We thought we were smart.
We had strategically booked our kitchen renovation to take place when we were out of the province for 10 days on our glorious cross country summer vacation, while my parents (who live with us, remember?) stuck around and acted as Project Managers. Perfect. Done.
Nothing like shucking off responsibilities to the 'rents and bailing... Phrases like, "Goodbye, see yah, wouldn't wanna be yah" come to mind. I'm such an asshole. And I guess the Universe agreed...
Because our trip plans got kiboshed (more on that later) and we ended up spending our 10-day vacation living through our kitchen renovations.
Or maybe I should re-phrase that.
We spent our 10-day vacation living through hell.
Hot, sticky, dusty, HELL. It was too hot to play outside, and too dangerous to play inside. And then it rained, and rained and rained. You can only make so many trips to Home Depot to "play" before the employees start giving you the evil eye.
Thankfully we were able to make the most of it, and get away for a few days here and there. We went camping, we went to the zoo, we went to a cottage. So it wasn't all bad.
And I suppose it is a sort of right-of-passage to have to live through your own kitchen renovation, right? So that you really appreciate and love every last square inch of your new space because you've been "dining room camping" with hot-plates and a microwave for the past 3...4...10 weeks?
I do have an unnatural love for my new fridge and sparkly quartz countertops...
I find myself sitting at our new kitchen island, gazing longingly at my gas stove. I think I'm making my husband jealous.
But, we made it, and our reno is 95% finished. We just need a backsplash...
And through this renovation process, Cole has become even more obsessed with power tools. He constantly walks around the kitchen with his toddler toy drill and "fixes" things. When he bends over, his ass-crack appropriately pokes out of the back of his diaper. A true tradesperson.
(If that last comment is offensive, I'm sorry. Doctors have messy handwriting, and tradespeople show their ass-cracks. Okay, maybe that's called a STEREOTYPE but, at least I was non-gender specific when stating the job title. I get points for that, right?)
This time last year I was holding an infant who was just learning how to roll over, and who didn't sleep longer than 2 hours at a time. Now, at 15 months old, my son can run, climb and kick a ball...but still only sleeps for two hours at a time some nights (insert giant yawn). How has my little newborn turned into a giant toddler so quickly? Some days I catch a glimpse of myself holding my son and think, "Wow, I'm a Mom!"
It's a pretty incredible realization, and it's truly been an amazing journey.
Sure, I feel like the most sleep deprived person on the planet sometimes — but I know that's not true. It can't be true, can it?!?
Well, I know it's not because I've asked other moms that I've met through online communities like Mommyville.ca and as a blogger for YummyMummyClub.ca.
"How long does your baby sleep for? What do you do to help your baby sleep? Any tricks, tips or suggestions? How about a giant virtual hug?"
I've also loved my various online communities because I can ask other parenting questions too:
"What solid food should I introduce first? What do I do when he has a fever? Is this (insert picture) a rash to be worried about?" Time after time I'm so thankful these communities exist.
And now, since I'm a resident expert (at 15 months into the gig) I'm helping other new moms and welcoming them into the club with open arms. I'm happy to offer up advice (when asked) and help steer them in the right direction — offering them support and resources (and giant hugs and glasses of wine, when needed.)
So it's with these same incredibly toned mom arms that I welcome YMC's newest Playtex Moms:
I will still be blogging this year about my favourite Playtex products, but no longer the ones for infants *tear* because my little boy *blows nose loudly* is growing up so fast!!! We're in full toddler mode over at the Warman residence. So Gurpreet, Hailey, and Tanya, I'll leave you with the Drop-Ins, the Playtex infant feeding spoons and the Diaper Genie (I won't lie, I'm still using that. Potty training is on my list of things to do sometime in the next few months. Okay...year...).
It's with great happiness that I pass you three Mamas the ceremonial torch (aka Playtex Infant Feeding Spoon) and officially welcome you to the club!
So enjoy your little wiggly babies while they're still small enough not to wander off and find electrical outlets...
The Former Miss Playtex,
No one likes to wake up at 5am.
If you say, "I like waking up at 5am! I really do!" I'm going to assume that you also like papercuts and food poisining. But if you're a reasonably sane person, I can pretty much guarantee that you don't like waking up at this ungodly hour.
In fact, you'd probably rather someone punch you in the face repeatedly than wake up at 5am. No? Just me?
I seriously think I might take the face punching...
Alas. I am a mother of a son who thinks that 5am is a perfectly wonderful time to rise.
5am is a fabulous time to sit straight up in bed with incredible alertness, and chirp loudly, "Ma ma ma! Da da da! Na na na! Stay! Fan! Ball! Eyes! Ears!"
This wretched time of day is apparently the best time to recite one's entire vocabulary list. Loudly. With a smile. While jumping on the bed, and occasionally falling to head-butt you.
And despite my best suggestions, "Want to play 'let's go back to sleep'?" He somehow always thinks that kicking a ball around or going outside is a better idea.
At least I don't need to set my alarm clock...
See people? Optimisim. My cup of triple shot espresso is half full. Half fucking full at 5-fucking-o'clock.