The Birthday Bear

Here's what the bear got up to on his birthday...


But NEVER FEAR... dun dun DAHHHH... Monkeys V's Robots is a GO for Saturday 20th. Come hell or high water. I can't wait to show you guys the STUFF. (I have a squillion cupcake flags all ready to go and banners and bunting and yadda yadda yadda!)

Hey, stupid hats aside; the sight of my sweetie's hands on the bear's funny little almost-bald head just makes my heart chirp like a happy bird. I really am a lucky.

It's ART baby! ART!

OK. Time for something funner than that last post. Like... one of these maybe:



It's a magnetic picture frame for the fridge. So Teddy's abstract art can be properly appreciated! This one is called "Blue Dog Reclining With Grapefruit".
The full tute is over at weebabystuff if'n you want to take a look.

Kid art slays me, I like the random scribbles that Teddy does a LOT but I LOVE LOVE LOVE drawings by kids who are a bit older (the other one on the fridge is by my little brother David) It's like being given a glimpse of how they see the world and it's magic.

Castle Awesome Update

As promised, the update on Castle Awesome.
So far I have got the inside all sewn up, some plastic cut up and a drawbridge made.
And Ivy, I have some ivy.
Interesting fact, my sister has the baddest embroidery skills in town. She totally totally does.

ME? Not so muchly, my embroidery has a touch of the maximum security prison about it; actually, maybe cons are awesome at the embroidery on account of all that free time. Who knows.
Anyway, here's the progress:

Felt? It'll Never Withstand the MIGHTY Trebuchet!*

You guys can keep a secret right?
Want a sneak preview of what I'm making my bear for Christmas? O do say yes! 'cause A'ly I'm dying to tell someone and two'ly if you have any super-clever ideas now would be the time to pony them up.

I'm making a felt castle. With a drawbridge and turrets! I snaffled the idea from here (isn't she clever? Yay for her!)

My version is a bit bigger, and instead of using cardboard I'll be using plastic, (because I hate the environment, though ironically, the felt is made of recycled plastic bottles).

I'm basing the basic shape on Bolton Castle, which I have renamed CASTLE AWESOME in my head. It's a late 14th century stone quadrangle fortress and it looks just like a castle should.
See:


So far mine looks like this:
Um, if you squint you can think of it as a post-siege castle. Heh.
But come back tomorrow, I'll be posting a picture a day as I go along. What I have made is THIS fellow:


He is Fred, the majestic charger. And he's MAJESTIC dammit and pose-able! He has a pipe cleaner skellington. Eventually he will also have tack. and eyeballs.
He's all my own design (could you tell, on accounta the bizarro?) and If you too have need of a majestic charger I'll be throwing together a tute over the next few days and if I'm feeling racy there will be a PDF.

*Such a nerd.

Say what, kid?

I just wanted to talk a bit about how my kid communicates and how totally freaking hilarious I find it.
When Teddy was tiny I would sign to him (yeah, I'm that mama, feel free to punch me). We're not talking deep philosophical conversation here, just the basic stuff, bottle, hungry, drink, sleep, down. So, with a few words he got the sign first and then couldn't be bothered to learn the spoken word for AGES (the lazy bum).

Now he uses the words he knows strung together in different ways to describe different stuff. (Instead of learning new words... the lazy bum)
Like...

"CUP", cup can mean "hey, can you pass me my cup" or it can be used to describe ANY body of water; from puddles to the lake to the antarctic ocean on Planet Earth ("peng CUP!").
"Cup" and an open-handed pat on the head means "dude, it's hella rainy out here". A "FFFFISH cup" is an aquarium, naturally.

"Down" means up. Teddy will hop from one foot to another pretending to climb up your leggie and repeating downdowndown. Until you're all "Bear? Do you mean up?" then he nods vigorously and says "UP", but it's ALWAYS down first. Always.

"Bum" (which is totally my favorite) can either be a tail, say a squirrel's, horsie's, Dilly's or a dinosaur's, he's not fussy. Or it can be his dipes; horrifyingly enough he recognises the Pampers logo and nods "bum" sagely at it. Bum can also mean "my bum needs changing, but instead of letting you change it I'm going to run away squealing, could you chase me please?".

"Bag", firstly there's the obvious, bag means bag, but more bizarre is the fact that Daddy goes to "bag" every weekday. Teddy will remind me a few times during the day that "daddy bag". I guess because my sweetie takes his bag to work everyday? But really, who knows. Here's the bear wearing the daddy bag in question.

The way the bear talks now kills me. It really does. I love it so much I almost don't want him to get to big boy speech. But APPARENTLY purposely delaying your child's development for your own amusement is one of those "serial killer" breeding things. BOO. I can't shut him in closets or dress him in girl clothes either. So disappointing.

Super ! Awesome! Magic!

I have been making STUFF, after ages of not making ANYTHING.
Stuff like a ridiculous t-shirt for my bear.

Our Dollar Store had Lands End t-shirts for $2. They're all thick and lovely so I snaffled a couple with a view to doing some freezer pencil stenciling (heaven forbid my kid wear a plain t-shirt). But then I spotted some iron-on letter transfers. I was all "AH HA!" right there in the store, causing people to edge away from me slowly.

Wondering what his shirt says? It says:

SUPER
AWESOME
MAGIC

of course! Yes it's silly, but it cracks be up every time I see it. And dude, magic IS super awesome. Also it 's a nice time saver, when folks are all
"Hey guy! How you doing?"
Teddy can point to the applicable answer.

baby-nesia

We were at Teddy's doctor's office yesterday, he was having his 18 months shots (um, yep, tiny bit late. I suck) and the waiting room was LOUSY with tiny pink parcels of cute, or 'ovary bait' as I like to think of them.
Sweet little squishies ranging from 2 weeks to 6 months all kitted out in pink Baby Gap. Oodles of them.
I had forgotten.
Forgotten how completely irresistible tiny-baby noises are. From the mewling lip-smacking of the brand spanking new ones to the delighted-with-the-world chuckles of five and six months old. And I'm pretty sure (based on no scientific evidence whatsoever) that the little blighters give off some kind of give-me-loves-I'm-awesome pheromones.

I had to come home and look at this, call it aversion therapy if you will:
Hoo Yah! There it is!
Are you wondering "Dude? Dude, what is up with your lips?"

I bet you were, and let me tell you, in detail and at some length.
Pre-eclampsia is what is up with my lips, gaining 35 lbs in three weeks is what is up with my lips. All of it on my face. I didn't even know that lips could get fat, but yep, apparently they can. If you poked me I dented then sprung back, like a water bed.

As lousy as I looked, I felt worse. This picture was taken at 7.15 pm on the day I was induced; I had gone for my 37 week check-up at 11.30 that morning. I'd had like 7 or 8 different sets of hands up my foo foo, I was in a room on the high risk pregnancy ward and I was having teeny weeny contractions. And it was still a better day than the day before when it looked like I had another three weeks of the suckiest time of my life still to go. Also, have I mentioned the puking?

So yah, pregnancy. Not my favorite.
And yet.
And yet...

Parent Fail

'specially not for this guy:

We have a set of knives. Five of them. Big knife. Little knife. Medium knife. Bread Knife and Horror Movie knife (it's huge and I'm afraid to use it, because my fingers aren't made of titanium and also it gives me the willies) Which I'm sure you'll agree is fascinating. We have knives. You know who shouldn't have knives?
Babies.

So, I was in the kitchen making lunch, The Bear was in there trying to hustle cookies out of me.
"COOOOk". He said and hopped from one foot to another.
"COOKCOOKCOOKCOOK" he pointed at the cupboard where the cookies live. (In case I had forgotten, on account of how he thinks I'm a stupid)
"No cookies 'til after lunch Bear" See, I can be responsible.
Hop hop wave hop.
"Cook?"
I shook my head. Teddy mumbled "Cook" under his breath then reached up and scooted his chubby little paw along the counter, grabbing the first thing that he reached. Which just happened to be Big Knife.

He probably had hold of it for all of 0.6 of a second before I ripped it from his grasp, making the kind of noise only dogs can hear.
A split second was enough, enough to make me want to barf a bit and to indelibly sear the image of my tooled up toddler onto my brain. I needed a sit down and a cup of tea.

Lesson learned, put the knives where Teddy can't reach them. Which really, who doesn't know that?
Where was I going with this? Oh wait I remember, to Parent Fail, where I can feel better about my own hideous lapses in judgement by judging others. Swing by if you're looking to feel a little lousier about the world.

What Works...

I refuse to weigh in on the whole stay-at-home parent versus go-out-to-work debate. When I say "debate" I mean the scary, politically polarized, vitriolic and mean-spirited brawl that surrounds the issue.
I firmly believe that what works best for you works best for your kid, that there really isn't necessarily a better option, there's only a better option for you.
See? No judgment here.

Which is why I'm so pissed off about what happened today,
As we got on the lift the mother of one of the other kids who lives in our building asked me if I was at home with Teddy. I barely had time to nod and didn't get the chance to add that I work from home before she ROLLED HER EYES and said,

"Oh, well good for you, I couldn't do it. I'd die of boredom."

I might be over-reacting here but I was pretty insulted (actually I wanted to punch her in the kidney). We have never even spoken before and I was blindsided by her backhanded snideness. Who says to a complete stranger, "Wow, so you must be really dull or no wait, maybe you're just stupid!?!"

Being a parent is the best unpaid, 24 hour-a-day, manual labour job I've ever had. I've been teeth-grindingly frustrated, infuriated, infatuated, moved to howling fits of tears, had moments of gut clenching terror, laughed my ass off and occasionally felt guilty and overwhelmed. But bored? Not so much.

I wish wish wish that I had sprung a scathing comeback, something like,
"Oh, so your kid is boring? Yeah that must suck".
Or,
"Well yeah, I guess it really depends on how good a parent you are "
Hell even,
"Bite me, bitch"
Would have been better than opening and closing my mouth then smiling over gritted teeth and feeling lousy.

I suspect we won't be making any play dates.

The image above is from here, and actually it's attached to a really interesting post.

No Sleep Til - Brooklyn

The Bear is switching to a one nap schedule; which seems crazy to me. A morning where you get up, have a spot of breakfast, play with toys (or have snuggles with your sweetie), read a few stories (or the paper) then go back to sleep sounds like the BEST MORNING EVER to me. But apparently not to Teddy.

The thing about any new system is that you need to work the kinks out of it, and today has been all uh, 'kinked' up.

We went to a singing class at the Y (because it's fun to be judged by your peers), then we took the pooch for a walk before lunch, just like always. Off we set, Dilly and Mocha, Teddy and me, stomp stomp stomp to Allen Gardens (because you can never have too many awkward encounters with shouting drunks). Me keeping up a running commentary of all the things that Teddy points "WHaaaT?" at.

"Hey look, a truck, digger, ball, bird, streetcar, truck, bird...." conspicuous silence.
"Bear? Are you asleep?"
Blink blink blink.
"Crap"
So we turned tail, racing for home as Teddy's eyelids got heavier and heavier,
"you stay awake Bear, we have to feed you lunch"
Blink blink CLOSED. I gave his cart a little jiggle.
"Hey stay awake. Stay awake stay awake, just a few more minutes"
Yawn.
"BEAR. You stay awake, at least until we can change your pants"
blink. sigh. closed eyes. whuffle.

So, no. No to a clean dipe. No to lunch. Yes to whuffling sleepy noises. When we got home he didn't even twitch as I dragged him out of his cart, and popped him in bed. Out cold.
For all of 20 minutes, then he woke up starving and wet and pissed at the world (and still tired). Like I said, kinks.

Until we get it sorted I am going to be the brunette you see racing for home, cruelly jiggling my sleepy kid and yodeling "No Sleep. No Sleep... NO SLEEP TIL ..... BROOKLYN"

The Plaza We Ain't...

VERSUS:

Today we had an Eloise moment (You know, the books about the eponymous 6 year old who lives at the swanky New York Plaza Hotel? and is kind of a jerk?)

We were coming in from waddling the dog around the block. Now, The Bear has decided that holding mummy's hand is not cool (unless of course there are shouting crackheads or friendly elderly people, to both of which Teddy reacts with glassy eyed horror. It's pretty embarrassing, but I digress).

As we got into the building I let go of the squirmy little hand I had been wrangling the whole time we were out. And the kid was gone like THAT. The flash fast. He practically had a sonic boom. Which would have been fine if the elevator had not just arrived and disgorged some folks.
People (stupid stupid people) hop out of the way for a winsome, waddling 18 month old (today!) fellow in a way they don't for a chubby thirty year old woman dragging a dog. So Teddy trotted through the crowd and on to the lift.
As the doors were closing.
"TEDDY NOOOOO!"
I shoved my way past a couple of well dressed fellows, barely stopping to wonder "Dude. Argyle? in August?"
And threw myself in front of the doors, waving like a wild thing. The doors are supposed to be motion sensitive, but they really really aren't. I was practically doing Riverdance as I tried to scoop up Teddy to stop him from pressing the only button he can reach - the alarm, and drag the dog through the doors, while not being crushed like a grape.
We made it.
Teddy blinked up at me, grinning.
"TEDDY" Imagine STERN voice, and at some volume"YOU MUSTN'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN"
His bottom lip wobbled.
"it's DANGEROUS."
his eyes teared up and small eeeeeeeei sound escaped him, and I felt like the world's worst parent. Though I know that his tears are of the "Oh no don't be mad at meeeeee, you still love me right? How could you be mad at this face?" variety as opposed to the "Oh, I am so contrite. I will never give my mama that kind of heart fluttering run around again".
Also, If I ever run into that Eloise kid with her elevator hopping shenanigans. I'm going to give her a swift kick in the pants.

Eloise poster from here.

If Hunter S Made Baby Clothes...

My Sweetie is an awesome daddy, seriously, awesome. He is funny, patient and kind and he totally takes joy in the job; BUT occasionally he dresses our only child like Hunter S. Thompson

See? ( "I told you not to stop here, this is BAT country")

And this is a good day. My sweetie describes these outfits as "Dapper". I think they look a tiny bit crazy, and by "a tiny bit" I mean completely.

"Um, Sweetie?"
"YAH?" grinning and wrangling a pair of bright orange socks onto the Bear's feet.
"Are you really going to put him in that?"
"YAH!"
Then, addressing Teddy as he yanks the kid's pants up past his nipples, "Looking good there fella... LOOK-ing good"
Under my breath, "I think my eyeballs are bleeding"
Out loud, "That is definitely a LOOK. Hey Sweetie, just out of curiosity, were you ever tested for colour blindness?".

Sure I could just say "no way is he wearing that!" but even the loopiest outfits are chosen with care (I just don't necessarily get the logic behind them). My Sweetie takes so much joy in these sartorial shenanigans that there's no way I would deny him them. And he is, after all, the other half of this parenting team. I know that Teddy is lucky to have a daddy who wants to be involved in the little things, even if some days that means that he looks like he's about to go on a road trip in the Red Shark with a crazed Samoan lawyer.