Good News/Bad News

Good News? It's Wednesday. We're halfway to the weekend!
Bad News? It's only Wednesday. We're only halfway to the weekend.

Good News? Canada beat Germany.
Bad News? Now we have to play Russia.

Bad News? I shrunk my favourite jeans.
Good News? I can still button them.
Bad News? They increase my muffin top quotient greatly.

Good News? I made granola today.
Bad News? It won't last more than a couple of days.

Good News? Wiggle Man loves the sheep puppet I got for him.
Bad News? He asks for "Sheep talk" all the time.

Good News? I have pie in my fridge.
Bad News? Not for long.

Train Up A Child

In the way he should go



And when he is old, he will not turn from it.

What's that you say? Not quite what the writer of Proverbs had in mind?

Oh. Well, here's hoping for 2034!

WiggleSpeak

Are you ready for another lesson in understanding my toddler? I sure hope so, because I've got another edition of WiggleSpeak all lined up for you:

Taneenee: "Canada." The Olympics are on. Of course I'm going to teach him to say "Canada." And if I can find it, you can bet he'll be wearing his Team Canada hockey jersey to church tomorrow, too.

Morn: "More." Why he adds the 'n' at the end, I have no idea. But he does it pretty consistently, as you'll see in the next term.

Morno: Sometimes pronounced, "Ah-morno" this is how my child tells you "tomorrow". It's a ritual we go through before every bedtime. "Big choo choo amorno?" "Yes, Wiggles, you can play with your train tomorrow." "Pu-lay tunnels? Tracks? Trains? Morno?" "Yes, dear. Tomorrow you can play with your tunnels and tracks and trains."

Lolos: "Letters." Wiggle Man has been learning letters via starfall.com. He is forever asking to "watch lolos" with me. And how can you say no when your child is asking to learn?

Mama/Dada: This not only refers to the Rev and I, but also to any other adult male or female Wiggle Man sees. So if you should happen to pass us in Target, and he points to you and says "Mama!" (or "Dada", depending on your gender), don't be alarmed.

Red Treat: "Kit Kat." (Have I done this one already? I'm too lazy to go back and check old posts.) Anyway, it's red. It's a treat. It's a Kit Kat. (That should totally be their new slogan.)

Dada Treats: "Reese's Puff Cereal." It's Daddy's cereal, that he occasionally shares with the Wiggle.

Mama Treats: "Mommy's awesome homemade granola that is super yummy." At least, I'm sure that's what he's implying.

Lessons Learned At Target

Today, as we do at least once a week, Wiggle Man and I made our way to Target for lunch. It's convenient, has healthy options, and we can eat pretty cheaply. Ahh...Target Cafe. How I love you.

Up to this point, Wiggle Man had been remarkably compliant. He listened to me, to the ladies in childcare at the Y, and he was even (reasonably) quiet at the library. He was good.

That ended at Target. After dropping his mini hot-dogs on the floor, and having them graciously replace by the nice man at Target Cafe, Wiggle Man decided he'd actually rather not eat the hot dogs.

Really.

Instead, he wanted his animal crackers. It was at this point I made a decision. I decided not to care what anyone else thought about me, my son, or my parenting. So, I let him fuss and whine. Don't get me wrong--I'm all for respecting the rights of other people to enjoy their meals. But there was really no one around except the Starbucks baristas, and had Wiggle Man really let loose with the screaming, I most definitely would have removed him to the car.

But for once, I decided to stop worrying so much about what other people thought, and focus more on teaching my son discipline. He fussed. I calmly told him his animal crackers were for later, then continued eating. Every time he asked for them again, I reminded him I'd answered that question, then went back to my lunch. I didn't address his mini-tantrum, and kept calm. And just like every episode of Super Nanny, it actually worked. Wiggle Man finished his hot dogs.

I think at some point in our society, we've shifted the pendulum from being overly focused on our kids' needs, to being overly concerned about the rights of others. Like I said above, I'll take him to the car if he pulls out a full-on tantrum. And I wouldn't take him to a quiet, fancy restaurant at this point.

But no one goes to the Target Cafe for the ambiance. We're not talking $50 dollar steak dinners here. Even had Wiggles screamed at the top of his lungs, no one's romantic lunch would have been ruined. And Target Cafe can be just the place for learning--manners for testy two year-olds, and patience for uptight mamas.

Because You Asked...

Well, Sara asked, anyway.

So here you go, Sara. And anyone else remotely interested.

My latest adventures in skin care (doo doo doo doo!):

I like St. Ives Elements Warming Scrub. It smells amazing, and my skin feels great afterwards.

My all-around, always love it, always works great standby is Dove Gentle Exfoliating Foaming Cleanser.

My new toy is L'Oreal Paris Go 360 Clean Deep Cream Cleanser. Honestly? The commercial with the little scrubbie that pops out of the bottle is what got me. And so far, I really like it--it tingles when I use it, my pores are getting smaller, and it feels nice and clean. It's hard to judge if it's drying out my skin too much, since winter sucks any and all moisture out of me.

Which is why I love The Body Shop's Vitamin E Sink-In Moisture Mask. It really helps with my dry spots, and my skin feels amazing after I use it.

So there you have it, Sara. My current faves in skin care. Until I see a commercial for something new, that is. As the Rev will tell you: "Advertising works on Jenn." It's a running joke in our house.

PS--no one compensated me in any form for this post.

I've Fallen

You may think I've fallen off the face of the world, what with my shocking lack of blogging recently. We've had a few out-of-town guests back-to-back, so things got a little busy here for a while.

I have not, however, fallen off the face of the world.

I've been making granola. And muddy buddies and caramel corn, which counteract the healthiness of the granola.

I've been cheering Canada on in the Olympics.

I've been righteously indignant about some of NBC's coverage of said Olympics, and longed for CTV. Like most Canadians, I'd like to send Meredith the memo that Terry Fox did not star in Family Ties. That would be the talented Michael J.

I've been unpacking books. I've been trying to figure out where to hang shelves and pictures, so our living room can look like people actually live in it.

I've seen a great basketball game.

I've been having dreams that Wiggle Man decided to try potty training, instead of running away screaming.

I've been trying out new face cleansers. The Rev complains I have no brand loyalty. He's mostly right. But I like to try new things. I do stick with something once I find it really works. Usually.

And I've been trying to figure out how to turn off the snow. I thought when we moved south, I'd get warmer winters. Ha. My powers are too strong for that.

Cuddlebum

The night before last I was lying in bed, thinking about this post. It had occurred to me that Wiggle Man cuddles me almost the exact way he did as a newborn...except, of course, he's much bigger now. But the position is much the same: head on my chest (or shoulder, now that he's taller), arms tucked under, my arm under his bum.

This picture doesn't quite show how he cuddled; I'm not sure if I had him turned for the camera, or what the deal was. It's also a great shot of how I looked before I stopped nursing and the nasty hormones decided to bloat me up. Lovely things, those hormones.




Well, I got all nostalgic thinking about my big boy, and how he's still my cuddlebum, but only when he's tired.

Aww.

Then, as if sensing my nostalgia, he spent yesterday "cooking" all over his bedroom and the kitchen. Remember this? Well, apparently Wiggle Man got a hold of the pepper shaker, managed to open it, and sprinkled pepper everywhere. I'm not exaggerating, either. It was on his bed, his pillow, his train table, his easel, his books, his toys, and literally coating the kitchen table.

Proud of how I'm learning to deal with these little interruptions that life with a toddler brings, I calmly (no, seriously) vacuumed it up, having Wiggle Man help when appropriate. (I know. I'm so...supermom.) <---sarcasm alert.

Anyway, a few short hours later I sat at the piano. I looked down to see someone (read: Wiggle Man) had decided to decorate the laminate floor. With pencil scribbles. A lot of them.

Let's just say God is giving me ample opportunities to practise patience. And I sure need the practise. Now, let me go see what the little dear is up to--I hear thuds coming from the piano room.