Monday, December 31, 2012

Reflections

2012  is over today. It has been a fantastic year. When I look back, I can't think of anything I didn't love about 2012.

Except the morning sickness. And fat ankles. And I now have 3 chins - yay for pregnancy. And too many poosplosions to count (including one massive one today - great job on the 2 servings of beans, mom!). And the fits. And learning to open doors. And running away from me in stores (she never stays with me). And some friend fights. And the worst winter in a long time. And Bauer spending 2 days at the vet for dehydration (darn foxtails!). My dad's heart issues. Ryan's dad's health issues. And ... and....

But in 2012 we went to Hawaii. We watched my parents renew their vows after 35 years together. We celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary. I have some amazing friends. I got too many toddler smiles to count. Toddler hugs. Giggle fits. Walks. Kisses. "I love you"'s. Summer (ahh, summer...). Halloween. Christmas. The Baby & Me 2nd Annual Christmas party. Finding out we were pregnant with #2.

2012 was pretty darn awesome.

But now let's discuss.... toddler jokes.

Toddler jokes aren't funny. They're hilarious. I don't know if they're hilarious because they're our kids so we think anything they do or say is the funniest thing ever, or if they truly are legitimately funny.

I am forced to side with the latter; toddlers, particularly mine, are legitimately funny.

Unfortunately, we don't understand 80% of what Aryn is saying so her toddler jokes are just babbling with her laughing hysterically at the end... which makes us laugh. Toddler jokes are the best. And I can't wait til they start making a bit more sense in 2013.

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Do you ever wish you could change just one thing about your kid?

Just one.

I am sure we all wish we could. I mean, I'm sure the lady in Wal-Mart today with her kid laying on the floor kicking and screaming his little head off would love to change that feature about her child.

And I, ashamingly, have one as well.

I would love to make Aryn stop throwing up whenever she cries.

I don't even know why she does it. She rarely gets into trouble, but when I am trying to get her to do something that she doesn't particularly want to do, she begins to cry with fake crocodile tears, then the gagging starts and then - bam!

Throw up.

I don't even particularly mind that she gags when she cries; I do it too, all the time. But I wish she'd find a safe place to fake throw up. Like... not in her bed. Or, not on the carpet. Or, not all over my brand new pants.

So my New Year's resolutions this year are:

1. Teach kid not to throw up when she's crying.
2. Start to enjoy pregnancy. (bwahahahha)
3. TBD

I want a good one for this year. Like less Facebook time, more baby time. Less phone time, more baby time. Less computer time, more baby time. Go for more walks. Less celebrity gossip. Stop caring more about what people are writing online than what my kid is saying in person. These are things that are common sense, but it's an addiction. One I intend to break this year.

Not that I'll have much time with 2 kids!!

Have a fantastic New Year, everyone! May 2013 bring more happiness, more smiles, more love and more joy than any previous year.

~Denise

Friday, December 28, 2012

Christmastime Scrooge

*Pre-Post Comment: I did not edit the photos... I did not put my "logo" on my photos... I'm a lazy mess today!

There are going to be a huge abundance of "Christmas" posts in the blogosphere. And I will join the ranks.

Normally, every year, I am a human elf, decorating in mid-November, running around with gifts and decorations and a ridiculous smile on my face that just screams, "Merry Christmas!" I love Christmas, and I don't care who knows it. If someone is frowning on the street, I give them a huge smile and a friendly "hello!" I leave candy canes on windows and buy the meal for the person behind me in line at Tim Horton's - every time. I wear red and green and ridiculous decoration earrings. I carefully wrap each well-thought gift and make sure every person in my life has one.

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This year, I dreaded Christmas. I was sick, Aryn was sick, Ryan was getting sick, it was -4000 degrees, I didn't get our decorations out until a week before Christmas and our tree was put up unseasonably late. I forgot to buy for at least 8 people, including the moms in my baby group; I even forgot to buy for our dog groomer until she gave her gift to me. I angrily glared at everyone who hadn't shovelled their sidewalks, and flipped off anyone who cut me off on the beyond-icy roads.

I don't even have an excuse. The season of "morning sickness" seems to have passed, even though smelly diapers still throw me into a gagging fit of despair. I am getting fat, which is a perfect excuse to fill my face with every kind of food I see, yet instead I am grossed out by everything from salty to sweet to fattening to healthy. Food = blech. Aryn was a blast at Christmas, opening all the gifts and for some reason I smacked her little hand away every time she tried to open one of my gifts.

That's mine, kiddo. You have 8 billion other gifts to open. Step away from my new sweat pants.

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Speaking of sweat pants, I'm in transition. None of my regular shirts fit any more. I can pretend they do, but they don't. I can look at myself in the mirror, suck in my stomach and think, "I don't look pregnant!" but the second I catch a quick un-sucking-in glance at myself all hope is lost. Pregnancy clothes it is.

And all of my pregnant-with-Aryn clothes are summer clothes. They don't cut it in -4000 degree weather.

It's not that I hate pregnancy clothes... I just hate how they make you look pregnant. And $30 for a tank top that is bunched on the sides instead of $8 at Wal-Mart seems ridiculous to me, so I tend to continue choosing the L and XL sizes instead of just spending the extra money on a M or S at Thyme Maternity.

Wait... this post was about Christmas...

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All in all, we had a fantastic Christmas. We spent 1 night at Ryan's parent's place because of our sicknesses and we woke up bright and early Christmas morning to an abundance of gifts. Everyone was spoiled and everyone left happy, grateful, and, in true Diana fashion, over-the-top-fed. Aryn looooooves her cousins and is always sad when we leave. If it weren't for the -4000 degree weather, we could have had more fun outdoors, but you do what you can. We played cards, drank Bailey's, and sang Christmas carols around the piano in the living room.

Magic.


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Then we spent Christmas day evening at my parents place for a fantastic turkey dinner (I can't lie; not being a vegetarian any more really has been a mealtime blessing this Christmas!), and Boxing Day morning at our house opening more gifts, having a huuuge breakfast and watching Brave 3 times in a row. Literally. I am not exaggerating.

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We truly had a fantastic Christmas. And it's our last Christmas before Baby #2 makes his/her appearance and we spend next Christmas as a family of 4 + Bauer for the first time. It's exciting and terrifying!

I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas as well and will have an even better 2013!

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And, for your entertainment, my child singing:

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Single mom life

Ryan has been gone this week. He was called up to work North of Fort McMurray. They were supposed to be gone Friday-Monday. It is now Wednesday.

What does that mean?

My kitchen pretty much resembles this:


And my bathrooms pretty much are the epitome of this:


Ok... so it may not be that bad. But believe me when I say: as the least neat freak of the two of us, when I don't like how the house looks, you know it's messy.

Ryan is supposedly coming home tomorrow and as his apology for being away for a whole week, instead of "buying me something pretty", he is on bathroom duty. And post-bathroom duty, do you know what we can do?

HAVE A PLAYDATE!

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The "cheesy grin" is back!

My friends Megan and Alex invited us over for supper last night since we've been alone for so long (which was such a blessing because I was literally about to take out the box of Annie's Mac & Cheese for the 3rd day in a row. I am a horrible cook when I'm tired).Their invitation was a true and utter blessing and a reminder of what amazing friends we have, but it was not a real play date. Aryn played with the cat. Adalynn ate everything in sight. We haven't had a real bonafide play date with our baby group in awhile. I want to create one, but I can't stand the idea of people coming to my house at this point. It's messy. People will leave thinking, "I need to go home and shower to get that house off of me" or, "Denise is disgusting."

The latter is the worst of the two thoughts.

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To go with my "disgusting" theme, these are two photos of my kid picking her nose. One with her finger, one with the end of a paint brush. Why not? 

Why don't you clean? you ask. First of all, shut up. Second of all, it's deadline week. I have a toddler. Bauer pees outside 15,000 times a day. Oh and he needs to eat and drink too. And I'm pregnant. And I just got a new phone that requires hours of playtime and investigation.

These are all very legitimate excuses.

Speaking of my new phone, it's fantastic. I now have Instagram, and cool features like being able to check Pinterest without getting computer-blocked by my toddler. It's fantastic, except I find myself missing the easiness of the blackberry and the ability to text without clicking the wrong letters every.single.time. I've even made some good autocorrect mistakes. I hope to one day make one so good it ends up on Ellen.

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In light of what happened in CT on Friday, I felt like I had to do something good to counteract the misery. I am fairly certain I cried all weekend. So, I posted on the garage sale sites on Facebook that I want to take a collection to the women's shelter. I expected 2 or 3 people to get back to me.

Well.


This was the back of my vehicle. Jam packed with items for people. It goes pretty deep in there and it also rests on the middle seat, next to Aryn. I have to admit: it felt good. Not as good as if the Friday attack had never happened, but it was one small step for mankind.

In Aryn news, she has become quite the talker. Everyone said, "one day, she's going to open her mouth and just keep talking!" Well, they were right. English has made its way (mostly) to my kid. It's bizarre. She knows a lot, and when you point at colours and say, "Which one is *this colour*?" she knows and she knows all the animals in the world but she just can't say everything yet. But it's coming. And since beginning to really talk, she has turned into a totally different kid.

Our days are filled with her smiles. When I get frustrated with her, she brings out the big guns and sends out a full on Academy Award performance that just screams "I have the worst life ever!" She is bossy. Everything is "mine." Sharing is not her fortay. She is hilarious and laughs hysterically at her hilarious jokes that I just don't get because she leaves out 80% of the correct words and letters. She is affectionate - she gives me hugs and kisses ALL day long. She gives everyone lots of hugs - and loves it. She is an amazing mommy to her babies. She is so nice to Bauer. She loves kitties and all puppies. She is so nice to people and says "hello" and "goodbye" and "thank you" and "no thank you" and "please" every chance she gets. And she listens - not all the time, mind you, but she listens. Today we went to a quick meeting for my work and she sat there, quiet, on the chair, cheering me on every time I smiled!

Storyline:
Me: "Oh thank you so much!"
Customer: "Oh not a problem at all!" *we both smile*
Aryn: "Yay mommy!"
Me: "Well we'll see you soon! Thanks again for everything!"
Aryn: "Yay mommy!"

Be still, my heart.

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Yes, there are times when I'm frustrated and annoyed with her, but the amount she has grown up in the last 2 weeks reminds me that every day she is becoming more and more of the person she will become one day and I am so excited to see who she will be... and I am even more excited to say that I really believe I'm going to like the person she becomes. Because I love surrounding myself with great friends, great people, a great job, and lots of happiness and love. And when you have a kid who is an epitome of all of that... it really excites me to think of what her future holds.

As long as the world doesn't end on Friday. Fingers crossed.

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Saturday, December 15, 2012

Life.

In light of what happened in Newtown yesterday, I can't help but wonder what a parent can do while raising a child to create an adult able to do such a horrendous thing, such as killing anyone - let alone children. What was done to those who sexually abuse? What was done to those who abuse women?

I yelled at Aryn this morning. Why? Because she was eating dog food. Then she left the dog food and proceeded to lick the window on our shelving unit. Then she walked over to her table and flipped it on its side. Then she threw her boots straight across the room. Then she tried to hit Bauer. Then she dumped all of her toys on the floor.

She was, by all accounts, a human tornado. Destruction was eminent in her path.

So, in my frustrated, pregnant mess of a mom, I yelled at her. I yelled at her to stop, to take a break, to calm down, to throw me a fricken bone.

I'd like to think the dramatic, "Oh my goodness, my mom is the meanest mom EVER" Academy Award performance displayed by my child does not mean that one day she will take another human life. I like to think when she gets in trouble for licking the bugs off the front of the car, she won't one day end up in a straight jacket in an insane asylum (although, I'm pretty sure licking dead bugs would be classified as "insane." Even by 2-year old qualifications.)

So what causes this kind of action? I read the mother of the killer was a gun nut. I read the mother of this crazed boy took her kids to gun practice. Does this account for his actions? Does teaching a child how to shoot a gun one day teach them it's ok to kill 18 children?

I sure as hell hope not.

The old adage, "Guns don't kill people, people kill people," is getting on my nerves. Someone walking into a school carrying a fist of rage or a pocket knife is going to kill a lot less people than walking into a school carrying 3 loaded guns. Are we coming to an age where we need to add metal detectors at every public door? I won't lie; I'm nervous to go to a movie theatre, the mall, the store, a school... in fear that someone I love could be shot. And that's the key word: shot. I'm not scared of someone walking into a theatre and yelling at me. Guns do kill people; they're just held by people who want to kill these people.

Yes, guns kill people; and so do vehicles, and fists, and knives, and planes, and falling down the stairs. My daughter's Barbie got decapitated by being thrown in a fit of rage when I wouldn't get her have a third candy cane. I am sick of humans blaming death on something else. It's always something else's fault. Someone else's fault. It's never YOUR fault.

Sure, you were molested as a child. That's not an excuse for molesting other children. So you were beaten as a child, that doesn't give you the right to beat your wife. I don't think my daughter decapitating her Barbie means one day she will decapitate a human being. And, with shifty eyes, I am praying these words don't one day come back to bite me. Oh and biting; that's a whole other subject but one I don't feel has any merit on future psychotic tendencies.

My heart is broken for everyone in Newtown and all of the families of those lost. I can't imagine my daughter's bedroom being empty and it pains me to think that, since we don't know what will happen in the future, it could happen one day. I can't protect her in a bubble. I can't homeschool her just because I'm terrified that she could get murdered in school. I can't keep her locked up in the basement because I'm scared of drunk drivers or idiots who drive erratically. I can't protect her little life, and as much as that scares me, it's a reality I must face. All I can do is show her every day that I love her unconditionally, even when she's destroying everything in her path, and teach her about God so that she has a beautiful future.

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Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Potty Training

Let's discuss potty training.

Potty training a toddler is, in my opinion, directly comparable to trying to teach Bauer to ONLY poop on the front lawns of the rude refuse-to-shovel-their-sidewalks home owners in my neighbourhood. Neither can be done, but I certainly try on a regular, daily basis.

You name the suggestion that worked for you, I've tried it. Stickers, new potties, Smarties, cheering, dancing, singing, fancy shmancy panties, naked time, grown-up toilet seats just for her, making Ryan help her with it, closing the door (for privacy)... I could go on and on. We have tried everything.

Mind you, I haven't stuck to any one ideology, because, quite frankly, the kid isn't ready. She is too active, she is too busy running around like a crazy maniac hopped up on sugar to actually stop and think, "do I need to pee?"

And having a 2-year old just not ready to be potty trained is just fine. I can say honestly she has never had a UTI, or any issues with her bladder or bowels. She is healthy and happy, and if our biggest "complaint" with her is that she's still costing us $15.99 a month on environmentally-friendly diapers, then so be it. It's better than doing 15 loads of wash a day with pee-and-poop-filled clothes.

I took her to Walmart the other day, and showed her the Wall of Panties. I have never seen a bigger selection, and I shop at Victoria's Secret on a regular basis. I am not certain why a child of 8 needs "sexy panties" or thongs; yet there they were, in pink purse-like packages with lace and polka dots. Aryn will be wearing granny panties until she is 45; I guarantee it.

She picked the kitties (Hello Kitty), who she's seriously obsessed with at this point. She held on to that panties purse throughout the entire store. She was so proud, and embarrassingly showed it off to everyone. We got home, she helped me throw them in the wash (after taking off every single little piece of plastic holding every single panty securely to the purse-packaging said panties come in... seriously, Hello Kitty creators... why do you hate mothers so much? Is charging $9 for 6 pairs of panties not enough, that you need to make it an Olympic sport to remove them from the stupid purse, that I'm sure cost three times as much as all 6 pairs of panties together?)

Once out of the dryer, I asked Aryn if she wanted to wear them. She said no. Awesome.

She then stole the panties, brought them to her babies, and put every single pair on a different baby. 6 stuffed babies wearing toddler panties. Real child: in a leaking pee-filled diaper.

Our potty training experiences have been exciting, to say the least. We've had a bottom-free day where she sat up against the bathroom door and pooped on the floor. It was everywhere except the toilet, which was literally mere inches from her poop-covered leg. She's hidden behind couches and peed... keep in mind, we have 4 washrooms in this house and they are all within 5 feet of every couch we own. Yet there she was, peeing on the hardwood and splashing her foot in it.

This morning, after she woke up and I was changing her 15lb diaper, I asked if she wanted to go naked that morning. She jumped up, all excited (as was I! Finally!), ran to her closet, grabbed a diaper, threw it at me, laid down and ordered it to be put "On, mommy." Guess that's a no, then...

Said kid puts her babies on the toilet daily, and she cheers for them when they "pees" or "poops". She changes their diapers, she makes them wear her panties, she asks them constantly if they need to "potty." Her stuffed babies are fantastic at potty training; they've never had a pee-filled diaper or an accident to date! Aryn is a better mom than her own mom. Note to self: only give birth to fake stuffed elephants and bunny dolls.

Then, you turn around, ask the same kid who is potty training her babies if we can put her on the potty. One of two things normally happens:

1. She gets put on the potty, only to scream and cry until she convinces me to take her off.

2. She runs away, screaming and crying like I just kicked her in the shins, hides behind the couch, yells "No potty, mommy! No poops!" then stops, red-faced and grunting...

Aaaaand off to another diaper change. I hope I don't throw up this time.

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see how her babies are on the "potty"??

Sunday, December 2, 2012

The tree is (finally?) up

Every year, Ryan has to fight me to keep me from putting up decorations and the tree before November 12th. In fact, I normally want to start decorating November 1st... but I hold off until after Remembrance Day. This year, I don't know if it's the nausea or the horrendous weather we've been dealt with, but this year it's December 2 and we just put our tree up... and I still don't feel like "Christmas."

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This is our last Christmas with just Aryn. Mind you, with the world supposedly ending in a couple of weeks, we may not even get our last Christmas with just Aryn. I hope the world holds off on its demise.

Tonight we put up the tree. Our stockings were put up the other day, with other random Christmas decor that I realize I have way too much of. It's been too cold to decorate the outside so everything is still nicely in its "outdoor box" sitting by the front door, just waiting for a break from the snow and cold. It was supposed to come yesterday... but instead, it snowed blizzard-like for 2 straight days. Thanks, David Spence. (For those of you who aren't local, David Spence is the local meteorologist... who is rarely ever right.)

So we decorated the tree today. Aryn only broke one decoration, and I'm very happy about that. Thankfully, it was one of her decorations and it was ugly. So it wasn't a hard pill to swallow.

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Aryn woke up from her nap and saw the tree standing there in our living room and exclaimed, "Mommy! Woah! Mommy!" And then immediately made Ryan come help her look at it closer. This is what Christmas is about.

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We discovered that, at 2 years old, Aryn kind of sucks at putting up decorations. 15 decorations were on the same branch, one on top of another. By the time we noticed, the branch was pretty much touching the floor. She did not want me "fixing" or "helping" her to move said decorations to other branches... so I bribed her with a cream cheese cupcake that Auntie Aleesha made and fixed the tree.

Mama likes a nice tree, kid.

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Aryn even put up the star... I only have "before" photos because I had to come to their aide and take the star away. Toddlers and star tops do not mix.

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This is Aryn looking at a Bauer ornament. She sure loves that jerk dog.

So the tree is up, the stockings are hung, the decorations litter the house, and hopefully soon our outdoors will also look like a magical bright-over-done-coloured Griswald house. Here's to hoping.

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Here's to a fantastic Christmas season... and here's to the world not ending! Can I hear a "woot woot!"?

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