Gift of the Magi

We are a non-religious family, but thanks to Baba, Tim has ready access to a wide selection of Christmas books featuring the story of Jesus' birth. (I'm glad of this; religious or not, the story of Jesus IS the reason we have Christmas to celebrate. Might as well be honest!) His current fave is Margaret Laurence's version, which is really quite lovely.

Baba also brought Tim a Little Peoples crêche (aka Manger Scene) and gave it to him while we were away in Montreal. Because Tim knows the Christmas story quite well from the books, I suggested tonight that we act out the Christmas story using the Little People. When the Wise Men arrived, I asked Tim what they brought for Baby Jesus.

"Peasants."

When pressed for specifics, Tim informed me that the three wise men brought peasants consisting of myrrh, gold, and ice cream.

An overnight sensation

Tim is all about surprises. We wait and wait, worry, find ourselves on the cusp of giving up hope, then Voila! Mr. Expert shows up.

So it was with talking.

Now it's happened again with peeing on the toilet. Yesterday, I could not have coaxed Tim onto the toilet or potty even with M&M's. (And if he submitted to sitting on it, there was no expulsion of liquid whatsoever.) Today, I could barely pry him away from the toilet, and every time he sat on it (or stood over it), he managed to squeeze out enough droplets to justify squealing "I peed! I peed on the big white toilet/little green potty!"

It started with a morning with Dad, naked and post-shower. Somehow, he managed to announce before he actually peed, that he had to go. (Unprecedented.) Dad brought him to the toilet, and he just stood before it, aimed, and shot. Perfect, and was rewarded with M&M's.

FFWD to Mom suggesting trying it again. He tried to replicate his experience with dad by running upstairs... but nothing would come out. He was so frustrated! What is going on? I suggested that there may not be enough water in his tummy, and we should try again after lunch. Dude was chomping a the bit and when I finally suggested it might be a good time, he opted for sitting on the Diego seat on the downstairs toilet. When the water poured forth, he simply beamed with pride. High five's and M&M's all around!

The rest of the day was a bit of a snowball. He was keen to try his skills on the virgin Little Green Potty in the living room, and nailed it on the first try. During supper, he got up, ran to the living room on his own, and when I peeked in, there he was, standing over the potty aiming right into the hole. Bulls-eye! M&M's be damned, success was intoxicating and being allowed to empty the potty into the big toilet reward enough. Tim spent the rest of supper with his pants around his ankles, running back and forth between the potty and the toilet. Tim, wanna watch TV? NO! I WANT TO PEE IN THE TOILET!

I made the mistake of telling him that first thing in the morning he could try to POO in the toilet. The prospect was apparently as exciting as that of a visit from Santa Claus because he was so excited it took a good 45 minutes to fall asleep.

Can't wait 'til morning! Bring on that shit!

A very quiet afternoon

The big kids are at school. Tim's napping. I'm all finished my work, lunch, and surfing. The house is relatively tidy (after having company for dinner last night), and I can't think of anything good to blog about.

I have nothing to do.

Which means, I'd better come up with a to-do list for rare moments like this! When I'm busy, it feels like there's a mile-long backlog... It can't have just disappeared.

I guess I have something to do now...

He grows up, and he grows up

This morning, Tim and I were in the kitchen. He was eating a yo-yo-baby [yogurt], and I was making coffee. Apropos of nothing, he tells me: "Mommy ha' a bum and Mommy ha' a wawa [vulva]. And Tim ha' a bum and Tim ha' a penis."

I agreed with his observation, and he added for good measure "Tim ha' a bellybutton, and Mommy ha' a bellybutton."

It's all coming together for our little man.

It's been a month of growth for him, that's for sure. First, he discovered Halloween. Although for months he had talked about dressing up as a pirate, he refused to don the costume when the day came. It took seeing other kids his age arriving at the door in disguise and GETTING CANDY for their efforts that finally convinced him. Ben came with us for the first couple houses then split, but by then Tim had caught the bug. He was running ahead of me up to doors, trick-r-treating, gank-you'ing, and Aaarrr'ing like nobody's business. And the haul was worth it.

Tim seemed empowered by his embrace of Halloween. A few days later, Baba and Doe [Joe] arrived. They last time they saw Tim, he only spoke about ten words. After showing of his sentences to them, he took his vocab to the next level, and began speaking in paragraphs, making detailed observations about the world around him using as many ideas and adjectives as possible.

After a couple of days of visiting, it was time for The Vacation. In which Mommy and Daddy go away for four nights and Tim has his vacation at home with Baba. This is a big step - the first time we've been away for more than 24 hours.

Mr. Big Boy Tim stepped up and enjoyed himself immensely. Other than a few sad moments from which Baba was able to readily distract him, he was completely happy spending time with Baba, away from mom and dad. Since we've returned we've noticed that he's even more independent and mature than when we left. And, he likes presents.

Inseparable from his new liday owinj tadalome [little orange telephone], that we brought him back from our vacation in Montreal.

Toddler accounting

Yesterday, Tim could count to two. When playing hide-and-seek, "one, two, one, two, one, two...". When counting down for a jump or a slide, "one, two... [jump!]" Etc.

Today, out of the blue, he counted to ten. He was counting the stars on his ceiling: "one, two, dee, doe, die, di, den, ay, nine, ten!" Ironically, there are actually only two glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

I said "Wow Tim! That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!"

He said "Dat amading!"

Then he sang the Three Blind Mice: "Two blind mice, two blind mice, dee how dey run..."

Which, in the context of his previously displayed numerical brilliance caused me to laugh hysterically, which cause him to laugh hysterically, thereby setting back sleep time by a good 10-15 minutes. Well worth it.

Bad day gone good

By all rights, today should've sucked. We woke up this morning to discover that the refrigerator wasn't working; the fact that both the milk and cream were already sour told us that it had likely been failing for days. (Which would explain the previously inexplicably too-soft ice cream the past few nights. Retrospective lesson: kids take way more ice cream per serving when it's really easy to scoop.)

So, drinking black coffee (espresso at least; it was still pretty tasty, though we drank so much more of it), we spent the morning unloading the contents of the fridge to the freezer downstairs (it's new, another benefit of buying a side of pork!) and a cooler. And wondering if we'd be able to get it fixed (how soon?!), or need to go shopping for a new appliance (an even lengthier process).

Then, it's the first beautiful day out in ages, but we have to stick around the house for the repairman to come.

And later, Tim went down for his nap as usual. And slept for exactly four minutes. Cheating Mommy out of her two-hour "break". (The time during which I normally eat my lunch, make supper, fold laundry, get ahead of the burgeoning clutter-disaster. Etc.)

Sounds like a disaster, right?

But jeez, if all the kids weren't great moods first thing in the morning. Tim had slept ALL NIGHT (a rarity these days.) There was happy happy, frolic frolic; they were practically daring us to be cranky. Tim with his "villain" face and voice, motioning with his fingers saying "Coooommme to me, git-a-car".

And hey! A repairman is coming! Within hours of the breakdown! Sweetie McPie had found some back door to an immediate appointment, and dude even spoke English. Sort of. He was from Abitibi and had a crazy eye, but was a 60 year old rocker and appreciated Tim's Cute.

Then, stuck indoors with no nap in sight, Tim and I got up to shenanigans. Or rather, Tim shenaniganed, and I took pictures.

Left alone with the kleenex box: "Mommy, I got lots!"

Playing doh. Kid can hold this squat for hours.

Trying on Mom's glasses. Very studious, no?

A little bit of core workout on the "liday backet bah".

And my very favourite, his own invention: Elevator in a Can*!

Beyond the ridiculousness of him being able to actually fit in this can, I love the fact that he's got no pants on. (Seriously, he was pretending he was in a hotel elevator. Later on, he went for a bucket of ice.)

The day went on to include a stroller run to the grocery store to replace the bad milk (Tim had a mini nap on the way); a delicious** and hitch-free supper; and all kids being chatty at supper time and cooperative about lunch-making (actually, this is not a surprise).

And I painted my nails. Constance picked out a funky lime green colour from her massive collection. I tried to take a picture to complete this narrative, but all the pictures made my hands look old and gnarly. And this is supposed to be a happy story.

So I'll end it here: not too late to go to bed and do some reading.

* Constance's laundry basket. This very same can -- from Ikea c. 1991-- also served as my laundry basket when I was a teenager. An heirloom!

** Rice pasta. I'm still off the wheat.

P.S. The fridge is fixed. It was a small flukey thing that didn't cost a lot of money. AND I CLEANED THE DAMNED THING. Fridge, freezer, inside and out. That, perhaps, is the point of this story.

Backyard (in)fertility

This is the only thing that grew in my garden this summer.

Besides having no siblings, it also refuses to grow any bigger.

Magical cookery skills

Ben just returned to the pot to help himself to another bowl of chili. He told me, "Wow, it's super good." (I haven't tried it yet; he's eating early so he can go off to kin-ball.)

I told him it was vegetarian. He said "What? There's no meat in it? It tastes SO meaty."

Slurp, slurp, chomp.

Ready to go to the Ball

What happens when you leave a two-year old boy alone with a 13-year old girl.

Rather elegant, wouldn't you say? He's even nailed the nonchalant princess pout.

Wheat free

I've been wheat-free for nearly four weeks now, and I sure wish I had something exciting to report. I haven't noticed any particular physical changes, nor have I found it a mental or domestic challenge. Wheat has been extremely easy to give up.

I guess that itself is exciting news.

Probably the transition has been easy and the effects minimal because I've actually been transitioning away from wheat products for a long time now. No cereal for breakfast or sandwiches for lunch, and my junk foods of choice are dark chocolate and salty nuts. (Both of which remain firmly entrenched in my diet.) The key change has been that now I can't pop Tim's leftovers (grilled cheese or pb&j sandwiches) into my mouth when he runs from the table. Nor can I cave to a pb toast craving. But sandwich lunches for for Tim and toast for me were already less-than-daily occurences, so no big.

And, it turns out that some of the few substitutes I've had to find for, say, pizza crust, burger buns, and chocolate cake, are WAY BETTER than the wheaty versions. A fantastic discovery: socca bread, a flatbread made with chickpea flour and water. We've used it for pizza crusts and burger buns, and everyone in the family has declared it a superior product. Then Constance made a chocolate cake with three ingredients: chocolate (a blend of semi-sweet and unsweetened), butter, and eggs. It was amazing. Better than the flourless chocolate cake we had at Taylor's the previous weekend.

And these.

They may look like your standard peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, but no! They are flourless! (Also dairy-less). Just nut butter (in this case, a mix of natural peanut butter and sunflower seed butter), sugar, baking powder, an egg, and chocolate chips. Mix it up, throw 'em in the oven and OMFG. (Yes, I gave up on the sugar-coating partway through.)

Anyway, despite the lack of drama (or because of it?), I'm quite attached to this wheat-free diet. I think I'll keep it. I'm not foisting it on the rest of the family, but because I do most of the shopping and cooking, everyone benefits.

Pay liday git-a-car tennay rack

"Play little guitar tennis racquet."

The current obsession in our household (ie: the fixation of the toddler) is playing guitar. Air guitar will do in a pinch, but using one of the little tennis-racquet-type toys is the preferred mode. (Ben has squirreled away the paper jamz guitar in a bout of sibling rivalry, and I haven't snapped a picture yet of the tennis racquet guitar.)
The guitar fixation started with watching the live musical guests on Mamma Yamma, specifically Serena Ryder and Sloan. Tim has learned most of the words to the chorus of Little Bit of Red, and will dance around for ages just playing guitar and singing.

Today, this evolved into him having ME play "liday git-a-car tennay rack" while singing the Serena Ryder song, while he played piano.

Sitting on the Radio Flyer enables him to scoot from the high notes to the low notes easily. (The bench is missing in a failed attempt to keep him from climbing up onto the top of the piano.) Curiously, while Tim holds his tennis racquet guitar all low on his hips like a cool dude, he insists that I hold it like a ukelele. Seriously! I tried the hipster stance, and he's all "no Mommy! Up! Up!". So I get a cool kid, but don't get to be cool myself. Figures.

Ah, ben oui Gabby!

Constance is teaching Tim French by having him imitate her phone conversations. It's extremely cute; his intonation is dead-on. Tim's word for telephone: tadalome.

Elephant? Adalint.
Yogurt? Yo-yo baby (single-serve cup), or big yo-yo (from the carton)
Cat? Wawa ticky.
Museum? Meeyoom.
Juice? Toot.
Bus? Beep beep. (Usually "big beep beep".)

Today as we were cuddled up for naptime, we had this conversation:

Tim: "Meck in Mommy big boobie" [Milk in Mommy's boobie]
H: Where did the milk go?
Tim: "Tim gank meck" [Tim drank the milk]
H: "When did you drink Mommy's milk?"
Tim: "Beebee Tim." [Baby Tim]
H: "What did the milk do to you?"
Tim: "Make tong and hety." [Made me strong and healthy]

Aside from experimenting with hitting, refusing to eat at mealtime, and denying the existence of the potty, two is pretty awesome.

In the 'hood

Our neighbourhood is sketchy at best. We suspect the across-the-street neighbours of running a grow-op. I have been chased by pitbulls while jogging (and wasn't surprised at all). I've almost toppled the stroller in potholes and broken sidewalks. We are awakened nightly by the sound of either drunken shouting in the street, or muffler-less cars going from zero to sixty up our residential street.

But there are up-sides. Within a ten minute walk of our house (on quiet, residential, albeit potholed streets) are three grocery stores, a mall, a health food store, a butcher, a library, four playgrounds, two public outdoor pools, two splash pads and a wading pool, all three kids' schools, and this:

A lake!

Great for throwing

Great for hiking

Not to mention rock climbing!*

The Gatineau Park is practically in our yard. I go there several times a week either alone on a run or running or walking with Tim in the stroller -- or just playing at the lake. The lake is actually the closest part of the park to us, and it's perfectly hidden and lovely... right in the middle of the city!

Strangely, we haven't taken up cross-country skiing yet, even though we could practically carry our skis (if we had them) to the trailhead. Maybe this year. (That is what we say every year.)

* The whole time Tim was climbing this steep rocky path, he was singing "Bo on the go! Bo on the go!" (Theme song from a kids show that's about moving and being active. Tim thought he was a superhero!)

Vroom vroom

Although it appears his hair is blowing in the wind, it's actually just bedhead. (To be fair, I had bedhead, too.)

We scored a cheap deal on a membership to the Children's Museum last Christmas, and we visit every few weeks. Tim is learning and growing so quickly that each time we go, his experience of the activities are totally different. Today was the first time he engaged with focus on activities for extended periods of time (10 or 15 minutes in one place!): making onion tortillas in the Mexican hut, shingling and patching the doghouse, cooking and serving food in the café. Previously, he'd mostly just run around enjoying the varied and colourful environment, poking his head in here and there. (Though the cafe has always been a hit. For a long time now he's enjoying pouring me a pretend coffee, clinking "cheers!", and pretend-sipping vigorously.) Now, he's finally getting the hang of playing.

The time, it's certainly zooming by.

Oh Natural

On Labour Day, we drove out to a farm near Carleton Place to pick up a side of pork. Or, as we've been calling him, Our Happy Pig.

I didn't get any pictures of the fairly cute and gregarious Yorkshires, from which herd Our Happy Pig was culled. Nor did I get any pictures of the beef cattle roaming in the open fields behind the barn (whom we will revisit with less innocent intention next year.)

But we all enjoyed getting a tour of the farm, seeing the other animals, and chatting with Farmer Dave (who left Nortel half a dozen years ago to take up farming on his fantastic 150 year old farm.)

So the pork? Is amazing. We've only dug into a couple packages of loin chops, but they are just amazing. tender, juicy, flavourful. And guilt-free. This pig, it lived the way pigs are meant to. In a big open pen, running around in the mud and grass, being fed delicious real-food-slops.  

We'd been avoiding grocery store meat for some time, and even alternating meating-eating and vegetarian/vegan-eating dinners in order to minimize the amount of unhealthy (in the broadest sense). Now we have a freezer full of loin chops, smoked hams, sausages (the guy from the Sausage Kitchen makes the sausages!), bacon, and ground pork, which we can enjoy knowing we are supporting natural agriculture.

Next year, beef.

Also! I had my first taste of fresh, unpasteurized milk the other night. Not at the farm; at bookclub. (Bookclub is made up of many midwives - there was bound to be a granola or two in the bunch.) OMG, fresh milk tastes amazing, AND I got the contact info for the farmer who supplies it. We'll see where this leads...

From the list of "Don'ts"

Um, no Tim. That's NOT allowed.

I love naptime

One of the best things about staying home with my "baby" is getting to put him down for his naps. It used to be a dreaded time of the day: will he go down? How much will we fight? Will he stay asleep?

Since we consolidated into one nap a day (a year ago?), and in particular since we stopped nursing (March 18), afternoon naps have been predictable and the routine for going to sleep pretty straightforward -- though time consuming. The thing about it taking a long time is: is doesn't matter! We don't have anything else to do but wash hands, choose stories, read stories, one more story Mommy, cuddle up, chat, toss and turn, wata  [water] Mommy, again wata, cuddle up, toss a bit more, cuddle, Zzzzzz.... It can take an hour from the time we start up the stairs until I come back down to eat a quiet lunch by myself.

But whatever. It's so cozy, up there lying on the bed reading stories. Tim's starting to read along, filling in the words to his favourite stories, pointing out things in the pictures, telling me the ending. It's actually... fun.

And lately, when we've turned out the light and I lay down to cuddle up, Tim (sometimes after a bit of tossing and turning) squirms right into my chest, puts his cheek on my cheek, wraps both arms around my neck, sighs quietly and falls asleep like that. It's heaven.

Hack, hack

I've had a terrible cough for two weeks now. It's not so bad during the day, but has been keeping me up at night. I'm skeptical of cough medicine, but have been taking it before bed anyway. Still, the up-at-all-hours. I'm exhausted, and have given up exercise. (Coinciding with Tim's break from nursery school, at least.)

At least the kids are back to school: McPie enjoys mornings with them, so I've been sleeping in.

Since my cough started, Tim caught and recovered from croup. (Heck, he probably caught it from me.) In three days! Kid has a killer immune system.

Last night, in a last ditch effort, Sweetie McPie stayed up late to whip up a batch of homemade soup (carrot & fennel), and instructed me to drink it all day today. He insists it's the cure we've been waiting for.

At any rate, the soup is delicious.

Up and down the ladder

I have just had a random but sort of interesting realization.

Since becoming a parent (the timing could be a coincidence, but I think not), I have dropped a stage or two down on Maslow's hierachical pyramid of needs. Check it out.

I don't think I ever quite tipped into self-actualization mode, certainly not fully, but as most educated and socially and financially independent westerners, I was solidly working the esteem angle. Now, I'm all about love and belonging, and nothin' but. Screw achievement, just give me a little intimacy!

But the craziest thing is, I can't decide if this is an improvement or deterioration. Maybe both.

Curious to realize that the ladder doesn't just work the one way.

Freedom for all

We have recently re-discovered the bus. And guess who LOVES the bus? We all do!

Tim and I took our first ride together last week, destination Byward Market. He was very excited as we walked over to the bus stop; very patient as we waited for the bus; and thrilled to sit a seat beside the window looking at everything.

Lucky for me he loved it all -- as soon as we were too far from home to walk back, I realized I'd left my wallet at home. I had return fare in my pocket, but no wallet nixed any plans we had for treats and shopping. Since Tim seemed so content, we just stayed on the bus for the whole route (about 40 minutes) -- through downtown Ottawa and back to our house. We got off, I retrieved my wallet, and we went back to the bus and waited for another. Tim couldn't have been happier to get on ANOTHER bus! Once in the market, pizza for lunch and gelato for dessert was just icing on the cake.

The next week, Constance finished her exams and began contemplating the summer ahead of her. She takes public transit to school, and has taken it a few times to destinations nearby, and all her friends live around here. But every other week, she'll be in Aylmer -- seemingly far, far away from friends and accessible shopping while her mom is at work and unable to chauffeur. So, we hatched a plan to figure out how to bus it to Aylmer and back. I agreed to accompany her on a round trip to Les Mamans. It was perfect for all of us. Constance had the security of a parent, and I had an excuse for an morning activity, and Tim was about to enjoy Public Transit Nirvana: riding the bus with his beloved CoCo.

The adventure was an all-around success. The trip was easy, we were served coffee and snacks at the other end, and we made it back in one piece. Constance is now confident of her summer independence, and I know I can take Tim places like the market, the Children's Museum, or Maman's place without having to book a car and lug a car seat, while keeping the young fella entertained.

Enjoying some tasty juice:

This was Tim's expression for most of the trip. It belies his enthusiasm:

Nodding off a little:

Steelguts

So, I bought a package of dulse a few weeks ago, having heard about it's wondrous health properties and thinking that it might offer new and exciting snacking possibilities.

But dulse? Is disgusting. I am the furthest thing from a fussy eater, but my god is that stuff grody. I tried it out on the kids, and they were on board with the revulsion.

Except Tim. Dude will actually EAT that stuff! Okay, not many bites before saying "all done" (it's quite salty). But when offered on later occasions, he'll happily munch a few bites.

Given that he'll eat his bodyweight in smoked oysters or sundried black olives, I probably shouldn't be surprised.

I am not a tea-drinker (or a fun playtime pal)

I really want to be a tea drinker. The idea is both cozy and romantic. But every time I make myself a cup of tea, it's too hot to drink so I set it aside... and inevitably forget about it until it's too cold for consumption.*

Okay, this happens 99% of the time. I actually just finished drinking a cup of jasmine green tea, and this success was so major in my little world that it seemed worth writing about. Yes, that is about the size of my world these days. Tiny, but happy.

Beside tea success, I also had some toy success today. Lately, (as in since always), Tim hasn't been too into playing with toys. We've never seemed to be able to get the good ones. Or I'm not very good at facilitating his play with toys without having to be a constant and active participant which is not handy when supper needs cooking. Tim's favourite activity is Mama reading a book to him, and while I do enjoy this and we spend plenty of time throughout the day thus engaged, Tim is certainly old enough to enjoy "alone time" and use his little brain for solo play... freeing Mama up for such exciting activities as "laundry time" and "bathroom cleaning time" or even a little "eyebrow plucking time".

And frankly, the contents of the tupperware, utensils, and pots and pans cupboards being strewn all over the house is getting a bit old.

So, I thought it was time to try getting Tim a good toy. However, I hate shopping for so many reasons, including the stress of thinking I'm about to spend good money crap that going to go to waste. (Maybe this is why Tim doesn't have many toys to begin with.)

Long story shortened slightly: after painful perusal of the aisles at Toys R Us, we settled on a toy drill. Battery-powered seemed to be the key. The fact that a simple button-push causes it to make a noise similar to the coffee grinder and hand blender (Tim is obsessed with both - morning smoothies are a big event) was a big selling feature.

So far, so good. Tim actually refused to stop drilling for lunch, so the new toy is now sullied with tomato sauce.

* Somehow this does not happen with coffee, even though the milk AND the coffee in my latté are heated within an inch of their lives. Perhaps because I'm so in love with coffee that I'm willing to risk burning all the buds off my tongue rather than wait 3 more minutes for the blessed nectar? Or because once coffee is made my mind refuses to think about anything else until that first sip has been taken?