Friday, March 5, 2010

moving day

Dear blogger.com,

I'm leaving you.
It's not you. It's me.
You've probably heard that a million times.
But it's the truth.

You see.
I've rekindled an old love.
And his name is Photography.

Surely you must have seen this coming.
I've dropped hints.
You've seen a few photographs.
I hope we can still be friends.

Sincerely,
Cynthia

http://talesfromdamotherhood.wordpress.com/

I've moved my blog to WordPress, my friends. And, yes I'm dropping my SAHM-I-AM alias. I haven't written anything new there yet but I hope to soon. I've also created a photography blog called a picture in time. Nothing much to see there yet either but I hope you'll come to visit me one day.

Monday, February 15, 2010

the sum of me

Instead of writing a post, I've managed to waste time creating this word cloud ... the top 150-ish words appearing in my blog since I created it a year ago. The bigger the word, the more frequent it appears. The shape reminds me slightly of a thumb print.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

potty watch

The path to successful potty training, not unlike sleeping through the night, for Little Dude has been a long worn one fraught with many ups and downs. With every 2 steps forward, we're almost immediately met with a step back. Last night, when I asked Little Dude when he was going to go potty on his own, he cheekily answered, "Don't worry, mommy. I'll go in March."

This morning at breakfast he announced that he was never going to go potty again. Yikes. Back to square one! I needed a different tactic and went on a hunt while the boys were at nursery school.

I presented Little Dude with the Potty Watch, a $14 purchase, at lunch time. He liked the music it played and agreed to put it on. The idea is that every 30, 60 or 90 minutes a musical alarm will go off to let Little Dude know that it was time to go potty. I set the timer to 60 minutes.

Ten minutes before the music was scheduled to come on, Little Dude came rushing by announcing that he had to poop and off he went to the bathroom to do his deed. "Put the music on, mommy," he asked still sitting on the toilet. And I did. Over and over. Finally, I told him that he had to wait another hour for the music to come back on.

The alarm went off while Little Dude was watching tv. Okay, here we go. The true test. I reminded Little Dude that the music meant it was potty-time, put the tv on pause and helped him out of his pants. Off he ran towards the bathroom. Minutes later, I heard, "Put the music on again! I peed!"

So here we are again. Back on track. How long the potty watch music will hold his interest, I don't know. I hoping much longer than the purple truck and trailer set did.

At least, he's going again.


update: Five hours. That's how long it took Little Dude to figure out that you have to press 2 buttons simultaneously and then the blue button to toggle through the settings to get the damn watch to stay on "play music" mode. The good news is that he's still going to the potty. [Sigh]

Friday, February 5, 2010

a year in review

February 6th will mark my first anniversary of blogging. Given that I haven't posted here in weeks, it seems absurd to even mention it. But here I am reflecting on the year past. My year of blogging sporadically.

So instead of celebrating my blog (a modest total of 63 posts ... 64 including this one), I think it is more fitting for me to celebrate the act of blogging. Briefly. Because it's late and the Good Man has just asked me to not be too long.

Thank you blogosphere for providing me with free therapy as I muddle my way through motherhood.

Thank you all you mommy bloggers out there. I love the way your stories make me think, reflect and laugh out loud.

Thank you to the few people out there who have taken the time to comment on my posts. It means more to me than you'll ever know.

In particular, thank you SMUKKE, a mom living in Europe who doesn't blog herself but followed my ramblings silently. You reached out to me with the most helpful advise and comments during a rough patch with LittleR Dude. You did not know me, yet you seemed to know me the most. I was so self-absorbed at the time that I forgot to really thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I'm sorry I haven't posted lately. To be honest, I've been using my camera more than words to capture my life as a mom raising two boys and have been posting them on a personal site.

I offer you a sampling of the latest photographs I've taken of my family in this video slideshow:

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

big imples

I'm sitting on the toilet. LittleR Dude walks to the open door and asks, "Can I come in?!"

He sits on the stool directly across from me and notices a magazine hanging sideways on the towel rack. There's an ad showing the back of a woman. She has nothing on except a thin line of body lotion wrapping around the back of her neck mimicking halter top strings tied into a bow.

"She's naked."

"Yes, she is."

"She has big imples."

"Her elbows are little big." More bony than big, I think to myself.

"Her imples are big." He points to her shoulder blades.

I turn my head sideways to see the ad right-side up. A light bulb switches on inside my head.

"Oh, that's her back. You can't see her front."

"I have big imples," he says tweeking them.

I smile.

"You have big imples," he adds and I redivert the little fingers reaching towards me, wrapping them around my neck instead.

Friday, January 1, 2010

2010

Early last night, I bade 2009 a fond farewell without fanfare and told 2010 that I'd see her the next morning. I needed the rest and so did the Good Man. But 2010 wasn't having any of it. I was startled awake thinking someone just got shot outside my window. Fireworks! Damn. The clock showed 12:09 and Little Dude was crying for daddy. The Good Man settled him back to sleep. Half an hour later, bang! More fireworks.

Today, on the 1st day of 2010, the Good Man and I cleaned up after the messiest wet poop exploding out of LittleR Dude ever. It went down the length of one leg. Covered the bottom of his feet. In between one set of toes. Tracked in the kitchen. And, escaped clumps in the family room.

2010, I see it's going to be that kind of year, huh?! You just couldn't cut a girl recovering from pneumonia and her tired hubby some slack. Here are my resolutions, you b!tch.

I will celebrate the coming of 2011
Because this year can't end fast enough. And I can't believe it's only Day 1.

I will stop thinking that it's still okay to be seen in public in maternity clothes
A repeat of last year's. Voice screaming in my head: "Your youngest son is over 2 years old! You're not pregnant and will never be again. It's been assured in multiple ways. Put the stuff in a box, seal it with duct tape and give it to charity. Pants with a stretchy waist band that goes over your gut is NOT a good look unless you are pregnant. You have a big ass. Accept it and buy some big ass pants."

I will floss my teeth
Because I've got an appointment in mid-January.

I will put more thought into mom's Christmas gift
She really scored big this year. A scarf from Louis Vutton. Another one from Hermes. A Burberry watch. From me, she got a 3-container CrockPot for all her entertaining needs. I'm so lame. Next year, I'm going to swipe a Mercedes hood ornament and put it on her Toyota. [Insert sorry-ass nervous laughter here.] So very lame. Note: No, my siblings are not rich. They just love my mom way more than I do.

I will stop swearing in my blog
It's not how I've been raised. And, I think my mom might be reading my blog. (By the way Mom, I was kidding about loving you less. I love you lots and lots.)

I will have the boys see more of their grandmas and grandpa
My little guys just absolutely loved having grandma L and grandpa F visit over the holidays. When it was time to take them to the airport, they packed their toy trains in their nursery school backpacks with the expectation of going on that plane with them. At home Little Dude asked mournfully, "Are they coming back?"

Earlier in the week after an overnight stay at grandma N, Little Dude asked, "Mommy, I want to ask you something. Can we drive to grandma's house, put her in the van and take her here?" Oh, dear child, abduction is a punishable offense. How about we call her in the morning?

There. I wrote that last one without swearing.

Good night, y'all. Hope 2010 brings you good health and happiness all around.

Thursday, December 31, 2009

bb photo: changes

Now I know how my hubby feels when he returns from an out of town work trip. Spent the afternoon downstairs after being cooped up sick in my room for 4 days. Lots of changes. LittleR dude grew a beard and Little Dude is off to university!

Just kidding. Lots of growing up did happen. Ones only a parent would notice.

Sent from my Blackberry device

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

off to cough myself to sleep?

I'm sitting in bed, unable to sleep, recovering from the flu and pneumonia. My fever broke late last night but the coughing lingers. I'm thinking back to a recent tweet. "Off to cough myself to sleep," a mommy blogger wrote. I thought it was clever. Now I realize what an impossible thing that is. A nagging cough, especially one accompanied by thick green phlegm, does NOT induce sleep. Quite the opposite really. And so I sit in bed reflecting on a multitude of things.

My in-laws are here. The morning after they arrived I woke up unable to get out of bed and here I've remained since, except to see the doctor and get an x-ray. I worry that I will pass on the flu to them but am also glad that they're here to help the Good Man with the boys.

I've only seen glimpses of the boys over the last three days. In my more wakeful states, I listen for them wondering if they've noticed my absence. I missed the gift opening with grandma & grandpa last night but could hear the boys' squeals of joy from my room. The Good Man also instant messaged me some photos ... Gotta love technology and a man who tries to include you in family events if only virtually. It was a sweet gesture, though I must admit, was hard to enjoy as I had reached my daily dose of Tylenol and was sufferring through severe body aches and chills.

My in-laws leave tonight. It was a short visit but a timely one. I'm so grateful. I'm not sure if the Goodman and I could have managed as well without them. I'm sorry I wasn't able to spend anytime with them but would be even sorrier should one or both of them come down with this awful flu.

Wishing all good health.

And, now maybe to sleep.

Sent from my Blackberry device

Sunday, December 27, 2009

bb photo: kiss me

LittleR Dude turns to me and purses his lips, face covered in this morning's breakfast. I smile back at him. Apparently, not good enough. "Kiss me!!" he demands.


Sent from my Blackberry device

Saturday, December 26, 2009

bb photo: and so it begins ... again

'Twas the day after christmas
When all through the house
No floor space left uncluttered
By the offspring of my spouse.

Okay so I'm no poet. Just figured out how to post a quick blog with a pic using my blackberry ... so I'm super psyched. Yay!! I don't have to maintain a 2nd blog site afterall. Goodbye daily bb. It was great while it lasted.


Sent from my Blackberry device

Sunday, December 13, 2009

baby on board

"Baby On Board!"

Seeing this sign attached to the back of cars always makes me smile. I'm, of course, laughing at myself and not anyone else.

"Baby On Board!"

As if seeing me driving a mini isn't telling enough. No. Not the cute little Mr. Bean variety Mini. I'm talking about the big mass of steel on four wheels, equipped with child-friendly sliding passenger doors, the ever-telling pull-down video screens, and hatchback storage large enough for a double-stroller and our horde of kiddie gear.

Me in my mini ... more popularly known as the minivan ... is a sure sign that I am indeed toting around offspring.

Minus one child ago, the GoodMan and I opted for a much cooler SUV to transport our first-born and his baby gear. Soon, Baby #2 arrived and then grandma came to visit which left me trying to squeeze my 30-lbs-overweight entirety in between two car seats. Not an easy or flattering task!

And so the mini was picked and bought. Later, the "Baby On Board" sign was attached. A redundant addition, in retrospect.

If driving a minivan wasn't enough to let others know that I have toddlers on board, my driving habits surely will. Yep, that's me. In the van still stopped at the light even after it turned green because:

A) I'm trying to retrieve a dropped toy that one of my boys cannot possibly live without, not a single second longer. Or,

B) I'm too busy reassuring my first-born that his name is in fact "Little Dude" and not "mommy" or "monkey" or "nannor" or other made-up names that his younger brother is calling him with a big-ass cheeky grin splashed across his face.

Ever wondered who the idiot is locking her van, making that annoying "beep-beep" sound indicating that it IS locked, five times in a row! That's me, too. Sleep-deprivation withstanding, the act of navigating two kids who are not yet 4 and all their kiddie gear across a busy parking lot and finally arriving safely at the mall entrance has left my brain unable to remember nada. Nothing. Kaput. Including whether I locked the van or not. So I click my remote several times because I can't actually hear the horn go "beep-beep" from that distance. And then I click it a couple of more times for good measure because the thought of retracing my steps so I can hear the reassuring "beep-beep" sound is unthinkable given the hardships endured getting to the store entrance already.

The "Baby On Board!" sign fell off the back of the van soon after it was attached. Its current whereabouts are unknown but I'm certain everyone already knows: I AM carrying babes on board.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

just shoot me

I don't know what possessed me to think that an impromptu photo shoot would result in a Christmas card-worthy photograph.

The inspiration:
I noticed that the boys were dressed in coordinating colours.

The downfall:
Teething-induced relentless drooling (Don't let LittleR Dude's smile fool you. He's been a salivating, miserable little guy all day, as in this photo) ...


... plus an equally incessant runny nose ...


... make an attention-deficit and very uncooperative second child.


Merry @%$#-ing Christmas Grandma & Grandpa!

Saturday, December 5, 2009

daydreams at night

Restful sleep has been elusive lately. The flu has worn me down.

Last night, I slipped in and out of consciousness moving from one surreal dream or thought into the next. I opened my eyes wondering if I just heard LittleR Dude crying ... from teething pain. There was silence. I sighed ... glad that this was the final molar and last baby tooth to come in. But this feeling of relief was momentary because I knew full well it will not be the last time I will be awakened by the sound (real or imagined) of my boys crying.

I touched my forehead and caressed the small lump still stinging from this morning's collision with a door as I rushed outside to put a bag of mouldy oranges in the compost bin. "F*ck!" I screamed, immediately feeling guilty because both boys were at the kitchen table only a few feet away. I envisioned the two of them greeting their daddy with an exuberant, "F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!" when he got home from work. F*ck it, I thought and decided not to say anything further. My forehead was already throbbing.

Moments after this incident, and because I love the sensation of flesh meeting wood so much, I walked into the side of the bathroom door hitting a different part of my forehead, albeit not as abruptly. This time I had the sense to keep my thoughts to myself.

I closed my eyes and dreamed some more. A young girl was being led away by a young boy. They looked in love. I became conscious of the good man snoring beside me. I coughed. Hacked. He snored. He can sleep through anything.

My thoughts darted to the house that we considered buying this summer. I remembered salivating at the thought of moving into a house with fewer and smaller rooms to clean. And, the backyard. Well, it was utterly stunning! I fell in love with the garden, the pool, the grass area and the clumps of mature trees ... a forest for the boys to run through, discover nature and build a tree house in. But we didn't act fast enough and the house sold before we could even put a bid in.

Construction in our backyard began this fall. We're putting in a pool and cordoning a section of "play space" for the boys. Instead of searching for the perfect house, we've decided to make our current home perfect for us, an investment that will ground us here for at least 10 years. It's an incredibly liberating decision and I now look forward to notching a door frame with the kids' heights and creating other memories deep in the walls and space around me.

I closed my eyes again. Other daydreams whirled around my head. Then finally, sleep.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

blogging on the side

Yes, it's true. I've been blogging elsewhere. Little Dude's sleep schedule has made it impossible to maintain my night time blogging ritual. Since I'm not ready to completely give blogging up for good, I've found an alternative ... micro-blogging using my blackberry and a the new Typepad Micro app. Please check it out at http://www.dailybb.typepad.com/. The boys have been renamed c1 and c2 because, frankly, thumbing "Little Dude" and "LittleR Dude" is more work than I'm willing to take on right now. The Good Man is still the good man or gm, for short. Longer thoughts will still be posted here. Gotta run. The babes are a-calling.

++++

I'm back. C2 ... I mean LittleR Dude was screaming and crying about wanting something from Little Dude who was running around giggling and clutching the object of desire. More at the Daily BB blog.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

an ape in little dude's bed

The Good Man is tucking Little Dude in for the night.

GM: Good night.
LD: Good night.

GM: Love you.
LD: Love you.

GM: Have a good sleep.
LD: Have a good sleep.

GM: I'm going to sleep now.
LD: I'm going to sleep now.

GM: I'm going to stay in bed.
LD: I'm going to stay in bed.

GM: I'm a chimpanzee.
LD: I'm Little Dude!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

duped

Little Dude crushes a cracker into his cup. He still likes to make concoctions with his left-over food. He lifts the cup up to me and asks, "Mommy, what's this?" Crumbs are everywhere.

"A big mess," I reply casually.

"No, it isn't," he insists.

"What is it then?" I ask, wondering if crumbs has made it to his vocabulary.

"It's an accident!"

D'oh! Little Dude: 1. Mommy: 0.

Later, Little Dude asks to have a Coffee Crisp from his Halloween stash. After some quick negotiations, I find myself watching him lick a second helping of ice cream on a mini cone. And, I wonder if the reason why I caved in so easily is because I wanted to keep the Coffee Crisp to myself or if my chocolate-hating 3 1/2-year-old, in fact, had planned to have ice cream all along and successfully duped me for a second time today.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

boo

LittleR Dude insisted on going trick-or-treating with his lunch bag tonight. Who am I to argue with a dragon?

Monday, October 12, 2009

thank you

My lola (grandma) died at age 98, several years ago. Although she often talked of her life in the Philippines, I remember very few details now. I had always wanted to record her stories on tape and transcribe them but never did.

Among many things, my lola lived through the Japanese occupation of the Philippine countryside. I remember her recalling how she witnessed the stomach of pregnant woman in her village suffer the rage of soldier's bayonet.

My lola's daughter (my mom) to this day will only speak of high school beauty pageants and dances. But my (dearly departed) father would sometimes talk excitedly about living through the war as a young boy not yet in his teens. His eyes would widen as he recounted how he was sometimes forced to hold his breath underwater for long periods of time and used reeds as make-shift snorkels in order avoid capture.

I cannot even begin to imagine living through those times. The years of sleep-deprivation. The atrocities of exploding vomit and poop. The massacre of peas, mushed but uneaten. The torture endured on watching yet another In the Night Garden episode. These are the struggles I have faced. Although the exhaustion, helplessness, frustration and boredom I've felt are very real to me, these as well as the guilt and feelings of inadequacy that sometimes overwhelm me do not compare to having lived through a war.

And so as I reminisce about the old stories told by my father and lola and as this (Canadian) Thanksgiving long weekend comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the things I am grateful for. There really is so much. Too many to write down here. So I've kept my list brief:

The Good Man
You've taken your fair share of raising the boys and, certainly, of dealing with the night time and early morning wake-ups. I love you for that and, on a more selfish level, I love the way you often lie on my side of the bed on cold nights, warming it for me before I climb in beside you. Thank you.

Little Dude and LittleR Dude
Mommy was 39 and 41 when she had you but, still, you were born with 2 eyes, 2 arms and 2 legs and no physical abnormalities. Good genes, a healthy lifestyle, my avoidance of the dentist (and consequently, x-rays) stacked the deck in our favour, yes. But not all mommies, some much, much younger than I was, were so lucky.

I'm so grateful that I have the three of you in my life and that my daily struggles are not those involving life and death, as did my lola and father.

Friday, October 9, 2009

ouch

In one of my rare waves of neat freakishness, I was tidying up the family/play room and jammed my knee against the corner of the toy box. I yelped, grabbed my injured knee and writhed in pain on the carpet.

Little Dude was playing nearby and with real concern in his voice, he exclaimed, "Don't worry, mommy. I'll kiss it better." He did.

This brought a smile to my face but did not relieve the pain. I muffled the expletives screaming in my head as I tried, unsuccessfully, to get up. I must have sounded like a wounded puppy.

"Don't worry, mommy. You'll feel better soon," Little Dude encouraged and patted me on my head.

Good god! Is this the same boy who initiates the torture tag games that usually ends with his younger brother or both of them in tears? I couldn't help but feel proud.

Eager for more evidence that my first-born has, in fact, learned how to sympathize and give comfort, I faked a cry of pain.

Little Dude walked back to his toy. "You need to be more careful, mommy," he suggested.

Ouch!

Thursday, October 8, 2009

no shame

It's always been difficult hiding my emotions. The Good Man will attest to that. In my pre-baby, corporate office life days, I had to work very hard to contain the negativity, displeasure, anger and anxiety I felt at times. Back then, I considered these as signs of weakness and inappropriate in high doses in the workplace. Worse even still was crying in front of peers or supervisors. The kiss of death to one's professional career, I thought.

Although I was not shy about expressing my opinions about projects openly and passionately, I worked hard to remain composed and not appear hyper-sensitive or negative. I remember turning to my coworkers one day, apologizing for complaining so much. They turned to each other and laughed. They hadn't heard a peep from me all morning. I had been having unpleasant conversations in my head while typing away at the computer.

However, I do recall one occasion when my emotional fortress collapsed. The day I failed to hide the intense sense of betrayal and disappointment I felt on hearing about a change in the makeup of my team. I no longer remember the details of why the news affected me so much but what I will never forget is feeling my face flush as they made the announcement and walking out of the room in the middle of the meeting, not so much in anger, but to hide the tears that eventually fell when I got in my car. I was gone for several hours and considered resigning that day, not only to escape my work environment, but to avoid the repercussions of having let such a profound outburst escape.

It's funny now (as a stay-at-home mom) that I seem to have dropped my inhibitions about exposing my anxieties, fears and flaws. The emotions that I tried to hide and repress in the corporate world are now in full display. On the Internet, of all places. Today, I feel no shame in admitting the immense guilt that cuts through me on seeing my toddler deal with separation anxiety. Nor in telling you that I have cried about it. It's liberating!

Have I become soft in motherhood or just more forgiving of public displays of emotions and weaknesses?

I don't know. Perhaps, I've simply come to understand that to be a mother is to accept that there will be days when I will feel weak and, yes, cry. And, that there really is no shame in that.

+++++

This morning I dropped the boys off a half hour later than usual hoping to avoid the hand-off traffic at the nursery school. Hoping to find the other children in the room more settled. Hoping to catch one of the teachers free to give LittleR Dude some one-on-one attention. I had a doctor's appointment to get to. I needed this morning's goodbye to be less traumatic.

We arrived in the middle of snack time. I sat LittleR Dude next to Teacher J. I used different words this time. I told him I was "going to work," a little white lie that he accepts happily when I leave him with the Good Man for a few hours.

His lower lip jutted out. Tears flowed. But the hysterics did not come. I left promptly. Later, Teacher J informed me that the tears disappeared seconds after I left.

Everyone was right. It does get easier with time. I did not cry, today.