No, He Can’t Say His Name…

… but my little MickNew has pee’d - and poo’d - on the toilet!!!!!



Only thing? He insists on being COMPLETELY NAKED every single attempt.

Looking Back... Emma is 37 Months Old!

Yeah, yeah... I know.

It's been, like, forever and a day since I've posted.

Did you miss me?
Did you notice I was gone?

Well, I'm here now.

But, truth be told, I'm not sure for how long...

Quite honestly, I'm at odds about continuing this blog or abandoning it altogether. It's just that lately I've been going through some personal shit, and then I sit here and type all this peaches & cream crap about my life and I feel like I'm kind of deceiving you all. That, and it's getting more and more difficult to pretend that my life is so filled with glory and sunshine, when in reality, it's not. At least not right now. But that's not to say happiness won't return. That's also not to say this blog won't return. I'm just not sure when, or where. Nor am I sure whether or not I will continue to make it accessible to those who know me in real life. Rather, I'm contemplating starting over anonymously.

Just thought I'd share.

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And now on with Emma's 37 Month Update!

(Oh... and forgive me, I haven't taken many photos this month... crap. But HERE are some photos at took at Esther's 3rd birthday day party. And if you're looking for a birthday party idea for a three-year-old girl, let me suggest getting a Cinderalla to come to your party. Or at least this chick that dressed up as Cinderella. She was awesome. Period. Brought tons of costumes for the kids, shoes, wands, jewellery, painted their faces, danced, played games... all in all, an amazingly good time. Really.)

I'll start my giving you the vital stats, considering we just had her 3-year check-up today. Better late than never, I suppose. Except that we missed out on getting our flu shots this year... that's a drag - hopefully we can still find a clinic that has some left. Like I said, my head has been kind of up my ass these days.

Emma's Weight: 29.5 lbs.
Michael's Weight: 27 lbs.

Yup. 20 months apart, and less than 3 lbs different.
Also? Emma is currently wearing a size 8 shoe, Michael a size 6.
Even more? Emma wears a size 3 in pants & shirts. Michael a size 2.
She better continue being nice to him because at this rate he's gonna be much bigger than her in no time.

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The other day we were in major traffic. In Toronto, we're pretty much ALWAYS in major traffic. I guess this day I was just more annoyed than usual. My three-year-old actually noticed! And told me, point blank, "Mommy, you just have to be patient." Oh my... who's the parent in this here relationship?

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E: We’re running out of TV.
A: What do you mean?
E: Daddy said I watch too much of it.

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She has gotten totally into singing lately, and not just singing, but making up her own songs too. Most of them are jibberish, but then there was the one she sang to Jeff that was just so sweet... It went a little something like this:

Thank you for playing
Thank you for you...

Awwww.... I know.

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I know most of you don't know me, but you should all be aware in the the past few months I've porked up a bit. My sweaters are tight, and my jeans are even tighter. And my love of halloween size Kit Kat bars knows no boundaries. But nevertheless, I was hoping nobody really noticed, as I sucked in my gut, un-tucked my shirt, and went about my day.

And then Michael came running through the living room the other day, shirtless.

E: Michael has a big tummy… just like YOU!

Thanks, kid.

(Nevermind, my brother-in-law also felt it necessary to point it out over our Chanukah bruch, as I lay immobile on my mother's sofa from stuffing myself silly on Helen's Kirzner's French Toast. Seriously. Next time you host a brunch, you must make it. Did I mention that not only did he point out the weight gain, but also POKED MY STOMACH in the process??? Buddy was THISCLOSE to losing his whole damn hand.)

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Lately she's gotten really into shortening everyone's names.

Bubbie is Bub.
I am Mom
Jeff is Dad
Michael is (god help me) Mike.
And ol' blanket is now just blank.

And while his name may be shorter, that doesn't mean she loves him any less.

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Emma noticed some spilled water on the counter, water that I hadn't yet wiped off.

E: Well... water is a part of cleaning, so daddy will be happy about that!
A: Does daddy like cleaning?
E: Yes. Dry-cleaning!

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After a long drive up North to Newmarket - long being about 45 minutes - Emma's comment?
"That was alot of kilometers!"

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Last Saturday night we ran into Santa in Home Depot. Apparently he leads as exciting a life as we do. But that's an aside... Emma was absolutely completely shell-shocked. It was adorable - she just kept repeating "I don't believe it... I really don't believe it..." to herself, over & over again.

And a couple of weeks later, when she met him again at Casa Loma, she reminded him about their initial Home Depot introduction.

He looked at her as though she had been sniffing something funny in his workshop.

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Lately she doesn't want to fall asleep by herself anymore. Now, you've got to understand that with Emma, that's NEVER been an issue. You'd read a few books to her, go through a ritual of hugs & kisses, then say good-night. All very civil. Very adult, really. But now? Now she's staying up very late cuz she doesn't want to sleep alone. That and she's claiming that she's afraid of the dark. But really, she's not. The net net of the situation? Not good...

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Her favourite colour is pink. But not just any pink will do... DARK PINK! And DARK PINK with no other colours or patterns. My girl, she's a purist.

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Nov 24 - she's no longer sleeping with a pull-up. Remains to be seen if this was a good idea or not...

Nov 28 - ummm, maybe not ready for the big girl undies at bedtime.

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We were driving around the other night, looking at all the houses with Xmas lights... some nice, and tasteful. Others not so much. My daughter? She preferred the not-so-much variety. Anyhoo... as is her 'thing' of late - like when we see a crack in the sidewalk, she'll tell me to yell anything from "CRACK" to "FLUBBERLUBBER" - but this time?

E: When we see a house with lights, yell "CHANNUKAH!!"

Seriously. Is this kid good, or what?!

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Lately she has also taken to calling Michael, "Chubby" or "Chubby Cheeks"
I'm not sure if this is my fault... but either way, I'll likely get blamed for it years from now when he's in therapy.

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Lastly? Everytime it snows Emma looks out the window, and sooo excited, yells out, "IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!"
(and I, oh-so-quiety, mutter to myself "and Channukah...")

And then? Then she asks if it's packin' snow. Cuz really? That's what matters.

To be three again.

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The more I think about it, the more I'm pretty sure that this will be my last post at this blog.

Except for the one where I tell you for certain.

I miss you all already.

Happy Channukah!!

Mr. Fancy Pants... Now With Video!

For a long time now - take that with a grain of salt, the kid is only 3 - Emma has said that when she grows up she wants to be a doctor. No, I did not have anything to do with that. Really. Okay, maybe just a little. But she's also been into giving Michael 'check-ups' and making him 'appointments' and sticking him with needles (aka toilet paper tubes).

And then, one day last week, we were at Winners. The Canadian equivalent of Steinmart or TJ Maxx. And Emma saw this Disney hairdresser kit thing that she absolutely NEEDED, that she would just DIE ON THE SPOT if she didn't have one to call her own. Of course, me being the great mother I am, I said no. That she didn't NEED it, it was plastic, was likely made in China, and was probably covered in lead-tainted paint and that's how it ended up in Winners discount aisle to begin with. I know, I'm so fun.

Anyhow, she informed me that she had changed her mind. She no longer wants to be a doctor, but rather a hairdresser instead. And then I poured on the Jewish guilt about how she just MUST be a doctor - or even a dentist, that would be fine too - but a hairdresser?

And I still said no. She couldn't have the hairdresser kit.

Later that night, at home, I heard something strange. Some people call it Silence. And if you know my house, you know that's not a good thing.

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Emma decided Michael should have curly hair too.








Mr. Fancy Pants from doublea on Vimeo.

Such Big Decisions...

Yesterday morning I dropped Emma off at preschool, and before I had a chance to leave, the Director of the school called me into her office to have a 'chat'. (Swear to God, it was like being called into the Principal's office. Oh.. I suppose I was.) Anyhow, I was pretty positive she wasn't going to tell me that Emma has been a badass or anything, but you never know. (I did see her oh-so subtly kick Neferty during circle time that one day... but hell, Neferty is probably the most annoying 3-year-old I've ever seen. Half the time I want to kick her too. And her paretns? Should really clip her damn nails already. Or at least file & polish them.)

So yeah. As I was saying... Turns out come January, a new wave of kids are coming into the school, kids that have just turned 2 1/2 - the age you must be to enrol. That being the case, Emma will end up being one of the two oldest kids in her group - the 'red group'.

The Director called me in to suggest that perhaps I move Emma into the Blue Group - a slightly older group, where the majority of kids are just older than her. While that's great and all, there are two problems:

1) Most of the kids in this group are boys. And roudy boys at that. Two of them are twins. Now, imagine two boy twins - once they get going, they set off the rest of the class. Then it turns into a situation where the teacher isn't teaching, but rather spending all her time trying to rangle the class in.

2) Now #1 may not have even been a huge problems, say for the fact that this particular teacher is fresh out of school and inexperienced. She has zero control and the class knows it. A more experienced teacher could gain the control back before it got out of hand.

3) Emma already has a terrific rapport with her teacher, Lisa. And I really like Lisa too. And Lisa seems to really like Emma.

So I think it's obviously that I'm hesitating about moving her...

But do you think it's really so bad if she's with kids that much younger than her?

Contrary to Popular Belief...

You CAN eat off my kitchen floors!!!






Untitled from doublea on Vimeo.

And, wouldn't ya just know it, but right after this my damn vacuum decided to take a break from, ummm... working.

And beats the hell outta me where the broom is.

I'm not so much for manual work.

Jeff's Birthday... Part 2

So two of you asked what I got Jeff for his birthday, as it wasn't an I-Phone or a new Blackberry. Oh no... I got him a new Memory Foam Mattress. Yes really. Why? Cuz every night he complains about how much our mattress kills his back, how he can't sleep on it, and he winds up falling asleep on the sofa for a good chunk of the evening. Hopefully with the new one, he'll fall so in love with it, and get a proper nights sleep, that he will no longer sleep downstairs...

And yes, he was happy. And surprised. Cuz really? A mattress? Not your usual gift. But then, I suppose I'm not your usual wife. I don't know if that's necessarily a good thing, but it is what it is.

But what was his absolute FAVOURITE gift???

This was.


Dancing Princess from doublea on Vimeo.

Happy Birthday, Anyhow.

Alissa: I actually think you're gonna like your birthday gift this year!

Jeff: Is it an I-Phone?

Alissa: No...

Jeff: A Blackberry 8800?

Alissa: No..

Jeff: A Blackberry Pearl?

Alissa: No..

Jeff: New speakers?

Alissa: No..

Jeff: New sunglasses?

Alissa: Okay... maybe you're not gonna like it.

Michael is Sixteen Months Old!!!

Okay, is it really so bad if Michael's update is only three days late, when Emma's very significant 3-year one was ten days overdue?

But... hers will definitely be better than his. How's that for making you want to read on?! Compelling. I know.

Also, you should know that this 16-month-old update is going to be the sunshine edition. The "my-boy-is-so-freakin-cute-he-can't-possibly-be-a-little-asshole-half-of-the-time" version. Gimme a few days, then I'll let you in on the other side of MickNew's personality. And believe you me, it ain't so purdy. But alas, he is my other favourite person on the planet and I love him bunches & bunches.



But since we've hopped aboard the love bus right now, I'll tell you how he has started saying "Where Are You?" Usually in reference to myself or Emma. And it usually - okay, always - comes out more like "M-Ma... R-U???"

This next piece of news is BIG! And not BIG like his tummy or wide feet. Oh no... Michael has finally FINALLY FINALLY taken an interest in reading!!! Or, maybe he's just stopped hitting me upside the head with the book whenever I'll broached the subject. Although if it's not a touch-and-feel book, he'll still touch & feel every single page to make absolutely sure there's nothing to touch or feel. Cuz, y'know, it'd be a shame to miss out on a good feel. Who said my boy was slow?

He's also recently developed a love for his blanket this month. And while the love affair is no where near as intense as Emma's is for her 'ol blanket, it's still there. Both their prized blankets were made by the same Bubbie - no, not their Bubbie, she doesn't do that - but rather Julia's bubbie. Bubbie Judy. And let me tell you, Bubbie Judy crochets a damn fine blanket. Although after many, many, MANY washings Emma's is not what it used to be in terms of huggibly soft fluffiness. Michael's still is. Granted, he hasn't barfed or pee'd on it. Yet.

Did I ever tell you that my boy fashions himself a dancer? Check out his fancy footwork. You can say you knew him when...


Untitled from doublea on Vimeo.

He now says Mommy clear as day. And by that, I mean a bright sunny day. See.. I told you this was the happy day sunshine edition.

He loves cleaning. Yes, you heard me right. Particuarly vaccuuming - with Emma's pink Pottery Barn vaccuum, or if that's not available, the big central vac. Y'know, whatever works. Sadly, the Pottery Barn one is just for show. It sounds real and all, but no suction. Shame, just little guy goes over carpet lint again and again just waiting for the damn thing to suck it up already. And when frustration finally kicks in, he generally picks up the whole thing by the handle and just slams it to the ground. Repeatedly. Probably scratching the hell out of my hard wood floors. I mean, it would be one thing if my future dog scratched the hell out of the floors. That would be worth it. But a pink Pottery Barn vaccuum? I dunno...

Oh... but this is supposed to be all about Michael The Good. Yup. A boy who cleans. Not just a boy who complains about his wife's cleaning. Clearly future marriage material.


Long Distance Dusting from doublea on Vimeo.

He's also started kissing people on TV. Particularly pretty girls... and then goes behind the TV to try to figure out how to kiss them in real life. Or so I assume. He doesn't speak much about it, so I'm jumping to my own conclusions. But after the kiss, he generally seems pretty frustrated...

He says "Hello!" Well, it's more like "Haa-Laa". Oh shit. Maybe the poor guy has been asking for some Challah all month long. What kind of Jewish mother am I not to recognize the signs??? My boy wants him some Challah! (Errr... that's egg bread for all my goyim readers...)

He also says Hiya, and can point out his head, ears, nose, mouth, feet, hands and eyes. He'd probably be able to do alot more if only I were a better mother.

And while he may not speak too much - at least not intelligibly - he understands EVERYTHING. You can tell him to put something away, not to touch something, to go to his bedroom, whatever. He gets it all. But that is not to be confused with him OBEYING any of it.

Again, however, this is the glass-half-full version. Not to worry, my pissy whiny glass half empty self will return shortly.

But golly gee... isn't he just GORGEOUS??!!



When I lay down with him at bedtime and think he's asleep, what with the deep breathing and all, I'll eventually attempt to remove his midsection from my head, by rolling oh-so-carefully to the left, only to have him slam my head back into the pillow, silently saying "YOU LADY... YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE. NOW GET YOUR ASS BACK DOWN HERE & DON'T BE LEAVIN' TILL MORNING." And if you could feel the force with which he shoves my head down in the pillow, you'd know he means business. And you'd be afraid. Very, very afraid.

But like I said, just look how GORGEOUS this face is!!!



What else? He started saying "peas peas" - okay, fine. He's not really asking for peas. I mean, sure... the kid likes food, but seriously... who actually likes PEAS. Ewww.... Rather, he's saying, "Please please..." About nothing in particular. Just mimicing Emma. He does that alot. Sometimes a tad too much. I just wish he'd start running like a real boy and stop flying like a fairy... At least before school starts. I don't deal well with bloody noses & black eyes.

When he wants, he can be totally polite! In a boy kind of way. He understands "excuse me"... but says what he can - "beep beep". C'mon - you know you're smiling! It's cute - admit it!

His hugs. I've got, just GOT, to tell you about his hugs. Seriously, among the best hugs I've ever received. EVER! So strong, I can't imagine them being unlike how hard that model must've hugged the tree when the tsumani threatened to blow her away. Okay... maybe not THAT strong. But you get my point.

On November 11th - the eve of his 16-month birthday, we celebrated by treating the little guy to his first Feature Film... CINDERELLA!!! Uhh... guess whose choice that was?!

His reaction: HOOKED! Oh... Emma liked it too.


Gripped By Disney from doublea on Vimeo.

And yup, little guy sat through the WHOLE THING. I think he may have even shed a tear when she married the Prince.

Emma Is THREE YEARS OLD!!!

Can you beeeelieve it??? My baby is THREE FRIGGIN' YEARS OLD!!!

Okay, fine. She's three years old and ten days. Apparently Jeff and his late ways have finally rubbed off on me. Dang.

And today Michael's update is due and I haven't haven't even started it. So don't be holding your breath for that one anytime soon.



Before I get into my usual grind of Emma-isms, I'd like to touch on a few things about my little girl... y'know, a sort of celebration of her extreme awesomeness, if you will.

I'd go into how much I love her, and how she's one of my two favourite people on the planet, and all sorts of mushy stuff like that, but I'm not really a public musher. I'm going to take it for granted that you all know that she is the love of my life (Michael, too) and I don't really have to get into any more detail than that.

But what you don't necessarily know is just how much she impresses me on a daily basis. My kid? She's SMART. Capitalized. Yeah, yeah... I know I'm her mother and all, and I'm nothing if not totally and completed biased, but I'm telling you... S-M-A-R-T.

Trust me.

Like the other day, we were stuck in heavy highway traffic, and I was getting very frustrated. Noticably so, apparently. My daughter? What does she say?
"Mommy... you have to be patient!"

Patient! My 3-year-old is telling ME to be PATIENT!

Another thing? Way back, like a whole year ago, she was deathly afraid of strangers. To the point where I was concerned that she was going to be the kid I'd have to peel off my leg to get her to go with anyone except me, her father, Auntie Lori, or Bubbie Barbara. (Fine, Martine & Michelle too.) Not only was I able to leave her at school on her very first day with no tears, no issues, no nothing but a happy wave good-bye, but now?? Now she even says HI to the take-out delivery man who occasionally brings me crappy pad thai. (One of these days, I'll stop ordering from there...) And the FedEx guy. And even the Meter-Reader man. That's right! My kid is FRIENDLY! This is the same kid who used to scream and cry and hold only my leg for dear life whenever a stranger would acknowledge her existence. And now she not only stays downstairs rather than running up and ducking for cover under the nearest bed, she SPEAKS!!!!

You have no idea... but this is HUGE!



Okay... now I'll move on with my stand out Emma-isms of the month:

One morning Emma was sitting on the toilet and pee'd alot...
E: "My bum does it's job!"

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A: You’re very good at collecting.
E: I’m a good collector.

Okay, not witty or anything - but this just impressed me because of her sound grasp of the language. Uh-huh. Clearly I'm her mother. I know. You can shut up now.

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She's become even more motherly toward her blanket, making sure to ask every morning if I will keep ol' blanket company while she's at school.
Seriously... how sweet is she? And when she knows I'm not going to be home, and I suggest that one of her stuffed animals watch over ol' blanket, she kinda looks at me like I'm an idiot and points out that they're not real.

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One morning Jeff & I were standing outside the bathroom while Emma was inside having a shower.
We heard the loud PLUNK of the soap dropping, following by Emma saying,
"Oh For God Sakes!"
Clearly my kid.

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One afternoon while we were at Blue Mountain we were looking everywhere for Emma's Grandma & Grandpa.
We finally saw them out in the parking lot.
Emma proclaimed, "Oh for God's sakes!"

Kid even had my tone down.

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On seeing a rainbow one afternoon:
E: "Mommy, somebody drew on the sky!"

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On seeing the mini airplane-size bottles in the liquor store:
E: "Mommy, these ones are MY size!"

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E: "Daddy... you have boobs! And they're growing!!"

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A: "Tonight Bubbie is bringing over cake & ice cream for dessert."
E: "That will make me deeelighted!"

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E: "Daddy... you have hair all over! You're just like a dog!"

(But, to be fair, she was actually just referring to his facial stubble. Sadly, had she looked at me a little longer, she more than likely would have said the same thing, as I sit here picking at my stupid chin hair. Nevermind the whole unfortunately upper lip situation...)

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Bubbie: So Emma... you went to the Cottage with Grandma & Grandpa?
Emma: Yes. But I still love you!

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On inviting me to her tea party:
E: "Perhaps you would like to come and have a bite with me?"

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At her 'let's pretend it's your birthday so they'll sing to you' dinner, she felt compelled to comment about our less-than-plesant waitress, loudly:
E: "She has a big, fat bum!"

Fair enough. She did.

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On playing 'basketball' (or, more accurately, throwing a ball in the air and ducking as it lands):
E: "I'm just taking a little bit of shots!"

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On why I opted not to go up to the cottage one weekend:
A: Emma, do you know why I didn't come with to Grandma & Grandpa's cottage?
E: Cuz you are exhausted.

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