It's Time for a Sibling for your Child: A Submission from the Dog

Dear Owners/Mommy,

The small one has always been fond of me. But lately, she has become too enamoured with my company. We play and snuggle ALL THE TIME. She's always in my space. It started last year:

Mommy.  She's on my blanket.

And she brought weird vegetables.

Seriously, you guys.  

She upped the ante this summer, while we were on vacation together.  Now, she needs to be touching all the time. I think she gets that from you, Mommy. 

Omg.

OMG.

OMFG.

Anytime.  Intervene anytime.

 

And she's always tagging along when I entertain friends:

.

Pretend that you're sleeping. Maybe she'll go away.

Though, I suppose she is cozy, and she does let me snuggle her at night...

 

 

 

 
 

 

And... She does share her friends when they come to play...

They're making me a picnic.  I'm supervising.

So... I suppose there's no immediate rush... She does have her merits.

 

...But you should maybe look into it.  Like, start a petition, or something.

 

Respectfully,

 

The Dog.

I Can't be the Only Parent that Hates This...

I can see why the government is always trying to get teachers to negotiate during the summer.  Because the end of the summer is the absolute worst time for teachers to strike.  Even the best, most loving and patient parents are sick of their kids come September.  I am a flag-waving, die-hard union member, and I might not support a September strike.

Ann took 5 weeks off from daycare this summer.  I worked summer school in July, and then we had 2 weeks at home and 3 weeks away.  Our trip was amazing, and she and I- and Adrian and Maggie- had some incredible times together.  But I practically threw her at her teacher September 4.  And my child is a lovely, lovely child.  She doesn't hit, or bite, or yell, or tantrum (mostly).  My complaints include that she wants to practice the longest kisses in the world while I'm busy on my phone.  And that the game of trying to outdo each other in our declarations of love gets boring.  And while, arguably, she spent a lot of time with Aunties this summer- seriously- I'm so sick of playing games.  I'M SO SICK OF PLAYING HOUSE.  She always wants to play 'Mommy/Baby', and neither are good roles.  When I'm the baby I'm always confined to my room.  And being the Mommy involves carrying a lot of mewling dead-weight around.  That is all.  There is nothing else to that game.  She recently told a friend of mine that she's never allowed to play it, and this earned me some dirty looks- but honestly.  The 'baby' is always trying to breastfeed and I'm left cradling it around a grocery store as it digs in my shirt.  Or motorboat me.  I guess that makes me a selfish parent.  But this is how mature adults end up with hickeys.  Other game options include- 'Mommy/Baby Tiger', 'Mommy/Baby Dinosaur', and 'Mommy/Baby Doggy'.  I have a physical reaction to these suggestions that is much too strong to be healthy.  I feel like the WORST parent.

And why did no one prepare me for this?  We are all aware of the unfortunate baggage that comes with parenting; lack of sleep, exhaustion, taking 7 hours to get out of the house in the morning...  These grievances are on every list.  But I would add things like: bath toys that get slimy and eject black slimy particles out of their blow holes and into the bathwater.  And cleaning vomit out of carseat joins with a toothbrush.  And playing HOUSE.

Fortunately, she recently discovered that Maggie can be the Mommy Doggy; though Maggie's not that cooperative either.  She refuses to lay still while Ann cuddles up to her, knees and elbows all jammed into her tummy, waiting to be born.  Maggie just paces from room to room, casting baleful glances in my direction and sighing as her puppy drags along behind, clinging to her legs and ruff-ing.

There'd better be cookies involved after this.

Prawning AKA 'Hunting for Sea Cockroaches' or 'Fishing for Sea Beetles'

Because, let's be clear, that's what they are.  They're all arthropods; crustaceans, spiders, beetles....  They all have segmented bodies, exoskeletons and 8 million legs (roughly).  Crabs and spiders; they're the same thing.  THINK ABOUT IT. So you're paying a premium to eat spiders legs.  To be precise, prawns probably resemble millipedes the most.  Mull that over.

In addition, District 9 named their aliens after prawns.  Because they look alike.  And they both love cat food.

With Garlic Butter.

However, everyone else in my family loves prawns.  And to be honest, unlike fishing, prawning does not require you to get up before sunrise and freeze your tail off, getting seasick and watching lines bob in the water. So I'm generally pretty gamers (relatively speaking).  On a beautiful day like this one- 28 degrees Celsius,  flat calm and with playmates in tow (minus an auntie and a cousin; sad face emoticon); I can't complain. 

We did have an inauspicious start.  We forgot Maggie's life jacket on the other boat, and she refused to board the vessel.

What's the weather like?  Calm seas?

But she adjusted.  She helped herself to some of the prawn bait, and felt better about her situation.  We paid for that later.  Our bedroom stank for days.



I'mhavingthebesttime

We went out with Uncle Dale and Cousin Wade. 


Wade's an excellent driver.

 Ann was very adamant that we strictly follow all fishing regulations and boat safety protocol.  She was ready to blow the whistle on any infraction. Wade regulated that Ann not touch his trains.

She was mainly concerned with filling her face, though. 

Whilst her mother was distracted with the task of smiling and sucking in, holding the dog and child on a moving vessel; Ann ate everyone's sandwiches.

Except for when it was her turn to drive.

Anyways, prawns were caught.  Maggie was super interested in the proceedings.



The f_ck?



Squat lobster.  Squatting amongst the prawns.



Do you want me to hold that for you for a second?

 I even helped behead them, which is a testament to my good mood.   Prawns are alive when you behead them; I barely even gagged as I gamely pulled out their little gut tube.  I'm so incredibly reasonable.



There was an inevitable and delicate conversation later at dinner.  "Wait a second...  Don't those prawns have families to go home to?  Who will take care of their babies?  Can you pass the garlic butter?".   I'm not sure how well we handled that conversation; I doubt that any time you're using biology terminology with a 4-year old, you're being very effective.  At any rate, she ate them.  

Happy Mother's Day! Unless you're an Unwed Mother, in Which Case; Clean it the Eff Up

At daycare last week, my loving daughter made me a Mother's Day present.  It turned out to be a narrow miss; I almost didn't receive it.  I was away this past weekend and I couldn't attend the Extra Special Mother's Day Tea at daycare.  In a fit of rage, Ann insisted that all my gifts be given to Daddy, and that Mother's Day be forthwith known as 'Daddy's Day'.  In fact, it was inclusive of the day before and the day after as well; making it 'Daddy's Days'.  And on those days, lots of stories were to be read by Daddy, and she was going to REALLY ENJOY THEM.  She said it like that too; all shouty capitals.

Luckily, she's generous of spirit:

 Now, before you get too distracted by the perfect and artistic alignment of those buttons, let's zoom in:

"To Mommy; I am thinking of you having a new ring because you like new rings. From Ann."

Obviously, she's being passive aggressive here.  It might not even be passive; this might constitute aggressive-aggressive.  She is clearly frustrated with being the only illegitimate child at daycare.  I'm sure she is routinely excluded from any reindeer games.  With our next bastard, we will scout daycares that are less hetero-normative.

I know what you're thinking, and I also cannot figure out whom she learned this behaviour from.  Probably the dog. She's super subversive.

 *To clarify; our daycare- while a little hetero-normative- is amazing.  Our next bastard will be lucky to attend.

** Adrian does not approve of me referring to offspring- both current and future- as bastards.  Just to be sure I was using it properly, I googled it:

bastard; n.

1. child without married parents 2. One who is narcissistic and unknowingly frustrating 3. The killer of kenny 4. A 70's band which changed thier (sic) name to Motörhead and became one of the best bands ever. Your parents aren't married, hence you are a bastard.   You killed kenny, you bastard. Now, even though this is the Urban Dictionary definition, known for their irreverence of the English language and their frequent misspelling of words like 'their' (see above); the number 1 definition does (in a catholic sense) apply. Potentially, also, number 2 (she does talk about herself a lot, and she did give away my special commercial holiday to her father). Adrian's point- that technically we are married- is also true, but it doesn't allow me to swear on the internet. So... that's lame. I will continue in my usage.

Belize Part I: Nerdwards in the Jungle

Nerdwards are nerdy families, in case you were wondering. And we're nerdy, for sure. I'm gonna do our trip in two or three parts. Unless I do one and get lazy.  Well, lazier.

So, we went to Belize this Christmas.  We hit the jungle first.  We were scoffed at a few times for taking our pre-schooler into the jungle.  What if something happened?  What if she got bit by a snake?  Adrian reassured me; "Yes, there are scary snakes in the jungle.  But there are scary black widow spiders in Victoria; do you ever worry about getting bit?".  Well, I wasn't worried.  Mainly because it hadn't occurred to me that they lived here.  I will worry now.  Sooo....thanks for that.  This from the man that worries using a non-approved sunscreen will cause Ann to grow another uterus.

Anyways, remember how I figured our trip was going to be like this? Well, that was based on a recent trip to PEI in which Ann travelled like this:

and acted like this THE WHOLE TIME:

Though I'd forgotten that this had happened at the end of it, which might have been onimous foreshadowing:

She's throwing a tantrum because she can't see the tv in the restaurant from the airport gate...

 Which brings us to our current trip.  She was great while we were flying...

This looks awesome, but I knocked her off that thing on numerous occasions.  It's very tippy, and it doesn't corner well at high speeds.

Much safer.

...but as soon as we were off the plane we went to lunch, and that was the TSN turning point.  She brought a virus with her. Roseola, we think. It was going around her daycare. Four to five days of high fever, and then a rash. Though, of course, you can't confirm what it is until the rash shows up. Until then, you're worried that it's jungle ebola, or fever parasites (which I'm pretty sure is a thing). It's not even really that bad, unless you're in the jungle, forty minutes from the nearest village.

IthinkI'mhavingthebesttimeIfeelreallywarm

And then it was baby tylenol, ice water and Dinosaur Train for four days. Annie barely left our cute little jungle bungalow.

Unless there were cocoa puffs, in which case we brought the Dinosaur Train with us.

This dining room is less romantic when you're eating in shifts.

 

 

He looks like he's pondering the view, but he's calculating baby tylenol dosages.

 

 

Our hammocks

OMGitiswearingoffistheremoretylenol?

We went on a LOT of walks.  We told her we were looking for jaguar footprints, but we were really just desperate for a break from pteranodons.  Not surprisingly, we didn't find any jaguars, but we did see lizards, horses, beetles, and lots of birds.  Now- I really, really like birds, but I was too distracted  to note what most of them were.

 

Look at him. He's super excited to be out on another jaguar hunt.  And she's high as a kite.

 

Rufous-tailed hummingbird.  Maybe.

 

 

I dunno.  They're green?  With some yellow?

 

It's a woodpecker.

 

 

No footprints here.

 

On one of our walks, we found a little swimming hole.  This is notable because Ann perked up and seemed almost healthy for the duration. 

Even though she refused to let her body touch the water.

 

I went by myself on a cave tour the next day.  The cave is called Actun Tunichil Muknal, and it's where the Mayans performed human sacrifices.  It's amazing, but very creepy. And unnerving. You would not survive an earthquake in there.

I have no pictures of the cave because 8 months ago, some idiot dropped his camera and it went through a skull.  Now they don't let cameras in.  So I am providing this link, you can look it up yourself. Instead, I can offer you this picture of vegetables:

We stopped at this market in San Ignacio on the way.

 

 

The guy in front of us was going too slow, so we took the field.

 

 

This is me with the machete, and our guide, Patrick.  He was a little bit crazy, but lots awesome (but more crazy).  He hikes in his bare feet, and he trains British paratroopers in jungle manuevers.  When he found out I only had one child, he remarked that I must watch a lot of tv.  Before I cottoned on that he was mocking me for my lazy uterus, I was all; "That's uncanny!  I DO watch a lot of tv!"

 

These are my British friends that I made, Garry and Fiona.  Garry was extremely ill on our hike, but still gamers (in related news, there was a very scary flu going around the resort.  I dodged it; Adrian did not).  Because there are still some strong feelings about the British, there were some strong words about them during our tour; "Please note that this bridge was brought to us by the British.  They needed it to truck out all our mahogany."

 

When I got back to the cabin that afternoon, it was clear that Adrian had watched numerous straight hours of Dinsoaur Train, and needed a break. I took Ann on a 'walk', which meant that I carried her around the property while she slept. When I'd stop, she'd wake up and cry. I took some selfies to break the monotony:

She perked up for a shot at the end. Poor sicky.

 

 

And then, just what every relaxing vacation needs; a trip to the local hospital. 

  

I kept her face pressed into me as there were incredibly violent religious imagery on the walls.  On the pediatric walls.  We were sitting across from that one where the Dad has to sacrifice his son (Isaac? Abraham?  I don't know.  Blame my parents).  But he doesn't.  But he was poised to, and that's the visual they gave us.  Just what she needed to go with her high.

 

Diagnostic imaging was available.  We were somewhat surprised.

 

Fever hasn't broken.  This was our guide that day, Anastacio.  He was amazing.

 

Finally, at the Belize Zoo (more like a rescue centre).  Ann had been talking about it for weeks, but she slept through most of it.

 

Baby Boa Constrictor.  IT'S JUST A REGULAR DAY, PEOPLE

 

 

And so ends the jungle portion of our tour. It was amazing.  AMAZING.  But the experience was not quite what we expected. We expected it was going to be incredibly relaxing.  We thought we'd be taking Ann on adventures, and then reflecting on them together- wine in hand- as the geckos chirped her- and later, us- to sleep.  But Ann refused to leave the property.  She wouldn't walk anywhere.  And on more than one occasion, she woke up in the middle of the night and barfed on me. Do you know what that does to a person?  The fear and anxiety you get about falling asleep?  And she threw rage around in a way that both terrified and riveted us, as we came to understand that we'd never actually seen a proper temper tantrum before (what do you mean you don't want your pukey hair washed?  That's completely irrational, Ann.  Three-year-olds don't behave like this).  Even Ann didn't know what was going on ("I c-c-c-an't st-st-st-stop crying??").  And she continued to practice her new tantrum routine with us and at her daycare for the next two weeks.  We were gravely concerned that we broke her.  With the jungle.

 

 

But look at that photo.  There's no doubt that it was worth it.  Stupendous views, incredible weather, cave exploring, family swims, iguanas, and great food aside; being with your family for four days without phones or 3G was both relaxing and stimulating.  I highly recommend it.  And there's nothing so bonding as hunching over pre-loaded 'febrile seizures' iPhone pages by flashlight with your partner; knowing that the road to the village is washed out anyways.  It's not good times in the moment, but in ten years- well...  It might be an endearing memory by then.

 

Stay tuned for Part II- the Beach.  There's considerably less flu in that post.