Archive for the 'Surprises' Category

Guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow

I just took an on-line gender prediction test and after answering 20 or so questions, the results were 47% boy and 53% girl.  This translates to:

 “You are definitely, maybe, quite possibly, or not, having either a boy or a girl, or both, or neither. But we are 61% certain you are having something. Even if it’s just a snack.  Or not.  Please don’t sue us.”

The Chinese Calendar says girl.  Everyone else in the known universe says boy.  I say there’s definitely something in there, boy or girl, and whatever it is, it sure does wiggle a lot.  That’s all I know.

until tomorrow…


as long as fetupus cooperates and shows us his or her bits…

and if he or she is anything like his or her older sister, he or she will be crossing his or her legs as tight as he or she can, thinking we’re awfully pre-verted with all this interest in his wee-wee or her hoo-ha…

Anonymous Husband and I don’t really care if it’s a he or a she.  Our interest lies in getting the room prepared, either keeping or replacing Eirinn’s old clothes, picking a name, and putting an imagined face to the idea of a new family member.  On one hand, a girl would be cheaper (less to replace, more to re-use) and easier as we know how to parent a girl, in general.  On the other hand, a boy would be an interesting change and would add a bit of a hormonal balance to our house.  And what dad doesn’t want at least one boy?

But, as cheesy and typical as it sounds, we will honestly be thrilled with either (I think our chances of getting ‘either’ are fairly good, so – yay!) and tomorrow’s ultrasound is basically just a formality.  A highly anticipated, extremely looked-forward-to (what?  shut up, I’m pregnant and can make up phrases if I want) formality.

So look for the big reveal (or disappointing let down of ‘no news’) tomorrow.


Because this:


This never happens.


She can have a pony if she wants

7:30pm – on the way to bed.

“Eirinn, I love you!  Can you say I love you, Daddy?”

“I lah loo, Daddy.”

“Can you say I love you, Mommy?”

“I lah loo, Mommy.”

From the minds of babes

An excerpt from the weekend:

(Eirinn playing in a toy push car, Mommy watching)

“Eirinn what’s this?”  Eirinn comes over, bends down and looks closely, very curious.  A puzzled look on her face, she looks up, confused.

“It’s where the gas goes.  Open it up and put the gas in it so the car will go.”  Eirinn considers this for a minute.  You could almost see the little hampster turning the wheel in her head.  Eureka!  The hampster *POOF* disappeared and transformed into a lightbulb above her head.  Eirinn bent over picked a few sprouts of grass, opened the gas cap and shoved them in there. 

Hardly (as in, not at all) containing my laughter, “Yes, Eirinn, that’s right.  That’s where the grass goes.”


Apparently that lightbulb was an energy efficient 20 watt cool white standard compact spiral flourescent bulb. 

If only, Eirinn.  If only.

I’m totally not lying; I have witnesses…

I swear on a stack of bibles, or Archie comics, or little green soldiers, or whatever idol you revere as holy…Eirinn said a full and complete sentence at lunch today.  And not just a sentence, but a four word response to a question.  The conversation went something like this –

“Eirinn?  Who’s a big girl?” said I.

“I a big girl.” said the newly proclaimed President and CEO of Mensa, Ontario chapter. 

She needs some work on her grammar, but not too shabby for a first attempt by a 16 month old.

Did you hear that ‘slap’? That was my head.

Just when I think I have Eirinn all figured out, she goes and does a 180 on me and I’m stuck at the beginning again, wondering ‘who is this child, and where did she come from?’  Sometimes it’s excruciating periods of baby-gone-wild, in the most horrible, rotten ways.  Days on end of temper tantrums, defiance, and Angry Face.  Fights about diaper changes, eating, naps, everything.  And I bat about .500 – half the time I stand my ground and she caves (as in she throws a fit and I ignore her), the other half I resort to compromise, begging, or tears (sometimes all three).

Other times, like this weekend, she snaps out of her devil-in-training attitude and wakes up an absolute angel.  I think we’ve had the best two days in a row since she was born.  She has been joyous, charming, hilarious, agreeable, obedient, lovable and loving.  She has eaten all her meals with little fuss, her diapers have been changed with only minor battles, and, best of all, has been napping like she should be – well.  These naps I credit to a “new” technique I discovered on Saturday.

I’m not sure why it took me so long to try this “new” technique, seeing as how blatantly obvious it is, and, no, it doesn’t involve any form of tranquilization.  Eirinn has been an excellent nighttime sleeper for about 6 months (at least the going to sleep part – she still will wake up on some nights once or twice).  Our routine has been that I announce that it’s bedtime, ask her if she wants a baba and that she should say ‘night night’ to daddy.  We take her baba, blankie and soother up to the spare room, I rock her while she drinks and I watch some boring adult show for background noise.  I then walk with her laying down (but awake) into her room, tuck her in, brush her cheek and walk out without saying a word.  Done.  Baby asleep.  Now, why on earth haven’t I been doing this for naptime, instead of rocking, begging, pleading, crying (both of us), until she finally gives in, which usually takes at least a half an hour?  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  After I did the nighttime routine for naptime, Eirinn slept for two straight hours both Saturday and Sunday.  Of course this worked.  Why wouldn’t it?  I quite literally slapped myself in the forehead for not doing this since day one.  I wonder if Delightful Eirinn would have emerged more often if these wonderful naps had of been more of a daily occurance.  Probably.  Duh…

Anyway, moral of the story:  1) Eirinn is going through an angelic phase and I’m soaking up every minute before Beelzebub’s apprentice returns.  This reappearance will coincide with the next tooth/illness/growth spurt, I’m sure. 2) Eirinn’s mommy was an idiot.  Idiot mommy has been replaced with enlightened mommy.  For now.  Until the next 180.

Not that I’m bragging, but…..

Eirinn turned 16 months on Saturday.  Here is what Eirinn has learned in the last week:

  • she can toddle like a penguin, and does it on command
  • she has grown obsessed with colouring, although this usually ends with a crayon in her mouth
  • she knows both noises a train makes (chugga chugga and choo choo)
  • she now washes herself – makes suds in her hands and cleans her face and hair

And these are her newest words:

  • Lucy (Ooshie)
  • Play (play)
  • Colour (ca-yur)
  • Out (ooot)
  • Please (pleash)
  • Ok (ok)
  • she also hums when she is contimplating something (‘Eirinn, would you like some cereal?’ ‘mmmmmmmmm….’)

Smartest.  Baby.  Ever.  But I might be a little biased.

Tornado Eirinn

The life and times, trials and tribulations, crimes and punishments, lessons learned and scores settled by my daughter, Eirinn, AKA The Tornado.

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When I Wrote

May 2020


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