Tag Archives: two

*insert adjective* day

I wonder if this will sound like I am repeating myself.

Vince is two.





And then? After all that screaming? I pulled my own hair out in the middle of CVS drugstore while wrestling my child. And then? Shortly after, I  dropped him off at daycare and went to work.

Work, honestly, was less out of control than my child. And so it was with relief that I walked into the office yesterday morning.

Let me rephrase. I am in control of my child. Or at least I am pretty sure I am. However, walking through the make-up aisle at CVS with Vince, a child who woke up at 4 am crying and screaming yesterday morning? Not the best idea. How I got out of there buying only  2 items (one of which I had actually come in for) I will never know.

I think he touched every single lipstick in the store.

Note to readers: Don’t buy lipstick at the CVS on Narcoosee.

And that was followed by “Vincent shake-shake” of all Tic-Tac packets at the till. So maybe don’t buy those either.

Anyways, I went to work. Surprisingly things were not as stressful as they were at CVS. And this was also a shocker. There are usually at least 4 emergencies during the day and at least one screamer. And then a handful of other ridiculousness. All of which was handled with aplomb. Because, to be honest, it was nothing compared to a public wrestling match with ones child.

And then a temper tantrum in the parking lot. And then a screaming fit in the car on the way to ‘school’.

Oh, and I went running before all of this happened. And the fun part was that V woke up at 4, crying, and spent an hour sleeping on top of me. Actually on me. Lying on my chest with his head snuggled in the crook of my neck.

I am glad he was sleeping. And so was Edward. Although, neither of us did and ‘apparently’ he woke the second I snuck out of the house to go running. I might as well have just blasted the alarm in his ear. I was, literally, tiptoeing down the stairs… hat in hand, carrying my socks and iphone.

My stealth tactics leave much to be desired. I clearly need to be more ninja-like.

I got a HUGE side-eye from the Mister when I got home at 6 am. And then a HUGE story about how V tantrumed until I came home.

And then I went to work. And despite all of the total chaos, typical of Wednesday, it was like a freakin’ cake walk.

We are only 2 months into 2 years old. Will 3 be any kind of inmprovement? Will it even matter at that point? How will I get through the next 10 months?

Suggestions are always welcome…

xoxo a.m.

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Broccoli (and Stieg Larsson)

Tonight I am taking a break from Stieg Larsson. Well, I am trying to take a break from him. Originally I had purchased ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” as an interesting book to read in Vince’s bedroom while I was waiting for him to fall asleep.

You know, since we have been having non-stop sleep issues over here. The idea was for ‘Edward’ and I to each have a book in his room, one we only read there and nowhere else. A little something to entice us to stay throughout the whole ‘I’m sleeping but not really, oh look, here’s a toy. No, wait, I am really sleeping’ thing that we toy with every night.

I think it stayed in there for a few days before I had a chance to crack it open. V had a rough time getting to sleep, so I was up there for a while. And then after he felt asleep? Well, Edward had to come and get me later that evening.

“He’s been asleep for a while, hasn’t he!!” he jokingly confronted me.

“Um, I’m not sure”, I replied guiltily. And not convincingly either.

And that was it. I’ve been tearing through the series, just sucking it back. Currently the 3rd book is lounging next to me on the couch. Edward is sitting in a separate chair. See the kind of pull this book has?

Alright, no worries, I’ll stop talking about Stieg.

And talk about broccoli instead.

Who knew that if a person happens to have broccoli on their plate at a restaurant, that this immediately becomes a desired item?

Also, it is delicious. Or at least V thought it was. SHOCKER.

I want to say I have always loved it, but I have a vivid memory of stuffing into the cracks under the family dining table. Mum never noticed and I think that was probably because we had a dog that would eat.

I would also like to say that I have always loved veggies, even as a small child, but I am pretty sure my memories and my mothers might conflict a little.

But damn. The veg is a hard thing. Actually, right now, all food appears to be. Not hard exactly, more of a total bitch. Or bastard. Or shithead.

As in, he screams at it and throws it on the floor. And then I cook a second dinner and he eats most of it. And sometimes by ‘cook’, I also mean ‘open a container of yogurt’.

Don’t judge, it’s a survival thing. . And I am happy that he is eating something. This eating thing and this sleeping thing is just killing us.

We make V the nicest of dinners. Tasty little sandwiches, yummy little biteables, raspberry milk (which is kid smoothies plus milk… this is how we get him to drink milk), corn quesadillas, oh we make him this little gourmet things all the time. Are we being too gourmet? I don’t want to get stuck in a chicken nugget mac and cheese rut.

Both of us refuse to overly cater to him, food-wise. If we did he would be eating waffles, syrup, chocolate milk and Nemo fruit snacks.

But we also don’t want to push food on him if he doesn’t want to eat. Let me assure you , this child of mine is not starving. His hugeness will attest to that. But, you know, he’s two.

And ‘two’ means “I hate everything” and also “when I get angry I bite” and then also “more Mickey Mouse! MORE! MOREEEEEE!”.

So just another post in the ongoing struggle of feeding and raising a two year old.

Any suggestions food-wise as to how to get a 2 year old to eat some veg? Apart for this out of left field broccoli interest…

xoxo a.m.


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The celebration of two

Vince’s birthday was yesterday. An event heralded with much excitement by me. And M. I might have been more excited than anyone though. It might as well have been a coronation or the swearing-in of a new president.

There was a wee party at his school and I organized treats and cake. I left work early, got him a cute balloon and headed to school to surprise him. And it was quite a surprise. He was so surprised, actually, that he got a little upset. I think he thought we were going to leave and leave him there. So he shyly hid his head during “Happy Birthday” and refused to eat any cupcake.

Finally, after much reassurance, he was convinced to nibble on some cupcake. Really, more licking the icing than anything. It was the nicest party, his teachers even bought him a gift. M and I split up, planning to meet at Publix to pick up some necessities.

And post-parking, as V and I were walking to the store, the vomiting commenced. Remarkably it was the same colour as the icing he ate earlier (a little detail I know you were just begging for). And it just didn’t stop. And sadly, the whole thing made me laugh. Because really, what on earth do you do in that sort of situation?




Or maybe laugh and cry?

Puke everywhere. Up my pants (splash back… nice). Down my shirt. All over him and in a puddle at my feet. Next to that car parked in the handicapped spot.

I just have to hand it to my Lake Nona Mammas. Two approached me in the throes of the hurl and offered both help and baby wipes. Thank you sisters. I wish I knew who you were, as I would probably make you my best friends. Those really are the kind of friends I want to have. The type that will go up to random woman with vomiting child and offer assistance.

Thank you ladies. Thank you.

30 minutes later, V was appearing fine. I mean, he was really fine. Super fine. Super fly! Fly!

Um, so then why did we have a repeat puke-a-thon 2 hours later? Lord only knows. But it seemed appropriate since it follows us everywhere. Usually in public.

We thought he was fine, but as we ordered it became apparent that he wasnt feeling well at all. There was the clinging. The hugging. The silence. The no smiling. The lethargy. And then finally? The vomit.

And that was followed by the total strip down in the ladies bathroom, a clothes rinse, a stroller rinse and the a surprise reappearance by the birthday boy himself naked, clad only in a diaper and in a damp stroller.

Daddy took him home. Mummy and Tita followed with M’s dinner. M broke his toe. We ate cake without Little Man. The presents languished on the table. We slept.

I woke up at 1:30 this morning to the sounds of “Mumma downstairs? Bottle? Milk? Waffles?” and so there we were. V was fine. He ate and then we went up to bed. My bed. Not his. And the wiggle-worm body wiggled all night long. I now understand that he takes after his Daddy. Restless. Geez.

And so that? That was the unofficial celebration of Two.

The official Celebration will take place tomorrow. Unofficially it is called ‘birthday do-over’. There will be Nemo. There will be family. There will be no stress like last year. There will be swimming and relaxing and sangria. Oh, and some cake and a few balloons.

There will be no puking? I happily accept your wishes winging my way…

xoxo a.m.

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