she is in an amazing new home and really settling in well. Nothing like those scary ‘facilities’ down South. And after talking with one on the phone today, I couldn’t wait to call my Mum after work and relate some of the frustrating details of their extremely poor nursing staff.

Yikes! Every-time I have to communicate with one, I shudder to think of other families ‘special people’ in places like that.

Granny is adjusting well. Please send blessings and gentle thoughts in the general West Coast direction.

In other news, V has learned how to lie. Poorly.

Clearly he gets this from me as I can only lie to people over the phone. At work. Edward, on the other hand, can lie through his teeth.

The most recent lie is also the funniest.

V trots up to Daddy and proclaims: “No Poopoos!” and then trots away, while stink-lines emanate from the general area of his pants slash buttocks area.

Worst. Lie. Ever.

Followed by the other worst lie ever.

That involves V breaking something at Pop-Pop’s house, turning and pointing at one of the dogs and shouting either “Bai-ya” (Bailey) or “Soccer!” (Scarlet) and literally finger-pointing the blame in their direction.

Ha! It is rather funny. Such a naughty boy. Oh, I have so many stories to share regarding smacked bottoms and attempted time-outs, but I shall save those for a later date.

Tomorrow is ‘National Night-Out’ and The whole family is attending our local YMCA’s celebration.

I am so excited. I literally haven’t been able to wait ’til we could attend things like this and have V participate. With us.

We will be taking the camera, and since august is my “I will blog more often’ month, you shall all share in the pleasure of V running like a crazy animal. Maybe we’ll catch a few streaky shots of him?

Anyways, please forgive my poor posting this last month.

xoxo to my peeps a.m.

Conversations with my Husband

Gosh, do I ever have the silliest conversations with M. So ridiculous that I might need to make it a weekly topic.

M: “Just got home from work and V is tearing the house apart. He keeps bringing me things I haven’t seen before. Most of them are your shoes.”

J: “Ha! Wait. What? Where is he getting these shoes from? I don’t have that many shoes.”

M: “Sure you don’t. Ahem. Anyways, he just came out carrying a pink stocking…”

J: “….??? What? That must be yours.”

M: “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

J: “Well, I know those aren’t my stockings as I don’t have any pink ones, so they must be yours…hahaha… you own pink stockings!”

M: “Your Christmas stocking? You know, the one that’s pink fake fur? That’s what I mean by ‘stocking’.”

J: “Oh. I totally didn’t visualize a Christmas stocking, I was thinking about stocking stockings. Like panty-hose. You know?”

M: “….Way to date your self. Hahahahahahahaha… what are you, 90? No-one calls them stockings anymore!”

J: “What? Ha! TONS of people call them that.”

M: “Sure Mildred.”

J: “Hahahaha… don’t call me that!”

M: “Whatever you say, Gertrude.”

J: “I liked Mildred better.”

And it went on from there. Am I really the only one that calls them stockings? Am I from 1912? Do I have too many shoes?

Tune in next week for more ridiculousness…

xoxo a.m.

Mermaids

V, Shell and boogs

Oh gosh, how I love surprises. And M knows that painfully obvious secret about me. And so? We took a road trip, with a secret destination…

We hit up the Tampa Aquarium. Something that I had been interested in going to since V discovered fish. I thought he’d get a kick out of it. Especially since all fish are ‘Nemo’.

Let me just say, it was a total disappointment. Total tourist central, which I guess isn’t surprising since it is located right next to the Cruise Ship terminal. So that was one huge point against. And then? Well, then it was just plain ol’ bad.

Bad taste, bad exhibits, sad gators and well, just bad. BAD.

It was like a sad zoo for fish. Which I guess is exactly what an aquarium is. God. Awful. And then they tacked a ‘water park’ on the end of it. Ugh.

And then the whole purpose of our trip because clear. The Weeki Watchee Mermaids were there for the weekend.

Say whaaa?!

Oh thats right!! You heard me! My Florida dream come true. For years I have wanted to see them perform, and now I didn’t have to pay a ridiculous amount of money and drive all over Florida to see them.

Hurray!!

And then Boo!! It was a special showing for 15 minutes only and the exhibit was overly full. Crap. V didn’t care, there were things to crawl over and in and stuff to point and touch. He didn’t care about no stinking mermaids.

We wandered and laughed all over the exhibit. It was just so darn bad. And then just before we were about to leave, I found one last corner unexplored. And guess what? In that unexplored area was the tank where the mermaids were performing.

Thank you Gods!!! Thank you!! One more thing off the list of tacky stuff to do in Florida.

And they were so gorgeously tacky, kind of slutty and all sorts of bad. Mummy Like.

But ladies, I love you. Thank you for making my afternoon. V liked ‘Nemo’. M liked the part of the exhibit that had fake smoke.

Those mermaids saved it. For me anyways. Not sure about anyone else.

Although judging from the person behind me while V and I were looking at turtles. “I’m gonna get a picture of this damn turtle if it’s the last thing I do. We spent $80 damn dollars on admission and if I want damn picture of a turtle, I’ll get one! And then we’ll leave!”

I don’t think the mermaids saved it for her…

xoxo a.m.

p.s.: they totally did it for me… 😉

Surprise!

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.