Shaun's reading has just taken off recently. I keep saying to Craig that Shaun's seems to have just picked up reading because every night, it seems, he's able to read more difficult words. The strategies he's learning in school are really working.
Shaun was telling me tonight after dinner that the letter they were working on in class last week was the letter M; and the Jolly Phonics action to go with it is rubbing your hand on your tummy and saying, "mmmmmm," like you're eating something yummy. His teacher asks the children to give her a word that starts with the letter M. Shaun is telling me that most of his classmates are saying words like Mackenzie (a girl in his class) or Mom. He puts up his hand and when Mrs. McNaughton calls his name, he says MUCUS. MUCUS! Of all the things that start with the letter M, he had to say MUCUS?? I howled with laughter when he told me that because it's just so typical of Shaun; smart-ass. He tells me that he had to think of something to liven everybody up because the Jolly Phonics is pretty boring since he already knows all his letters. Somehow I don't think MUCUS is a word that his classmates are familiar with; especially if they're still learning the sound that M makes.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Cheese
Two Months Ago
Me: "Kyle, this is cheese. Say, cheese. You're having cheese for snack today. Yummy! Cheese. Ch-eese. Ch, Ch, Ch. Like choo-choo!"
Kyle: "Mah! Mamamamama. Mah!"
One Month Ago
Me: "Kyle, you're eating some cheese. Say, cheese."
Kyle: "Mah! Dah Bah. Mah!"
One Week Ago
Me: "Kyle, do you want some cheese?"
Kyle: nods
Me: "Say, cheese please."
Kyle: nods
Today
Me: "Kyle, do you want some snack?"
Kyle: "Cheese."
Me: "Do you want some cheese for snack?"
Kyle: nods, "Cheese."
I'll be the first to admit that life is so much easier with a child who can communicate what they need and want. IT basically eliminates the need for tears of frustration. But I'm crying tears of sorrow. Kyle's growing up way too quick for me.
Me: "Kyle, this is cheese. Say, cheese. You're having cheese for snack today. Yummy! Cheese. Ch-eese. Ch, Ch, Ch. Like choo-choo!"
Kyle: "Mah! Mamamamama. Mah!"
One Month Ago
Me: "Kyle, you're eating some cheese. Say, cheese."
Kyle: "Mah! Dah Bah. Mah!"
One Week Ago
Me: "Kyle, do you want some cheese?"
Kyle: nods
Me: "Say, cheese please."
Kyle: nods
Today
Me: "Kyle, do you want some snack?"
Kyle: "Cheese."
Me: "Do you want some cheese for snack?"
Kyle: nods, "Cheese."
I'll be the first to admit that life is so much easier with a child who can communicate what they need and want. IT basically eliminates the need for tears of frustration. But I'm crying tears of sorrow. Kyle's growing up way too quick for me.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Little Number Three is One
Kyle. Chubbers. One year ago I met you for the first time. I had spent the previous 40 weeks plus 6 days agonizing over your arrival. I was trying my best to remember every last kick and nuzzle from you before I had to share you with everyone else.
I diligently folded and re-folded your newborn clothes and reviewed the home birth list once a day, double and triple and quadruple checking to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Your brothers talked to you whenever I was sitting quietly. They'd chatter about things they wanted to do with you, talk about the cats and your grandparents, and ask you if you were ready to come out yet.
When that day came, and we all met you for the first time, it was as if you'd always been here. I felt an overwhelming surge of love. You sure were in a hurry once we had all decided labor was stalled. Pooja had broken my water at home hours earlier and I was feeling like labor would never get going. Tub, shower, sitting backwards on the toilet, squatting, walking, stairs, bouncing on the trampoline (really!); nothing seemed to be working. I made the decision around 5pm that we were heading to the hospital. I was tired of waiting and was desperate to meet you.
Melissa drove me and you through the busy rush-hour streets while Craig followed behind in the van and Gramma and Grampa stayed with your brothers. She casually chatted about her first apartment and the park where she found a stray kitten while I desperately wished I had stayed at home for only a few minutes longer; the contractions were coming fast and furiously. I was in agony and wasn't sure we were going to make it.
Finally at the hospital, I paused and braced myself on the guardrail outside the main entrance for another strong contraction. With each contraction I could feel you creeping deeper into my pelvis. I knew you'd be here soon. I held it together in the elevator and groaned as another began when the doors opened. Pooja was already in a room, ready and waiting for me to walk in. It was only minutes after I arrived that I couldn't remain standing for my contractions anymore. Pooja kept wanting to get my blood pressure but I kept getting contractions: one after another. I lay on my left side focusing on relaxing during the intense pulling and tightening, and then would take a moment in between to have Melissa post on Facebook that you were coming or to send someone to find Craig (who hadn't arrived yet!).
My body was starting to take over. I needed to relax. I knew the only way you'd come quicker was if I breathed deeply and slowly and relaxed every part of my body. Eyes, mouth, jaw... Craig flew into the room in a flurry of excitement and apologies of how full the parking garage was and all of a sudden, there you were. Your head was born into my mesh underwear. I was still telling myself to relax as my body was introducing you to your new world. Pooja scrambled and frantically ripped the underwear off me as I yelled that you were coming. Moments later I was able to reach under your arms and pull you onto my chest and whisper in your ear, "Nice to meet you, Kyle." I'll never, ever forget that first moment. You barely cried while I sobbed. A perfect, incredible boy. Little number three.
Those first few days are still quite a blur. We went home hours after your birth and introduced you to anxious grandparents and your big brothers. You slept that first night nuzzled next to me and my breast. You figured out how to nurse right away and ate great. My milk came in quickly and you continued to present wet and dirty diapers. Your eating and dirtying wasn't enough, though, and at 5 days old you were admitted to the hospital for jaundice. I stayed with you in the same room and sang you songs and touched your bare skin when you'd start to cry in the incubator. We bonded and I fell in love hard. I ached to be home with your brothers; it was so hard to know the hospital was the best place for you and to feel, in the same moment, that I wanted to be anywhere but there. While we were in the hospital, time stopped. I couldn't see the ground from our room so I had no idea if there was still snow or if flowers were blooming. I lost track of time and what day it was because of the constant blue glow from your incubator. I was allowed to take you out only to feed you and change your diaper. I did what I could to snuggle and would remove my shirt and nurse you in only your diaper, skin to skin. I'd caress your skin and talk softly. I like to think that my voice calmed you because when your sunglasses would go back on I only needed to coo, "you're okay, Momma's right here," and you'd settle right in for another long nap.
Once we got back home, life was back to normal and a newborn had been thrown into the mix. Shaun still had school, Craig still had work, Ian was still, well, Ian, and I started to feel less and less like myself. I was going through the motions and doing what I thought I should be doing but felt like I just wanted to find a hole and disappear into it. The spiral began. I sought out a counsellor who had experience with post partum depression, started to open up some of how I was feeling to Craig and on here, and slowly found my way back to being okay. Things are much better now but some days I still feel that darkness lurking on the other side of a bad day. Having three children who need me has helped me to push all that away.
And you, Kyle, you have made having three boys so much better than I could have ever imagined. You are patient, sooo patient. Waiting for everything and never complaining. It helps that your brothers try their best to entertain you while you're waiting for me, but even if they're not around you find ways to entertain yourself. You love to play with balls and will throw and chase the green Waste Management one until it gets stuck under something and then come and find me and hollar, "bah, bah," until I figure out where it's hiding. You still have a suckie. A green one and a blue one made by Born Free. And they have to be the ones without handles. I've spent hoards of money on all kinds of other suckies but these are the only two you will accept. If we ever lose them, we're done for. You have a favourite blankie, who as of yet does not have an official name. It's the white one from Shaun's school friend, Vanessa, that has a fuzzy, soft side and an animal print on the other side. You like to rub the soft side in your fingers as you're falling asleep.
Sleep, yes, you're a sleeper. At one year old you still have three naps a day. An hour and a half in the morning beginning around 9, two hours in the afternoon beginning around 12:30, and then another half hour at dinner time. Sometimes I even have to wake you up from your third nap because you'd sleep the night away and completely skip dinner. You've never had an issue going to sleep and are willing to sleep pretty much anywhere... except the car. For whatever reason, you fight sleep in the car until your eyes are red and rolling and your head is bobbing. Then when sleep finally wins the battle, you'll only stay sleeping for half and hour before you're awake and ready to rock n roll.
We've decided your nickname is Chubbers, although Ian calls you Kyle-Boo. He figured out that nickname all on his own and calls you that more than anything. You really are chubby. Moreso than either of the other boys. At one year old you're over 24 pounds and starting to grow out of some of your 18 month clothes.
For the past 2 months you've been crawling. It's like you would practice in your sleep because one evening you just... crawled. No little strides here or there, you just went. Within half an hour you were going from bedroom to bedroom and now you're so fast you can chase Shaun and Ian around the house.
You talk, too. I'd guess you probably have 10 words but it seems like there's new sounds coming out of your mouth every day so it could be more and I just don't realize it. Your favourite things to say are definitely Bye-Bye and BooBoo. Bye-Bye is accompanied by an adorable wave, complete from wrist to fingertips. BooBoo is our dumb fat cat who seems to love you just as much as you love her. Probably because you feed her. Oh yes, I see you feed her even though I'm sure you'd swear up and down that you do nothing of the sort. She lurks under your highchair and you'll casually drop things off your tray and then glance in my direction to see if I noticed. Sometimes if you don't drop things quickly enough, BooBoo will climb onto my chair at the table and nonchalantly put her nose on the edge of your tray as a reminder. Daddy and I scratch our heads over how she never loses any weight even though we continue to feed her less and less; I know why but can't bring myself to make you stop. It's too damn cute!
Kyle, you have brought something to our family that we didn't even realize was missing until you were here. You're completely perfect, completely adorable and completely ours. We love you!
I diligently folded and re-folded your newborn clothes and reviewed the home birth list once a day, double and triple and quadruple checking to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Your brothers talked to you whenever I was sitting quietly. They'd chatter about things they wanted to do with you, talk about the cats and your grandparents, and ask you if you were ready to come out yet.
When that day came, and we all met you for the first time, it was as if you'd always been here. I felt an overwhelming surge of love. You sure were in a hurry once we had all decided labor was stalled. Pooja had broken my water at home hours earlier and I was feeling like labor would never get going. Tub, shower, sitting backwards on the toilet, squatting, walking, stairs, bouncing on the trampoline (really!); nothing seemed to be working. I made the decision around 5pm that we were heading to the hospital. I was tired of waiting and was desperate to meet you.
Melissa drove me and you through the busy rush-hour streets while Craig followed behind in the van and Gramma and Grampa stayed with your brothers. She casually chatted about her first apartment and the park where she found a stray kitten while I desperately wished I had stayed at home for only a few minutes longer; the contractions were coming fast and furiously. I was in agony and wasn't sure we were going to make it.
Finally at the hospital, I paused and braced myself on the guardrail outside the main entrance for another strong contraction. With each contraction I could feel you creeping deeper into my pelvis. I knew you'd be here soon. I held it together in the elevator and groaned as another began when the doors opened. Pooja was already in a room, ready and waiting for me to walk in. It was only minutes after I arrived that I couldn't remain standing for my contractions anymore. Pooja kept wanting to get my blood pressure but I kept getting contractions: one after another. I lay on my left side focusing on relaxing during the intense pulling and tightening, and then would take a moment in between to have Melissa post on Facebook that you were coming or to send someone to find Craig (who hadn't arrived yet!).
My body was starting to take over. I needed to relax. I knew the only way you'd come quicker was if I breathed deeply and slowly and relaxed every part of my body. Eyes, mouth, jaw... Craig flew into the room in a flurry of excitement and apologies of how full the parking garage was and all of a sudden, there you were. Your head was born into my mesh underwear. I was still telling myself to relax as my body was introducing you to your new world. Pooja scrambled and frantically ripped the underwear off me as I yelled that you were coming. Moments later I was able to reach under your arms and pull you onto my chest and whisper in your ear, "Nice to meet you, Kyle." I'll never, ever forget that first moment. You barely cried while I sobbed. A perfect, incredible boy. Little number three.
Those first few days are still quite a blur. We went home hours after your birth and introduced you to anxious grandparents and your big brothers. You slept that first night nuzzled next to me and my breast. You figured out how to nurse right away and ate great. My milk came in quickly and you continued to present wet and dirty diapers. Your eating and dirtying wasn't enough, though, and at 5 days old you were admitted to the hospital for jaundice. I stayed with you in the same room and sang you songs and touched your bare skin when you'd start to cry in the incubator. We bonded and I fell in love hard. I ached to be home with your brothers; it was so hard to know the hospital was the best place for you and to feel, in the same moment, that I wanted to be anywhere but there. While we were in the hospital, time stopped. I couldn't see the ground from our room so I had no idea if there was still snow or if flowers were blooming. I lost track of time and what day it was because of the constant blue glow from your incubator. I was allowed to take you out only to feed you and change your diaper. I did what I could to snuggle and would remove my shirt and nurse you in only your diaper, skin to skin. I'd caress your skin and talk softly. I like to think that my voice calmed you because when your sunglasses would go back on I only needed to coo, "you're okay, Momma's right here," and you'd settle right in for another long nap.
Once we got back home, life was back to normal and a newborn had been thrown into the mix. Shaun still had school, Craig still had work, Ian was still, well, Ian, and I started to feel less and less like myself. I was going through the motions and doing what I thought I should be doing but felt like I just wanted to find a hole and disappear into it. The spiral began. I sought out a counsellor who had experience with post partum depression, started to open up some of how I was feeling to Craig and on here, and slowly found my way back to being okay. Things are much better now but some days I still feel that darkness lurking on the other side of a bad day. Having three children who need me has helped me to push all that away.
And you, Kyle, you have made having three boys so much better than I could have ever imagined. You are patient, sooo patient. Waiting for everything and never complaining. It helps that your brothers try their best to entertain you while you're waiting for me, but even if they're not around you find ways to entertain yourself. You love to play with balls and will throw and chase the green Waste Management one until it gets stuck under something and then come and find me and hollar, "bah, bah," until I figure out where it's hiding. You still have a suckie. A green one and a blue one made by Born Free. And they have to be the ones without handles. I've spent hoards of money on all kinds of other suckies but these are the only two you will accept. If we ever lose them, we're done for. You have a favourite blankie, who as of yet does not have an official name. It's the white one from Shaun's school friend, Vanessa, that has a fuzzy, soft side and an animal print on the other side. You like to rub the soft side in your fingers as you're falling asleep.
Sleep, yes, you're a sleeper. At one year old you still have three naps a day. An hour and a half in the morning beginning around 9, two hours in the afternoon beginning around 12:30, and then another half hour at dinner time. Sometimes I even have to wake you up from your third nap because you'd sleep the night away and completely skip dinner. You've never had an issue going to sleep and are willing to sleep pretty much anywhere... except the car. For whatever reason, you fight sleep in the car until your eyes are red and rolling and your head is bobbing. Then when sleep finally wins the battle, you'll only stay sleeping for half and hour before you're awake and ready to rock n roll.
We've decided your nickname is Chubbers, although Ian calls you Kyle-Boo. He figured out that nickname all on his own and calls you that more than anything. You really are chubby. Moreso than either of the other boys. At one year old you're over 24 pounds and starting to grow out of some of your 18 month clothes.
For the past 2 months you've been crawling. It's like you would practice in your sleep because one evening you just... crawled. No little strides here or there, you just went. Within half an hour you were going from bedroom to bedroom and now you're so fast you can chase Shaun and Ian around the house.
You talk, too. I'd guess you probably have 10 words but it seems like there's new sounds coming out of your mouth every day so it could be more and I just don't realize it. Your favourite things to say are definitely Bye-Bye and BooBoo. Bye-Bye is accompanied by an adorable wave, complete from wrist to fingertips. BooBoo is our dumb fat cat who seems to love you just as much as you love her. Probably because you feed her. Oh yes, I see you feed her even though I'm sure you'd swear up and down that you do nothing of the sort. She lurks under your highchair and you'll casually drop things off your tray and then glance in my direction to see if I noticed. Sometimes if you don't drop things quickly enough, BooBoo will climb onto my chair at the table and nonchalantly put her nose on the edge of your tray as a reminder. Daddy and I scratch our heads over how she never loses any weight even though we continue to feed her less and less; I know why but can't bring myself to make you stop. It's too damn cute!
Kyle, you have brought something to our family that we didn't even realize was missing until you were here. You're completely perfect, completely adorable and completely ours. We love you!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Toddler Impulse
Ian is a toddler and I know that toddlers sometimes have impulses they cannot control, but I think I'm going to have some uncontrollable impulses if his destructive behavior continues!
Without a doubt, Ian is THE most challenging child I have ever come across. He is BUSY, to put it nicely. This afternoon in a matter of minutes he was able to colour on Kyle's highchair with a red crayon, destroy my chapstick, and dump salt all over the salad I had prepared for dinner.
He had a crayon because he had promised me he would only colour on his paper. A little background: colouring on things other than paper has been a major issue for Ian. He's managed to colour on walls, tables, his body, the highchair, my shoes, and multiple books. We've always dealt with his destructive colouring in the past by taking away the crayons for a period of time. Then when crayons are reintroduced we'll review the rules (which he clearly knows and will tell us without us having to say them first). Ultimately he ends up colouring on something within minutes of having his sneaky little hands back on the crayons - or whatever it is he's using. We've tried Aquadoodle even and all he does is open the pen, pour out all the water and then play in it. Even pencil crayons are used to colour books and walls. I'm at my wit's end. I think he's grounded from anything-plus-paper for a very, very long time. Like, until he's 30 I'm thinking.
The chapstick was inside my purse, in an interior zipper pocket which was zipped closed; my purse was zipped closed and sitting on the hall table. It's always been the same rule: don't touch anything on the hall table. Usually there's keys there, my purse and sometimes something that needs to be returned or exchanged plus its receipt. The hall table is off limits. Ian was reading books - or so I thought. When I returned from putting away laundry he was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his finger knuckle-deep into my chapstick tube and his face was covered with shiny, strawberry scented grease. Along with his whole hand, most of his chin and neck, and all over his new shirt.
The salt was partly my fault but again, I think his impulses just take over and he can't stop himself. Ian was sitting on the counter helping me make dinner - my first mistake. I was cutting vegetables and preparing items for our salad and Ian was placing them in the pot or the bowl - wherever they belonged - my second mistake. I use a dish - my third mistake - of Kosher salt and use my fingers to sprinkle it on our food instead of regular iodized salt in a shaker (the reason is for a whole other post) and Ian took the dish of salt and, in a split second, dumped the whole container of salt on the salad. I shouted and asked him what he was doing. He answered that he was putting some salt on the salad. Like, duh, I guess.
So that's my day in a nutshell. Same as all the other days. I spend it tidying and cleaning up and Ian follows behind me dumping and drawing and, well, being a toddler I suppose. It's going to take years off my life, I just know it!
Without a doubt, Ian is THE most challenging child I have ever come across. He is BUSY, to put it nicely. This afternoon in a matter of minutes he was able to colour on Kyle's highchair with a red crayon, destroy my chapstick, and dump salt all over the salad I had prepared for dinner.
He had a crayon because he had promised me he would only colour on his paper. A little background: colouring on things other than paper has been a major issue for Ian. He's managed to colour on walls, tables, his body, the highchair, my shoes, and multiple books. We've always dealt with his destructive colouring in the past by taking away the crayons for a period of time. Then when crayons are reintroduced we'll review the rules (which he clearly knows and will tell us without us having to say them first). Ultimately he ends up colouring on something within minutes of having his sneaky little hands back on the crayons - or whatever it is he's using. We've tried Aquadoodle even and all he does is open the pen, pour out all the water and then play in it. Even pencil crayons are used to colour books and walls. I'm at my wit's end. I think he's grounded from anything-plus-paper for a very, very long time. Like, until he's 30 I'm thinking.
The chapstick was inside my purse, in an interior zipper pocket which was zipped closed; my purse was zipped closed and sitting on the hall table. It's always been the same rule: don't touch anything on the hall table. Usually there's keys there, my purse and sometimes something that needs to be returned or exchanged plus its receipt. The hall table is off limits. Ian was reading books - or so I thought. When I returned from putting away laundry he was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his finger knuckle-deep into my chapstick tube and his face was covered with shiny, strawberry scented grease. Along with his whole hand, most of his chin and neck, and all over his new shirt.
The salt was partly my fault but again, I think his impulses just take over and he can't stop himself. Ian was sitting on the counter helping me make dinner - my first mistake. I was cutting vegetables and preparing items for our salad and Ian was placing them in the pot or the bowl - wherever they belonged - my second mistake. I use a dish - my third mistake - of Kosher salt and use my fingers to sprinkle it on our food instead of regular iodized salt in a shaker (the reason is for a whole other post) and Ian took the dish of salt and, in a split second, dumped the whole container of salt on the salad. I shouted and asked him what he was doing. He answered that he was putting some salt on the salad. Like, duh, I guess.
So that's my day in a nutshell. Same as all the other days. I spend it tidying and cleaning up and Ian follows behind me dumping and drawing and, well, being a toddler I suppose. It's going to take years off my life, I just know it!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Old Mother Hubbard
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone;
But when she got there
Her cupboard was bare
And so her poor dog had none.
Gee, that seems to reign true in my life today. To rewind, I was due to do groceries on Monday or Tuesday last week. After looking through the freezer on Sunday last week I decided we had more than enough to get us through until Thursday or even Friday and only bought some essentials, like, milk, bread, cheese, and some fresh veggies. Thursday came and I wasn't feeling too well; a cold was coming on and my throat was terribly sore. Friday was deemed grocery day because I was sure I'd be feeling better by then; besides Craig's home on Fridays so I wouldn't have to drag the circus with me.
Friday arrived and I was feeling like a used bag of pucks. My throat was red and inflamed and I was starting to feel like I was getting the flu. You know the kind where your skin hurts, your hair hurts and any amount of standing or walking puts you into fits of dizziness. We also had tickets to go out Friday night (New Year Eve ya know). I made an appointment to see the on-call doctor and get my throat taken care of (thank-you penicillin) and spent the rest of the day in bed. My grocery list lay on the table at the front door.
Saturday came, I was feeling better and grocery stores were closed.
Now it's Sunday. I'm not even kidding you when I say there's no food in the house. If I had my way I would have run out first thing this morning and picked up at least some coffee and milk to get us through breakfast. I managed to dig a juice box out of the camping stuff so at least the kids had juice with their toast; and I had a bag of prunes in the fridge so they had an element of fruitishness. I'm afraid to see the final bill this morning at the grocery store!
Went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone;
But when she got there
Her cupboard was bare
And so her poor dog had none.
Gee, that seems to reign true in my life today. To rewind, I was due to do groceries on Monday or Tuesday last week. After looking through the freezer on Sunday last week I decided we had more than enough to get us through until Thursday or even Friday and only bought some essentials, like, milk, bread, cheese, and some fresh veggies. Thursday came and I wasn't feeling too well; a cold was coming on and my throat was terribly sore. Friday was deemed grocery day because I was sure I'd be feeling better by then; besides Craig's home on Fridays so I wouldn't have to drag the circus with me.
Friday arrived and I was feeling like a used bag of pucks. My throat was red and inflamed and I was starting to feel like I was getting the flu. You know the kind where your skin hurts, your hair hurts and any amount of standing or walking puts you into fits of dizziness. We also had tickets to go out Friday night (New Year Eve ya know). I made an appointment to see the on-call doctor and get my throat taken care of (thank-you penicillin) and spent the rest of the day in bed. My grocery list lay on the table at the front door.
Saturday came, I was feeling better and grocery stores were closed.
Now it's Sunday. I'm not even kidding you when I say there's no food in the house. If I had my way I would have run out first thing this morning and picked up at least some coffee and milk to get us through breakfast. I managed to dig a juice box out of the camping stuff so at least the kids had juice with their toast; and I had a bag of prunes in the fridge so they had an element of fruitishness. I'm afraid to see the final bill this morning at the grocery store!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
*Hic*
Shaun's breathing funny. I know why.
Me: Shaun, do you have the hiccups? You're breathing weird and holding your breath.
Shaun: No.
Me: Then why are you breathing like that? You only breathe like that when you have the hiccups.
Shaun: No, Mom. I don't *hic* have the hiccups.
Me: See? I knew it! I know you so well, I knew you had the hiccups before you even knew yourself.
Shaun: That's not true, Mom! I knew *hic* I had the hiccups. I just forgot.
Me: Shaun, do you have the hiccups? You're breathing weird and holding your breath.
Shaun: No.
Me: Then why are you breathing like that? You only breathe like that when you have the hiccups.
Shaun: No, Mom. I don't *hic* have the hiccups.
Me: See? I knew it! I know you so well, I knew you had the hiccups before you even knew yourself.
Shaun: That's not true, Mom! I knew *hic* I had the hiccups. I just forgot.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Night-Training
Ian was dry again this morning! I got him up around 11:00 when I went to bed and had him pee. He was really groggy and I had to hold him up at the toilet so he didn't lose his balance and fall in, but he peed a little and went straight back to bed. The downside, he got up around 2:30 this morning and wanted to be up for the day. He was soooo angry when I made him get back in bed. Then, before 6am, both boys were in my room snickering and making a bunch of noise. Craig sent them back to bed but they never went. They goofed around in their room for 10 minutes or so before waking Kyle with the racket when I finally submitted and got up with them.
It's going to be a long day.
It's going to be a long day.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Post Weekend
So. Phew. I don't really even know where to begin. Nothing's really been happening, I guess, and that's why I haven't blogged in so long. But now I don't really know what to say.
We spent the weekend with family. That was cool. The boys spent today recouperating in their jammies and we read stories together and played lots of Lego in the playroom.
I was able to head out to hunt for some deals at the mall and low and behold, Justin Bieber had just left. Apparently he was there shopping with his entourage of bodyguards and when I arrived the screaming girls were still busy texting all their friends. It made the 6 o'clock news and it looked like the whole thing was quite the scene. I feel sorry for the kid but who in their right mind heads out to shop on Boxing Day when they're as popular as him unless they want to make a scene. Yep, that's what I thought.
The kids are doing really well. Kyle's learning around one new word every couple of days. His latest ones are "stinky" (tinty) and "more" (mah). Shaun has been keeping himself surprisingly busy while out of school. We went tobogganing last week and he had a blast flying down the hill headfirst. Ian is nearly night-trained and has been fighting tooth and nail to wear underwear to bed. He's been dry every night for nearly a week even with all the late nights we've had recently so tonight I put him in undies. His sheets are due to be changed this week so I figured now was as good a time as any for him to have a wet bed. We'll see if I change my tune tomorrow.
Craig had his first ever visit to the chiropractor last week for his back. He said the guy snapped-crackled-and-popped him and he felt a little better that day and into the following day but admitted to me on the weekend that he's back to feeling the same back pain. I know a lot of people feel like they need to rely on a chiropractor to give them regular adjustments (including many of Craig's own immediate family). We rely on other methods that don't include a chiropractor but this visit was a last resort for him. Poor guy! And it ended up being $80 down the tubes for the consultation and adjustment.
Overall we're keeping busy. I've accepted more and more that the house will never be as clean as I'd like it and that ALL the laundry will never be done at the same time ever again and that there will probably be some sort of food remnant in Kyle's highchair. That's okay. My kids won't remember that the toilet seat usually has little drips on it; they'll remember that I'm hopeless at the card game War, that I can toboggan down a hill with a child on each knee and still manage to stop at the bottom before hitting the fence, and that mini trampolines are a lot bouncier than they look!
We spent the weekend with family. That was cool. The boys spent today recouperating in their jammies and we read stories together and played lots of Lego in the playroom.
I was able to head out to hunt for some deals at the mall and low and behold, Justin Bieber had just left. Apparently he was there shopping with his entourage of bodyguards and when I arrived the screaming girls were still busy texting all their friends. It made the 6 o'clock news and it looked like the whole thing was quite the scene. I feel sorry for the kid but who in their right mind heads out to shop on Boxing Day when they're as popular as him unless they want to make a scene. Yep, that's what I thought.
The kids are doing really well. Kyle's learning around one new word every couple of days. His latest ones are "stinky" (tinty) and "more" (mah). Shaun has been keeping himself surprisingly busy while out of school. We went tobogganing last week and he had a blast flying down the hill headfirst. Ian is nearly night-trained and has been fighting tooth and nail to wear underwear to bed. He's been dry every night for nearly a week even with all the late nights we've had recently so tonight I put him in undies. His sheets are due to be changed this week so I figured now was as good a time as any for him to have a wet bed. We'll see if I change my tune tomorrow.
Craig had his first ever visit to the chiropractor last week for his back. He said the guy snapped-crackled-and-popped him and he felt a little better that day and into the following day but admitted to me on the weekend that he's back to feeling the same back pain. I know a lot of people feel like they need to rely on a chiropractor to give them regular adjustments (including many of Craig's own immediate family). We rely on other methods that don't include a chiropractor but this visit was a last resort for him. Poor guy! And it ended up being $80 down the tubes for the consultation and adjustment.
Overall we're keeping busy. I've accepted more and more that the house will never be as clean as I'd like it and that ALL the laundry will never be done at the same time ever again and that there will probably be some sort of food remnant in Kyle's highchair. That's okay. My kids won't remember that the toilet seat usually has little drips on it; they'll remember that I'm hopeless at the card game War, that I can toboggan down a hill with a child on each knee and still manage to stop at the bottom before hitting the fence, and that mini trampolines are a lot bouncier than they look!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Mike Tompkins
I'm not one to pay much attention to celebrities. I purposely look away at all the rag-magazines in the grocery store because I'm determined to not be someone who perpetuates rumors. I have a celebrity crush though. Yep, as of tonight. I don't even think he's officially a celebrity but he's appeared on the Today show so I guess that qualifies as somewhat of a celebrity. The thing that got me is that he was born and raised in a teeny tiny town very close to where I grew up. He would have gone to my high school (and if you know my high school you'll realize how completely amazing that is since it had a complete population of under 1000 when I was there). I just think what he does is absolutely amazing.
Mike Tompkins has a true talent, and I have a crush! Isn't he cute in a geeky/nerdy sorta way?
Also, check out the top-right image around 2:05 or so. The way he's groovin' makes me laugh every time!
Mike Tompkins has a true talent, and I have a crush! Isn't he cute in a geeky/nerdy sorta way?
Also, check out the top-right image around 2:05 or so. The way he's groovin' makes me laugh every time!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Perks
Have I mentioned how much I love Ian's Nursery School? If I have, I apologize for telling you again, but I Love Ian's Nursery School. He's still in the toddler room - and will be until the end of June when the school closes for the summer - and it can be busy and loud at times, but he loves it there. The best part is that there's so many little perks for the families.
A few weeks ago we took advantage of a Date Night only for nursery school families. It involved us dropping off our kids there at 5 o'clock for a pizza supper, crafts, a movie, a snack, and other activities (Shaun reported a scavenger hunt in his school-age group) and being able to leave for 4 hours and do whatever the hell we wanted. Yup, 4 hours of no-kids-so-what-should-we-do-with-our-time free time. When we picked them up, both were exhausted and Shaun told stories all the way home of all the fun he had; even though it's Baby School, according to him.
Tonight I braved the snow and cold and an infant with a terrible cold and brought all 3 to a Christmas Craft Night. Snacks were provided again, and they had a huge room set up with tables all covered with various craft activities. Staff were on hand to help direct each craft while I chased Kyle around as he crawled everywhere and tried to eat every single tiny bead he found on the floor. It was exhausting and I was worried I would regret heading out tonight, but the kids had fun and each ended up with a pretty snazzy mini Christmas tree outta the deal. We didn't get to the last craft: an angel to top the tree. It's okay anyway because Kyle was starting to get pretty crabby by the end.
I'm not completely decided on whether Ian will return to this nursery school for his preschool years or not. Mostly because their preschool program is very large (like, 50 kids kinda large!). The larger group is split into 4 smaller groups, each with their own teacher, but the children move from room to room throughout the morning so there's a lot of transitions. I'll have to ask more questions as the decision approaches. For now though, the perks are almost enough to send Ian back for preschool!
A few weeks ago we took advantage of a Date Night only for nursery school families. It involved us dropping off our kids there at 5 o'clock for a pizza supper, crafts, a movie, a snack, and other activities (Shaun reported a scavenger hunt in his school-age group) and being able to leave for 4 hours and do whatever the hell we wanted. Yup, 4 hours of no-kids-so-what-should-we-do-with-our-time free time. When we picked them up, both were exhausted and Shaun told stories all the way home of all the fun he had; even though it's Baby School, according to him.
Tonight I braved the snow and cold and an infant with a terrible cold and brought all 3 to a Christmas Craft Night. Snacks were provided again, and they had a huge room set up with tables all covered with various craft activities. Staff were on hand to help direct each craft while I chased Kyle around as he crawled everywhere and tried to eat every single tiny bead he found on the floor. It was exhausting and I was worried I would regret heading out tonight, but the kids had fun and each ended up with a pretty snazzy mini Christmas tree outta the deal. We didn't get to the last craft: an angel to top the tree. It's okay anyway because Kyle was starting to get pretty crabby by the end.
I'm not completely decided on whether Ian will return to this nursery school for his preschool years or not. Mostly because their preschool program is very large (like, 50 kids kinda large!). The larger group is split into 4 smaller groups, each with their own teacher, but the children move from room to room throughout the morning so there's a lot of transitions. I'll have to ask more questions as the decision approaches. For now though, the perks are almost enough to send Ian back for preschool!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Canine Advantage
We don't have a dog. Not because we don't like dogs, because we do. In fact, a dog is in our 5 year plan. Well, maybe 10 year plan. I grew up with a dog, so did Craig. Dogs are wonderful for teaching your children about responsibility, compassion, patience, love; I could go on and on. Aside from the hair and expense of having a dog, they really are wonderful creatures. We don't have a dog because we don't have room in our hearts or calendar for a dog. We know that.
Why, then, do so many people have dogs who do not care for them like they deserve? I'm sitting here listening to a dog barking outside. It's the same dog that stays outside around the clock in the summer and barks all night long. The same dog who I have never seen outside of her backyard. This dog lives at the same house where the grass is never mowed, the garage door paint is faded and peeling, the driveway isn't shoveled in the winter. I've never seen the owner, only heard her when she screams at the dog from her bedroom window at night to, "shut-up!". There's a swingset in the backyard that sits just beyond the tall cedars. I've never seen any children playing on it. There's a dirt path beaten into the overgrown grass that runs along the fence line but I know it's not from children's feet.
I ache for this poor dog. She deserves a much better life than the one she has.
Why, then, do so many people have dogs who do not care for them like they deserve? I'm sitting here listening to a dog barking outside. It's the same dog that stays outside around the clock in the summer and barks all night long. The same dog who I have never seen outside of her backyard. This dog lives at the same house where the grass is never mowed, the garage door paint is faded and peeling, the driveway isn't shoveled in the winter. I've never seen the owner, only heard her when she screams at the dog from her bedroom window at night to, "shut-up!". There's a swingset in the backyard that sits just beyond the tall cedars. I've never seen any children playing on it. There's a dirt path beaten into the overgrown grass that runs along the fence line but I know it's not from children's feet.
I ache for this poor dog. She deserves a much better life than the one she has.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Sweet Slumber
Kyle has been an awesome sleeper since basically the day he was born. In fact, all three boys were sleeping through the night pretty early. I think Ian took the longest to sleep through consistently and I seem to remember he was about 4 months old, so still a LOT younger than many, many babies. It seems that Kyle, though, has an appetite for sleep like no other child I've ever met. Take for example his napping. He still takes 3 naps a day at nearly 11 months old. Yes, 3 naps. He goes down in the morning for about an hour and a half, then in the afternoon right after he eats his lunch for about 2 hours (sometimes it's close to 3) and then a quick 45 minute catnap right around dinner time. He's back in bed for the night at 7:30 and doesn't wake up again until 7 or later the following morning. Tonight his catnap began at 4PM and I heard him stirring just before 7PM. He slept right through all the rattling and banging the Bigs were creating, right through dinner, right through me vacuuming the staircase; he's a sleeper, I told you! So I went and got him; he was still groggy and snuggly. Just like I like it! I quickly fed him some dinner and then at 7:45 as I was getting the Bigs ready for bed, I threw Kyle's pyjamas on him with no intention of sticking him back in bed, more so he'd be ready for bed later, and he was sooo cranky and whiny that I ended up putting him back to bed anyway. And the kid fell asleep again! Normally I'd be worried one of the other boys would be up way earlier than normal with such a big nap right before bed but Kyle is such a sleeper I just know he'll be the last one to wake up in the morning. It's almost like when he plays too much during the day he just can't turn his brain off enough for his naps to get a good, restful sleep and ends up napping longer. What a kid, I tell ya!
Like I said, Ian has been our toughest nut to crack in the sleep department. He still sleeps and naps far better than a lot of kids his age and I think I'm the envy of a lot of my Mommy friends who have children who absolutely refuse to nap or still wake up multiple times during the night. After we got past Ian getting out of bed 20 times a night before falling asleep, it's been pretty smooth sailing. Until I got this book about monsters, that is. I bought a book last week called, "There's No Such Thing As Monsters". It's basically about a little bear who moves out of his big brother's room and into his own room. He's lonely and afraid without his big brother bear and sees monsters in the shapes and shadows in his new room. Big bear comes in a few times and eases little bear's fears and by the end of the story, little bear is snoring. Ian loves this book and has been asking for it to be read to him multiple times a day since the day it came home.
Last week Craig mentioned to me that Ian woke up around midnight one night and was calling for me from the top of the stairs. Craig was still awake so he came upstairs and cuddled with Ian a little. Ian told Craig he was afraid of the monsters in his room. A little history: our boys have never, ever, mentioned monsters. Shaun's never been afraid of anything in his closet or under his bed, like many kids are. We never talk about monsters because they've never been a problem. We closely sensor the small amounts of TV our boys watch and there's never anything even potentially scary in the shows so Craig was a little puzzled over where this whole fear of monsters was coming from, until I told him about the new book.
Then last night I was cleaning up some things upstairs before heading to bed myself and I heard Ian gasp in his sleep. Right after that he came stumbling out of his room looking for me, saying he'd had a bad dream about monsters. The poor little guy is afraid of monsters now from this book that's supposed to cure children's fears of exactly that! I feel awful!
Like I said, Ian has been our toughest nut to crack in the sleep department. He still sleeps and naps far better than a lot of kids his age and I think I'm the envy of a lot of my Mommy friends who have children who absolutely refuse to nap or still wake up multiple times during the night. After we got past Ian getting out of bed 20 times a night before falling asleep, it's been pretty smooth sailing. Until I got this book about monsters, that is. I bought a book last week called, "There's No Such Thing As Monsters". It's basically about a little bear who moves out of his big brother's room and into his own room. He's lonely and afraid without his big brother bear and sees monsters in the shapes and shadows in his new room. Big bear comes in a few times and eases little bear's fears and by the end of the story, little bear is snoring. Ian loves this book and has been asking for it to be read to him multiple times a day since the day it came home.
Last week Craig mentioned to me that Ian woke up around midnight one night and was calling for me from the top of the stairs. Craig was still awake so he came upstairs and cuddled with Ian a little. Ian told Craig he was afraid of the monsters in his room. A little history: our boys have never, ever, mentioned monsters. Shaun's never been afraid of anything in his closet or under his bed, like many kids are. We never talk about monsters because they've never been a problem. We closely sensor the small amounts of TV our boys watch and there's never anything even potentially scary in the shows so Craig was a little puzzled over where this whole fear of monsters was coming from, until I told him about the new book.
Then last night I was cleaning up some things upstairs before heading to bed myself and I heard Ian gasp in his sleep. Right after that he came stumbling out of his room looking for me, saying he'd had a bad dream about monsters. The poor little guy is afraid of monsters now from this book that's supposed to cure children's fears of exactly that! I feel awful!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Before and After
Before and After, and not the kind you think.
While we were getting ready to head out the door to do the groceries tonight I realized how much I've changed since having Shaun. Keep reading...
Me Before:
I would make sure my clothes were clean and any jeans had no wrinkles before heading out the door. My hair was always brushed and usually tied back into a neat ponytail, sometimes with a strand of hair pinned around the elastic.
Me After:
Do I have clothes on? Yes? Good. Hair? Umm, I'll wear a hat today.
Grocery List Before:
All the items were organized in neat little sections on my sheet of binder paper. I would put dairy in the top left corner, next to that bread products and then produce, etc. It was a list created by a Master. I would make sure my handwriting was pristine in case I lost my list in the grocery store so that whoever would pick it up would think, "My, this gal has very nice handwriting."
Grocery List After:
A discarded piece of paper - usually the back of a bill, with mostly illegible scribbles on it of strange things to get this shop like lemon grass, garlic mayo, and paneer. For the rest of the shop, I wing it.
Diaper Bag Before:
The always-completely-stocked wipes were neatly tucked in an inside pocket. I'd use the premium diapers when I'd go out so that if I was changing Shaun in a washroom people wouldn't think I was using the cheapies (meanwhile I had the cheapies at home). I had snacks (only fruit so people wouldn't think I fed my kid junk), books, small toys and a complete change of good clothes for Shaun in there.
Diaper Bag After:
Diapers. Check. Shake the wipes container. If it sounds like there's something in there: Check. Undies for Ian. Check. Plus any random toys that one of the kids has dumped in there, usually a couple of mints from the last restaurant visit, and sometimes a half-full bottle of water where the water has condensed on the top of the bottle because it's been sitting in there so long.
My Kid Before:
Shaun would be dressed only in his best clothes. Name brand, all matchy-matchy, his best coat and shoes and usually I'd spike his hair up into a mohawk because I loved the attention it would get him.
My Kids After:
Is everyone dressed? Usually I make this observation around the same time as I'm making my own on myself. Are all the shoes accounted for? Are all the children accounted for?
My Vehicle Before:
I drove a sharp silver Grand Prix with brushed chrome rims and dark tinted windows. I had a stash of my favourite CDs in the multi-disc player and more on the visor where I stored my flashy sunglasses.
My Vehicle After:
A dull brown minivan with finger-printed and tongue-printed windows and a non-working rear windshield wiper that is permanently stuck half way through it's stroke. My 6-disc CD changer houses Raffi, Sesame Street, Raffi's Greatest Hits, Igor Soundtrack, Madagascar Soundtrack, and Mixed Kids' Songs. In that order. I have no sunglasses because my children continue to wear them and subsequently break them.
Why do people continue to have children if this is what their lives become????
Because of this:
And this:
And this:
While we were getting ready to head out the door to do the groceries tonight I realized how much I've changed since having Shaun. Keep reading...
Me Before:
I would make sure my clothes were clean and any jeans had no wrinkles before heading out the door. My hair was always brushed and usually tied back into a neat ponytail, sometimes with a strand of hair pinned around the elastic.
Me After:
Do I have clothes on? Yes? Good. Hair? Umm, I'll wear a hat today.
Grocery List Before:
All the items were organized in neat little sections on my sheet of binder paper. I would put dairy in the top left corner, next to that bread products and then produce, etc. It was a list created by a Master. I would make sure my handwriting was pristine in case I lost my list in the grocery store so that whoever would pick it up would think, "My, this gal has very nice handwriting."
Grocery List After:
A discarded piece of paper - usually the back of a bill, with mostly illegible scribbles on it of strange things to get this shop like lemon grass, garlic mayo, and paneer. For the rest of the shop, I wing it.
Diaper Bag Before:
The always-completely-stocked wipes were neatly tucked in an inside pocket. I'd use the premium diapers when I'd go out so that if I was changing Shaun in a washroom people wouldn't think I was using the cheapies (meanwhile I had the cheapies at home). I had snacks (only fruit so people wouldn't think I fed my kid junk), books, small toys and a complete change of good clothes for Shaun in there.
Diaper Bag After:
Diapers. Check. Shake the wipes container. If it sounds like there's something in there: Check. Undies for Ian. Check. Plus any random toys that one of the kids has dumped in there, usually a couple of mints from the last restaurant visit, and sometimes a half-full bottle of water where the water has condensed on the top of the bottle because it's been sitting in there so long.
My Kid Before:
Shaun would be dressed only in his best clothes. Name brand, all matchy-matchy, his best coat and shoes and usually I'd spike his hair up into a mohawk because I loved the attention it would get him.
My Kids After:
Is everyone dressed? Usually I make this observation around the same time as I'm making my own on myself. Are all the shoes accounted for? Are all the children accounted for?
My Vehicle Before:
I drove a sharp silver Grand Prix with brushed chrome rims and dark tinted windows. I had a stash of my favourite CDs in the multi-disc player and more on the visor where I stored my flashy sunglasses.
My Vehicle After:
A dull brown minivan with finger-printed and tongue-printed windows and a non-working rear windshield wiper that is permanently stuck half way through it's stroke. My 6-disc CD changer houses Raffi, Sesame Street, Raffi's Greatest Hits, Igor Soundtrack, Madagascar Soundtrack, and Mixed Kids' Songs. In that order. I have no sunglasses because my children continue to wear them and subsequently break them.
Why do people continue to have children if this is what their lives become????
Because of this:
And this:
And this:
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Say What You Need to Say
Gah! How do I say nicely to Craig without sounding like a miserable nagging wife,
"I appreciate you taking the initiative to throw in a load of laundry. How is it possible that you can grab random things from the already-clearly-sorted piles and pitch them into the washer all together? Now that the one stinky dish cloth which was in the 'bleach' pile was washed with a load of pyjamas, it has essentially infected the whole load and now everything reeks like stinky dish cloth."
Is there any way to put that nicely? He scratches his head over the water bill every month and not so jokingly blames my long showers but I honestly think it's this whole 'gotta do the same load of laundry again' gig. Seriously, it drives me completely bananas!
I could throw him a little slack if, say, the piles weren't clearly sorted; or if I hadn't explained numerous times the importance of pile sorting and keeping like items together (jeans with jeans, towels with towels, or perhaps, stinky dish cloths with stinky dish cloths); or if the cost of water and the price to heat it wasn't an issue. But come on!!! We've been over this before.
For the most part I'm very lucky that Craig is so completely normal and wonderful and loving and totally into being a Dad and just, ahhh, now I'm feeling all mushy... I hate laundry. It seriously is the bane of my existence. The absolute last thing I want to do on this entire earth (including eating fermented squid guts and taking out the compost - in that order) is to do the same load of laundry twice. No kidding!
"I appreciate you taking the initiative to throw in a load of laundry. How is it possible that you can grab random things from the already-clearly-sorted piles and pitch them into the washer all together? Now that the one stinky dish cloth which was in the 'bleach' pile was washed with a load of pyjamas, it has essentially infected the whole load and now everything reeks like stinky dish cloth."
Is there any way to put that nicely? He scratches his head over the water bill every month and not so jokingly blames my long showers but I honestly think it's this whole 'gotta do the same load of laundry again' gig. Seriously, it drives me completely bananas!
I could throw him a little slack if, say, the piles weren't clearly sorted; or if I hadn't explained numerous times the importance of pile sorting and keeping like items together (jeans with jeans, towels with towels, or perhaps, stinky dish cloths with stinky dish cloths); or if the cost of water and the price to heat it wasn't an issue. But come on!!! We've been over this before.
For the most part I'm very lucky that Craig is so completely normal and wonderful and loving and totally into being a Dad and just, ahhh, now I'm feeling all mushy... I hate laundry. It seriously is the bane of my existence. The absolute last thing I want to do on this entire earth (including eating fermented squid guts and taking out the compost - in that order) is to do the same load of laundry twice. No kidding!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Smarty Pants
You know, I don't want to brag. Ahhh, who am I kidding? Of course I want to brag! Isn't that basically the whole point of a blog? Among it being a place to vent, ask for advice, update; but I'm gonna brag today.
Kyle's talking. Like, really talking. Okay, only a couple of words but seriously he's talking. He's been rattling off Mama for over a month and really meaning it. Like when I return to the room he's playing in, when I go to get him after a long nap, or when he's waiting not-so-patiently in his highchair for his meal. He's perfected Dada, too, and drops one of those in frequently.
"Kyle, who's that?"
"Dada!"
"Say hi to Daddy, Kyle."
"Da, da, da, Dada!"
I never get a Dada and Craig never gets a Mama. He means 'em, and I love it.
At 10 months Kyle can wave. Even when no one prompts him he'll get his little hand going; opening and shutting. Sometimes if the person is extra special he'll use two hands. Tonight as I was tucking the Bigs into bed I had Kyle in my arms and we were backing out of the room as I was saying Goodnight. Kyle came out with Bah-Bah, and waved. We've heard him use Bah or Buh before and it's often when we're referring to Beaner or Boo-Boo (our enormously huge and very friendly cat).
A couple of days ago, though, Kyle and I were saying goodbye to Craig at the door before he left for work and, I kid you not, Kyle said, "Dada, bah."
I looked at Craig, he looked at me, and we both said, "No way!". I'm beginning to believe we really heard what we both though we heard.
Kyle's also been attempting to say, Shaun. All we get out of him is a hisssss right now but it's consistently when we're talking about Shaun and saying Shaun's name to Kyle. Ian calls Shaun, Saun, so I think that may be where Kyle's connecting the ssss sound with Shaun's name.
I don't remember the other boys figuring out all this language so young. It must be that Kyle hears noise and talking from one person or another all day long. Every single waking moment there's someone around him who's speaking; either to him directly or to another person. I sing songs to the children every single day and read them countless stories. We play goofy little rhyming games and fingerplays with one another and Kyle is usually around for all of those. I guess it's all paying off!
Also, Kyle's crawling. As of November 9 (so I'm a tad behind) something sort of clicked in his head and he figured out how to co-ordinate all his extremities and that was the beginning of the end. I hadn't been encouraging him to crawl at all. In fact, often when I'd see he was up on all fours and rocking like nobody's business, I'd plunk him back on his bum and distract him with toys. The way I see it, he'll learn to crawl and walk eventually. No kid enters Kindergarten not being able to walk but many go into Kindergarten not being able to speak clearly and be understood. We've always focused more on the language and intellectual side first with our boys and let the gross motor come naturally. But this night he was determined to get something from the bath toy basket in the main bathroom and he was off. Once he realized what he'd done, it was all over. He was crawling all over the place only half an hour later. It was truly a sight and Shaun was in heaven! (Background: Shaun's been saying for months that he can't wait until Kyle can crawl so they can play together. He must forget how much of a pain it is to have his baby brother trying to get everything he's playing with!)
So that's the end of my brag session. Kyle's humongous and smiley and smart. He's an amazing napper, sleeps 12 straight hours at night and adjusts to pretty much any damn thing we need him to. Stay up until 11 because we're visiting family in Toronto? Sure. Skip a nap because his cousin wants to play? Absolutely. Wear mittens for a whole hour? No problem. Fall asleep without his suckie? Okay, that's where he draws the line. Stupid suckie. I lost one today on the walk to get Shaun at school so I only have one left. I can't find the identical soother ANYWHERE (believe me, I've checked EVERYWHERE) and he only accepts the one specific kind. Again, believe me, I've tried other kinds and he wants nothing to do with them. *sigh* Oh well. If that's the only thing that makes him cry, I'll take it!
Kyle's talking. Like, really talking. Okay, only a couple of words but seriously he's talking. He's been rattling off Mama for over a month and really meaning it. Like when I return to the room he's playing in, when I go to get him after a long nap, or when he's waiting not-so-patiently in his highchair for his meal. He's perfected Dada, too, and drops one of those in frequently.
"Kyle, who's that?"
"Dada!"
"Say hi to Daddy, Kyle."
"Da, da, da, Dada!"
I never get a Dada and Craig never gets a Mama. He means 'em, and I love it.
At 10 months Kyle can wave. Even when no one prompts him he'll get his little hand going; opening and shutting. Sometimes if the person is extra special he'll use two hands. Tonight as I was tucking the Bigs into bed I had Kyle in my arms and we were backing out of the room as I was saying Goodnight. Kyle came out with Bah-Bah, and waved. We've heard him use Bah or Buh before and it's often when we're referring to Beaner or Boo-Boo (our enormously huge and very friendly cat).
A couple of days ago, though, Kyle and I were saying goodbye to Craig at the door before he left for work and, I kid you not, Kyle said, "Dada, bah."
I looked at Craig, he looked at me, and we both said, "No way!". I'm beginning to believe we really heard what we both though we heard.
Kyle's also been attempting to say, Shaun. All we get out of him is a hisssss right now but it's consistently when we're talking about Shaun and saying Shaun's name to Kyle. Ian calls Shaun, Saun, so I think that may be where Kyle's connecting the ssss sound with Shaun's name.
I don't remember the other boys figuring out all this language so young. It must be that Kyle hears noise and talking from one person or another all day long. Every single waking moment there's someone around him who's speaking; either to him directly or to another person. I sing songs to the children every single day and read them countless stories. We play goofy little rhyming games and fingerplays with one another and Kyle is usually around for all of those. I guess it's all paying off!
Also, Kyle's crawling. As of November 9 (so I'm a tad behind) something sort of clicked in his head and he figured out how to co-ordinate all his extremities and that was the beginning of the end. I hadn't been encouraging him to crawl at all. In fact, often when I'd see he was up on all fours and rocking like nobody's business, I'd plunk him back on his bum and distract him with toys. The way I see it, he'll learn to crawl and walk eventually. No kid enters Kindergarten not being able to walk but many go into Kindergarten not being able to speak clearly and be understood. We've always focused more on the language and intellectual side first with our boys and let the gross motor come naturally. But this night he was determined to get something from the bath toy basket in the main bathroom and he was off. Once he realized what he'd done, it was all over. He was crawling all over the place only half an hour later. It was truly a sight and Shaun was in heaven! (Background: Shaun's been saying for months that he can't wait until Kyle can crawl so they can play together. He must forget how much of a pain it is to have his baby brother trying to get everything he's playing with!)
So that's the end of my brag session. Kyle's humongous and smiley and smart. He's an amazing napper, sleeps 12 straight hours at night and adjusts to pretty much any damn thing we need him to. Stay up until 11 because we're visiting family in Toronto? Sure. Skip a nap because his cousin wants to play? Absolutely. Wear mittens for a whole hour? No problem. Fall asleep without his suckie? Okay, that's where he draws the line. Stupid suckie. I lost one today on the walk to get Shaun at school so I only have one left. I can't find the identical soother ANYWHERE (believe me, I've checked EVERYWHERE) and he only accepts the one specific kind. Again, believe me, I've tried other kinds and he wants nothing to do with them. *sigh* Oh well. If that's the only thing that makes him cry, I'll take it!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
It Ain't Right
One of the biggest disadvantages of being a family of 5 is that the world is built for a family of 4.
Hotel room? Sure. 2 adults, 2 kids... oh, you have 3 kids. Ummm, that'll be an extra charge.
Table for 4? Oh, you're 5? Ummm, you'll have to wait for a table. Sorry.
Vacation to Disney? Absolutely. Oh, it will cost extra for a third child. Our packages are only for 2 adults and 2 kids.
What really jerks my chain is that the divorce rate is right around 50% for North America so do the families with only 1 adult get a discount? Not a chance! It's just stupid and it's really starting to tick me off. Once Kyle reaches 1 year old he will officially count as an extra body in our hotel rooms. Really. Stupid.
What got me on this soap box is the fact that we have outgrown our kitchen table. Craig and I bought it years ago out of the Pennysaver (before Kijiji or Facebook even existed) when we were still a family of 2. It's a beautiful solid oak pedestal table with 2 leaves and 4 matching oak arm chairs. That's all fine and dandy as long as you're only entertaining 2 people at a time or if you're only a family of 4. Now that we have 5 kids we need to expand and a table that seats 6 just isn't going to cut it. What? Are we going to have only one person over at a time?
"Sorry Aunt Bertha. It's Uncle Herbert's turn this Christmas. You can come next year."
I'm campaigning for a table that seats 8. But not just any ol' table. It can't be pub style. It seems SO many 8-seaters are pub style. SO impractical for those with kids. I hate them. It has to be harvest style, so no pedestal. It must have leaves for it so I can expand it to seat at least 10; maybe 12 in a pinch. No veneered tops. They chip and peel away and just look generally ugly within 10 years of purchase. We have waaaaay more than 10 years with kids in the house. AND it can't come with chairs. Seriously. I have this grand idea of a table with mismatched chairs seated around it. We have a dining room that isn't used for it's intended purpose so the kitchen table is where we eat. Who wants a formal dining set in their kitchen? I figure a nice table plus mismatched chairs will equal shabby chic. Yes?
Anyway, do you think I can find a table that matches my specific requirements? Yeah, and Kyle changes his own diaper and my dishes washed themselves this afternoon and Craig put a remote control on the lawn rake and pigs fly.
Hotel room? Sure. 2 adults, 2 kids... oh, you have 3 kids. Ummm, that'll be an extra charge.
Table for 4? Oh, you're 5? Ummm, you'll have to wait for a table. Sorry.
Vacation to Disney? Absolutely. Oh, it will cost extra for a third child. Our packages are only for 2 adults and 2 kids.
What really jerks my chain is that the divorce rate is right around 50% for North America so do the families with only 1 adult get a discount? Not a chance! It's just stupid and it's really starting to tick me off. Once Kyle reaches 1 year old he will officially count as an extra body in our hotel rooms. Really. Stupid.
What got me on this soap box is the fact that we have outgrown our kitchen table. Craig and I bought it years ago out of the Pennysaver (before Kijiji or Facebook even existed) when we were still a family of 2. It's a beautiful solid oak pedestal table with 2 leaves and 4 matching oak arm chairs. That's all fine and dandy as long as you're only entertaining 2 people at a time or if you're only a family of 4. Now that we have 5 kids we need to expand and a table that seats 6 just isn't going to cut it. What? Are we going to have only one person over at a time?
"Sorry Aunt Bertha. It's Uncle Herbert's turn this Christmas. You can come next year."
I'm campaigning for a table that seats 8. But not just any ol' table. It can't be pub style. It seems SO many 8-seaters are pub style. SO impractical for those with kids. I hate them. It has to be harvest style, so no pedestal. It must have leaves for it so I can expand it to seat at least 10; maybe 12 in a pinch. No veneered tops. They chip and peel away and just look generally ugly within 10 years of purchase. We have waaaaay more than 10 years with kids in the house. AND it can't come with chairs. Seriously. I have this grand idea of a table with mismatched chairs seated around it. We have a dining room that isn't used for it's intended purpose so the kitchen table is where we eat. Who wants a formal dining set in their kitchen? I figure a nice table plus mismatched chairs will equal shabby chic. Yes?
Anyway, do you think I can find a table that matches my specific requirements? Yeah, and Kyle changes his own diaper and my dishes washed themselves this afternoon and Craig put a remote control on the lawn rake and pigs fly.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Garbie No More
Craig and I had started calling Shaun, Garbie, because of his garbage bag arm when he'd have a bath. Well, he got the cast removed this morning so I guess we'll have to go back to calling him Boogie. He's been keeping his arm bent at the 90' angle just like when he had it in the cast and the doctor said no bike riding or climbing for a few days, but the bone is completely healed. I think the cast became a bit of a security blanket for Shaun because he was crying, yes crying, this morning while getting ready to head to the hospital with Craig. As a consolation prize, he got to keep his cast. He's asked us to hang it on his wall like a trophy. What is with this kid?!
His arm was all thin-looking (I don't think it shrunk in only 4 weeks but I've gotten so used to seeing it larger-than-life because of the cast that it was a little alarming to see how tiny it really is) and the skin was flaking when I picked him up from school this afternoon.
The doctor said Shaun should regain the full range of motion within a week and to call if we have any concerns. I know a little guy who had the same exact break as Shaun and he can't even bend his elbow to 90' post cast even though it was cast at that angle. He's been referred to some specialists at another hospital and they're looking at surgery to help him regain some motion. I hope it doesn't come to that with Shaun.
His arm was all thin-looking (I don't think it shrunk in only 4 weeks but I've gotten so used to seeing it larger-than-life because of the cast that it was a little alarming to see how tiny it really is) and the skin was flaking when I picked him up from school this afternoon.
The doctor said Shaun should regain the full range of motion within a week and to call if we have any concerns. I know a little guy who had the same exact break as Shaun and he can't even bend his elbow to 90' post cast even though it was cast at that angle. He's been referred to some specialists at another hospital and they're looking at surgery to help him regain some motion. I hope it doesn't come to that with Shaun.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Two More Sleeps
So I don't understand enough about Blogger to be able to mess with the margins to make this collage fit but if you click on the collage itself you should be able to follow it back to Photobucket where you'll be able to see the whole thing.
Two more sleeps until Shaun gets his cast off and an x-ray of his arm. I'd like to think it's healed enough that he can get the cast completely removed but if necessary, they'll recast him for another 3 weeks.
Moment
Bicycles in the driveway... CHECK
Dirty knees on pants... CHECK
Dishes in the sink... and on the counter... and spilling out of the dishwasher... CHECK
Piles of laundry throughout the house... CHECK
Stack of library books on Ian's bed... CHECK
Empty hangers in closet and coats on floor... CHECK
Late bedtime because I was spending too much time enjoying my boys... CHECK
Time flies when you're having fun - really! I'm learning to live in the moment and accept that things in my life will not always be perfect. Things are so much clearer as I'm watching my boys grow up.
Dirty knees on pants... CHECK
Dishes in the sink... and on the counter... and spilling out of the dishwasher... CHECK
Piles of laundry throughout the house... CHECK
Stack of library books on Ian's bed... CHECK
Empty hangers in closet and coats on floor... CHECK
Late bedtime because I was spending too much time enjoying my boys... CHECK
Time flies when you're having fun - really! I'm learning to live in the moment and accept that things in my life will not always be perfect. Things are so much clearer as I'm watching my boys grow up.
Friday, November 5, 2010
My Circus
I pull out of the driveway and the whining and complaining starts. The clock is closing in on 5:30 and no one has eaten yet. Kyle ditches his suckie on the floor of the van which is already littered with dead raisins, smooshed granola bars, juice box straws and Little Critter books. Great, I think, we're off to a great start. I'd better feed this side show before I do the groceries or I'll never get out of there alive; and neither will they. It's not like I have a big shop to do. Enough to get us through the weekend and maybe Monday; some milk and cheese and oatmeal and fruit for Shaun's school snack. Half an hour -- tops.
"Hold my hand or hold Shaun's," I tell Ian.
"No Mom, Ian's walk by self. No hold Saun's hand."
"Shaun, hold your brother's hand please." The diaper bag is stuffed with my whole life and slung over my shoulder. I can't turn too quickly or it'll slide off and dump all the contents on the wet pavement in the parking lot. Kyle is dripping off my hip and I struggle to readjust him with my only free leg. Ian is drifting further into the cars' driving aisle as we walk towards the grocery store entrance. Shaun offers Ian his hand.
"No Saun, no hold hands. Ian's walk by self." He walks a little quicker and I shout to Shaun to keep up because we're crossing the main freeway of the parking lot. Ian's leading, I'm struggling with Kyle who I'm now holding by his waist; his legs dangling behind me. Shaun is bringing up the rear, commenting on the Ironman mask on display for the 184th time.
"Here, let's take a cart." Kyle is quickly buckled in and I realize I didn't dig his suckie off the van floor. Crap. I'll have to go back. There's no way he'll last without it. I jam Ian into the seat, kicking and screaming he wants to walk, and Shaun climbs into the front. Whatever. It'll be quicker this way.
Back to the van we go.
"Weeeeeeee! I like riding in the cart, Mom!"
"No Mom! Ian's ride wit Saun in tart. Ian's no sit wit Tiyo."
"Enough Ian, it's not for long. We just have to get back to the van so I can grab Kyle's suckie. You can walk when we get back inside."
This explanation seems to satisfy Ian and he sits quietly, only commenting on a blue car here or a big bird there. When we get to the van I dig through the stickiness on the floor of the van. I really need to vacuum this thing, I've been telling myself for months it needs to be done. On my next day off. I feel my hand close on his suckie and I pull it up. Hmm, raisins don't go bad, do they? I pull off the raisin and blow off the hair and clip the suckie back to Kyle's coat. He smiles and maneuvers it into his mouth.
Close the door, lock it. Back into the grocery store we go.
"Weeeeeeeee! Hey Mom, can I ride in the cart all the time? This is really fun and my legs don't get sore from walking. Oh look, the Ironman mask. I'm going to save my allowance and buy that mask Mom. It costs fifty dollars and I've counted -- I have almost ten dollars. So maybe in 10 more weeks I'll have fifty dollars. Do you know what I'm going to buy after the Ironman mask?"
I'm steering the rattling cart in between shoppers pushing carts laden with bags brimming with groceries. When we get to the other side of the store where the hot deli is Shaun hops out and points to a piece of chicken schnitzel. I ask the blonde teen behind the counter for the schnitzel and he places it in a small paper box and hands it to me. I grab a salad and a bento box of sushi and stand in line to pay. Kyle has forgotten about his suckie and is turning around trying to grab the box of sushi. Ian is crying that he wants pizza. Shaun is gone; running ahead to the eating area.
We always eat at the same table. It's right beside the garbage can, just on the other side of the wall from the microwave so I can warm Kyle's food and supervise the side show, and is at the end of the aisle so the cart can park beside us and contain all our gear. As I round the corner I notice there's someone sitting at our table and Shaun is talking to her.
"...and we usually sit here. My Mom needs this table for me and my brothers."
"Hi. No, please don't move. We're fine. Here Shaun, let's sit at the next table. There's plenty of room and the cart doesn't have to be right beside us." I start to unload the Littles while Shaun makes himself comfortable. Everyone is hungry and whining. Kyle is frantically gnawing on the edge of the table from his highchair. I toss his container of leftover spaghetti into the microwave and smile at the woman as I walk past. It's okay, I tell myself, it's only a few feet further. No worries. Kyle is hyperventilating; he's so desperate to eat. Geez, when did he eat last? Three something? I'm sure he had some yogurt a couple of hours ago.
"Ding, Mom. Tiyo's food's ready!"
I hear the microwave beeping over Kyle's frantic whining and rush to finish cutting the schnitzel and mix the salad before pulling the sizzling pureed spaghetti out. Kyle sees his dish and goes mental. At least the Bigs have their food. I try desperately to offer Kyle his suckie while I huff and puff on his food. He's completely insulted and is determined to let me know.
Eventually we all get the chance to eat. I learn that Ian loves sushi.
Kyle barfs all down his one and only shirt after gulping water and having it fall down the wrong hole. Ohmygawdwhatamess. Why oh why didn't I pack extra clothes for Kyle? All I have is a size 2 long sleeve t-shirt for Ian. It'll have to do and I roll up the sleeves after tugging it onto Kyle's round head.
We're quite the sight collecting our garbage that has been strewn across 4 small round tables. There's a fair buffet under Kyle's highchair, complete with a side of spaghetti barf. Thank goodness for a slew of shea butter scented diaper wipes and a stash of Lysol wipes in the diaper bag. The table's good as new. The floor will have to wait for a broom and dustpan and a mop.
In the produce section Shaun keeps Ian entertained by dancing and singing the Spiderman theme song and pretending to sling webs and swing on them. It's quite the show until Ian shouts, "Ian's have poo Mom! Poo's comin' now, Mom!"
I'm immediately on overdrive. I toss the cauliflower into the cart, tell Shaun we need to leave right now and start trotting to the closest washroom, all while pushing the cart carrying Ian and supporting Kyle who's nestled against my chest in the wrap. The rent-a-cop at the main doors chuckles and says something about my being back so soon. I ignore him, yank Ian out of the cart and ask Shaun to crab the diaper bag and follow me.
"Ian's wants push button," he whines. There's an automatic door going into the washroom for wheelchair use. If there's poo in his pants I'm going to lose my mind. I let him push the button anyway and we wait the painfully slow 4 seconds for the door to open before rushing in and piling into the tiny stall. Ian's breathing deeply now so I know he's anxious.
"Mom, I don't need to go into the toilet room, okay? I'll stand right here. Or maybe I'll just wait outside the bathroom. Actually I do need to pee. I'll go to the bathroom beside this one. It's the one with a boy on the door and you're not allowed in there because you're not a boy. You're a girl because you have a -"
"That's enough, Shaun." I interrupt him just in time. "Choose your stall. You're staying in the washroom."
Ian's having success on the toilet. Only Kyle is uncomfortable because I'm kneeling and his head is dangling out of the wrap. He adjusts his suckie and sighs.
Once we're back out in the grocery store, Shaun is wired and bouncing all over the place. He crashes into the first display we come to. He's not hurt but is embarassed and pouts for the next 10 minutes. Eventually he perks up and he and Ian are back to being goofy. By now Kyle is starting to doze and I'm done with this grocery business. Half an hour - ha! Who was I kidding?! Only myself apparently because it's been an hour an a half since I first pulled into my parking space and I'm only now walking back to the front of the store to the check--
SMASH! "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Shaun's bouncing has earned him a nice goose egg on his forehead, courtesy of a Campbell's soup display. I'm stunned. Shaun's sobbing. Ian's picking his nose. Kyle's snoring.
I pile our few items onto the conveyor belt. Milk, apples, chicken breasts, broccoli.
"Uh oh Mom." Three words a mother never wants to hear from her 2 year old. "Ian's made big mess. Ian's sorry Mom."
He's holding a white lid in his right hand and an empty cranberry juice single serve in the other. The cranberry juice is dripping off our coats below where Ian is sitting and pooling on the white floor in a sticky puddle.
"Mooooooommmmmmm, that's MY juice! I was saving that for tomorrow when I have breakfast. I was going to have Kellogg's Frosted Flakes and milk. Did you know 'they're grrrreat'? That's Tony the Tiger who says that. Do you remember seeing tigers at the zoo Mom? It was so hot that day and they were hiding under the trees but we still saw them..."
All I can do is hang my head and apologize to the cashier. Me and my circus. My barfy, poopy, head-bangin', juice spillin' side show. Admission is free. Bring extra clothes and Tylenol.
"Hold my hand or hold Shaun's," I tell Ian.
"No Mom, Ian's walk by self. No hold Saun's hand."
"Shaun, hold your brother's hand please." The diaper bag is stuffed with my whole life and slung over my shoulder. I can't turn too quickly or it'll slide off and dump all the contents on the wet pavement in the parking lot. Kyle is dripping off my hip and I struggle to readjust him with my only free leg. Ian is drifting further into the cars' driving aisle as we walk towards the grocery store entrance. Shaun offers Ian his hand.
"No Saun, no hold hands. Ian's walk by self." He walks a little quicker and I shout to Shaun to keep up because we're crossing the main freeway of the parking lot. Ian's leading, I'm struggling with Kyle who I'm now holding by his waist; his legs dangling behind me. Shaun is bringing up the rear, commenting on the Ironman mask on display for the 184th time.
"Here, let's take a cart." Kyle is quickly buckled in and I realize I didn't dig his suckie off the van floor. Crap. I'll have to go back. There's no way he'll last without it. I jam Ian into the seat, kicking and screaming he wants to walk, and Shaun climbs into the front. Whatever. It'll be quicker this way.
Back to the van we go.
"Weeeeeeee! I like riding in the cart, Mom!"
"No Mom! Ian's ride wit Saun in tart. Ian's no sit wit Tiyo."
"Enough Ian, it's not for long. We just have to get back to the van so I can grab Kyle's suckie. You can walk when we get back inside."
This explanation seems to satisfy Ian and he sits quietly, only commenting on a blue car here or a big bird there. When we get to the van I dig through the stickiness on the floor of the van. I really need to vacuum this thing, I've been telling myself for months it needs to be done. On my next day off. I feel my hand close on his suckie and I pull it up. Hmm, raisins don't go bad, do they? I pull off the raisin and blow off the hair and clip the suckie back to Kyle's coat. He smiles and maneuvers it into his mouth.
Close the door, lock it. Back into the grocery store we go.
"Weeeeeeeee! Hey Mom, can I ride in the cart all the time? This is really fun and my legs don't get sore from walking. Oh look, the Ironman mask. I'm going to save my allowance and buy that mask Mom. It costs fifty dollars and I've counted -- I have almost ten dollars. So maybe in 10 more weeks I'll have fifty dollars. Do you know what I'm going to buy after the Ironman mask?"
I'm steering the rattling cart in between shoppers pushing carts laden with bags brimming with groceries. When we get to the other side of the store where the hot deli is Shaun hops out and points to a piece of chicken schnitzel. I ask the blonde teen behind the counter for the schnitzel and he places it in a small paper box and hands it to me. I grab a salad and a bento box of sushi and stand in line to pay. Kyle has forgotten about his suckie and is turning around trying to grab the box of sushi. Ian is crying that he wants pizza. Shaun is gone; running ahead to the eating area.
We always eat at the same table. It's right beside the garbage can, just on the other side of the wall from the microwave so I can warm Kyle's food and supervise the side show, and is at the end of the aisle so the cart can park beside us and contain all our gear. As I round the corner I notice there's someone sitting at our table and Shaun is talking to her.
"...and we usually sit here. My Mom needs this table for me and my brothers."
"Hi. No, please don't move. We're fine. Here Shaun, let's sit at the next table. There's plenty of room and the cart doesn't have to be right beside us." I start to unload the Littles while Shaun makes himself comfortable. Everyone is hungry and whining. Kyle is frantically gnawing on the edge of the table from his highchair. I toss his container of leftover spaghetti into the microwave and smile at the woman as I walk past. It's okay, I tell myself, it's only a few feet further. No worries. Kyle is hyperventilating; he's so desperate to eat. Geez, when did he eat last? Three something? I'm sure he had some yogurt a couple of hours ago.
"Ding, Mom. Tiyo's food's ready!"
I hear the microwave beeping over Kyle's frantic whining and rush to finish cutting the schnitzel and mix the salad before pulling the sizzling pureed spaghetti out. Kyle sees his dish and goes mental. At least the Bigs have their food. I try desperately to offer Kyle his suckie while I huff and puff on his food. He's completely insulted and is determined to let me know.
Eventually we all get the chance to eat. I learn that Ian loves sushi.
Kyle barfs all down his one and only shirt after gulping water and having it fall down the wrong hole. Ohmygawdwhatamess. Why oh why didn't I pack extra clothes for Kyle? All I have is a size 2 long sleeve t-shirt for Ian. It'll have to do and I roll up the sleeves after tugging it onto Kyle's round head.
We're quite the sight collecting our garbage that has been strewn across 4 small round tables. There's a fair buffet under Kyle's highchair, complete with a side of spaghetti barf. Thank goodness for a slew of shea butter scented diaper wipes and a stash of Lysol wipes in the diaper bag. The table's good as new. The floor will have to wait for a broom and dustpan and a mop.
In the produce section Shaun keeps Ian entertained by dancing and singing the Spiderman theme song and pretending to sling webs and swing on them. It's quite the show until Ian shouts, "Ian's have poo Mom! Poo's comin' now, Mom!"
I'm immediately on overdrive. I toss the cauliflower into the cart, tell Shaun we need to leave right now and start trotting to the closest washroom, all while pushing the cart carrying Ian and supporting Kyle who's nestled against my chest in the wrap. The rent-a-cop at the main doors chuckles and says something about my being back so soon. I ignore him, yank Ian out of the cart and ask Shaun to crab the diaper bag and follow me.
"Ian's wants push button," he whines. There's an automatic door going into the washroom for wheelchair use. If there's poo in his pants I'm going to lose my mind. I let him push the button anyway and we wait the painfully slow 4 seconds for the door to open before rushing in and piling into the tiny stall. Ian's breathing deeply now so I know he's anxious.
"Mom, I don't need to go into the toilet room, okay? I'll stand right here. Or maybe I'll just wait outside the bathroom. Actually I do need to pee. I'll go to the bathroom beside this one. It's the one with a boy on the door and you're not allowed in there because you're not a boy. You're a girl because you have a -"
"That's enough, Shaun." I interrupt him just in time. "Choose your stall. You're staying in the washroom."
Ian's having success on the toilet. Only Kyle is uncomfortable because I'm kneeling and his head is dangling out of the wrap. He adjusts his suckie and sighs.
Once we're back out in the grocery store, Shaun is wired and bouncing all over the place. He crashes into the first display we come to. He's not hurt but is embarassed and pouts for the next 10 minutes. Eventually he perks up and he and Ian are back to being goofy. By now Kyle is starting to doze and I'm done with this grocery business. Half an hour - ha! Who was I kidding?! Only myself apparently because it's been an hour an a half since I first pulled into my parking space and I'm only now walking back to the front of the store to the check--
SMASH! "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Shaun's bouncing has earned him a nice goose egg on his forehead, courtesy of a Campbell's soup display. I'm stunned. Shaun's sobbing. Ian's picking his nose. Kyle's snoring.
I pile our few items onto the conveyor belt. Milk, apples, chicken breasts, broccoli.
"Uh oh Mom." Three words a mother never wants to hear from her 2 year old. "Ian's made big mess. Ian's sorry Mom."
He's holding a white lid in his right hand and an empty cranberry juice single serve in the other. The cranberry juice is dripping off our coats below where Ian is sitting and pooling on the white floor in a sticky puddle.
"Mooooooommmmmmm, that's MY juice! I was saving that for tomorrow when I have breakfast. I was going to have Kellogg's Frosted Flakes and milk. Did you know 'they're grrrreat'? That's Tony the Tiger who says that. Do you remember seeing tigers at the zoo Mom? It was so hot that day and they were hiding under the trees but we still saw them..."
All I can do is hang my head and apologize to the cashier. Me and my circus. My barfy, poopy, head-bangin', juice spillin' side show. Admission is free. Bring extra clothes and Tylenol.
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