I used to be interesting

I don’t often talk about what the Precious is up to cause, dammit, my blog is about me! However, part of talking about him is my way of counting my blessings.  He makes me happy in such a simple way.  As far as he’s concerned, he’s the centre of the universe.  In a way, he’s right.  Friggin’ kid.

This week he’s displaying lovely oppositional behaviour.  Most times, he’s great at diaper change especially when he’s had a lovely poo, but increasingly, he wants to dictate WHEN he going to be changed.  I would prefer a compliant, communicative child, but apparently, he could be 45 and that still wouldn’t happen.    Seems he would rather try to buckle the straps of his diaper pad and anything interrupting that will cause him to squeal and tripod like he’s being tortured.  He’s also resisting changing clothes.  I’m not the most patient in the morning, so often I just let him run around pantless or shirtless for a while cause there is nothing more demoralizing to me than battling with him first thing in the morning.  My constitution is weak in the mornings.  I need coffee and food.  And good hair.

This I’ve discovered is par for the course as I try to stop him from throwing the dog food around, upending the Juno’s waterbowl, or whatever shenanigans he’s attempting  when I’m not looking at him.  He also loves playing peekaboo.  He’s still not talking.  Babbling, squealing, pointing, mewling, yes, but nothing on purpose.  It almost seems deliberate in his refusal to mimic me.  I ask him to say HE-LO and he just smiles at me and looks away.  He understands quite a bit. He can follow simple, short directions.   He will retrieve my slippers, his slippers, give things to Juno, pick things up (when he feels like it).  If I call his first and last name, he’ll stop and come over to me because of my tone.  He’s very interested in how things WORK.  He will copy my everyday   actions. Untwisting a bottle cap, turning on the vacuum, etc.  Yep, he’s managed to use my cell phone to send texts to our landline.  Don’t ask me how.  Obsessed with pushing buttons on phone and the remote.  And if the phone happens to ring, he hands it over to me.  He’ll pinch the phone between his head and shoulder like I do.

Letting him run around a bit with some baby puffs before attempting a proper breakfast seems to be working for us.  I save my toddler wrangling for when we need to go and walk the dog.  This involves a bit of a chase.  I’m not sure why (other than he finds it entertaining) but we do this every day.  I get his shoes and his coat and then wrangle him onto my lap. Brute force is usually needed.  Then into the stroller and his beloved buckles and then I get ready. I choose appropriate gear for outside.  Hikers or wellies?  Vest or raingear?   Keys, cell phone, poop bags, slingbag stashed underneath the stroller (oh a dirge for the fashionable purses of yesteryear), then collar the dog, harness and leash, make sure all the lights are off and try to get the giant stroller and the dog out the door and down the steps.  This whole thing can take 10-15 min depending on how well I’m organized.

DH often comments that I do talk about him a lot when we have friends over – as in, too much.  I have now given him the official word that he can now STOP reminding me if I talk too much about the kid.  The fact of the matter is that I just like to TALK to anyone who will listen.  I’m not sure he realizes that he spends a lot of time talking to me just about the kid.  Occasionally, he talks about his work, but I can’t often add anything to that, unless he’s stressed about something or someone.  My work of transcribing is well, dull.  And believe it or not, confidential.  Which is funny cause it’s pretty boring stuff to talk about anyway. I could talk about the shocking state of my eyebrows and hair, my breasts, or the amount of dog hair under the couch, but that would be complaining.  What I do all day…. involves the kid and the dog.  Period.   So…… phffft!……my next project is to find other stuff to talk about.

My friend recently celebrated her 40th birthday with a list of 40 things to do this year – I’m 150 so I should have a lot of things to list!


4 thoughts on “I used to be interesting

  1. While I fail at this miserably at times, I try to remember to pick my battles with MG. If I caved in to my desire to have her tow the line every single time, I’d be a mess. Like you, I prefer to leave the battles to bed time, or at least later in the day!

    I talk about MG all the time. She’s the centre of my universe and all the other stuff is just window dressing. If talking about her makes me boring, so be it. I’m happy with boring!

  2. Oh, I so hear you! I feel like my world has shrunk to the size of a pea. Well, a 27-ish pound pea that never stops moving…

    I find it easiest with C to try to see things through his eyes and use his interests to get what I need done, done. Sometimes it means bribing him with cheese or (more rarely) a cookie but sometimes it can be as successful as letting him hold a book or his hockey stick while we do a diaper change. It can make a big difference…sometimes. Other times, brute force and some deep breaths on my part are the only thing that work.

    Although I am a bad commenter, I hope you’ll agree to see me when I’m out there – I’m going to be out in Victoria next week for a couple weeks, and then on the mainland for the week after Easter. Hope we can find time to connect – I’d love to go for a walk with you and the Precious and Juno.


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