Archive | February, 2010


27 Feb

You would think, moving somewhere tropical (Florida is tropical, right?) would mean no more colds, flus or runny noses. It’d be all about sunning yourself (if you weren’t allergic to the sun), or complaining about the heat. Sadly, this is not the case. It is a bit nippy, nowhere near the horrendous weather they’re having in the northeast, but bad for Florida nonetheless. The fruit and the flowers are all dying. And I, I have the worst cold I’ve ever had. Ever. My sinuses are so inflamed or swollen or something that I have a toothache. I sh*t you not. A toothache so bad that I braved the dentist for the first time in 20 years. And my teeth are fine! Woohoo! Some small cavities and gum disease, but nothing that can’t be fixed relatively easily. Woohoo! I still have a blooming toothache though. Slightly improved by decongestant medicine.

Could the timing be worse? Not really. Tonight there is an Awards Banquet we are going to (probably). And Monday we’re off to South Carolina to visit the in-laws. So this time I’ve spent languishing on the couch meant there was no pedicure or haircut for the banquet. And no gathering of mental strength for the visit to the in-laws (and I need all of the strength I can muster). Happily, I have been able to muster the physical strength to clean the house up a little this morning. I hate going away and coming back to a dirty house. So the house has to be clean and the laundry done. I suppose I can gather the mental strength on the journey up there. If this toothache ever goes away. Who knew toothaches were so debilitating?

Right, I’m off to shake out my $10 dress and find my handbag.

Sandy play

24 Feb

We had half a bag of sand in the garage. Sitting there for over six months. We’ll hardly bring it with us when we move, so it was time to think of something to do with it. Besides play with it, in the normal way. That’s booooring! So I thought “Food colouring!” Coloured sand. Brilliant. I gathered some tupperware (or whatever it’s called), cups, jars and the food colouring. And our sand adventure began. Put some sand in a container, add some food colouring and give it a shake. And what do you get? Coloured sand. Brilliant!

And coloured sand castles. The poor neglected sand table was brought back to life today, after months of being ignored. We won’t mention the blue hands that just won’t go away. Surely food colouring isn’t permanent, is it?

A day in pictures

23 Feb

It would seem that even as I pulled my hair out over the shoes thing the turtle was getting over it. She says, with desperation in her voice. Although I do think that he’s reading this blog in secret and the shoe thing will rear its head again as soon as I have published this post. Oh well! The key was going to the beach. He did have a hissy fit when I took off his shoes and he was rather reluctant to put his feet down (which make me wonder if he hurt his foot recently when he had his shoes off?) but once he did, he was grand. He didn’t even notice that I hadn’t put his shoes back on when I put him in the buggy to bring him home (I put mine on in secret like a lunatic). And miracle of miracles, when we got home he got in the bath, with only minor protestations over the removal of his shirt, pants and nappy. A successful day, especially if we don’t mention the 40 minute tantrum over my refusal to give him “kok-o-lit”. A day like that deserves to be remembered in pictures:

Yep, I did give him a bath, then let him play in flour. Peace is precious.

“Shoes, shoes, shoes!”

22 Feb

The cry of “Shoes” used to make me giggle, because it meant that the turtle was trying on my shoes. Now though, I cringe. Because now it means that I have taken his shoes off (to change a nappy or get in the bath or walk on the beach, anything really) and he is having a conniption fit to get them back on. Removal of a jacket, pants, socks, whatever, gets the same reaction. And only for the past week. I mean, it’s not that long ago that I was griping about him pooping in the hubby’s shoes. For a while there, I thought he would be going to school naked. Now, I can’t change his nappy or even get him to sit on the potty. Well I can, but it takes a lot out of me. A LOT.

I just don’t understand it. I know that it’s probably a phase and that I have to ride it out, but I just don’t understand it. I suspect that it’s because we’ve been going out and about so much lately. He knows that if he has no shoes on he’s going nowhere. Ditto for pants, socks, and lately his jacket. I may have to hide his shoes. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

In the meantime, this is proving highly effective, as a coping strategy!

Look at what I made!

21 Feb

Freezer paper stenciling is the business! I think I may be addicted. In fact, the pile of solid colour t-shirts and shirts I found today (on sale for $1.50 at Old Navy) means I may well have to be. But think of the world of possibilities it opens up. Boys t-shirts can be crap. Some freezer paper, acrylic paint, and clip art can sort that out.

Give it a go. It’s the bee’s knees. And so simple. The hardest part was waiting for the paint to dry. It looks sooooo good. Here’s proof that it was actually me who made it!

One of those days

18 Feb

Yesterday started out fairly well, what with racing cars and trains down a large piece of cardboard and hysterical laughter and whatnot. The turtle even managed a rather large poop in the potty. The kind that if you saw it in a public loo you would think “What kind of animal was in here?” That kind. The kind that gives you a sense that now, well, now would be a good time to indulge in “nappy-free time”. Like a fool. That’s how you end up with runny poop all over the cream carpet in your rented house. That’s how you end up on your hands and knees cleaning poop before 8am. And later, when you’re changing his nappy, just before you start rushing out the door you think “He’ll be alright while I get a clean nappy, he already pooped once today….” that’ll be when he poops in the hubby’s shoe. He stands in the hubby’s shoes to see out the window and poops straight into one of them. That’s when hair starts spontaneously falling out of your head. You clean it up, throw the shoes in the washing machine and leg it. Things can’t get worse, right?

You’re rushing to “Funnastics”, even though the name makes you feel a bit nauseated, and you look down. The turtle is conked. Bloody. Bloody. Bloody. Do you turn around and go home? Continue on your journey? Wake him? You choose option #3. And it worked out. More or less. He had fun. Even though it was all a bit haphazard and crazy (but that’s what he thrives on). Until the last 5 minutes. When he slipped on his own pant leg and bounced his head off the floor. Bounced. Honestly. And roared like a banshee. A boy that doesn’t cry. And all of the poopy carpet and shoes were forgiven.

Of course on the way home you’re afraid he’ll fall asleep, in case he might be concussed. He didn’t. Then you hope he will. He doesn’t. No hope. Not even a glimmer. Then it’s “playdate” time. Maybe he’ll fall asleep on the way there? Nope. It’s too cold and windy. You begin to think, “Hmmm, maybe it’s too cold for schlepping to the park and standing around? Oh well! We’re out of the house …. What harm can it do?” None really. He had a great time. Running around, stealing the other kids’ snacks and drinks, laughing like a hyena. No harm done. Unless you fast forward to today.

It turns out it was too cold to be standing around for two hours. Now the turtle has a small cold. And today was another one of those days. Completely unavoidable. But they all are, aren’t they? That’s what makes them so infuriating.

Prompted by Sleep is for the Weak‘s writing workshop

3. Write about ‘one of those days’. I’m sure you’ve had one lately…
– Inspired by poor Metropolitan Mum who certainly has!

The simplest things

17 Feb

A sheet of cardboard and some cars.  What more does a small boy need? It would seem he doesn’t need the garage we spent an extortionate amount of money on for Christmas. The box it came in would have been fine. I can’t say anything though, as I was the one who wanted it. For him. For him.

And for me. Having a son means I may get to play with all of the cool boy toys my brother wouldn’t let me touch when we were kids. And if the turtle won’t let me play with them? Well, he has to sleep sometime! 😉

I was thinking, if it were a bit warmer and later in the day (read: if I were dressed!) it might be fun to dip the cars in paint and then roll them down the cardboard. See it would have to be warmer, because we would be doing it outside.

Maybe some other day.


12 Feb

It has to be visited doesn’t it. That nightmare of parental subjects. We have actually been fairly blessed with the turtle. Then again, I did feed him to sleep until he stopped breastfeeding at 14 months. I still would if he hadn’t given up on me. After that, I rocked him to sleep in my arms and transferred him into the cot when he was asleep. It took a total of ten minutes and it was lovely to have him quiet and still in my arms at the end of the day, indeed, it was nice in the middle of the day too. Like a reconnect.

Then I transferred parental responsibility for night time to the hubby.Things went well. Then illness came to visit. So for the past couple of weeks (although it seems like much, much longer) the hubby has been using the TV to “wind down” the turtle – which actually means that he has been conking out in front of the TV and the hubby has been transferring him to his cot.  And this just seems wrong. So, so  wrong.

I was loathe to interfere. After all we’re both the turtle’s parents. He was doing what he thought best. But it couldn’t go on. Good sleep habits are an essential life skill. Zoning out in front of the TV is something must be discouraged. It meant too that he would wake up in the middle of the night . And come into our bed. Fine in and of itself, but with his tendency to sprawl out lengthways across the bed, he was the only one sleeping.

So a new regime has been installed. I have taken over bed time again. I put the turtle in his cot, read him a couple of stories, turn out the light and sing a lullaby or seven. And he falls asleep. We’re even doing it for nap times now too. And so far, so good. He seems to be associating his cot with sleep. He woke once last night, but settled himself.

One night of uninterrupted sleep and the world seems just a faint bit rosier.

Here’s hoping it continues! Even though if there is just one thing I have learned about this parenting mallarkey, it’s that as soon as I learn the rules, the goalposts are moved.

Valentines’ Cards

11 Feb

We finished our Valentines’ cards today! Too late for the grandparents to actually get them for Valentines’ Day, but we can consider that my little protest to the whole idea. Say what you like about the whole thing, but getting a Valentines’ card from the in-laws (like I did) is a bit odd. Helping the turtle make his own gets me us out of that whole murky vortex.

We had the carrot prints done, but my ineptitude with the carving meant they looked a bit, well, sorrowful. So I cut out some pictures of roses from a magazine and let the turtle loose with the glue, the glitter and some stickers.

He had a great time. Got glitter in the most unlikely of places. And insisted on adding Spiderman stickers to his masterpieces. The stickers alone kept him occupied for a half an hour.

And the results?


10 Feb

Ok, I admit it, the turtle watches TV. More than I would like sometimes, but I am the only one who can sort that out. Sesame Street, and Thomas are the main staples. And sometimes The Wonder Pets – like yesterday when he wouldn’t wake from his nap and it was gone 5 o’clock. I put on The Wonder Pets and turned them up fairly loud. Up he sat, like a bullet. Said “duck, turtle, uh oh!” and sat and watched it for ten minutes while he woke up fully. So, yes, TV has a place in our house. When Mammy wants to have a shower it’s particularly useful.


Yesterday evening we went out for dinner. To Olive Garden. An Italian restaurant chain. The turtle was his usual self. Eating all the croutons in sight, washing them down with his own weight in pasta – “Paaata”. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s not brilliantly behaved or anything like that. He was eating crayons, throwing straws, shouting and roaring a small bit, the usual. He was grand though. Didn’t disturb anyone. Or poke anyone’s eye out with a flying fork. He was just a small child in a restaurant.

In came another small child. With what looked like his mother, a couple of aunts, and maybe a grandfather.  The small child in question was 22 months. I know because the hubby talked to them. He’ll talk to anyone, that man. Anyway, what got me on this tangent about TV and made me let slip admit the fact that we do actually watch it (I know you all thought we were constantly painting, going to the beach and digging holes in the garden) is that they had a little portable dvd player with them. In the restaurant. And their small child spent the entire time watching it. Watching that Michael Jackson thing. The documentary/film. The entire time. Not eating. Not throwing crayons. Not interacting with what looked like his family members. Nothing. Just watching TV.

Is it just me? Or does that not seem wrong? And a little sad.

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