Archive for October, 2007

Halloween, Eirinn style

Halloween 2007 for Eirinn was kind of…non-existent.  She’s just too little to understand.  She doesn’t eat candy, so what possible motivation would she have to dress up in a hot, scary costume, walk to strangers houses, follow instructions, just to be given candy that a) she doesn’t like and b) mommy would steal anyway? 

We tried, though.  We tried everything.  She got crammed into her costume several times and only once did her face look like this:

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All other attempts, her face was more contorted like you would see on a man being cattle prodded in the eye.  Painful and angry.  My mom and sister even tried fancying up her face with a Tigger nose and whiskers, but it was still a no-go.  A very, very firm no-go.  The costume fits up to 36 months, so we’ll try this whole thing again next year.

While Halloween 2007 was not so much Tigger-fied, she did mildly tolerate a raincoat with a duck head for a hood.  So, out of desperation to get at least one actual picture that was authentic and not Eirinn Photoshopped into a random Halloween scene, the plan was changed and she went out as a Duck.  Or a Girl Who Thinks It’s Raining Outside because the raincoat had a very important accessory – red dinosaur rubber boots, which are not very Duck-like.  Or maybe she was dressed up as Abbey because that’s who the coat belongs to and the novelty of the coat to Eirinn was that it was Abbey’s.  As in, ‘Tee hee, I’m stealing Abbey’s coat and Bugba let me!’  So perhaps her costume was Raincoat Thief.  You decide.

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It didn’t really matter what she was dressed as because she only went to Anonymous Bubba and Papa’s house.  We figured the neighbours might look at this girl dressed in a regular old raincoat and think that it’s just a candy grab for mommy and daddy.  Which it would have been. 

Anonymous Husband took her to his parents’ house while I handed out candy to the neighbourhood kidlets and here is a list of things that made Eirinn cry while they were gone:

  1. I wasn’t with her.  She’s a little bit of a Mama’s Girl lately, which rocks, but it made her cry that I wasn’t going, too.

  2. She helped hand out some of the candy while there to kids who wear scary masks.  Scary masks are scary.

  3. She bonked her head on the car door as she was getting out.  Legitimate reason to cry.  I’ll give her this one.

Halloween is not going to be her favourite holiday.

***

As a side note, this is our first year in our new house, so we didn’t really know what to expect for trick-or-treater traffic.  We bought enough candy for about 80 kids, including special fishy crackers for the little ones which were given the Eirinn Seal of Approval.  25 kids.  That’s all we got!  And you know what that means.  Anonymous Husband and I get to split about 35 kids worth of candy and Eirinn gets 20 packs of Ritz Scuba snacks!  Awesome. 

Halloween Candy Rule #1 – Buy only candy you’d eat.  However, buy some you love and some you don’t mind parting with.

Halloween Candy Rule #2 – Buy way too much.  Calculate how many kids you think you’ll get and multiply that number by at least 3.  Four if you got the candy on sale.

Halloween Candy Rule #3 – Only hand out candy from 6pm to 8pm, NO EXCEPTIONS.  Not even if there’s a two year old with their chubby little unicorn finger on the doorbell.  Sorry, Chubs.  Shop’s closed.

Get a bag

Picture this:

As I’m dropping Eirinn off at Bugba’s/daycare, I ask for my morning goodbye kiss.  Mama’s gotta go to work.  Surprisingly, this morning she doesn’t put up a fuss.  In fact, she comes running to me, lips puckered.  My heart leaps and I couldn’t be happier.  We make our mwah mwah mwah noise.

Now here’s where you should have taken my advice and gotten a bag.  Good luck to you if you thought I was joking.

Our lips touch and release in typical kissy fashion.  As I’m pulling away, life is now in slow motion.  I cross my eyes and look down.  What do I see but the one thing that is guaranteed to make me kvetch every time.  Gay-ron-teed.  A long, slimy, warm string of snot attached on one end to her nose and on the other?  My lips.  Snot.  Touching my lips.  I nearly fainted.  The only thing that stopped me from passing out right there on the floor was the overwhelming urge to hurl. 

It was snot.  On my lips.  And I could taste it.  I’m still queasy.

Energy to burn

Eirinn has always had a lot of energy.  I don’t know where she gets it from because Anonymous Husband and I are one snore away from being permanently unconscious.  That is to say, we do not have a lot of energy.  But Eirinn does.  Even compared to other toddlers, she’s hyper.  She’ll run laps around furniture for hours, stopping only to hop, yell “MOMMY!  COLOUR!”, smack the dog lovingly, and then back to running. 

Some people use this just as an expression but with her, it’s true – I’m exhausted just watching her.  That’s because “watching her” involves keeping pace with her sprints, running defence for Bosco, catching flying toys before they crash into something ding-able.  And I’m not even going to describe to you how diapers get changed; I’ll pass out finding the words.  I nearly spontaneously combusted on Friday when my mom told me that she’s never changed a diaper while the baby or toddler was standing up.  What?!?!  Never?  She does daycare and has changed the diaper of literally dozens and dozens of children.  None of them have been standing?  Not only have I mastered the vertical diaper change, I’ve also perfected changing a diaper while Eirinn is running.  Yes, running.  That’s vertical + motion, people.  I certainly didn’t sign up for vertical + motion diaper changes when I was inking the whole parent deal, but I adapted and found a new skill I didn’t think I’d ever need to find.

The past couple of days have been exponentially worse.  Strike that.  I hate to say worse because I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing.  Yes, it’s exhausting.  Yes, it can be frustrating.  But how can I possibly be upset about her being…hmm…spirited?  I can’t see how I can.  Anyway, she has been extra…spirited…these past couple of days, which has conveniently coincided with a few days of me having less than normal energy.  We need to coordinate our schedules better because I am drained.  DRAINED.  Yesterday I napped while she napped and I still fell asleep on the couch at 9:30 with Transformers playing in the background. 

At 19 months, she is just at the Dawn of Toddler-dom, so I best get used to it.  I’m trying.  I’m realizing that sometimes it’s ok to have toys strewn from one end of the house to the other.  If I have to chase her all day to make sure that she is safe and happy, then the toys can wait until she goes to bed.  I also know that if I have to put on Dora so that I can sit for half a second, then Dora’s going on.  Maybe even two or three episodes in a row. 

There is a bonus for me out of all Eirinn’s portable chaos – she’s an excellent diet plan.  Not only do I not have time to sit and eat bonbons (which I would totally do if I could), it’s a 24 hour cardio workout like no other.

Friday Five – Pictures from before (also, One Day Late 2)

It’s been one of those days weeks and I’m not feeling all that funny/creative/nice.  So instead of totally abandoning my legions of loyal readers, I thought I’d cop-out post some of my favourite pictures from before I started blogging my life away.  In the spirit of being fair, I will give you my top 6 for being a day late (again…) on the Friday Five.

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This was Eirinn at Easter, 2006.  She was 5 weeks old.  She looks either bored with this whole Easter deal or ready to order another round.  She was going through one of her ‘eat every hour and a half and watch mommy go insane’ phases, so she’s probably ordering another round.

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Is this not the cutest little bunny picture ever?  Miffy’s got nothing on her.  She was just over 2 months old there.  Which means we were lucky to get a picture where she isn’t screaming.  She screamed a lot.  A.  LOT.  But looking back at pictures like this makes me forget about that just for a little while.

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You’ll see this picture in my banner.  It’s a classic.  She was screaming before and after I took it because of that bonnet.  It was so ridiculous, it was both adorable and almost child abuse to put it on her.  But I made her wear it.  Often.  The look of terror is because of the red light on the camera.  Scaaaaa-ry.

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Never has there been a t-shirt more suited to one person than this one as it relates to Eirinn. 

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Remember the part in Peter Pan when his shadow is misbehaving and it has to be sewn back onto his foot?  It’s right at the beginning.  This picture reminds me of that.  It looks like she’d been chasing her shadow around the room and finally did a flying tackle and has it clenched in her little hands.  If only someone would be kind enough to put the stupid camera down and pin it back onto her.  Plus it’s one of the first pictures where you can see some peach-fuzz hair.  Poor girl was bald for way too long.

And the bonus number 6. 

Eirinn actually participated in Halloween last year.  We went to a local pumpkin patch with our Babyville group and it was the best thing ever seeing all the little babies in their costumes sitting amongst the pumpkins.  Eirinn, surprisingly, was the only one dressed up as an actual pumpkin.  She also looks unamused.

I’m sad looking at this picture because I don’t think she’s going to let me put a costume on her this year.  I tried forcing it on her again today, but it just turned into a wrestling match with a lot of crying and yelling.  I tried making it sound fun to wear it.  I tried wearing the hat myself.  I tried sneaking it on her.  Nothing seems to be working and I’m giving up hope of getting an adorable Halloween, Year 2 picture.  Maybe I’ll just Photoshop her head onto a picture of the costume and be done with it.  Less stress, no mess.

Hallo-what?

I think we need to work on the whole concept of Halloween a little more before next Wednesday.  She knows she’s going to be Tigger.  She wants to be Tigger.  When asked what she’s going to be for Halloween, she’ll tell you “Tigger.”  But this knowledge is superficial.

“What are you going to be for Halloween, Eirinn?”

“Tigger.”

“Are you going to dress up like Tigger?”

“NO!”, with a scowl and a furrowed brow like we just called her a stinkin’ yellow-bellied weasel.  She turns to the nearest toddler to discuss, in toddlerese, the ridiculousness of having to dress up in a costume in order for these idiotic grown ups to know that you are what you say you are.  If she says she’s Tigger, she’s Tigger.  Stupid.

“Do you want to be Pooh, instead?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to dress up like Pooh?”

“NO!”

And the same goes for princess, firefighter, Tinkerbell, butterfly.  Pretty much anything other than Pigheaded Toddler Wearing Regular Toddler Clothing.  I don’t think I’ll she’ll get much candy if I shove her to our neighbours’ doors dressed as…nothing.  And she’ll probably be screaming at the same time. 

Leaky diaper update

Thanks so much for your help Carly, Stefanie, swimmom, Colleen and girlymama.  Anonymous Husband?  I bid you a 😛 with a lot of spit. 

That very day, I took all of your advice down to A&P and bought a jumbo pack of Pampers Baby Dry, size 5.  She’s a big girl now, and big girls have big butts.  I’m still using the remaining size 4’s during the day because she’s never had a leaking problem when she’s vertical.

Monday night, she was dry as a bone outside of the diaper, despite the over inflated water balloon that was sagging in her two jamas.  Hurray!  Success!

Tuesday night, she was soaked again.  Boo.  Not nearly as bad as she had been over the weekend, but definitely wetter than dry, which was the look I was going for. 

Last night, dry again.  I’m tres confuzzed. 

My newly educated guess is that circumstances outside of the diaper size are causing the leakage.  I’m sticking to the whole no water between dinner and bottle deal, so she’s not over-hydrated.  Maybe it’s the bottle that’s pushing her bladder beyond it’s fluid capacity.  But I’m not ready to give that up yet.  And I do mean “I” am not ready to give it up.  She’s a near-OCD creature of habit and the transition between our current bedtime routine and what comes next is not something I’m looking forward to.  Not without copious amounts of hard liquor, medication, and/or duct tape.  For both of us.

So, I’ll keep putting the size 5 on for bed, hoping that Tuesday night was an anomaly and that the larger size really is the best solution.  But if it turns out that that doesn’t work, I suppose I’m going to have to get used to one jamas, which means more laundry.  OR I’ll just buy more pajamas.  Yes, I’ll probably do that instead.

Potty Schmotty

My mom was holding Eirinn when she (Eirinn, not my mom) said “Poop.”  We asked her if she had to go poop and she said yes.  We asked her if she wanted to go poop on the potty and she said yes.  We took her to the potty and got her prepared.  Screaming and flailing and all kinds of toddler chaos ensued.

Silly Bugba and I mistakenly thought that when she said that, yes, she would like to go poop on the potty, she meant that she’d like to sit on the potty and poop.  In fact, what she meant was that she would like to go into the washroom and, while there, perhaps we could get her an ice cream cone or a monkey or maybe Diego will be in there waiting to take her on one of his ‘aventuras’ to save Linda the Llama from a puma or anything other than pooping on the potty.  Oh, gawd, don’t make her go poop on the potty. 

We gave up and let her investigate a hair brush for a little while.  And by investigate I mostly mean chew on the handle.

“Uh…gramma?  Bare.  Butt.”

I guess when you’re saving a llama or eating a ‘keen cone’, you should always wear a diaper and pants.  Because someone might think you want to use a potty or something.  And that?  That would be bad.