The Poopsmith

Poopsmith /ˈpo͞opˌsmiTH/
(noun)
1. the science and art of making, defeating, and concealing poop
2. my daughter

iBean is a prolific pooper. Not only that, she is now at the age of poop awareness.  Seriously, I think the poop awareness ribbon is brown with flecks of green and yellow, designed by iBean herself.  Just to create awareness out there that YES!  SHE CAN POOP! AND SHE LOVES IT!

She hides behind doors or crouches beside tables when she does her business, and when I look at her and ask her if she just went caca (French for poop), she looks at me with pure pleasure and repeats "TCHA TCHA!"  She even poops in the tub. On a regular basis.  I think it's one of her favourite places to poop.  Maybe it's like giving birth in a pool: less pressure and it just slides right out.  Not that I have ever given birth in a pool.  Or pooped in a pool.  Or bath. So maybe it's not like giving birth at all. Meh.  Just scratch all that.

This morning after breakfast, I lift iBean out of her highchair, only to discover that her diaper had leaked pee through her pajamas.  Her bum, and now my shirt from her bum being pressed against me, are soaking wet.  So I instantly strip her down to her naked-diva-self as I grab a new diaper, clean clothes for Beanerson, and a new shirt for myself.  As much as I like walking around looking like I am permanently lactating, I think I'll go for a fresher look today.

I put on a new NOW-URINE-FREE shirt and go get iBean from the kitchen, where she is wandering around playing with clean dishes in the dishwasher, rearranging my cupboards, being über-helpful in a way only a 15-month-old can.  I bring her to the bedroom and put a new diaper on.  Hmmm.  That's wierd.  There's a bit of poopsmear around her bum hole.  Wow, must be dried on from yesterday, I guess.  Wierdo presto strange-o. Oh well.

iBean gets dressed and races back to the living room to cause general confusion and delay while Tony is trying to get Sashimi dressed for school and I work on convincing Keesadilla that playschool is not full of BAD GUYS and that his friends are not all BAD and STINKY, and YES, Mommy will stay with him for five minutes to play.
Speaking of stinky, Keesadilla pipes up: Mommy, what's that stinky smell?
Me: TONY did you fart?
Tony: No...*look of disbelief crosses everyone's face*...Seriously, I didn't.  I think it's iBean.
Me, checking her bum: Nothing in her diaper, I just changed her.
Keesadilla: Mommy, YOU stink!
Me: No I don't.  I don't smell anything, Keesadilla.
I walk into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast, start slicing up fruit to make a smoothie.  I go to the fridge to get yogurt and see it: 
A PILE OF POOP NUGGETS AND LOGS LEFT AS AN OFFERING IN FRONT OF THE FRIDGE.  As if to say: LOOK MOMMY!  BE PROUD OF ME!  I POOPED ON THE FLOOR SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO WASH ANOTHER DIAPER!

I shout out: OH MANNNNN!  IBEAN!!  You pooped on the floor!!
And our live studio audience bursts out into maniacal laughter, followed by the Poopsmith herself, heaving with red cheeks and flailing her arms about from the sheer hilarity of it: "TCHA TCHA!!!!"

Well, it's not so funny when you have to CLEAN THAT SH*T UP!

Nice try Beanerson.  I'll be more impressed when you TELL me you pooped on the floor.  Wait.  Scratch that.  I'll be more impressed when you tell me you have to poop BEFORE you poop on the floor.  That's better.

Oh well.  I guess that's one less sh*tty diaper I have to wash.  Wait, did I just say that?  Damn.  Well played, Poopsmith.  Well played.

The Collection

In four weeks, Keesadilla will celebrate his 4th birthday. And he knows it's coming. This morning, while Tony and I were hazily enjoying our caffeine-drip, Keesadilla asked if his birthday was after breakfast. When we said no, he asked if it was tomorrow. When we said no again, he said: How many minutes, then??

For the third time in his life, he wants a Thomas the Tank Engine cake. And gifts? Trains. More trains. Maybe a Shake-Shake bridge. Oh, did I mention trains? Now, buying Keesadilla a train is not as easy as a perogy: there was the unfortunate incident when he received two of the same engine for Christmas. Wait, scratch that. It was THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVEEEEEERRRRRRR! OH MY GOSH! I GOT TWO DIESEL 10S! ARE THEY BROTHERS LIKE ME AND SACHA? AAAAAAHHHH!! I LOVE TRAINS!!!!

 For ease of train-shopping for all you birthday gift givers out there, Keesadilla has produced an informative video featuring his extensive train collection. He hopes that it will help all of you in your train purchasing endeavors and says to please, feel free to reference it as often as you like. You may not get all of the details of which trains he has and which ones he does NOT after a single viewing.





If you have shares in Learning Curve toys, YOU'RE WELCOME.

Congratulations and Condolences

Today is Friday, April 13.  My little sister got married today.
At this point, most people say:
1. Who the heck gets married on a Friday?
2. WAIT....Who the heck gets married on a Friday the THIRTEENTH?!  DUN DUN DUN!
3.  Did you know that Friday the 13th is bad luck?
4.  13 is a prime number!  What?!

Wow.  Really, you had to add that last one, didn't you.

Well, my sister had not really planned on getting married on a Friday, nor on the 13th, and especially not on a Friday the 13th.  She was supposed to get married on September 15th, a nice relaxing sort of number, divisible by 3 and 5, and a Saturday, like all normal people.

This wedding was anything but the norm.

Three weeks ago, Talia (my sister) called me to tell me that her future father-in-law was very ill.  He was battling cancer, and it seemed that he was losing the battle rather quickly. The doctors had given him at most a few months to live.  At that point, he was already basically bed-ridden in his home, unable to complete any further cancer treatments as his health was not really up to the onerous task of dealing with cancer drugs and so on.  They started treating him palliatively.

Talia and her fiancé (Leigh) decided that it was very important that his father be present at their wedding, so they decided to forgo the big fancy hoopla and have a small ceremony in their house, scheduled for today.  They wanted to get everything planned as quickly as possible so that he could witness his oldest son get married.

Leigh's father died yesterday.

In his last hours in this world, he was adamant that they NOT cancel or postpone the wedding. The family, wanting to honor his wishes, unanimously decided to go on with the wedding as planned.  When Talia initially told me this, I thought she was crazy.  We lost out father 12 years ago, so I knew how difficult it was and I could not imagine getting MARRIED the day after he died. But I wanted to be supportive, so I picked out some karaoke music (I was supposed to play the piano, but we discovered it was badly out of tune and would make the guests' ears cry), went over the songs with her and started learning lyrics.  I decided to only bring one child (iBean) as Tony's mom had told me that she would take the boys to Telus World of Science (is that what that place is called now?  I can't keep it straight).  I had not planned on bringing any kids to the ceremony - Leigh's dad was ill and I didn't want rambunctious hooligans (read: my chillins) causing him any additional discomfort.  But I also did not think Tony's mom would have as much fun at the science center with a 15 month old.  So I used the excuse to buy her a new cheery outfit and brought her with me:

Did your computer crash?  Sorry, it's just a minor cuteness overload.  Your data should all be in tact.

When I arrived at the house this afternoon, things were quiet, but not somber.  Just calm.  There was no rush, no sense of urgency, just a sense of being truly in the moment.  I am pretty sure the ceremony started late, but no one was really looking at their watches (except maybe the marriage commissioner). And everyone was smiling.  There were some tears, but they were the usual wedding tears, nothing like the funeral tears I had been anticipating.
And Talia flubbed her vows a bit - she looked at the marriage commissioner and said "Wait a minute.  I missed that.  What did you say?" True Talia style.
But she was beautiful. You can cut her some slack for that, right?

Beauty was not in the eye of the beholder.  She was GORGEOUS on an objective level.

Leigh had the most adoring look on his face with eyes only on his bride for the entire ceremony.
And once they were introduced as Mr and Mrs, he picked up a ukelele and serenaded his new wife. On a ukelele.  Serenading.  Did I mention it was a ukelele?

UKELELE!  YESSSSS!

 We had some appetizers and wine, followed by the ritual of the couple feeding each other the cake:

Have YOU washed YOUR hands today, honey?

I was happy to have been there, and I am sure that Leigh's dad and our dad were both there.  Although not in monkey suits like the rest of us, who have to wiggle out of our spanx everytime we need to pee.  And I am sure they smiled down on us.  I mean, who wouldn't laugh at someone trying to wiggle themselves free of their underwear while their bladder is ready to burst from the large volume of wine you drank?  WHY OH WHY did I drink that last box of wine?  I really need to invest in a stadium pal.  Or maybe they should make spanx with a built-in stadium pal.  That's a million-dollar-idea right there. Now DON'T STEAL IT.

 Oh.  And congratulations you two!

The great disappointment

Keesadilla is a train nut. He loves Thomas and all things Thomas related. Every night, in bed, we tell a "pretend story" as we call them - a story made up by yours truly. Or rather, by Keesadilla, since he narrates the whole thing and then tells me to repeat everything he just said. Each night, it ends up being the same story: Thomas is on the island of Sodor, then Keesadilla arrives, they have to get somewhere which involves crossing a bridge, the bridge breaks, and some other engine has to come and save the day. Sometimes the engine in trouble is Gordon, or Hiro, or Spencer, and Thomas and Keesadilla have to save the day.  Regardless, there is always a broken bridge and the risk of falling into the "mutty" pool, aka the sleugh. The dialogue goes something like this: "OH THE HORROR!  NOT MY NEW PAINT JOB!  WHAT WE GONNA DO?  IT'S CAUSIN CONFUSION AND DELAY! HOW WE GONNA CROSS THE BROKEN BRIDGE?? OH NO!!"
Waking hours are no different.  Keesadilla watches Thomas videos on youtube, then reenacts the videos on his track with his harem of trains.  One of his favourites video themes is "Accidents Happen."  If you go on youtube and search "Accidents Happen Thomas" you will find countless videos made by fellow train nuts depicting their toy trains crashing around on train tracks, causing confusion and delay all OVER the place, yo.  Naturally, Keesasilla wants to reenact his own "accidents happen" on his track, which means I have to rebuild that mofo track on a regular basis.  Not only that, for each story he wants to play out, he needs a NEW track:
K: Mommy, I need a new track.  This track is not good.
M: What?  This is a GREAT track.  I just made it for you!
K: But it's not very good, see?  Thomas doesn't like it, and Spencer can't crash like this, SEE? I want the bridge to break so accidents happen! WHINE WHINE WHINE!
M: Well, you can do that on this track (and I try and show him what I mean).
K: NOOOOOOO!  I need a new track!  A good one!  This is a disappointing track *insert pouty face here*

BOO on this track!  How can I be truly happy with THIS atrocity??

M: Are you EFFING KIDDING ME?!  Ok, maybe I say that in my head.  Or under my breath.  Or maybe out loud.  Usually I am so flippin annoyed that I cannot be held accountable for what I say to those damn trains. But 99% of the time, I get down on my hands and knees, take apart his track, and use the existing pieces to come up with some new magical track that will fulfill all his trainly desires. He'll usually smile and say "This is a GREAT track!  I am so happy for you, Mommy!"
Which is what he said yesterday, when I removed the constraints of the train table and built the track on the floor:

Huzzah!  Mommy, you are the best Mommy in the WORLD!  Ok, maybe he didn't say that, but he SHOULD, damn it.

This morning, however, we were back to the land of disappointment: "This track is NOT good.  It's not a good idea!  I need a bigger track with place for a mutty pool!"

Well pickle me in perrier, I had no clue how to make a better track than THAT.  Did I mention that I had already used every.single.piece.of.track in our set?  How can I make a bigger, yet interesting, track when I have no more TRACK pieces?  And no, I am not a carpenter, I can't just *make* track.

After dropping Keesadilla off at playschool, I saw a bag of used track pieces for sale by donation to raise money for the toy library.  This bag was the shiznit.  Bridges, HIGHER bridges, and even a boat to float around in the mutty pool!  I snagged the bag before anyone else could make sense of its goodness and went home.  iBean napped, the boys were both at school, I had time to myself. And what did I do?  I built this:

Sweet Mother of Tallulah!  Look at the dangerous curves and junctions!  So many posibilities for ACCIDENTS!

Chuff harder, Oliver!  You're gonna slide backwards down that slippery hill!

Beware the mutty pool...

This track is the antithesis of disappointment.  It is an APPOINTMENT, right?  Am I RIGHT?  Ok, I know that is not the correct use of that word, but whatevs.  This track rocks.
As long as Thomas agrees...

Party On!

iBean is not like our boys. When they go to sleep at night, they know it's night time, and night time is for sleeping, not partying. iBean has this silly habit of every so often, once in a while, waking up around 10:30 or 11 pm, after being asleep for hours, and being a goof. The level of goofiness varies, but she has been doing this since she was about 6 or 7 months old. Usually, rather than fight her inner-night-diva-ness, we just bring her into our bed, sit her between us while we read or watch some TV show that we in no way illegally ripped off of the internetz (*cough*GAMEOFTHRONES*cough*) and put her to sleep an hour or so later, depending on how quickly she tires of our boring night lives. This was last night's shenanigans. What a silly girl.