Posts Tagged 'toddler'

Follow the leader (with my recipe)

After weeks of eating completely healthy 100% of the timemostly healthy 85% of the time, something was bound to give.  I had turned myself into a regular Betty Crocker in months previous, after all, so a stick of pure butter, several cups of sugar, and a couple of egg yolks were bound to find their own way into a bowl, mix themselves together, fload their way into the oven and bake themselves into cookies.  And wouldn’t it be rude if I didn’t eat them all after they went to so much trouble?  I think it would be terribly ungrateful of me not to eat them all.

Ok, so no magic cookies, but after reading this, I felt compelled by the power of Jesus to whip up a batch of my World’s Greatest Chocolate Chip Cookies.  By the way, how much do you have to change a recipe before you can officially call them  your own?  ‘Cause I’ve done quite a bit of tweaking to this recipe and I feel rightful in calling them “my” cookies.  Especially when they are so darn delicious and irresistable.  Just ask Carly’s husband.

Carly called them Devil Cookies, which I completely disagree with.  Not only are they not Devil Cookies, but I think they were sent down by a higher power, in a gift basket, with a card signed “Enjoy – G.”  I’m just saying…they are that good.  In fact, I’ll be right back…

*burp*

In an attempt to escape doing puzzles for the entire morning on Saturday, Eirinn and I decided to make these together.  It went much better than I expected.  Nothing “accidentally” broke.  “No one” had a fit.  And I think she enjoyed herself.  Mostly she watched me while asking “You need this?” of every measuring spoon, mixing utensil, and ingredient.  She helped me pour in the chocolate chips, receiving a handful of chips as a reward.

picture-357.jpg  She was an excellent chocolate chip pourer.  She didn’t spill one.  Or at least she ate up her mess before I saw it.

picture-362.jpg  Then we waited the long, torturous 15 minutes of baking time.  That heavenly smell was enough to send Eirinn into madness.

picture-363.jpg  See?  This is what she was driven to do while we waited.  Soccer in oven mitts.  Not an act of a sane person.  Is anyone else mesmerized by the Doras on her pants?  They are hypnotizing me into eating more cookies…

picture-365.jpg  And the prize for waiting?  Yummy cookies.  Well, at least yummy, melty chocolate chips.  She ate the cookie part about two hours later.

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New Quirks

Eirinn is a quirky kind of girl.  She has all kinds of them.  The usual toddler quirks like asking a ker-billion questions all in a row without waiting for an answer to any of them, or asking to get up, up, up then immediately asking to get down, down, down.  You know, the standards.

And in the past few weeks she’s started a few new things that can definitely be labelled “quirky”.  Anything that, when performed in front of a stranger, needs to be a) apologized for, or b) explained with eye-rolls, can be labelled as “quirky”.

New quirk #1 – “What’s that sound like?”

This one is certainly cute.  I don’t know where she got it from, but she wants to know what every little noise is.  It’s usually a truck, even if it isn’t.  If I don’t know what the sound was, I’ll say “I don’t know, what does it sound like?” and she’ll say “a truck” or “a digger truck”, because we live in an under-construction subdivision.

New quirk #2 – “…RIGHT NOW!”

This one?  Not so cute.  She has learned how to be demanding.  Not that she wasn’t demanding before, but now she knows how to verbalize it.  I don’t know who taught her this, but it isn’t funny.  “Have cookie, RIGHT NOW!”  “See Bugba, RIGHT NOW!” 

New quirk #3 – Two Ah-lankies

So she has these two fuzzy green blankets, two different ‘brands’.  First she liked the thin one best.  She carried this one around for about a year.  Then her and thin ah-lankie must have gotten into a fight or something because she didn’t like it anymore and she liked thick ah-lankie better.  Then thick ah-lankie was accidentally forgotten at Bugba’s house one night and thin ah-lankie had to act as a substitute.  She started calling thin ah-lankie “New Ah-lankie”, even though it was the older one.  Now she has to have both.  Everywhere she goes.  She drags both around like they were sewn to her palms.  Oh, and if you didn’t catch on, an ah-lankie is a blanket.

New quirk #4 – “I carry you?”

This means “Can you carry me?”, but she doesn’t have proper pronoun usage mastered yet.  That’s ok.  She’ll learn.

At this rate she’ll be married at 12

Eirinn hit her terrible twos at about 15 months.  At that point she was moody and emotional and demanding and all together hard to deal with 75% of the time.  The other 25% of the time she was sweet and charming and cute; just enough so we didn’t sell her. 

This continued at a regular pace until a week or two ago.  Then, as normal toddler progression would have it, she jumped head first into that wonderfully un-terrible-twos stage known as the Three Year Old Questions and…More Questions Period.  Everything that comes out of her mouth is a question, but she hasn’t learned (or she chooses to forgo this half of the process) the ‘listening to the answer’ portion.  Instead she just asks either the same question again, or throws you for a loop and asks a completely unrelated question.

It goes something like this:

“Mommy, what doin’?”

“I’m ma…”

“What doin’?”

“Ma…”

“What doin’?”

I’M MAKING YOU A…

“Where Bossy?”

This is the part where my eyes roll back into their sockets, my brain begins a slow-leak out of my ears, and I collapse into a pile of rotting (and very confused) goo on the floor.  I mean, I would totally take a twenty minute long question and answer  question period over a twenty minute long temper tantrum (which has happened before) any day.  Hands down.  HOWEVER, they didn’t teach how to deal with this in Toddler Prep 101 and I have never really been known for my patience.  I’m not too bad, but when trying to field 15 questions in 15 seconds, I think anyone would explode just a teensy, tiny bit.

That’ll teach him

Eirinn got Tickle Me Elmo last year for Christmas.  The TMX version.  Have you seen this in action?  As a grown up, I think it’s pretty darn cool.  He laughs and shakes like the original, but he also throws himself to the ground, rolls around, slaps his hand on the floor, and is all-round hilarious.  Most people probably find him annoying, and admittedly after being “tickled” more than 3 times he can grate on my nerves, but I think he’s cute.

Eirinn has been afraid of him right from the start.  I can see how he would be a little overwhelming to someone less than 3 feet tall.  So, he’s never been played with all that much.  Until this weekend.

On her daddy-morning (we take turns sleeping in on the weekend – I highly recommend this become an immediate deal you make with your husband if you are a new mother), they rediscovered Elmo.  While still nervous of him, she cautiously observed as he giggled and vibrated his way through the playroom. 

When he was finished doing his ‘thing’, she got brave, crept up to him and, using proper football technique, hoofed him as far as she could.  That’ll teach him.

And, of course, that got a full 5 minutes of roaring laughter from Anonymous Daddy.  And because this got laughter, it’s all she wants to do now.  “Tickle” Elmo and send him flying.  She even took him to daycare so she could kick Elmo all day.

Hiatus is over, kids

I’ve been a horrible mommy-blogger.  It’s been almost a week since I last posted.  Several reasons for this, not the least of which is that I didn’t remember to.  Whoopsies.  When you go 27 point 5 years without a blog, it’s easy to forget that you’ve got one.  By the way, did you know that WordPress’s spell check doesn’t recognize “blog” or “blogger” as real words?  They suggest I use “bog”, “blag”, or “biog” instead.  Ironic, no?  Also not a word?  WordPress and Whoopsies.  Who knew?

Where was I?  Oh, yes.  My short term memory loss relating to my blogblag.  There are literally drillions of blags floating throughout the world wide interweb, so for me to complain about everything that goes into maintaining a blag would be laughable.  If drillions can do it, there’s no excuse as to why I can’t.  I’m reasonably intelligent, have a fairly creative mind, a daughter that says and does blag-worthy things everyday, and I have a free forum through which to convey such things. 

But indulge me for just a moment.  I’ll be brief.  Not only does this blag put pressure on Eirinn to perform circus-like feats of hilarity on a regular basis, I also have to remember to document such events, take pictures, Photoshop these pictures so no one laughs at my ridiculously amateur photography skills, compose a post with humour, drama, mystery, and an introduction, character development, plot, climax, and an elaborately satisfying conclusion, press publish, proofread my published work (I’m the only one who proofreads after publishing?  hmmm…), edit for errors, grammatical and otherwise, re-publish, and pass out from exhaustion.  Lately I’ve been skipping all steps but the last one.

I’m going to get better.  I promise.  I started this blag with the intention of keeping friends and family abreast of Eirinn’s daily follies.  I continued this blag with enthusiasm when more than just friends and family started reading because I am all about the attention.  Love it.  I am totally flattered when I see that I get 50-130 visits in a day.  I don’t even know 50-130 people!  So that is uber-rad.  Starting today, I’m going to post more regularly.  Like I did, say, a week ago.  With pictures.  I’ve got a post in mind and I’ve mentally documented it and have began the post composition process.  Mentally. 

So please stay tuned.

***

In the meantime, for your reading pleasure, I present to you a conversation between Mommy, who will be played by myself, and The Evil Schizophrenic Spawn of Some Dastardly Villian, who will be played by Tornado Eirinn. 

Monday, 7:55 am

Mommy is innocently packing herself a banana to take to work for a snack.  Schizo Spawn sees the banana and, despite her already consuming two separate breakfasts in the span of a half an hour, demands in a tone only heard by dogs that she also have a banana.  NOW.

Mommy tells Schizo that she can pack a banana to take to daycare as a snack, but that they have to get ready to go because they’re running late.

Bad.  Move.

Full blown tantrum, body-trashing, arms punch the air, tears, screams, and demands ensue.  Because they’re running so late, Mommy tries to dodge fists and leg-kicks while dressing Schizo in a hat, mitts, winter coat and boots.  More than once, Mommy gets head-butted square in the jaw. 

“Mommy!!!!  I cwying!!!”

“I know you’re crying.  Do you know why you’re crying?”

Pause.

Pause.

You could hear the little hamster running on his little wheel inside her head.

Squeak.  Squeak.  Pause.  Squeeeeek.

“I stop cwying.  I happy now.”

Oh…kay.

Happy birthday to me

It’s my birthday today.  I’m not 30, but I sure do feel like it.  At least.  Maybe even 35.  And that’s because Eirinn doesn’t like to sleep much anymore.  She’s decided that sleep is a bad habit to keep.  It’s probably even a sin in some religions.

Guess what she gave me this morning for my birthday gift?  Four temper tantrums within a half an hour.  Lucky me, huh?

Tantrum #1 – She wanted an Elmo diaper.  Psst – they are ALL Elmo diapers.  But she wanted an Elmo diaper.  No, not that one.  No, not that one.  Not that one.  Nope.  Nuh uhn.  ELMO DIAPER!  I still don’t know what she actually wanted.  She was clearly saying “Elmo Diaper”, but after offering her five (5) different diapers, all of which had a picture and/or pictures of Elmo splattered across the band and on the bum, I realized that maybe she didn’t actually want an Elmo Diaper and that “Elmo Diaper” is code for something that I have yet to learn.

Tantrum #2 – The soother.  She thought, in honour of my birthday, we could turn a blind eye to the “big girls only have a soother when they go to bed” rule.  Just for today.  But Mommy don’t play dat.

Tantrum #3 – She wanted me to read her Diego book.  Not to her; on my own.  Whaaaaaat?  Nevermind the breakfast I was feeding her, the breakfast I had yet to eat myself, the lunch I had to make, the snacks I had to assemble, the wrangling-fussy-toddler-into-some-semblance-of-winter-clothing.  I should take the time to read the Great American Novel that is Diego Saves Sammy the Sloth.  For the thousandth time.

After three tantrums between 7:20 and 7:45, I didn’t have the energy to challange her when she asked to wear her red dinosaur rain boots instead of her pink Pooh bear snow boots.  Fine.  No big deal.  It’s cold, but not frostbite weather.

Tantrum #4 occurred on the way to my mom’s house.  She tried to take her arm out of her coat sleeve while buckled into the car seat while we were in motion.  She got stuck.  And because I am 28 and not 35, I just laughed at her.  Because if what I get for my birthday from her is four temper tantrums, she deserves to be stuck all awkward-like for the two minute drive to daycare.  Ha.  Ha.

Vampires beware

Do you know what you shouldn’t feed a toddler?  Croutons.  Extra garlic croutons.  Unless you like that brand of stink.

Monday at lunch Eirinn spied the bag of croutons on the counter at my mom’s.  They were unopened because no one wanted to eat them.  No one, that is, except Eirinn.  Those croutons were all she wanted to eat for lunch.  And, being spoiled rotten, she got them and ate them all.

That was Monday and today is Wednesday and she still reeks.  The garlic spreads throughout her body and seeps out of her pores like sweat.  Stinky, pungent sweat.  Sweat that makes me want to heave my non-crouton lunch all over the floor.  Which is really sad because when Eirinn wants a kiss, I distract her with something else (Is that Dora at the door?) so I don’t have to bring my nose that close to her mouth.

This can’t last forever.  I’m sure it will dissipate soon.  Please, Lordy, make it dissipate soon.

This is one of those stories I’m going to tell when we meet her first boyfriend.


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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