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truett

I’ll remember to blog when I’m in jail

January 11, 2011

This came in the mail yesterday. In an important-looking On Government Service envelope so at first I thought we were going to be given some GST credits or something. Until the husband opened it up and it was basically a warrant for our arrest for making nuisance calls to the police hotline.

Whoever said that having kids was boring clearly didn’t have my kids. With my kids, I have to be prepared to be hauled off to jail at anytime for something that’s not even my fault. Well technically, it is possibly my fault because I should be vigilant and preempt all the mischief they get up to but there’s no way I would have expected my 18-month & 30-month-old kids to dial 999 and then breathe heavily at the police officer.

As the responsible, law-abiding citizens that we are, this is not something we find in the mail everyday. Or ever. Worst part was that we didn’t even get to feel all badass about prank-calling the police just for fun (yeah, don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to do that). Now I have to be extra careful to make sure they don’t prank call the police again or get hauled off to jail.

Also, Mr. Police Officer, there’s really no use putting the phone on a high ledge somewhere because there’s no place to high for the kids to reach. Especially since they learnt that dragging a stool around the house gives them a height-boost. One time I came into the room to find them scaling the window grilles in their room (which were securely locked but it didn’t stop me from going psycho-mom on them for dangerous behavior).

The way I see it, the only probable option was rehabilitation, where I made them realize the severity of the issue. So I gathered the kids and told them that they weren’t supposed to play with the phone and particularly not to dial 999 under any circumstances.

Tru looked very serious during the talk and after I was done, he grabbed his chest, gave a fake cough and said “Truett never play with the phone. I need to call the ambulance because I’m very sick.”

I’m pretty sure that’s a sign my kid is way too smart for his own good. That’s also a sign we are probably going to be arrested.

by Daphne

kids inc

Please mama, can I have more food?

November 18, 2009

I’ve forgotten what a messy affair introducing solids to a baby is. Kirsten started her first meal of baby rice a couple of days ago at 18 weeks, 2 weeks earlier than Tru. It’s even messier because her tiny mouth is so small that most of the cereal dribbles out before it even gets in. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s not ready but I’ve done this before, so I’m like an expert on weaning now.

With the first kid, you’re stumbling in the dark, not sure if it’s too early to start solids, whether it will cause indigestion or hives. You panic at the slightest sniffle and rush him to the hospital. The first sign of teething sends you into overdrive because at first, you don’t know why your perfect little baby is cranky and acting like a monster.

That’s what comes from being a second-time mom. Experience. And bigger boobs. But mostly the first one. This time, you see all the signs coming from a mile off. Baby girl has been in a foul mood the past few days, refusing to nap and wanting to be carried all the time. She used to entertain herself talking to her friends (cot mobile) but it was impossible to put her down even for a minute. When Tru went through a similar phase a year ago, I was flustered and frustrated after a day but this time, I was cool. Relatively.

Slight temperature, fussiness, finger chomping, drooling, all classic signs of teething, so I put some ice cubes into a baby feeder to soothe her sore gums. Worked like a charm.

She’s also been licking her lips every time she sees us eating, so I figured it was time to bring out the baby rice. It just confirms my theory that my kids are foodies. I have friends who, if they could, would take a pill to meet their entire day’s nutritional needs. To them, eating is for sustenance. Kinda like crapping and flossing. (I’m sure there are people who derive immense pleasure from these activities, but most of us just do it cos we have to)

My kids, on the other hand, LOVE TO EAT. Kirsten took to the baby rice like a fish to water. She chomped down every last bit and started screaming when it was all gone. My 18-week-old baby. Screaming for more Healthy Times brown rice cereal. I know some folks advocate introducing solids after 6 months, but when it comes to food, my girl is way ahead of the pack. Less than a week in, she’s on half a bowl of cereal (ok, a really tiny bowl) twice a day. I think those juicy rolls on her thighs are going to explode.

Food makes me smile

Incidentally, every time I feed baby girl, Tru goes into a frenzy. Seeing his sister slurp up every bite, he seems to think plain baby rice is like manna from heaven. When he sees me taking out the bowl, he’ll point to it and go eat, eat, eat, EAT, EATTTT! Next time I want him to eat his broccoli, I’ll pretend to make Kirsten eat it first to see if it works.

by Daphne

kids inc, motherhood

By the powers combined, I am MegaDutchess.

October 22, 2009

Sometimes I astound myself with my abilities. And by that I mean I’m like a new X-men, with special powers and all. If I were an X-men, I’d be Vishnu, or is it Krishna or Shiva. You know, the one with a thousand arms sticking out from everywhere. But I’d have a much cooler name like Megadutchess. Incidentally, I got the name from a kick ass Superhero Name Generator (this is the kind of thing I spend my free time doing).

Right, so yesterday, I brought BOTH kids out for a walk around the neighborhood alone. By myself. With only 2 arms and 2 babies. Impossible, you say? Not with Megadutchess to the rescue. Because I’m a psychopath superhero.

Tru has been down with a long-drawn battle with the flu and he’s been itching to leave the house. After whining for the whole day, making me wear his shoes and saying BYEEE repeatedly (his cue to leave the house), he finally got his way and I figured it was way easier to take him out for a walk than to be driven mad cooped up at home. This would be easier if I had a lift that came right up to my house, but I have to walk down a flight of stairs to get to the lift. Which means lugging a stroller up and down with 2 kids is out of the question.

I grabbed Kirsten with one arm and handcuffed Tru’s hand to my own and made my way slowly downstairs. It took me 20 minutes just to get from my doorstep to the playground and half of that time was spent shouting “Tru, come back here this minute” while he attempted to lie on the floor, pick at dirt, eat ants and dig out trash from the bin.

Then when we reached the playground, there was this brattish 4-year-old girl who tried to terrorize him. Obviously she could run faster than Tru and she monopolized every inch of the playground that he tried to touch, the whole time raining curses on him like “you are very naughty” and “I’m going to beat you”. When she thought I wasn’t looking, she threw a bottle cap at him. I was about to burn her with a cigarette stub when her mother suddenly appeared and started going ballistic. It was like I had some psychic powers that summoned her.

She pretty much smacked the living crap out of her right there in the playground and I watched with more than a little bit of satisfaction before grabbing the kids and making a quick getaway. Talk about poetic justice.

But I digress. The point is I don’t even know why I do these things. Like finding new ways to torment myself. By the time I got back, my arms were deadweight. But Tru was happy though. And Kirsten looked better with some fresh air. Although now I think they expect this is going to be a regular feature in their daily activities. Megadutchess, transform.

by Daphne

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