kids inc

Flatout the best bear ever

May 22, 2009

Buying soft toys for Tru is like trying to strike the lottery, which is why I don’t do it. He’s extremely picky when it comes to soft toys and there is a club started for all the stuffed animals he has since banished to the far corner of his cot. Whenever he gets a new toy, he examines it thoroughly for a few minutes and gives it a look of disdain before tossing it away like its infested with lice.

To date, no soft toy has managed to make it into his good books, and he insists on carrying this huge blankie everywhere he goes (which I wanted to cut up into little pieces, but decided against in case he hates it and I’d have to sew it back together like some mutilated patchwork quilt). To save myself the hassle of lugging it around, I’ve tried to replacing it with many alternatives, only to have them all meet with the same fate.

As an early birthday present, my sis got him the coolest bear ever, a Flatout Bear, which is get this, made from 100% sheep skin. The husband was all up in arms against the idea. “Some poor sheep got killed to make a bear?” I do see the irony, but SHEEP DON’T HAVE TO DIE FOR THEIR FUR. Or skin. Or wool. Or whatever else you call it. They have to suffer the humiliation of prancing around au naturel for a while, but it sure ain’t dying.

So this bear which was originally a sheep, is the latest accessory carried by all the celebrity tots. There’s Matt Damon, Hugh Jackman (Wolverine has got a soft side after all), Jennifer Garner and Nicole Ritchie’s kids all seen with the FOB.

And aunts are supposed to splurge on ridiculously frivolous presents anyway, so Tru received his FOB yesterday. (My God, it’s SOFT!) I’m not kidding, it’s the softest bear I’ve ever touched and without the artificial synthetic feel. I thought of stealing it from him and rubbing it against my face (which i totally did when no one was looking).

It seems to have made it to top of his stuffed toys list, and he’s been carrying it around ever since. It still hasn’t usurped the Blankie’s stranglehold throne, but it’s getting close. By the time his birthday comes around, it should become top dog / bear.

Unless of course, I decide to keep it for myself instead.

p.s. To the makers of FOB: I should be paid for this, so if you’re reading this and decide to reward my efforts, I’d like one in each of the colors. Or a life-sized one would be nice.

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pregnancy

Pain, pain, go away

May 20, 2009

With 8 weeks to go, all I can think about now is giving birth. I’m not looking forward to the birthing process per se, seeing that I’m terrified of needles and I’m averse to any sort of pain whatsoever. I have the pain threshold of a 3-year-old child, and the slightest bit of pain sends me hyperventilating.

I’ve got very vivid memories of Tru’s delivery after the anesthesia wore off and I was screaming the hospital down for morphine. Totally unglam on retrospect, but pain turns me into a raging maniac.

Suffice to say, I’m dreading the labor and delivery, but the final weeks of pregnancy is like being in Siberia. It sucks. There’s nothing I can do except twiddle my thumbs and wait for water to trickle down my legs (not pee, ok). I can’t remember what it feels like to run and skip without a care in the world. Just the other day, I thought I was going to pass out after 5 minutes of brisk walking, and I had to sit down for the next 30 minutes to recuperate.

There’s also a new ailment which didn’t show up during my first pregnancy. Recently, my crotch feels like there’s an elephant sitting on it from the inside, and any slight movement sends a wave of numbing pain (akin to a bruise) into the joints. Evidently, it’s put quite a damper on the romance and passion this time around.

On top of it all, I’ve been having unexplainable throbbing pains on various parts of my body. The husband seems to think its hilarious, but there’s really nothing funny about it when I’m on the receiving end of some ancient voodoo curses. I remember this scene in one of the Indiana Jones’ flicks where some tribal witches were performing a curse on a voodoo doll by stabbing it, and the pain would somehow be felt on the real guy. It freaked me out then and still haunts me till this day. I have also since stopped watching Indiana Jones. It’s evil.

voodoo-dolls-wallpaper

seriously, it hurts. Stop it!

A couple of days ago, the pain started in my hands, like someone was stabbing my wrist every 10 minutes. After searching the net for possible explanations, the best advice was to leave it alone and lo and behold, it just went away the next day all by itself.

Now it’s moved to my left ear and it’s getting unbearable. It’s so bad that I can’t even swallow or think without wincing in pain. Unless some insect crawled into my ear and died there, I’m pretty sure it’s caused by some venomous Mother, Inc haters.

Whoever you are, I’ll hunt you down and may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits.

Ok, seriously, please make it stop. I’ll do whatever you say.

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kids inc

La Fête de Le Petit Prince (en Anglais – Truett’s 1st birthday party)

May 18, 2009

The first kid’s first birthday is usually a massive affair accompanied by all the usual pomp and circumstance. The kid probably doesn’t have the faintest idea what the hullabaloo is all about, but for the parents, it’s almost like a rite of passage to signify the fact that we’ve made it past the first year.

With Tru’s birthday just around the corner, I’m scrambling to get the party all sorted out. It’s tougher than I thought – the venue, card, decor, guest list, food. The last time I had to go through something like this was for my wedding, and I had a very competent wedding planner who made sure all I did was give orders and rest.

I wanted to go the whole nine yards, with a marching band and fireworks, but I realized that Tru will probably not remember a single detail of his first birthday. So I might as well save it for a couple of years down the road where he’ll be begging us for a marching band.

For now, it’ll just be a smallish (a matter of perspective) affair.

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