Wednesday, 29 November 2017
The search for the toddler holy grail
We had an appointment at the Children’s Hospital yesterday and since we are currently without a nanny I had the great pleasure (torturous task) of bringing both children. Our appointment was at the crack of dawn, 10am, we live in the city now so I thought if we got up by 8am we should be fine. I set my alarms and dozed off to what I was hoping would be a solid 8hr sleep. I know it was wishful thinking but I was being optimistic. 5am and the dog started going crazy, he was barking like a maniac and completely losing his shit. We tried everything to silence the beast but it was a complete waste of energy. He continued to growl and bark for the entire day into the evening because the people across the alley are having their shingles redone and clearly the roofers are a big danger to us. Anyway despite the intermittent barking the children remained asleep and I tried in vain to go back to sleep myself. I laid in bed clenching my eyes shut with pillows over my head and prayed sleep would fine me again. Just as I miraculously managed to doze off... Shane’s alarm started beeping. He is a snoozer, after the third snooze I told him he had better either turn off the alarm or get up otherwise I was going to Gone Girl him. I again attempted to find my dream world but the dog started puking all over the carpet. Finally I gave up and decided to start the day. I scrubbed the carpets and managed to pack the diaper bag before the kids woke up, of course at this point it was already 915am. I dressed the kids and threw some fruit bars at them. “Mommy something smells disgusting.” My adoring three year old lovingly informed me. I realized it was me, I smelled like dog puke. No time to shower so a quick once over with wet wipes and a clean bra/tshirt was the best I could do. We pulled in to the hospital only 13 minutes late. The appointment went well and the kids acted mostly human so when Isaac asked for chips I agreed. We got to the vending machine picked the chips we wanted and... I discovered my wallet was missing. I had left it at home in my work bag. Somehow we managed to avoid complete meltdowns and drove home to retrieve the wallet, I wasn’t off the hook though those chips were apparently essential to our continued existence here on earth. We drove to the store and scoured the aisles looking for the holy grail, sun chips. They didn’t have them and thankfully the children agreed to settle for Doritos. Apparently this particular store only carries full size bags and of course the tiny humans could not share a bag as they would risk contamination from each other. The meltdowns had begun right there in the chip aisle at the mere suggestion of sharing. I had no fight left so I bought them each a giant bag of chips and opened them right there in the store. I stuffed the kids in their carseats and all was finally silent except for the happiest toddler giggles and sound of chips being blissfully consumed in the back seat.
Wednesday, 22 November 2017
Another one bites the dust
We seem to be very hard on nannies. In the short time since we decided this would be a good solution for our child care conundrum we have gone through two. Our first nanny was quite lovely but not as flexible in her schedule as we would have liked. She left after getting married. We took a nanny hiatus for a while but that wasn't really a great solution either. I found myself the complete embodiment of a "Mombie" after working a few night shifts and trying to stay up with the kids the whole next day. After copious amounts of caffeine and a gruelling round of interviews we finally found our new nanny. We thought we loved her. We thought she was the answer to our childcare prayers and the vision of our nanny dreams. We were wrong. It became quickly and abruptly obvious that she lacked maturity, she was constantly telling us dramatic stories about her life and making excuses about leaving early. Suddenly she was asking for advance pay cheques and for us to loan her money. What had seemed at first to be the perfect woman was quickly turning into nightmare fuel. We went back and forth for a couple of days but finally she came to the decision that she would like to step back from her position with us. So here we are back into the Mombie, nanny search, hamster wheel. Good riddance to the last one and here is hoping the next one is a better match.
Thursday, 16 November 2017
En Garde!
Today I had the luxury of staying home with my babies. This is a rare occurrence for us, even when I do have a day off we usually have doctor's appointments, errands to run, elderly family members to take care of, a world to take over (you know usual stuff). Well today we decided to be on strike. It was so snowy and I didn't want to go through the torture of snowsuits and carseats.
I woke up at 730am to my husbands alarm blaring and smacked at him to turn it off before it could wake the kids. He somehow managed to turn it off without even interrupting his snore-fest. I laid in bed awake starring at the top bunk. Oh right I haven't even mentioned this, we are staying at my parents' house for a month while we wait for our new house to be ready. It's been as good as it can be when you end up moving home as a full grown adult with your own family. Nobody is thrilled about the situation (including Isaac he keeps asking to go to is own home), but we are all managing to keep the peace pretty well and survive each other. Honestly there has been some pretty nice perks like my dad does almost all the cooking and grocery shopping, plus my mom has helped come up with some creative solutions to the toddler tantrums. The downside is there isn't any good way to infringe on someone's space and we don't have our own things here as there isn't that much space so it means sleeping in the same room as Zoey on the bunk beds my parents got for the kids (when they are bigger).
Back to the story... so we continued our lovely morning ritual of blaring alarm, smack the husband, alarm turns off, hold my breath and pray the kids stay asleep for a little longer. Finally after the 53rd alarm of the morning his highness rolled out of bed and got ready for the day. To his credit he was incredibly quiet and managed to leave for work without waking the kids. By 930am the blissful quiet was rudely interrupted by the tiny hooligans demanding a cereal sacrifice. Several bowls of the sugary, colourful, Pixar fish brand cereal and a couple episodes of Paw Patrol later we were allowed to leave the kitchen for a more comfortable place, the playroom floor. I tried to sneak a cushion onto the floor so I could at least not have my white girl booty freeze off from the frost covered floor but that caused sheer panic for my beasts, "Mom don't take the chair pillow! The chair will get cold mom! Brrrr, it's a popsicle." I convinced the minions to move into the living room and just bring some toys out but it meant enduring several more episodes of Paw Patrol.
When my brain finally snapped after one episode too many of the mayor losing her purse chicken and all the incompetent adults depending on talking dogs to save them I decided to engage my children in a new game. I do not know what I was thinking, clearly I wasn't. For some reason I thought it would be a brilliant idea to teach them sword fighting. They were utterly delighted at this development. Not only was I actually giving them direct attention but they were suddenly allowed to hit each other with sticks! I must admit it was insanely fun and the two of them yelling "En garde!" as they jumped from cushion to cushion was hilarious. No one got hurt, and yes mom; I cleaned up the mess.
Friday, 3 November 2017
All the Questions
I am at a point where I am questioning my life. I feel like every decision is the wrong one, every choice is incorrect, every dream falls flat. I know it is a pity party again, sorry folks. I have been having a really hard time the last few months and I need to let it out. Not like I really hold much back anyway.
My kids...
My husband and I are still pretty young (as in under 30) and have two little kids, we want more. I always wanted kids, like since the time I was born I wanted my own baby. Anyway we got married pretty young, at 21. We were both in school and still trying to figure out life but we both knew we wanted a baby. We started on the journey of ntnp as it is known in the fertility world, to the rest of us; not trying not preventing. Pretty much it gave us an excuse to not care about birth control. After a few months I started thinking this getting pregnant thing was harder then it seemed. I went to Catholic school so I was under the impression that if a boy so much as held your hand you would end up pregnant. I also had several friends who had ended up with unplanned pregnancies. I did my favourite thing in the world and entered the downward spiral of Dr. Google.
A few hours later and I came away with all kinds of ailments and their subsequent cures. I immediately ran to the store for prenatal vitamins, essential oils, ovulation tests, and a laundry list of all kinds of other goodies the internet gods deemed necessary. I happened to read that falling pregnant could take up to a year of trying so I was happy to keep going.
The year mark raced by and not only had we not managed a positive pregnancy test, but I never did see a positive ovulation test. An appointment with a real doctor was in order. After many appointments, all kinds of tests, and a few embarrassing questionaires, we came away with the answer that we would likely never have a child without medical intervention. A few magical medical cocktails, a hormonal outburst, and some very emotional moments later we discovered the most amazing thing had happened... I was finally pregnant. We were so excited I started planning and shopping, I booked an ultrasound and then the worst happened. We discovered that we had only managed a blighted ovum, no baby. My heart shattered and so did Shane's, we were devastated. It wasn't long before we decided to continue our journey and try again.
Finally on July 20, 2014 I gave birth to the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. My perfect little boy had made it safely into the world. Isaac (he will laugh), William (he will protect), Donald (he will be a leader of men). He was named after some of the greatest men I ever knew and he lives up to this name every day.
The first year of Isaac's life was everything I had ever dreamed of. He was a very easy baby, he slept through the night immediately, he was always happy, he breastfed like a champ, and the baby weight come off pretty easily.
On the day of Isaac's first birthday I found out I was pregnant again. I had hoped another baby would come soon but was shocked it had happened that fast. We hadn't even spoken to a doctor about restarting fertility treatments, we simply hadn't used birth control. I was afraid of the reality of another baby so quickly but so excited and happy that this had happened on its own. I knew this was meant to be and we could do it. This pregnancy was harder. I had a toddler running around and I had debilitating morning sickness. I had been sick with Isaac the entire pregnancy (I threw up in OR during my c-section) but it was nothing compared to this time. I ended up in early labour but it was successfully stopped and shortly after that my amniotic fluid started leaking. My sweet girl came into the world early and with a very dramatic beginning.
On February 25, 2016 Zoey (life) Vera (truth) Rose (beauty of a rose) entered the world. At two minutes old she stopped breathing and required life saving resuscitation. She ended up with a hole in her lung and needed to have NICU care. I did not even have a chance to cuddle her or try and bond to her. She was in one hospital ward and I was in another. I couldn't even see her until the nurses from my postpartum team could ensure that I was stable, meaning several medications and a few litres of fluid. By the time I did see my baby it didn't even feel like she was mine. I tried desperately to bond with her but no matter how I forced it the bond didn't come.
Ive talked about my journey with post partum depression before so I won't blather on about it again. Basically once we were home we discovered Zoey had some other problems and the treatment made her a very irritable baby. It took a long time but our bond is strong now. We are unbreakable.
It wasn't long after Zoey was born before Isaac started having seizures and although the journey has been long we have some answers for him now. He has epilepsy and we seem to have found a medication that is helping (it only took three doctors, and more medications then I care to count). We are still experiencing some side effects of this medication resulting in even more medications being needed to counteract this but it beats the constant seizures. I often wonder if his epilepsy is somehow my fault, logically I know it isn't but my mama heart can't help but blame itself.
My home
There are so very many things that have contributed to our home situation that it is hard to remember them all. We moved out very young and long before we were ready due to circumstances beyond our control. Our first apartment was tiny, dark, and nothing more then a hole in the ground. Our upstairs neighbour was dying of cancer and the pain he had meant he never slept, he spent all hours of the day and night awake sobbing and crying out from the pain. That along with the drug dealers in the apartment across the hall and my grandparents drew the line. They told us we were not living there and helped us move to a better home. Our second place was good for a long time, we stayed there until the floods hit and our landlord went crazy. She refused to repair the flooded basement meaning black mold began to grow. We were locked in a legal battle with her, she started being all kinds of whacko, from coming into our house unannounced, to unplugging our freezer with the intent of spoiling our groceries. We fought with her and stayed until my grandfather got died. When he passed away it broke me.
My grandfather and I were really close. He had been so much more then a typical grandpa, he helped raise me, he taught me so much, he did everything for me. I loved him so very much and losing him is the most difficult thing I have ever gone through. It will be four year this March and I still cry for him everyday. He was the glue that held our family together and without him we have broken apart. There is no more big family gatherings, no more cousin Christmas's, no more family reunions with crazy french relatives we've never heard of, no more developing of pictures in the deep dark depths of grandma's basement, no more garage door beeper going to tell me he is home, no more big strong voice booming from the choir loft, no more gentle hands to oil the pews or wax the floor. The things he did, the moments we shared, it is all just a memory and I feel like I lose a little more everyday.
We moved again to a new home after grandpa passed away and it never was the same. I was so sad that he couldn't come see the new house and tell me all the things that needed fixed. I was sad that there would never be a place he claimed as his in that house. It was a good house though and both my babies were brought home there.
After being there for a while we had an opportunity to try rural living and although it didn't last long or end up helping the way we hoped there were good things about it. Now we are once again in the middle of a move to yet another rental. Hopefully soon all the moving will stop and maybe one day we will own a home so our kids can have some stability on that front.
Work
Thins is the big area I am struggling with right now. I love being a nurse! It is my passion. I have branched out and tried a new area of nursing and I am really struggling with it. I haven't had much chance to work since my orientation and the few shifts I have worked have been overwhelming. I really love the environment of my new job and the idea of the work I am doing but I am not sure it is a good fit right now. I feel spread really thin and with all the things going on at home I am admittedly having trouble keeping up with this new learning curve. I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to give it all up and just be home (I know I would never be satisfied with that). Part of me wants to go back to the drawing board and reinvent myself (but I don't think I want to be anything other then a nurse). Part of me wants to go back to my old unit and refocus my efforts there exclusively (I feel boxed out there and I know some of my coworkers are frustrated with my lack of hours there). Another part of my wants to stick with this new job and ride out the rough part. I have talked with my educator on the new unit and we agreed that maybe I could have some more training at least. I don't know. I am torn. The only thing I do know is that right now I am filled with angst. I dread every shift. I am afraid of going to work because I don't want to fail. I hate this part of my journey right now. I have to figure this out.
Sorry for the whiney rant, thanks for sticking with me if you did. As my mom would say, "It's time to pull up my big girl panties and get on with it."
My kids...
My husband and I are still pretty young (as in under 30) and have two little kids, we want more. I always wanted kids, like since the time I was born I wanted my own baby. Anyway we got married pretty young, at 21. We were both in school and still trying to figure out life but we both knew we wanted a baby. We started on the journey of ntnp as it is known in the fertility world, to the rest of us; not trying not preventing. Pretty much it gave us an excuse to not care about birth control. After a few months I started thinking this getting pregnant thing was harder then it seemed. I went to Catholic school so I was under the impression that if a boy so much as held your hand you would end up pregnant. I also had several friends who had ended up with unplanned pregnancies. I did my favourite thing in the world and entered the downward spiral of Dr. Google.
A few hours later and I came away with all kinds of ailments and their subsequent cures. I immediately ran to the store for prenatal vitamins, essential oils, ovulation tests, and a laundry list of all kinds of other goodies the internet gods deemed necessary. I happened to read that falling pregnant could take up to a year of trying so I was happy to keep going.
The year mark raced by and not only had we not managed a positive pregnancy test, but I never did see a positive ovulation test. An appointment with a real doctor was in order. After many appointments, all kinds of tests, and a few embarrassing questionaires, we came away with the answer that we would likely never have a child without medical intervention. A few magical medical cocktails, a hormonal outburst, and some very emotional moments later we discovered the most amazing thing had happened... I was finally pregnant. We were so excited I started planning and shopping, I booked an ultrasound and then the worst happened. We discovered that we had only managed a blighted ovum, no baby. My heart shattered and so did Shane's, we were devastated. It wasn't long before we decided to continue our journey and try again.
Finally on July 20, 2014 I gave birth to the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. My perfect little boy had made it safely into the world. Isaac (he will laugh), William (he will protect), Donald (he will be a leader of men). He was named after some of the greatest men I ever knew and he lives up to this name every day.
The first year of Isaac's life was everything I had ever dreamed of. He was a very easy baby, he slept through the night immediately, he was always happy, he breastfed like a champ, and the baby weight come off pretty easily.
On the day of Isaac's first birthday I found out I was pregnant again. I had hoped another baby would come soon but was shocked it had happened that fast. We hadn't even spoken to a doctor about restarting fertility treatments, we simply hadn't used birth control. I was afraid of the reality of another baby so quickly but so excited and happy that this had happened on its own. I knew this was meant to be and we could do it. This pregnancy was harder. I had a toddler running around and I had debilitating morning sickness. I had been sick with Isaac the entire pregnancy (I threw up in OR during my c-section) but it was nothing compared to this time. I ended up in early labour but it was successfully stopped and shortly after that my amniotic fluid started leaking. My sweet girl came into the world early and with a very dramatic beginning.
On February 25, 2016 Zoey (life) Vera (truth) Rose (beauty of a rose) entered the world. At two minutes old she stopped breathing and required life saving resuscitation. She ended up with a hole in her lung and needed to have NICU care. I did not even have a chance to cuddle her or try and bond to her. She was in one hospital ward and I was in another. I couldn't even see her until the nurses from my postpartum team could ensure that I was stable, meaning several medications and a few litres of fluid. By the time I did see my baby it didn't even feel like she was mine. I tried desperately to bond with her but no matter how I forced it the bond didn't come.
Ive talked about my journey with post partum depression before so I won't blather on about it again. Basically once we were home we discovered Zoey had some other problems and the treatment made her a very irritable baby. It took a long time but our bond is strong now. We are unbreakable.
It wasn't long after Zoey was born before Isaac started having seizures and although the journey has been long we have some answers for him now. He has epilepsy and we seem to have found a medication that is helping (it only took three doctors, and more medications then I care to count). We are still experiencing some side effects of this medication resulting in even more medications being needed to counteract this but it beats the constant seizures. I often wonder if his epilepsy is somehow my fault, logically I know it isn't but my mama heart can't help but blame itself.
My home
There are so very many things that have contributed to our home situation that it is hard to remember them all. We moved out very young and long before we were ready due to circumstances beyond our control. Our first apartment was tiny, dark, and nothing more then a hole in the ground. Our upstairs neighbour was dying of cancer and the pain he had meant he never slept, he spent all hours of the day and night awake sobbing and crying out from the pain. That along with the drug dealers in the apartment across the hall and my grandparents drew the line. They told us we were not living there and helped us move to a better home. Our second place was good for a long time, we stayed there until the floods hit and our landlord went crazy. She refused to repair the flooded basement meaning black mold began to grow. We were locked in a legal battle with her, she started being all kinds of whacko, from coming into our house unannounced, to unplugging our freezer with the intent of spoiling our groceries. We fought with her and stayed until my grandfather got died. When he passed away it broke me.
My grandfather and I were really close. He had been so much more then a typical grandpa, he helped raise me, he taught me so much, he did everything for me. I loved him so very much and losing him is the most difficult thing I have ever gone through. It will be four year this March and I still cry for him everyday. He was the glue that held our family together and without him we have broken apart. There is no more big family gatherings, no more cousin Christmas's, no more family reunions with crazy french relatives we've never heard of, no more developing of pictures in the deep dark depths of grandma's basement, no more garage door beeper going to tell me he is home, no more big strong voice booming from the choir loft, no more gentle hands to oil the pews or wax the floor. The things he did, the moments we shared, it is all just a memory and I feel like I lose a little more everyday.
We moved again to a new home after grandpa passed away and it never was the same. I was so sad that he couldn't come see the new house and tell me all the things that needed fixed. I was sad that there would never be a place he claimed as his in that house. It was a good house though and both my babies were brought home there.
After being there for a while we had an opportunity to try rural living and although it didn't last long or end up helping the way we hoped there were good things about it. Now we are once again in the middle of a move to yet another rental. Hopefully soon all the moving will stop and maybe one day we will own a home so our kids can have some stability on that front.
Work
Thins is the big area I am struggling with right now. I love being a nurse! It is my passion. I have branched out and tried a new area of nursing and I am really struggling with it. I haven't had much chance to work since my orientation and the few shifts I have worked have been overwhelming. I really love the environment of my new job and the idea of the work I am doing but I am not sure it is a good fit right now. I feel spread really thin and with all the things going on at home I am admittedly having trouble keeping up with this new learning curve. I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to give it all up and just be home (I know I would never be satisfied with that). Part of me wants to go back to the drawing board and reinvent myself (but I don't think I want to be anything other then a nurse). Part of me wants to go back to my old unit and refocus my efforts there exclusively (I feel boxed out there and I know some of my coworkers are frustrated with my lack of hours there). Another part of my wants to stick with this new job and ride out the rough part. I have talked with my educator on the new unit and we agreed that maybe I could have some more training at least. I don't know. I am torn. The only thing I do know is that right now I am filled with angst. I dread every shift. I am afraid of going to work because I don't want to fail. I hate this part of my journey right now. I have to figure this out.
Sorry for the whiney rant, thanks for sticking with me if you did. As my mom would say, "It's time to pull up my big girl panties and get on with it."
Tuesday, 31 October 2017
unicorn mom and mommy potion
It's the happy, happiest time of the year! That's right it's a holly jolly Halloween! Isaac has been waiting all year for it. He is only three, but he knows exactly what Halloween is all about and had eagerly been practicing his trick or treat skills for months. Everyday, several times a day, his tiny toddler heart breaks when he asks me if it is time for trick or treating and I tell him no. Finally the day has arrived and just like every other toddler... he decided he didn't want to go trick or treating or wear the costume he had worn everyday for a month.
After much coaxing and a few episodes of scooby doo we rediscovered the joy of all things spooky and decided to brave the mall for trick or treating. I battled Zoey into her unicorn costume, mended the Velcro on superman's cape and donned my very own super mom shirt. We drove to the mall, fought the parking war and managed the elevator button battle. We made the rounds and collected lots of candy for mommy's late night sugar binge (there is lots for the kids too, after all I really don't like peanut butter cups). After exhausting my candy slaves we stopped for some "dewicious bunch" at the food court where we discovered even more candy was being handed out. A final round of trick treating and we decided to stop at the indoor play area. This is where I found my mom soul mate. This woman was as majestic and as illusive as the unicorn my daughter was dressed as. She had mismatched socks, leggings with holes in the knee and hair that was in that typical five day dry shampoo binge messy bun. As I was watching this goddess manage the tiny minions clinging to legs, (she managed to get them to play by themselves) suddenly the announcement came that play time was over and everyone proceeded to file out the gate controlled by the play nazis. I gathered my beasts and was vaguely aware of my mom-spiration preparing to leave. I placed my self next to her at the sanitizer dispenser and tried to make small talk and that my friends is when it happened...
Tiny child: "I got alcohol on my hands!"
Unicorn mom: "Great dude, rub it in."
TC: I got alcohol on my hands, my mommy likes alcohol."
UM: Stop. That isn't appropriate."
TC: Alchy, alchy, alcohol!"
And it was in that moment that I knew I indeed am not a bad mom! There are others out there. At least my kid just calls it "mommy potion."
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
After much coaxing and a few episodes of scooby doo we rediscovered the joy of all things spooky and decided to brave the mall for trick or treating. I battled Zoey into her unicorn costume, mended the Velcro on superman's cape and donned my very own super mom shirt. We drove to the mall, fought the parking war and managed the elevator button battle. We made the rounds and collected lots of candy for mommy's late night sugar binge (there is lots for the kids too, after all I really don't like peanut butter cups). After exhausting my candy slaves we stopped for some "dewicious bunch" at the food court where we discovered even more candy was being handed out. A final round of trick treating and we decided to stop at the indoor play area. This is where I found my mom soul mate. This woman was as majestic and as illusive as the unicorn my daughter was dressed as. She had mismatched socks, leggings with holes in the knee and hair that was in that typical five day dry shampoo binge messy bun. As I was watching this goddess manage the tiny minions clinging to legs, (she managed to get them to play by themselves) suddenly the announcement came that play time was over and everyone proceeded to file out the gate controlled by the play nazis. I gathered my beasts and was vaguely aware of my mom-spiration preparing to leave. I placed my self next to her at the sanitizer dispenser and tried to make small talk and that my friends is when it happened...
Tiny child: "I got alcohol on my hands!"
Unicorn mom: "Great dude, rub it in."
TC: I got alcohol on my hands, my mommy likes alcohol."
UM: Stop. That isn't appropriate."
TC: Alchy, alchy, alcohol!"
And it was in that moment that I knew I indeed am not a bad mom! There are others out there. At least my kid just calls it "mommy potion."
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Saturday, 21 October 2017
The Potato Bum
We are getting ready to move and with this comes the challenge of packing the house. We have moved many times and each time has presented its own unique challenges, every time it's been a little harder. The first move we were young and moving into a tiny 500 sq ft apartment, we owned nothing. The first little while we literally spent with lawn chairs and a cardboard box as living room furniture. The next move was a main floor house, we were a month away from getting married and both in school, this left us little time to pack or clean. On our next move I was heavily pregnant and very hormonal, it was stressful and unpleasant. From there we moved to our current house with a toddler and a newborn. The toddler spent a few days crying and asking to go home, and the baby although less emotional had a sleep regression and nursing strike from the disruption of her routine. This time it's two toddlers and a dog. We didn't anticipate this move and had gotten pretty entrenched in this house. Now it's time to go through all the stuff, gather the toys that are sprawled every where, organize the chaos, and attempt to fit our lives into the back of a uhaul. Thank goodness we have lots of help and support with packing and the actual move.
We packed all the kids toys away except for two boxes. There is a lot of stuff in these boxes; a unicorn demon thing that actually talks and drink bottles, a paw patrol plane and five different versions of each pup, a couple of puzzles, a car or two, some dollies, and finally so very many Mr. Potato Heads along with all their various accessories.
My parents were over to help pack and we were making sure the toys didn't get tangled in with other things. I had gathered most of the toys but we were missing one bum for a Mr. Potato Head. I sent my mom to find it. She dissapered into the living room for a substantial amount of time. Finally she comes back into my room, where I was packing up some clothes.
Mom: "I found the bum, or maybe a tongue mouth thingy. I'm not sure."
Me: "How are you not sure? Does it look like a tongue or a bum."
Mom: "I don't know!"
Me: "Is it red or beige?"
Mom: "Red."
Me: "That is a tongue. It's a potato not a baboon."
We venture back to the living room together and look for all of 10 seconds before I find the missing back end. It was very logically placed in the Little People house bathroom. This is the obvious choice, where else would a bum belong?
Me: "Found it."
Mom: "Oh that is what you meant. I was looking for something else."
Me: ...
Mom: "You know, I thought there was some kind of bum attachment."
Me: "What kind of potatos do you play with?!"
I still can't figure out what the hell my mother thought she was looking for.
We packed all the kids toys away except for two boxes. There is a lot of stuff in these boxes; a unicorn demon thing that actually talks and drink bottles, a paw patrol plane and five different versions of each pup, a couple of puzzles, a car or two, some dollies, and finally so very many Mr. Potato Heads along with all their various accessories.
My parents were over to help pack and we were making sure the toys didn't get tangled in with other things. I had gathered most of the toys but we were missing one bum for a Mr. Potato Head. I sent my mom to find it. She dissapered into the living room for a substantial amount of time. Finally she comes back into my room, where I was packing up some clothes.
Mom: "I found the bum, or maybe a tongue mouth thingy. I'm not sure."
Me: "How are you not sure? Does it look like a tongue or a bum."
Mom: "I don't know!"
Me: "Is it red or beige?"
Mom: "Red."
Me: "That is a tongue. It's a potato not a baboon."
We venture back to the living room together and look for all of 10 seconds before I find the missing back end. It was very logically placed in the Little People house bathroom. This is the obvious choice, where else would a bum belong?
Me: "Found it."
Mom: "Oh that is what you meant. I was looking for something else."
Me: ...
Mom: "You know, I thought there was some kind of bum attachment."
Me: "What kind of potatos do you play with?!"
I still can't figure out what the hell my mother thought she was looking for.
Wednesday, 18 October 2017
Are you smarter then a toddler
Today we ventured out to my grandma's house. We hadn't been in a while and it was lovely visit. The kids were thrilled with the grilled cheese sandwiches and stoked to play with the ancient car collection. As per usual for us I tried to cram far to much into the day and stayed a little longer then I should have. I always seem to forget just how long it takes to put children in a car. As I was once again rushing away to our next destination Isaac spilled a few drops of juice on the sidewalk. Apparently terrified that he might drown in the minuscule puddle he was paralyzed with fear. He was also distressed at the terrible mess he had made (I guess the rest of the wreckage he leaves in his wake is ambience.) It took a few minutes of convincing him that some birds would come have a drink and clean up after him. This appeased the tiny dictator but made it him absolutely refuse to get in the car because he needed to see the birds with his own eyes. I'm not sure what it says about me that my three year old was calling my bullshit.
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