Ugh.

On Tuesday I posted "Happy happy me!" on my Facebook page. I hate to follow that up with "I'm not getting back out of bed until July" so I guess I'll bitch and moan here instead. Bad got kicked out of nursery school. I'm miserable.

Here's the thing. The nursery school is wonderful. It's right across the street, and it's owned and run by a couple that are (were?) our friends. They had a baby at the end of August and we were thrilled for them. They'd hired a wonderful teacher to cover the maternity leave, but because they live above the school we knew they'd be around a lot, and it really put our minds at ease.

We're idiots that way.

Bad's first day was great. They were amazed at his colouring - hey, I'm his mom, he comes by his talent naturally! Ha! They were all, "He did GREAT! We have no worries about him." But then it started to go downhill. He started crying for me, and they had a hard time engaging him. The thing was, as soon as I picked him up he was cheerful, and he'd talk happily about school and his friends. When the Princess was having a hard time at her first daycare, that distress carried over into her behaviour and disposition in the evenings and weekends. With Bad there was none of that, I wasn't really worried about him, because when he was with me he was his usual happy self.

Then one day they called me to pick him up. At 10:00. After barely 45 minutes of school. We brainstormed ideas. (Well, I brainstormed ideas and typed them up into a very polite letter.) We switched him from full days to half days to help him transition. And then. Yesterday. I dropped Bad off in his class and as I was leaving, one of the couple, let's call him Dick, pulled me into the kitchen and said, and I quote, "This is it. If he doesn't snap out of this after Friday that's it. We can not tolerate him any more." Excuse me?

You can't tolerate my child? I'm not saying he's perfect - his nickname isn't Bad for no reason....he's stubborn and willful and wild, but he's also smart and funny and talented and affectionate and wonderful. And it's not like he was hitting or biting the other children - he was crying for his mommy. He's TWO.

So. I've been crying for 36 hours. I'm angry and sad and my feelings are hurt. I'm defensive and confused. And really? There's nothing I can do. I can't rant and rave at these people, they live right across the street and I have to pass their house twice a day taking the Princess to school. Unless I take a ridiculously long detour, I pass their house going to the grocery store, the coffee shop, and the post office. Plus - I like them. I get that they're tired and sleep-deprived with a newborn, and I'm sure I'd get sick of listening to someone's child cry all day too - but here's the thing. I don't run a NURSERY SCHOOL. I don't get paid to do that. They do.

And make no mistake. They are the ones that failed Bad - not the other way around. And they are the ones that will ultimately lose out. But in the meantime? This is crappy, and I kind of hope their baby is colicky and cries for the next 3 months straight.

Underwear.

He's not completely there, but wow does he want to be.

Will the Bathroom Humour never end?

Gah! It's been 2 months since I've posted. Life has been crazy, happy, sad, full. I don't know if I'll ever catch up, but if anyone is still interested in our adventures, my 2-year old has an imaginary friend named POOP. Fifty times a day I have to listen to a story that begins, "My best friend POOP...." and ends with him slapping his forehead with the heel of his hand and laughing like he's just told the best joke EVER. Hubs laughs right along, but then he's still telling the same jokes and using the same lines as when we met 12 years ago. I'm doomed.

Garbage Picker

Our municipality is having a 'large item pick-up' this week, and in preparation every third house has placed piles of old appliances, furniture, etc., by their curb. I know that we live in an age of consumerism, that we're excited by the new and the shiny, but I am appalled to see what people are just throwing out. If I were having a baby, I could easily have outfitted myself with a stroller, high chair, crib, change table, bouncy seats and ride-on toys yesterday. All in good condition, and barely needing a wipe down. If I were furnishing a house I could have picked up antique wood dressers, sofas, chairs, tables....obviously some were things were junk, but a lot of it just needed a lick of paint or a steam-clean. I thought we were having a recession, people?

I drove past all of these things, and then I saw a flash of pink metal. A bike. The girlie needs a new bike. I stopped and got out. The bike was too small, but right beside it there was a wagon. We've almost completely abandoned the stroller, but we've thought that a wagon would be great on day trips to the zoo and such; I just haven't wanted to spend the money. The wagon was in great shape except for one broken wheel. But it was a Little Tikes, and their phone number was right there! Surely I could just order a new one. I stuffed the wagon in my trunk, and took off home, eager to consult the oracle Google.

Let's just say this. Little Tikes can bite me. I won't be purchasing any more of their products if I can help it. They do have a parts department, but it's a joke. They don't want you to fix their products...they want you to dump the massive plastic carcasses in a landfill and buy a new one. I was so disappointed, but Bad was convinced that even if Mommy had failed him, Daddy could fix it. Daddy can fix anything. I told Hubs all about my experiences with the Little Tikes website and "help" line over dinner. "There were a couple other wagons around with missing parts, but they weren't the same kind....I can't believe that you can't even order a wheel from these people!" I lamented.

"Go get the other wagons. The kids and I will meet you in the backyard."

So I went back out garbage picking and my resourceful husband built us a Frankenstein wagon with a Little Tikes body and Step 2 front wheels. I hosed it off and gave it a quick scrub and the kids hauled it to the front for a test drive. It works great, and as Hubs and I sat on the front steps watching our little ones running and laughing, giving each other rides up and down the street, I counted another one of my blessings. I have a talented husband who can fix anything, and he loves me for being a cheap-ass garbage picker. Does it get any better than that?

I'm in love with my boy....

How could I not be? Here are just a few of the giggles he's given me this week.

*****

Bad: "GRRrrrrr....GRRrrrrr"
Me: "What's wrong baby?"
Bad: "My superpowers make me mad!"

*****

Bad (picking up a naked doll and dancing her across the windowsill) "Oh hi Barbie! I have boobies too!"

*****

At breakfast the other day, after being admonished to not call everyone 'poopy-heads'

Bad: Poop on potty, Mommy.
Me: That's right.
Bad: And poop on toilet. Never poop on girls.

I think that's advice everyone should live by.

More Happy

It's been such a busy week that I'm almost glad it's over. It was pretty wonderful though. Ballet is finished for the year, and the Princess' recital was very sweet. My MIL came with us, and spent the night, and I managed to make homemade pizza and cupcakes for dinner since her birthday was the next day. (I also had to change sheets, wash the floor, and pick up wine - she doesn't drink, but Hubs and I find her hard to take without alcohol.)

Also the next day was the Princess' class trip to Puck's Farm. I dropped Bad off for an extra day at the sitter so that I could go along. Farms aren't really my thing, (My dad constantly shakes his head at my squeamish, girlie ways. "I can't believe you grew up on a farm!" he moans) but I'm glad I went.



The Princess rides a pony!



The farm I grew up on didn't have kiddie rides!



The Princess milks a cow! Guess which mommy DIDN'T want a turn. After years of nursing I just felt too much empathy for poor Bessie.

The best bit was that the Princess wanted me with her. She walked beside me and held my hand. She made sure to sit with me for lunch. Some of the other kids were already acting 'too cool' to hang out with their mothers. I'm so glad I made the effort to go on a trip while she still loves me best.

Happy Weekend Everyone!

Sometimes the world sucks.

One day a week I send Bad to a babysitter and I run some errands and do a little filing for Hubs' company. I also make his collections calls. I hate it. I'm pretty friendly and laid back about it (which no doubt makes me less effective) but despite that, today I made a grown man cry. The economy sucks, and a lot of Hubs' customers have been especially hard hit. This was a good guy who wants to pay his bills on time, but he can't pay his bills until he has been paid; and everyone seems to be sitting on their money. It's a vicious merry-go-round and I want to get off it.