literally a crappy post, side effects of motherhood, stuff best described as not safe for parents

The curious case of the missing bath toys

June 1, 2010

You probably already know that I misplace things fairly often.

I’m just talking about the things that I know are missing, because it technically does not count as lost until you need to start looking for it. It could be due to my massive brain that is thinking about 5,000 things at once. Or wait a minute, maybe it’s because I spend my entire day running after two very active toddlers who think it’s funny to hide my stuff, like “let’s see momma grab her hair and charge around the house looking for her car key while we are already FASHIONABLY LATE because THAT’S SO HILARIOUS.”

Again, that’s just the things I know are misplaced. Most of the stuff they hide, I don’t even know I have to begin with. Just the other day, I found $2 in the dustbin. Again. Who knows how much money they’ve chucked into the rubbish bin already? I can’t believe I’m having to sieve through my own rubbish before dunking them down the chute.

Then there’s my bathroom. I call it the Bermuda Triangle. It’s weird because stuff goes in there and just disappears completely. Stuff like bath toys, squirties, toothbrushes (I’ve lost 3 baby toothbrushes to date), non-bath-toys that find their way into the tub because I can’t find any bath toys to keep them occupied in the tub.

For a while, I’ve been having a nagging suspicion that the items in the bathroom are disappearing so I check the kitchen dustbin (nearest to the bathroom) all the time just in case they’re throwing stuff away there, but nothing. So I just leave it at that since mysterious toilet disappearances are not at the top of my list of things to investigate (as opposed to making sure the kids are still alive and not in any mortal danger).

This morning, I had a massive choke in my bathroom and it started to FLOOD. I mean drain water with little poop bits was filling the floor at an alarming rate, threatening to flood my entire kitchen as well. And don’t even get me started on the smell, I can still smell it in my head after scrubbing my hands like 25 times. Obviously I start panicking and screaming for help.

Soon after, toys were coming out of the hole in my bathroom floor, the hole I cover up with a drain cover, without any idea that Tru can open quite easily with his little fingers. I found a pig, a whistle, a squirting thing and a chicken, all slimy and covered in oh gross, I don’t even want to think  about it. Obviously then I start panicking and screaming at Tru for throwing stuff into the toilet drain. At which point he came in and saw the water and toys and thought the entire toilet was a giant bathtub and wanted to start bathing. In the drain water.

It was a good move though, because I forgot about yelling at him for the toy-throwing and started yelling at him for being all disgusting and gross.

I think it’s time to start looking for a plumber, but I know whichever plumber unfortunate enough to take the job is going to give me the evil eye once they discover the slime-covered toys in the drain. I have a feeling there’s a lot more where those came from. AND IT’S NOT EVEN MY FAULT. Gah!

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Funny or So I think, side effects of motherhood

Who’s afraid of a little red guy with a big mouth?

May 31, 2010

When I first got my hands on the iPhone, I resolved not to let my kids play with it, knowing that they are likely to chuck it, smash it, dunk it in water and basically make me regret ever letting them touch it in the first place.

But kids, they have a sixth sense for all the things they are not allowed to touch and you know how it is. After a day of constant badgering, I finally surrendered my spanking new phone. Also, I heard other parents raving about how incredible some of the apps are, with its educational and keeping-kids-quiet capabilities. I was mostly sold on the second part.

Once they got it, they proceeded to submerge it in water and use it as a weapon of destruction just as I expected but I suppose I only have myself to blame for it. Although that’s not really the point here.

The point is that in the process, I also discovered that the phone was truly unparalleled in its ability to prevent meltdowns. Every time I saw a tantrum coming, all I needed to do was pull out my trump card and… instant silence. I know, I can practically sweep best parenting awards with this move. Stop judging me.

It’s not like I don’t try other methods. My car is filled with different toys to keep them quiet but each one usually lasts for 60 seconds tops before it gets flung out of the baby seat. Even daddy’s Omnia doesn’t make it past the 5 minute mark. It’s like they know it’s inferior.

With the phone, baby girl watches Youtube quietly on the go and Tru, he’s addicted to ALL the games. He can fiddle with the phone for a whole hour straight reading Dr Seuss, singing the Wheels of the Bus and playing that spelling game he’s getting quite good at. He’s also got a signature move to go with it, where he grips the phone with his left hand, sucks his right thumb and uses his pinkie to navigate the phone. That boy redefines the meaning of badass.

Recently, we’ve been trying to figure out a way to reduce Tru’s playing time. Every time I tell him time’s up, he goes all screamy on me and he’s like “forget it mom, you’ll have to pry this from my grip of death”.

Until yesterday, that is. Tru was with me at the wet market, seated in his stroller with phone in hand while I was trying to do my marketing when he suddenly threw down the phone and unleashed the mother of all screeches. Everyone within a 5 meter radius turned to look and we were all trying to figure out if he was injured or something. I couldn’t find anything wrong with him and he was crying too badly to explain. Eventually, I figured it out. The source of the distress: Talking Carl.

Let me qualify by saying that I got this app because it was highly reviewed by one of the Mac sites. This little guy supposedly repeats everything you say with a hysterical voice and it is claims to be able to provide me with hours of peacefulness. Apparently, my son disagrees. Turns out, it’s his greatest nemesis. He’s terrified out of his skin and freaks out completely whenever he so much as sees the icon of Talking Carl. He also made me throw the app away, which I was forced to do immediately.

I was sure he was overreacting and it was one of his bizarre quirks. Then I saw this clip and it all made sense.

*For best results, crank up the volume or use earphones.

Talking Carl from yann le coroller on Vimeo.

I’m sure this violates some parenting theories but I’m totally getting the app back on my phone for the next time he refuses to stop playing. I’m all about results.

What are your meltdown-prevention methods?

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kids inc

The one where Kirsten found a boyfriend and Tru found a new special power

May 26, 2010

We had our first picnic at the Botanic Gardens over the weekend and it turned out to be way more fun than I expected. We’ve been wanting to spend more time outdoors with the kids but you know me and the sun don’t go very well together so I’ve been finding excuses to head over to McDonalds instead. Well thanks to the camera, I hauled everyone out of bed for our first Sunday picnic beside the Swan Lake together with a bunch of friends so that I could fill this blog with more pictures.

Evidently the kids loved it. Tru spent most of his morning sauntering around, throwing bread into the lake and then grabbing his face and going “Oh gosh, OH GOSH, OH GOSH” when the fish came up to eat it. The husband spent his morning trying to make sure Tru didn’t jump headfirst into the lake to grab the swans.

Meanwhile, baby girl was working the camera for momma like a pro, thrilled with all the attention she was getting.

Halfway through, she got bored and decided to find herself a boyfriend. I knew I’d have to do the talk with her about kissing boys at some point, I just didn’t expect to have to do it this soon. Daddy says we’ll have to buy a large stick to beat off boys when she’s a little older.

I was busy taking photographs and catching up with friends and having breakfast when I noticed that Tru was hiding behind the bench sipping his milo. And not in a “look mom, peekaboo” sort of way. It was a look I’ve never seen on his face before, a big boy look. A flicker of self-consciousness, like he thought if he covered his eyes, nobody would be able to see him. A look like this.

That look right there, it broke my heart.

I’m not sure if he felt like he was invisible, that maybe Kirsten was stealing all his thunder. Or maybe it’s the beginning of self-awareness. The dilemma of craving the attention and yet feeling conscious at the same time. One that gets exacerbated when you have a sibling around the same age. One that I’m all too familiar with.

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time hiding behind my mom’s ankles. Mostly because I had a brother a year older who clapped and sang and danced on cue, which was unbelievably cute. Me, I was happy not being seen.

So I passed baby girl to daddy and hid behind the bench together with my little boy. I told him if we covered our eyes, we could disappear for a little while and nobody would be able to see us. Momma would be there to hold his hand if he wanted and only when he was ready, we’d come back and play peekaboo with everyone else. Silently, he nodded and covered his eyes some more.

I think my boy grew up over the weekend.

Sometimes I wonder if being a stay home mom makes that much of a difference. We could always use the extra income and it’s not like I’m an expert on early childhood education anyway. But then in moments like these, I’m just glad that I’m there for him. Even if there ain’t much I can do to really help, I like to think that me being there is help enough.

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