Reflections on the long weekend

This past weekend was a long weekend here in Canada, with Monday being Labour Day. We all had a day off, so we tried to make the most of it while we had some sunshine.

I learn new things about myself as a parent and about my little L every day, but this weekend was full of new discoveries for both of us. I thought I’d take some time to reflect back on the weekend and share my findings with all of you.

– We woke up Saturday morning to a house that was a disaster. Monday to Friday for us goes by in kind of a blur, and then Saturday is when I usually try my best to play “catch up” on the tidiness of the house. So when people come by on a Saturday unexpectedly, it sends me into a mild panic attack. I mean, God only knows what must go through their minds as they step through our landmine toy covered living room floor, and see days worth of dishes piled up. Uggh. So realization number one for me is that I must find a way to get more energy so that I can keep up with the house better.  I don’t want to feel like a housewife failure before I’m even officially a wife.

It also made me realize that I hate those people who are all “Oh excuse the mess” when you walk into their perfectly tidy and clean house. I kind of want to punch them for making me feel even more inadequate lol.

– Late Saturday afternoon/evening we started the drive to my fiance’s father’s house which is 45min-1hour away. (Yes American friends, us Canadians tend to measure distance to get places by time rather than miles/kilometers. So if you ask me how far away does my Mother live, I will respond “Oh about 15-20 minutes away give or take with traffic”). We packed up the car, and started the drive which actually was pretty easy. We got to his Dad’s and had a ham dinner waiting for us which L devoured. L loves ham!

– That evening while out playing in the yard with the dog, L saw her very first toad! It was a pretty big guy, and he hopped around the driveway. L followed him along his way while happily saying “Hop, Hop, Hop” as she hopped with him. She thought it was a frog, and I called it a frog, too because I didn’t want to ruin her excitement at seeing him. I tried to catch it to give L a closer look, but C thought I was crazy because “it’s just going to immediately pee on you and excrete toad juices all over your hands!”. I caught toads all the time when I was a kid, so I thought nothing of it. He was too fast for me, though. I guess I’m brave when it comes to catching toads, but not when it comes to many other things.

– I discovered that both L and I do not do well sleeping at other people’s houses. (The fact that I forgot my medication probably didn’t help at all). She went to bed two hours past her bedtime and was too afraid to go in a strange room by herself, so we let her fall asleep on the couch then transferred her in. When she woke up screaming and afraid at 130am, she and I co-slept till about 330am.

PROPS TO ALL YOU CO-SLEEPERS OUT THERE! Holy mother of eff, that is not something I ever hope to have to do again! I was punched in the eye, kneed in the throat, kicked in the groin, arm-slapped across the face and drooled on.Yeah. I didn’t sleep. I maybe got 3 hours of sleep that night.

– The next morning we explored Grampy’s yard and L picked blueberries and blackberries straight from the bushes and ate more than I thought humanly possible. Berries do taste best straight from the bushes, though. When the rain started we had to go inside. We were caught in a SEVERE thunderstorm warning. The thunder was so strong, that when I went to pee it actually shook the toilet I was sitting on (though C’s Dad claims it wasn’t the thunder shaking the toilet – ha ha ha). We lost power a couple of times, and a house in the local area actually was struck by lightning and caught fire. We had to wait out the storm for a couple of hours before we could drive home, because visibility was next to nothing with the torrential downpours of rain.

I learned though that L is not afraid of thunderstorms at all! If anything, she was more pissed off at Mother Nature for ruining her day and stopping her blackberry feast. She’s just like her Mama – bring on the storms!

– I caught L “reading” to herself for 30 minutes straight to a book that doesn’t have a single picture in it. Imagine my surprise (and pure glee) when I saw she was trying to read the Deathly Hallows. Like Mother, like daughter. She may turn out alright, yet.

I wish I had more long weekends with my C and my L. It really makes me realize how quickly time is passing, and how much I’m afraid I’m going to miss as she grows up.

Did you have a long weekend? How was it spent?

 

For the love of your kids – cut open your juice boxes!

Doing a re-post of an oldie, because I still feel quite strongly about the subject, and really do hope that it helps parents become aware of the potential health hazard that could be hiding in their juice box.
Spread the word WordPress family – Cut open those juice boxes!

How To Ruin A Toddler's Day

This happened to me a few months ago, but I didn’t have a blog then so I’m posting about it now. Please feel free to share or re-blog to spread the word!

Juice boxes. A lot of Moms and Dads buy them. They are super convenient for when you’re on the go. Just take that straw, jab it in the little tinfoil perforation area, hand it over and you’ve got a happy kid. A happy kid, yes, but potentially a sick one.

I am lucky enough that my mother watches little L every day while I work. We do the usual routine – I bring her to Gramma’s, we get a snack ready together, give a big hug and a kiss goodbye and I’m off to work.

It was just a regular Monday, so we arrived at Gramma’s. We started getting the snack ready. We had one juice box left…

View original post 357 more words

Quick! Look to your right! I have a facebook “like” button!

Yes that’s right. I have caved and started a How to Ruin a Toddler’s Day Facebook page.

 

I will be putting some quick little things up there that are different from my blog, so please like it, share it , and spread the love!

 

Does your blog have a Facebook page? Leave a comment or a note on my Facebook page, and I’ll be sure to spread the love and like back! 🙂

 

Driven to insanity: The worst of the worst kids television shows

The things we do for our kids. The things we watch for our kids.

Some of the TV shows we subject ourselves to are enough to drive even the most sane of individuals into voluntarily seeking a 72 hour psychiatric hold. Some of these shows are so bad, that they drive me to the brink of a meltdown. If I end up going nuts from watching these shows, can I really be held accountable? I find it hard to believe that some people are actually paid to come up with some of the shit that is put out there for kids to watch nowadays.

Kids shows used to be good! For example, the Strawberry Shortcake of yesteryear was actually good. There were bad guys: The Peculiar Purple Pieman and Sour Grapes! Now, there are no bad guys. Just animated sweetness that my kid is OBSESSED WITH! Every day all we hear over and over again is “Cake? Cake!!!!!” as she picks up the DVD case and tries to shove it into our XBox 360 herself to make it play.

This is the Strawberry Shortcake I remember.

This is what she looks like now.

But this show, as mind numbingly repetitious as it has become to me, isn’t on my list of shows I loathe the most. Yes my friends, I have a list! Want to hear it? Well tough. You’ve made it this far, so you might as well keep reading! My top 5 list of the stupidest, most god awful, you must be on drugs to understand where this is coming from, make me want to blow my brains out kids shows is what’s on the agenda for today!

Here we go – buckle in and enjoy the ride.

5) Dora the Explorer:

Do you ever friggin’ blink?

She’s made the list for the pure fact that she creeps the hell out of me. Does this kid ever blink?! Oh wait, now I’m being insensitive. Clearly she doesn’t blink because she’s blind. It’s the only explanation for how she manages to not see that the goddamned Rainbow Mountain is RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER! Then there’s that Swiper, guy. What  is up with that? If stopping someone from stealing your things/mugging you were as easy as repeating over and over and over again “Swiper, no swiping!” then the world would have a lot less crime in it. Oh and her map? That creepy map that leaps out at the screen? That makes my kid cry every single time. It’s gotten to the point that she now knows that it’s coming, and will turn away or run from the room. That says enough on its own.

4) Yo Gabba Gabba:

Why is there a one-eyed dildo walking around?

Every time I watch this show, I’m reminded of a little Canadian commercial that was on when I was a child. It had a catchy jingle that went like this: “Drugs, drugs, drugs. Which are good, which are bad? Drugs, drugs, drugs. Ask your Mom or ask your Dad!”. Yep. Whoever came up with this shit-show of show was definitely on the bad kind of drugs (or the good ones?). I mean, props to DJ Lance for having enough confidence in his masculinity to rock that orange jumpsuit every day. But my God, this show makes me feel like I’m in some kind of drug-induced episode of the twilight zone. And what kind of creatures are these things supposed to be anyway? There’s the cat looking one, the flower looking one, the robot, the monster under the bed, and the dildo? Come on, you thought the same thing. There’s no way that knobby red thing isn’t supposed to represent a “bumpy, for her pleasure” hand held pleasuring device. Who writes this stuff?

3) Bubble Guppies:

Poor little ginger guppy.

The Bubble Guppies. These guys make the list for a few reasons. For one, they have the most ANNOYING SONGS EVER! For two, I always find myself feeling bad for the Ginger guppy. Ever notice that he’s NEVER happy? Even in this pic – not smiling. Also, nine times out of ten he’s the kid who gets the shitty lunch. Not cool, Bubble Guppies, not cool. Plus, the whole show is nothing but scientific impossibilities! A Bubble puppy? Fail. Having the sun, and sky, and stars, under water with them? Fail. Having other creatures under water with them who are magically able to breathe? Fail. I really hate this show.

2) Max and Ruby:

I found this pic online and thought, yup, that about sums it up!

Max and Ruby. Ruby and Max. Never Max and Ruby and THEIR PARENTS. Where are their parents? Grandma comes to visit once in a while, but there has to be some serious neglect going on here. I believe Ruby is supposed to be 7, and Max, 3. Who the hell lets a 7 year old babysit? No wonder Ruby is always such a bitch – she’s on a power trip! When coming up with names for my sweet L, my top two names were the one we gave her, and Ruby. Then someone told me “Ohhhh no. Go watch this show before you decide”. Thank God they did. One episode in, and my mind was made up. No way I was naming my kid after that bunny.

And my number 1 worst kids show of all time is…

1) Caillou:

I don’t normally say this about children, but I wouldn’t be sad if he showed up on a missing children’s poster.

Are you really that surprised?

This kid makes me ashamed to say I was created in the same country he was. I’ve never wanted to smack any kid before, until I watched an episode of this show. Let’s start with the theme song. You’re sick of Caillou before you even watch the show because he says his own name like 5.4 billion times in a row! Shut up, Caillou, or this Mama is going to lose it!

This kid is a prime example of bad behaviour. That kid is so friggin’ spoiled. He needs the whine whooped out of him. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day his Daddy went off to work or to fetch dinner and just never came back. Who would blame him really? His kid is a brat, and his wife wears the same goddamned clothes every day. You know that doesn’t smell too good.

Plus why is he bald at 4 years old?! The creators of the show are rumored to have said that it makes him more relatable to every kid if he is bald. Umm, nope. Fail. I don’t know many bald four year olds, unless they are sick, and I don’t think there’s ever been a “Caillou has alopecia” or “Caillou gets chemotherapy” episode. I feel awful even mentioning sick kids, because having a sick kid is NEVER funny. But neither is Caillou. Ever.

Why does he never get disciplined! If my kid was that much of a whiny ass-hat every single day, she would get a serious talking to, or a time-out, or SOMETHING. This kid – nothing. Oh and guess what? If your kid sees Caillou whine and complain and get away with it, guess what they are going to do? Whine and complain! Worst example ever! I get it, all 4 year olds have tantrums or get upset. Really there’s nobody to blame here except Caillou’s parents. Calling them enablers is the understatement of the century. Can’t wait to see the way he behaves in the teenage years.

And the narrator. Kill me now because captain obvious is about to say something AGAIN. “Caillou is sad”, “Caillou doesn’t like that Rosie got a new toy and he didn’t”, “Caillou made Mommy think about all the different ways she could kill herself”. Woops, there I go again, projecting my emotions onto an animated character. That kid is a bastard and he gets the best of me.

Yes, I just called a cartoon character a bastard. Yes, I feel that strongly about it. No, I won’t apologize for it. Needless to say, Caillou is banned from the television in my house.

So let me have it. What are the worst of the worst in your books? What kids TV shows drive you up the wall?

I’m baaaack!

That’s right folks, I’m back from vacation! I know you all missed me oh so much.

To be honest, I’m actually REALLY glad to be home. This vacation wasn’t exactly the relaxing kind. There were two toddler’s there (my own L, and her cousin who is two months older than she is), and the weather where we were wasn’t too nice. If you drove 30 minutes away from where we were staying, it was hot as balls and 30+ degrees outside. But where we were, situated right on the coast, it was foggy and dreary almost the whole time we were there, which was quite unfortunate. I’d banked on much more beach time than we actually got. In fact, the only bit of colour I got from the sun was on my left arm, through the car window as I drove home.

All in all, the trip went well. I was feeling actually quite good about L’s behaviour and reaction to being told “no” or “ta-ta” in relation to her cousin. That was until, last night. The last night we were there. The night I actually NEEDED a good nights sleep. Usually everyone else falls asleep on the ride home, and I, the driver, am left to fend for myself and stay awake for the four hour drive. It is not a scenic drive. It is the same scene around every turn – trees, trees, and more trees. Easy to get bored, and sleepy.

I have a rough time sleeping anyway. Between my restless leg syndrome and mild degeneration in my low back, I’m lucky to get a good night of slumber. Sometimes my meds help, sometimes they don’t. Last night I was having a rough time falling asleep, but I finally did. Just barely. Then I hear it from the crib beside our air mattress on the floor – the restlessness.

In the blink of an eye, the restlessness turns to blood curdling screams and body contortions. I pick her up to try and soothe her (and not wake up the rest of the house) and it actually gets worse. She wants to be held, but not touched. She wants to cuddle, but not be touched. She wants to sleep but FREAKS OUT if the light is off. It is 230am, and we are wide awake with the bedroom light on.

One full hour of inconsolable screaming. One hour of me feeling horrible, because I know the rest of the house is unable to sleep right now. I wanted to die.

At 330am, she finally consented to sit with me and look at a book. Thank God for this book, because it was my saviour at that point in the evening.

After this story, about six times in a row, she finally let me put this book along with two others into her crib. She joined the books in her crib, and read to herself for another 15 minutes, before finally falling back asleep. Total count of us wide awake with the light on? Two damn hours.

TWO DAMN HOURS!

Grand total amount of sleep I got last night? About four fucking hours. (The same amount of time it takes to drive home – coincidence?).

Then we had to deal with this when everyone woke up this morning; “So what was wrong with your kid last night?”

Your answer is as good as mine.

How To Survive A Man Cold

The hilarious Dad over at http://modernmanofthecloth.com/ wrote a post today that actually had me laughing out loud.
I’m sure you other Mama’s can relate to having to look after a man who has the dreaded, debilitating, how am I not dead yet “Man Cold”.
Take a peek, and have a laugh.

I felt it coming on Wednesday, by Thursday night I was sure. I was coming down with the dreaded  ‘rhinopharyngitis vir’. Or as it is more commonly referred to, ‘A man cold’. While it was touch and go there for a while I seem to have pulled through the worst of it.Today I am finding myself feeling more refreshed and grateful to be alive and well.

It is in that spirit that I write this blog. I want to help men everywhere deal with this dreadful illness.

Definition: The man cold is a debilitating virus that only affects the Y chromosome. Male children seem to be generally immune until they reach puberty.

Symptoms: Your head aches, your throat is scratchy, your skin feels icky, your nose is both stuffy and runny and you are running a terrifying 98.7 degree fever.

If you or your loved one has one or…

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Let’s play a game!

So next week I will be going on a mini-vacation to visit my future mother in law in a tiny tiny little town. It is a beautiful place, and her backyard is right where a gorgeous river meets the ocean. We will be a two minute walk from a beach, will be able to go canoeing, digging for clams, lounge in the sand, all in a place that is super secluded. We’ll be lucky if we see one car go by every few hours.

I’m actually pretty excited about it! Fair warning though, you may or may not hear from me from Wednesday through Sunday next week (depending on the internet connection there and whether or not I want to give up valuable beach-bum time).

So in the meantime, to celebrate me having 121 crazy followers (when did that happen!?!?) I thought we could play a “get to know me” kind of game.

So here’s what I’m thinking. The first 10-15 people to ask me any question, I will do my best to answer honestly. This could either be a very good idea, or a very very bad one, so be kind please!

Some ideas to get the ball rolling: It could be anything about parenting, myself personally, my views on a topic, etc.

Just leave a comment on the bottom of this post, and I’ll reply with the best I have to offer.

(Hoping I didn’t set myself up here lol).

 

“Will you ever say Mama? No? Do you hate me?”

My sweet little L is 20 months old.

At 9 months old, she said “Dada” for the first time. She loved saying Dada, all the time. Still does. We tried from that point on to get her to say “Mama”. She’s stubborn that one, and a little bit mean. Our conversations would go like this:

Me: “L – who is that?” (pointing at her Dad)

L: “Dada!!!!!” – with so much enthusiasm you’d think she just won the Stanley Cup.

C (fiance): “L – who is that? (pointing at me).

L: (A big devilish grin) – shakes her head “no”.

Fast forward a little bit, and they slightly changed.

Me: “L, who is that?”

L: “Dada”

Me: “What does a _______ say?” (Insert cow, dog, cat, monkey, frog, snake, duck, horse, bird, lion, etc. – she knows them all!)

L: She would answer any of the above correctly and with enthusiasm.

Me: “L, can you say Mama?”

L: Looks at me, devilish grin, and says “Dada”.

Uggh. I mean seriously what does a Mom have to do to get a “Mama” in this house? I feed you, bathe you, read to you, play with you, change your poopy diapers, etc. (Granted, Dad does those things too, but come on!). Then that little sly grin and saying Dada. It’s like she knew it was slowly breaking my heart that from ages 9 months to 20 months (that’s a whole damn 11 months!) I kept longing to hear that word, and she thought it was hilarious that I was getting depressed about it. She would actually laugh after saying “Dada” and seeing my face. What a nice girl I have.

I am pleased to say though, that Sunday night, after 11 months of heartbreak, my daughter said “Mama”. I was having the worst day. Just all around awful, but not worth getting into details over. So I’m lying on the couch just counting down the minutes until bedtime, when she’s trying to get my attention. I’m so out of it (not due to a fault of my own) so I’m only half paying attention. Then I hear it…. “Mama!!!”.

She didn’t just say it – she shrieked it. With a smile, and a running jumping hug, and a cuddle with an “Awww” attached to it.

The girl who was breaking my heart for 11 months, just made my entire life with one word.

Now she won’t stop saying it.

I might regret longing for this down the road.

For the love of your kids – cut open your juice boxes!

This happened to me a few months ago, but I didn’t have a blog then so I’m posting about it now. Please feel free to share or re-blog to spread the word!

Juice boxes. A lot of Moms and Dads buy them. They are super convenient for when you’re on the go. Just take that straw, jab it in the little tinfoil perforation area, hand it over and you’ve got a happy kid. A happy kid, yes, but potentially a sick one.

I am lucky enough that my mother watches little L every day while I work. We do the usual routine – I bring her to Gramma’s, we get a snack ready together, give a big hug and a kiss goodbye and I’m off to work.

It was just a regular Monday, so we arrived at Gramma’s. We started getting the snack ready. We had one juice box left out of a five pack. At the time it was well within the expiration date (this happened months ago, remember). My mom said “You know, she’s been on such a juice kick lately and isn’t getting as much water as she should. Maybe we should cut that box open, pour it into a sippy cup and dilute it with water?”. Sounded like a good plan to me, so I cut open the corner and poured it out.

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD – THIS IS NOT JUICE!!!

What poured out was a putrid mix of sludgey swamp water. There was a mold mat in the bottom that had congealed to the shape of the square juice box. It was beyond rancid.

I FLIPPED OUT.

It was the last box out of a five-pack. How the hell do I not know the others weren’t like this?
What if I was like any other person out there who just pierces the box and let’s their kid drink it. How sick would she be right now?

I called the company and lost it. I called the Canadian Food Inspection Agency as well. They picked up the box, the “specimen” (because who the hell on their right minds could call it juice at that point?” and they started their investigation.

I should say, that the manufacturer (Oasis juice) was just as horrified as I was. They were beyond cooperative, and were glad that I reported it to the Food Inspection Agency.

Apparently this can only happen if air is exposed to the juice. This could be in the manufacturing process. It could be during transport if it is bumped microscopically. It could have been in the grocery store itself if it were mishandled. As soon as the mold mat forms, it “plugs” up the microscopic hole and you don’t notice a leak.

So let this be my lesson for the day – stick to clear bottles that allow you to actually see the product. For the love of God, please cut open your juice boxes from now on!

You just never do know, and your kids health is not worth the convenience.

“It’s the summer. Ice cream melts.”

Welcome to summer. A time for sunshine, fun activities, and summertime treats. It’s the time of year that you get to eat things you wouldn’t normally all year round: Juicy watermelon slices, fresh local strawberries, ice cream, etc.

I try not to overload L with too much sugar. She doesn’t need the sugar, and I don’t need the consequences of her sugar consumption. But it’s summertime. How do you say no to ice cream?

So I invested in these teeny tiny ice cream cones. They are maybe an inch tall, and hold 1 – 1 1/2 tsp’s of ice cream. Not a lot at all, but the look on her face when she gets her very own ice cream cone is unbeatable!

So today we had some ice cream. She was so enthralled, that she stood on the spot, completely still and focused on her cone for 10 minutes. The only part of her that moved was her little tongue, lapping up the goodness. It’s the most still I’ve seen her…well….ever (unless you count when she’s asleep).

But here’s the thing about ice cream. It melts.

When it melted, so did her composure.

It wasn’t ice cream anymore, but a liquid gooey mess that was all over her dress, and her hands, and her face. We had to take what was left of the cone (sticky, gooey, grossness) away.

I think people must have thought someone died, because the meltdown that occurred was BEYOND EPIC!!!

Big huge crocodile tears, snot running everywhere, and a broken heart.

Sigh.

All over ice cream. That’s Mommy’s girl.