Hydrated

Superbowl is always a good time.

At half-time, my son put on quite the show. There was dancing, hand waving, some flailing and a few interesting moves involving ‘up and down’. A crowd of adults gathered around him, egging him on with some synchronized clapping and a few cheers.

After half-time, it was time for a quick bath at Gramma’s and a pj change. But for some reason, post half-time show, the bath was not a good idea. The getting naked part was though! V was so happy to strip down to his diaper. and also to just stare at the water filling the tub. And throw things into it. But actually get into the tub?

No. Way. In. Hell.

Every attempt I made to lower him into the water was met with his legs retracting and heading directly for my waist. ha! It was rather funny! I tried about 5 times and with each attempt, his shrieks got louder and louder until Grandparents ran into the bathroom with wide eyes, wondering what on earth was going on.

I settled for a bum-rinse. Good enough.

My Mum walked in while I was trying to diaper him while he was standing. Let’s just say I am not a pro. I am so not a pro that my Mother said “Hmmm, let’s just see how long that lasts”.

Well, it lasted pretty long. I was feeling a wee bit smug.

And then, around 1:30 am, he woke up crying. I think he was overtired from the party, the dancing and the nude streaking he did through the living-room.

I picked him up, snuggled him until he calmed down and cosied him up in his crib.

Walking back into our bedroom, I felt a little damp. I reached down to my stomach and pulled my damp tank top away from my skin. My fingers didn’t even understand what I was touching. I climbed into bed and snuggled up to the dog and the Big M.

My brain woke up about 2 minutes later and said “Jaime, that is urine.” I sat up in bed and pulled my top up to my nose and inhaled. Didn’t smell like pee. Didn’t smell like anything.

But I knew it was. And so, well, I got out of bed. Woke V back up. Changed him. Put him back to bed. Smelled my tank top again (Why?! Why!!!). Changed out of it. And then back to bed.

So. What is up with me smelling my pee-soaked top? And what is up with it smelling like nothing??

I must have an incredibly well-hydrated child.

Regret-ish

You know how sometimes you immediately regret what you just did?

Like perhaps  talking about ‘male parts’ in a hardware store. Or letting your very small dog sleep with you in bed. Now that’s the only place he will sleep at night. Or letting said small dog bully you and your husband into not hugging or kissing in sight of that dog. He barks until we stop.

M has nicknamed him the ‘cockblocker’.

I am sure you have you list of regrets. I know there are more on my list, those were just a few to tease you with.

My recent regrets:

Regret #1

V’s introduction to the ability to make the toilet make items go ‘bye-bye’. What was I thinking!

Actually, what I was thinking was that I would try and get him more interested in the potty. I sit him on it naked after the bath (for 2 seconds and whisk him off before he gets squirmy). So I thought I would combine that with taking a little piece of toilet paper, crumpling it up  and flushing it ‘bye-bye!’. I might be the stupidest person in the world.

I might as well have taught him how to start the car.

Regret #2

We had a can of whipping cream in the fridge from Thanksgiving. Now I am a sucker for things like that. I have been known to stand in the open door of the fridge and fill my open mouth with it. Yum.

So, the other day while V was sitting in the fridge (just ignore that part of the sentence), I grabbed the can and squirted some in my mouth. He looked up at me with a curious expression.

Without even thinking, I bent down with the can. He immediately opened his mouth (just like a baby bird) and I squirted some whipping cream right in there.

The look of surprise was just priceless. Followed by a look of delight. Followed by a small moment of panic when I thought I heard M coming down the stairs. How can I explain V sitting in the fridge with a mouth full of whipped cream and me red-handed with the can?

I would never hear the end of it, just like I never hear the end of the time he caught me in my underwear, standing in front of the open freezer with a container of Cool-Whip and a spoon at about 6:30 in the morning in his parent’s apartment. That was 6 YEARS AGO! For the love of god!

Anyways, happily he did not appear.

V and I hung out in the fridge for a little while longer. A few more little squirts of whipped cream, several delighted and messy grins from my Little Man.

And now an unending fascination with the whipping cream can, its bright red lid and the bottom shelf in the fridge where the can lives.

Maybe I should move it? Nah… then he wouldn’t sit in the fridge anymore…

xoxo a.m.