The Sweater so far

My first attempt at cable knit

All of the pieces unattached

  Here are some pictures of the sweater I have been working on for Rohan for Christmas.  This bad boy has taken me AGES to knit.  Thankfully I have been taking a sweater knitting class so there was a lot more instruction and a lot less winging it like most of my projects that fail miserably!

It has worked out amazingly thus far, and though I am sure there will be a little less excitement come Christmas morning when Rohan finds out that the super special surprise that I have been working on all these months is just a boring old sweater, I am very very proud of my stick-with-it-dness that I have had with this project.

Now to try to get the diaper soaker  accomplished for Avery before Christmas........

Blogging AWOL

I don't know what happened, it was a downward slop of neglect.  This regretful absence from the blogging world.  I was doing pretty awesome, then, well, I got lazy.  I am a bit of a half projecter by nature.  I start projects like a champion, then shortly before I complete said project, I get bored and move on the next one.  I will try not to do that with this, how on earth am I going to remember any information about the kiddies childhood in the future if not here, written for all the world to see? 

I have been a bit busy these days (as if that is a good enough excuse), what with Christmas coming and my attempts to make it as cost efficient and earth/local friendly as I can.  So far it has been pretty successful, I am knitting Rohan a sweater (pretty big project, I have to basically beat the crap out of all of my procrastinating urges!!!) and Avery a soaker diaper (fingers crossed that I will be able to even get that guy started by Christmas) and a few other projects on the go.  I am feeling pretty good about it.

Also, the kids have been busy........ getting big!  Avery has been on the brink of walking for weeks now.  He is now gabbing away as if he is have a real conversation with you, so unbelievably adorable  This little lad is signing like a champion as well.  He says more, milk, cereal, all done, light...maybe more, I can't think right now.  He is also pushing out his eighth tooth, gracefully of course.

Rohan is getting so adult like these days.  He is helping Avery with his signing, which is probably the cutest thing on planted earth.  I have been told that he is becoming quite the star pupil in his preschool, exceptional cleaning and listening skills they say.  He was very good sitting on Santa's knee this year, and even asked him for a baseball bat and a glove for Christmas (which he has been repeating constantly, who knows where he got it from).

Yeah, so this was a bit of  warming up to getting back into swing of things.  A quick update.  A little up to speeder.  I am distracted by Hockey and my insatiable desire to just go to bed................hmmm yes, that could be another main reason why I have been slacking, my embarrassingly early bed times (you would do it to if you were up between 4:30 and 5:30am every morning).  You know you are lame is you are yawning and stretching at 8:30 at night. 

I was cool once, really.............

Gender Bender

Sometimes you end up having a conversation with your 3 year old child that makes you give your head a 'where on earth did he come up with that idea, I am definitely going to need to have a conversation with daddy tonight' shake.

I was outside playing hockey with the wee man yesterday and we got onto the conversation about being able to play good hockey and being fast, you know, the average athletic conversations you tend to have with a youngster while partaking in an athletic activity.  When out of the blue, he comes out with 'I am the fastest runner in the world because I am a boy'.  What the.............

Okay, so I get the previous statements he has made, differentiating between the genders by comparing myself and his papa, boys eat meat, girls eat veggies, boys drink milk/beer girls drink water.  These make sense (sort of) because that is how it is in our household, not because we have discussed with him about these specific (and totally false, obviously) girl, boy differences.  It was funny, it was cute.

This, however, is just way off and not something I want him believing in.  As delicately as I could, I explained to him that people are good at different things such as running, playing hockey, reading etc.  because they practice a lot, not because of their gender.  Do you know what he said to me?

'No mom, it's just real, boys are faster than girls, for true mom, it is just real'.  Where in the hell did he possibly come up with this idea, and why was he not taking what I was explaining to him as truth?  And how did he come up with telling me that it is real?  What the fuck?

So my thoughts are that his dad said something like that in passing as a joke, or that he heard a random and (hopefully) joking conversation between people and took it as real.  Whatever the case, it a little bit breaks my heart to think that he thinks that boys are better then girls at ANY thing.

Is there any one out there in blogger land that has had a similar conversation with their little one?  Any thoughts on how I might persuade him against being sexist 3 year old?

One Step Ahead

Every so often when you have had enough days/weeks/months of just managing to 'get by' you notice that things have changed up a bit, overnight like, but not, because it was a gradual process really, you were just not paying attention.

All of the sudden your infant turns into a baby turns into an attempted toddler, pointing, talking (dat, as in whats dat), signing (milk, all done, water, light, more) and cruising the furniture like a champion.  And then you notice that he is one step ahead of you, moving the rigged up gate to the side to make his way up the stairs, pushing the on and off button on the computer when you aren't looking, dancing when there is any music on, foot stomping head banging kind of dancing.

Then the toddler turns little man surprises the hell out of you one fateful morning with his big boyedness.  While sitting contentedly at the kitchen table with a dry erase book he got last year for his birthday (actually it was for Avery's 'birth' day) he screams at you in a delighted Ro Ro shriek.  I look over at his fancy work and there in bright green marker was the outline of each letter to the word truck.  He filled out the outline of the letters without any help or prompting.  Big boy alert.  Then, as if to prove how smart and one step ahead of where I thought he may be, he did one of the mazes and made it from point A to point B with only one misstep.  Crazy.

These little steps in growing up seem to totally blow me away.  One day you are struggling, cajoling, bribing for your wee one to pee ANYWHERE but in their pants, asking them every 20 minutes if they have to pee.  Then, without even recognizing the change, you start depending on them to decide when to pee, letting you know, and THEN they just go when they have to go without any sort of consultation.  All that struggle and in the end, it happens when it happens and no sooner.   Kids, they are just full of surprises!

Sally Homemaker to the Max Yo!

I have weaned myself off of all those mom blogs over the last year.  I felt so incompetent and lazy as a mom, as a homemaker and as a person.  The lists of amazing things that were accomplished in a day all the while being a super awesome, perfect, profound yet edgy mom.................it just became too much for me.

That is why this here blog post is going to sound as if I am catering to yet another of my many hypocrisies in life.  Oh well, what eve's right?  I will stand on the top of a mountain and shout out at the top of my lungs 'I rocked the Sally Homemaker today'!  And I did, and I am so proud of my fine self!

What did you do today, you may ask your fine self, well.......oh, what didn't I do, I say.

I rocked out 10 dozen cookies for Rohans pre-school, making that a total of about 18 dozen cookies baked over the last couple of weeks.  Whew, a lot of freaking cookies let me tell you.  These cookies are so filled with nothing good for you that they may very well be the best cookies I have made to date.  I have a tendency to try to healthify my baking by using whole wheat flour and cutting in half, if not totally omitting, the sugar.  They always turn out tasting...........healthy.  These babies, however, are all white flour and tons of sugar.   Yummm 

While in the process of baking these mass quantities of cookies, I was preparing our dinner, which was our third night of a variation of a gigantic pot of chili that I made.  Third night folks.  Not only the third night that every one had to suck back chili in one form or another, but the third night in a row that everyone was super happy with their meal and ate it ALL.  Chili.  Crazy.  I kind of wish I actually liked chili more!

And so there I am, baking like a champion and saving money on groceries by reusing yet another meal, holding onto or entertaining Avery all the while. I was taking little breaks here and there, doing a load of dirty diapers, cleaning up a little accident that Ro-Dog had, feeding the A-Rock some mama milk.

After cleaning up the dishes, and giving them each a bath (Ro-Dog refuses to share the tub with his brother), A-rock gets some more mama milk and a story and beddy bed times.  Ro Ro fell asleep on the couch watching hockey.  A good day.  A very good day in fact.

Somehow I had sunshine up my arse all day long today.  I was singing and dancing and just so dang happy for no particular reason.  My conclusion?  You get a lot more shit done when you do it with a smile.  Right?  Right?

trees give us energy

If you have ever wondered of the books that you read to your kidlets at night actually affect the way that they think, get a load of some of the lengthy and in depth conversations  I end up having with Rohan about trees.  Actually, it has mostly him telling me about trees.  Our conversation usually goes something like this;

Rohan: They have to stop cutting down all of out trees, they have cut down, like, ten of them already.

Me: You are right Rohan it is not nice to cut down so many trees.  But what do we need trees for Rohan?

Rohan:  Trees give us maple syrup and good energy, we need trees very very much.  They should plant a tree.  But it is a lot of work, we have to get water and then water them, too much work.

Me:  Well Rohan, most of the trees get their water from the rain, so planting a tree isn't so much work after all.

Rohan:  They ruin everything when they cut down so many trees.

Ha!  I have actually had this conversation with Rohan during almost every single nature walk we have.  My little environmentalist, don't get him started on littering.......

If you are wondering about the book?  The Lorax of course!

Number One Fan

Rohan loves to sing.  I may have mentioned this in times past, and it still very very much true today.  In fact, he has elevated to using words in his songs naming them such catchy ditties as 'eat your dinner', oh god, there was a hilarious one today and I cannot seem to remember it.  Regardless, he sings a lot.

All of the time.  He may have caught this from me, the Broadway way..  I sing.  A lot.  About everything.  He listens to me when I sing.  He dances.  He loves it.  At least someone does.  He may be my biggest fan.

And Rohans biggest fan?  I thought for sure it would be me, his mother, it would make sense right?  But sometimes, very occasionally (see: all the bloody time) his singing gets a little shrill, loud and kind of painful to hear, for me anyway.  But there is one other being in our home that cannot seem to get enough of Rohans melodic melodies.

Avery.

He swings his arms, flails his legs, shakes his body, waves his head from side to side.  He has even had occasions in which he has joined in the rhythm and blues busting out of Rohans mouth.  Both of them singing away.  It is the greatest thing on earth to watch.  Seriously.

There's Rohan playing with something and almost subconsciously singing away, you glance across the room at Avery, and there he is flailing about with a look of total elation alight in his eyes.  Ahhh these boys, sometimes they really rock my world.  Really.

Commitment Phoebe to the extreme

To continue on the thoughts of my previous post and the sentiments of career searches, parenthood and what to be when I grow up, I have had a personal awakening.  I hum and haw about almost EVERYTHING.  It is not because I don't want to this, or I don't want to that (though, of course, these are minor parts in the big picture), it is because I have commitment phoebe to the extreme.  To the extremey McExtremersons.

An example of this disease is my contemplation of today.  Do I go to the store and purchase a coffee.  The thought process of such a decision was as follows:

'Do I really need a coffee, I have already had one today'
'Should I really spend the money?  I need to be more aware of a budget as I don't have incoming cashola'
'Yup, I should get coffee, I brought my take away cup, I should just do it.  Besides, I can't go in there and buy a muffin and then hide it in my pocket so Rohan cannot see it, I have to make it look like I went in there for a reason...'
'Yes I should absolutely get a muffin'
'Hmmm should I really go to the store?  *glances at clock* I have to kill some time so as to not be to early for school, yes, I should definitely go to the store'
'Oh but the money'
'I should get Rohan a smoothy'
'I will use my bank card so I can still have cash on me'
etc. etc. etc

Final decision? Coffee, cookie, smoothy and a chapstick so I can put it all on the card with less guilt.  All of this and more during a 10 minute drive to take Rohan to school.  Crazy!

If this is the torment I go through to figure out whether I should get a coffee, imagine the utter distress that consumes me when I think about the possibility of going back to school, to do what, and what careery type job I would like to take on and suffer with (enjoy) until retirement (fingers crossed on retirement).  Why am I not one of those career driven, knows what she wants and lets nothing stand in her way in order to achieve it kind of gals?

I hum, I haw, I procrastinate.  If something gets in my way, I figure it was not meant to be and move on.  I am so unmotivated and I am not sure how it happened.  I am so unorganized on so many levels that I am putting my virgoism to shame.

I would love for someone to just tell me what I would be good at, and go from there.  Self doubt is creating a defeatist attitude, and in turn forcing me to remain at a stand still.

I am at present knitting Rohan a sweater, maybe if I finish this small project, I will be able to do the same with larger and more life altering decisions?!  I mean, I did finally decide to get the coffee and cookie, and I do not regret a thing.................

Oh me oh my, what is a girl to do?

I am having a difficult time finding a job and child care these days.  A statement that is a whole lot of truth, but on more levels than you may think.  Have I made an honest effort in my attempts at seeking employment/care for my children?

Nope, I really haven't.

Why you may ask?  Well I feel as if I have reached a critical point in my job seeking career.  I am now 32 with 2 children and I am at the point where the job I acquire may very well have, and should have, a permanent position in my life.  I can not help but think that I longer have the luxury to find any old employment.  Any old job.  I have to love it.  I have to make actual money with it, or it is just not worth it.

Not worth what you may ask.  Not worth paying someone else to take a major part in raising my children.  And so it brings me to child care.  Have I inquired anywhere for childcare as of yet?  Nope.  I have not even made an honest effort to put my little feelers out.  I have tried to think of possible alternatives to sending the kiddies to daycare, friends, alternatives in job hours, in jobs.

Actually, it is the finding of daycare for Avery that is killing me.  He is too young.  He needs his mama, or someone he is related to or extremely comfortable with.  I just cannot bring myself to send him away to day care.  He still nurses on demand.  He is still a baby.  He doesn't understand why I am leaving him every day.  Rohan can understand words, though the actual concept of a job may not get in, I do know that he is doing very well at school and I find that encouraging.  He is older, he has had 3 and a half years with me, I feel better about his possible enrollment into a daycare.  I have done the majority of raising him.  He is okay.

But not my baby.  It feels so wrong that I was able to give so much of myself for so long to one child and so little to the other.  I am really in a turmoil here.  I don't want to give him up.  And so the delay in a serious job search, and so the delay in childcare.  It has to happen soon, but I have forced myself into some sort of standstill.

The man is off work come December, I would love to wait until then.  But can we afford that?  And what happens come summer time when he has to go back to work?  What happens to my job?

Oh yes, my mind is reeling, the stress is building and the funds are running out.  And so it goes when you don't have a career before you have a family. Oh yes, and that serious lack of french knowledge while living in Quebec really does not help!

Oh me oh my, what is a girl to do??

It's business time

The difference between the male and female role in parenthood glared out at me this morning.  When I had to go to the bathroom to do my business I did it downstairs. I kept the door open to make sure I could keep a strict eye on the bambino.  This process took less than a minute flat.

When the man did his bu'ness he went upstairs, closed the door, locked it, and stayed in there FOREVER without a care in the world.

At least one of us still maintains some sense of privacy.............right??  Bah.

Baby talk is for Babies

I had the pleasure of spending a bit of time with the kids at Rohan's Preschool on his first day, as the dressing parent.  At any given day there are two parents helping out in the classroom.  There is the duty parent that stays for the duration of the class time, helping the teacher with bathroom breaks and providing nutritional snacks for the kiddies.

The dressing parent comes in just before the kids get ready to go outside for playtime.  The role of the dressing parent is just that, to dress the kids, or help dress them, in outdoor clothing appropriate for the weather.  So I was the dressing parent that beautiful sunny first day of school.  I had to show up about 40 minutes early to help the kids get dressed.  Good god these kids are cute!

I was a bit early (no matter how hard I try not to be, I am ALWAYS early) and I was able to watch the teacher in action.  She was amazing.  The kids listened to her every time with no complaints at all.  She talked calmly, softly, slowly, enunciating every word she spoke.  Easy, small, short words and sentences.  She was so gentle with them, with just a tinge of baby talk, but not quite.

Watching and listening to her speak made me realize that I talk to Rohan (and Avery) as if they were my peers and not 30 years my junior.  I talk to them as if assuming that they do, and should, understand what I am asking them or talking to them about.  How did this happen?

I am thinking that it all stemmed from my vow to myself not to talk goopey, ridiculous baby talk with Rohan.  I did a bit, you know, excitable, wind them up talk.  But not the goo goo gaa gaa crap that oozes out of some people.  I did not want to be that mom.  And yet, there he is, listening intently to the teacher who talks to him like he is a kid.

There might be something there.  I am always feeling compelled to smarten up my talk, but now, for once, I may very well need to dumb it down a bit so that my children can finally understand what the hell I am saying.  I may even get them to listen to me..........

Another theory I tested today was the singing theory.  Instead of asking Ro-Dog to do something, I sang out the task in melodic, off key, musical style, song.  It actually worked quite often.  Strange.  And so continues My Life the musical.

Pre School? Stair climbing?? The advancement continues...

And so, my little ones are growing up.  The littlest went from Dolphin belly flop crawl to climbing stairs in one month flat.  Babam, just like that.  My bigger guy? He had his first day of Preschool this week.  It went amazingly!

I had been pumping him up for school for a good week, reminding him of the fun he had during his orientation day playing with sand etc etc.  He seemed pretty excited about it, though I was nervous that he would have a hard time letting me go. I mean this physically of course.  I was having mental images of peeling his arms from around my neck and bolting out the door (well, maybe a bit more graceful than that.......maybe).

But it was opposite town.

It took no struggle at all to get him out of the car, into the building, shoes off, indoor shoes on, pee pee, wash hands, walk into class room.  Nothing.  Not so much as a 'I don't want to' stumbled from his amazing, big boy lips.

We walked into the classroom and almost immediately he took his teacher's hand as she led him to the sticker area.  I walked over to him, shock and a little fear being secretly suppressed wayyyyy down, as I helped him get a couple of stickers out.  Then I told him that I had to go check on Avery (asleep in the car) and that I would be back in one hour and twenty minutes (yes, my 3 year old totally grasps the concept of time, doesn't yours?).  He said okay.  He gave me a kiss.  He said goodbye.  I left.  Done.  I heard no echo of screaming or pounding feet chasing after me.  I Practically burned rubber squealing out of there.

I wanted to call, I was worried that he was losing the plot, and that they were unable to console him.  I felt guilty.  I felt lighter.  Elated.  I read and drank coffee and chatted with friends at the coffee shop while Avery slept.  It was dreamy.

I got back.  He didn't even run up to me when I walked in the room.  He just sat and quietly ate his snack.  He ate his snack.  No fighting with him to eat.  Dreamy.

Apparently he did not even once ask after me once I left.  I guess we were both pretty ready for this moment of separation.  It was time.  We were just fighting all the time.  He needed to play with kids his own age, enjoy some much needed structure, much needed fun times.

Ahhhhhh  what an effin' relief!  I don't know what I was so afraid of.....................

Keep Crawling Boy

He was a master at his craft.  He reached dizzying speeds.  He was contented to just go go go hand, knee, hand, knee.  Not being able to reach anything above my knee, baby proofing a cinch, tables and couches remained cluttered with junk, not a care in the world.

And then we went to the cottage again..............

Avery met up with his cousin who is two months older and practically walking on his own. 

While there, Avery was still pretty contented to just get by on crawling.  And then we came home.  And all of the sudden, he is pulling his little body up on the furniture.  And now nothing is safe.  We have to start cleaning up this disaster that is our couches, piled high with clean and dirty laundry, toys that are too small for Avery, Colins Guitar..............crap!

Thank God for Netflix

My growing dependence on cartoons has reached epic proportions.  I remember not that long ago (pre #2) that I was smugly mentioning the lack of TV in our household, that absolute minuet amount of brain numbing, lights flashing, stupid box that Rohan had seen EVER.

Now?  With my growing anxiety over loud noises, concern for the wee one getting a kick to the head because the bigger one is bored or there is a toy theft in progress etc. etc. etc.  I have started to use it more often, and  not just for those desperate times, but for other, more mundane things.

Oh shit, I need to make dinner, throw on an episode or two of  Little Bear and it is no fuss no muss. 

Oh dear, my clothes need to go out on the line....Oh Little Bear where are you???

I would like five minutes to myself and the wee one is napping.......Netflix it is. 

What is wrong with me?  I spend a lot of time justifying it because there are no commercials, no more Tree House.  But it is still extreme amounts of stimulation without an active body.  Ro-Dog turns into a crazy person after watching a few episodes on the ole computer, he gets riled up.  And then I regret it.  And then I threaten to take it away. 

And then I forget about the crazy part because I am so very very desperate to get something, anything done around the house. 

I need some time off, mama vacation..............

Garage No Sale

It was a cold, windy grey Autumn day.  We had invited a few of Colin's work mates to join us in what we expected to be, at least a little bit, of a prosperous day.  We were prepared, we were panicked at getting ready in time for the arrival of the masses that we were anticipating.

I had made so very very many muffins.  Pumpkin muffin, banana chocolate chip muffins, tiny muffins, big muffins.  Lots of them.  I planned to get Rohan to sell them along with the yummy hot coffee I had percolating outside.  It was going to be pretty cute, I pictured it vividly. How could you resist purchasing some homemade muffins from a 3 year old??  Impossible!

This garage sale was on a bit of a whim, I was suspect of the amount of goods that we had to sell, it seemed like a very small pile to me, but Colin was convinced, and he had some friends to make up for what we lacked. It wasn't the best looking garage sale in town, but it wasn't that bad!  Or so we thought.........

The excitement began when we had our first customer right when we were setting up.  A couple who lived in our twin house just down the road.  They made a major purchase of some kids books amounting to $2. 

And there we sat, and sat and sat.  We drank coffee and ate muffins.

And repeat.

We had a little barbeque, froze our butts off, and nobody came.

As we started to exchange our goods with each other (I managed to score some very nice clothings for myself) in arrived another customer.  After purchasing a major toy and housecoat for a total of $5.25, our garage sale was done.

Successful?  As a social outing it worked out okay, as a money maker or an introduction to our neighbours?  BIG FAIL!  Oh well, I guess our junk with remain our junk for just a little bit longer!

Preschool

I have finally, after much humming and hawing, decided to sign Ro-Dog up for preschool.  This is a Cooperative preschool, so in signing him up for it, I have also signed myself up for some extra work, but also an opportunity to get more involved in the community.

But. most importantly, Ro Ro gets and chance to meet new kids and learn how to be around other adults aside from myself and his pops.  It is amazing that he has reached the tender age of 3 and has yet to spend any quantity time without either of his parents around.

Lucky guy!

This is not a common occurrence in this day and age, the days of double incomes.  This of course is not due to a lack of double income in our house hold so much as my lack of skills to acquire a real 9-5 job like other more grown up adults. Oh nights and weekends, how I will miss your freedom once again!  That is when I finally find myself an effing job.

Anywho, about the preschool.  It is two days a week for 2 and a half hour stints,  This doesn't feel like much (enough)  but it may be the perfect amount for the first attempt at severing the umbilical cord, an actual act of real separation from me.  The fact that it is so small of a time may help me with the possibility of a separation anxiety that may or may not arise.  It would be harder for longer, for both of us.

Maybe.

Maybe not. 

I am not nearly as educational, nor fun, as I had once thought I would be as a parent, so this will be a nice change for him.  Maybe he will even do some crafts for me but not with me............ooooooh my first Christmas decoration, oh god, this is going to be great!

Aside from the nice little break in the day, we also get to go back to school shopping for the very first time!!  If I was a scrap booker, I would so be scrap booking the shit out of this! 

He is ruining the play, someone stop him

I had a day that was filled with toddler style chaos. Just a regular day really.  But I was off.  I have had to survive on very little sleep (blah blah blah, the old sleep song again...........does it ever end??) while feeling under the weather with two sicky kids. What was probably just regular, excitable, 3 year old behaviour at the end of the day, finally reached a point of nearly unbearable madness.

There was a small break, not in the pandemonium that was my day, but in my attitude towards it.  I had a moment that was not unlike the play scene in the movie Parenthood.  You know the one, where the play gets ruined and the father goes from total anxiety, to eventually going with the flow, even to the point of enjoying the disarray.

For me it was the constant reprimanding for hitting, throwing, screaming etc etc etc...........I had the feeling like my chest was slowly compressing, my breath coming in small sporadic inhales, little puffs of exhausted air in my exhales.  I felt as if I couldn't breathe, as if there was in intense pressure building inside me that was threatening to explode.

This was the exact moment that the Ro-Dog decided to pick up a couple of measuring cups, bang them together as hard and loud as he could while scream singing and running around the house naked.  The naked part was the only reason (oh yes and the pure exhausted effort it would have taken to find the camera) I did not get off my lazy arse and video tape the madness that was my life at that moment.

I don't know if it was just out right giving up the fight that tampered down the potential for a clean run out of the room and into the bathroom to hide for a while, or if I finally decided to enjoy the roller coaster ride instead of pushing against it.  For whatever reason, there I sat calmly, a smirk of appreciation forming on my lips,  an excited and squirming Avery giggling on my lap.  And there we were, A-Rock and I, watching his big brother act as crazy as any 3 year old I have ever seen.

Mama instincts:1 mama: 0

So, as I had mentioned on the last post, I had spent a week at the cottage with Colin's family, sans Colin.  It was AMAZING!  It was such a nice pace of life, always with someone (adult that is) awake at the same time I was, always with someone to share the cooking/cleaning responsibility with.  Always with the extra pair of hands to help out with the kiddies.  Always with an age appropriate, temperament appropriate play mate for both of the boys (as if any right minded nine month old gives a crap about a playmate, aside from stealing their toys!)

Rohan fell asleep exhausted almost every single night, while I read stories.  And by that I mean, while I was reading the story, Rohan would conk out.  No fuss no muss.  Dreamy.  A-Rock, as if it could any better with that kid, did not even make noises of protest when I put him down for naps/to bed at night.  He literally rolled over with a sigh of relief and went straight to sleep.

Three cheers for the dreamy wonderfulness that is staying at the cottage for a week.  Sigh.

During our wonderful amazing stay, A-Rock mastered the art of crawling and pulling himself up to a sitting position.  Is there nothing that the magic of the cottage cannot do?

But, as with all things, our dreamy vacation had to come to an end, and homeward bound we were again.  After getting home, unpacking the goods, and eating our din dins, it was sleepy time for the A-Rock.  As I lay him contentfully into his crib, I couldn't help but notice that it was still at the top level, the infant level as they call it.  Hmmmm, I thought to myself, we need to lower that guy down now that he has become much more mobile.  Yes, I though, tomorrow is the day, but for now???  Sleepytown for the baby.

Not a baby.  Not a baby.  Not a baby.

I stepped out of the room, closed the door, and suffered from the niggling feeling that I should just take him out, get Colin to help me lower the crib.............THEN put him back to sleep.  I ignored that feeling and stepped my stupid ass down the stairs.

He cried.  He cried.  He HOWLED.

I decided to run up and grab him, nurse him in the bed while the crib gets lower by hubby, no sense in delaying it anymore if he wasn't going to sleep anyway.

I made it up there a hair slower than Colin.  He opens the door and there is poor, distraught, beside himself, Avery, crawling toward the door................. on the floor.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshits

A five hour stay at the hospital, comforting words and mini lecture from the nurses later, we are back home sleeping off the trauma of the day, Avery fine, except for his need to sleep on me for the night.  Mama is frazzled and feels so very very stupid for not trusting those dang instincts.  Stupid mom.  Sorry baby!

back on track

There are a few things out there that can cause a serious tightening in my chest (actually a lot of things can do that as of late, bah, motherhood) but this most recent cause made life feel so ....................boring. 

I was disconnected from the internet for two weeks......*gasp*

The first week was in a glorious setting of the mans cottage, so was self inflicted. Tback on trackhe second week, however, was pure, heart stopping, torture.  It consisted of a weeks worth of talking with the costumer service reps at Bell, not awful, but not very productive. 

Obviously, a final success, but man oh man, having no computer can certainly force one to...................bond with the family  *double gasp*.  Thank god that is over!!

crawling

As if it was actually possible to not include this tiny tid bit of information on my previous post.  I had this niggling feeling in the back of mind that I was missing some important information concerning the possible links to the incredible turn around in A-Rock's sleeping habits. 

That tiny bit if info?

He is doing what can only be described as a dolphin belly flop crawl attempt, which is now successfully propelling him forward at lightning fast (or the opposite of lightning fast) speed.  This crawling manouver is seriously a thing of beauty.

He reaches his arms up and out in front of his head, smacking his hands down on the ground a couple of times to get his bearings.  He then pushes his massively diapered bum up into the air, followed by his thighs than calves in a perfectly executed plank (if y'all know yoga) or step one in the process of a push up.  He then digs his toes into the ground, slowly scooting a few inched forward, with the shear power of his tiny little foot digits.  After he makes it that few centimetres forward he does a sort of belly flop back on the the ground, rolling his leg, than torso back down.  This is repeated until he makes it to his desired location.

Thankfully, this is a very very slow process, for now. Though, come to think of it, it has gotten quicker over the last couple of days (this all went down last Thursday), A-Rock obviously mastering this incredible awkward and adorable 'crawl'. 

And so up go the gates that are not fitting properly yet.  Frick.  You look forward to this moment their whole life, than it catches you by surprise and you suddenly realize that you house is pretty much a DEATHTRAP for mobile babies.  I must now relearn how to baby proof a house...............wish me luck..........

A good run

As Colin and I sat on the couch listening to Avery howl upstairs, he proclaimed with not even a small dose of satire
 
It was a good run. ..

You know what?  It really has been a good run.  For nearly 8 months of his life, A-Rock has made our life so very very much easier than we could have imagined by sleeping at night without much of a fuss.  He has had but a few sleep through the night nights (which is a very different term in respect to an adult version of a whole nights sleep...........very different indeed), but it has still been almost entirely painless.  Good baby Avery, good baby.

That is until recently, I would say over the last two weeks or so.  Instead of doing his usual tired grumbling rumblings before falling contentedly off to dream land, he wails as if crab like pincers are pinching him over and over again on his tender little tootsies.  WAAAAAAAAAAAA.  And though it is sad, and makes for a much more labour intensive put down (nurse, nurse, nurse, rock. rock, rock, pray, pray, pray).  We still feel extremely lucky to have had those precious, easy months in our first year.

We don't blame him, nor do we curse, or swear, or shake our fists at the ceiling muttering, why me god, why me, like we may have on the odd occasion (very rarely, really......no, really) with R0-Dog as a young pup.  We are a bit more patient and understanding this time around.  We see those two top teeth popping out (upping the count to 4),we can not help but notice that his nose has been releasing a clear and constant stream of slimy snot, making it hard for him to breathe, especially at night. We understand.  It's tough.

Maybe he is just feeling a bit more needy these days.  Maybe we threw him off schedule by going to the cottage last month, having him stay out late at night, so desperately tired that he had no choice but to fall asleep on his Nana...Twice... Only to force this on him again next weekend.  What can you do?  Not live?  Have no fun? 

Anywho, he is not that easy to put to sleep these days, but, regardless of this indiscretion,  we love him still..........

Powerless.........

There are so many positive aspects, positive outcomes, to having your power out for four days.
  Here are just a few of joyous things that come from no power (not to forget of course that with no power = no phone AND no water)

1) You get to enjoy the magic of camping, but in a house, and with a toilet.  This toilet, of course, will remind one of an outhouse REAL quick like.  (see Colin gagging and nearly vomiting when opening up the lid after only 2 short days of deposits).

2) You do not need to do dishes for several days.

3) You do not need to do laundry for a couple of days.....in fact.....

4) Cleaning of any kind is thrown to the back burner as quick as sex after two kids (boooyaa)

5) You get a chance to start a fresh with new and exciting foods to fill up your now empty and foul smelling refrigerator.

6) You have a fabulous reason to leave the house every morning.................to eat.

7) You can justify all the crap foods that you have been surviving off of for a week, such as cookies, chips, peanut butter and jelly sandwiche,s pasta and sauce made in one pot cooked on the single burner butane jobby that is meant for camping....

8) You aren't expected to make dinner every night, cuz there ain't nothing to make and no ways to make it!

9)  You finally get your sorry ass off of the computer and spend some quality time with (yelling at) your kids.

10)  You get to enjoy a refreshing bath in the river in front of a bunch of drunk teenagers.

11) You get to bond with your significant other in your stinky, sweltering hot, extremely messy, pitch black house.  Or read by candle light, than pass out at ridiculously early hours of the evening, whatever floats your boat.

Stuff that I missed the most during our powerless days?  Coffee in the morning.  Once the butane burner was found I was pretty much good to go!  Oh, well, I guess flushing the toilet was up there (barf). I can live without a shower as long as I have a body of water to swim in......

Overall?  We survived four days with no power, and it wasn't too bad. 

a few new book idea's

So I know a few post of past I had mentioned the glorious and, in my opinion, GENIUS, book called Go The Fuck To Sleep.  Well, I have been thinking quite a bit about this book throughout my days of daily motherhood torture, and I have come up with a few more books that I would love to see on the bookshelves.

Yes my love, I do see that super fun toy over there.  It does look like a great toy in which to play.  But now is not the time to carouse my dear, no time in which to squeal. So please, if you may, drop that toy, come to the table and Eat your f$%#ing meal!

Look at the sun so bright in the sky, the grass so green down below. The rocks are shining alight on the ground with a strange and sparkly glow.  So many thing to see on the way, so very much to explore.  I can see that you are a bit distracted my little one, by all that nature brings near and far, but mama is late for her appointment now, so please, for the love of god, Get in The F*&# in the Car.

 I can see you wriggle to the left handsome man, I can see you wriggling to the right.  You can hop up and down on one foot my dear, than switch that hopping to the other.  You are having too much fun, I can see that cutie pie, you just don't want to leave. Your friends are all here, you are having a splendid time, so let's not make this into certain wars.  Please my child, I beg of you please Don't Pee in your F%&$ing Drawers!
 
 And so very very many more could be out there.  A whole library of parenthood frustration venting........It would be glorious.  We could all be rich, RICH I say!  Man, why didn't I think of writing that book?  Bah.

The defication diaries

Consider this your warning - This story is not for the faint of heart..........I can barely gag my way through telling it!

This morning started off innocently enough, Ro-Dog was the first to wake me up, drenched from head to foot in his morning urine.  You see, it is still a fifty-fifty chance of peeing in the bed.  Every day is a new and exciting gamble, do I need to wash yet another set of urine soaked sheets and pajama's?  Will I catch him in time? I am pretty much living life on the edge every night that I, yet again, choose to go diaper free......but I degress, this is not, as you can see from the title above, the pee pee diaries.

SO anywho, after feeding my 3 year old his cereal, spoon full by glorious too old to be spoon fed spoonful, our lovely little bambino made his adorable cooing sounds indicating his awakening.  After removing his diaper, I decided to leaving him to air out on the carpet while I got his breakfast ready (Plain yogurt, ground flax seed and mushed banana, what a lucky little ducky he is!).  He was so contented over there, entertaining himself, that I decided to take the opportunity to put away the dishes.  Oh why oh why did I not take the time to just pop my head a little bit closer to him to see why on earth he was so...........quiet and happy.......

Dishes happily stacked in their respective cupboards, dirty ones ready for a hearty cleaning in the dishwasher, I stroll into the living room to see what was happening.  I was not surprised to see that the wee one had pooped on the carpet, he does that at times, seriously, he poops A LOT during the day. Nudidty is a risk I go into with my eyes open.  However, this is the first time that he had so much time in between him pooping and me catching it.  Yes, this is going exactly where you think it is. He found said poop.  It's totally solid, so there is no serious mush action, or wouldn't have been had he not rolled a.round in it, picked it up, squished it between his fingers, and (please let this not have happened) perhaps taste tested...............oh god, say it ain't so.  I don't have any solid proof of the consumption, so I will happily state that none if it went down the
gullet..........really.

So after that adventure, I cleaned and sterilized and readied him for his real breakfast.  I sat him down in his super, crazy, awesome, wooden high chair that I bought him at a garage sale, and got ready to spoon in the goods.  That is, until I took a closer look at the kitchen table, you know the one that we eat at almost every single meal.  Poop.  Little tiny itty bitty mouse poops.  On my table.  Kitchen table.  The one we eat at.

All of the sudden everywhere I looked there were little defiant rodent scatters.

I suddenly couldn't put Avery down ANYWHERE.  As I ponder the arduous task of attempting to scour the whole first level of the house while at the same time trying to prevent the kiddies from touching anything, I had a little cry.  It was a bit overwhelming and depressing.  So, we left.  I packed those kiddies up and we took a trip to the hardware store to pick up a live mouse trap, than to the coffee shop for some second breakfast.

My thought process for this seeming escapist attitude was, if I could just get Avery to sleep on the way  home(he actually fell asleep on me at the coffee shop.......good baby) than I would only have to deal with dissuading Ro-Ro from touching stuff.  It worked out pretty good, he slept, and the toddler even helped vacuum a bit, good boy!

It was a very tough job, but gosh darn, this place has never been so clean!  Though of course I spent a good portion of the day in a cloud of no patience and a total lack of attention on the kids.  But I saved them.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't want to claim any status of heroism for single handedly taking all of our shit to the trash today (okay, I do a little), but, without sounding too egotistical about the situation, a big fat gold star could really go a long way!

Go the Fuck to sleep

I know I know, everybody has heard about this magical story that fully expresses the total frustration that every parent has to endure in their lifetime.  For some, the ridiculousness that can be involved in putting their child to sleep can create a fit of anxiety every single night, heart pounding, palms sweating, spying the time on the clock with a sense of dread.  Bed time.  My chest is constricting just thinking about it. 

But to hear Samuel L Jackson narrate this story, well it is like nothing you have heard before.  The person that wrote this story is an absolute genius!

Go the FUCK to Sleep indeed! 

A Real Man

Rohan has been expressing his independence and individuality quite a bit lately.  Most of all, R-dog has been showing off his love of himself.  Over the last couple of days he has exhibited his narcissism to extremes only a young lad of 3 can truly explore.

One example of his egocentricity was an incident yesterday evening.  He discovered an orange ribbon on the floor of my bedroom (I don't pick shit up for days, whatever..).  As he wrapped the ribbon around his shirtless torso he exclaimed with the force of certainty I am a real man.  While flexing his pythons in a manner suited for only the most muscular of body builders, he continued to assert that his orange ribbon combined with his blatant brawn created a real and true man.  Where in the hell do they get this stuff?

Shortly before this demonstration of pure testosterone, he showed us how much he just couldn't get enough of himself by eating his own boogies.  A love so strong that he could not imagine wasting any tiny bit of his manly man self!

A-Rock showed us how macho he was by picking up an earwig off the floor (dead or alive, we will never know) and munching on it, only to spit the partially consumed and tragically deceased carcass onto the carpet.  We plan to sign him up for Fear Factor baby pretty soon!

Dear boobies part deux

Goodness me, how could I possibly have sent an apologetic booby letter without an honorary mention to the excruciation that is the process of expressing milk.  The manual and electric pumps that, after a short while of constant pumping, form your nipples into something akin to cow udders the length of your baby finger.  The hands only manual expression that should be considered a form of torture.  The sad and disheartening final product after said painful extraction of milk, just one ounce of liquid gold.  Two red and throbbing breast, 15-20 minutes of anguish for 1 measly ounce................sob.

Again my boobies, I am so very very sorry!

Dear Boobies

Dear boobies,

You started off so small and perky and delighted to be alive.  With much resistance you were forced into restricted, itchy cloths, hidden behind uncertainty and embarrassment.
As you grew bigger and heavier you were partially exposed to the world.  Pride and uncertainty fighting for the limelight over and over again.
You grew, as did the interest from outsiders.  You were tentatively touched in the beginning, than tugged, tweaked, sucked and flicked at a moments notice.  Never pain, always pleasure.  Especially during the freedom years when the bra was burned and the shirts were extra soft and silky.
Than the first stages of pregnancy created a tenderness so painful that it had never even been experienced during the visits of Aunt Flow.  And so started the never ending stage of HANDS OFF.
Pregnancy complete, baby arrives, the torture truly begins. You grow to extremes unchartered.  Your consistency changes from being kind of malleable to boulders, big, hard, untouchable boulders.
And then you are introduced to the new boob owners.  They are cute but MEAN.  They have no qualms about pulling, scratching, yanking, nibbling, vacuum suctioning and just being outright inappropriate with their handling of you, dear boobs.  And this new guy in town?  Well, since he has produced his first tooth, he is getting closer and closer to being overthrown. With every clamping, there is an absolute fear that parts of you will be missing after each forced extraction.
So to you, boobies, my sincerest apologies for the years of abuse, for the cruel acts of the children and for the unnatural sag created by age.   I am so very very sorry.  May you survive the A-Rock, living to see another day!

Advanced kiddlets

Our household has been jam packed with new and amazing developmental advancements this week!  It has been a week filled with amazement, awe......Okay, it has been pretty exciting for me anyway, and maybe a bit for the kids.  I think even the old man cracked smile of carefully masked appreciation.

For Rohan, the excitement brought on animated yowling of joy from his mama.  I was outside filling up the ole car tire (as I do every morning, really must get the bloody thing plugged one of these days!) and checking out the beauty that is my mini garden of vegetable Eden. Ro-Dog was inside hiding from the swarms of 'skitos.  When I entered the house The R-Dog informed me that he had urinated. As I attempted to partially hide my irritation at having to deal with yet another pair of pee pee pants to clean, I went on the hunt for the puddle of yurn on the floor.  I was than lovingly guided to the potty and shown it rimming with wee wee.  Without any demanding or coaxing or convincing from me, he took it upon himself to just walk into the bathroom, pull down his tiny, adorable, Spiderman boy undies, and peed.  A first, of hopefully many many moments of independence.   Pardon me while I weep.

For the A-Rock, the advancements just kept on rolling in.  In the short span of one week our littlest started sitting up on his accord, popped out his first tooth, started eating some finger foods (grapes and blueberries) and continues on his mission to crawl.  He has also gone through some crazy growth spurt, suddenly busting out of his 3-6 month clothing, cruising past the 6 months and now fitting comfortable in his 12 monthers.  Wowza!  We are luckily stocked up in the 12 month clothing.

So sleeping has been......................a little out of whack let's say.   A lot more co-sleeping happening, myself wedged in between  two pairs of stinky boy feet.  But I love it!  I love watching my little boys grow up.  Kind of awesome..........

daddy does that sometimes

There are many many amazing things that suddenly occur when your child starts talking to you in full, comprehensive sentences. The first things is obvious, the fact that your once drooling, cooing, infant is now a toddler talking about the size of the mole on your chest, amazing (ish)!  Actually he has started calling my moles nipples, in fact a lot of things are now called nipple........but whatever!

We have actual, real, adult conversations now.  He explains situations to me, or tell me stories, or even offers me up imaginative scenarios.  He is a rockstar at imaginative play..  What I have found myself doing during our conversations these days is getting information out of him. 

I have been enjoying interactive, imaginative play, but with a purpose.  Pure curiosity.  I want to know if any part of our daily lives gets played out.  Any dirt.  You know, those days that you would sooner forget than to watch your young toddler play it on the living room carpet with his dinosaurs.  So far so good. Nothing significant, or real for that matter, totally imaginative play.

Except, his absolutely hilarious and constant statement of daddy does that sometimes.  He farts and calls it an air toot daddy says that sometimes.  He starts trying to play wipe out with me by running and smashing into me from across the room daddy let me watch that sometimes.  I can, without any coaxing, get all the dirt on what happens with daddy when I am not around..............YES!!  I love it!  Such a gossip queen.  Daddy is in TROUBLE!

i'll pump you up

I have been invited to shin dig that has been an annual event for the people of our wee village.  It is happening in a couple of weeks.  I am crapping my pants.  This super special event is for girls only, for the first time, no boys or men allowed.  Sounds great, sounds easy.  There is more.  It's a camp out.  Over night.  All night.  No boys.

No sweat right?  Well.........I have actually never been away from home over night since we have had a home.  I went out, over a weekend to visit a friend once while we lived in Victoria.  However, this was not sans child........does it count?  Nope, it really doesn't.

In the last 3 years of having Rohan and Avery, I have not spent one night away from either of them.  Do you know what that sounds like in my head?  Dedicated!  No, actually, kind of sad.  So now I am starting to pump like a mad woman.  In fact I did some pumping while watching the final Stanley cup game............didn't even get an ounce, is that bad luck?  And now I have my fingers and toes crossed that he will start drinking from the bottle and not just chewing and crying. 

It may take a  lot of psyching myself up to leave my little and big men (or not, I may just end up escaping with a spring in my step...)  I am even nervous about having a few drinks, like more than two.  Why I haven't had more than two consecutive alcoholic beverages since.............hmmmm since taking on the daunting task of making another baby.  That is an on going event that needs a whole lot of wine, that's fo sho! 

So here we go, a full night off from the boys, surrounded by girls, surrounded by estrogen, surrounded by tents, a lake, booze and good freaking times.  Oh god, I can't breathe........................

hummus stinks!

I have made some not so pleasant discoveries in my food introduction project with Avery.  My number 25 food, yogurt, backs the poor lad up.  When once he was leaving me little presents in his diaper up to 5 times a day, he is now down to one if I am lucky (depending, of course, on what you consider to be lucky.......poop happens to be a HUGE gold star in my life right now..........*sob* ).

I also have a dilemma with my number 26 food.  Aside from producing some of the most nostril hair burning smell from Avery's diaper thus far that is!  This food product is actually an accumulation of several food products.  Hummus..  Now do I just count it as one, or do I add them all up as individual ingredients?  Considering my numbers are pretty low right now, I may do a bit of a cheap and offer a few of them up with their own number.

26. Chickpeas
 27.  Tahini
28. Lemon
28. garlic
I am tempted with the olive oil, but I will omit it in order to not seem too petty! 
29. Cucumber  this was not actually in the hummus, and in no way was associated with the hummus, just an extra food.
Also 30. Barley

But mostly, Yams and banana's are what his diet consists of.  Banana's are just too bloody easy for me not to feed it to him everyday.  I can bring a banana anywhere, squish little pieces with my fingers and tada, meal.  With the astonishing amount of crap that I need to take with me everywhere I go, it is nice to only have to bring a banana for lunch!

too clever for a 3 year old

A while back I mentioned my true initiation into parenthood, the first declaration of love from my amazing little toddler.  Swoon.  You can not beat that sound, the sound of adoration from your little man.  This became a constant in our daily conversations, completely not coaxed by me.  We would be innocently going for a walk down the street and out would come 'Me love you, and daddy and Avery'.  Damn he wins cutest kid award for sure.

Well, things have changed a little bit in this happy little household of ours.  It came out of the blue, I don't even know if we were all around for this monumental and totally upsetting moment.  Colin could have been at work, or elsewhere, but I am pretty sure he wasn't around to hear the first, of many, sad mutterings of his wee man.

"Me no love daddy anymore'

That is the sound of my and Colin's heart breaking up into little pieces.   It was sad, but we got through it.  I even may have mentioned it to a few friends over coffee.  Poor Colin, Rohan has never talked about any decrease in affection toward his mother, you know the hand that feeds him.  Smart kid.  That is, until tonight.

I was peacefully reading in the bath, waiting for Rohan to come and join me, when I heard 'Me no love mama, me love you'.  This was said to dear ole dad.

Now, I may have been completely deceived in this concept, but I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to hear those words until the infamous teenage angst years.  And, I was certain, that it was something that would not often be spoken against me, his mother. He is my little boy after all, he is supposed to love me unconditionally..............forever.

But here we are, dealing with our crafty son pitting his parents against each other, an incredibly amusing issue we didn't realize was in the capacity of a child at the tender age of 3.  Very clever little man, very clever indeed. Too clever in fact.

Hello Ladies!

Well my friends, it finally happened, and I am exhausted.  In the past, pre baby #2, I assumed this was an impossibility, I just never thought I could ever get so lucky so early in the game.  It was so easy, so so simple.  Too simple.  I am going to want more and more, on a more and more regular basis.  Such an extravagance, such a novelty.

That's right, ladies night, and it was glorious.  In fact, I was extremely, embarrassingly, excited about it.  So excited that as I was walking toward the restaurant the excitement started to bubble over, before I had a chance to contain it, I busted a giggling happy dance, with a super sexy strut (or so I thought!).  Apparently I don't get out much.

Don't get me wrong, this wasn't a piss up, party till you dance topless on the tables (everyone does that right?).  It was just the ladies going out for a nice classy dinner at some nice classy digs.  If anyone has had Noodle Box, it is like that, but eat in, and not in a box! Yum effin Yum.

Do you want to know what a pile of new moms (and one seasoned professional) sit around and talk about?  I bet you do (not) care!  Sleep (lessness) vomit (baby and adult), and poop.  Was there more in the conversation?  Maybe, but these three subjects ALWAYS reign supreme with moms.  ALWAYS.  The poor, romantic, couple behind us.  Nobody really needs to hear this shit, but we just cannot help ourselves.

Despite the fact that I was forced awake several times that night, and permanently at 4am, I had a great time.  Despite the fact that I manage to leave the house twice a week for a couple of hours each, this was so so much different.  It was out. It was great.  It will most definitely happen again!

Beach day, beach day....

Our first adventure at the beach this year.  It certainly offers a whole different dynamic when you have two little 'uns to watch over...near water......near edible sand........near goose poop.   On the plus side, this year Rohan LOVED being in the water (as opposed to years past when he preferred sitting on the beach and digging in the sand) as did Avery!  Yay beach bum babies, it is going to be a super swell summer me thinks!!

Bite me

Avery and I are sat on the couch, curled in the far corner, staring lovingly into each others eyes.  He suckles contently on my teat, obtaining the liquid gold that sustained him in his infancy, soothes him, fills him, makes him sleepy, happy and chunky.  This is the stuff that he lives for. 

We sit there, contently on the couch, bonding over our ever so uncommon one on one time.  His eyes squint a bit in a grin, his gums clamp down and he pulls with everything his little jaws have.  Only after a high pitched screech sprays out of my mouth does he finally release his grip, staring right in my eye, offering a big, slobbery, cheeky grin.

He looks at my face, grin still enveloping his face, he looks over at my sore and tender nipple, than ever so gentle flicks it with a finger.  Giggles escaping his gape mouth as he grabs as much breast as he can fit in his tiny fist, pulling with all his might until it finally reaches it ultimate destination, his wide open mouth.

Pure delight is spread across his face.  Pure dread forms around mine.  Above act is repeated. Then repeated again.  He laughs (maniacally I can only assume).  I tuck my throbbing mammary back into its padded hammock, swearing to my self that these antics will have to end once he starts sprouting teeth. 

I may be nipple less by the end of this one.......

Beet that

Some more newbies that my little monkey has tried.  Man is he a crazy good eater, like a little bird, opening up his little beak..........C-U-T-I-E-- M-C-T-T-O-O-T-I-E

19. Apricot
20. Asparagus
21. Beets
22. broccoli
23. Quinoa
24. Raisins

The only food he has so far outright objected to has been avocado.  I mean, I fed the kid such bitter veggies as swiss chard and kale, and it is the super yummy smooth avocado that he rejects.  strange indeed. 

There are also a few things I learned about feeding a baby beets.  There is a good chance they will not like them at first (or ever for that matter). Beets doesn't totally dye his face, but he does seem a bit more red cheeked and jolly these days!  Also, DO NOT PANIC, that is beets in his diaper, he is not bleeding out of his bum.  That one can stop a heart beet...

green eyed monster

I was out walking with the little 'uns yesterday, beautiful, sunny, happy Monday stroll through the village.  All was going well (ish) when I spotted up in the distance two 20 something ladies on the opposite side of the road.  That was when I smashed headlong into the green eyed monster. Kabam.

What was it about those lovely ladies that caused such a stir in me?  Was it those lovely little sundresses purchased from anywhere but the Rupert Centre or Giant Tiger?  Was it the fact that their was no obvious signs of vomit, poop, snot, pureed baby food, or not so pureed toddler food on their super attractive outfits?


Perhaps this collision with aqua had more to do with the bodies barely hidden underneath these flower patterned dresses for the sun?  These bodies that have no visible indications of premature sagging, stretching, scaring, tearing, or any unsightly lumps nor bumps where they do not belong?

Could it possibly have been the careless, carefree way they were sauntering through the streets with a coffee in hand?  Midday?  Not having to worry about the affect the caffeine may have on their precious sleep?  Or how that caffeinated beverage may cause their infant child to become fussy, irritable and *gasp* sleepless through the night?

All of these things seem like they all could have some great potential to emerald it up for me.  Me who was dragging my feet.  Me who was constantly keeping a vigilant eye on the straying toddler.  Me who was probably adorned in yoga pants and a tank top, which, if it was even a might bit stylish,  was hidden underneath all the extra fluid that was pouring out of the infant son, who was strapped to me in an Ergo.  My envy did not, however, lay in any these things.

As I walked down the street with my toddler son running up ahead of me, I was bogged down with a ridiculous amount of stuff, such as, infant son strapped to the front of me.  I was also donning a  largeish cooler bag filled with all the things that a toddler and infant may need such as spare diapers, pants, sleeper, food, liquid, wipes, cloths, spoons, bibs, sunscreen, hats,  etc etc...  To add to the pile of crap I was towing with me, the toddlers tricycle that he no longer wanted to ride.


I dragged my harried self across the parking lot with such bone crushing invidiousness because of their purses..



I have never been a big purse person, but , oh my god, those purses were soooooooo small and light and and and practical. I envied those small leather carriers like nothing I have felt before. I stood there, drool dripping out of my (and both childrens) mouth, back hunching over like Quasimodo.......oh to be able to carry so little.  I miss my back, it used to work so well. ..........

Tentatively Optimistic

Due to an accidental act of non diapering the night before, that ended, luckily for Colin, in a lack of moisturizing of mama's sheets, we made a non accidental attempt at it again last night.  I had no intention of even tempting this concept for at least another 15 years, maybe 20.

Daytime toilet training was (is) tough enough, I was willing to go to the great lengths of stocking up on adult sized diaper for when my boys were much, much older, just to avoid night time toilet training them.  I, for the very first time in Rohan's life, was in no rush to get to the next developmental stage in his life.

Just imagining the piles and piles of laundry, the sleepless nights, the tears, the disappointment.....nope, not for me. But, alas, we tried it out again last night and, to our absolute surprise and delight, another dry bed.  I am skeptical, however.  I know that at times babies can trick you into thinking you may get a full nights sleep by not waking up a couple of nights in a row, than BAM, back to waking up every two hours.  This could be a toilet training trick.  I am getting all nice and comfortable, not buying anymore pulls ups, than BAM, hello regression, hello urine soaked dreams.

I am nervous and tentatively optimistic.  Imagine how much mother nature would love one less diaper a night..........

losing my touch

I am completely losing my touch, or something.........  This is the third night that I have put Avery down to sleep and he has ended up in hysterics.  Crying.  He never cries, fusses yes, but out right crying?? Oh no, not my angel baby.  I am so used to him doing most of the going to sleep part by himself, that I can offer only the smallest of solace. 

I am, as I have mentioned before, at a bit of loss.  I pat his diaper, I shush, I sing, I used every ounce of self control that I can muster not to pick him up.  I am not heartless, I just don't want him to start to depend on me to fall asleep now, after all this time.  If it had been this way the whole time, fine, I would suck it up and make it so.  But it has been a dream so far, so I don't want to change things.

I have caved, I have picked him up, I have nursed him to sleep, cuddled, loved.  It didn't help.  Damn.  What is going on?  Teeth?  Is he going to crawl soon?  He is backing up and that is the stepping stone usually.  Whatever it is, it is giving me some night time anxiety that I have not had since the infancy of Ro-Dog.    Bah, those unpredictable babies!

Parenting according to your kiddlets

After having a lovely dinner with my brother and his family, I had a parenting epiphany.  I often get mocked by my brother for being too vigilant with Rohan (where as he offers more freedom to his child). I normally just laugh it off or change the subject (what is your opinion about so and so political move....), but this time it made me take a closer look at my parenting methods.

It is true, I can be vigilant with Rohan on certain occasions. This is more often than some parents for sure, though less often then others.  But why do I find that I am always on the watch?  Well, he gets bullied a lot from his peers.  I don't like watching my child get hurt, so I step in, when he is unable, or doesn't know how, to make that other child back off.  He is starting to hold his own a bit more, which is great (ish) but he is super sensitive.  Not hyper sensitive-cannot handle the feel of certain materials on his skin-must remove tags-sock line in the wrong spot makes him crazy-sensitive.  But, he gets upset easily, and takes things personally.

He isn't like a lot of boys his age.  He is a boy, mind you.  He can be rough and tumble, and he definitely uses his hands more, when he should be using his words, but he isn't all over the place.  An awesome example of this was the other day at a playgroup.  A huge garbage truck came pulling up to the curb and all the other boys ran up as close as they could to the truck, screaming and yelling and getting super excited, where as Rohan backed off and covered his ears with his hands. He doesn't like super loud noises, they scare him.

It can take Ro-Dog a long time to get comfortable in a new place, situation or with new people.  I was taking him to a music class for a while and it took him a month or more to finally release his death grip on my legs and at least as much more to finally feel comfortable enough to participate.  

If he cuts himself, he gets completely FREAKED out.  For weeks he will not be able to use that hand/foot/finger/knee.  He absolutely can't, he has a cut.  So I spoon feed him or carry him around for that time period.  Not without encouraging him to try to use the wounded area, but definitely with a sense of non-judgement.  It can be extremely frustrating, but the look on his face once the cut has disappeared is priceless, and totally worth it.

None of these things are a direct reflection of me and my parenting. I have not spent the last three years attempting to mold my child into the person I wanted him to be, trust me, he came to me already molded.  Although, sometimes, life feels like it is a bit more high maintenance, that is okay.  I love all of his quirks and individualism and independence from the crowd, because of these things.  He is Rohan.  This is who he is.  And who that is is AWESOME.

I am not here to change his behaviour, I am just here to watch his back, make sure that he isn't being treated in way that makes him feel like he is less amazing, and to offer him a safe and secure place to feel confident and comfortable in.  This place may be home, but it may also just be in my arms and away from whatever negative situation caused him to climb into them in he first place.

I was not a parent before I had this little guy, so I am parenting according to his needs, not my needs, and certainly not anyone else.  He may not be like your child, and my parenting may be very different from yours. I cuddle and coddle and love my child, not to turn him into a certain type of person, but because these are things that he needs in order to gain the confidence to move forward to his next great adventure ........of peacefully putting a difficult puzzle together, or hiding in a secret cave made of blankets with his friends. Just a quick hug to make sure I am there, and than back to his friends, and his super special cave.

Goodnight lads

While Colin was out gallivanting around town last night with his man friends, I was getting a taste of what life would be like if Avery were not consistently a superstar baby.......it ain't pretty.  For the first time in a long time Avery was having a tough night falling asleep.  On a normal night, that would have been fine (actually it just wouldn't have happened, he is that much of a superstar), I would be upstairs rubbing his belly, tapping his diaper, shushing it up, while Colin put Rohan to sleep.  It is very different when it is just mama.

Rohan needed to be there the whole time, demanded to be there in fact, with threat of screams and fits. I hardly had a choice.  So I had two bambino's to shush that night.  Eventually Avery, me and Rohan ended up reading stories in Rohan's room.  Rohan ever so gently rubbing Avery's back, telling him it's okay................plop goes my whole being turning in to a puddle of goo for these, the sweetest of non sleepers in all of the lands.

Avery has a hard time being around Rohan and not loving all over him with his goopy saliva filled face/hands/mouth, so sleep was far from imminent during this story time adventure.  Another transfer to mama's room, another sleep attempt....failed.  Damn.  And so the three of us in my bed, I nurse Avery with fingers and toes crossed that he will fall asleep.  Laying beside his super cool, most favourite person in the world (ro-dog and not myself of course) meant it was most definitely not happening.

One last try in the crib.  I stand there rubbing his belly with abated breath, occasional giving Rohan the look that says keep your arms and legs inside the bed at all times.  Sleep happened. Slowly, ever so slowly, Avery finally gave up the good fight, with occasional  gasping sobs and the eyes stayed closed.  I dared not breath a sigh of relief as I had yet another little monkey to put to bed.

To avoid any possible sudden movements, I kept him in my bed (to be honest, I prefer them as close to me as possible at night, when I am alone. I can do some serious sketching of myself out when alone in the house) and lay down with him.  With nearly 2 hours of struggle, everyone (myself included) was fast asleep.  This deserved a nice long sleep in for sure.................or up at 5am.  So. Very. Tired.

It sounds like I just do not have my s-h-i-t  together.  But Avery really is just that super amazing.  I normally give him a kiss and flop him into his crib, my job done.  He then proceeds to whimper a bit, roll back and forth, chew on his blanket, pull it over his head, scratch at the crib slats, sleep.  I have watched this process on many occasions, just to see him in action.  It is a beautiful thing.  So needless to say I forgot how to put a baby to sleep by actually working for it.  I was at a loss.  I just have it way too easy.

100 by 1

I have an ultimate goal of introducing Avery to one hundred foods before he reaches his first birthday.  At the tender age of 7 months, with have only starting his solid foods at 5 and a half months he has so far tried 17 different kinds of  foods.  This is, keeping in mind, going to be a meat free endeavor. I guess this means I am going to have to cut down on the lazy defrost ice cubes of carrot days!  Here we go........

	1. apple
	2. avocado
	3. banana
	4. Butternut squash
	5. cantelope
	6. Green beans
	7. homemade organic long grain rice
	8. kale
	9. mango puree
	10. pear
	11. plain oatmeal
	12. pureed baby carrots
	13. pureed baby spinach
	14. red swiss chard
	15. sweet potato
	16. watermelon
	17. yam

.
Least favourite: green beans  Most favourite: Mango..................oh how he loves the mango!

F U

A glimpse into the teenage years

Sometimes I let Rohan try his hand at typing on the ole wordpad on the computer.  He generally just presses random buttons...............but this time he had ulterior motives.  And so I get a small but painful glimpse into  the angst of his future teenage years........dear lord, I am in for it!