My Overtired Boy

I don’t know about you, but when I’m overtired I’m not that much fun to be around.  I exhibit the usual afflictions; slow thinking, irritability, impatience and emotional lability.    But THIRTEEN month olds - -do not.

When Toby is overtired (and its been happening a lot lately as we try to wean down to one nap a day) he gets to be pretty much the opposite. 

He gets HYPER - -his thoughts, actions and movements, although slightly less coordinated, get FASTER. And when I say faster I mean I-am-so-excited-to-go-to-the-other-side-of-the-table-that-I-am-running-at-top-speed-and-didn’t-see-that-book-on-the-floor-and-have-fallen-flat-on-my-face-but-WHO-CARES-because-while-I-was-down-there-I-found-a-CHEERIO-and-I-put-it-in-my-mouth-but-it-fell-out-because-DADA!!!!-I-missed-you-while-I-was-on-the-other-side-of-the-table-AHHHHHHH-maybe-if_scream-loud-enough-you’ll-chase-me-DAMN-that-book-is-still-there-HA!-there’s-DAD-again!!! (and so it continues)

And unlike the usual crankiness of mommy-overtired-ness, when Toby is nearing the end, EVERYTHING is funny.  Like, for example, if you’re walking or RUNNING around the house and your mom is on the computer working and she looks over at you and raises an eyebrow - -now THAT is funny.  Or, if you take your socks off and swirl them around your head as fast as you can while screaming nonsensically and one of them flies out of your hand and lands on the floor.  That is also (apparently) HILARIOUS.

Now, if but some magical stroke of fate, the two above things happen at the SAME TIME (like if your sock flies out of your hand just as your mom looks up from her computer and raises an eyebrow at you) then you’ve reached uber-hilarity and you might as well just drop everything and fall on your face.

Which brings up the issue of emotional lability.  Perhaps the only mutual characteristic I share with my son in overtiredness.  Because when you’re 13 months old and you’re faced with such sidesplitting comedy and you fall on your face as a result of it….it’s time to cry.

But when your parents then race to your rescue and scoop you up into their arms to escort you to a nice warm bath and get your tired body to bed- - you can rest comfortably in their arms and know that life is good.  And really, could there BE anything better than that? 

I must try to remember his energy the next time I’m working late on call.  As I drag myself in to see a patient in the middle of the night I’ll try to imagine how Toby would approach it - with his overtired energy and usually zest for life.  But maybe I’ll skip the part where I swirl my socks above my head.

Lessons in Happiness

Last week I spent an entire evening with a car salesman.  He was a lovely guy, as they all are, but he was giddy because we were actually BUYING a car from him. 

Finally, FINALLY after 10 years of driving his grandfather’s hand me down 1997 Saturn, my uber-conservative-flawless-driving-weekly-car-washing-my-cars-never-die-because-I-take-such-good-care-of-them-husband decided it was time to get a new one.

The car has been around since my high school days.  Which was more than I can say about any part of my body, except perhaps my ears.  But the impacts of childbearing on various body parts will be saved for another rant.  Its not everyday you are handed car-salesman material for your blog so I’ll get to my point.

Enter ‘Mike’ the dealer.  He was a nice guy.  And I know that he HAD to be nice, but I actually think he genuinely WAS nice, which I wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t slowed down the whole process so much.  It took TWO HOURS to sign a few papers and pick up a car.  TWO HOURS!!!  And probably only because Mr. Nice-Guy had to pause and smile so frequently, and reiterate everything twice – once in normal speak and the second time in cliché-speak.

One of my favourites was :

“I just want to make sure you’re 100% happy, 100% of the time.”

Wow.  That’s a LOT of happiness. In fact, I’m pretty sure my blog would suffer a LOT if I became tortured with 100% happiness.  ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF THE TIME.

I pictured what would happen if I used his line while prescribing antidepressants to patients. Even the DRUG reps don’t pretend that’s a possibility.

My second favourite line of the night was,

“And as I go through things with you be sure to ask questions because, you know, the only bad question is the one that isn’t asked!” 

Trying to listen to that without rolling my eyes was a challenge in both maturity and eyeball calisthenics.

…And his closing line…

“Don’t be a stranger!  I know you don’t live in town here but be sure to drop in and let us know how you’re doing if you’re ever in the area.”

Seriously? …SERIOUSLY?  Can you imagine if I actually DID That?

“I’m looking for Mike – no, I’m not a friend or a relative, I dropped in to say hi and let him know I'm feeling kind of under the weather this week after a bad case of gastro…”

It wasn’t ALL bad.  There were some humorous moments in our visit.  Particularly when Mike was off getting more things for us to sign or bouncing around in 100% happiness trying to spread his cheer.  It was in one of these moments alone in Mike’s cubicle that I saw the sign on his wall….

This is to certify that

Mike Smith

Successfully completed 21 hours of

Automotive Certification.

Wow.  TWENTY ONE hours.  I really wanted to ask him if he’d done them all consecutively or if he just did an hour a day for 3 weeks.  Or maybe it was a 25 hour course and he skipped 4 hours.   I will NEVER KNOW because my husband made me PROMISE that I wouldn’t ask.  

It would kind of be like me putting up a sign in my office saying,

This is to certify that

Dr Boyd

Has successfully completed 21 Pap tests

In her Career

Now THAT’S reassuring.

Most of you are probably thinking I’m a mean person right about now.  I’m really not.  Maybe I’m just not 100% happy 100% of the time.  Especially at 9pm after a full day of work and NO DINNER YET and hours of listening to someone in all of their 21 hours of experience try INCESSANTLY to make me manically happy about a practical purchase I have been nagging my husband to make since last CENTURY.

And to PROVE to you that I’m not REALLY a mean person I won’t even conclude this rant with any mention of my TRUE thoughts on the fact that when we finally DID get our car there were BALLOONS on it.  THREE of them.

How lovely.

Dad-versations

I had a great conversation with my dad earlier this week.  He’s usually pretty vague on details and I push him a little so he practices exercising his short-term memory. Sometimes I’m met with dead end one-word answers, but this day he was particularly chatty….

 

ME : “Hi, Dad, is mom home?”

Dad : “Uh…I don’t know….”
ME : “Could you check for me?”
Dad : “OH…well…FINE. She’s out.  She’s at Pat’s.”

ME : “OH that’s nice.  How was your weekend?”

Dad : “Fine.”

Me : “What did you do?”

Dad : “Uh…we went out”

Med : “Where?”

Dad : “Um….to Pat’s”

Me : “Hmmm….really?....  Just you and mom?”
Dad : “Uh….yeah.  Except there was another couple there.  I don’t know their names”

Me : “What did you have for dinner?”

Dad : “Pork”

 

Long pause

 

Dad : “Special pork.  It was made in this….well….special way….it was good.”

Me : “Sounds great.  What are you guys up to tonight?”

Dad : “Uh….Marion’s coming.  We’re watching something.  On TV.”

Me : “The Junos?”

Dad (after a long pause) “….Sure….”

ME : “Dad….are you SURE you’re watching the Junos”

Dad ;”No.  Not really.  More like the skating”

Me ; “Oh good! T he skating that’s great!”  (I was excited because I had seen that there WAS skating on so I figured he was telling the truth…)

 

At this point, I’m feeling pretty impressed with my dad’s information.  This is the most I’ve gotten out of him in ages.  And then I pushed my luck….

 

Me : “Well, we went out for dinner last night”

Dod : “Oh, you did?  That’s nice.  We’re going out for dinner tonight!”

Me : “You are? I thought Marion was coming in to watch the skating.”

Dad : “Nope”

Silence.

 

Choosing to ignore his previous comment I carried on with, what I hoped would be a new topic…

Me : “Isn’t it Marion’s birthday on Wednesday?  Are you guys doing anything for her?’
Dad :  “Oh, yeah….so it is….No I think we did that last night. That’s right.  We celebrated it last night.  We took her out for dinner.”

Riiiiiight.

Me : “Well, Dad, tell mom I called”

Dad : “OK!  But I think she’s out….”

Saviours

If I can impart any sort of wisdom to my children, the one thing I would like to teach them is the saying, “What better purpose on earth than to make life easier for one another”. I can’t remember who said it or where I heard it, but it’s probably my favourite motto and the one I strive the most in life to live by.

This weekend- - while faced with the reality of the next worse thing to being-on-call-all-weekend-AND-working-the-walk-in-clinic, I encountered many individuals who managed, flawlessly, to live by my motto with lucky me being at the receiving end of it all.

Sunday morning, after only 5 hours of sleep, I dreamt that I had been shot in the neck. As I rolled over to tell Rob about my CRAZY dream, I realized WHY I had dreamt it. I couldn’t move my neck. Well, I COULD move my neck, but the screaming probably would have woken the neighbours up. When Rob asked me what I’d DONE to my poor neck, my answer was only, “What HAVEN”T I done?”
Was it the stress of rounding on 25 patients that I didn’t know yesterday? Was it the 5 hours of operating in the OR until midnight last night? Was it the middle of the night JOLT that occurs when you are woken up by your pager? Or was it the hours I spent bent over paperwork?

Whatever it was….I had to do it all again that day. So I said to my neck, “With or without you, neck, the head and I are going to work today”. It reluctantly agreed to come along with us but not without letting me know how it felt about it.

Saviour number 1 were the ICU nurses. As I hobbled into the ICU they were in the staff room charting. One look at me and I was ordered to drop my bags, peel my clothes off and sit down for a massage. ICU nurses are BUSY. But man, can they give good massages. And the fact that they took the time to loosen me up and listen to my bitching was above and beyond. By the end of my 15 minutes in the ICU I could turn my head about 5 degrees in either direction. I was sent on my way with promises of hourly back rubs and a quiet pager.

Saviour #2 was my colleague, Mark, who rounded in the ICU after me and heard from the concerned nurses about my neck. He didn’t even hesitate before offering me a script for muscle relaxants and a promise to round on my inpatients while I lay drugged up in a flexeril-induced-stupor.

For a colleague to even OFFER to take over your load for the rest of the weekend is truly altruistic.

I didn’t take him up on the offer, but I didn’t need to. What started off looking like a never-ending day of pain and suffering, soon turned into a day of gratitude. If only we could all learn to do the same. What a wonderful world we would live in...

Traitor Food

I guess every parent thinks their kid is special. And talented.  And unique.

Well, Rob and I have come across a NUMBER of unique abilities that Toby has.  But my recent discovery has been abilities in mouth and tongue acrobatics.

Toby loves to eat.  But sitting still for 10 minutes while someone puts mouthful after mouthful of food into your mouth is BORING.  So he likes to play as he eats.  And Rob and I realize that this is a dangerous habit, so we indulge him by handing him bowls, spoons and tupperware (with lids) to keep him occupied while we stuff his mouth with food.

It not only keeps him entertained, but it does expand his palate.  Put a piece of cracker inside a see through container with a lid on it and he’ll work at taking that lid off so he can throw that piece of cracker on the floorfor at least 30 seconds.  Which isn’t much. But you can get a lot of food into his mouth in 30 seconds.  Even the most disgusting taste concoctions- - boiled cabbage, canned turkey and vegetable bright orange stuff….a little tupperware distraction and it all goes in….

But every now and then, when we least expect it….a TRAITOR emerges.

USUSALLY it’s a traitor piece of corn.  But every now and then – like when he’s eating lasagne or chicken and rice a traitor piece of meat emerges.  And Toby will STOP playing  and slowly put down his spoon or fork or piece of Tupperware  and then look up at me and make a face.

And very slowly….he’ll raise his left eyebrow as his silent accusation screams, “YOU put a TRAITOR in my MOUTH and I am now going to EJECT IT.  WATCH”

And very slowly, his mouth will contort into a million and one different angles and before you know it, the “traitor” piece of food is being ejected from his mouth.

 

What is truly remarkable about this is that he somehow manages to SEPARATE this horrific piece of food from the rest of the food. And, being a boy who loves to eat, he wouldn’t want to waste the rest of the mouthful on a lousy traitor piece.  So he somehow manages to eject that ONE piece of corn while salvaging the rest - all with his unique abilities in tongue and mouth acrobatics.

What can I say - -my boy has talent.

Watch out all ye who have baby girls- - my boy is going to be “that kid” who can woo YOUR kid with his ability to knot a cherry stem in his mouth.  Just wait and see....

Rudolph the Red Nosed Rider

Toby had another fall today. He as SO excited to get outside that he ran face first into the driveway.   Ifonly he hadn’t opened his mouth to cry about it halfway down, he could have avoided filling his mouth with dirt, but I guess that’s the thing to do when the world betrays you by placing uneven ground beneath your eager feet. Poor little guy has scrapes on his forehead and a chaffed nose.  He really DOES deserve his new nickname, Rudolph.  But luckily, Dad saved the day by bringing his tricycle around the corner and he soon forgot about he fact that he had a scraped up nose and a mouth full of gravel.  He LOVES his tricycle.

I know – he’s only 12 months old - -but he has this awesome tricycle given to him by his cousin Nicole that comes with a pole sticking straight up the back which allows him to be pushed on it.  Am I worried he’s going to fall off?  HA!!!  No way-   if he approaches anything else in life with the same determination that he uses to hold onto those handle bars this kid is going to go far.

I’ll post a few photos so you can see just how seriously he takes this new sport.  IN fact he’s SO serious about “trike-riding” that we weren’t totally sure he liked it at first.  (See facial expression #1) That is, until we said “All Done”.   He started to cry.  So we walked around the driveway a little bit more and tried to lift him off.  No way.  Full blown hissy fit.  So we decided to walk him down the street.

Keep in mind where we live.  “Walking down the street” is no small feat.  It was a lengthy walk.  And Rob and I were sure tuckered out by the end.  And you would think the kid who has never sat still long enough to enjoy page 2 of any book would have become maybe MILDLY tired of this activity?  No such luck.

We finally resorted to parking the tricycle in the corner of the garage, facing a nice concrete, grey wall.  With Toby still on it.

It took him 5 minutes before he willingly got off.

I hope he doesn’t discover motor cross until he’s at least 2 and a half.

Love hurts

I feel like I’ve been beaten up.  I just left Toby’s room after putting him down for a nap.  We had had a big play outside so I was trying to get him to unwind by having some down time in his room.  OK, so maybe just mommy needed down time.  As I lay on the floor, Toby just ran around me dropping books onto my head, pulling my hair, sticking his fingers up my nose and then biting me.   It felt like some sort of weird torture ritual run by extremely short people with bad balance.  Realizing my "relaxation plan" was not going to work, I got out the sleep sack and put him into bed.  

I've been feeling badly for Toby these past few days, because he's trying desperately to learn the difference between kisses and bites.  We have taught him that kissing is affectionate and reward him endlessly with joyous exclamations and multiple kisses and hugs whenever he opens his big wet slobbery mouth and plants a fat one on our cheeks.  (ESPECIALLY if he does it on command!)  Every morning as I leave to go to work, Rob and Toby stand at the door and wave goodbye and then we all exchange kisses.  I wouldn't trade it for the world - -But over the past few days he has taken it a step further and ended his wonderful slobbery kiss with a CHOMP.  And having 4 teeth, this isn't something that goes without a reaction.   Usually a loud "OUCH" or "NO" but depending on the surprise factor, sometimes he gets pulled off or dropped in the process.  Either way, it scares him a little and I think he is confused as to why he's getting into trouble for showing us that he loves us.  Usually he goes to try again but often with the same result.  Its one of those tough decisions - -do I let him repeatedly bite my face in the hopes that he will learn the difference between bites or kisses or am I just being an idiot and letting my son bite my face?  Its one of MANY times I've wished I could rationally sit him down and EXPLAIN to him the difference and what he's doing wrong.  I guess I just have to keep being persistent and hope he gets it before someone puts an anonymous call into some domestic violence hotline.  IT would be pretty embarassing to have to explain -"Oh no, our home is very safe- - I just keep letting my kid bite me in the face."