Posting again

Well, I like wordpress, but I don't like the blog name I gave myself, so I'll post here again until my fried brain can think of something better than Wacky Parent.

Benjamin has been really funny. He says things like "very good mommy" when I sprinkle Parmesan cheese on my spaghetti, without spilling some of it on the table.

Sonja is sleeping and eating better too. I feel somewhat rested, although the slump still hits me in midafternoon. But today, both kids are napping together, and instead of napping myself, what do I do? I blog. I should be cleaning the livingroom before I commit myself to the looney bin, what with the rest of the house spic and span (burst of energy yesterday)...but that computer was beckoning me. My friend in Germany calls it a "Mistding"...ha. That is my commentary to that name.

So I'll be back. Either here or there. I'll let you know. You know who you are.

Wacky Parenting

I have a label called Wacky Parenting.

I am seriously considering renaming, or starting from scratch, a new blog.

I feel like I have graduated from writting nutty notes.

Maybe I will.

But not now.

Now, I'm busy containing leaky breasts with either a baby or a pump attached to me.

Countdown

There is 1 day left before my hubby starts his new job in the world of Aviation Academia tomorrow.

There are 2 day left before my toddler starts his second year of daycare on Wednesday.

There are 43 days left until the birth of my second child.

There are 83094884737283929430249302483284 days left until the renovations are anywhere near complete.

Thank you.

I admit it

Ok.

As much as I hate to admit it out loud, there is one thing that I know I will miss tonight. And it is the nightly bedtime routine with my toddler.

Benjamin is sleeping at his grandparents' house tonight and tomorrow night.
Hubby is out of town overnight someplace in the northeastern USA.

Only Rusty is here keeping me company.

So tonight I will have no toddler to tend to.

Which is the strange part...I get to sit in front of the tv and eat dinner, watch a useless tv show, take as long as I want to finish eating, leave the dishes as long as I feel like it, have a leisurely shower at my convenience, go to bed as early or late as I wish, read any book or magazine whose target audience is not pint-sized or features trucks with big wheels, and eventually fall asleep without having to remember to carry the sleeping child lying next to me back to his own bed.

But I know that the bed will feel empty without Benjamin there. There is something about snuggling with my clean-smelling, Nuggi-suckling, Bello-clutching toddler boy at night time looking at books of his choice and listening to his never-ending babbling of ever-expanding knowledge about various construction equipment.

It will feel strange not feeling the little pudgy footsies touch the small of my back after I turn off the light and try to get my pregnant belly comfy wedged in between several pillows.

I will miss the feeling of a warm little hand reaching for mine so he can fall asleep holding my hand.

And I will miss the flood of relief when I return from carrying a 27 pound kid into his own bed at 11:30 pm-ish. (This fortunately does not happen every night, but it happens often enough that I can honestly say it is one of those catch-22, love-it/dislike-it situations.)

And tomorrow, I will miss hearing the little noises his chubby feet make when he tiptoes to my side of the bed at 7 (ok 6ish) in the morning. I especially will miss that part because he shows up with an armful of stuffed toys (Bello, Imposter Bello, Lamb and Baby Lamb), drops them on "his" side of the bed, walks over to my side, places Imposter Bello in my arms, walks back to the other side, and snuggles up against me until I wake up.

(Imposter Bello is "mommy's Bello", aka "stinky Bello". His Bello is "other Bello" or plain and simple Bello.)

I will miss all of the above.

But not so much that I won't enjoy the peace and quiet tonight will bring. Maybe I won't even do the dishes tonight. I know I'll regret it in the morning but I have no kid to tend to then either.

I'm just too tired tonight to care.

So....good night.

Toodler library fines

Clearly, my toddler must get his act together.

He has his own library card, knows how to pick out books and videos, stand in line, wait his turn, hand over the card, wait for the items to be scanned without impatient commentary, then carry items home.

So why is it that he can't remember to bring them back on time?

It's not like mommy doesn't write it on the calendar, or keep the nifty little receipt posted on the bulletin board.

Today, he owes over a buck.

A BUCK!

Clearly, we have to have a chat.

Not napping. Again.

He's so tired.

He even managed to cuddle with me for a bit on his narrow single bed until he bumped his head against mine.

I now have a headache.

He now is wide awake.

So now I'm going to do what any other normal, pregnant, stay-at-home mom of a toddler would do:

EAT. I have some frozen organic ground beef, some spicy salsa, and some flax whole wheat wraps. Just add cheese...

Frankly, this is not-napping all fine and dandy NOW since I am

a) not sleep deprived
b) have no newborn to tend to

I'm REALLY looking forward to the next phase, when all that insanity will begin.

Especially since it'll also be cold and wintery. We'll all be stuck indoors.

Yay.

I wanna hold your hand

♪ I wanna hold your hand ♪

I didn't know all the words to the Beatles song "I wanna hold your hand" except that sentence.

So when Benjamin wants to walk on elevated structures, he often asks me to "hold my hand".

Sometimes I sing the tune, the little bit I know, and then I enducate him that that's a Beatles' song.

Now, everytime he asks me to hold his hand, he says "mommy sing" and "it's Beatles".

This morning, I looked for the CD at the library (online) and put it on hold when I found it. Turns out, the Beatles are still very popular these days, as I am number 134 on the list. May be a while until I get a hold of that CD.

Which is where YouTube comes in.

Enjoy! I know Ben will!

Sanity Savers when you're extra tired

Here's what works for me when:

*toddler didn't sleep through the night,
*toddler won't nap today,
*it's raining, and
*I have a headache (or any other symptom that reduces my patience level to minimum)

1. Clean something. Specifically vacuum cleaning is recommended, but mopping will work nicely too. The trick is to do something that requires you to keep moving. If you take a breather on the couch, you may never get up again. And with luck, the whiny kid will enjoy "helping" with the broom or duster or vacuum cleaner. You can take turns.

2. Bathe said toddler PRIOR to supper. Put him in trackpants so he won't get the pjs full of doghair and then let him play or watch a video. (Or stick him behind a gate and let him whine it out while the droning of the vacuum cleaner tunes out the whine. Hey, you do what you have to do to make it to bedtime...)

3. If you suspect he will fall asleep significantly earlier than is desireable (you do after all still want him to sleep through the night and not wake up at 3 am) then prep some yoghurt with berries, put some cheerios and raisins in a bowl, slice up an apple, give him some milk, and hope to prolonge the quiet/awake time until at least not too much earlier than the regular bedtime. Leftovers work too. The point is to make sure he does have something in his tummy. Try not to miss that precious window of opportunity where he will go to sleep a tad earlier than usual, like say an hour prior to the regular bedtime (rather than three hours prior).

Note: none of the above is a guarantee that it'll work. I have found that it does most of the time for our situation, but there are days/nights when meltdowns occur and the entire plan goes up shit's creek. Those nights I simply take the cranky toddler to bed with me, even if it's only 7 pm, turn off the light, and get an extra hour or two of well-deserved sleep myself. It'll be up to daddy to move the child from his spot when he arrives from wherever he was.

Multiplying stuffed toys

I am failing miserably at keeping the stuffed toys from invading my tiny house.

Perhaps if I start using the following sentences, things will slow down a bit:

Thank you for the lovely ginormous stuffed monkey! We'll keep it at your house/cottage/apartment so that Benjamin can play with it when we visit you!

Burning calories

You ever wonder how many calories you burn when you're trying to dress/undress a squirmy toddler?

I actually had to lock him in between my legs and apply pressure with my upper thighs to finish getting him dressed. That must count for squats or something.

Note to self: perhaps it's time to teach offspring to undress himself.

Kibble and poop

The first time I came across the idea that baby poop wasn't always squishy was while 8 months pregnant and reading Ann Lamott's Operating Instructions.

At one point she recounts how she chased after the little pebbles of poop (or whatever she called them) because they rolled out of the diaper and onto the floor.

I found this fascinating, horrifying and very weird.

Tonight, I was tidying up random toys and clothes just before bedtime when I came across a dog kibble on the dresser/change table.

I remember wondering how the it got up there. Yes, Benjamin helps to feed the dog, but he can't reach that far up yet.

Did he throw it up there?

I picked it up and realized that it feels too soft for dog kibble.

It's a piece of poop.

Which rolled out of the diaper earlier when hubby changed him.

Hubby is killing himself laughing at my disgust but then chases me to the bathroom with the liquid soap. God forbit I would touch the regular soap with my poopy hands.

Bad (drinking) mother of branded child

Yes, we let our toddler watch TV.

Specifically, he watches programs of our choosing, for a limited amount of time, either pre-taped, DVD or on the kids' TV channel Treehouse. He likes Mighty Machines, Thomas the Tank Engine, and similar programs. Thankfully he doesn't like Dora or Diego (I find Dora in particular very annoying).

We don't have any time limits or specific rules regarding TV. Yet. And yes, sometimes I allow him to watch more than I should, for various reasons most parents of toddler would immediately understand.

So imagine my surprise when this morning, upon seeing the treehouse icon, my not yet two year old actually says the word at the exact time he's looking at the word!


No...he can't read yet. I think this is clearly a case of brand recognition (GASP).

Fortunately he has not yet imitated the catchy little tune that they play between segments. You know..."♪ you're watching TREE...house ♪".

I was astonished, shocked and surprised, and immediately turned the TV off. My brain feels bombarded. Is he branded now? Commercialized? RUINED?

Perhaps I'm exaggerating a tad. It would help if I could remember the author, or the book's title, about a topic related to this situation. (Elisabeth Schor? Juliette Schorr? The branded child???) I would love to re-read her research results. But I can't for the life of me recall it, nor are the various search engines very helpful in that regard.

The reality however is that TV is a part of our life. Although hubby and I don't watch much, we do tune in and sometimes even tolerate shows that could best be described as idiotic. I even admit that I taped, during various times throughout my adult life, soap operas or other similar shows. Yes, taped them, so as to speed through the commercials. And you'll find me occasionally watching sitcoms like King of Queens, or Seinfeld, or Frasier, or even the one with Charlie Sheen in it...what's it called again? Something about two men?

Benjamin loves his videos. He knows which one he likes to watch, and picks them out at the library himself. He can have a mini-meltdown if he's not allowed to tune in at the exact moment he wants to.

But I redirect him often, and offer to play with him. As a SAHM (for now) I recently re-discovered Lego, and I have to admit I'm having great fun creating little vehicles for him (if it's got wheels, he's interested in it). We also read books, paint, do crafts, shovel snow and do an assortment of other things. He even has his own chores.

What does this have to do with the drinking part in the title of this post you ask?

Well...visit some mom blogs today and you'll note that almost all of them, particularly those of our American friends south of the border, have seen a segment on the Today Show a few days ago with Meredith making some comment about drinking mommies. You'll have to tune in to the various rants yourself to find out about it if you haven't heard. Try Notes from the Trenches (she's got 7 kids), or Mom, Ma'am Me (the first one I saw on this topic) for some of those rather funny commentaries.

Which brings me back to the drinking.

I enjoy my glass(es) of wine with some (many) homecooked meals. Given today's revelation however, that my toddler is now officially brainwashed, I can't help but think that Meredith would cast judgement on me too.

I know one thing for sure. We're having at least one glass of red wine with our T-bone steak tonight.

Cheers.

1 more thing that happened but wasn't obvious till today

When I threw the carseat back in the wagon, the door caught on the belt.

Door remained slightly ajar most of the day.

Didn't notice.

Drained battery.

1 thing that didn't happen this afternoon.

He.

Did.

Not.

Nap.

Mama is very tired.

50 events that happened to me this morning

1. Toddler wakes up at 4.
2. Crying for no apparent reason.
3. Take him to bed with me for another couple of hours of much needed sleep.
4. Husband leaves for his day and forces us to wake up and get the morning started.
5. Start morning.
6. Realise I lost keys. Probably did this but can't remember. Previously blogged about it at length here.
7. Car's wipers don't work. Other car at airport with husband.
8. It's snowing.
9. Daycare starts at 8:30 am.
10. Found backup key for car.
11. Snowing slows down. No accumulation.
12. Leave door unlocked, tell Rusty to guard the house (ha) and leave.
13. Drive car to daycare with fan blasting windshield.
14. No further incidents on 8-minute drive to the school.
15. Drop off child, take down names of kids for future Valentine's card-exchange, look for grocery list.
16. Decide to cancel grocery shopping because it starts snowing again.
17. Get home.
18. Plan on drinking coffee, lurking in blogworld, and start looking for keys.
19. Coffee is cold.
20. Phone is flashing, voicemail.
21. Husband left message he has my keys.
22. Men.
23. Can't call him back because he is an airline pilot.
24. Call neighbour to schedule pick-up at daycare in her car.
25. About to go out to take carseat out of my car when an urgent email appears from daughter of next-door neighbour.
26. Next-door neighbour is sick again, and needs to call a cab to take her to emerg.
27. Could I keep an eye out to see if the cab appears.
28. Call neighbour. She's 86. Been sick on and off since August.
29. She asks me to call the cab.
30. Called cab for her, then go over to see if she can walk, breathe, etc.
31. Help her to the cab and send her off.
32. Can't accompany her due to keylessness and daycare situation.
33. Email daughter back that I put her mom in the cab, they're on the way.
34. Correspond with her for a few minutes to calm her down.
35. Coffee still cold.
36. Jump in shower, feel headache coming on.
37. Come out of shower, Germany on IM, we chat about my exciting, eventful morning.
38. See neighbour pulling into driveway for daycare pick-up.
39. It stopped snowing and the sun is out.
40. She still wants to take me to the daycare.
41. Lock front door.
42. Leave by back door, install carseat in her car, go to daycare for pick-up.
43. Hang out until Ben comes out of classroom.
44. Come home, take out carseat of neighbour's car, throw it in backseat of my car.
45. Listen to usual 5-minute whine about having to go inside and have lunch.
46. Make lunch.
47. Eat lunch with child.
48. Child is now watching a video and will (hopefully) have a nice long nap.
49. Made tea.
50. Blogged this.

Child labour

I have assigned my toddler household chores. This is entirely his own fault.

There we were one morning sitting with our cups of coffee and the dog wants to go out (and in and out and in, it never ends). Neither one of us was fully awake and neither one of us could be bribed to get off our butts and walk 7 steps to let Rusty outside.

P.N.D. (Poor Neglected Dog).

Disclaimer: if anyone is reading this post out in blogland, we do NOT neglect our animal in any way, shape or form. He gets daily walks, food twice a day, has several dog beds in the house, toys, you name it. The PND remark is simply a sarcastic comment.

Anyway, since Benjamin was running around wide awake with no intentions of slowing down, we asked him to let the dog out.

And he did!

So we've been telling people that our child has become our servant. He loves doing stuff for us, and we love it when he does!

Benjamin, can you let the dog out?
Benjamin, Rusty is scratching at the door, can you let the dog in?
Benjamin, that belongs in the garbage/compost bin/diaper pail. Will you put it in there?
Benjamin, do you need your nose wiped? Go get a kleenex and I'll help you.

Ha!

His newest responsibility is to feed Rusty. This is quite the procedure. He has to:

1. open the pantry door
2. remove the stuff sitting on top of the Rubbermaid Bin where the dog food is located
3. pull the bin out
4. take the lid off (with help he can do it)
5. take the cup
6. fill it to almost full (that's quite the task in itself!)
7. carry it without spilling the contents (he's not looking at the cup when he's walking, he's looking ahead. And, he's walking very, very cautiously!)
8. pour the dog food in the dog bowl without spilling
9. return the cup into the bin
10. put the lid on
11. push it back
12. and close the door

That's a lot of steps for a 21-month old!

Of course we have to supervise but what the heck, start 'em young!

Lying to my child

I admit it. I lied to my little toddler. Wasn't the first time either.

There was this lemon poppyseed cake cooling on the table. There was also a bowl of soup in front of the child. But he kept eyeing the cake. He says:

want cake

I encourage him to forget about the cake by removing it to another location and saying things like:

eat your lunch
have some soup
try the beans
we'll have cake later

But he's not buying. He still wants cake.

Then comes the whining.

Finally I tell him the cake is too hot and that he has to wait. That was the lie. The cake is too hot.

He knows about hot. He tests his food by sticking his finger in it and announcing 'hot'.

Technically the cake was still cooling. Describing it as 'hot' was a tad exaggerated.

But it worked. He stopped asking for cake.

Rewind to this morning:
On the daily walk with the dog, he kept asking for

more cookies

The only thing I had handy was a bag full of library books, a bag of dog poop, and some kleenex.

He didn't understand that there was no more cookies right now. He tried to understand, I could tell by the way his wheels were turning. His lip was pouting. His eyes were glazing over, ready to spurt some tears. But every explanation just reinforced the one fact in his immediate little life: there was no more cookies in his cup.

I tried explaining about cookies being at home in the cupboard, not out here in the middle of the street, but I'm not sure if he got it. After a while he let it go but once we reached the house he started wailing for cookies. Even refused to walk up the steps. The only thing on his mind was the cookies.

Such trauma in a baby's life.

Carseats and toddlers and wintercoats

I think I broke my finger struggling with the straps on the carseat with a sticky toddler in his wintercoat with the hood attached because it was raining.

Key challenges

When you spend a significant period of your childhood living in one country, and then move to another country, some habits you took for granted may come back to you much later after you return to the first country for a visit.

I was reminded of such a habit today while I was frantically looking for my keys.

When I was a teenager and young adult, I returned to Switzerland on a couple of occasions to visit with my grandmother and other family and friends. One thing that prominently stuck to my mind was how my grandmother leaves her house key in the keyhole on the inside of her apartment.

There was no key chain or numerous keys dangling from the door. It was just the solitary key stuck in the door.

It was something that must have been a normal occurance while I was growing up in Switzerland, but having returned there from Canada, I recall remarking to her how perplexing it is to see a key in the door like that. I'm used to seeing keys on hooks. My grandmother was surprised and stated that it was the only normal place for the house key. That way, she always has access to it and never has to look for it.

Hm.

Ok. That makes sense to me. But living in Canada where it is unheard of to not own a car (well, not unheard of exactly, but most people I know own at least one vehicle), I have yet to come across a person who owns only one key. Most of us carry key chains around with us akin to Sing Sing prison guards or something. My key chain includes three house keys for my house alone (front, back and side), not to mention my parents' three house keys, two sets of car keys with separate trunk keys, the push-button-thingy that opens the Honda automatically, and who knows what else.

I did find my keys. They were stuck in the keyhole on the outside of the backdoor leading to the fenced-in yard. They were out there all night.

Hm.

Actually, this isn't so unusual, come to think of it. I find myself leaving my keys stuck in doors more often than not, as Andrej has remarked. Sometimes even in the front door, on the outside!

But this happens because I rarely enter or leave the house without anything other than my keys and a purse. Usually I lug diaper bags, library books, groceries, dog leashes, and a squirmy toddler in or out of the house. I figure once the key is in the door, I at least won't misplace it (along with all the other ones on the chain) and can rescue it after I deal with the groceries, dog and toddler. But inevitably, something always manages to distract me, and I forget about the keys until I need to go someplace, and start looking for them. Or until Andrej comes home and makes a remark.

My grandmother is almost 90. I doubt she's ever lost her house key.

Female potatohead

Ok, I'm spending way too much time with tiny children. Today I actually called the female potatohead Mommy Mr. Potatohead.

Duh.

Ben's language skills are exploding. It's unreal. And funny!

Mine however seem to be deteriorating fast...