This morning, darling daughter was so darn crabby that I had to up nap time an hour earlier. I simply had no choice. It was either watch her continually cry for no apparent reason or save my sanity and put her in her crib for a nap. My sanity won. Unfortunately, when you mess with the timing of nap time, you are playing with fire. In the end, she only slept an hour.
An hour into her nap time while I was trying to catch up on some emails downstairs, I could her stirring. No crying. Just her chirping happily to her stuffies in her room. I was silently hoping that she'd go back to sleep. And at one point I thought she did. But you quickly learn in toddlerland when things are completely silent, trouble is brewing.
Unfortunately for me, darling daughter wasn't sleeping. In fact, she was stark naked, standing in her crib, holding up her wet diaper. If you are an avid reader of this blog, you'll know that I've blogged about past incidents involving a naked toddler and an open up diaper. Including the summer poop incident that prompted a frantic call to Telehealth. Somehow, she wiggled out of her snug sleeper during nap time. Fortunately for me, there was no poop. So now sleepers have been put on the iffy sleeping apparel list. But again, I was thankful that I had no poop to clean up. Some days you just have to thank the small blessings on the road to surviving toddlerhood.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
A solution for mess clean up. But the question is: do they actual exist?
A couple of weeks ago on Coronation Street, Norris and Mary gave Emily a pair of floor polishing flip flops as a gift. Emily, a widow who could be in her late 60s or early 70s, wasn’t overly impressed with the gift. And who would blame her? She could break a hip if she attempted to polish her floors with those flip flops. She could be going around the coffee table, take a wrong turn near the buffet, slip and find herself right on her backside.
But for a mom like me, those are the perfect gift. Yes, they are ugly as sin and they’d be hard walk on the beach with, but they’d be perfect to clean up sippy cup messes and general spills. I’m tired of sippy cups leaking. I’m tired of feeling like I need to mop the floor once a day because darling daughter has dumped her strawberries onto the floor for the umpteenth time. I’m tired of mopping said messes up with my socks because I’m too lazy to get a cloth out, get on my hands and knees and clean it up myself.
The messes never end. If it isn’t peas being smashed into the rug or milk pooling underneath darling daughter’s booster seat, I’m dropping something on the kitchen floor. And there is only so many miracles the Dyson can perform. I know it is a little early to ask, but Santa, can I have a pair of floor polishing flip flops for Christmas? Because it would make my life a lot easier. And take some stress off my joints.
But for a mom like me, those are the perfect gift. Yes, they are ugly as sin and they’d be hard walk on the beach with, but they’d be perfect to clean up sippy cup messes and general spills. I’m tired of sippy cups leaking. I’m tired of feeling like I need to mop the floor once a day because darling daughter has dumped her strawberries onto the floor for the umpteenth time. I’m tired of mopping said messes up with my socks because I’m too lazy to get a cloth out, get on my hands and knees and clean it up myself.
The messes never end. If it isn’t peas being smashed into the rug or milk pooling underneath darling daughter’s booster seat, I’m dropping something on the kitchen floor. And there is only so many miracles the Dyson can perform. I know it is a little early to ask, but Santa, can I have a pair of floor polishing flip flops for Christmas? Because it would make my life a lot easier. And take some stress off my joints.
Monday, February 22, 2010
My toddler is channelling her inner teenager
Well, we've hit toddlerhood with a bang.
Lately, darling daughter has been asserting her personality. She has no qualms telling us her dislikes. She dislikes the word no. The word no will usually provoke a tantrum of some sort. Tears will be produced, the hands will immediately fly to the face, covering the eyes and sometimes she'll just fall to the floor in despair. Dear husband doesn't believe me that this is typical toddler behaviour. He is convinced that she, and I quote, "learned it from some other kid."
Another dislike of darling daughter's is bedtime. In her books, a 7:30 p.m. bedtime is much too early. According to her, bedtime should be at 8:30 p.m. A couple of times last week she got her own way by crying, resulting in dear husband giving into her demands. But eventually it got too much for dear husband and I (as bad cop) had to put my foot down before it got out of control.
While she doesn't like the word no, she says it a lot to us. No, no, no. Nooooooooooo. And my favourite, NO! I hear a lot of the word no during the day.
Sometimes I feel like I can't even eat in front of darling daughter. Despite the fact I feed her a well balance lunch, she usually come over to me while I'm trying to scarf down a sandwich, demanding food. Today I finally got smart and grabbed her a piece of bread to give her while trying to eat.
I know the teenage years seems like a million years away, but I honestly think she is channelling her inner teenager these days with the attitude, demands as well as her propensity to test boundaries and her increased appetite. Perhaps the toddler years are a dry run for what is to come during the teenage years. At least now I can wrangle a 18 month old. I don't think I can do that with a 15 year old.
Lately, darling daughter has been asserting her personality. She has no qualms telling us her dislikes. She dislikes the word no. The word no will usually provoke a tantrum of some sort. Tears will be produced, the hands will immediately fly to the face, covering the eyes and sometimes she'll just fall to the floor in despair. Dear husband doesn't believe me that this is typical toddler behaviour. He is convinced that she, and I quote, "learned it from some other kid."
Another dislike of darling daughter's is bedtime. In her books, a 7:30 p.m. bedtime is much too early. According to her, bedtime should be at 8:30 p.m. A couple of times last week she got her own way by crying, resulting in dear husband giving into her demands. But eventually it got too much for dear husband and I (as bad cop) had to put my foot down before it got out of control.
While she doesn't like the word no, she says it a lot to us. No, no, no. Nooooooooooo. And my favourite, NO! I hear a lot of the word no during the day.
Sometimes I feel like I can't even eat in front of darling daughter. Despite the fact I feed her a well balance lunch, she usually come over to me while I'm trying to scarf down a sandwich, demanding food. Today I finally got smart and grabbed her a piece of bread to give her while trying to eat.
I know the teenage years seems like a million years away, but I honestly think she is channelling her inner teenager these days with the attitude, demands as well as her propensity to test boundaries and her increased appetite. Perhaps the toddler years are a dry run for what is to come during the teenage years. At least now I can wrangle a 18 month old. I don't think I can do that with a 15 year old.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Dear Toyota
Sorry Toyota. I’m handing in my fan club membership and calling it a day.
I’ve been a Toyota owner for the last 11 years. I’ve owned three cars. My first car was a 1999 Corolla. Before trading it into the dealership, I wracked 217,000 kilometres on the odometer and received $3,400 from the dealership as trade-in value. Plus, the car didn’t even have air conditioning. The only thing I had to fix on that car was the brakes and that was at the 120,000 kilometre point. (I did a lot of highway driving with that car and I didn’t “ride the brake” as my father calls it. When I was a teenager learning to drive, my father drilled it into me that you whatever you do, don’t “ride the brake.”
My second Toyota was a 2005 Echo Hatchback. I absolutely loved that car. Loved it! Soon after purchasing that car, I wrote a thank you letter to the dealership, gushing how much I loved my car and my Toyota experience. They even posted my letter on the bulletin board in the service department waiting room for everyone to read. It was a great little commuter car. The only drawback was due to its small size it didn’t fare well on windy days, especially on the highway. It’s nickname was “the sissy car.“ It was christened the sissy car by my friend’s uncle who declared, “that is one sissy car,” when he spotted parked in her driveway. Yes, it was a sissy car. Yes, a lot of people snickered at it and poked fun at its size. But it got me where I had to go and I got good gas mileage.
Before darling daughter arrived, dear husband and I decided to downsize to one vehicle. My little hatchback seemed to small to be a main family car and his Saturn needed replacing. I sold my car and he traded in his vehicle and we bought a 2009 Matrix.
At that point, I was so in love with Toyota. I was a proud Toyota owner. I had completely bought into the Toyota’s reputation of quality and reliability. And why would I not? I had no problem with the past two Toyota’s I owned. There was no question in my mind we’d buy a Toyota. We visited three Toyota dealerships before we cut a deal. Over the years I’d recommend Toyota to my family and friends. “You won’t regret your decision,” I’d tell them.
Recently, we have experienced problems with our Matrix. We had to take the car into the dealership to get the brakes fixed. No big deal. Then in late December, the ABS brake sensor started acting up. I took the car to the dealership and they diagnosed the problem as a speed senor failure. A new senor was needed, they told me and I was assured my car was safe to drive. It is now February 19. The senor still hasn’t replaced. We were first told that it would come in at the end of January. But apparently since other Toyota owners are having senor problems the part is on back order.
Then the massive recall to fix sticky accelerator pedals was announced. I still had confidence, but as I started to think more about our issues with our Matrix, my faith started to slowly erode. And yesterday was the last straw. I had problems braking. Luckily we were almost home. So we had to make another call to the dealership and once again the car went back into the garage for an inspection. According to the dealership, my brakes are fine. But really, how can I have confidence in a product that seems to be having problem after problem?
Sorry Toyota, you can run all the commercials you want on television and radio to secure customer loyalty, but you can’t restore my confidence or faith in your product. I've got no more brand loyalty for you. My grandfather was a Buick man and for the longest time my father only drove Ford trucks. But I have learned that money talks. And the next time this repeat customer has to purchase a new car, she‘ll be driving past a Toyota dealership and looking elsewhere.
I’ve been a Toyota owner for the last 11 years. I’ve owned three cars. My first car was a 1999 Corolla. Before trading it into the dealership, I wracked 217,000 kilometres on the odometer and received $3,400 from the dealership as trade-in value. Plus, the car didn’t even have air conditioning. The only thing I had to fix on that car was the brakes and that was at the 120,000 kilometre point. (I did a lot of highway driving with that car and I didn’t “ride the brake” as my father calls it. When I was a teenager learning to drive, my father drilled it into me that you whatever you do, don’t “ride the brake.”
My second Toyota was a 2005 Echo Hatchback. I absolutely loved that car. Loved it! Soon after purchasing that car, I wrote a thank you letter to the dealership, gushing how much I loved my car and my Toyota experience. They even posted my letter on the bulletin board in the service department waiting room for everyone to read. It was a great little commuter car. The only drawback was due to its small size it didn’t fare well on windy days, especially on the highway. It’s nickname was “the sissy car.“ It was christened the sissy car by my friend’s uncle who declared, “that is one sissy car,” when he spotted parked in her driveway. Yes, it was a sissy car. Yes, a lot of people snickered at it and poked fun at its size. But it got me where I had to go and I got good gas mileage.
Before darling daughter arrived, dear husband and I decided to downsize to one vehicle. My little hatchback seemed to small to be a main family car and his Saturn needed replacing. I sold my car and he traded in his vehicle and we bought a 2009 Matrix.
At that point, I was so in love with Toyota. I was a proud Toyota owner. I had completely bought into the Toyota’s reputation of quality and reliability. And why would I not? I had no problem with the past two Toyota’s I owned. There was no question in my mind we’d buy a Toyota. We visited three Toyota dealerships before we cut a deal. Over the years I’d recommend Toyota to my family and friends. “You won’t regret your decision,” I’d tell them.
Recently, we have experienced problems with our Matrix. We had to take the car into the dealership to get the brakes fixed. No big deal. Then in late December, the ABS brake sensor started acting up. I took the car to the dealership and they diagnosed the problem as a speed senor failure. A new senor was needed, they told me and I was assured my car was safe to drive. It is now February 19. The senor still hasn’t replaced. We were first told that it would come in at the end of January. But apparently since other Toyota owners are having senor problems the part is on back order.
Then the massive recall to fix sticky accelerator pedals was announced. I still had confidence, but as I started to think more about our issues with our Matrix, my faith started to slowly erode. And yesterday was the last straw. I had problems braking. Luckily we were almost home. So we had to make another call to the dealership and once again the car went back into the garage for an inspection. According to the dealership, my brakes are fine. But really, how can I have confidence in a product that seems to be having problem after problem?
Sorry Toyota, you can run all the commercials you want on television and radio to secure customer loyalty, but you can’t restore my confidence or faith in your product. I've got no more brand loyalty for you. My grandfather was a Buick man and for the longest time my father only drove Ford trucks. But I have learned that money talks. And the next time this repeat customer has to purchase a new car, she‘ll be driving past a Toyota dealership and looking elsewhere.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
No Diet Coke? Let's see how long I can go without
I've drank the rest of the Diet Coke left in the house and I'm ready for Lent to start. Bring it on, I say.
Now, I realize that Lent has already started. I'm just a couple of hours late in giving up the blessed fizzy goodness known as Diet Coke. I was going to pour the rest of my Diet Coke collection down the drain this morning. Despite the fact the remaining Diet Coke left in the bottle was flat, it was almost sacrilegious to pour it down the drain. So I simply poured it in a glass and drank it. Waste not, want not, I say!
I know the next 40 days are going to be difficult. But I can do it. I recently went an entire month without drinking Diet Coke, but I fell off the wagon about two weeks ago and I have been enjoying a Diet Coke binge ever since.
But all good things have to come to an end. And I think my body will thank me for it. A strict beverage diet of water is good, but it does lacks the fizzy and bubbly goodness of Diet Coke. Oh well, my glass is now empty, so excuse me while I go fill it with some good ol' tap water.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Rocking your world, toddler style
Oh George, your innocent comment in the Globe and Mail on Monday made me laugh out loud.
Former Ontario Health Minister George Smitherman and his partner, Christopher Peloso, are set to welcome their 14-month-old son later this month. The couple’s adoption has been approved and George told the Globe’s Jane Taber that he is “intensely thrilled” about becoming a dad.
When warned that a toddler will dramatically change their lifestyle, George reportedly had this to say: “Try being Health Minister for five years.”
Oh George, when I read that comment out to dear husband, he too laughed out loud. We both thought the same thing, “Ah, new parents. So innocent, so naive.”
I have no idea what being a health minister is like. I’m sure it is intense, difficult, challenging, frustrating, but rewarding work. But I know what it is like to be a parent of a toddler. It too is intense, difficult, challenging, frustrating, but rewarding work. Being a parent is the hardest job you’ll ever have. So be prepared to have your world rocked (but in a good way). Toddlers keep you on your toes. You’ll be amazed at what they are able to do. Your furniture will become a jungle gym. Your living room will instantly become a playroom. You’ll try to fight it at first, but eventually you’ll give in. If you have a coffee table you might as well get rid of it now. I can’t remember what our coffee table looks like. Oh, and watch your language. Like the saying goes, little pitchers have big ears. (And just a word of advice, the no stage seems to last a long time. Just roll with it). And try to keep strong during negotiations. Toddlers are hard and tough little negotiators. They have an “all but nothing” attitude. They will try to wear you down, but keep strong. In times like these, I rely on the strength of other parents who I know in the midst their own hard negotiations.
You’ll soon find yourself wondering if all you do all day is wash sippy cups and pick up food off and under the high chair. And you’ll wonder how much laundry can one little person create in one day. It truly is amazing. And then there is the exhaustion factor. While you are dragging your butt by 5 p.m., they are still on the go. It almost makes a person want curl up and cry.
But like I said earlier in this post, being a parent is rewarding word, especially when they say your name, smile at you, reach up to you for you to pick them up and cuddle on you when your resting your exhausted body on the couch. Those are precious, heart warming moments that you will cherish forever. It makes the laundry washing, sippy cup washing, and food cleaning worthwhile.
So congratulations, George and Christopher. Welcome to parenthoood! Enjoy the wild ride. And George, don’t be surprised if you find the job as parent harder than being a health minister. Naivete happens to the best of us.
Former Ontario Health Minister George Smitherman and his partner, Christopher Peloso, are set to welcome their 14-month-old son later this month. The couple’s adoption has been approved and George told the Globe’s Jane Taber that he is “intensely thrilled” about becoming a dad.
When warned that a toddler will dramatically change their lifestyle, George reportedly had this to say: “Try being Health Minister for five years.”
Oh George, when I read that comment out to dear husband, he too laughed out loud. We both thought the same thing, “Ah, new parents. So innocent, so naive.”
I have no idea what being a health minister is like. I’m sure it is intense, difficult, challenging, frustrating, but rewarding work. But I know what it is like to be a parent of a toddler. It too is intense, difficult, challenging, frustrating, but rewarding work. Being a parent is the hardest job you’ll ever have. So be prepared to have your world rocked (but in a good way). Toddlers keep you on your toes. You’ll be amazed at what they are able to do. Your furniture will become a jungle gym. Your living room will instantly become a playroom. You’ll try to fight it at first, but eventually you’ll give in. If you have a coffee table you might as well get rid of it now. I can’t remember what our coffee table looks like. Oh, and watch your language. Like the saying goes, little pitchers have big ears. (And just a word of advice, the no stage seems to last a long time. Just roll with it). And try to keep strong during negotiations. Toddlers are hard and tough little negotiators. They have an “all but nothing” attitude. They will try to wear you down, but keep strong. In times like these, I rely on the strength of other parents who I know in the midst their own hard negotiations.
You’ll soon find yourself wondering if all you do all day is wash sippy cups and pick up food off and under the high chair. And you’ll wonder how much laundry can one little person create in one day. It truly is amazing. And then there is the exhaustion factor. While you are dragging your butt by 5 p.m., they are still on the go. It almost makes a person want curl up and cry.
But like I said earlier in this post, being a parent is rewarding word, especially when they say your name, smile at you, reach up to you for you to pick them up and cuddle on you when your resting your exhausted body on the couch. Those are precious, heart warming moments that you will cherish forever. It makes the laundry washing, sippy cup washing, and food cleaning worthwhile.
So congratulations, George and Christopher. Welcome to parenthoood! Enjoy the wild ride. And George, don’t be surprised if you find the job as parent harder than being a health minister. Naivete happens to the best of us.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Happy non-family day!
Today is Family Day in Ontario. Family Day is a relatively new holiday. Stores are closed, financial markets are closed, and banks are closed, but dear husband is at work. With one-third of the family at work today, Family Day is any other day in our household. The radio is on. The television is blaring because darling daughter refuses to leave the off button alone and I'm still in my pajamas. Let the celebrations begin!
I can take some comfort knowing we aren't alone. Living in a government town like Ottawa, a significant portion of the population works for the federal government. And since Family Day is a provincial holiday, federal employees don't get the day off. (In my head, I can hear some cynics yell in the background, "Please, they work for the federal government! Don't whine!") But for families that have family members working on a holiday named Family Day, it makes for a strange day. Do you know of any other holiday where you get mail delivery?
Since I'm so used to dear husband working on Family Day, I forgot the holiday even existed until I noticed a posting at the local grocery store last week, stating the store would be closed on February 15 for Family Day. Family Day? I thought. Oh yeah, Family Day. That is the holiday where my husband works. Yesterday, I went to Chapters to buy some Starbucks gift certificates. Obviously, Starbucks was busy, but the line up to buy books at Chapters was crazy. It snaked to the front doors. Perhaps many people were buying books to keep themselves occupied on Family Day while one of their loved ones were at work.
I'm not too sure how darling daughter should celebrate Family Day. We could go skating on the Rideau Canal, but I don't think I could do that without dear husband's help. We could go to a museum, but I'm sure it will be busy, since after all it is Family Day. I'd love take a walk in a park, but it is February and Andrew Haydon Park is closed for the winter. Too bad Dalton McGuinty didn't schedule Family Day in a month without snow. It would have made the holiday a little bit more enjoyable for those who have love ones working. We will likely be doing what we do every day, play and watch some television.
So for those who are in the same position as me, I raise my glass of Diet Coke to you and salute you a happy non-family day! Enjoy, my friends.
I can take some comfort knowing we aren't alone. Living in a government town like Ottawa, a significant portion of the population works for the federal government. And since Family Day is a provincial holiday, federal employees don't get the day off. (In my head, I can hear some cynics yell in the background, "Please, they work for the federal government! Don't whine!") But for families that have family members working on a holiday named Family Day, it makes for a strange day. Do you know of any other holiday where you get mail delivery?
Since I'm so used to dear husband working on Family Day, I forgot the holiday even existed until I noticed a posting at the local grocery store last week, stating the store would be closed on February 15 for Family Day. Family Day? I thought. Oh yeah, Family Day. That is the holiday where my husband works. Yesterday, I went to Chapters to buy some Starbucks gift certificates. Obviously, Starbucks was busy, but the line up to buy books at Chapters was crazy. It snaked to the front doors. Perhaps many people were buying books to keep themselves occupied on Family Day while one of their loved ones were at work.
I'm not too sure how darling daughter should celebrate Family Day. We could go skating on the Rideau Canal, but I don't think I could do that without dear husband's help. We could go to a museum, but I'm sure it will be busy, since after all it is Family Day. I'd love take a walk in a park, but it is February and Andrew Haydon Park is closed for the winter. Too bad Dalton McGuinty didn't schedule Family Day in a month without snow. It would have made the holiday a little bit more enjoyable for those who have love ones working. We will likely be doing what we do every day, play and watch some television.
So for those who are in the same position as me, I raise my glass of Diet Coke to you and salute you a happy non-family day! Enjoy, my friends.
I'm back
After a two week hiatus, I am back at my keyboard. I want to apologize for my disappearance, but I was in no mood to write. Perhaps in a future post I will explain, but until then, I will catch you all up on the latest antics of darling daughter, who has hit toddlerhood with a vengeance.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Watch out for green beans
Before children, I always wondered how kids got crayons, food and other items stuck up their nose. At the time, I snickered at the thought. A crayon stuck up a nostril? As if. How does that even happen?
Well, karma can be a bitch. And what you thought was funny before having kids, don't seem so amusing when you do have them in your life. This evening at dinner, darling daughter was more interested in playing with her food than eating it. At one point, she stuck a green bean up her left nostril and it got stuck. Dear husband attempted to get it out and darling daughter began panic and cry. He started to get frustrated that he couldn't fish the green bean out of her nose. Thoughts of taking a panicky, sobbing toddler to the emergency room with a green bean stuck up her nose started fill my head. Luckily, I have more nimble fingers than dear husband's and I was able to rescue the green bean in question. Who knew, that cut up green beans could fit so perfectly in a toddler's nose?
Sadly, for dear daughter, we had a chuckle at her expense. We were more relieved than anything else. Poor little chicken. Gotta watch out for those green beans. They can be dangerous.
Well, karma can be a bitch. And what you thought was funny before having kids, don't seem so amusing when you do have them in your life. This evening at dinner, darling daughter was more interested in playing with her food than eating it. At one point, she stuck a green bean up her left nostril and it got stuck. Dear husband attempted to get it out and darling daughter began panic and cry. He started to get frustrated that he couldn't fish the green bean out of her nose. Thoughts of taking a panicky, sobbing toddler to the emergency room with a green bean stuck up her nose started fill my head. Luckily, I have more nimble fingers than dear husband's and I was able to rescue the green bean in question. Who knew, that cut up green beans could fit so perfectly in a toddler's nose?
Sadly, for dear daughter, we had a chuckle at her expense. We were more relieved than anything else. Poor little chicken. Gotta watch out for those green beans. They can be dangerous.
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