Monday, August 31, 2009

dear phone solicitor:

Perhaps, the two little screaming voices in the background did not make it apparent. But nope. You have not caught me in the mood to listen to you explain the benefits of purchasing insurance through my credit card company.


And you: Young lady who interrupted our nap time routine by ringing the doorbell and rapping on the door rather aggressively. The once-but-no-longer-sleepy little boy calling for me at the top of the stairs may not have provided you with a clue that perhaps you should get to the point of your visit. And, may I also suggest the you get your head out of your binder and make eye contact when relating to me how you were just speaking to my neighbour about great 'educational materials' for her son. What are you selling?! Your two minutes are up.


As for you: Guy from our water heater supplier who called while we were preparing for dinner. You do NOT have the right to ask if I have air conditioning or gas heating in my home or about matters that do not pertain to the water heater unit that we purchased from you. When I asked why you were calling about exactly, you tried to avoid this question by repeating that you were from our water heater supplier and asked again if I had air conditioning or gas heating in my home, but this time with impatience in your voice that reminded me of my 3 1/2-year-old when I do not answer his questions fast enough. Well, this just utterly pissed me off. Don't use that tone with me. And, most of all, do NOT call again.

Slam. Click.

But you: Recently-out-of-your-teens girl, with a European accent that I can't place, selling pretty $10 bookmarks from Korea door-to-door so that you can fund your stay in Canada. You remind me of my husband's daughter from his first marriage who was your age only a few years ago. You did NOT wake the boys. Here's my $20. Keep the change.

And, sweetie. If you see some little girls selling Girl Guide cookies while in my neighbourhood, do point them in my direction. They can come anytime. I'll take 4 boxes.

Thank you.

+ + + + +

I'm staying at mom's with the boys while the Good Man is out of town. Today, I answered 2 phone solicitations and Little Dude answered 3, reminding me of the interruptions that happened at my own house this summer.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

hello. goodbye. summer

Has it really been a month since my last post? A registration letter from the nursery school has reminded me that summer is soon coming to a close. How so very quickly it flew. And, so much to report.

hello, trying three's
Two weeks before nursery school classes ended, I was bracing myself for a long, torturous summer. Little Dude had morphed into a child I barely recognised then. His answer to every request or suggestion was "No, no, no!" He screamed. He ran away. He ignored. He pushed my buttons. And, then he seemed to cackle in delight at it all.

Our confrontations came daily.

Admittedly, before summer began, he had his moments and drove me mad at times. But I had never been pushed to the point where I felt out of control. Where I felt like screaming out loud and tearing every strand of my hair out.

And then finally ... it happened.

The patience that I was able to muster in the past did not surface. My voice thundered and I scolded him like I never before. It frightened Little Dude to see me so angry. It scared me a little, too. But mostly I felt ashamed. This level of anger and frustration had escaped from my voice only once before and it had been directed at an adult. I felt awful for Little Dude.

A few days later, I felt my frustration heightening again. I grabbed the kitchen sink with both hands and let out a sheepish but long grunt, "Arggghhh!" The release felt good. I was still grasping the sink when I heard Little Dude run up behind me to ask, "Is it heavy, mommy??"

Giggles and laughter. Much better.

Little Dude's bout of extreme rebelliousness didn't last long. He still has his moments but I've been able to exhume sweet patience from its hiding place. Our days are much more enjoyable again.

so long, dummy
My boys, during one of their games of chase, proved an interesting thing. When the head of an almost 2-year-old collides with the teeth of a 3 1/2-year-old, the head will win.

The head gets a slight red mark with barely a complaint out of the almost 2-year-old.

The teeth, however, get an emergency visit to the dentist a week following the collision and the 3 1/2-year-old sports a blackened front tooth until his adult teeth come in.

The good news: The mommy (who is feeling brave/lucky at having survived the worst of the trying three's stage) takes this opportunity to rid the 3 1/2-year-old of his dummy while at the dentist's office. She offers the soother to her son and asks him to hand it to the dentist in a grand ceremony, declaring that he is now a big boy and doesn't need a dummy. The boy complies, possibly, because he hasn't been able to use his soother at night because of his sore gums and tooth. And, that is that.

the scoop on poop
Getting rid of the dummy was easy peasy. Toilet training? Not so much. Trying to ride on the wave of good fortune following our farewell-to-the-dummy milestone, we decided to give toilet training a go again. I'm happy to report that Little Dude is now using the toilet regularly. However, accidents still abound. Our boy will not sit on the throne unless he is invited, it seems.

Not yet completely toilet-trained but much progress has been had.

Life is good.