Parenting 2.0

Archive for the ‘Sense of Humour’ Category

I have an hour to myself. Yes, to M-Y-S-E-L-F!

I have a short list of things I need at the mall and it’s easier to grab my diaper bag than my purse, because it already has my wallet and keys in it.

You know you’re a mom when…

your diaper bag doubles as your purse.

A while back I wrote about Niko’s fridge escapades. (Interested? You can read about them here and here.)

And now, another one to add to the list…


This is what I heard yesterday:

Niko: Cool Dude! Cool Dude, Mama! Coooooooooool Duuuuuude!

And upon further investigation, what did I discover but this…

The irony of this self-declared title of coolness, being proclaimed from within the fridge was probably lost on the little guy. But maybe not. On second thought, maybe he’s a budding genius.

Yes! In true proud parent fashion – a budding genius I say! At least that’s what he looks like in these pictures, right?

The baby’s fed? Check!

The baby’s clean? Check!

The baby’s asleep? Check!

And what’s this I see? A 20 minute window of time where I don’t have anyone monopolizing me? A 20 minute window solely to myself? Is this possible? Is this really happening? What to do? What to do? Doesn’t take me long to figure out I’d love a bubble bath – extra bubbles please! When I think back on this day, I can’t recall what was happening in 20 minutes that left me with such a concise window, but a 20 minute time block was what I had, and I was going to use it maxin’ and relaxin’ with some bubbles and a book in the tub! Yah!

So I start running the water pretty hot, squeeze in ample amounts of bubbles and get myself in the tub. As the water fills higher and higher I sink into full relaxation mode, letting the worries and stresses of the day melt away. I may have even closed my eyes for a minute before I cracked open my book club’s pick: Left Neglected. So the tub’s almost full, when I hear little footsteps raucously approaching, followed by a happy toddler bursting into the bathroom huge grin and all. Huger grin now that he sees the massive mountains of bubbles that are floating in the water. (This is why bathrooms have locks right? Mental note to self: must remember to lock the door.)

So I’m about 4 or 5 minutes into relaxation mode, and now have toddler speak and giggles as a constant soundtrack. Not that I minded really, but when you’ve got plans for some “me time” this isn’t usually what’s on the menu. Despite my little visitor I remained focused and tried to convince myself that I could still follow through with my original plan for relaxation. So I just let Niko go about his business, which now included sticking his hands in the bubbles, walking back to the door, all the while gleefully saying “Niko painting the entire door!”. This round trip, from bubbles to door with the phrase “Niko painting the entire door!” on repeat, continued for what seemed to be about 5 minutes. At this point, reading was no longer an option due to the painting distraction, but putting a stop to his behaviour would have just carved out too much of my “me time”, so I chose to pretty much ignore his actions. Allowing him to “paint the entire door” with bubbles, while I continued to focus on relaxing, sans book.

After a few minutes, Borys poked his head in – now this is what I call relaxing at full tilt! Just me and my two guys hanging out in the bathroom. He wondered what was going on, and asked me some questions about who knows what, but pressing ones I am sure… Anyway, it was at this point that little Stella started to stir and her grumblings like an alarm clock halted my activities and beckoned me to her. My 20 minutes were up. It was out of the tub, and back to the baby, with a brand new “coat of paint” on the bathroom door.

And the lesson here? Because there’s always one, right?

Must remember to lock the bathroom door!

Niko loves his little sis. Within moments of first meeting her, he was smiling broadly and hugging her on my hospital bed, and a few minutes later, doting on her in one of the chairs. He seems so proud and happy to have her around (phewf…!). And I am so happy to see the two of them together.

The first night we brought her home, was reminiscent of that famous movie scene from Streetcar Named Desire, where Marlon Brando bellows “Stella!” up the stairs. And here’s the reason why…

Niko had managed to stay up past his bedtime, which is essentially a no-fail recipe for tears and exaggerated displays of emotion. As I sat on the couch with baby Stella and he was hauled off up the stairs, despite his bouts of adamant protest, he reached for the railing and yelled “Stelllll-aaa!!!” through his tears. “Niko hold STELLLLLLLL-AAA!”…”Stellllll-aaa!”

Both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time.

Ah well, there will be plenty of time for displaying his affections in the days weeks years to come lifetime ahead.

But for that moment, it was off to bed!

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Pregnancy is all about fashion, right? I mean most pregnant women are all aglow with delight and looking their best. Me? Yes, I definitely match that description. And one of my favourite fashion trends to follow? Sagging, modeled by none other than teen idol sensation Justin Bieber. I mean who better to model my pregnancy self after than the ever fashionable pop star? Can’t go wrong with a look like that! And the look I am writing of here? The one where your pants hang low, so low that your underwear hang out. Every pregnant woman’s dream, really. And here I am making this dream a reality. What pleasure. What joy. What delight I get from wearing my pants so low that they no longer cover me properly. Success! It feels great.

But seriously, the Biebster has the help of that one beloved accessory that I at nine months pregnant am no longer privy to. He can keep those pants up, tightly cinched with that lovely device we call a belt. But us pregnant women? Is there even such thing as a maternity belt? I don’t think so. So here I am, left desperately trying to pull off this ever popular look, sans belt. And the result? Pants that continually fall down. Pants that continually need to be hoisted up by yours truly, whether I am in the grocery store or at the dentist. Pants that I would much prefer to stay put, but just keep following their dreams of becoming “saggers”. Ah well. Such is life. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be back on track with the norm of society, able to wear a belt and keep my pants up like the respectable woman I am. And at last, I will be able to put this Bieber fashion fad behind me.

Please Note #1: I am a secret Bieber fan.

 Please Note #2: In my model pic below, the belt loops are halfway down my butt. So, I am almost pulling off a full Bieber, while the belly band that sits above my waistline is actually showing some skin.

If these pants were intact as intended that belly band would be covering the full expanse of my belly, and not be lurking below my belly button. (Just to give you an idea of how much they have actually fallen…)

When Niko was just a wee babe, I made up a song and sang it to him daily. The words were something along the lines of “My sweet little angel boy and then basically just repeated over and over again to a particular tune that I cannot begin to describe in words. Then he grew up a little and that little ditty made it’s way to the back burner.

This morning as we were getting ready for daycare, Niko was in one of those delightful moods where nothing pleased him. Mind you, he is not feeling 100% (coughing, etc.), but still this mood isn’t the easiest to deal with. Now while I try to stay away from sarcasm, especially directed toward my dear angel boy, at times humour acts as my parental crutch and helps me cope in the moment.

So I’m bundling him up to go out the door. And even though there’s no snow the temperature is in the negatives, yet Niko is insisting he wears his sandals, while I am insisting on his winter boots. A no-win here. So after a full morning of such antics (not all sandal related, but on the same plane of ridiculousness) I look at Borys and say:

“Hmm…Maybe we should have topped the tree with this little darling the other day“! 

Borys: But doesn’t coal go in the stocking?

Hahahaha. Thank goodness for comic relief – even if it was at the expense of our little man. He didn’t seem to notice.

And no Niko, you are NOT wearing your sandals today!

When all’s quiet in the kitchen it’s time for some parental investigation. Afterall, quiet in toddler terms is only a precursor to bedlam, right?

And all I see upon my arrival…

Yes! Those are toddler toes peeking out from under an open fridge door. Not a good sign…

PS – Niko was just in there quietly giggling to himself. Looks like I averted disaster in the nick of time!

Niko’s imagination is developing daily. Although, I suppose it’s always been developing, but now he’s gained the ability to communicate his ideas to us, and it’s so funny and cute to see. Mind you, I could be biased seeing as he’s my little guy. But on second thought, no, he really probably is the world’s universe’s most funniest and creative little dude.

The following pictures and post idea, courtesy of Daddy.

Each morning Niko sees his parents with their go-to beverage of choice – COFFEE! And not just one mugful, but at least two, maybe three.

The other day, he was playing around in the living room when he walked up to Daddy with a mugful of cars.

Niko: Daddy, Niko drinkin’ the coffee cars. Coffee. Coffee cars. Hahahaha.

Ah…the mind of a two year old!

Mama’s crafty.

Daddy’s artistic.

So can we blame Niko for embracing his creativity? No.

Can we be ticked off that his pursuits pulled him to colour on our walls? Absolutely.

But where did he get the red crayon from? At least that’s what it looked like had been used on our walls. It wasn’t until I saw him with his wooden block in hand and poised by the wall, that I made the connection. Don’t get me wrong, I love wooden toys! But when they double as crayons on freshly painted walls – walls that we repainted three times, before I was happy with the colour (Love you Borys!), my adoration wains.

The only solution I found to simultaneously encourage little Niko’s creativity, and put an end to his wall-canvas antics, was to buy him his own set of real markers and crayons, use a plastic sheet to cover the table, supply lots of blank paper and let him have at ‘er. Turns out he loves to colour and create and has even been so inclined to decorate a few home-made birthday cards for his pals.

I tried to show him that colouring on the walls on the walls was not acceptable. I held up the wooden culprit and feigned doing it myself, and then told him that’s not where we colour. We colour on paper. And it seems to have done the trick. Well that and the fact that all 24 of those coloured blocks are now out of reach and only used under direct supervision.

So for now, we live with his Picasso-like work. It greets me every time I sit down at our dinner table, and even now as I type this entry I can see the writing on the wall, literally. But I have to say, Niko does have a sense of humour about it, even though I can tell he knows he’s wrong to have done it. The other day, and even a few times after that I heard him saying “Colour Mama. Colour”. and when I escaped the kitchen to see his latest escapades, he was standing at his mural, holding up one of those tricky block/crayons, poised and ready to go. But he had a smile one his face and a twinkle in his eye, clearly indicating he knew the error in his way, and yet getting ready to make mayhem despite it. What a kid.

I figured it best to respond by simply asking him if he wanted to colour, reminding him that we don’t colour on walls, and offering him the plastic sheet, his crayons and markers, and some paper. He gladly accepted and away he went. After that I scoured the house in an attempt to collect any additional renegade blocks. Mission accomplished. I think.

On the wall…

On the paper…

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Borys was surprised to overhear the following conversation between Niko and me when he got home from work the other day.

Niko: Mama Bi-dtch. You bi-dtch! Bi-dtch mama. You bi-dtch.

Borys: What’s going on down there?

Niko and I were in the basement playroom.

Me: We’re just playing with Niko’s cars and blocks.

Borys: But what’s Niko saying?

Me: He wants me to build a bridge.

Borys: Oh, well it sounds like he’s saying something else.

Me (finally cluing in): Hahahhahaa. Niko what do you want Mama to do?

Niko: Bi-dtch Mama. You bi-dtch.

Seems his toddler-speak only allows for two or three word sentences. And in this case, the missing “build a” between the “you” and the “bridge” made for an interesting play on words. Anyway, seeing as he’s got a love-on for bridges these days we only thought it was fair to forewarn his daycare provider of his newfound, or maybe better described as lack of, vocabulary skills, just in case he decided he wanted a bridge at daycare.

We could just see him: “Sherri bi-dtch. You bi-dtch!” and the ensuing look of puzzlement and concern on her face. Not to mentions the questions to follow once we picked him up…

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