Ch 44: Don’t mention the C word

As we find ourselves thrown amongst the trials and tribulations of toddlerdom, dear husband and I have recently found ourselves dealing with the most random and unexplained challenges neither of us could have ever predicted nor possibly avoided.

At any hour of the day or night we find ourselves scratching our heads with unexplained and perplexed looks on our fatigued faces muttering nothing more than...

Wha? Hang on, say what? Did he just..?
No, he didn’t. Yes he did.
Ohh, what now. Not again. Really?
Bahhh!

Let me fill you in.

Firstly, picking dry snot from your nose and subtly wiping it on your mother’s neck is not cool Toddler B. Not cool at all. You could at least eat it like most other two year old boys. Or like your father.

Secondly, waking at 3.00am, wailing then heaving uncontrollably whilst running away from comforting cuddles and hiding in various corners of the house does not make for happy parents in the morning. Then acting as if nothing had happened whilst you inhale your vegemite toast a few hours later does not fool us. Neither does your breaming cheesy grin and big wide eyes. Dammit. Yawn.

Thirdly, we are so thrilled you love sharing with your favourite pet in the world, Buddy Dog. But offering him some of your raison toast, dangling the fluffy sugary bread and sultanary goodness over his drooling mouth, letting him lick the baked delight yet then pulling it away and devouring it yourself is also not cool. And very unhygienic and makes for one unhappy and rather peeved off Buddy Dog.

That aside there are also lots of fun moments. I’m sure I will write about them all one day. Really, I will. Once I wipe the snot off from all my clothes.

One slight issue we could never predict and still are yet to accommodate for is an obsession like no other. Sure, there’s been The Wiggles, bottles of milk, sultanas was up there for a while and of course his favourite comforter, Flat Teddy.

Yet this one has hit us for six. In a big, comforting, sugary, yellowish and sometimes banana custardy kind of way.

Yes. I said it. The C word.

Custard.

CUSSSS-TEEERRRD.

Damn you custard!! We used to be friends!Your once off treat for ‘something different’ and ‘fun’ has turned out to be a dairy infused nightmare!

Picture this.

2.00am: heaving child, distressed, upset possibly from a bad dream. Who knows? We sure as hell still don’t have a clue! Cuddles not working, won’t settle down. Wriggles out from cuddle. AP and dear husband exchange glances. Tired, over it kind of glances. Our eyes follow Toddler B.

Toddler wraps himself around the fridge door. Heaving. Still. Wipes tears from face. Wails ‘Ca ca’. No. Gawd No. No Custard. No more. Toddler B Screams as if world has suddenly fallen apart. ‘CAAA CAAA’. Noooo. I said No. It’s all gone, remember that litre of the stuff you inhaled this afternoon? It’s all gone!

Ok, a litre might be a slight exaggeration…but you know. I’ve got a tale to write here ok?

Toddler B throws himself on floor. Continues world ending behaviour, desperate for the yellow stuff.

2.53am: AP: ‘just give him the fricken custard!! I don’t care anymore, I need to sleeeep! Dear husband succumbs, settles Toddler B with a satchel of Heinz Baby Yellow Sugar Stuff with Banana. Child sucks on packet happy as a pig in…umm custard? Finishes and falls asleep within minutes.

Dear husband collapsed on couch, Buddy Dog relishing in having the bed all to himself, AP slumped in kitchen cursing the day she decided to bring a bit a variety, a bit of something different, a bit of custard home for the little angel which inevitably turned him into a monster. A monster with a super cute green dressing gown! Nawwww. And his pyjama pants are too big for him. Nawwww again!

 

 

Right, snap out of it. Where were we.

Ah yes. In terms of our custard dependency recovery process, we are still in the early stages of weaning him off the hard stuff.

We are not allowed to even say the C word in our house.

We use cryptic language and even spelling it out has its risks.

If Toddler B is rewarded with such a very special treat on a weekend, a small packet of C-U-S-T-A-R-D may be unexpectantly found by some sort of custard fairy, Humphrey B Bear fairy or the Easter Bunny..Fairy..? Regardless, it is very very special.

When doing the weekly grocery shop, as we make our way through the diary section I deliberately distract my junior addict by waving cartons of milk, packets of cheese and start doing a wiggles inspired trolley dance and sing-along down aisle eight. Much to the delight of my fellow customers.

What is she on?! They must be thinking.

I tell them - custard. It’s custard I tells ya.

Don’t go near the stuff, it only ends in tears..yet great for strong bones and teeth.

Enjoy. In moderation.

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Ch 27: the joys of breastfeeding

That would be slice number three this afternoon!

Say wha? You thought this was going to be another article about how breast is best?

Sorry to disappoint.

BuRp!

Now where's that whipped cream..

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Ch 23: What's for dinner Mum?

Asleep. Morning nap time.

In one week the little master will be seven months old.

But by the way he is devouring three meals day, plus feeds, you would think he was 17.

Aren't teenage boys, not seven month olds, meant to eat you out of the house?

I swear I caught him the other day hovering at the fridge, in his new Dunlop Volleys (cuute!), opening the door, sighing then slamming it shut muttering 'there's never anything good to eat...grumble grumble.'

Bah!

Not quite. However he has managed to master the art of tapping his little boy hands on his feeding chair table demanding more potato, more pumpkin and yes please I'll have some apple for dessert.

Burp.

I should be thankful, he hasn't been a fussy eater, has had no allergic reactions and he is a very content and happy little man.

I am thankful.

Besides, I get to dress him in his fabulous Super Mario inspired feeding bib! Joy!

(reliving the early 1990s playing our very hip Super Nintendo. Ah yes, Mario, Luigi, Yoshi, Bowser..*tear*)

Anyway, the bib is a necessity..pumpkin does stain you know..

So apart from one small but painful biting episode, all things in the food department are cruising along in leaps and bounds.

The downside – the countless hours of peeling, washing, chopping, steaming, blending, freezing and finally defrosting baby sized portions of fruit and veggie goodness. And you wonder what I do all day..*rolls eyes*

A couple of small items to help me along the way – hello Avent Steam Blender and many thanks to AussieFarmers Direct for their amazing box of goodies. Love!

Righto enough jibber jabber, I'm off to peel some carrots..in my Yoshi slippers.

Asleep.

Ah, actually make that awake. Timing..

And yes, I really do have Yoshi slippers.

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Eleven

Awake

It's mid afternoon and I am knackered.

Tired and grumpy from another unsuccessful city lunch trip.

That's it now, I've banned city lunch dates indefinitely.

The plan was to meet three dear work friends with one other bubba for a lunch I literally dream about.

Think – xiao long bao, chilli wontons, chinese broccoli with oyster sauce. You guessed it. My great food love (second only to the chocolate lamington) hutong dumplings.

Buurrrrpp! Oops, excuse me!

A good run into the city, including a nap for the little master. Great, but expensive car park across the road from the restaurant. On time (actually we were early), happy baby dishing out the smiles left right and centre, hungry mum salivating at the prospect of chowing down a ward of dumpling delight faster than you can say 'another serve of wontons with hot chilli sauce please'.

I had my dumpling shoes on and we were ready to rumble.

Until he cracked it.

Ah yes, nap in the car not quite long enough. Restaurant noisy. Busy lunch hour. Restaurant heating decided to pretend we were in the middle of the Swiss Alps. Either that or staff had a bet as to who would succumb to the heat first and strip off to their bare essentials. Or maybe not. I'm just being silly. Think the heat has affected me..

We ordered as soon as we arrived. No menus needed thanks, been coming here for years.

Lunch served. Wonton goodness floating through the air.

Me – in the stairwell comforting and rocking the little screamer off to sleep. But there's too much to look at. Too many noises and smells to take note of. I don't want to sleep. I like whinging and taking you away from your precious dumpling moment. And who can sleep in this heat anyway?!

The dumplings were cold by the time one hit my lips. The xiao long bao was too awkward to devour with the little master asleep in my arms. Wasn't keen on attempting to scoff it in one hit at the risk of choking on the soup filling – I've done it before, without a baby in my arms, and believe me, not a great look.

I settled for a couple of wontons and some mince beef with noodles.

Asleep..I think. Silence is good. Silence is great.

Silence means jack. Eyes wide open.

As I ponder on another failed lunch date – an expensive one at that too. Think $48 for less than two hours parking in the city. I know I know, stupid me. But unable to bring a pram into the tiny restaurant I had little choice but to park as close as possible. The logistical joys I tellsya! 

Anyway, as I ponder on my lighter pocket, drawn eyes, overtired baby who won't drop off now, and unsatisfied dumpling hungry tummy, I have made an executive decision.

No more city runs at lunchtime. I don't care whose birthday it is, how long it has been since we have caught up, who is leaving work or how good the dumplings are.

Our whole day has gone down the drain (closely followed by our cold leftover wontons we had to leave at the table..). We are tired, slightly embarrassed, frustrated and a tad hungry. Not to mention flat broke. Did I mention the parking?!

If you can't compromise and meet me for a quick coffee and cake mid morning, well tough wontons. I'm going to have to do something I've had trouble doing for the past 30 years.





























No.
Sorry that doesn't suit us.
Too hard basket.
He sleeps at that time.
Yes, I'm saying no.

Ok?

Besides, dumplings are sooo 2011.

Cake is much more 2012.

Especially chocolate lamingtons.

Asleep. Joy.

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Five

Asleep

Awake

Agrh, hadn't even put a word down yet!

Then again, this is quite timely...

Yesterday was a clear example of how sleep absolutely rules every second of our world.

It was an early start at 6am. Rather than greeting the little master with a joyful grin and baby talk of 'did you sleep well my little angel??' He was met with cries of 'Noooo, really? Whyyy? Cawffee? Please! Somebody!'.

Note – he did receive the cheesy grins once the caffeine had hit my bloodstream.

Silent

It was Friday and we were off to the city to get our adult conversation fix with my workmates. A team lunch where I could catch up on all the goss and handball the little monster, oh sorry, master, off to his adoring aunts who fuss over his every move, smile and bottom burps.

It was a 12.30pm start at a fabulous restaurant on Bourke Street. Lunch selection already pre-ordered, car park organised, high heels on, ready to rumble.

Easy peasy right?

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Silent still, too scared to go in and check in case I rev him up again. Come'on go to sleep..

Oh I can't help myself, in I go.

Asleep, just. Better bang this one out.

I won't bore you with the minute details of the morning and what really went down from 6.00am –12.30pm in our household.

The result was not only missing lunch but then abandoning a secondary plan to pop into the restaurant for a coffee only as we were going to be arriving too late.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This then progressed to skipping the lunch and the coffee completely and finding myself out the front of Parliament House rocking the master to sleep in his pram. Without a workmate or mushroom and ricotta gnocchi in sight. Or a lunchtime glass of wine for that matter.

On a learning note, amazing what a bit of sun glare can do to force the eyes to close^. *cough*

The culprit of such a disastrous late arrival was clear – 50 minutes of fighting his mid morning sleep then waking up after 15 minutes only to drop off again for a full 45 minutes. Little bugger. Was still asleep when we should have been perusing the wine menu.

But that's ok (well actually it wasn't at the time, I'm being nice). Arriving well over an hour late, dessert being served but with the majority of my team heading back to the morgue, sorry office, I managed to laugh it off all unbeknown to the sleeping master in the pram.

“Wha? I've missed lunch? Really? Oh darn!” *laughs it off, rolls the eyes* - you know the drill.

So yes, sleep cycles currently rule our world. For the greater good? In the long term yes. In the short term when it declares war on mum's adult time – not necessarily.

I did, however, manage to get my office gossip fix upon walking back to our workplace and his aunts quietly cooed over his beautiful sleeping face, thumb in his mouth, silent as a mouse sleeping style. He turns it on when it matters, of course.

All in all, we left happy. Hungry, but happy.

Asleep, still. Keep going little man.

Whilst he is still down, I might start preparing tonight's dinner. Have a hankering for a mushroom and ricotta gnocchi....

^Little master's vision not harmed, simply being facetious..sort of.

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