You go first


Happy Saturday and Happy Easter!

I’ve always been pee shy. I hate public washrooms and will avoid them if at all possible. I was never one of those girls who needed two or three girlfriends to go to the washroom with me. It’s not a place to hang out, there’s only room for one (no matter the size of the washroom). I pee in private thank you very much. Even after a few drinks at a bar, I’d find myself letting people go ahead of me in line so there’d be less people around.

Why am I telling you this? Because now I can’t be alone. Well I CAN but I never get a chance to. I always have a little boy who follows me around and says ‘pee pee’ as soon as he seems me walking towards the bathroom. He just stands there, smiling! I don’t remember what it is like to go to the washroom and be able to close the door. Sure, I can close them both (we have one main washroom door and one that leads to our bedroom) but since A has long ago figured out how to open doors, what’s the point? I could lock them, sounds easy enough, but there is nothing more exhausting than the sound of little palms banging on a door, a doorknob being turned repeatedly and ‘MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY” being shouted while you are trying to take 30 seconds to yourself to pee! I am willing myself to hurry up, just to make the noise stop. So yeah, I just leave the door open. He can follow if he wants. I’ve lost this fight.

I even find myself running off to the washroom at times when he is busy, like in his chair eating, so I can pee in private even if I don’t have to go. I sure as heck am gonna try. It’s like a luxury not to have an audience these days. I saw a picture posted on Facebook of a bathroom door closed and a kids fingers poking out from underneath the door with a funny caption. I don’t even remember what it said because it was the picture that made me laugh. I have been there. I have seen the fingers under the door. “I know you are in there Mommy, how dare you try to escape me”.

We even bought A his own potty, so now when I go to the washroom he follows and starts taking off his pants. This is it, I think, this is the moment. ‘PEE PEE’ I ask?? ”Okay” he says! So I help him out of his pants and diaper and he sits down and the roles are reversed, he is on the potty and I am standing there smiling and watching. Only I wait and I listen and I offer a treat if he does his pee! But nothing. Not yet anyways. It will come, in time. He knows what it is for, he just needs to do it. We haven’t started actively training him yet but he’s off to a good start.

Why are toddlers infatuated with the toilet anyways? He wants his hands in there, he throws my makeup in there. Q-tips, deodorant, toothbrushes, he likes to see it all floating in the toilet bowl. Let’s not forget socks. That was a nice surprise 😉 A literally broke the handle on our toilet he flushed it so often. He has cost us a lot of money in wasted toilet tissue as well.

So the purpose of this rant about relieving myself is to remind everyone to never underestimate the freedom of peeing alone. That, coupled with a long hot shower, is like a day at the spa in my books.

Hugs & Smiles


Fasten your seatbelt


Happy Saturday!

Well it seems the terrible twos have arrived in my house, uninvited. Terrible twos?  Ha! What an understatement! They should be called ‘stock up on alcohol because you might need it’ twos. And I hear threes are worse. What about age 4 and 5? What are they? Should I be warned about them too?

My son is 3 months shy of turning 2 years old. WOW! When I think about it, it freaks me out. Didn’t he just turn one??! Anyways, that is another post. Now he isn’t ‘terrible’ all day everyday, he’s still the happy adorable boy that I love to be around ……most of the time. Then like a switch, he has a meltdown. You never know when it’s going to happen, what will set him off. Two days ago it was closing the fridge door when he obviously wasn’t ready. The night before it was taking his puffs from him (because he wanted to eat the whole container and that wasn’t gonna happen). Yesterday morning it was putting his boots on. Each one resulted in a total freak out. I mean, meltdown city. If it wasn’t so frustrating it’d be hilarious.

When A is in the midst of a tantrum, I find myself wondering which would be more painful – slamming my head against the wall (and I mean a real slam, not just a tap) or witnessing the tantrum. I wonder what an outsider would think if they saw one of his tantrums because it is not pretty. I am sure, and probably soon, he will have one in public. I just hope no passerby pulls out their phone and records it and posts it on YouTube. I can see the heading now “”Damn…..I pity the mother of this child”. ” When this happens (and I say when because I know it’s inevitable), I will do one of two things: 1) pick him up under my arm and leave or 2) I will walk away and pretend he isn’t mine. I will say ‘who owns this child?’.  I am just joking of course! I would never do that, not seriously anyways 😉

A gets so worked up and angry there is nothing you can do to calm him down. You have to let the tantrum run its course. When something sets him off he literally goes from being calm to a madman in 2 seconds flat. For the first minute I let him cry and remove him from whatever pissed him off in the first place. I try to talk to him calmly but when he starts (literally) smacking me in the face or pinching my neck or pulling my hair I decide it’s best if I walk away (after I tell him NO of course). I let him run around screaming, get it out of his system. Part of me wants to just scream back (and I admit sometimes I do raise my voice, as in ‘That’s enough A. Stop’). It doesn’t help either of us but it is better than the alternative- me banging my head off that attractive looking wall.

Anyways, a few minutes later the switch goes off. He calms down, takes a look around, totally forgetting what made him mad in the first place. Then he goes about his business as if the outburst didn’t just happen. Seriously? Phew! Glad that is over…..but I am exhausted and I can’t help but wonder when the next one will be. Hopefully not for a few days time, hopefully not in 5 minutes.

The worst part about all this is how I feel like the bad guy. Mommy closed the fridge, A has a meltdown, Daddy comes in almost at the end of the meltdown, helps distract the little guy, he calms down, sits on Daddy’s lap, close to hyperventilating, all the while looking at Mommy with these “Mommy is mean” eyes. Mean Mommy took the puffs away, Mean Mommy put my boots on! It would be so easy to just open the fridge again, or give him the damn puffs! But I can’t! What would that teach him? To throw a tantrum to get his way? I swear, if Daddy gave him those puffs back or took off those boots, he’d have a place reserved on that wall for his head too.

I guess it comes with the territory, being the bad guy. I might as well get used to it but I will never like it. What I do like is after it is all said and done, after the red color fades from my son’s face, he returns to the little boy I am used to and he comes over and gives me a kiss and walks away. It reminds me of two things:  1) I am one lucky Mama and 2) Damn, this motherhood business is like a rollercoaster.

All I can really do is buckle up and enjoy the ride.

Hugs & Smiles