Tag Archives: V

Socks

My living room times a million

Finger up nose.

Pants around ankles.

Toothbrush in eyeball.

Socks on floor.

I think this sums up the week nicely.

1) Finger constantly up nose. Not my finger. And not my nose. All day. Every day.

2) V is currently 17 months. I refuse to buy him any pants small than 2t or 24 months. There is just no point. So last weekend I bought him some jeans, Levi carpenter pants (adorable). They only stay on if he is wearing shoes. Shoes seem to block those pants quick descent to the floor. I have to roll the cuffs up and that helps prop the jeans up on top of his sneakers. Nice.

3) In my efforts to promote good hygiene to my toddler, I’ve been gently promoting the toothbrush. Mostly as something just to hold and put in the mouth. Some brushing movements are made and I figure it’s a start.

Tonight, in his thorough excitement about his new toothbrush, he punched me in the eye with it. It hurt. I hope there is no bruising… Holy mother does than boy have an arm on him!

4) I might lose my mind about these damn socks. Can someone (besides me) pick them up?! All. Over. My. House.

Before V, there were M socks everywhere. Drove me nuts. Post-double shift socks were scattered everywhere. The dog finds them delicious. Still does. And V has inherited this from his father. Socks come off the instant they are put on. In the car. In the house. In the yard. On the sidewalk. Mid-poop. Mid-poop clean-up.

Poop-socks? Good times.

Click here to learn some valuable tips about socks… and how to wear them. Properly.

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Nebulizers suck

neb-blog

Oh please... who's child sits like this for treatment! Come on!

Can I just say I am frustrated?

Damn. It.

Several months ago when V was sick, it turned out that he was mildly asthmatic. So darling Dr E recommended a nebulizer and to start ‘treatments’ when he had attacks.

Attacks? Almost never, unless he has a cold, which is where he is right now.

So last night he woke up crying and coughing and I rushed upstairs to comfort him. He was coughing and then crying. Nose running all over the place, cough and crying in spurts. And just with the most miserable look on his face while this was all going on.

So out came the nebulizer as he sounded pretty wheezy. And that’s where my evening got awful.

Wail, scream, wail, scream, shriek shriek shriek. I think that is baby talk for “Mummy, I hate this thing, the way it sounds, looks and smells…. basically everything about it. I hate it.”

Yup. He hates it. I think it made him cry more.

Eventually I got him calmed down and off to bed.

He slept all night. Woke up early despite the late night, coughed on and off all day. Ate BBQ with Mummy, Pop-Pop and Gramma.

Went to bed like an angel and woke up about and hour later with exactly the same symptoms as last night.

And so 30 minutes ago we went through the same routine. Except I thought I was being clever by being prepared.

I got a juice bottle. I prepared a dish of snackies. I brought the nebulizer downstairs. I put on Sesame Street.

I. Was. Ready. And I felt awesome about it…

V did not. Total repeat from last night. Except worse and with a snottier nose. And more crying. And just worse all around.

The neb and him are not a fantastic team.

8 months ago there was no problem with it. He would happily eat snackies while the nebulizer was pumping away in front of his face.

Now, not so much.

Any tips on making it tolerable?

(besides lollipops and doing the treatment while he sleeps– who are we kidding, neither of those work)

But any tips are greatly appreciated…

xoxo a.m.

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Fever times 2

sick-blog

16 months in and my first experience with a really, really sick little boy started yesterday…

All in all, not too shabby. All we’ve had to deal with prior has been food allergies, allergic reactions, mild asthma and lots of poop. Ok, looking at that list, let me revise that  ‘all we’ve had to deal with’ comment, that kind of made it sound like parenthood has been a cake-walk over here.

Really what I mean is that this is my first experience with scary high temperatures, scary lethargy and projectile vomit (Exorcist-style).

V woke up yesterday a wee bit warm. Babies are warm in the morning, so I didn’t think too much of it. He ate all of his breakfast, drank his bottle and just was a little quiet. I took his temp, it was 99 degrees…a little ‘ping’ of concern hit me, but again, he’s been warm like this before so I figured that it would go away once he was more active…

I WAS going to make Canadian Thanksgiving dinner Sunday for all my peeps in Orlando. We were also supposed to be going to see Elmo at UCF Arena in the afternoon. So we had things to do and so off we went to do them. Whole Foods (that I might leave M for and marry in a legal, binding ceremony) and Ikea. Done and done.

On our way there and back, he dozed the whole time. That ‘ping’ of concern started to ping a little louder. As I unbuckled him from his car seat and picked him up, he was really really warm. So warm, in fact, that when I handed him to M once entering the house, he immediately said to me “Wow, hes really hot, you aren’t going to Elmo, are you?”, to which I replied “No. Not at all” (although secretly I really wanted to).

I gave him some infants Tylenol and took his temperature.

103.2

What. The. Fuck. (Pardon my dirty mouth, but seriously, what the fuck!)

That is one high mothering-fucking temperature! So high that I remember using temperatures like that as bragging tools when I was in Elementary School to illustrate how sick I had been. “Ya? Well, my temperature was 103.4 and my Mummy said I might die. DIE!!” (I tend towards the dramatic). I tried not to remember that as I calmly said to M “We are going to the walk-in clinic”.

He calmly replied “OK, I think that’s a good idea”.

In reality both of us had cartoon steam-whistles on our head and steam was shooting from our ears. And my body might have become an ambulance. At least that’s what I told myself as I did 75- 1.000.000  (miles per hour, folks) down the expressway to the Pediatric clinic.

An hour later, I emerged with V and my awesome in-laws. Who are awesome and met me there, at the clinic (M called them) and stayed with me the whole time. Again. Awesome.

Influenza type A. And an ear infection. Antibiotics and Tamaflu (which makes me think of Tama-chan, that seal that swam into the Tokyo Harbour and became a national icon [I have a Tama-chan doll somewhere]).

The rest of my evening was not awesome. I went and got the meds filled, drove home, medicated V up. He remained hot. In-laws returned with food (M was at work). The rest of the evening was a blur of trying to force food and fluids on Little Man. Mostly fluids.

He cried non-stop and was so hot I swear I could have cooked something on his forehead. At about 9 pm he projectile vomited all over the place and as I went to pick him up, he threw up down the front of my tank-top. Wonderful. Hot and shivering at the same time, I stripped him down and washed him down in the tub… the rest of the evening was a blur.

We finally got him settled down with some fluids in him and he went right to sleep. Poor baby was so exhausted.

I went to bed too. Poor me, so exhausted….

Actually, I went to bed on the floor of V’s room. He made so many little noises and I woke up and trekked into his room with every one that finally I made a make-shift bed from a duvet and the pad on an Ikea chair and slept with my hand on the edge of his mattress.

Fever all night long. It finally seemed to break around 2 am… and we both slept.

And did I mention that M came home from work with the stomach flu?

Our home is a bubonic plague zone right now. DO NOT COME OVER.

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5 percent

destruction-blog

V is a crack destructo-child.

Yesterday, as I was driving around with him, he reached up to his backseat window and methodically ripped the sunshade to shreds. By the time that I was able to pull over and attempt to rescue it, it was too late. Poor thing… It literally was in about 5 pieces, the shade was in tatters and covered in drool. Apparently most of it had also taken a trip to his mouth.

And currently it is residing in the dumpster. It was completely beyond saving. And this afternoon, while I was driving M’s car, V did the same this to his. It’s like he’s the Hulk or something…. he doesn’t know his own strength. He throws things around in a matter of fact manner. He is so casual about how he does it. I have gotten in the way of a few of those things he’s flung around…. man, cardboard books sure can sting when whipped at your feet.

Approximately half of his toys are missing pieces that have been forcefully removed, flung at the dog and then forgotten about. Forgotten about, that is, until I go and put them back in their correct spot. And then I get chased and the toy gets destroyed again. Really it is very funny. And reminds me of my husband….

M also leaves a trail of destruction throughout our house. However he is an adult (even though I am writing about him like he is on the same level as V…..and sometimes that’s true) and is able to pick up after himself. To an extent. There is always a little path of this and that, that follows him. A dirty sock, some crumpled pieces of paper, pens from Disney, partially opened pieces of mail, clothing draped and then ignored over my kitchen table chairs, wet towels on floor and bed… I could go on and on…

I would imagine that about 20% of my life involves picking up after my husband and 75% of my life involves picking up after my child. Which leaves 5% for me. 5% for little ol’ me…

Doesn’t sound like much but it’s just enough…

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Not Poop

baby1-blog

I am really going to make an effort to not talk about poop as often as I see seem to find myself doing it lately. There is at least one more story that I could add to the growing list of bowel-movement related posts. Since that was my topic of choice last night, I thought I would spare you the details and focus on something else…

V learned something new this evening! Well, it was the first time I have seen it, so it’s new to me. M will probably say that he’s been doing it for years (slight exaggeration)… but it was the first time I have actively seen him do it.

He has mastered the art of taking things out of other things and off of things as well. As in, out of the toy box and onto the floor. And out of the wagon and onto the floor. Oh, and off of the book shelf and onto the floor. Oh, I almost forgot, AND off of his highchair tray and onto the floor.

You see the pattern? The floor is heavily featured.

Tonight I watched him as he methodically put things into things. He has a little basketball-like net in his bath-tub and I watched him as he carefully filled it up with items. Then removed them and threw them on the floor (I mean tub). And then picked them up and put them in again. This went on and on for ages.

It was the most interesting thing to watch. And I really could just watch him play forever. It is captivating. He kept trying to stack round objects on top of each other and then would grunt with frustration when they fell off. Finally he caught on and stacked some flat things in there first, piled round things into the flat things and then topped them off with some more round things. Genius!!!!!

And then he pulled them all out and threw them into the tub.

And then repeated the whole process over again.

I actually could see him learning, it really was amazing. He problem-solved. Unbelievable. He repeated himself over and over (just like his Mama….I knew there was a little bit of me in there somewhere!)

Genius!

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Sunday

toobusy-blog

Another Sunday night poop story….. I know that you are very excited. I can feel it.

Poop is a ‘regular’ event over here. A fantastical event at least once a week that usually leads to extra cleaning on my part……

Today started with M offering to change a dirty diaper. What you say?? What kind of crazy thing is this?? What kind of parallel world are we living in? Men offering to change diapers without being provoked? Lord only knows what this is about, but I happily accept any and all offers…

So offer accepted, off they went to the changing table to sort things out.

We have to give V something to occupy himself while he is getting changed. Otherwise, he will flip himself over onto his tummy and smear poo everywhere. This we know from lots of experience… LOTS of experience.

Daddy handed V a book to look at while he unstrapped that nasty diaper.

Oh, that poor poor book….

That book was grabbed with such enthusiasm, waved all around and then suddenly (and without any warning) was abruptly shoved down the front of his diaper (suddenly and abruptly, in case you didn’t get that) A diaper that was quite well filled.

A surprised loud laugh is what brought me into the room. M turned to me, laughing, and handed me a book.

The book.

The book that was covered in poop.

‘Oh, thank you! My favorite thing!”

A book that I chose to not clean and, instead, deposit in the garbage.

The West Coast in me screaming out that I could have salvaged it instead of throwing it out. But, lets face it, it was not salvageable. There is no way that I would have been able to clean that book up and look at it other than the book that V poop-smeared.

I am sure that the smell would have clung. Or I would have imagined the smell clinging to it. And my fingers as I was holding it. And to V’s hands and face, as that’s where books usually go. I do not want to be the poop family. Really.

And so, it was hand-carried (finger-tips only) to the garbage and dutifully deposited into our trash.

Sorry book. I can no-longer accept you in our household once you have been smeared. Your memory as one of V’s first books will live on in our minds…..

You will forever be remembered as “The book covered in poop”. We will never forget you…. and neither will V’s future girlfriends…

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Banana (genius!)

banana-blog

I thought a lot about flying with V before our actual trip. A lot.

I MIGHT have over-thought everything, just a bit. I was really trying to think about things to do with him on the plane, but with a one year old that is a little tricky. Things that would work on older and younger children I didn’t think would work with him.

He doesn’t sit still ever.

And hates being held quietly and rocked like a younger child possibly would. Oh, and screams when falls asleep.

So a lot of thought went into what to take in that diaper bag of mine.

Snacks, toys, bottles and juice. That is pretty much what I had. Oh, and a banana.

The Banana, or  the herbaceous plants of the genus Musa, is cultivated primarily for its fruit.

Bananas are grown in at least 107 countries. In  popular culture and commerce, “banana” usually refers to soft, sweet “dessert” bananas. The bananas from a group of cultivars with firmer, starchier fruit are called plantains. Bananas may also be cut and dried and eaten as a type of chip. Dried bananas are also ground into banana flour.

Although the wild species have fruits with numerous large, hard seeds, virtually all culinary bananas have seedless. Bananas are classified either as dessert bananas (meaning they are yellow and fully ripe when eaten) or as green cooking bananas.

V loves them, which was why I brought one. And spur of the moment, I decided to give the whole thing to him, skin and all to eat.

Holy burst of motherhood genius!!

That banana kept him occupied for about 25 minutes. I peeled the the skin back and let him hold the whole fruit, the skin draping down over those plump little fingers.

He was enchanted.

That little mouth didn’t know exactly what to do with it though. He tried to bite it with those 8 little teeth, but didn’t have much of an effect on the banana. He tried again, and managed to get some of the fruit in his mouth. With each bite he grew braver and braver, finally managing to take a whole mouthful of the fruit in one bite.

Banana was everywhere. How nice that I decided to save this moment for his first airplane ride, eh? It was on the airplane phone, the window, me, the seat in front of us, me again, him, all over him and his seatbelt and also my hands. I actually had a collection of banana pieces in my hand, the ones he didn’t feel like keeping in his mouth and spat out. Now normally I would just drop them on the floor and shout “Chewie!!! What’s this!!!” and our dog would come running and eat it.

That doesn’t quite fly on an airplane (harhar). So I just collected those little soggy bits in the palm of my hand and waited patiently for M to finish his diet soda so I could deposit them.

So word to the mothers out there. Bananas are genius for domestic flights!

Don’t, however, try and take one through customs entering the USA without declaring it, or you will be subjected to the excitement that we were (bag searches, flagged for the ‘short’ customs lineup (aka longest line ever with super strict scanning people) and having your bag swabbed for bomb residue). If you do bring any fruit through from Canada to the USA, make sure that it has the sticker on it. Apparently Canada imports from some countries that the USA doesn’t, and this is a huge issue.

Apart from that whole kerfuffle, I am a wellspring of motherhood genius! Banana! Genius!

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Flirt

Flower V-blog

Traveling with anyone gives you a great sense of how you relate to them…

When M and I traveled together for the first time, I knew immediately we were destined for marriage…

(ha! Just kidding!! I think I was all annoyed at him for something. So nothing has really changed since then. However, we travel really well together)

When Mum and I went to Kyoto for a wee trip (and actually the whole time she stayed with me in Japan, it was the same deal. We had no problems that we couldn’t resolve) We travel well together too.

We had never traveled seriously with Little Man before and, as we were soon to discover, traveling with children is interesting.

Our flight to Vancouver was a 2-parter, Orlando to Chicago/Chicago to Vancouver.

Part One: Disaster

Involving screaming, screaming, screaming. Break. (Involving eating). Screaming, screaming, screaming. Deplane.

It. Was. AWFUL.

Part Two: Tsunami

Waves and waves of screaming/quiet, screaming/quiet. AWFUL. This went on for 3 hours.

In the Customs lineup, someone from our flight leaned over the railing in front of us and said “He didn’t really sleep that much, did he?”. Um, no. No he didn’t. Thanks for pointing that out. I hadn’t noticed at all.

In between the bouts of screaming and sleep were these rather interesting moments, where V was assessing the cabin. He likes to make eyecontact with everyone and when he does he breaks out into the hugest, most flirtatious smile you have ever seen. Those big brown eyes of his are so engaging…

So full of charm, in fact, that one Flight Attendant declared that we might be related as V apparently looked just like her brother, and she doted on him the entire flight. Her co-worker declared him to be “The Cutest Baby I have Ever Seen” (and, she also said, ‘I have seen a lot’). Of course M and I soaked this all up… (and might have preened a little as well).

And it went on and on… People…. well, women really, peering around corners and stating that he was gorgeous. That he was flirting with them. And just giggling inanely and waving like idiots….

And this is when I got the first inkling that I might have given birth to a future heart-throb…..

Right now it is adorable. Charming. Makes my heart burst… 15 years from now? It will probably make my heart break.

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Pomp and Circumstance

party-blog

A first birthday party is a big deal, as I was soon to discover. To be honest, its something that has been on my mind  for the past 6 months. This party has gone through many any reincarnations. It started out as an 80’s themed party (and in retrospect, what on earth was I planning), moved onto a ‘Star’ themed party and then just moved into a ‘party’ themed party.

I was even going to make mix-cd’s as party favours until Mike and I listened to what I had so far and we realized that I have crappy taste in music. I mean, we already knew that (seriously, who buys the Aqua cd and enjoys the other songs on it apart from “Barbie Girl”).

Regardless, I finally worked out what I wanted to do, bought everything (frequent trips to Target, BJ’s and Costco), had frequent chats with my mother-in-law re: invitations and organization.

Every question I asked M was answered like this “Whatever you think is best” or like this “That sound’s like a great idea honey!”, but no actual input. That’s fine. We all know how much I like lists and planning 🙂

Lets just say that I stayed up way too late the night before (cousin love, really, ain’t such a bad thing) and got up way too early. And then baked things all morning. And decorated. And fought some nasty woman in the party store for balloons. AND won. And walked victoriously out to the parking lot where I fought to get those balloons in my small car. Where approx 1/5th of them popped. Awesome.

Anyways, I am pretty sure I worked myself up into a right and proper state. Surprising? No. Not really.

It’s genetic.

This is a cautionary tale to those parents who have yet to experience the first birthday party.

Examples:

Do not make a commemorative cd.

Do not invite 30 people.

Do not expect your child to think cake is awesome.

Also do not expect your child to enjoy having 30 people clapping and staring at him in unison.

Forget to drink water. And forget to eat as you are fussing over everything so much.

And finally, expect to be totally exhausted, so thoroughly exhausted that perhaps you need to take a nap. And take one. For real.

I did.

And I felt much better.

I still need a few days to recover though. It’s almost the equvalent of hitting up the bars Saturday night when you are about 23. Think headache, exhaustion and inability to eat anything (except that nasty nacho cheese you can get at 7-11).

So ladies (and gentlemen) plan these parties carefully. And post-first party, think ahead carefully to next year. Now you have experience…. you can survive…

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Canadian Training

training-blog

V is currently sleeping with blankets. I am calling this ‘training for Canada’ as it is not as warm as it is down here in Florida. Let’s face it….. nothing is….

I even bought him long pajamas for those ‘harsh Canadian summers’ (as M terms it). But it IS cooler!

AND I even bought him shoes. Shoes that fit (although one pair looks ridiculously large on those little fat feet). There was no way that we were flying into another country with my child barefoot. And also no way that I would be paying $25 for a pair of baby-crocs. It’s bad enough that I spent $25 on a metal water bottle. I can use that forever. But $25 on a pair of shoes that, let’s face it, will only last him 10 days is hard to handle….

The reason I was looking at Crocs is that they apppeared to a sort of ‘multitasking shoe’ and I am all over the multitasking idea. Sort of a summer*slash*winter (in FL, that is)with socks shoe, that won’t suddenly not fit him overnight (because of the heel strap, I am thinking). But $25? I think not. I almost got sucked into the ‘Whole Foods’ web of entrapment on Saturday…. I managed to walk past the expensive water bottles (because lord knows I couldn’t excuse a second one) and walked right into the baby-Crocs aisle. But I resisted…. stayed strong….  I would have been laughed at forever if I returned from Whole Foods with another expensive purchase.

Blankets…. check!

Shoes….. check!

He is now conditioned for those rough Canadian summers. He wears shoes like a champ and can snuggle with blankets like a pro…

He is on a Maple syrup diet too, and smells deliciously sweet all the time. I really could lick his little cheeks everytime I smell the syrup on him. Such a delicious way for small children to smell. And taste.

Just wait until he tries it on Nanna’s wheat-free pancakes…. And she gets a whiff of that delicious smell on his cubby little face. She will lose herself in love with him just like I am…..

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