Tidbits from the past

I found this post in my drafts folder: from nearly two years ago. It's a good remembery, and I realize my mom is right - I need to write all this stuff down. Because I didn't remember this at all, and Ruby is even wackier than Tim was...

 ~ ~ ~ ~
(July 2013)

Now that we seem to be in the "winter" of the tantrum lifecycle, I'm able to sit back and enjoy some of the zaniness that Four Years Old has to offer.

For example.

Tim is running around with a blanket tied around his neck and flowing over his shoulders and down his back: he is a Superhero. He asks if there is anything I need help with (because Superheroes help people, don't you know.) He helps do a little sweeping, then I ask him what he'd like his Superhero name to be. He pauses to think.

"Kevin," he says, finally.

"What about a real superhero name, you know, like Mighty T or something like that?" I counter.

"No, I want it to be Kevin." And off he flies.

And then, he's rocker dude, sporting a shiny guitar, making up a hardcore tune to "It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring..." And then he decides that the really rock'n'roll thing to do would be to put on some mascara. Only, he can't exactly remember what it's called, so he asks if he can have "those eyelashes that aren't really eyelashes, but go on your eyes?" (Only it's extra cute because he pronounces it "eyelasses".) After some hesitation, I acquiesce, and he's surprisingly calm about holding his eyes still and open while I apply the makeup. Then Tim smiles winningly at me, opens his eyes extra wide and asks:

"Am I beautiful now?" (I assure him that he was already beautiful, before the mascara.)

Au contraire

On the other hand, some days I know nothing. The following conversation is typical.

Driving up the Gatineau Parkway today, Tim pointed out the window to a clearing in the woods. "Is that a golf course," he asked.

"Nope," I replied.

"What is it?"

"It's a sort of park, in the woods."

"No," Tim said. "It's a golf course."

"Uh, no... it's a park. Or a forest." (I was trying to cover a few bases, to maximize my chance of success.)

"NO, IT'S A GOLF COURSE!!"

(And yes, the all-caps signifies shouting.)

Omniscience

Tim still believes that I know everything. For real. He does not accept "I don't know" as an answer from me. Actual conversation:

"How was gymnastics camp?"
"Good."
"What did you do there?"
"Tell me what I did at gymnastics today." (Completely earnest.)
"Um... I don't know, I wasn't there."
"TELL ME WHAT I DID AT GYMNASTICS!"

Lessons learned

Well. Didn't we have quite a day yesterday.

Back in December, I applied for a govvie job as an editor at the NRC. I got screened in and scheduled to do a pre-interview editing test. McPie came home from work to stay with the kids in the afternoon while I drove all the way out to the NRC for the two-hour test. We'd been trying to get Ruby to take milk from a bottle, with little success. (She'd progressed from spitting it out to chewing the nipple in amusement, but no real drinking.) I left them with a little milk in a bottle just in case, but we knew it wouldn't be much help. So I headed out, thinking I'd be gone about three hours, four tops.

Cue winter snowstorm. It took me THREE HOURS to drive home. I was DYING the whole way, thinking of the chaos that must be happening at home: it's dinner time, McPie home alone with a starving baby and potentially volcanic kid. When I burst in the door six hours after leaving, I braced myself for the worst.

I was met with silence. Then a soft "Hi Sweetie!" from upstairs, and McPie emerged looking completely sane and undisheveled. He ducked back into our room and returned with a very happy looking Doobie-doo.

WTF?

Apparently my child prefers attention to food. She was happy all day, as long as she was entertained. She even went down for a nap. (Of course, Tim threw a bit of a hissy fit because I came home "too early", but we managed to shut him down without too much trouble.)

Then McPie made supper, we put the kids to bed, I shoveled the driveway, and we settled in for a glass wine and enjoying the fact that all was right with the world.

And I learned that I do not want to take a job that reqiures me to commute across the city. Winter storms (and other inclement weather) are not unusual up here, and I do not want to revisit that white-knuckled drive again. Ruby may not need my milk that bad, but my kids need me for other reasons, and I'm not going to live my life that far away from them.

Amen.

While I'm here are other recent milestones:

Tim seems to have rounded the corner from three to four. His crazy tantrums are much less frequent, and they are almost always defusable (is that a word) by way of reason. Thank god. The little personality he's becoming is more and more visible and vibrant. He's truly becoming himself, and himself is starting to put it all together.

We caught Ruby making adorable mouth movements: opening and closing her mouth while smiling. It was new and sweet and very soon a clear indication that she's trying to "talk". She's imitating our talking mouths, and starting to spit out syllables. True baby babble. It's awesome. I will try to get it on video.

Child('s) play

I have a confession to make: I don't like playing with my kid. There. I said it. (Does that make me a terrible stay-at-home-mom?)

There are a couple of reasons I don't like playing with my kid. First, kid games are kinda boring. I totally appreciate observing my child learn and discover, and I'm happy to learn with them. But take the simplest concept (say, falling down in a funny way, or doing somersaults), and repeat x 1000 times = ugh! Enough already!

But more than that: my kid is a bitch. He doesn't always play nice. He's kinda bossy. I usually get bitched at for doing it wrong (even when I'm imitating him exactly; other times, I can't understand wtf he wants me to do). Or heaven forbid, I try to bow out due to fatigue (usually mental), or the baby is screaming. Like today, we were playing -- apparently -- belly flop. And throwing myself horizontally into the air and landing spread-eagled on the futon mattress on the floor was painful, especially as I was still in my pj's (ie: no bra, still lactating). So I fell knees first, instead of full lay-out. Cue TimmyTantrum™.

Fun.

Luckily, Tim has an accomplice on the horizon.

Miss Ruby cannot keep her eyes off her brother. Better still if he's moving. She's DYING to play those boring, physical games. I can't quite tell yet whether she'll be the type to happily take his shit, or definitely take no shit... But I'm confident it will be one or the other.

Then all I'll have to worry about is keeping them in peanut butter and jelly sammiches.

Neurology lesson

(While cuddling up after a nasty tantrum caused by the sadness of Dad going to work.)

Tim: "You're getting on my nerves."
Me: "You mean, I'm bugging you?"
Tim: "No, you're getting on my happy nerves."

Sigh.

Growing up

Ben just came up with his laundry and needed to "have it done" asap, because he had no pants left. I suggested h throw it in himself -- something he hasn't done here before. I sent Tim in to supervise.

Tim showed Ben where the soap was, how to put it in the machine, then turned the washer on for Ben.

I've been saying lately that sometime it feels like I'm living with two 3-year olds. Today, I guess it was more like two 12-year olds. :-)

Let it snow

Before the Xtreme cold wave hit, we enjoyed some good playtime in the snow. It is hilarious watching a toddler play in the snow! I let Tim loose in the backyard, and the snow itself was the toy/activity/play structure. He just stomped around in the six fresh inches of white stuff: stumbling, falling, making angels, throwing handfuls in the air... Whatever, it was the most fun ever!

After awhile though, it inevitably came time for sledding. Wherein Mommy pulls kid on a sled around the snowy block. Again. And again. It was good exercise for me, as most sidewalks weren't shovelled at all. And on our jaunt, Tim made an astute scientific observation (perhaps his first). Looking up, he exclaimed:  "Mommy! The 'no is coming out of the clouds!"

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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?

Our little elf

I picked up a seasonal topper for Tim at the dollar store today. He had it on for half an hour before a) I realized I should take a picture, and b) he realized he had it on. Of course, he realized he had a hat on his head the moment he saw me trying to take a picture. I was too quick for him, though!

But he continued to be cute for the rest of lunchtime.