Even My Two Year Old Doesn’t Think I am Funny

The other day on our way home, I was telling my son a story, which ended with ‘wasn’t that funny.’

He looked at me and screamed, “Mommy, I am not laughing with you.”
Oh.

And then he said it again: “Mommy, I am not laughing with you.”

Are you laughing at me? I asked him.

“Mommy, I am not laughing at you.”

Well that is a relief.

Other funny things this week:

• When my son was yelling about something else, I told him not to scream at me. The next time he was yelling, he told me “Mommy, I am not yelling at you.” He was yelling at the iPod, apparently for not working right.

• His new thing is to tell me what to say so he can respond the way he wants. So he tells me, “Mommy, say, ‘Spiders are yucky, E’.” So I say it. Then he responds with “No, spiders good. They eat squitoes.”
It’s nice to know that while my son doesn’t think I am funny, he is at least listening to me.

• “Mommy, you ran over my foot.” Yes, I did run over my son’s foot with his own high chair, why do you ask? I felt so badly particularly since he looked like he wanted to cry but was trying to be brave.

• “Mommy, what did you call me?” I had called him Baby. “I am not baby. I am big boy.” True. How sad.

• “Mommy, you can’t have bubble gum, you’re big. I’m little. I like bubble gum.”

• I had the flu this week and my little one was a good nurse. He was eating porridge and he said to me “Mommy, you eat breakfast to make your tummy feel better.” I passed. Later, he insisted raw mushrooms, gross at any time, would make me feel better. “Choo, choo, Mommy. Eat it. It will make tummy feel better. Eat it. Eat it.” He didn’t believe me when I pretended to take a bite. I can’t fool this little guy.

Nighttime Ride

Last night my husband and I went for a quick motorcycle ride after the baby was asleep.

For the record, his 19-year-old sister was at home listening for any sound from his bedroom.

I really haven’t been on the Harley since the summer before I was pregnant. My husband tells me he thinks of that summer often.

We went out almost every weekend and did several great trips. He figures my motorcycle riding days are done.

They aren’t done, they are postponed until after the boy decides hanging out with friends is more important than mom and dad or when mom and dad can leave the boy to hang out by himself for a couple of hours.

Or when mom is able to leave baby in the capable hands of the Nana and Papa or for the weekend. Sadly, for Nana and Papa at least, I am not there yet.

There Was A Time…

There was a time...
...When I used to be fashion conscious.

Now let me say that I have always beat to my own drum when it comes to fashion. I have always worn what I want, but it at least followed the style of the day. I had the bad hair of the 1980s and ’90s, the big glasses, the giant earrings and the ugly clothes, which, sadly, are making a comeback.

Today, while I wish I had more money to spend on clothes, I am surrounded by people who think they are fashion gurus and are not shy about their views, making such blatant statements as:

• Women who have blond hair and are over 30 are trailer trash because they obviously dye it and it looks ridiculous. (For the record, I have two aunts who both have yellow-blond hair. They have never dyed it and they are 45 and over 50.)
• Women who dye their hair all one colour are trailer trash. I have to dye my hair so now what?
• Girls under 30 have no right to wear red lipstick, they look like trailer trash. Are you seeing the pattern here?

Any way, these types of people drive me crazy because I do not think fashion is black and white.

Fashion is shades of grey and is all about interpretation and wearing something that makes you feel and look good.

However, dealing with people like this makes me want to go in the complete other directions, which, I know, is ridiculous.

There was a time …..
...When I baked nightly.

I would get a recipe for work that didn’t come with a photo, go home, make it and take photos of it for the paper.

My coworkers were happy because they often got samples. I would bake cookies and brownies and bring them in to share. I would have tea biscuits nightly.

Then I had my little guy. And after he goes to bed, I get ready for work, have a shower, read and go to bed myself. No baked goods to share. No tea biscuits for me.

There was a time….
...When I would read many books in a course of a week.
I can now read a magazine in the course of week, a book is a month or so.

There was a time…
...When the green monster would rear its ugly head every time I heard the words ‘I’m pregnant.’

The monster didn’t stay long and I eventually was happy for whoever was lucky enough to be pregnant, but still it appeared and made me feel badly for a bit.

Then I was lucky enough to become pregnant myself. My son arrived and he has brought me constant joy.

So there may have been a time when I had extra money and time, now I have little-boy giggles, pee on the floor, impish smiles, cute laundry, hugs and open-mouth kisses, peak-a-boo and constant happiness.