Monday, June 20, 2011

Just a little something I prepared earlier...

An unusual burst of midday energy made me do this:

This wee project required paint, painter's tape, a brush, and some double-sided tape. And of course some chalk. I purchased the board in one of those dollar stores that smell funny. The original frame was a boring pine colour, hence the dire need to re-paint it white. The rest? Piece of cake. Easy peasy. Yes, you can call me Martha....

The little quote was not a midday stroke of genius. I stole it from some wall decal website. Sue me. (Actually, please don't. Consider it flattery.) The minute I laid eyes on those words, I knew it had to take pride of place in Sticky Baby's room. It is him down to a T!

You likey?

As he grows up, I intend to change the 'mumma message'. When he is 12, I might write something along the lines of, "Yo tween..youre attitude is totally not toasting my bagel. Change it or your father's foot is going to land dangerously close to your butt". Ahhh, so many uses!

Anyhow, Sticky Baby's room is slowly coming together. Another little project or two and it should be ready for the big reveal...

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Love letter

Well, It's about time for a letter to the fruit of my loins, (one day when you're, like, 16 and feral, you will want to vomit at those words. Suck it up teen-boy! Mama and Papa made rompy-pomp and consequently bore the most beautiful piece of fruit known to man-kind. There!)

Ok, so you're 21 months old. You're nearly 2 bubba! TWO!  I find myself in stitches at least once a day, rollicking with laughter at your antics. You are so incredibly funny. You find joy and excitement in the smallest of things. You remind me of the simplicity and wonder of life. The core of our humanity. Love and laughter.

You are a human parrot. You will repeat any word we throw at you. "Barbecue", we will say. "Ba-qu-qu" you will confidently belt out. "Gorgeous", I will throw at you. "Gooorg-is", you will coo. Daddy will say, "Basketball". You will echo, "Ba-ket-ball". AH! Is there anything better than hearing you speak? I think not.  The other morning, you surprised us with your very first sentence - "Kick the ball". You really are your father's son.

At night, when I put you to bed, you demand I sing you an impressive repertoire of nursery rhymes. "Row Row?" you ask, extending your arms in a rowing motion. And then, "Pie-pie" as you attempt the Incy Wincy Spider action. Followed by "Baaa-baaaaaaa" in your best bleating sound. I melt. And I stand there, rendition after rendition of 'Row your Boat' and 'ABC', more in love with you with every verse I sing.

You have discovered your father's passion for all things cars, remote controls, bikes and machines. Almost every hour on the hour you will ask me for your '"Fixit", which is the house-hold screwdriver. You just want to fix whatever you can - the door knobs, your bean bag, your leaky sippy cup, the neighbour's cat. You imitate your father sooooo much! And don't get me started about your cars and "Mo-to-mikes". When Daddy bought you your first slot car set the other day, well, weren't you the happiest little boy alive! Mind you, Daddy isn't quite ready to let go of the controls yet, so the best you can do is watch the cars whiz by and occasionally lunge at the tracks!

You're really starting to enjoy a few television shows here and there. Your favourite of all is "Giggle and Hoot", a terrific blue owl and his best friend Jimmy. If you could crawl into the TV set to  kiss them, you would. "Hooty, hooty!" you call out! I think I know what kind of birthday cake I'll make for your 2nd birthday....

You dance like no one's watching, which is a phrase we adults try and live by. Well, my little boy, you are my daily reminder to let loose and release my inhibitions! You stomp and you spin and you wave your little hands in no particular rhythm, but it all makes sense to you.

Your language skills are quite remarkable. You understand absolutely everything we are saying. Your father and I have even reached that parental milestone of s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g things out. That's how switched on you are with words. And your confidence is astounding! I could ask you whether you agreed with the new tax being introduced next financial year, and you will look me straight in the eyes and say, 'Zheah'. That's how you say 'Yeah'. 'Zheah'. It's going to catch on.

You FREAK us out with your counting skills. Papa can start counting, "1, 2" and you will pipe up in the next room whilst playing with your blocks, "3". Your daddy and I couldn't believe it the first time it happened. And it keeps happening! All the way up to 8! You'll interject with your favourite numbers here and there. Genius boy.

You love to kiss everything. You love Bob, the neighbour's cat, you kiss him until he runs out of the yard. You love your stuffed animals and toys. Where there only used to be 'Ra-Ra' the blue rabbit in your cot, there now is 'Ba-Ba', the white sheep and occasionally 'Papy' the golliwog. Crowded house.

And to top off these past 24 months, you have finally, FINALLY evolved into a cuddle-bug. You follow me around saying, "Cuddo, Cuddo mummy". I die.

You are obsessed with your grandparents. You have given each of them quite unique names. No help from us, this is allllllll you:


Yep, special!

You continue to love balloons and bubbles, slippery slides and cherry tomatoes. Thanks to Po, you have discovered the delight of chocolate. No going back now...

Dropping you at school on Tuesdays and Wednesdays is so exciting. You are in love with your teacher, Nathalie, saying "Nathie" almost every day! Your little friends call you 'Wemy' because they too cannot pronounce 'Rs'. Too cute for words.

My heart is full every time I look at your olive skin, your golden hair, those blue eyes, and that cheeky grin.

Bring on the big 2nd birthday! It's going to be a doozy!

Monday, June 13, 2011

Separated at birth?

I guess that makes Papadada 'The Skipper' and me, 'Ginger'? (or Mrs Howell on a bad day...)

Note: Picked up that little white hat at Target for $1.01! Bargain of the millennium!

Thursday, June 9, 2011


This evening, whilst I was preparing dinner, Sticky Baby decided that Bob, the neighbour's cat, needed a dose of Baby Nurofen..

Drawing back the syring-y thing.....
(he grabbed it out of the top drawer, sneaky bugger)

Aiming in the whisker vicinity....

"Me not meant to medicate feline with liquid paracetamol? Really mummy?"

 I love this phase of toddler-hood. Mimicking and parroting galore. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, right?


Cross my heart, they weren't like this when we put him to bed. Hulk baby must've grown half an inch in the course of 12 hours and woke up busting a big toe out of his snazzy red onesie.

Perhaps I should consider buying him one of these suits for next Halloween...

Heck yes!

Tuesday, June 7, 2011


You know when you need to laugh so much, that you press your lips together so hard that your eyes start to sting?

That was me this morning.

Sticky Baby was pushing around one of his plastic trucks. He came up on the couch to show me that the tray of the truck can lift up. He then looked at me and said "casse", which means 'broken' in french. I explained to him that it wasn't broken, that it was simply a feature of the truck. Still confused, he looked back at the truck, said 'broken' again and then.....


My eyes bulged out of my head.

So he said, this time with a question mark of hesitation,


And then in a really cutesy high pitched tone,


Look, the context of the word is perfect. His truck is broken in his eyes. Fuck!

But I think he's actually trying to say truck. I HOPE HE'S TRYING TO SAY TRUCK!

Gee.Whiz. I think it's time for mama to curb her cussing.

Have any of you had something similar happen?

My friend was telling me the other day that her 3yr old, whilst at the doctor, pointed to a framed photo the doc had of himself with a giant fish on a fishing expedition. Her 3yr old, clear as day, said "Fuck me mum, look at that big fishy"!


Hahahahahahha! Out of the mouth of babes.....

The Jesus Syndrome

Look at that, Papadada has a disciple....

Foot washing is back in, people.

I must say, it was my turn last night, and it makes for the most relaxing end-of-day treatment.

Cheers to that, Sticky Baby!