Tag Archives: Toddlers

Why Parents Swear

…or, more appropriately perhaps, why children swear?

Language warning for the sensitive of eye and ear.

What they didn’t tell you in any of the parenting books is just how gross the first years of parenthood are. Snot. Poop. Or, as we used to call it in the time before children—shit. So many, many shit stories.

So here, to celebrate April Fools’ Day, is the one of the best two-in-one poop-n-swear stories from Flora’s first year. Cinder was two months short of three years.

Flora has the mother of all blow outs first thing in the morning. (I’ve always thought people exaggerated when they reported these kinds of things; now I know.) There was poop up her back to her hairline; grosser still, it went up her sleeves to her elbows.

“Aaaah!” I say, as I realize it left the diaper.

“Iiick!” I say, as I realize it’s soaked through the entire sleeper.

“Ugh!” I say as I realize it’s leaked through the sleeper onto the sheet and the mattress.

“What happened?” Cinder, sitting beside the bed, asks. I summarize. Cinder looks.

“Do you want to say fuck?” he asks after a moment.

“What? Why?” I stammer. My toddler—my baby—what’s coming out of his mouth?

“Daddy would say fuck,” he says seriously.

From Life’s Archives, March 31, 2005.

Seven years later: The first time Ender said fuck, I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. Mortified beyond belief because of where we were at the time, but definitely not surprised (that story’s here). We do learn something along the journey. Not always what we’re supposed to learn, or what we should learn, but we do learn something.

diaper pile

“He’s not evil, he’s a toddler.”

Yesterday, mid-day:

Cinder: Mooooooom! Ender’s got the handsoap and is smearing it everywhere!

Jane: Ummm…

Cinder: Well? Aren’t you going to do anything about it?

Jane: Ummm… well, probably not. It’s pretty much the least destructive thing he’s chosen to do today, so I’m just going to go with it.

Cinder: Oh. [Pause] Saving your energy for bedtime, huh?

Yup.

 

Earlier:

Jane: Oh, Ender, I love you. I love you.

Cinder: You’re saying that as if you’re trying really had to convince yourself.

Jane: No! I love him! Always!

Cinder: Even right now? When he’s being this evil?

Jane: Even right now. [Pause] He’s not being evil. He’s being a toddler.

Cinder: Was I ever this evil when I was a toddler?

Jane: [Pause] I know it might be hard to believe this, but if anything, you were worse.

Cinder: Really? Huh. And you didn’t freecycle me. [Pause] Because you loved me?

Yup.

Jane Austen

Caveman Redux

Good news: Ender does not have a younger sibling to torment right now. Bad news: He’s got Maggie the runt Boston Terrier. And his baby cousin. Good news: his baby cousin is almost in the same stage. That’s Karma. If you think we’re being cavalier about Ender’s current caveman stage… well, we’ve been here before. And Flora survived. Mostly intact.

Flora’s 10 months old in these vingettes, and Cinder’s a solid three-and-a-half. Oh, God. A full 12 more months of this? Where’s the secret chocolate stash? (By the way, have you seen this research report that chocoholics are thinner than abstainers? Ha!)

J: Cinder! You need to be more careful with Flora. What do big people do?
C [sullenly]: Big people take care of little people.
J: That’s right. Big people take care of little people. You’re big and strong, so you have to take care of Flora…
C: Well, I know that. But sometimes I just want to poke her!

C: [to Flora] I love this little bald creature who won’t get hurt.
J: She’s not bald. She has hair. Look, lots of hair!
C: I love saying I love this little bald creature who won’t get hurt, okay Mommy?

C: Mommy? Can I pinch this little bald creature so she wakes up?
J: I’d rather you didn’t. I like it when she naps in the car.
C: Well, I do too. But I really want to pinch her, too. Can I pinch Daddy instead?
J: Well…
S: No!
From Life’s Archives, November 30, 2005―The fun and the frustration…

Through the Chaos

Through the Chaos (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Just another day in the ‘hood…

Boston terrier b&W

)

“Flora! Get the naked baby; I’ll chase the @#$#$# dog!”
PS Note to self: Get screen door. With lock. Or at least a a #$%#%$# baby gate.


From the sitcom that is my life…

Strong start to the morning

Ender: Mama! I pee in potty!

Jane: Awesome! Way to go… um… if you peed in the potty, why is there a big puddle of pee on the floor?

E: I dump pee. Dump pee on floor. Hee hee hee.

J: Um… why?

E: Make footprints! (takes appropriate action)

Gets even better in the afternoon…

Flora: Moooooom! Ender’s biting the dog again! Should I make him stop?

Jane: Well–yeah! Get him off her! Why are you even asking me?

F: Well–cause if he’s biting Maggie, then he’s not biting me. [Pause.} Or you.

J: That does make sense. … No, for Chris’ sake, get him off her. Poor dog.

[five minutes later]

F: Mooom!

J: Is he biting the dog again?

F: No, he’s dragging me around the floor by my feet. I knew we should have just left him biting the dog.

Interlude for a telephone call…

On the telephone–the Vice President (Legal) of a Calgary investment banking outfit. Of course. At least it wasn’t the CEO.

Ender: Hello… Mommy? Talk with Mommy? … No talk with Mama. … I go have nursies. [Receiver slam!]

And wrapping up in the evening…

Jane (reading): “Holi is a joyous Indian holiday that comes at the end of winter. Holi is also known as the festival of colors. On this holiday, people run through the streets smearing strangers and friends with colored powder and douring each other with colored water. At the end of the day, everyone is decked out in all the colors of the rainbow.”

Flora: Oh, oh, oh, we could totally do that tomorrow to celebrate the Equinox. Can we, Mom? Can we?

J: Well, it would be very fun, I totally agree. But all our neighbours would pretty much hate us.

Austen: They already think we’re the crazy people, don’t they?

How two-year-olds clean the floor

Pro: My kitchen floor hasn’t been this smooth and shiny in, well, years, frankly.

Con: That gorgeous gleam? The remains of two dozen eggs from a biodynamic family farm.

The morale: Never, ever look in the fridge at four dozen eggs and ask yourself, “God, what am I going to do with all those eggs?” Because when you have a two-year-old agent of Chaos in the house–the Universe will provide. Oh, it will provide.

Love you, Ender. To pieces.

From the mouths of nurslings

From the mouths of Enders’ as they nurse:

Ender: Oh, mama, new one? New one?

Jane: What? Oh, yes, that’s a new bra.

Ender: Pretty new one. Thank you, mama.

Yes, baby, it’s all for you.

“Ender pee on the floor!”

Jane: Well, thanks for not peeing in my lap. I guess that’s something.
Ender: En-duh pee on floor.
J: Yeah. Where should Ender pee? Ender should pee in the toilet.
E: No, En-deh like pee on floor. Is fun.
J (pause): Fun? Why is it fun?
E: Make pee prints on floor. See?
… and before I make it to a rag, there is a trail of little pee foot prints racing down the hallway.
If you’ve ever wondered why our house smells funny… now you know.

“Floor Peas?”

The consequence of a two-year-old helping prepare dinner–a bowl full of frozen peas all over the floor. Siblings to the rescue… sort of.

Jane: Cinder, get Maggie out of here. Flora, help Ender get those peas back in the bowl.

Flora: Why are we putting them back in the bowl?

J: To eat them.

F: You’re going to make us eat floor peas?

J: They’re organic, sustainably grown floor peas, and I just washed the floor the other day. There’s nothing wrong with them.

F: Are you going to tell Daddy they’re floor peas?

Cinder: Daddy won’t mind–he ate those floor noodles, remember?

F: I don’t think he realized they were floor noodles at the time.

J: Guys, stop eating the floor peas, and put them in the bowl.

C: What’s the big deal? We’re just going to eat them out of the bowl after we put them in it.

J: Cause I want to sweep the floor after.

F: To remove the evidence?

J: No, to… you’d better not eat the ones that rolled too close to the garbage.

F: Do you think other mothers would make their children eat floor peas?

J: For God’s sake, I’m not making you eat floor peas, I’m asking you to pick them up!

C: I think the floor peas are delicious.

F: I still think you shouldn’t tell Daddy they’re floor peas.

J: Just put them in the freakin’ bowl…

Beast In Disguise

S: Guys, guys, come look at this, you have to see how cute Ender looks!
Austen & Flora (simultaneously as if they rehearsed it): He’s a beast in disguise! He’s a beast in disguise!

A Bear By Any Other Name

A Bear-Hunt Gone Wrong

The two-year-old howled, the truck went flying, the coffee went spilling, the mom did some swearing as she went for yet another towel. The Cinder turned his attention from Terraria (the video game obsession of the moment) and fixed a solemn gaze on me.

“You were asking for it, you know,” he said. “I mean, you did nickname him Bear. Bear? That’s what he is. A very, very good bear.”

The Bear bared his fangs, growled, and rushed at Cinder, headbutting him in the belly.

“You’re right,” I said. “We should have nicknamed him Fluffy.”

“Well, it could have been worse,” Cinder groaned, removing Ender’s head from his gut. “You could have called him Cthulhu.”

Free: Kitchen Reorganization Services

Help! I need to take Ender out so he can destroy someone else’s house for a while. If you would like your pantry re-organized, or have been looking for an opportunity to take everything off your bottom shelves so you could dust and re-organize them, please invite us over…

In Awe…

Right now, I am in total and absolute awe.

In awe of the extent of chaos and destruction a determined 15 month old can wreck on 250 sq ft of space in 5 minutes.

The destructo-baby’s asleep now and I must now grapple with the question pondered daily and hourly by every mother of a toddler: do I bother picking up the house to briefly enjoy the illusion of order for the x minutes left in his nap, or do I spend this time doing something that he won’t undo within 5 minutes of waking?

Living With a Biter

Flora: Ender, I am not a steak!

Loose Teeth, Loose Toddlers

Flora wants to announce that she has lost her first tooth, an event she has been eagerly awaiting ever since Austen lost his first tooth… more than three years ago. The tooth of course will be packaged for display in Flora’s Museum of Natural Mystery.

I would like to announce that Ender has officially transformed from a lump into a very competent crawler, climber and explorer. This means, among other things, that today,  $5 worth of organic raspberries mushed into the floor, blue marker happy faces on fridge (please god, don’t let it be Sharpies) = price of getting anything done in the kitchen with him under foot.