So apparently, if you don't post for a few months, the spammers come and get you. They put comments in random posts, thinking you won't notice.
I NOTICE!! I DELETE YOU!! HAPPILY!!
So for the sake of dissuading the spammers, I shall post. Though I've still not a great deal to say. I'm going through something of a depressive period, and I can't organize my thoughts coherently. It's easier not to write. But write, I shall. For it is now apparent that the penalty for writer's block is spam in droves, and that is unacceptable to me.
Feel free to skip this nonsensical post if you like. I just haven't got much to say.
*sigh*
First things first: I got scholarships! Two scholarships! One of them is a coveted national award. Annually, there's only one of these granted in each level. And I took it for Level 4. So I'm happy. There's cash involved. Now I can afford to buy tires. Because they continue to be punctured on a fairly regular basis. I still don't know why, but continue my conspiracy theories.
Secondly, J was moved into Pre-Kindergarten at school. I thought I had another year of preschool, but Pre-K is here. I'm getting used to it. He likes it a lot.
J says many funny things these days. But by the time I get to my computer, I've usually forgotten. I live in something of a fog lately, I'm afraid. But off the top of my head:
J: When I get big, I'm going to paint all the street lights green.
J: Can we go to the AC/DC Centre?
Note: This is J's term for the "ACT Centre", a pool and rec centre that he really enjoys.
J: Today, we talked about our favourite books at show and tell. Thali's favourite book is called 'Diarrhea Mouse'.
T: I think you mean 'Diary of a Mouse'.
J: No. It's 'Diarrhea Mouse'.
T: 'Diary of a Mouse'?
J: No. 'Diarrhea Mouse'.
H: J. Is the book about a mouse that sits on the toilet all the time and does absolutely nothing else? Or is it about a mouse that writes in a little book?
J: Oooooh ... [giggle] It's about a mouse that writes.
T: Ah. 'Diary of a Mouse'.
The final thing that I shall report on is N. Who is sick. Constantly. He's having teething issues. He had a flu bug a week or two ago. He now has a cold with fever. He is rather inconsolable. Last night, he even cried during bathtime. Poor little Pineapple.
There. I posted. Now quit spamming my comments, you nasty robots!
Showing posts with label said. Show all posts
Showing posts with label said. Show all posts
Friday, November 13, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
At least he knows what's most important
J: My teacher swallowed a frog.
T: You mean she has a frog in her throat?
J: Yes. She swallowed it but it got stuck. And now, she can't eat her french fries.
T: I see.
T: You mean she has a frog in her throat?
J: Yes. She swallowed it but it got stuck. And now, she can't eat her french fries.
T: I see.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Shopping FAIL! Bedtime WIN!
Today, we met up with our friend L and her girls I & G at Ikea. L was a bit late arriving, since she had to come from the other side of the city, and also since she drives like someone's grandma. (Seriously, L - the gas is the little skinny pedal on the right. ;))
We decided to meet up for lunch. And then, we thought it would be fun to let the three big kids play together in Small Land while the rest of us shopped. J is finally tall enough to be admitted to Small Land. When we found out he could get in, H and I were over the moon! (Imagine the prospect of shopping sans preschooler!) But it was not to be. Because J, after taking far too long to eat and tying everyone up for a prolonged period, refused to go into Small Land. And he started having a tantrum, so we picked him up and just left. And poor L had to shop all by herself while we took J for a much needed nap. She must have been so lonely, shopping all alone, with not even a screaming preschooler for company. ;)
As we drove, we passed what appeared to be a carnival. Big rides. Looked like fun. J wanted to go and play, but we weren't about to have him miss his nap after his earlier display. Besides, there are those pesky height restrictions to think of. J is still pretty short for his age, the result of his continued refusal to eat, and he probably wouldn't come up to most ride height restriction lines. So we took a pass.
H: No, J. You have to be a certain height to ride.
J: I AM a certain height!
Well, he's right. We're all a certain height. But he still didn't get to go on any rides.
**********
Sadly, today's Ikea experience was more familiar to us than we'd like to admit. These days, we just don't get to spend quite enough time with other adults without children present. As a result, four-year old logic is starting to make sense to us. Like so:
J: Look at the big nose on my watch pointing over here.
H: That's an arm, J. Not a nose.
J: But it's on the watch's face!
Incidentally, does anyone know why watches have arms on their faces? Were they designed by Pablo Picasso or something?
**********
J has many interests. Mostly balls and blocks. But sometimes, other toys get his attention. Like paints. Or Star Wars.
H: Maybe they just know we're busy with our two?
J: D2.
(Seriously. Think about it. Say it out loud. It makes sense; I promise.)
**********
In other news, tonight N had a bath. While that doesn't sound like much, it was significant. It was the first time that N did not sob uncontrollably during bath time. He sat up in the tub and splashed happily, chasing after his little toy seal and spraying me with water. He frequently stood up for hugs, smiling happily. And he would lie back, knowing Mommy would catch him, and then roll over onto his tummy to crawl around in the warm soapy water. Such a fun time!
Then the kids went to bed. J wanted snuggles, and I happily complied. Always with a tune in my head, I lay next to my little guy with my eyes closed and I hummed. And J looked at me with love in his eyes, and sang me an impromptu lullaby:
Go to sleep.
Go to sleep.
Go to sleep, and sing.
I love you.
I love you so much.
So go to sleep, and sing.
You will be my mommy forever.
You will be my mommy forever.
And I love you forever.
Now go to sleep.
Sometimes, J can be a bit of a demon. But tonight's lullaby really made up for a lot.
Good night, J. Good night, N. I love you.
We decided to meet up for lunch. And then, we thought it would be fun to let the three big kids play together in Small Land while the rest of us shopped. J is finally tall enough to be admitted to Small Land. When we found out he could get in, H and I were over the moon! (Imagine the prospect of shopping sans preschooler!) But it was not to be. Because J, after taking far too long to eat and tying everyone up for a prolonged period, refused to go into Small Land. And he started having a tantrum, so we picked him up and just left. And poor L had to shop all by herself while we took J for a much needed nap. She must have been so lonely, shopping all alone, with not even a screaming preschooler for company. ;)
As we drove, we passed what appeared to be a carnival. Big rides. Looked like fun. J wanted to go and play, but we weren't about to have him miss his nap after his earlier display. Besides, there are those pesky height restrictions to think of. J is still pretty short for his age, the result of his continued refusal to eat, and he probably wouldn't come up to most ride height restriction lines. So we took a pass.
H: No, J. You have to be a certain height to ride.
J: I AM a certain height!
Well, he's right. We're all a certain height. But he still didn't get to go on any rides.
Sadly, today's Ikea experience was more familiar to us than we'd like to admit. These days, we just don't get to spend quite enough time with other adults without children present. As a result, four-year old logic is starting to make sense to us. Like so:
J: Look at the big nose on my watch pointing over here.
H: That's an arm, J. Not a nose.
J: But it's on the watch's face!
Incidentally, does anyone know why watches have arms on their faces? Were they designed by Pablo Picasso or something?
J has many interests. Mostly balls and blocks. But sometimes, other toys get his attention. Like paints. Or Star Wars.
H: Maybe they just know we're busy with our two?
J: D2.
(Seriously. Think about it. Say it out loud. It makes sense; I promise.)
In other news, tonight N had a bath. While that doesn't sound like much, it was significant. It was the first time that N did not sob uncontrollably during bath time. He sat up in the tub and splashed happily, chasing after his little toy seal and spraying me with water. He frequently stood up for hugs, smiling happily. And he would lie back, knowing Mommy would catch him, and then roll over onto his tummy to crawl around in the warm soapy water. Such a fun time!
Then the kids went to bed. J wanted snuggles, and I happily complied. Always with a tune in my head, I lay next to my little guy with my eyes closed and I hummed. And J looked at me with love in his eyes, and sang me an impromptu lullaby:
Go to sleep.
Go to sleep.
Go to sleep, and sing.
I love you.
I love you so much.
So go to sleep, and sing.
You will be my mommy forever.
You will be my mommy forever.
And I love you forever.
Now go to sleep.
Sometimes, J can be a bit of a demon. But tonight's lullaby really made up for a lot.
Good night, J. Good night, N. I love you.
Friday, May 01, 2009
It's all fun and games until the dinosaur tackles you and rips out your throat
J has a dinosaur. A big, black and white, remote controlled robotic dinosaur with artificial intelligence components. You push a button (conveniently located right on the beast's unmentionables) to start and stop the thing. But you must (MUST) have the remote control in hand to deal with the ramifications. For without the remote control, the dinosaur acts of its own volition. With its fierce jaws aimed at your jugular, the dinosaur will violently shake its tail and roar angrily before it lunges, leaping across the room. And honestly, it can be pretty difficult to get close enough to turn the fool thing off again.
Today, I was in the kitchen feeding baby N when J, alone in the living room, pushed the Button of Doom as the remote control sat, unattended, on the opposite end of the room.
The dinosaur took off like a shot, roaring and shaking its tail, as it aimed itself at J. Cleverly, J evaded the beast by leaping onto the couch. The fierce creature then turned its attention kitchen-ward. It bounded across the room, presumably aiming for N's apple sauce and Cheerios, but was temporarily distracted by the basement door. Which it tried to eat. In an effort to protect his household, J took the opportunity to bravely run toward the dinosaur. Grabbing the creature by its violently shaking tail, J attempted to pull it away from the door. And the dinosaur turned. It lowered its head. It roared at J. Not to be bested by a toy animal, J stood firm and, raising himself to his full thirty-eight inches, shouted "Stop, Dinosaur! I command you!!"
Not surprisingly, the dinosaur was unimpressed. It advanced on J, who backed away quickly while continuing to scream "I SAID STOP!! STOP DINOSAUR!! I COMMAND YOU!!!" And so, I protected my child. I snuck up behind the out-of-control animal as it menacingly approached my 4-year old. I reached under its tail, and I hit the power button, stopping the mad beast dead in its tracks and quite possibly saving my child from a tragic dinosaur-related end.
And then, of course, J got mad at me for turning off his dinosaur when he wanted to play with her. Ungrateful little so-and-so.
(We're sending it to preschool next week for show-and-tell. Because we're awesome like that.)
Today, I was in the kitchen feeding baby N when J, alone in the living room, pushed the Button of Doom as the remote control sat, unattended, on the opposite end of the room.
The dinosaur took off like a shot, roaring and shaking its tail, as it aimed itself at J. Cleverly, J evaded the beast by leaping onto the couch. The fierce creature then turned its attention kitchen-ward. It bounded across the room, presumably aiming for N's apple sauce and Cheerios, but was temporarily distracted by the basement door. Which it tried to eat. In an effort to protect his household, J took the opportunity to bravely run toward the dinosaur. Grabbing the creature by its violently shaking tail, J attempted to pull it away from the door. And the dinosaur turned. It lowered its head. It roared at J. Not to be bested by a toy animal, J stood firm and, raising himself to his full thirty-eight inches, shouted "Stop, Dinosaur! I command you!!"
Not surprisingly, the dinosaur was unimpressed. It advanced on J, who backed away quickly while continuing to scream "I SAID STOP!! STOP DINOSAUR!! I COMMAND YOU!!!" And so, I protected my child. I snuck up behind the out-of-control animal as it menacingly approached my 4-year old. I reached under its tail, and I hit the power button, stopping the mad beast dead in its tracks and quite possibly saving my child from a tragic dinosaur-related end.
And then, of course, J got mad at me for turning off his dinosaur when he wanted to play with her. Ungrateful little so-and-so.
(We're sending it to preschool next week for show-and-tell. Because we're awesome like that.)
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Proof that urine is acidic
J is a poor eater. You may remember me discussing it at some length. He doesn't eat; therefore, he doesn't grow. He is now the smallest kid in his class. We've been working on it. Different strategies have been employed, doctors and nutritionists have been consulted, medications have been used. But J still just doesn't eat enough. It's a problem.
J is on an appetite stimulant. It seems to work marginally, but does not provide a great improvement. It also makes him tired. The doctor assures us that this is a good thing; kids experience most of their growth when they are asleep. And so, J needs a lot of sleep. He sleeps well at night, and also has an afternoon nap. Sometimes, it's easy to get J to nap. Other times, it's more difficult. Usually on the weekends, J would prefer not to nap at all. Various delay tactics will be employed as J works to stay awake in the afternoon. If he succeeds, he will be grumpy and act out as the day wears on; eventually, he will start getting in trouble and will have to go to bed early because he's too tired to carry on.
Today is just such a day.
J's usual delay tactics are just not especially noteworthy. Really, any kid trying to delay bedtime will employ most of the same tactics; his are no different. But today, one of his stalling techniques was somewhat unique. It must therefore be shared, and preserved, and probably brought up again in the future, possibly on his wedding day.
And so it goes.
After being tucked in, J climbed out of bed and started going through his stuffed animal toybox, eventually finding an animal that makes noise. He then played with the noisy animal for a bit, ran around his room, and kicked his wall several times. Eventually, he grew bored and started knocking on his bedroom door and shouting (his ever-so-subtle signal that "IT'S TIME TO GET UUUUU-UUP"). I went up, and told him that it was still nap time. J insisted that he needed to get up to give Daddy a kiss. I called H up so that J could kiss him (much to the chagrin of J who wanted to go downstairs to kiss Daddy). J then said that he needed to pee. So I took him to the bathroom, and then tucked him back in. He then insisted that he was thirsty and needed a drink of water.
Now here's where it got interesting.
J: I need a drink of water because my throat hurts. My throat is soooo sore, because I needed to pee soooo badly. So that's why I need a drink of water.
I couldn't really relate. Must be a guy thing?
J is on an appetite stimulant. It seems to work marginally, but does not provide a great improvement. It also makes him tired. The doctor assures us that this is a good thing; kids experience most of their growth when they are asleep. And so, J needs a lot of sleep. He sleeps well at night, and also has an afternoon nap. Sometimes, it's easy to get J to nap. Other times, it's more difficult. Usually on the weekends, J would prefer not to nap at all. Various delay tactics will be employed as J works to stay awake in the afternoon. If he succeeds, he will be grumpy and act out as the day wears on; eventually, he will start getting in trouble and will have to go to bed early because he's too tired to carry on.
Today is just such a day.
J's usual delay tactics are just not especially noteworthy. Really, any kid trying to delay bedtime will employ most of the same tactics; his are no different. But today, one of his stalling techniques was somewhat unique. It must therefore be shared, and preserved, and probably brought up again in the future, possibly on his wedding day.
And so it goes.
After being tucked in, J climbed out of bed and started going through his stuffed animal toybox, eventually finding an animal that makes noise. He then played with the noisy animal for a bit, ran around his room, and kicked his wall several times. Eventually, he grew bored and started knocking on his bedroom door and shouting (his ever-so-subtle signal that "IT'S TIME TO GET UUUUU-UUP"). I went up, and told him that it was still nap time. J insisted that he needed to get up to give Daddy a kiss. I called H up so that J could kiss him (much to the chagrin of J who wanted to go downstairs to kiss Daddy). J then said that he needed to pee. So I took him to the bathroom, and then tucked him back in. He then insisted that he was thirsty and needed a drink of water.
Now here's where it got interesting.
J: I need a drink of water because my throat hurts. My throat is soooo sore, because I needed to pee soooo badly. So that's why I need a drink of water.
I couldn't really relate. Must be a guy thing?
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Will the circle be unbroken? Um ... NO!
Today, H picked up J from preschool. Inexplicably, J burst into song. "Santa Claus is Coming to Town". (Yes, in April.) This drew attention from one of J's teachers, who laughed and then relayed a little story from today's "circle time".
In "circle time", the class takes part in various activities. Show and tell ... music ... yoga ... Spanish class ... stories ... the list goes on and on. It's a very active preschool. Today in circle, the kids were playing a game called "Who stole the cookies". The idea is to rhythmically say: "Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? [Name of child] stole the cookies from the cookie jar". And there are a few more silly little lines, with fun and innocent rhyming responses from the child in question, and then you keep going down the line of children until you've done all of the names. It's very cute.
All good, right? Except J doesn't like being falsely accused. So ...
Class: Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? J stole the cookies from the cookie jar.
J: (sporting his best "mad-face") I DID NOT!!!
Teacher: It's just a game, J. We go down the line. So next, we're going to say that B stole the cookies from the cookie jar.
J: Well, then maybe he did it. But I didn't! **
J quite enjoys circle time. Only problem: he and his best little preschool friend A aren't allowed to sit together any longer. They chat and play during the planned activities, and I've been told that they get quite disruptive. I also note in recent days that they are also no longer allowed to eat lunch together. But they still get lots of good play time in, so I think they're pretty happy all told.
**********
** Note: The following is how "Who stole the cookies" should actually play out:
Class: Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? [Child] stole the cookies from the cookie jar.
Child: Who, me?
Class: Yes, you.
Child: Couldn't be.
Class: Then who?
In "circle time", the class takes part in various activities. Show and tell ... music ... yoga ... Spanish class ... stories ... the list goes on and on. It's a very active preschool. Today in circle, the kids were playing a game called "Who stole the cookies". The idea is to rhythmically say: "Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? [Name of child] stole the cookies from the cookie jar". And there are a few more silly little lines, with fun and innocent rhyming responses from the child in question, and then you keep going down the line of children until you've done all of the names. It's very cute.
All good, right? Except J doesn't like being falsely accused. So ...
Class: Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? J stole the cookies from the cookie jar.
J: (sporting his best "mad-face") I DID NOT!!!
Teacher: It's just a game, J. We go down the line. So next, we're going to say that B stole the cookies from the cookie jar.
J: Well, then maybe he did it. But I didn't! **
J quite enjoys circle time. Only problem: he and his best little preschool friend A aren't allowed to sit together any longer. They chat and play during the planned activities, and I've been told that they get quite disruptive. I also note in recent days that they are also no longer allowed to eat lunch together. But they still get lots of good play time in, so I think they're pretty happy all told.
** Note: The following is how "Who stole the cookies" should actually play out:
Class: Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? [Child] stole the cookies from the cookie jar.
Child: Who, me?
Class: Yes, you.
Child: Couldn't be.
Class: Then who?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The Tail of Sleeping Beauty (and that is not a typo)
J loves the story of "Sleeping Beauty". He will often act out parts. Now, I don't remember the story this way, but here was tonight's rendition:
J: (calling from upstairs) Mommy. Be Sleeping Beauty.
T: Okay. (pretends to sleep) I am Sleeping Beauty.
J: (coming down the stairs) I'm a shark!
T: (completely loses it, then pretends to sleep again)
J: (leans over T) RRRRROOOOOAAAAARRR!
(pause)
J: (climbs up and touches T's face) WAKE UP!
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But I can't kiss you. Because I'm a shark.
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But I have sharp teeth!
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But ... but ... DADDY!!!
H arrives, to find T pretending to sleep on the couch and a frustrated J dressed in a hooded towel that strongly resembles a shark.
J: You're Sleeping Beauty's true love! Kiss her!
H complies, and T awakes. Moments later:
H: J! Don't wrap your tail around that bag!
J: But I can't hold it with my fins.
T: (completely loses it and almost chokes on her gum)
Mr. Shark then works to postpone bedtime. He gives Sleeping Beauty presents for her birthday (which is not for several months, in case anyone was wondering). She receives a bag full of stuffed animals actually belonging to baby N, a Merlin magnifying glass (which J tells me is "so you can see any wet spots"), and a dump truck. Score!
And then, when he realizes it is not actually Sleeping Beauty's birthday, Mr. Shark swims away with all the presents tied to his tail. He informs Sleeping Beauty that she does not get any presents; she has to wait for her birthday.
Of course, it all ends very badly. A tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. There is a horrible bedtime brawl. A cat's tail is pulled. Screaming ensues. There are tears and headaches. And someone has to go to bed without a story. And The Tail of Sleeping Beauty is nearly ruined.
Nearly. But not quite. For H and I will always remember the sight of J, swimming away with several bags of toys tied around his hooded towel tail. And that's worth a lot.
J: (calling from upstairs) Mommy. Be Sleeping Beauty.
T: Okay. (pretends to sleep) I am Sleeping Beauty.
J: (coming down the stairs) I'm a shark!
T: (completely loses it, then pretends to sleep again)
J: (leans over T) RRRRROOOOOAAAAARRR!
(pause)
J: (climbs up and touches T's face) WAKE UP!
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But I can't kiss you. Because I'm a shark.
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But I have sharp teeth!
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But ... but ... DADDY!!!
H arrives, to find T pretending to sleep on the couch and a frustrated J dressed in a hooded towel that strongly resembles a shark.
J: You're Sleeping Beauty's true love! Kiss her!
H complies, and T awakes. Moments later:
H: J! Don't wrap your tail around that bag!
J: But I can't hold it with my fins.
T: (completely loses it and almost chokes on her gum)
Mr. Shark then works to postpone bedtime. He gives Sleeping Beauty presents for her birthday (which is not for several months, in case anyone was wondering). She receives a bag full of stuffed animals actually belonging to baby N, a Merlin magnifying glass (which J tells me is "so you can see any wet spots"), and a dump truck. Score!
And then, when he realizes it is not actually Sleeping Beauty's birthday, Mr. Shark swims away with all the presents tied to his tail. He informs Sleeping Beauty that she does not get any presents; she has to wait for her birthday.
Of course, it all ends very badly. A tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. There is a horrible bedtime brawl. A cat's tail is pulled. Screaming ensues. There are tears and headaches. And someone has to go to bed without a story. And The Tail of Sleeping Beauty is nearly ruined.
Nearly. But not quite. For H and I will always remember the sight of J, swimming away with several bags of toys tied around his hooded towel tail. And that's worth a lot.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
And then, the elephant boy was eaten by a dragon, and peace reigned throughout the land. At least, until the crows came ...
Lived by the sea
And caught up on the other one
In the lands of Connor Lee.
Now. Have a 4-year old sing that 428,686,297,886 times in a row at top volume while a baby shrieks inconsollably and you and your spouse try to have a serious discussion about the meaning of life, and you'll be roughly where I am now.
Also: You should totally take the 4-year old with you to the vet's office to buy cat food. It's fun. Trust me. It goes something like this:
Eventually, our kind receptionist-type friend gave J a shrimp-shaped cat toy as a compromise, just to make him stop flipping out. A very pissed-off looking J left the vet's office, shrimp in hand. Other people commented that he was very cute. H offered to sell him, but there were no takers. I can't imagine why.
As an aside, in J's bedtime story this evening, a large, long-legged white bird delivered a baby elephant to Mrs. Jumbo. Now, what do we call that large, long-legged white bird again? Well, according to J, that bird is called a crow. And honestly, hearing that the baby elephant was delivered by a mutant albino crow really changes the feel of "Dumbo" for some reason. But I don't know why.
And on that note, when H and I were teasing J this evening and telling him that he was actually an elephant, he argued with tremendous force and perfect tone.
Oooh; he almost had it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
It is inappropriate to have a "favourite large yucky bug"
Today, I had to phone H at work and have him come home. I've had a severe headache since Saturday morning. My positive thinking and careful Tylenol dosing have not helped it to pass. I couldn't cope with the pain today, so I couldn't take care of the kids properly. I also couldn't drive myself to the doctor because I could barely see. H loaded the kids into the van and drove me to the doctor, then returned home to wait for me to call for a ride home. And I waited at the doctor's office for over two hours before I was seen.
It's a severe sinus infection. Hurts like hell. Imagine someone attacking your eye socket with a crochet hook. Yeah. It's kind of like that. But now, I have drugs. The doctor says I should be feeling better by the weekend.
As painful as this is, though, I think it may actually be preferrable to the torture H had to endure at the hands of our children while I was away.
*********
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: (singing) Rock-a-bye baby ...
J: Daddy!
H: ... in the treetop ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Daddy!!
H: ... the cradle will ...
J: DADDY!!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: WHAT, J?!?!
J: I want you to pretend to be the big giant cockroach from "Men in Black".
H: ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: Rock-a-bye ...
J: DADDY!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: FINE! (In a really low voice) I am the big giant cockroach from "Men in Black".
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Big giant cockroach?
H: *sigh* Rock-a-bye baby ...
J: BIG GIANT COCKROACH FROM "MEN IN BLACK"?!
H: Yes, J!!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Cockroaches are my favourite kind of large yucky bug, because they have big sharp teeth coming out of their cheeks.
H: Good. Is that all?
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: ... when the wind blows ...
J: COCKROACH!!!
**********
That? Or the sinus infection? I think it's a toss-up. But what would you prefer?
It's a severe sinus infection. Hurts like hell. Imagine someone attacking your eye socket with a crochet hook. Yeah. It's kind of like that. But now, I have drugs. The doctor says I should be feeling better by the weekend.
As painful as this is, though, I think it may actually be preferrable to the torture H had to endure at the hands of our children while I was away.
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: (singing) Rock-a-bye baby ...
J: Daddy!
H: ... in the treetop ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Daddy!!
H: ... the cradle will ...
J: DADDY!!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: WHAT, J?!?!
J: I want you to pretend to be the big giant cockroach from "Men in Black".
H: ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: Rock-a-bye ...
J: DADDY!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: FINE! (In a really low voice) I am the big giant cockroach from "Men in Black".
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Big giant cockroach?
H: *sigh* Rock-a-bye baby ...
J: BIG GIANT COCKROACH FROM "MEN IN BLACK"?!
H: Yes, J!!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Cockroaches are my favourite kind of large yucky bug, because they have big sharp teeth coming out of their cheeks.
H: Good. Is that all?
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: ... when the wind blows ...
J: COCKROACH!!!
That? Or the sinus infection? I think it's a toss-up. But what would you prefer?
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Yeah ... 'cause THAT's what's important there ...
Watching "Sleeping Beauty" with J tonight. And ... well ... you know the scene where the beautiful princess pricks her finger on the spindle and collapses to the ground, near death? And the evil witch sneers in triumph right before she disappears into a big ball of evil green aura? Happens right around the 3-minute mark ...
J: She forgot her ball!!
(He was genuinely alarmed by that. Couldn't have cared less about the plight of the beautiful 16-year old princess, of course.)
J: She forgot her ball!!
(He was genuinely alarmed by that. Couldn't have cared less about the plight of the beautiful 16-year old princess, of course.)
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Random Thursday Thoughts
Because I missed Tuesday ...
N crawls now. Not well, but he's working on it. And yesterday, I awoke to him standing up in his crib for the very first time. Holding the top rail for support, of course. He is 9 months old now. And quite the little charmer.
N loves his exersaucer. He practically lives in it. For some reason, he hates the exersaucer at my parents' place, and he screams whenever he is put in it. But the exersaucer at our place is most helpful.
J's eating is improving now, thanks to some very militant techniques that H and I are employing. It's quite torturous for us, really. But at least he's taking in more food. I hope he'll soon just eat properly, without all the drama.
Yesterday, J wanted to sing "The Last Saskatchewan Pirate". He wanted me to sing with him. We were halfway through the verse about Mountie Bob being laid off and joining the pirate crew as "Salty Bob", when J stopped and announced: "This song sure has a lot of fancy words". (He's right; it does.) J has decided that next Halloween, he wants to be The Last Saskatchewan Pirate. He would also like us to dress N up as Salty Bob. This could be interesting.
Still reading my auditing course. Hard haul. Most of the readings are honestly quite dull and poorly worded. And then there's that whole repetitive nonsense. It's frequent. Very difficult to be motivated.
We are in a small house, and I have to study in the family room, where the TV is on every evening. You know that phenomenon when you're writing while someone is talking, and you end up writing down what you hear instead of what you were thinking? (What's that called again?) Well anyway, that same "writing" principle also applies to reading. I know, because last night, my auditing reading suddenly became half "Auditing, An International Approach" and half "Law & Order", and it read: "The general purpose of auditing is to commit assisted suicide". I concur.
Got the materials for my next course today. A friend taking it currently had told me that she figures there are about one-quarter of the readings as compared to other Level 4 classes. Should be good. The text is cute. It's so tiny after what I've gotten used to. I held it up, called it "dainty", and compared it to a wallet. J is convinced it is a baby textbook, meant especially for him. He figures he can pretend to study from his baby textbook while I use the real one, when it arrives. Hilarious!
J attends a very nice preschool. Today, all the kids were supposed to pick a subject and then tell a one-sentence "story". The teachers compiled the stories into a list on the wall, which looked kind of like this:
Child #1 - Mittens: You wear them when it's cold.
Child #2 - Cars: They drive down the street.
Child #3 - Dinosaurs: They eat eggs, and toast and jam, and carrots.
Child #4 - Shells: You find them at the beach.
Want to guess which child was J? Anyone?
N crawls now. Not well, but he's working on it. And yesterday, I awoke to him standing up in his crib for the very first time. Holding the top rail for support, of course. He is 9 months old now. And quite the little charmer.
N loves his exersaucer. He practically lives in it. For some reason, he hates the exersaucer at my parents' place, and he screams whenever he is put in it. But the exersaucer at our place is most helpful.
J's eating is improving now, thanks to some very militant techniques that H and I are employing. It's quite torturous for us, really. But at least he's taking in more food. I hope he'll soon just eat properly, without all the drama.
Yesterday, J wanted to sing "The Last Saskatchewan Pirate". He wanted me to sing with him. We were halfway through the verse about Mountie Bob being laid off and joining the pirate crew as "Salty Bob", when J stopped and announced: "This song sure has a lot of fancy words". (He's right; it does.) J has decided that next Halloween, he wants to be The Last Saskatchewan Pirate. He would also like us to dress N up as Salty Bob. This could be interesting.
Still reading my auditing course. Hard haul. Most of the readings are honestly quite dull and poorly worded. And then there's that whole repetitive nonsense. It's frequent. Very difficult to be motivated.
We are in a small house, and I have to study in the family room, where the TV is on every evening. You know that phenomenon when you're writing while someone is talking, and you end up writing down what you hear instead of what you were thinking? (What's that called again?) Well anyway, that same "writing" principle also applies to reading. I know, because last night, my auditing reading suddenly became half "Auditing, An International Approach" and half "Law & Order", and it read: "The general purpose of auditing is to commit assisted suicide". I concur.
Got the materials for my next course today. A friend taking it currently had told me that she figures there are about one-quarter of the readings as compared to other Level 4 classes. Should be good. The text is cute. It's so tiny after what I've gotten used to. I held it up, called it "dainty", and compared it to a wallet. J is convinced it is a baby textbook, meant especially for him. He figures he can pretend to study from his baby textbook while I use the real one, when it arrives. Hilarious!
J attends a very nice preschool. Today, all the kids were supposed to pick a subject and then tell a one-sentence "story". The teachers compiled the stories into a list on the wall, which looked kind of like this:
Child #1 - Mittens: You wear them when it's cold.
Child #2 - Cars: They drive down the street.
Child #3 - Dinosaurs: They eat eggs, and toast and jam, and carrots.
Child #4 - Shells: You find them at the beach.
Want to guess which child was J? Anyone?
Monday, February 09, 2009
UPDATED: Why children are the best!
Tonight found me wearing the same clothes for the third day in a row. (N and I have been sick ... don't judge me!) The clothes in question are an old pair of grey maternity sweatpants (no, I'm not pregnant; they're just comfy) and an oversized black Elton John concert shirt. N had thrown up oatmeal and applesauce down the front of the shirt this morning, and I was too tired to change it, so I'd just kind of sponged it off and carried on.
Tonight, I decided to work out even though I wasn't feeling well. Workouts give me energy. We recently acquired a Wii Fit, and I love using it. I've lost a little bit of weight, but I'm still classed as obese. It takes time. Must be consistent. So I did about half an hour of expert level rhythm boxing tonight. Worked up a good sweat. Tired. Sore arms. Sweating profusely. I collapsed on the couch in a heap and tried to catch my breath.
J was watching from his perch on the other couch. And as soon as I had flopped my ill-clad, obese, sweaty self down, he sweetly said: "You're so pretty, Mommy".
Good boy. I think I'll keep him.
**********
On an unrelated note, someone landed on my blog today by googling the words: "youtube how do I get out of this chicken".
Dear Googler,
I hope you have now somehow found the assistance that you required. But I'm unclear as to how you could have watched a self-help video on Youtube while trapped inside a chicken. Must have been a very large chicken. Please enlighten me. Please also advise as to where I may purchase just such a chicken. It could be useful for large family dinners.
Sincerely,
Momma T
PS - "How do I get out of this chicken" was actually in quotes. What is truly alarming is that the unfortunate googler landed on this post. I don't know why.
Tonight, I decided to work out even though I wasn't feeling well. Workouts give me energy. We recently acquired a Wii Fit, and I love using it. I've lost a little bit of weight, but I'm still classed as obese. It takes time. Must be consistent. So I did about half an hour of expert level rhythm boxing tonight. Worked up a good sweat. Tired. Sore arms. Sweating profusely. I collapsed on the couch in a heap and tried to catch my breath.
J was watching from his perch on the other couch. And as soon as I had flopped my ill-clad, obese, sweaty self down, he sweetly said: "You're so pretty, Mommy".
Good boy. I think I'll keep him.
On an unrelated note, someone landed on my blog today by googling the words: "youtube how do I get out of this chicken".
Dear Googler,
I hope you have now somehow found the assistance that you required. But I'm unclear as to how you could have watched a self-help video on Youtube while trapped inside a chicken. Must have been a very large chicken. Please enlighten me. Please also advise as to where I may purchase just such a chicken. It could be useful for large family dinners.
Sincerely,
Momma T
PS - "How do I get out of this chicken" was actually in quotes. What is truly alarming is that the unfortunate googler landed on this post. I don't know why.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Johnny Appleseed IS Father Christmas
J decided that we should all say grace at breakfast this morning. And so, he "taught" us to sing the special grace he learned at preschool. Feel free to sing along!
Oh, the Lord is good to me
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need
The sun, and the rain, and the appleseed
The Lord is good to me
Jolly Old St. Nicholas
Um ... erm ...
Thank you ...
Ummm ...
Ah-men.
J's theological training continues to progress nicely. For while he confuses Johnny Appleseed with Santa Claus, at least he no longer ends his prayers by shouting "What the heck!" Progress, peoples!
Oh, the Lord is good to me
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need
The sun, and the rain, and the appleseed
The Lord is good to me
Jolly Old St. Nicholas
Um ... erm ...
Thank you ...
Ummm ...
Ah-men.
J's theological training continues to progress nicely. For while he confuses Johnny Appleseed with Santa Claus, at least he no longer ends his prayers by shouting "What the heck!" Progress, peoples!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The incredibly mediocre pretender
J is growing up. I love it and hate it all at once. The boy who, a few short months ago, would always say "I were" is now not only saying "I was" but is actually correcting the poor grammar of random cartoon characters.
J: How come he says "I did saw a puddy tat" instead of "I did see ..."?
(My BAAAAAAABY!!!!! *sob*)
And N is getting bigger and bigger, too. Today, we packed up his old clothes. My last baby. This kind of thing makes me happy and sad all at once. I'm glad he's growing, but I miss my tiny baby. Is it good? Is it bad? It's a toss-up, really.
**********
We took the kids to the ice festival. It was only slightly affected by the uncharacteristically warm weather. A chunk of one melty ice sculpture fell to the ground with a large clunk as we walked by. But J still got to go down the ice slides. And see the ice maze. And the dragon and dinosaur sculptures, and of course the big castle which they guarded, which was quite spectacular. So he had lots of fun. Hard to push a stroller through slush and crowds, but all told a good experience.
When we left, J decided that he was going to pretend to be the ice dragon. And H was to be the dinosaur.
H: And what's mommy? Is she the castle? Or the slide?
J: No. Mommy is the Ice Princess.
H: Oh!
J: And the dragon and the dinosaur will fight each other.
H: Really?
J: Yes. But the dragon will protect the Ice Princess.
H: Okay.
J: The dragon says "ROAR"! And the dinosaur says "ROAR"!
H: Okay. ROAR!
J: ROAR! And the dragon and the dinosaur fight.
H: And what does the Ice Princess do?
J: Nothing. She doesn't do anything. She just sits there in the chair.
H: She just sits there and does nothing while we try to kill each other?
J: Yes.
T: I was totally cut out for this job.
**********
Clearly, J is really into imaginative play now. But he's not so good with improvisation. As a result, J's particular brand of imaginative play is a bit tough to take for any extended period. It goes something like this.
J: I'm going to be the Mommy Ghost. And you be the Baby Ghost.
T: Ok. I'm Baby Ghost.
J: Hi. I'm Mommy Ghost.
T: Hi Mommy.
J: No! Mommy Ghost!
T: Oh, sorry. Hi Mommy Ghost.
J: Hi Baby Ghost. (pause) Baby Ghost?
T: Yes, Mommy Ghost?
J: Can you say "Where's my Mommy Ghost"?
T: Where's my Mommy Ghost?
J: Now laugh at this!
T: Ha ha ha ha ha!!
J: Good Baby Ghost. Now you can go to preschool!
And it only gets worse from there.
J: Daddy. Can you pretend to be the wishing well with the big purple light?
H: Ok. I'm the wishing well with the big purple light.
J: No! Talk like the wishing well!
H: (in the standard very deep voice he uses for all things inanimate) I'm the wishing well with the big purple light.
J: Hi wishing well with the big purple light.
H: Hi J.
J: Wishing well with the big purple light?
H: Yes, J.
J: Why do you have a big purple light?
H: I don't know. I just do.
J: No! You say "Because I'm the wishing well"!
H: Oh. Ok. Because I'm the wishing well.
J: Oh! (pause) Wishing well with the big purple light?
H: J, can I please talk to Mommy for a minute?
J: No! Wishing well with the big purple light?
It is at this point that H and I generally consider searching for a wishing well with a big purple light so we can jump in and just really wish for it to kill us quickly. But clearer heads prevail and we continue to play. If under protest.
**********
J likes things of the same basic shape and colour to be together. Especially if they are different sizes. He groups these things together all the time. And if you try to put anything away, he will flip out about it. His logic is quite rational, really.
J: No! This is the mommy yellow ball, and this is the baby yellow ball! They have to stay together!!
**********
A kid who constantly looks for the loophole, you really have to be specific when giving J directions. It is not sufficient to just say, for example, "Don't wake up your brother" ... he will plead ignorance when he does so. He needs detail. Such as:
T: J, please don't wake your brother. Don't scream his name. Or anything else. Or raise your voice. Or smack him on the head. Or pat him on the head. In fact, smacking or patting him at all is generally not okay right now. Don't pinch his cheeks. Or his hand. Or any other part of him. Or pull on his clothes. Or his feet. Or his hands. Or his head. Or anything else somehow attached to him. And don't push his swing. Or stop his swing. Or hammer, or saw, or screw his swing. Or jump up and down in front of him and shake his swing. Or throw your toys at his swing. Or at him. Or in his general direction. Or down the stairs. Or into that tree. Or any other tree. Maybe just don't throw things in general, okay? Just. Please. Don't. Wake. Your. Brother.
But he still finds a way. Oh yes, he does.
**********
And so it goes. This is our life. It's a good life. Really.
And I guess the good thing about them growing up is that their quality of imaginative play and interpretation is bound to improve as they age. Right?
Right?
Please?
J: How come he says "I did saw a puddy tat" instead of "I did see ..."?
(My BAAAAAAABY!!!!! *sob*)
And N is getting bigger and bigger, too. Today, we packed up his old clothes. My last baby. This kind of thing makes me happy and sad all at once. I'm glad he's growing, but I miss my tiny baby. Is it good? Is it bad? It's a toss-up, really.
We took the kids to the ice festival. It was only slightly affected by the uncharacteristically warm weather. A chunk of one melty ice sculpture fell to the ground with a large clunk as we walked by. But J still got to go down the ice slides. And see the ice maze. And the dragon and dinosaur sculptures, and of course the big castle which they guarded, which was quite spectacular. So he had lots of fun. Hard to push a stroller through slush and crowds, but all told a good experience.
When we left, J decided that he was going to pretend to be the ice dragon. And H was to be the dinosaur.
H: And what's mommy? Is she the castle? Or the slide?
J: No. Mommy is the Ice Princess.
H: Oh!
J: And the dragon and the dinosaur will fight each other.
H: Really?
J: Yes. But the dragon will protect the Ice Princess.
H: Okay.
J: The dragon says "ROAR"! And the dinosaur says "ROAR"!
H: Okay. ROAR!
J: ROAR! And the dragon and the dinosaur fight.
H: And what does the Ice Princess do?
J: Nothing. She doesn't do anything. She just sits there in the chair.
H: She just sits there and does nothing while we try to kill each other?
J: Yes.
T: I was totally cut out for this job.
Clearly, J is really into imaginative play now. But he's not so good with improvisation. As a result, J's particular brand of imaginative play is a bit tough to take for any extended period. It goes something like this.
J: I'm going to be the Mommy Ghost. And you be the Baby Ghost.
T: Ok. I'm Baby Ghost.
J: Hi. I'm Mommy Ghost.
T: Hi Mommy.
J: No! Mommy Ghost!
T: Oh, sorry. Hi Mommy Ghost.
J: Hi Baby Ghost. (pause) Baby Ghost?
T: Yes, Mommy Ghost?
J: Can you say "Where's my Mommy Ghost"?
T: Where's my Mommy Ghost?
J: Now laugh at this!
T: Ha ha ha ha ha!!
J: Good Baby Ghost. Now you can go to preschool!
And it only gets worse from there.
J: Daddy. Can you pretend to be the wishing well with the big purple light?
H: Ok. I'm the wishing well with the big purple light.
J: No! Talk like the wishing well!
H: (in the standard very deep voice he uses for all things inanimate) I'm the wishing well with the big purple light.
J: Hi wishing well with the big purple light.
H: Hi J.
J: Wishing well with the big purple light?
H: Yes, J.
J: Why do you have a big purple light?
H: I don't know. I just do.
J: No! You say "Because I'm the wishing well"!
H: Oh. Ok. Because I'm the wishing well.
J: Oh! (pause) Wishing well with the big purple light?
H: J, can I please talk to Mommy for a minute?
J: No! Wishing well with the big purple light?
It is at this point that H and I generally consider searching for a wishing well with a big purple light so we can jump in and just really wish for it to kill us quickly. But clearer heads prevail and we continue to play. If under protest.
J likes things of the same basic shape and colour to be together. Especially if they are different sizes. He groups these things together all the time. And if you try to put anything away, he will flip out about it. His logic is quite rational, really.
J: No! This is the mommy yellow ball, and this is the baby yellow ball! They have to stay together!!
A kid who constantly looks for the loophole, you really have to be specific when giving J directions. It is not sufficient to just say, for example, "Don't wake up your brother" ... he will plead ignorance when he does so. He needs detail. Such as:
T: J, please don't wake your brother. Don't scream his name. Or anything else. Or raise your voice. Or smack him on the head. Or pat him on the head. In fact, smacking or patting him at all is generally not okay right now. Don't pinch his cheeks. Or his hand. Or any other part of him. Or pull on his clothes. Or his feet. Or his hands. Or his head. Or anything else somehow attached to him. And don't push his swing. Or stop his swing. Or hammer, or saw, or screw his swing. Or jump up and down in front of him and shake his swing. Or throw your toys at his swing. Or at him. Or in his general direction. Or down the stairs. Or into that tree. Or any other tree. Maybe just don't throw things in general, okay? Just. Please. Don't. Wake. Your. Brother.
But he still finds a way. Oh yes, he does.
And so it goes. This is our life. It's a good life. Really.
And I guess the good thing about them growing up is that their quality of imaginative play and interpretation is bound to improve as they age. Right?
Right?
Please?
Friday, December 12, 2008
Parents just don't understand
J talks a lot. And his speech is fairly advanced for a 3-year old.
J: Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. I really appreciate that.
His advanced speech was noted by impartial third parties at his most recent nutritionist appointment. This week, we switched over from the nutritionists we'd previously seen and started going to a clinic with occupational therapists who have trained with Dr. Kay Toomey on the steps to eating hierarchy. The new clinic has a different feel, and I believe it will be more helpful. They have already given us a number of tips to help J through his eating problems, and to help us with the stresses that come along the way.
J: The TV is disturbing me from drinking my milk and eating my banana.
We always knew to keep distractions to a minimum. No toys at the table. No eating in front of the television. But we didn't know that playing with food could be a really good thing ... using food in different ways ... familiarizing him with textures. Gradually, we move toward eating. Slowly, the food moves closer to his mouth. In time, he will get there.
For us, the key is to stay neutral. No begging. No stressing. No anger. No comments on the food that could be seen as positive or negative. So instead of "This is yummy", we say other things; "This is crunchy", for example, or "This is yellow". Or ...
T: Who’s on this cup?
J: Mickey Mouse!
T: Right! That’s Mickey Mouse! And where does he live?
J: I … um … I don’t know.
T: Disneyland.
J: Oh! Disneyland!
T: Right!
J: But why does he have a wand?
T: Because he’s Wizard Mickey.
J: Oh! He’s Wizard Mickey?
T: Yes. That’s one of his characters.
J: Oh, okay. But why is he a Lizard?
T: He’s not a Lizard. He’s a Wizard.
J: Oh!
Already a master manipulater, J really knows how to get us riled up in a big hurry. It takes some effort to maintain composure when he acts out. But we're getting better at it, with practice. For now, we work on our understanding. J is very advanced in a lot of ways and, in others, he struggles. He has a different learning style from the norm. He is extremely active. He can be very sarcastic, or very literal, depending on the moment. He tests his boundaries in unique fashion, seeming to enjoy it when we get riled up. He pushes hard, trying to see if he can get us to change our minds and give in to his wishes. Life is a power struggle.
J: I need to pee pee.
T: Okay.
J: Upstairs.
T: Okay.
J: I want you to come with me!
T: No.
J: Please? I want you to come upstairs with me!
T: No. I'm not going upstairs.
J: Please?
T: No. You can use this potty.
J: I like upstairs bathroom!
T: Why?
J: Because. I think it's more yummier than the one down here.
T: You can go upstairs by yourself.
J: No, I want you to come with me, because I love you!
T: There's nothing wrong with this bathroom.
J: No, come upstairs so I can pee!
T: Pee down here if you want me to come with you.
J: WWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
J is a pretty unique kid, who doesn't follow the patterns we've come to expect in most other children that we know. He requires a different parenting style, and we are learning what must be done and adapting to his needs. Proper communication is key.
J: Is it toast?
T: Yup. Eat it, please.
J: What?
T: Your cinnamon toast.
J: No, I’m not!
Yeah. Proper communication. Key. Yeah ...
J: Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. I really appreciate that.
His advanced speech was noted by impartial third parties at his most recent nutritionist appointment. This week, we switched over from the nutritionists we'd previously seen and started going to a clinic with occupational therapists who have trained with Dr. Kay Toomey on the steps to eating hierarchy. The new clinic has a different feel, and I believe it will be more helpful. They have already given us a number of tips to help J through his eating problems, and to help us with the stresses that come along the way.
J: The TV is disturbing me from drinking my milk and eating my banana.
We always knew to keep distractions to a minimum. No toys at the table. No eating in front of the television. But we didn't know that playing with food could be a really good thing ... using food in different ways ... familiarizing him with textures. Gradually, we move toward eating. Slowly, the food moves closer to his mouth. In time, he will get there.
For us, the key is to stay neutral. No begging. No stressing. No anger. No comments on the food that could be seen as positive or negative. So instead of "This is yummy", we say other things; "This is crunchy", for example, or "This is yellow". Or ...
T: Who’s on this cup?
J: Mickey Mouse!
T: Right! That’s Mickey Mouse! And where does he live?
J: I … um … I don’t know.
T: Disneyland.
J: Oh! Disneyland!
T: Right!
J: But why does he have a wand?
T: Because he’s Wizard Mickey.
J: Oh! He’s Wizard Mickey?
T: Yes. That’s one of his characters.
J: Oh, okay. But why is he a Lizard?
T: He’s not a Lizard. He’s a Wizard.
J: Oh!
Already a master manipulater, J really knows how to get us riled up in a big hurry. It takes some effort to maintain composure when he acts out. But we're getting better at it, with practice. For now, we work on our understanding. J is very advanced in a lot of ways and, in others, he struggles. He has a different learning style from the norm. He is extremely active. He can be very sarcastic, or very literal, depending on the moment. He tests his boundaries in unique fashion, seeming to enjoy it when we get riled up. He pushes hard, trying to see if he can get us to change our minds and give in to his wishes. Life is a power struggle.
J: I need to pee pee.
T: Okay.
J: Upstairs.
T: Okay.
J: I want you to come with me!
T: No.
J: Please? I want you to come upstairs with me!
T: No. I'm not going upstairs.
J: Please?
T: No. You can use this potty.
J: I like upstairs bathroom!
T: Why?
J: Because. I think it's more yummier than the one down here.
T: You can go upstairs by yourself.
J: No, I want you to come with me, because I love you!
T: There's nothing wrong with this bathroom.
J: No, come upstairs so I can pee!
T: Pee down here if you want me to come with you.
J: WWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
J is a pretty unique kid, who doesn't follow the patterns we've come to expect in most other children that we know. He requires a different parenting style, and we are learning what must be done and adapting to his needs. Proper communication is key.
J: Is it toast?
T: Yup. Eat it, please.
J: What?
T: Your cinnamon toast.
J: No, I’m not!
Yeah. Proper communication. Key. Yeah ...
Thursday, December 11, 2008
You've got a friend in me
J and N had a doctor's appointment this week. Waiting in the doctor's office, J suddenly hugged N and said:
J: You're the best baby in the whole wide world. You're my best friend, and I'll never let anything happen to you.
I hope my boys are always this close. Aren't they cute?
Sorry for the brevity, and for my recent absence around my favourite blogs. Still sick. Back soon.
J: You're the best baby in the whole wide world. You're my best friend, and I'll never let anything happen to you.
I hope my boys are always this close. Aren't they cute?
Sorry for the brevity, and for my recent absence around my favourite blogs. Still sick. Back soon.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Da Victory and Da Feet
My exam is over. (HURRAH! HURRAH!)
I think it went pretty well. I lost several marks for careless errors, but that happens. I feel fairly certain that I passed. Probably with something in the 70's or maybe low 80's. Probably not high enough for scholarship money this year, but as long as I don't have to redo the class or re-write the exam, I'll count myself fortunate. Sad, though ... that scholarship sure would have been nice.
Marks get released January 27. I hate the long wait, but that's how it always is. Now, on to my next course ... Auditing. I hope I enjoy this one a bit more.
Since I have been released from my studying dungeon for the time being, I now have time to post this little anecdote.
**********
I took a brief study break one evening last week, and we went out for dinner as a family. I left the table for a short time to change N's diaper, and H entertained J.
There was a nice man sitting at a nearby table who thought J was pretty cute. Kept calling J "Batman", wanting to play peek-a-boo, that sort of thing. While I was gone, he caught J's eye, and he smiled and waved. And J flipped out. "Daddy, I'm scared", J cried out, before hiding in a teeny huddled mass in H's lap.
Once he felt more secure, he decided to strike up a converation with the nice man, who we will call Bert, for the sake of this entry.
J: My mommy broke her knee.
Bert: Did she?
J: Yes. She stepped on the cat and broke her knee.
Bert: Oh! Well ... Is the cat okay?
H: Yes, the cat is fine.
J: But she had to go down to heaven.
Okay, just to clarify this. The cat went to heaven because she'd had kidney failure for the past eight years and was starting to suffer. Not because I crushed her with my giant lard feet of doom.
Also, I know that heaven is "up". I've explained this on several occasions, but J seems unconvinced.
I think it went pretty well. I lost several marks for careless errors, but that happens. I feel fairly certain that I passed. Probably with something in the 70's or maybe low 80's. Probably not high enough for scholarship money this year, but as long as I don't have to redo the class or re-write the exam, I'll count myself fortunate. Sad, though ... that scholarship sure would have been nice.
Marks get released January 27. I hate the long wait, but that's how it always is. Now, on to my next course ... Auditing. I hope I enjoy this one a bit more.
Since I have been released from my studying dungeon for the time being, I now have time to post this little anecdote.
I took a brief study break one evening last week, and we went out for dinner as a family. I left the table for a short time to change N's diaper, and H entertained J.
There was a nice man sitting at a nearby table who thought J was pretty cute. Kept calling J "Batman", wanting to play peek-a-boo, that sort of thing. While I was gone, he caught J's eye, and he smiled and waved. And J flipped out. "Daddy, I'm scared", J cried out, before hiding in a teeny huddled mass in H's lap.
Once he felt more secure, he decided to strike up a converation with the nice man, who we will call Bert, for the sake of this entry.
J: My mommy broke her knee.
Bert: Did she?
J: Yes. She stepped on the cat and broke her knee.
Bert: Oh! Well ... Is the cat okay?
H: Yes, the cat is fine.
J: But she had to go down to heaven.
Okay, just to clarify this. The cat went to heaven because she'd had kidney failure for the past eight years and was starting to suffer. Not because I crushed her with my giant lard feet of doom.
Also, I know that heaven is "up". I've explained this on several occasions, but J seems unconvinced.
Monday, November 24, 2008
You say it's your b-day? HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
J hates birthdays.
Specifically, J hates his own birthday.
It's not the other children, nor the presents, nor the bright colours that J loathes so. And while he doesn't generally enjoy cake, he is not morally opposed to it and certainly does not object to it being eaten by others in his presence. Decorations and gift bags are lovely things for which J has an appreciation. But nonetheless, J hates birthdays.
J's agitation revolves around the birthday song. Well, not exactly the birthday song, specifically. In fact, J quite enjoys the birthday song and sings it with great gusto for much of the year. (Whether it's someone's birthday or not. Complete with the presentation of pretend birthday cakes that he's made from scratch, of blocks, socks, and anything else at hand.) It is only when said song is sung directly at him that he appears to take great offence. At that moment, he loses it. Tears and screaming abound. Don't believe me? See for yourself.
It has been this way for the past three years, and we are starting to get used to it. We wish it weren't so. We trust it will change some day. Some day, a group of happy smiling people singing "Happy Birthday" will not make J scream as though he were being tortured in a prison camp. Some day, J will no doubt enjoy the singing. But for the moment, we can only conclude that "Happy Birthday" was written by Satan himself specifically to torture our son (and therefore indirectly our entire family and all of our friends).
Yes indeed. J hates it when people sing "Happy Birthday" to him. So much so, in fact, that J has taken to reminding us that no one can sing "Happy Birthday" to him on his birthday. His reminders start earlier and earlier each year. Next year's reminder began today. With more than four months to go until J's birthday, he reminded me that no one may sing "Happy Birthday" to him on his birthday.
This did not go over well. Partly because I am every bit as stubborn as is my son. But mostly because it's fun to bug him, and I just can't seem to help myself. I'm hard up for entertainment right now, so this makes me happy.
**********
J: No one can sing "Happy Birthday" to me when it's my birthday!
T: Yes, they can.
J: NO! I WON'T LET THEM!
T: Too bad. We will all sing.
J: NOOOOOOOOO!! I WON'T LET YOOOOOOOUUUUU!!
T: People sing on birthdays. Get used to it.
J: I don't like that!
T: Tough. People will come by. And they'll all sing. Just to bug you.
J: NOOOO!
T: Yes.
J: I DON'T WANT THEM TO!!
T: Sucks to be you, then. They're going to do it anyway.
J: NOOOO!!!!
T: Yes. Loud. And off key.
J: They can't sing to me!
T: What was that?
J: No! Singing!
T: What? Extra singing?
J: No!! NO! SINGING!!
T: Oh. Okay. Extra singing. You've got it.
J: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Eventually, I got bored with this conversation. Sadly, J did not.
J: I won't let anybody sing "Happy Birthday" to me!
T: Well, then maybe they'll all just take your presents back to the store because you're rude.
J mulled this over for a moment, and then announced triumphantly:
J: But Santa Claus brings me presents!
(Ha! Showed you, you stupid woman. Santa can't take my presents back to the store. Because he makes them himself!!)
T: Santa Claus only brings you presents at Christmastime. Other people bring you presents for your birthday. Other people who like to sing "Happy Birthday" to you, and who don't like being yelled at for it, give you presents. If you're nice.
(Ha ha! Take that!)
J contemplated this unfortunate new development for a few moments.
J: (heavy sigh) Alright then. I'll let them sing to me.
My son, ladies and gentlemen. We've taught him well. "Do whatever you've got to do to get free stuff", we said. "Sell out. Sell like you've never sold before!" That's our family motto. Good thing J's picked up on it. We're so proud.
Specifically, J hates his own birthday.
It's not the other children, nor the presents, nor the bright colours that J loathes so. And while he doesn't generally enjoy cake, he is not morally opposed to it and certainly does not object to it being eaten by others in his presence. Decorations and gift bags are lovely things for which J has an appreciation. But nonetheless, J hates birthdays.
J's agitation revolves around the birthday song. Well, not exactly the birthday song, specifically. In fact, J quite enjoys the birthday song and sings it with great gusto for much of the year. (Whether it's someone's birthday or not. Complete with the presentation of pretend birthday cakes that he's made from scratch, of blocks, socks, and anything else at hand.) It is only when said song is sung directly at him that he appears to take great offence. At that moment, he loses it. Tears and screaming abound. Don't believe me? See for yourself.
It has been this way for the past three years, and we are starting to get used to it. We wish it weren't so. We trust it will change some day. Some day, a group of happy smiling people singing "Happy Birthday" will not make J scream as though he were being tortured in a prison camp. Some day, J will no doubt enjoy the singing. But for the moment, we can only conclude that "Happy Birthday" was written by Satan himself specifically to torture our son (and therefore indirectly our entire family and all of our friends).
Yes indeed. J hates it when people sing "Happy Birthday" to him. So much so, in fact, that J has taken to reminding us that no one can sing "Happy Birthday" to him on his birthday. His reminders start earlier and earlier each year. Next year's reminder began today. With more than four months to go until J's birthday, he reminded me that no one may sing "Happy Birthday" to him on his birthday.
This did not go over well. Partly because I am every bit as stubborn as is my son. But mostly because it's fun to bug him, and I just can't seem to help myself. I'm hard up for entertainment right now, so this makes me happy.
J: No one can sing "Happy Birthday" to me when it's my birthday!
T: Yes, they can.
J: NO! I WON'T LET THEM!
T: Too bad. We will all sing.
J: NOOOOOOOOO!! I WON'T LET YOOOOOOOUUUUU!!
T: People sing on birthdays. Get used to it.
J: I don't like that!
T: Tough. People will come by. And they'll all sing. Just to bug you.
J: NOOOO!
T: Yes.
J: I DON'T WANT THEM TO!!
T: Sucks to be you, then. They're going to do it anyway.
J: NOOOO!!!!
T: Yes. Loud. And off key.
J: They can't sing to me!
T: What was that?
J: No! Singing!
T: What? Extra singing?
J: No!! NO! SINGING!!
T: Oh. Okay. Extra singing. You've got it.
J: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Eventually, I got bored with this conversation. Sadly, J did not.
J: I won't let anybody sing "Happy Birthday" to me!
T: Well, then maybe they'll all just take your presents back to the store because you're rude.
J mulled this over for a moment, and then announced triumphantly:
J: But Santa Claus brings me presents!
(Ha! Showed you, you stupid woman. Santa can't take my presents back to the store. Because he makes them himself!!)
T: Santa Claus only brings you presents at Christmastime. Other people bring you presents for your birthday. Other people who like to sing "Happy Birthday" to you, and who don't like being yelled at for it, give you presents. If you're nice.
(Ha ha! Take that!)
J contemplated this unfortunate new development for a few moments.
J: (heavy sigh) Alright then. I'll let them sing to me.
My son, ladies and gentlemen. We've taught him well. "Do whatever you've got to do to get free stuff", we said. "Sell out. Sell like you've never sold before!" That's our family motto. Good thing J's picked up on it. We're so proud.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Master of the house
Once upon a time, there was a kingdom. In the kingdom lived a happy king and a happy queen. King H and Queen T could do whatever they wished. They had lots of money, slept late on weekends, and could watch any television programs that they chose. And there was much rejoicing throughout the land.
One day, a brave knight named Sir J arrived at the kingdom and there was much rejoicing. But Sir J screamed and cried and needed much care. And as he grew, he became a total crankypants. He took some of the money. And some of the sleep. And most of the television programming became much more cartoonish. King H and Queen T were happy to have Sir J in their kingdom, but they were also very tired, a fact that made them cross much more frequently. But King H and Queen T and Sir J all learned to live together, for the most part in peace and harmony, and life was mostly good.
A few years passed, and a baby named N arrived at the kingdom and there was much rejoicing. N was a good baby. A sweet baby. He loved to eat and sleep and be played with, and he rewarded all of his minions with many smiles and giggles. And though he too took some of the money and some of the sleep, the kingdom continued to function well. Everybody loved N, as he was very cute and very chubby and very happy. Sir J loved N very deeply, and sang to him, and offered him many toys. And despite the poverty, exhaustion, and cartoonish television programming, the kingdom was essentially a happy place.
And then N started to cut teeth. And he developed a loud and high pitched shriek, the likes of which has never been heard. And upon seeing how everyone raced to his aid when he made that noise, N decided to use it for everything. And the kingdom became a much louder place. King H and Queen T were very tired and cross. Even Sir J became frustrated with his beloved N. And while he continued to sing songs to N, they were delivered in loud staccato tones. Finally, having reached the conclusion that all babies cry all of the time, Sir J began to search for a solution.
**********
After a particularly bad night with resultant morning drama, this conversation was heard in the kingdom:
H: I didn't order a baby that cries all the time. It must have been you.
T: I didn't do it either. Maybe we could trade him in for another baby.
H: (incredulously) Another baby?
T: Or, you know, something else. Like maybe a fish tank.
H: Or magic beans.
J: Or a play-doh barber shop?
**********
And this is how Sir J became the owner of a brand new play-doh barber shop. You can't judge us. You weren't there.
One day, a brave knight named Sir J arrived at the kingdom and there was much rejoicing. But Sir J screamed and cried and needed much care. And as he grew, he became a total crankypants. He took some of the money. And some of the sleep. And most of the television programming became much more cartoonish. King H and Queen T were happy to have Sir J in their kingdom, but they were also very tired, a fact that made them cross much more frequently. But King H and Queen T and Sir J all learned to live together, for the most part in peace and harmony, and life was mostly good.
A few years passed, and a baby named N arrived at the kingdom and there was much rejoicing. N was a good baby. A sweet baby. He loved to eat and sleep and be played with, and he rewarded all of his minions with many smiles and giggles. And though he too took some of the money and some of the sleep, the kingdom continued to function well. Everybody loved N, as he was very cute and very chubby and very happy. Sir J loved N very deeply, and sang to him, and offered him many toys. And despite the poverty, exhaustion, and cartoonish television programming, the kingdom was essentially a happy place.
And then N started to cut teeth. And he developed a loud and high pitched shriek, the likes of which has never been heard. And upon seeing how everyone raced to his aid when he made that noise, N decided to use it for everything. And the kingdom became a much louder place. King H and Queen T were very tired and cross. Even Sir J became frustrated with his beloved N. And while he continued to sing songs to N, they were delivered in loud staccato tones. Finally, having reached the conclusion that all babies cry all of the time, Sir J began to search for a solution.
After a particularly bad night with resultant morning drama, this conversation was heard in the kingdom:
H: I didn't order a baby that cries all the time. It must have been you.
T: I didn't do it either. Maybe we could trade him in for another baby.
H: (incredulously) Another baby?
T: Or, you know, something else. Like maybe a fish tank.
H: Or magic beans.
J: Or a play-doh barber shop?
And this is how Sir J became the owner of a brand new play-doh barber shop. You can't judge us. You weren't there.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Momma got run over by a reindeer
So, an elk hit our van.
No. Not the other way around.
Last night, as we were driving down a dark stretch of road on our way home from the flu clinic, a suicidal elk leaped out of the bushes, raced to the road, and slammed its preposterously large form into the side of our van. I really didn't know they moved that quickly.
It survived. We survived. The van, I think, survived.
Initially concerned for the welfare of the animal, J became angry when he saw the damage to the van. "Reindeer!" J shouted sternly, "Why did you hit our van?!"
H swerved to avoid the elk. Thankfully there was no oncoming traffic. Because of H's evasive driving, we did not hit the beast head-on. And for that, we are thankful. Also, the antlers did not come through our windshield or my window. And, while the front end and passenger side of the vehicle are pretty messed up, damage appears to be contained to the front of the van. The back door doesn't appear to have even been hit. We are happy to all be alright. 'Cause the van is just metal, and doesn't matter as much as the rest of us.
But just to recap 2008 to date:
High risk pregnancy;
Abrupted placenta;
Prolonged bed rest;
Grumpy disability provider;
Kidney stones;
Hospital stays;
Precipitous birth;
Complications immediately post-birth;
Birth mom with cancer;
Financial constraints;
Broken knee (tibial plateau fracture);
Surgery and another hospital stay;
Painkillers;
Block fire;
Suicidal elk slams into van.
You ever have one of those years? I seriously can't wait for 2009!!
Later this week, we will be having elk burgers. Just you wait. I'll get him yet.
No. Not the other way around.
Last night, as we were driving down a dark stretch of road on our way home from the flu clinic, a suicidal elk leaped out of the bushes, raced to the road, and slammed its preposterously large form into the side of our van. I really didn't know they moved that quickly.
It survived. We survived. The van, I think, survived.
Initially concerned for the welfare of the animal, J became angry when he saw the damage to the van. "Reindeer!" J shouted sternly, "Why did you hit our van?!"
H swerved to avoid the elk. Thankfully there was no oncoming traffic. Because of H's evasive driving, we did not hit the beast head-on. And for that, we are thankful. Also, the antlers did not come through our windshield or my window. And, while the front end and passenger side of the vehicle are pretty messed up, damage appears to be contained to the front of the van. The back door doesn't appear to have even been hit. We are happy to all be alright. 'Cause the van is just metal, and doesn't matter as much as the rest of us.
But just to recap 2008 to date:
High risk pregnancy;
Abrupted placenta;
Prolonged bed rest;
Grumpy disability provider;
Kidney stones;
Hospital stays;
Precipitous birth;
Complications immediately post-birth;
Birth mom with cancer;
Financial constraints;
Broken knee (tibial plateau fracture);
Surgery and another hospital stay;
Painkillers;
Block fire;
Suicidal elk slams into van.
You ever have one of those years? I seriously can't wait for 2009!!
Later this week, we will be having elk burgers. Just you wait. I'll get him yet.
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