Words

Callum is at that stage where his vocabulary and speech have exploded, to the point where you might not even need me to translate for almost 70% of what he’s talking about. Although you may still need me to give you a bit of a reference as to why he?s talking about, say, a horse he rode.

It is crazy fun, and also crazy exhausting. He now talks non-stop at home. NON-STOP. My day is all about the minute details of Callum’s life.

I baking muffins, mama. Baking muffins. You want a muffin mama? I baking! No, Claire, Callum baking. Mixing mama. Mix? Mama? Mixing now, mommy, mommy? Callum go outside, Mama? Outside! I wanna go outside!

On and on it goes as he moves through his day, and everything is repeated several thousand times. If you say a word that is new to him, he will roll that new word around in his mouth until he thinks he?s got it.
Yet, there are numerous times throughout the day where the kid just warms the stone that is my heart. The other morning as he was getting out of bed he did his usual routine of picking up the blankets and handing them to me, picking up Elmo, Cookie Monster, and possibly Crab and Monkey George (I can’t remember as both Crab and Monkey George fall in and out of favour), all the while verbalizing the exchange. Then he just stops for a moment. I said ?Whatcha doin?? and he matter-a-factly replies ?I thinking, Mama. Thinking.?
But of course!

After his nap yesterday he hung out in his room for a while before heading down stairs and when I asked him what he was doing, he told me ?I reading Mama?. Oh, I see.
I started this little routine at dinner where I get Callum to tell Papa what he did today. I read somewhere this is good for kids and it seemed reasonable, you sit down at dinner and converse, right? It was sold like a great way for kids to start remembering and organizing thoughts. What the article failed to mention is that kids latch onto a routine like dogs do and now Callum thinks that dinner is all about rehashing Callum?s life, which he will gladly do being Callum-focused at the moment. If Steve so much as turns to Claire and says ?and what did YOU do today?, Callum is all put out, because he certainly hasn?t stopped talking about his day yet. It is ridiculously cute, and I?m sure eventually he?ll realize that there is some give and take to conversing? at least, I sure hope so.

The only time he stops talking is if we go somewhere, although he talks the entire trip to the destination, and home again, but while we are at the destination he may or may not talk so most people do not believe me when I say he never stops talking at home.

Up until this point in his young, little life, he was very much Steve?s son. A little bit of Amber is finally peeking through.

Parenting Critics

I had an interesting trip to Home Depot today. I went in looking for painters canvas, and came out with a compost bin. Had I know that buying a compost bin would have put my parenting skills into question I would have left the thing there.
The bin, in the box, wouldn’t fit under the cart. Callum was sitting in the main part of the cart, so I took him out, put the box in and then asked if he wanted to walk or ride. He opted to ride, next to the box.
I wander to the til and am confronted by a Home Depot employee giving me shit for letting Callum stand in the cart and telling him to sit down. I’m at the stupid self-serve thing (why, oh why, do they force this on us?) trying to figure out how to scan said box and am in no mood for a lecture. Besides, the kid CAN’T sit, there’s no room due to said box. Callum is being incredibly good, just standing there, chatting, doing his thing. I say to the home depot that Callum obviously can’t sit, but he keeps beaking off at me, so I ignore him.
Then a Home Depot cashier comes to help and I ask her for hand-held scanner, which she assures me she has, then she starts moving the box. I ask why, and apparently she is going to move it under the cart. Huge sigh on my part, and I let her know that it doesn’t fit, I already tried that. More drama about Callum (who is STILL, patiently standing there, doing as he is told, and watching the action).
Finally she just scans my order and off to the car we go. Claire is pretty upset by this point because during the til fiasco she couldn’t see me behind the box and we’re going through a phase. So I ask Callum if he’s cool or if he wants to get in the car first. He says “No, Claire first”.
Of course, some random passerby is now concerned that Callum is going to suddenly jump out of the cart and break open his skull so she starts talking to Callum. Whatever, I buckle Claire in and while I’m buckling random stranger asks Callum if he wants out of the cart, and then TAKES HIM OUT OF THE CART. Some strange, albeit kind, woman thought it was ok to pick up my son.
Now, say what you will about kids standing in the main part of the shopping cart but let me first say this: I know my own child. Yes, kids do fall head first out of those carts, and yes, so could Callum. And let me just say that if that day comes, I will eat my words, but right now, at this stage in his life, Callum isn’t that kid. He isn’t a climber, he isn’t a kid who would be fooling around and cause the cart to topple. He is, in fact, THE MOST CAUTIOUS KID I KNOW. I wasn’t being non-chalent and careless, I knew damn well he was safe. In fact, more safe in the cart than me trying to keep tabs on him in a parking lot. And certainly safe enough that random stranger need not pick him up.
I’m telling this tale to Steve and he says “you’re not going to get sympathy from me, I’m all about safety first”. Yet again someone else is going to do it better. I point this out to Steve, and inquire where exactly would Callum be if not in the cart? Running around a parking lot that’s where. In a very busy store with a lot of strangers who could knock him over, or run into him with a cart, or if you’re a fear mongerer, abduct him. The chances of him falling out of the cart? Pretty flippin’ slim, especially considering I’m assessing the situation (if he started to act out, I would have taken him out of the cart, obviously) and like I’ve already mentioned, I KNOW MY OWN CHILD.
Then it’s “well, you should leave the big purchases for the weekend”. Right, so I’m going to not buy water for our water cooler until the weekend? I’m not ever going to buy, say, A LOT of cereal? The list of things I do without Steve is huge, I don’t think he even recognizes it, and let me tell you, he would NOT be all that keen to suddenly doing it all on the weekend because god forbid, Callum be forced to sit in the main part of a shopping cart.
So, the next time you think you can parent better than the parent? Tell yourself to fuck off. I’m serious. You probably can’t parent their child better (unless, say, they’re obviously drunk, and in that case, you probably could)

Gripe

I just went through and did the general overview of my taxes. I am in one seriously pissy mood now, which is sad considering the gloriousness of the day. Why don’t we do our taxes in a depressing month, like January, instead of April? You’re inside feeling all gloomy in January anyway, might as well write a cheque out to the government while you’re sitting there.
I do not have the head for taxes. I do not understand why it has to be so bloody confusing. I don’t want to hear how you don’t find it confusing at all. Yes, you are smarter. Yes, I am dumb.
I probably knit better than you do, though.
My taxes are, in theory, not that hard. That is what everyone tells me. What everyone doesn’t realize is that I’m an airhead, and airheads aren’t known for being especially organized.
That means I have no fucking clue what I paid in property taxes last year because I can’t find the receipt (yet I have filed away the receipt for 2006 and 2007 in the appropriate folder). In order to claim that expense will involve tearing apart my entire house. I can’t imagine it’ll make a big dent in what I owe.
I have no fucking clue what my professional dues were because I can only find one receipt, the other is just a page with no number on it. I can figure it out by going through old M/C bills because you know, that’ll be fun.
On and on it goes. It takes me so much time and energy to get it all together, more than it does to actually do the taxes.
And for some reason, I do Steve’s. Mostly because it annoys me that he procrastinates, especially since we usually have to pay and that means interest payments and paying the government interest? yeah, not going to happen.
The good news, even without putting in all my deductions, or Steve’s deductions, I have enough money on hand to pay the taxes, and will probably have a bit left-over to buy a couple of bottles of wine. The bad news is, we have pay taxes.
I’m really looking forward to that glass of wine.
Maybe I’ll go sit on the deck and have a glass right now to dull the irritance.

Random Nothingness

I?m peacefully washing the dishes last night when I hear a strange squeal from my living room. As I go to investigate, thinking my eldest cat, Entropy, is just throwing up again (something she does everyday, it keeps her thin), I notice THERE IS A BIRD IN MY LIVING ROOM, being tortured by my cat. I screamed like the girl that I am, chased Entropy away, and ran outside to get Steve. There was no ?I am Woman. Here me Roar.? I also suspect Entropy probably just resumed said torture when I fled the scene. Overall, I failed in the handling of the situation.
Sadly, the little Towhee didn?t survive, I suspect he either died of shock or the murderous little beast of a cat broke his sweet little neck. That made for a very sad ending to an otherwise delightful day.
I will admit to being mildly impressed that my 14-year old cat managed to catch a bird, and a Towhee at that, they?re very quick.

***
To celebrate Earth Day, Callum and I made peanut-butter pinecone bird feeders in our craft class today. It isn?t really supposed to be a craft class, but that is what it has turned into and I would totally be lying if I said that bothered me. A craft class? Ok! Where do I sign up?!
This was a great thing to do with him, as he made two feeders, hung one in Grandma?s yard for those birds and another in our yard with his Papa. So simple – just find a pinecone, slather it in peanut butter (go nuts!) and then roll it in birdseed. Tie a string to the top of it, and you have yourself a sweet little bird feeder. To attract even more birds for Entropy to torture and kill.
***
We are seriously broke. I can not explain this, since I see no reason why we should be so stupidly broke. This means we?re reeling in the spending and that is sad for me. I enjoyed those few months of foot-loose, fancy-free spending. I blame the ridiculously high cost of groceries. When did THAT happen? I paid $60 for some fruit and veggies, 2 chicken breasts and a stupidly small bag of shrimp today. SIXTY DOLLARS.
***
I am once again full of the germs. Steve refuses to come within a 5 foot radius of me as he is in heavy training for his ½ marathon on May 2nd and getting sick on running day would be a total bummer.

Another post heavy on the craft pictures. I will force you to LOVE THE CRAFTS.

I figured that we’d be over-run with chocolate considering Claire’s birthday was the start of the Easter Weekend, and really, how much candy do we need? So instead I thought I’d make a completely home-made easter basket. I think I was compensating for the distinct lack of Valentine crafting that happened this year. Of course, this ” entirely home-made” deal didn’t really happen because I am weak, but it did turn out pretty cute even with the occassional impulse Michaels buy (does anyone else get the feeling that I spend far too much time shopping at Michaels?).
So, voila, my formula-tin turned Easter Basket!

Steve and I decorated 4 formula tins for our kids and The Cousins. They were decorated entirely from paper and chipboard from my stash so no shopping was had in the making of the basket. Yes, Steve really did help! For like, an hour. He was either seriously bored, or hoping for some sex.
It was chalk full of crafty goodies, both handmade and store bought. Home-made play dough in the easter eggs, a rolling pin, a balsa wood puzzle and markers to color it, a hand-made wand, a hand-made notebook, the little clothes pin bunnies, a home-made chocolate birdsnest with eggs, a little pencil with a wooden creature on top, and the best part – a little photo album of our immediate family.

My little wand was a last-minute add on, having been inspired by the wands at Dream Child Studios (which are gorgeous). I couldn’t find a perfect wooden ring, so I made do with a package of balsa wood marker stakes that I drilled holes into. Worked like a charm!

The little notebook was the start of my thrifted/recycled Easter idea that didn’t really pan out, although the kids seem to enjoy the notebooks. The covers were made from recycled cardboard, paper I had on hand, and of course (thrifted) googly eyes because what kid doesn’t like a googly eye? Steve bought me a Xyron Creative Station for Christmas, so I attempeted to laminate the covers and failed miserably but the kids didn’t care. The inside pages are from a one-a-day calendar that I stupidly bought Steve for Christmas and now feel tremendous guilt. Then I just used embroidery floss to put it all together.

The nest was an idea from Angry Chicken, and since I was feeling guilty about the distinct lack of chocolate I decided that if I made the chocolate treat myself it would some how negate the sugar effect. So they each got a little nest and eggs (of course, I promptly took these away from my own kids because whoa, they’re heavy on the sweet and I didn’t want to deal with THAT aftermath).

But my favorite part was the mini family album. Each book has a page dedicated to an immediate family member, and a write up of their favorite things. I wanted to do this so that my kids would get to know their out-of-town family. I am so happy with the album and the kids LOVE them. Callum “reads” his everyday, and I’m told his older cousin, J, does too.

In order to get the baskets, the kids had to go out and find salt dough easter eggs that were hanging in the trees. Callum and I made the easter eggs, then The Cousins, Callum, and I decorated them.

There were only 30 eggs so it took 5.1 seconds for the kids to find them all but we had fun running through the little patch of woods at the front of the house. Then it took some quick thinking to convince the kids to give up the salt dough eggs – I guess they figured they were worth keeping? Although what the hell they were going to do with them was a mystery.

All in all, a grand easter was had by all that are less than 5 feet tall. For those of us who are tall, sleeping in would have been grand. Especially considering the teething/crankiness situation.

Lest you think I’m some sort of anti-consumerist nazi, or incredibly thrifty, I’m not. I’m probably the world’s biggest sucker, actually. Both kids raked in the goods with a new outfit, marionette puppet, oil pastels, a musical clapper, and a water paint kit. And that was just from us. Then came the Easter goods from the Grandmas… Seriously, when did Easter become Christmas?! I think I basically have SUCKER tattooed on my forehead.