Sparkle!

Please bless this home with sparkles and multi-colour shoes.

Things we do to our children.

For example, the things I do to mine.

Friday was a short day for me. Christmas party at work, a luncheon with ‘games’ and in my excitement at leaving work early I planned just a few extra things. Things that, in retrospect, should have just been ‘fit in’ on their own day. I was a wee bit determined though and we all know what that’s like.

Xmas photos at the mall (in the tropical thunder-storm that hit the area?! Sure! No problem!). Late night trip to the grocery store (late being 7 pm). Dinner at 7:30. Bed at 8 pm. This is all very unusual for all members in my household, especially the dog. I think he relies on routine and gets confused when things don’t go according to his plans.

I stayed up way later than everyone else.

And thought about things.

About the lady I met in the photo studio last night who exchanged Iphone apps with me. Thanks for ‘Hatch’! Her son was roughly the same age as V and I couldn’t help but notice that she was loosing her hair. She was much older than I am/was/will be.

Whatever that means.

Anyways…

About the photographer that made the most interesting noises I have ever heard in order to gain and keep Little Man’s attention. Good job! I didn’t even know those noises existed! And how do you learn them? And oh, how I don’t want to ever be a photog working at a place like that.

About how crappy driving in the rain is here. It might be the equivalent to driving in the snow on Vancouver Island. Despite the fact that it rains here a lot, no-one still knows how to drive in it. Hence my Island reference. Re: snow.

About how letting Little Man stay up until 8 pm equals me getting to sleep in until 9 am. Not such a bad thing.

Anyways, we got home late. The only thing he wanted to eat was banana and milk. Who am I to argue with him? We were waaaaaay beyond that point. We were at the point of  ‘nobody matters at all’,  least of all Mummy. At least he ate.

And Sunday was the same… but slightly more of ‘Things we do to our children’ and ‘What the hell were we thinking!’.

Both of these topics seem to come up rather often.

We went to Downtown Disney. For those not in Florida, it is a cute area, on Disney property but not attached to any of the parks. Movie theatres, shops, Lego stores, McDonald’s (apparently an essential), it’s all that kind of thing.

It was a no-nap day. Just a light snooze in the car, followed by french fries and chocolate milk (which is the hugest treat ever). V, in his sweater, had the run of the place. And then M had the brilliant idea to see if he liked cotton candy.

Well, he does. And sugar gives him energy despite the lack of nap.

We got back to Hunters Creek around 4 pm. And then home, after a stop at the grocery store around 5 pm. And what did we buy at the store?

A roast. Because on a Sunday night, around 6 pm, this is clearly the perfect thing to slide in the oven. At the time we were discussing it (3:30 pm) it was! And sounded so delicious!

When we got home (5 pm), and put it in the oven (6 pm) it seemed like the beef was a dream. And a stupid dream at that. We had sushi for dinner while the roast cooked.

And we had Roast for dinner tonight. Way to plan!

Things I thought about today…

About how demanding people are. Is it an American thing? Not sure, but the kind of screaming that I face on the telephone is the equivalent to a toddler tantrum. People pout and fight when they don’t get their way. To be honest, it’s rather annoying. I would rather V have a temper tantrum in the middle of a busy street than talk to some guy who can’t understand why his post-nasal drip isn’t cause for National Concern (sometimes you can just hear the capitals).

Or why we can’t see you ‘right now’. Or why you can’t  ‘just come in and wait….. it will only take “5 minutes”‘. Pretty much this is every conversation that I will be having until years end.

About how I missed my BF Shanaenae* today at the office. Naenae, you know I need to see you every day.

It’s moving into that time of the year. Yes, that’s right. It’s Nature’s Menstrual cycle. Everyone gets bitchy. And the closer it gets to Xmas and New Years, the worse it gets for all of us making appointments and doing things of other Nation Concern to random people. Bastards.

How I felt sad that V ran into daycare this morning without a care in the world. I literally was like “Oh. Ok. Um….. Um. I guess I’ll go now…” Meanwhile V is happily playing without a care in the world with another little boy. My feelings were just a little bit hurt. Just a little. *sigh* Ok, a lot.

But miraculously, I felt waaaay better this afternoon when I went and picked him up and he immediately dropped everything he was doing and ran to me. And then clung to my legs.

THAT’S what I want to see!!!! Pure dependency!

All it does is cement that my little man is growing up. And that, probably, I need to have another baby.

Lord, please bless this home with a feminine child.

Mumma needs to buy sparkly shoes for someone…

*Girl, I am only using your Ghetto name for privacy reasons….

Big time

We moved across town.

It was a typical move. The movers were late… although when I called them to ask when they were arriving, apparently it was in ‘the window’, which meant that, in fact, they were not late. Rather, they were on time. That’s OK. I had only been awake since 5 am, so anyone would have been late compared to me.

The moving part went smoothly.

The cable guy was 3 1/2 hours late. He arrived (after numerous phone calls on my part as to his arrival time) just after we sat down for Chinese food around 8 pm. His ‘window’ was 2pm to 4pm. Bastard.

He ruined these satisfying thoughts of BrightHouse being bastards by being the nicest man ever. And funniest. And most efficient. And then made random slightly off-colour jokes about himself being a nice bit of ‘chocolate’ that our dog wanted to nibble on…. I know, right? I was thinking ‘What the hell” too…. But it made me laugh.

And amidst all of this chaos, V decided that it was the perfect time to pick walking as a full-time career choice.

Way to make a great decision! His timing clearly comes from me.

So now Little Man is completely mobile.

Completely.

And man, is it the funniest thing ever. He walks all around with his hands up in the air like he is about to start ‘the wave’ or something. Most of this happens with a very serious face as well.

Very serious. Mostly sans shoes, mostly with Chewie following closely behind (dog-toy firmly clamped in mouth to prevent V from grabbing). I think he noticed that he was taller while walking. Now, he likes to walk over to tables and reach for what is on top, drag it off and then walk all over it. He sure can show that mail-keys-handbag-etc who’s boss!

This evening V and I took the dog for a walk.

We both put on our shoes. Some with a little more help than others.

Off we went, poop-bag in hand(s).

We went down the front steps, then up them, down, up, down, up, down, up and finally down. Then V was picked up and forcibly removed from the vicinity of the stairs.

We walked together (v in his little Transformer shoes, me in my flip-flops) down to the corner and across the street. And then about half-way down that street. This journey took about 20 minutes. I laughed a lot.

On the way back we stopped more times then we did on the way there. Stopped to check out the cement on the road. Stopped to see the plants on everyone’s front porch. Stopped to hit some plants with our hands. Stopped to hit some flowers with our hands. Giggled while hitting them. Hit them with such enthusiasm and giggled so much that people turned and looked at us. I affected an air of nonchalance. This is the best ‘air’ ever to effect when one is walking around with a child and talking out loud.

Usually I throw my ‘nonchalance’ cloak on every time I step out in public with V. It is quite an effective coverage…

Anyways, we went 1 block (and back). We investigated a lot. We waved our hands up in the air. A few little yellow petals bit the dust with our overenthusiastic over-handling. Shrieks of happiness echoed up and down our new street.

Walking, apparently, has hit the big time over here.

Shoeless

This morning as I struggled to put shoes on V’s little chubby feet, I realized that we had a problem….

The problem was that the shoes didn’t really fit. But that’s ok, I crammed them on anyways and somehow managed to do the Velcro strap up. I made them fit because I had bought them about 2 weeks ago and at that time they were too big. I can hardly believe that his feet grew that much in such a short period of time.

When M and I lived in Japan, M had problems finding shoes that fit him. Men’s feet are just not that big over there. And, well, his feet are BIG. The one place that he found to buy sneakers had the larger shoes arranged in a section entitled “Big Feet!”, with a sign exclaiming that and a huge arrow pointing down from the ceiling at the shoe selection (with a giant foot hanging over the area too). So pretty much the most embarrassing place ever to buy shoes. He didn’t go that often.

I think it’s those Italian genes, genes which V has clearly inherited as it basically looks like I cloned M into a baby. Really, they look so much alike. So it makes sense that the feet would be part of the whole package.

It is a little annoying to buy shoes and have them not fit 2 days later (slight exaggeration).

We had a few pairs of Robeez (which I love), but the last time he wore them (last weekend at Epcot) they left the most awful redmarks on his little feet which made me feel like the worst Mummy in the whole world. So those are going into storage. Bummer. They fit so well and once they warmed up to his body temperature they clunge nicely to his feet and were so flexible.

Cutest shoes ever though. If you haven’t checked out their website, click here

So that’s the gist of it. My son has huge feet. I am resigned about it. And he has no shoes.

Ok, well, he could have shoes if I wanted to spend lot’s o’money, but since I am cheap, right now he has no shoes that fit. He’s my ghetto baby… no shoes, and soon…. no shirt and pants and only a diaper. And by then I am sure I will also be shoeless, out of a job, on medicaid and welfare and pregnant again. And all because my son has big feet.

For Ghetto baby names (and an indepth discussion), click here

For a longer list of ghetto names, click here

For the Ghetto, click here