The next Star Wars movie will be...

Dark Vader and the Dinosaur

(May include a guest appearance by a dimunitive green man called: Yoga)

At Sixes and Sevens With You

Kyla tagged me for a meme. [At least, I think she did. The post was in my Google Reader, but it doesn't exist when I actually go to her site. This is the second time this has happened to me with a blog today. Am I the only one? Am I reading phantom posts? It's weird. Anyways.]

Technically, I think she only [phantom] tagged me for the 7 Random Facts about myself or my kiddo meme, but since she was simultaneously doing the 6th picture from your 6th folder meme, I thought I'd jump on that bandwagon too. Cause, really, who doesn't like pictures? I mean, really-? So here goes:



Strictly speaking, this is not the sixth picture of the sixth folder. It is actually the seventh. BUT, one of the pictures before this is a cropped version of the picture before it, so I discounted that one, making this one essentially the sixth. (Also the TECHNICAL sixth picture includes me coming home from the hospital with no makeup and no sleep for four days. Not pretty. I'm all about sharing, but NO ONE needs to see that..) Part of the meme is to tell the events surrounding the picture, if you can remember them. This one is simple. WE JUST HAD A BABY. Look how cute and small the Boy was! Mean parents that we are/were, we unswaddled him in the hospital so that we could get a picture of his tininess in all its miniscule glory. The Boy was NOT impressed (see above).

Since we're on the subject of the Boy, let's do 7 Random Things about The Boy:

1. He does not like vegetables very much. It's a struggle to get him to eat them. And those people who think I should just "hide" them in his food? IT DOES NOT WORK. He is on to me, and he is not impressed.

2. He can trip on flat ground with no obstacles.

3. He heard the word *sizzlin'* on Yo Gabba Gabba the other day, and he thinks it's the funniest word. Ever.

4. He thinks all presents are for him to open, no matter to whom they actually belong. Birthday parties for other people can be stressful.

5. Every morning he greets his brother with a huge smile. (And the Little Guy thinks he walks on water.)

6. He is very sensitive. Maybe a bit over-sensitive. And I love him all the more for it. Better that than a bully.

7. Thanks to our trip to PEI, he loves loves loves restaurants and hotels. I think we've created a monster.

I'm going to [phantom] tag Kgirl, Mad, Bren J., Mimi and Painted Maypole. Do you want to play a game? (Bonus points for anyone who still gets that reference. I've been watching too much Spaced. Must. Do. Pop-culture. References. Send. Help.)

The Zoo Story

What a difference a year makes! My last memories of visiting the Toronto Zoo include being insanely hot (the weather, not me) and rather pregnant (me, not the weather). The Boy didn't want to sit in the stroller, but refused to walk, so Mr Earth and I took turns carrying him. He enjoyed the zoo. Our arms, not so much.

This year, the Boy, the Little Guy and I went with my very good friend and her two children. I was a bit worried about how it would all go down, but I was pleasantly surprised. The weather was fantastic - warm, sunny, cool breeze. I couldn't stop talking about how glad I was to be out of doors on such a nice day. I felt a bit giddy with the freedom. (Or was that the vodka in my Klean Kanteen? Hm.)

The Little Guy, Mr-I-Hate-the-Stroller-Don't-You-Dare-Put-Me-In-That-Thing, sat contentedly the whole time. The. Whole. Time. Unheard of. Perhaps he was as tired as I am of looking at the same four walls of our house? Methinks we should get out more.


Oh sure, he gave me some funny looks. But he sat there. The. Whole. Time. Have I mentioned that this is unheard of? I was starting to think that he had drunk some of the contents of my Klean Kanteen. Hm.

The Boy and his friend explored the giant fallen tree. It was pretty cool. Man-made? Not sure.

I would have crawled through myself, but was afraid of getting stuck. Besides, someone had to take the pictures, right? The perfect excuse. How would I explain getting stuck in a gigantic fallen tree? Humiliating.

The boys stopped to examine a caterpillar crossing the road:

Oh sure, twenty bucks admission and eight bucks for parking, and the most fascinating animal at the Zoo? A caterpillar. He was pretty darn cute, though. (Was it a he? How does one tell these things? Are there even He-caterpillars? You can see I got me a good education..)

More shocking than the live bat we saw (Live bats. Shudder.), was the peahen who jumped out of her cage, and came to the snack bar for a little treat. Or was she window shopping? Hm.

If you look in the window, you will see the faint reflection of the Boy. I think that's a pretty neat effect for a sucky photographer like me.

One of my personal favourite parts of the Zoo (besides the weather, which really was phenomenal), was this poster:

I just think that says it all, don't you?

3 Going On 13

I thought it wouldn't happen quite so soon. I thought I had at least a few years grace. But it's official. The Boy hates me.

I get that kids go through Mummy-phases and Daddy-phases and it's completely natural, but holy crap it's hard to deal with. Especially because, in the moment, it does not feel like a phase at all. It just feels like complete and utter dislike. I can do no right.

Every morning starts out pleasantly enough. It's a fresh start. Today is the day that every will go smoothly. Then I do just one thing wrong. Just one little thing. Like not helping him with his socks right away. Like insisting he eat something other than bread. Like asking him to open his mouth so I can brush his teeth. Like making him cereal when he wanted toast. Like asking him to either walk or sit in the stroller (not sit on the curb and sulk). I am such a Bad Mother.

And then the screaming starts. And the crying. And the wailing. And the sulking. And the shouting.

"Stop being mean to me!"
(See: Bad Mother)

"You're not going to be my friend anymore!"
(Well, I'm still you're mom, and I love you. So there.)

"You're not coming to my birthday party!!"
(I got news for you, kid. If I'm not there, there IS no party.)

I only think those responses - well, except perhaps the last one - I don't say them out loud. But the constant screaming and insulting really grates on the nerves, you know? And then I start to lose my cool. And I am not nice. I scream back sometimes. I'm not proud of it. I want to stop. I want to get through one morning without the spewing of anger - from him or from me.

I'm supposed to be the adult here, but I am not doing my job well. Just call me "35 Going on 3".

Tomorrow's another day. Right?

Right??

Report Card #4

I got handed an envelope at daycare as I was dropping off the Boy the other day. Being the good parent that I am, I went home, put it on the dining table and promptly forgot about it. This is what having a second child does to your brain. I neglected to remember that July brings the bi-annual "child development review" from our daycare. Let's have a look-see...

Language Development

The Boy often calls attention to himself, objects, or events in the environment: "Look, I wear number T-shirt." He likes to talk about objects and ongoing events. He enjoys participating in conversations and discussions.

I laughed and laughed when I opened it up and read the line "The Boy often calls attention to himself." He favourite phrase is actually "Look at me! Look at ME-E!" I don't know where he gets that from - xcoughx MrEarth xcoughx. The apple doesn't have very far to fall, I'm just sayin'.

Cognitive Development

The Boy likes to listen to age-appropriate stories. He makes relevant comments during stories. He enjoys drawing pictures and attempting to reproduce basic shapes. He is able to name the primary colours and he can count to 10.

[Pic. "Robot in a Box" by The Boy 8/1/08]

Okay, now this just begs the question - are they reading him age IN-appropriate stories? I didn't really think it was that kind of daycare.
And yes, he is able to count to ten, but after ten, it all goes to pot. Twelve-eleven-thirteen-fourteen-fiveteen. Fiveteen is just too funny to correct. In fact, he may just start a trend. It makes sense! You can't fault him on that.

Motor Development

The Boy is able to go up and down stairs unassisted. He enjoys jumping in place and pedaling a bicycle. He enjoys building with blocks and playing with playdough. He shows improved control of crayons or markers. He likes to make pictures.

Thank god for the stairs thing! I can't even begin to count the freakouts I've had about that. He used to start walking down the stairs, and would just forget to pay attention. I had vertigo on his behalf. It's so much better now. But who am I kidding? I still watch him like a hawk. I just can't let it go.
Yeah...about the bicycling thing. Really? When he "rides" his bike around the neighbourhood, I'm doing all the work. I'm the Boy's bitch. Or donkey. (Which is more flattering?)

Food Consumption / Sleeping Behaviours

The Boy has a good appetite. He usually eats 1-2 servings of lunch. He can feed himself independently. He is able to fall asleep by himself after settling down on the bed. He normally sleeps about one hour and a half.

The Boy has NO PROBLEM feeding himself independently. Unless the food is healthy. I'm willing to bet that those 1-2 servings consist mostly of bread and cheese. Possibly ice cream.

Social Interaction (peers / adults)

The Boy is pleasant and cooperative. He has a sense of humour we all enjoy. He likes talking and singing among his friends. He takes pride in his work well done. He often proudly shows the pictures he made to the teachers. He cooperates well and he is a good helper and model at clean-up time.

The Boy thinks he is VERY funny. I don't know if he is or not, but he amuses me to no end. He's developped this way of laughing at his own jokes by sticking his tongue in his teeth and sort of hissing through them. No idea where he got that, but it's kind of endearing. I tried to introduce the concept of Knock-Knock jokes, but he didn't quite get the reciprocal nature of it. Plus, he's the only person allowed to be knock-knocking at the door. If you say someone or something else is there, he just looks at you like you've grown a second head.

Inappropriate Behaviours to Monitor (if app.)

N/A

Hm. He's 3.5. I beg to differ. Surely he shares the whining and tantrums with others, and doesn't just hoard them up for home??

Additional Comments

The Boy has good performance at Rob's music class. He also enjoys working with Doris during art activities. He is happy and well adjusted. He has a good relationship with his baby brother, parents and grandparents. It is a pleasure to have him in the preschool room.

Obviously we have a good relationship - we dress him in trucker hats and wifebeater tanks. We're Parents of the Year. Now, if only we could convince him to fetch our beer, we'd be all set.

Robustious Periwig-Pated Fellow

For Wordless Wednesday *

*brownie points for the person who can identify the origin of the title

Bend it Like the Boy

With the Boy only in daycare part time, I decided to sign him up for an activity. Normally, in the summer months, I say let the park be our playground, but I was a little overwhelmed by the amount of hours we had to fill, and frankly, I thought it was a good idea to have some motivation to get out of the house. The Boy is quite a homebody, and perfectly happy to spend the day playing cars and Lego in our dungeon, um, I mean, basement family room. Me, I like to get out of the house. And it's hard to get out of the house with two small children who nap at different times, and won't nap in the stroller. Really hard. Enter Soccer 101.

Now, I have no illusions that the Boy is going to be a soccer star, or even learn how to play the game properly. As far as I was concerned, if he spent the 45 minutes running around and picking flowers, at least we were out of the house. The first level is for kids 3.5-4.5, and the Boy is just shy of the age group. I decided to chance it because I didn't want to wait till next year, when he would be almost too old for the group. Plus, on Monday mornings, there were only four other kids signed up anyways. Generally, the class has about 25-30 kids. Best choice I made, it seems. He got more personal attention, and I just know that he would have been lost in a large class. Groups tend to overwhelm him, and make my spotlight-hungry child rather shy.

In seven weeks, they had three different teachers on a rotation. Dave, the serious one who plays by the rules. Andrew, the coraller and good motivator. And Rich, the funny guy who got the kids playing soccer by laughing and making jokes. Dave, although absolutely polite and nice, was not a huge fan of the Boy, you could tell. The Boy is young and highly distractible, and requires more work that some of the other kids who follow instruction better. I was not a big fan of Dave, if you can't tell. I would have been over the moon if it was Rich teaching the class each week. He kept the Boy engaged and motivated and laughing. It was the best I've ever seen him. Who did the Boy like? Dave. (Sigh. He gets that from me. I'm always desperate to impress the people who don't like me..)

Despite an initial refusal to get his clothes dirty, and countless "water breaks", the classes went pretty well, and I was surprised at how much the Boy could do. He ran while kicking the ball, put his foot on the ball, learnt jumping jacks (Star! Pencil! Star! Pencil!), and had a pretty good time for a sedentary bloke.

What was most endearing to me was what he couldn't do, though. They played a game where they had to stand with their foot on the ball, and only move when the coach's back was turned. The Boy just ran straight for the finish line. And consequently got sent back to the starting line. At least he's focused. When he was in goal, he made a point of standing with his legs wide open in a bridge so that the ball could pass through easily. He's very generous, my kid is. He constantly took the balls back to the ball bag, even in the middle of the class. They were dirty. He was being helpful.

It's things like this that made the class worth it for me. My kid plays by his own rules, and I love him all the more for it.

The Strange Case of Dr Chuckle and Mr Cried

Dear Colleagues,

I feel compelled to write you concerning a most wondrous strange phenomenon. I have, these past 40 months, made the intimate acquaintance of a patient of mine, Dr Chuckle. Dr Chuckle, to all opinion, is a jolly good sort of fellow. What he lacks in stature, he more than makes up for in mirth and compassion. It would not be unheard of for the two of us to while an afternoon playing games and singing songs. I have of late, however, noticed a remarkable change in his demeanor. Come dusk, and the time lay his head upon his pillow and fall into a peaceful and rejuvenating sleep, he morphs into a most undesirable character: Mr Cried. He wails and screams and curses the heavens till I know not what to do. "I HAVE TO PEE!" he cries. And then sits in the water closet but will not relieve himself. "I WANT TO WEAR SOCKS!" he belts. But he will not don a pair, nor will he deign to have someone cover his feet. "I WANT MUMMY!" he bellows. Or, if his mater is present, he calls for his pater. Nothing can be done to assuage him. No answer is correct. I had noted that this dubious change took place at the same time as my estimed colleague, Mr Earth, was called away on dramatic business. I thought the absence of Dr Chuckle's preferred playmate was at fault. However, Mr Earth has since returned from said business, and the antics of Mr Cried have multiplied, not diminished. Come morning, all is as before, and if I confront Dr Chuckle concerning his behaviour, he denies any knowledge of the events. Occasionally, he will issue an insincere apology, with no light of comprehension in his eyes. It is a most distressing transformation in an otherwise utterly congenial patient. I am loathe to allow this behaviour to continue, for fear of joining him on the dark side, reduced to tears and woe myself. Estimed colleagues, be warned. While Dr Chuckle is a most admirable sort, approach him with care should evening fall.

The Drawer Boy

On Friday, when we were stuck inside the house for the majority of the day, the Boy and I spent the some time doing our favourite thing - drawing. Here are the results...

Title: FUNNY PEOPLE
Artist: The Boy
Description: A card that he made for his mother first thing in the morning while she was feeding the Little Guy. Note the use of colour - indicating a strong affinity for inclusion and multiculturalism, despite the rather un-PC title (the artist is still too young to understand the sometimes unsavoury connotations of the word "funny"). People of all colours are most welcome in the artist's world. Especially the blue ones. Not that blue people are any better than anyone else...

Title: SUPERMAN 1
Artist: The Boy
Description: While critics have compared it to his earlier work "Lady Walking in a Windstorm", this is indeed the first in a series of Superman drawings. The triangular composition is impressive in such a young artist, and his use of movement and line show promise.

Title: SUPERMAN 2
Artist: The Boy
Description: A continuation of his much-famed Superman series, it is in this second work that we see the growth of the artist. The features are more proportional, and show much less fear than his earlier attempts. This Superman is in charge of the situation. The cape has moved from the head to the back and has been extended to indicate strength of purpose. Superman still has an air of hesitancy, which is explored further in later works.




Title: DOG
Artist: The Boy
Description: Titled simply "Dog", the artist has gone back to the basics, showing the natural world at its finest. This quirky little chap bears a striking resemblance to Milou, Tintin's dog. This is particularly ironic, as the artist's mother is often remarking that her son is a dead ringer for Tintin - especially after a haircut. In reality, the artist was probably inspired by his next door neighbour's dog, Seamus.




Title: MUMMY & DADDY
Artist: The Boy
Description: Possibly one of the Boy's greatest works to date. The proportions and compostion are nothing short of fantastic. However, what is truly unique about this work is the story behind it. Mummy is the figure on the LEFT, and Daddy is the figure on the RIGHT, and not the other way around as was first assumed. Daddy, it is told, wears a dress to work.

*All works included this showing are property of the artist, The Boy. Use of these images without express permission of the artist is strictly forbidden. Should anyone wish to obtain rights to an image, please contact his extremely proud mother.

Leader of the Plaque

Two doctors in two days - who woulda thunk life could get so good.

I got the call from the daycare yesterday as I was putting the Little Guy down for a nap at 12pm. I ignore the phone at nap times, preferring sleeping children over contact with the outside world. But when my cell goes off right after the phone stops ringing, I start to panic. I raced to the phone and thought I called my voicemail, but instead hit the recall button. The daycare answered and asked would I come get the Boy? It's not a medical emergency, but his eye looks pretty pink, and they're not medical doctors or anything but it's probably pink eye. Crap. Uh, I mean sugar. I thought the Boy's eye looked a slightly pinkish that morning. (And before you all think I'm that mother who sends her kid to daycare with pink eye, I'm not. Well, I guess I am, technically, but I didn't know it was pink eye! The kid gets up at some gods-unholy hour, often because he's been awakened by the loud creak of someone trying to creep past his door unheard with a baby who gets up even earlier than he does, and his eyes are often reddish-tinged from lack of sleep. I didn't know! I don't know how I missed it. I suck.)

So we spent the afternoon schlepping to the doctor's office. Conjuctivitis. Drops for the eyes and no daycare tomorrow. I also used the opportunity to get myself and the baby looked at. I have a sinus infection! The Little Guy has a bad cold! If Mr Earth wasn't out of town, we could have confirmed that he has a cold too. Yes, in fact, we do have the plague. The instructions for the eye drops suggest putting them in while the child is sleeping. Yeeaahhh...like THAT'S a good idea.

We spent today indoors laying low. We made a quick trip to the store to get diapers, but other than that we did a whole lot of nothing. I had five blissful minutes when both boys were asleep at the same time. Then the Little Guy woke up. Late in the afternoon, we had to go down to the Village for the Boy's first dentist appointment. I didn't cancel, cause he'd been on the eye medication for 24 hrs, and the dentist would be wearing gloves anyways.

Of course, the ONE TIME today that we actually had somewhere to go and something to do, the Little Guy decides to nap. He hasn't slept past 1pm all week (and has been none too happy as a result CAUSE HE'S TIRED), and he goes down for a nap about an hour before I have to feed him and go. I even caught him waking up and putting himself back to sleep. Unaided. Finally, I had to go in and make some noise to get the party started.

Because we were on the late side, and the Boy tends to drag his feet when being made to walk anywhere, I made up some silly story that if we didn't hurry, the dragon at the dentist's office would come out and get us. Bad idea, Nomo. The Boy kept asking about "the dentist dragon". Where was it? What does it eat? The dentist was none too impressed when he brought it up in the chair. I think she thought I compared her a dragon. Oops!

The Boy was okay in the chair. Just a few whimpers of "Mummy", and a refusal to lie back. The dentist counted his teeth: 20. Good? Bad? I have no idea how many teeth you're supposed to have. She gave him a new Cars toothbrush and asked him to show her how he brushed his teeth. Eventually, I had to do it because he wouldn't. They were very impressed with my brushing technique. Thank you! I've had 35 years of practice. I've become quite adept. It was also the ONLY time the Boy has allowed me to brush his teeth without a fight. I think we'll go there to brush his teeth all the time.

Of course, I just had to take a picture of our first trip to the dentist, because they didn't think I was enough of a weirdo after the whole dentist dragon debacle:

Give me the toothbrush and back away, lady.

The Straight Poop

I didn't realize that when I signed up to be a parent that I would become quite so ..preoccupied.. with bowel movements.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, we are FINALLY starting to get somewhere in the potty training arena. I never thought that starting in September, when the Boy showed no signs of interest whatsoever, and just a couple months away from the birth of the Little Guy, was a very good time to start training. But it's what the daycare wanted (naturally). I shared my concerns and they wanted to go ahead and try anyways. Far be it from me to stop them. Who knows? It could have worked.

HOWEVER, I know the Boy, who is, not surprisingly, quite a lot like me. Apple? Meet tree. When the Boy wants to do something, he does it. And not one millisecond earlier. And if he don't wanna do it, it ain't gonna happen. Period.

Thought he was never going to get teeth? BAM. Four teeth right after his first birthday. Took less than a week, and no teething pain. Nice.

Thought he was never going to walk? BAM. At sixteen months, we left him with my parents for two hours while we went to see a movie, and he went from standing and holding onto furniture, to tottering around the cottage. Weirdo.

Now, I'm not saying that potty training is going quite that well, but it is certainly a far cry from the outright resistance we've had for the last six months. Our biggest issue is, well, poop.

The Boy has a particular habit of ..letting go.. during sleep. It's what wakes him up in the morning. It's what shortens nap time. And, more recently, it's what wakes him up about 15 minutes after he goes to bed. How do you train someone to poop in the toilet, when he only does it while asleep? Once - once! - he had a small poop in the potty and we had a frakin' party. It was raining gifts and praise. I wished I had a pinata. Wahoo!

Never again.

At first, I thought that he needed the relaxation of sleep to let go. Then, I thought that perhaps he needed the comfort of a diaper. We've tried asking him to wear a diaper right before bedtime so that he can poop, but he won't have it.

Tonight, not one minute after I tucked the yawning Boy in bed and closed the door, I heard this terrible panting coming from right behind the door. The Boy often plays in bed for a bit after we put him down, but this was definite panting right behind the door. It only took me a second to realize what was happening. I stood and waited till it stopped, and sure enough, the door opened up and the Boy came out:

"Mummy, I have a poo!"

Is he waiting to poo after bedtime because it buys a few more precious parental minutes? If so, what does that say about our parenting? Am I simply reading to much into this?? Help me, dear Internets! I welcome any and all advice.

Don't Trouble Trouble

Do you ever hear somebody say something completely innocuous, and you just get this feeling in the pit of your stomach - good or bad - that it's going to come true? I do.

When it's a good thing, I call it the "Ring of Truth". It's happened to me a couple of times that stand out in my memory. In the last year of theatre school, my favourite guest teacher, Peter Hinton, handed out a pamphlet for his Restoration Theatre workshop in Abbotsford. It was seven weeks long, an their were limited spaces, but I said to my friend "I think I'm going to do this". And I knew I would. And I did. The other time, not-yet-Mr-Earth and I were at a friend's wedding, and he turned to me and said "I want that to be us up there.". We were only a year into our four year courtship, and he was drunk as a skunk (do skunks really get drunk?), but I said "I want that too." And I knew it would happen. And it did.

When it's a bad thing, I call it the "Audition Feeling". That's when you're allowed to get through your whole monologue or song, and they say "Thanks for coming out. We'll call you." And you know that you're never going to hear from them. And you don't. Let's not get into how many times I have had that particular feeling, as I don't want to get too depressed.

Now that the weather is getting better, and the Little Guy is getting older, we have decided to drop a couple of days from the Boy's daycare schedule. He'll still be going three days a week, but we'll save some money, and I'll get more of a chance to hang out with the Boy while my mat leave plays out. We have to keep him in part time so that we don't lose our spot entirely. It feels like a good decision. It feels right. I'm also a little scared that I won't be able to handle it gracefully, but whatever - suck it up Nomo.

This morning, when I dropped the Boy off at daycare, one of his teachers said "I'm really going to miss him when he's not here every day. He's doing so well." Nice enough, right? But the way that she said it sounded like we were leaving the daycare entirely. It scared me. It took a LONG time to get a daycare spot. Anyone who lives in our area of the city knows that they are next to impossible to find. And I can't afford to lose it. And I can't go back to work part time either. It's full time or nothing in my position.

Now, what felt like a good decision, may turn out to be the worst possible one if I can't get our spot back. I'm already stressed out that we have no solution for the Little Guy, as most openings around here start at 16-18 months, and I have to go back when the Little Guy is 12 months. He's not on any daycare list at all as I'm in denial, and it seems futile when there is just no spot to be had. Am I borrowing trouble??

I'm just going to close my eyes and hope that it all works out in the end. Mature, no?

Parenting or Personality?

We were out at the No Frills not too long ago, shopping for some last minute dinner (PC Butter Chicken, if you're interested...no?...anyways..). The Boy, eschewing the stroller, was running around ankle-biter style, endlessly commenting on the things in the store and asking repeatedly for chocolate. The lady behind us in line smiled and remarked on how happy and well-behaved the Boy seemed to be. I didn't hear the comment exactly because I was off somewhere wrangling one of the kids - I can't remember which but does it really matter? My current occupation is Kid Wrangler Extraordinaire, and if I'm not with one kid, then I'm with the other. Let's move on to my point. Mr Earth replied that "Yes, we're very lucky". To which, the lady answered:

"Oh no, it's not luck, it's the parenting."

At first I thought that it was a lovely compliment, and I was quite flattered. Ever since then, though, I've been mulling it over in my head and wondering if it really is our parenting that has created the Boy, or whether the Boy is simply a good-natured, (mostly) easygoing kid.

Before you start thinking that this is a braggy bragamondo post, I've had people describe the Boy as a "handful" (yeah, that waiter didn't get a tip, nosiree..) and I've had my fair share of disdainful looks while the Boy is full out tantruming (is that a word?) in his stroller. Screaming. At. The. Top. Of. His. Lungs. Usually because I turned left when he wanted to go right, or brought fishy crackers when he wanted bunny ones.

You see, I don't think we've done anything especially wonderful and ground-breaking as parents. Just tried to be there for him, play with him, talk to him and treat him like a person. And try not to scream too much, even when we're tired. And we're tired too much. I'd like to believe that all the Parenting books I've read have shaped me into SuperMom, but the reality is that I read those books and think "What a great idea!", try to incorporate the idea into our lives, but my mind is a sieve, and great ideas go out the window when I'm tired and someone is screaming. Or I'm tired. Wait, I think I said that already..

Whatever we did right with the Boy, is something I'd like to repeat with the Little Guy. I'd like him to fool people into thinking he's well behaved too. Heh, heh. But how can we do that when we didn't "do" anything? Or worse, how can we do anything at all if personality is the the key, and not parenting?

Mostly I'm an average parent. A lot of times, I'm rather poor. Sometimes, I have moments of brilliance. Those moments, though, are few and far between.

Walk Like a Man

Friday morning, 6:15am. I hear a small hand knocking at the door. Snug in my bed but not yet asleep after an early morning feeding, I don't immediately register the sound. Once I do, I think it must be coming from the residents next door (they keep early hours and other people's kids). I close my eyes again. Next I hear a small voice calling my name:

"Mamma? ...Mamma? ...Mamma!"

I sigh and throw off the covers, sleep denied. I open the bedroom door. No one is there. The knocking starts again. It's coming from inside the Boy's room. I open the door. The Boy is standing just inside. I turn on the light.

"I had a wonderful sleep!" the Boy volunteers.

"Did you now?" I sigh again, required to start my day long before my wishes.

So much has happened in the last four months. We've come so far without really going anywhere that I forget, sometimes, that it has been a relatively short time since we've become a family of four. I forget, too, that while it has been a big adjustment for us all, the biggest strides have had to be made by the Boy. He was aware of the changes to come but completely unprepared for what they entailed. He has been, for many months now, very excited that he is a Big Boy. But it wasn't until the baby arrived that he really had to prove it. Test his mettle.

All at once, he's being asked to use the potty, learn to dress himself, stop sucking his thumb, walk instead of be carried, help with the baby, and on and on and on till I'm surprised that he doesn't retreat into his pre-brother world and hide away, a little fly stuck in amber. There he would be showcased in crystalline perfection, with no room for salty tears and banging fists. No one would see his disappointment when no pee comes out. Or hear his quiet query in the stroller: "Can I suck my thumb?" Or see him trip on a completely level floor.

What would they see? A Boy who has a sunny disposition and a heart of gold. A Boy who is envelopped in a four kid bear-hug before he can get his coat off at daycare. A Boy whose perceived faults only make him more perfect. If love were enough, he would know that he can only be wonderful in our eyes. He would know that exasperation and nagging, and yes, even involuntarily harsh words are simply a result of the circumstances, and no reflection on how we feel about him.

Because there is plenty of time to grow up. And if he can't figure out how to open his bedroom door, that only means we will get to love him that much closer, that much longer.

Report Card #3

It's always fun to see your kid from the viewpoint of others, so I love these little "Child Development Reviews" that they give from our daycare. I pretty much think the sun shines out of the Boy's arse (when he's not being a maniac), so I need some perspective. My comments are in italics:

Language Development

[The Boy] is a very verbal child and is not afraid to ask for help. He always has wonderful stories to tell and is an active participant during circle. [The Boy] enjoys singing songs with Rob, listening to stories during circle time and he is often heard singing his favourite songs throughout the day.

Yup, not afraid to ask for help, although "Mummy help" usually means "Mummy do." Lucky for him I'm a sucker for good manners. As long as he says please, I'm pretty much his puppet on a string. The Boy has just started to develop his own interests when it comes to music. This is really funny until he asks you repeatedly to sing a song that you've never heard of, or until you have to listen to Speed Turtle for the gazillionth time.

Cognitive Development

[The Boy] has a wonderful imagination. He is often found in the dramatic area with several other children role playing, or cooking lunch for babies and animals. [The Boy] is able to recognize some letters, especially those in his name, and count objects consecutively. He enjoys putting together puzzles alone or together with other children.

The question is - what are these babies and animals having for lunch? And why doesn't he make lunch for me?? I'm really busy sitting on my ass and eating bonbons, after all. I digress. I would disagree with recognizing "some" letters, I would say that he recognizes about 23 of the 26 letters in the alphabet. I would also disagree with the counting objects consecutively, unless you think "1 2, 3, 5, 9, 14, 15, 16" is consecutive, that is.

Motor Development (Fine/Gross)

[The Boy] has wonderful fine motor skills. He hold pencils with the pincer grasp when he is creating his many daily masterpieces. [The Boy] has been practicing very hard at independently taking off his slippers, as well as putting on his boots. Way to go, [The Boy]!! Outside, [The Boy] enjoys riding the bicycles, building sand castles, playing in the playhouse and playing soccer and hockey.

Other than the part about the pincer grasp and daily masterpieces, this comment is clearly meant for another child. We have a really cool bike that we got last Christmas that is gathering dust in the shed. We also have sports equipment that rarely gets touched. But we do have a LOT of artwork. I mean, a LOT. I'm thinking of selling it on Ebay. Didn't some guy make a film recently about his kid's artwork being indistinguishable from modern art?? I stand to make thousands. To support my bonbon habit, of course.

Food Consumption / Sleeping Behaviours

Most days [The Boy] is a great eater, often asking for second servings. [The Boy] sleeps at least an hour every day.

Sure, he's a great eater at our house, if I serve only pasta and crackers. I swear, he goes to daycare solely to avoid scurvy.

Social Interaction (Peers/Adults)

[The Boy] is very social. He is always playing with many friends in the dramatic area or working together to build castles and cars with the blocks. [The Boy] has no fears about expressing his emotions or concerns to peers and adults.

He must get this from his dad.

Inappropriate Behaviours to Monitor (if appl)

N/A

Ha! Obviously, he saves the tantrums for me.

Additional Comments

[The Boy] is a joy to have in the classroom. He always has a smile on his face and is always ready to joke around and have fun.

This is the Boy at his best. I know I'm biased, but I think he'spretty fantastic little man. We're very lucky.


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In other news, check out the new bling on my sidebar, awarded by the lovely KC at Where's My Cape. I'm blushing.




I'd like to pass on the blingy goodness to another excellent one-handed blogger, Kgirl at The Kid's are Alright. Eventhough she only gets to post when the stars align and the kids are asleep (I hear ya, man), every post is gold.

What I wish I had said the other day...

...to the otherwise very nice teacher at our daycare centre...

"Believe me, there is no one else - with the obvious exception of Mr Earth - who would like to see the Boy using the potty more than me. We have introduced the subject time and again, only to be met just shy of complete resistance. By complete resistance, I mean shouting 'NO I DON'T WANNA GO TO THE POTTY!' and other similar choice phrases. I fully support the daycare's attempt to get him interested in potty training. In fact, in the end, I believe it may be the only way to get him to use the potty - he has always been a child who wants to do what everyone else is doing. The reason(s) that I have not pushed the subject harder to date is because, in my qualified opinion, he has not shown any of the typical signs of potty readiness other than wanting to buy new underwear (and that, only because he likes presents, like his mum). He does not tell me when he has to 'go'. He is not at all uncomfortable wearing wet diapers, pull-ups, or even underwear. He doesn't show any resistance to wearing diapers or pull-ups. He has difficulty taking off his pants and underwear, and usually asks us for help in doing so on the few occasions that he actually tries. Need I go on? Also, we just had a new addition to our family a few months ago, and it's taking some time to adjust, however amiable and easy-going the Boy may happen to be. I RESENT the implication that I am not potty training our child because it "might be more work for me". It's more work for me to change two sets of diapers, instead of sending one child off to the potty. I may be exhausted from tending a newborn, but I CAN see the big picture. Plus, I don't have a lot of money and I am spending upwards of $60 a week to keep the shit from hitting the floor, to be crass. Because I respect you and your experience with children, I am going to try out your suggestion and spend a couple of days of having him just wear underwear, and see what happens. Frankly, I don't have much faith that it will make a difference. BUT, as I said before, I DO want him to be potty trained. I was just hoping that it would happen more agreeably, with support from the most important factor in the equation - the Boy.

Thank you for your input."

So Soothe Me!

They say there's a sucker born every minute. I don't know about that, but there were certainly two born in our household.

When you've got a couple of suckers on your watch, what do you do? Well, you end up jumping into the fray of the ongoing Mommy-battle: The Thumb, or The Soother? In one corner, we have The Thumb. It's all natural, can't be lost (we hope), the first thing that babies explore and the go-to choice for sucking. In the other corner, we have The Soother. You lose them constantly, have to disinfect them repeatedly, babies have to learn how to keep them in their mouths, BUT they are theoretically easier to get rid of later on, and will supposedly cause less dental problems down the line.

The Boy was a finger-sucker from very early on. Ensconced in the blissful two-on-one days of new parenting, we allowed it. Encouraged it even. I (all too vividly) recall hours of sitting on a couch with a (clean) finger stuck in his mouth. You couldn't go anywhere or do anything, but whatever. He eventually found his own thumb, and hasn't looked back since. For me, it's not all the big a deal. I sucked my thumb until I was five. My parents tried to get me to stop, but the more they harassed me, the harder I sucked. I just did it behind their backs. I did stop, eventually, but it was on my own time. On my own terms.

You'd be surprised at how much flak we get from the public, though. Daycare teachers have made passing comments about it. Nothing offense, but still. The ladies who run the local fruit market chastise the Boy when he sucks his thumb. I let that go, but it's a struggle. Total strangers have actually reached into my stroller and pulled the still wet thumb from his mouth. That made me mad. Now that he's three, we're trying to gently discourage him from the thumb-sucking. From everything I've read though, it isn't a real problem dental-wise till they're four or five.

Not surprisingly, it turns out that the Little Guy is a sucker too. If anything, he a bigger sucker than his brother. I've checked to make sure he's not hungry. He just wants to suck. A lot. And he gets mighty angry if he can't. Gone are the days, though, when we can leisurely sit and, well, give the Little Guy the finger. And you can't get anything done at all. Not. One. Thing. I'm not trying to be a Super Mom here, either. There are just some things that I have to do. Want to get the Boy dressed. SCREAM! Want to make the Boy some breakfast? SCREAM! Want to give the Boy a bath? SCREAM! Want to feed, dress or bathe myself? SCREAM, SCREAM, SCREAM! And then just to change things up a little, he will SCREAM A LITTLE LOUDER!!!

So this time around, we are trying to introduce the Soother. The Boy didn't take to it at all, but we only made half-hearted attempts really. This time, the Soother is a survival mechanism. I've always been slightly opposed to soothers though. I've seen some parents use it to shut their kids up, instead of the intended purpose of soothing a child who really doesn't want anything else than to suck. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and it stuck with me. It's all too easy to offer the kid the soother anytime he cries, rather than seeing what's actually wrong first. In fact, I'm already worried that I've fallen into that trap. But I simply don't know what else to do. It's impossible to function normally with an underscoring of SCREAMING every time you have to do necessary household tasks. So far, it's helped a bit, but the Little Guy is having difficulty keeping it in his mouth.

How do you feel about Soothers vs Thumbs? Is one better than the other? Is one wrong, and one right? And how in the heck do you get the kid to keep the pacifier in his mouth if sucking is what he truly wants to do?? I don't know if I'm doing the right/best/smart thing here, I'm just doing what I can to get through the day. I may regret it later. Let's just hope that the "later" is a long time coming.

And now I'm going to go and try to dry out my water-logged finger.

Triptych

You're 3 today! Has it been that long? There's so much I want to say, so much that should be said to mark this most important of occasions, but the truth is that I am dog tired. (Does this really apply? Is the modern dog's life truly so tiring?? I digress...). As I stare at the screen, the only coherent thoughts I can muster are these - 3 times 3:

Happy Birthday Boy!

I'm so proud.

I love you.

Memories of 2007

Sounds like a President's Choice marinade, no? Although I'm 3 days late (No, I'm not pregnant. Ew! Way too soon for that..) to usher in the new year, I thought the passing of the old into new should be marked somehow. Many bloggers are posting their first sentences from each month of the last year, or linking to their best post or just giving a summary of what went on in 2007. Well, I don't want to bore you (any more than I already do), so that's out for me. Instead, I thought I would post a few samplings of the Boy's loquaciousness.

The Boy, when not given over to tantrums as is the norm these days, can be most charming and funny. Here are a few of my faves...

1. On seeing a Santa decoration on a porch or in a window...

Boy: "A Santa, Mummy! A Santa! Look, mama, a Santa!"

Nomo: Oh, hi Santa!

Boy: (with disdain) "Nooo, he can't talk, he's a decoration."

Apparently, I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed.


2. Just ask him what the Cracker Man (read: the Nutcracker) says...

"I broke my peanut!!"

Let me just say that it took us a long time to figure out he was saying peanut. We thought it was something entirely differently...and rather painful.


3. Heard at least once every morning, afternoon and evening...

"Can I paint now? I want to paint!! Can I draw now, please??"

He knows the way to my heart, that one.


4. When asked what his favourite show is..

"Sweeney Todd"

This pleased his father overmuch.


5. When put in the stroller over the holidays...

"Which coffee store we going to? Second Cup? Starbucks?? What are you going to have at the coffee store? Where's the coffee store? I can't see it, mummy."

Maybe we go for coffee too much.


6. When talking to anyone on the phone:

"Wanna come to my house?"


7. My favourite bedtime ritual...

Boy: This is our secret cave. No one can come in.

Nomo: Goodnight, Boy. I love you. I'll see you in the morning.

Boy: No, I'll see you in the morning!

Nomo: No, I'll see you in the morning!

Boy: No, I'll see you in the morning!!

This can go on forever..


8. To his father - without prompting...

"You are my best friend in the whole world."

Well, now we're sunk. How can we deny him anything??

Out of the mouths of babes

Overheard at Casa Earth...

The Boy: What's that on your forehead?

Mr Earth: Where?

The Boy: Dere!

Mr Earth: What does it look like?

The Boy: Stripes!

Nomo: Stripes?

(Pause)

Do you mean wrinkles?

(Scrunches forehead)

See, Mummy's got them too. They're called wrinkles, not stripes.

The Boy: Oh. Wrinkles?

Nomo: Yes.

(sound of Nomo snickering)

The Boy: Why you laughing?

Nomo: (some unintelligible comment about "wrinkles" vs "stripes" as I desperately try to stop laughing)