Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Making friends at the park

Random dad on the playground with a thick Russian (?) accent: "Oooo vat are you feeding your boy? Is dat macaroni and sheesse? He likes it, no?"

Baby boy: "numnumnumnum"

Me: (proudly) "I made it myself! He loves it! Its one of the only things I can get him to eat! (insert self-deprecating-you know-how-it-is laughter)" I glance around and notce now that Russian dad has twin boys about 2.5 years old. They are running around behind us with mom trying to wrangle them on her own and giving her usband the stink eye while he talks to me. "hi!" I wave.

Russian Twin: "Hi. Me want! !!!!! !!! " (Pointing to baby boy's food).

I need to mention that eating is a big struggle for baby boy. He is on again/off again and YES still nursing (as everyone likes to put the emphasis on STILL. Stuff it I say). I try to offer him a variety of things, but man its hard. And now its especially hard having to pack a lunch for both of us every weekday. He is just picky...or maybe I have high expectations-I mean...who am I to know how much he is really hungry when I am shovelling food into his mouth everytime I can distract him enough. Maybe he really isn't. Its had not to feel pressure to feed him as we are so programmed into believing that you need food at these regular mealtimes. Anyway, I digress. Its even more than him being picky. I think he likes to ACT picky. He likes watching my tortured face. He likes throwing food on the floor. Its just who he is. If he did something easily and without fighting I'd think he was ill. So yes, eating. If he likes macaroni and will eat it...I'm willing to cook it every day :)

Russian dad: "oh no Michael. Too salty. To salty!".

Me: (a little flabbergasted, a little insulted-as if I really wanted to share my son's food with this random kid shouting at me) "Oh no...see, I made it myself. I used whole milk and real unsalted butter and cheddar! Its just cheese. I mean, there's nothing wrong with cheese, right?" (I'm starting to sound a little defensive now...is my mac n' cheese unhealthy?)

At this point twins mom gives major stink eye to Russian dad signalling that it is time to pack them into the stroller-she is done with playground time. So I watch out of the corner of my eye as I continue to shovel MnC into baby boy, who readily gobbles :) As mom stuffs one toddler into the double stroller they both start to scream. They are wailing, kicking, and arching their backs. You know, as toddlers do. Nothing out of the ordinary...at least not for me its a daily occurence with my baby boy. But I love watching how other parents deal with it. Its obvious the boys do not want to leave the playground and I'm pretty sure the one twin wants some Mac and cheese still. But what transpires between mom and dad is funny to me. Like haha. Mom is geting really steamed. And then Russian Dad goes:

"Ok, ok, one more minute ok?!? Da. Yes, one more minute for playing! YAY!"

Twins mom: "WHAT!?!?!?! OH no. There you go again. You tell them something and then give in right away. Either we are oing or we are not! STOP BEING SO WISHY-WASHY!"

Ok...Im trying to stifle my laugter here now. For a couple of reasons. I don't disagree with mom. Most of the time though I don't put on a facade in public, but I do try to refrain from yelling at my husband at the playground. (Usually the stink eye is enough with him ;). But this exchange is just starting to crack me up. I wonder if Russian dad, who's English is wishy-washy, even understands the term? And I guess part of me is liking that he is being called out afterall, who is he to judge what I'm feeding my son? I hate getting people's opinions like that. But then...then. Then comes the piece de resistance.

Russian dad: "Ok,ok...boys its time to go, like your muther says". And with this he grabs up the boy and tries again to stuff his rigid little body into the stroller belt. The kid starts lashing out at dad. The mom is huffing and puffing. And then the dad starts hissing: (Or was it whispering so I wouldn't hear?)

"Ok,ok...chocolat! chocolat (sounds like shockohlatte)! I give you chocolat if you get in stroller!" And he whips out a mars bar.

So when it comes to snacks my son prefers salty. And I guess his prefer sweet. But you didn;t see me wagging my finger at him.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

"If you need me I'll be in my trailer"

So pre-baby I must say that I avoided the Walmart for the social and cash-sucking plague that is is. But post-baby I see the benefit of the big box store: diapers really are cheaper there. So is baby clothes. So are the hundreds of odds and ends that you need with baby. So I've learned to be a closet embracer of the Walmart. Why buy 2 rolls of toilet paper when you can get 36 for cheaper?

The other night there was some need I had for the walmart. Don't remember exactly what it was. But at one point I looked around, looked at my self, and realized I had no need to feel embarassed about shopping there. Indeed, I was no better or worse than anyone else rambling through the aisles. Who was I kidding? Tim Horton's in hand, I pushed my cart with baby boy (not strapped in to the broken front part) reaching into the back of the cart and eating cookies out of the bag. His shirt front glistening wet from the juice I served im from the bottle with a straw. Do we even need to mention the boogers in his nose and the fact that he wasn't wearing his sneakers? Oh yeah, and he was screaming. A lot. Whenever there wasn't a cookie in his trap. And arching and bucking away from me every time I tried to force him back down into the seat. I was THAT lady. But yet, I blissfully strolled through all of the aisles, loading up with mega packs of diapers and detergent, etc. Oh yeah, and random toys which I had no intention of purchasing, but which kept baby boy and his globby-cookie hands occupied for minutes at a time. I abandoned them, and all other thinsg I decided against as I strolled in secluded aisles here and there when no one was looking. Once we finally got through the checkout, baby boy really wanted out of the seat so I plunked him into the big part of the cart with all of the purchases. He promptly grabbed my somewhat empty timmy's cup and started draining it of any drips/dregs of coffee left. "Awww how cute!" the cashier exclaimed. At this baby boy screamed again.

Out in the parking lot, manoeuvering the cart holding my (not-safely strapped in) baby through traffic I made it to my car and realized the reason he had been screaming on and off: his diaper. Oh holy lord!!!!!!!!!! How had I not noticed? So I flipped open th hatchback, laid him out and changed the poop in the parking lot. I think the only thing missing from the whole ordeal was me sporting a ready-to-burst baby belly poking out from under a beer t-shirt.

Today I found myself back at the Wallymart...texting in the bathroom.

Once, a while ago, my uncle bought me "Trailer Park Trash Soap"-one of those cheeky joke gifts. It was in reference to how my in-laws treated me and we all had a good laugh. Now I wonder I am perpetuating what other people expect of me? Or, if they could see something I couldn't? Either way, I got a great deal on a supervalue pack of teepee :)

I'm Baaaa-aaaack

Wow. Its been two months. I'm still alive. Still snarky. I have noticed however that my rant-i-ness level is directly tied to public transit and well, being in public. Since returning to work I find myself less active, less inclined to go out...more often than not I'm collapsing on the couch by 8pm, exhausted. Even too tired to blog.

I've been keeping a mental list though of some things that were blog worthy. More to come!