Time Enough For Counting /When The Dealing’s Done

Posted on 7/16/2010 by cheesefairy

Fresco is sleeping on the couch beside me. He is on a nap strike right now. He marches around his crib with a little sign in his hand that says “FAIR SLEEPING CONDISHONS (sic) FOR ALL” and he chants, “Hey hey! Ho ho! Solo napping has to go!”

Ironically? Or something? Trombone has napped three times this week, including today. Yeah, he hasn’t done that in months. Whatever, kids, I am done figuring you out.

(I wish I could stop trying to figure them out. Seriously, if I could just shut that part of my brain down and sit around with them gorging ourselves on Twinkies and playing “Stick Hits You Inna Head” for a day I think I would be much happier.)

Ever the flexible employer, I started out this nap strike / sleep regression (like, up at 4:30 am? Are you possessed by devils, Fresco?) by being a hardass. You sleep in your crib. It is what you do. (You know I’m mad when I stop using contractions) I will help you do the thing I want you to do. WHY ARE YOU NOT YOU DOING THE THING? I AM HELPING. This, predictably, has resulted in me getting pissed off every day at around 2:30 PM because guess what, he’s not really rational. At all. 2 year olds are actually fairly irrational by adult standards.

(Local Mother ‘Gets It’ for Five Seconds, Then ‘Forgets It’ Again.)

Today, five minutes into his daily protest (now with extra spitting!) I took a moment to have a talk with myself. I used my alter ego, Tequila Popotch* because it’s easier to have someone else ask the questions sometimes. Here’s what she said:

“Dude. With a week to go before you leave for a camping/driving/moteling/hopefully-not-tornadoing vacation, what the hell do you care if he sleeps in the crib? He isn’t going to see that crib for 3 weeks. By the time you come back he will probably only want to sleep in a tent with bears sniffing at his neck and marshmallow coating his fingers. He will be unable to relax unless your sweaty face is inches from his and Trombone’s stinky feet are in his ears.”

I nodded. She made a good, though over-colourful point. She went on.

“Why expend the energy required to ignore the shrieking and throwing of blunt objects out of the crib – for that matter, why keep putting blunt objects in the crib when you know he will throw them out, but I digress – while hoping it will end when you know full well it will not end? And then expending more energy being disappointed when you can’t do the things you wanted to do even though you knew full well you wouldn’t get a chance to do them? Are you stupid or just stubborn?”

Stubborn? I said hopefully.

“Well, stop it,” she said. “Life is too short to be stubborn. Consider The Gambler.”

I did.

“Know when to hold ’em. Know when to fold ’em. In a month, will this matter? No it will not.”

No. It will not.

“Right now, what do you need?”

Silence. Time.

“Can you get that when he’s screaming his head off?”

No.

“Can you get that when he’s sleeping on the couch?”

Yes.

“So.”

Really. She is the wisest popotch of them all.

* A popotch is kind of a witch. It lives in your basement, or attic, or anywhere you don’t want your kid going. I have a whole army of them in my bedroom, for example, and six or seven live in our storage room, watching over the beer.

(My alter ego is Tequila Popotch not because I like tequila but because Gin Popotch doesn’t sound as good.)

(Although Vodka Popotch works OK.)

Posted in | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

The Loveliest of All

Posted on 7/14/2010 by cheesefairy

Don’t tell the children but I am involved in stealth preparations for our upcoming camping/driving trip. I have decided to prepare one paper bag full of trinkets for each morning we are on the road. Trinkets include: bandaids. Fish crackers. Action figures. Small books. Pencils, paper. I figure the novelty of these trinket bags will last at least the first 30 minutes of each day’s driving after which Fresco will probably be sleeping because he falls asleep as soon as he smells that fresh car interior these days (not sleeping more than 7 hours a night will do that to you) and Trombone will commence doing whatever he’s doing at that point – shooting trees out the window with his imaginary tree gun? Looking for pirates? Hard to say.

I am buying all my trinkets (except the fish crackers) from Value Village. Value Village will sell you a plastic baggie full of assorted toys – Happy Meal crap, dollar store baby toys, things crawling in lead paint and toxic plastic that’s been through the mircrowave even though the label says no! don’t put it through the microwave! – for $1.99.

I am not buying the evil things, though, don’t worry. I am selective. I did this before our trip to Penticton, too, and it worked well; twice as well because I bought all the stuff with Fresco while Trombone was in preschool but because Fresco is 2 years old he didn’t remember any of the toys. I also got Saint Aardvark a Battlefield Earth figurine for father’s day and I should disclose that it was actually an exorbitant $3.99 but you know what, he’s a hell of a dad. Totally worth it.

Today my children were taken away from me for the day by my parents, whom I love so very, very much, and I went to Value Village alone to get trinkets. I got some Playmobil dudes with horses, some yo-yos, some Spiderman lunchboxes, a metric buttload of assorted stickers, tiny board books about tractors, all manner of whoop dee doo! for the under-five set. I also found a full set of plastic dishes and cutlery for camping. Four plates, four bowls, four mugs, four each of forks and spoons and knives. $1.99 and AND AND!! inside one of the mugs, a small bear figurine pouring himself a glass of wine.

That was all I needed from Value Village today – really, isn’t that enough? – but as I walked to the checkout I passed the framed pictures section and overheard the following conversation between a middle-aged man and his middle-aged female companion.

Man: But the thing is, you can’t just buy the frame. You have to take the whole thing.
Woman: …
Man: See, the frames, I like. But I don’t want the picture inside. I shouldn’t have to pay for those.
Woman: Yeah, I see what you mean. But you could just take the pictures out, right?
Man, disgruntledly: I GUESS so.
Woman: Like, if you buy a photo frame at the store, there’s a picture inside, right?
Man: Yeah…

…I was about to go peer into that man’s face and say, “What are you LIKE?” but I got distracted by a glittery picture in a gold frame (the frame’s gold was peeling off, sort of sunburn-y) of a unicorn in the moonlight.

So I picked up the unicorn in the moonlight, semi-etched in glittery silver on black, framed by peeling gold, and I said, out loud, “Oh, it’s PERFECT!” and the people glanced at me and then scurried away.

Like everything else I was buying, it cost only $1.99, so I brought it home. You’re safe with me, little unicorn. I BELIEVE.

(it’s really hard to photograph a glittery unicorn in a glass frame and really capture the magic. You’ll just have to come over and see it sometime.)

Posted in | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Five Ways an Overtired 2 year old is The Bad Drunk From That One Party

Posted on 7/13/2010 by cheesefairy

1. Runs around the room crashing into furniture.
2. Stops periodically to crawl on your lap and cover your face with loud, exaggerated kisses.
3. Every few minutes, flops down on the floor and says, “I love you, Seamus!” to the cat.
4. When the cat does not return the affection, says, “You should go away. You are a bad cat.”
5. Rubs cream cheese into his hair and, when discouraged from this practice, roars like a wounded lion and then flops to the floor and stares at the ceiling for five minutes.

* Bonus: stops what he’s doing when How Soon is Now? by The Smiths comes on the radio. Shouts, “I love this song!” Continues running around the room crashing into furniture.

Good thing we have 17 years to train before he gets served in a bar.
(Without fake ID.)
(Assuming he can get to age 19 without sleeping.)
(Also assuming I can get to age 53 without sleeping.)

Posted in | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Wanted: Four Year Olds

Posted on 7/12/2010 by cheesefairy

I need some kids. Some four year old kids. Five year olds are OK too. I need one for every day of the week so Trombone has someone to play with.

Our best neighbour boy went away for the whole summer. The other best neighbour boy is in daycare all day. The third neighbour boy (yes, they are all boys around here) is
well, he’s
one of those kids who provides you with lots
of
– um –
opportunities?
to practice your
deep breathing?

(edited to add: You might have seen more snark here, earlier. I took out all the snark because I wouldn’t say it to his mother’s face.)

It’s not his fault. I know that. I just kind of want him to move away.

So it has become obvious that I need more children. NOT OF MY OWN! God, no. Around. For the pretending and the playing and the stupid jokes that make no sense to me and – Trombone, I can’t even fake a laugh. I’m sorry. It’s not funny. If I humour you, you’ll just think it IS funny and then someday you’ll end up on a sit-com and I will stab myself with a Bic pen.

I take my responsibility to foster good humour very seriously.

Fresco doesn’t cut it. He is 2. He is a Very Verbal Two Year Old but he doesn’t get the concepts behind “I’m X character and you are Y.” Also he likes to tease his brother. Also he is pretty bad at taking turns.

“OK now YOU be Woody and I’ll be Buzz.”
“Piu piu piu! LASERS!”
“NO! You’re WOODY! You don’t HAVE lasers!”
“I like lasers!”
“You’re WOODY!”
“No, I’m WOODY!”
“That’s what I said!”

I feel bad for Trombone. He was a cautious kid for so long and has just bloomed in the past few months. He became all about friends, right when preschool ended for the summer and so he is very frustrated with his limitations right now; it’s kind of like if you suddenly sprouted wings and spent all day trying to leap off things to try out your cool wings and your mom just kept saying ..but no flying. No. Flying. Uh uh. Sorry. We haven’t got the space for it.

What the hell do I do with THESE, THEN, MOTHER?

(Is what it sounds like.)

Plus there is all this anger. Four year old anger. “You are not the boss of me, I just figured it out,” anger. “Nice try, MOTHER,” anger. He yells at everything and wants to smash it. He goes into the kitchen and says he is going to war. And then he comes back and says he won.

(He doesn’t actually call me MOTHER but it is in the tone.)

What do you do with them? Give them clay to smash? A room to yell in? Send them to four year old camp? Judo? Any of you know how long this phase is going to last?

(Note: if it lasts till 19, please save your breath. KThx.)

Posted in | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments

Road Trip One: Complete

Posted on 7/9/2010 by cheesefairy

When your child has never been outside the city limits, you don’t need toys or amusements for the first 30 minutes of a road trip. He will just look out the window at the trees. And the other cars on the highway. And the mountains. And then you will talk about mountains for a while and how they look pointy at the top in pictures but really they’re not, you can stand on them. Drive vehicles up them, even. Really. I am NOT LYING, kid.

Fresco counted the trees as we went. Apparently it is as good as counting sheep.

I don’t know if we’ll get away with this again on our next trip in just under three weeks time (eeek alors!) as we will be on the same highway and the trees will be, well, the same, but maybe. Just maybe.

Less Than Awesome Parts of Our Vacation

– The Sleep.

I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in several nights leading up to the trip so I was already exhausted to the point of pain and nausea. The kids were out of their element and routine and heads. Out of their heads. We had one room for me and them; two queen beds and a playpen for Fresco that he has slept in before but which he claimed was frosted with tarantula tentacles. So: Trombone slept in one big bed and Fresco and I in the other.

We are not a co-sleeping family. I have always maintained that the kids sleep better in their own beds and they do. But this was a motel. Not their own beds. I get why they were so freaked out but I was so tired I wanted to put them in a closet. Fresco draped over my neck like a giant, limp cat. Trombone moaning and groaning in his sleep. At least now I know what it will be like when they share a room. Hopefully I will still have my own.

The next day it was better and the next two nights Fresco slept in the playpen. But he still woke up at 5:45, stood up like a rocket in a launcher and shouted “It’s WAKE UP TIME!” each morning. Like a rooster.

And now that we are home, he keeps saying he wants to sleep with me and is fighting his naps like a .. fighting rooster. He’ll probably be back on schedule by the time we’re ready to fuck it up again in just under 3 weeks time (eeek alors!)

– Getting Lost In Naramata

Naramata is the size of my kitchen. It is a hamlet. We were going to a family barbeque. It was supposed to be held at a family member’s house but their house had no water and also it had been raining all day so the family members moved it to the Friendship Centre. Only they called the Friendship Centre the “Old Pensioner’s Hall” and gave us driving directions that involved no street addresses. We drove right past it and then asked at three motels, the third of which directed us to the Community Centre, the employee of which directed us back across the tiniest little bridge to the Friendship Centre, which we had driven past 20 minutes earlier. It sounds like a lot of driving but imagine all of this taking place in a Lego Universe and you have the right scale.

– Dinner at Denny’s.

OK, the waitress had 14 people to serve. One of the guests has early altzheimer’s and kept reaching for every plate that went by. Five of the guests have hearing aids. Two of the guests are under 5 years old. But should it take 90 minutes to get your food at Denny’s? Especially if you’re TWO YEARS OLD and all you ordered was a plate of reheated chicken nuggets and you ordered it with the drinks?

No. No it should not. And if you are the caretaker of that overtired, starving two year old, you will hold a grudge against Denny’s for the rest of your bitter days. I had to sacrifice a lot of my ice cubes and sugar packets while we waited for those fucking nuggets.

– Being too Tired to Stay Up and Walk on the Beach

We were right across the street from the beach. We had a big patio overlooking the beach. We sat on it and watched people walk on the beach and then dragged our sorry asses to bed because 5:45 AM comes earllllly.

– Being Allergic to Something on the Patio

Every time I went on the patio to watch the people walking on the beach, I stopped being able to breathe through my nose. Antihistamine took care of it.

Awesome Things About our Vacation

– I got to drive for 2 hours alone because the kids wanted to ride in their grandparents’ car.

– The beach in the rain is still the beach.

– Our motel suite – an apologetic upgrade after the motel lost our reservation – was bigger than Naramata.

– Hell, the TV was bigger than Naramata.

– On our last day there, the sun shone brightly and we went swimming and the lake was cold and wonderful and then we bought ice cream from the giant peach on the beach and ate it on our patio and watched people walk by.

– My aunt and uncle have been married for 50 years and a lot of people came to see them renew their vows.

– The church where they did this had a very well stocked nursery for the children to play in.

– My kids were the youngest and all the older kids loved them and taught them things like peace signs and secret handshakes.

– Cake.

– The portable DVD player that my neighbour lent me just in time for our trip. On the way there, I used it to play CDs during my 2 hours of solitude through the mountains. On the way back, I put on a DVD for Trombone and he fell asleep.

– Cherries.

– Family. Three aunts, three uncles, my parents, four cousins, a bunch of sub-cousins, some old extended relative who recognized me from the last time she saw me, which was when I was 2.

– Coming home.

Obviously Not Watching Ghostbusters

Posted in | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments