Actual Conversation at Breakfast

Me: Jude! Breakfast!
Jude: (scampering in from living room) Oh! Mummy! (sits on stool) Did you make this yourself?
Me: Yes I did.
Jude: (takes a taste) I can't believe it!

wow! More than a month

Since my last post.

This one will be light. Justin is at school all weekend so I am going into my 7th day in a row with the kids by myself.

As usual last night I was taking requests for the bedtime nursery rhyme singalong. Jude requested one of his favourites, Mary Had a Little Lamb. So I start singing and Jude yells out,

"No! Steve!"

Um, what? I rack my brain trying to come up with a song that has the name Steve in it. Of course I draw a blank.

"Are you saying 'Steve'?" I have to ask for clarification.

"Yeah, Steve," Jude confirms.

Uhhhh. "Sing it?"

Jude starts mumbling something to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb.

"You want me to sing, 'Steve Had a Little Lamb'?"

"Yeah!" Jude nods enthusiastically.

And that is how I came to sing, "Steve Had a Little Lamb" as a bedtime song to Jude last night.

For the record, we have no idea why of all the names he could have chosen he decided to go with Steve.

Procrastionation - or Why You Should Never Speak In Front of a Toddler

Let me first address the beginning of this post's title: Procrastination. We are hosting two Christmas dinners back to back starting tonight. And Justin currently has the kids at work with him. Which means I should really be doing prep work in the kitchen or cleaning the living room or even something more self centered but nonetheless on my to-do list, such as straightening my hair.
I'm on the Internet.
Now to the second portion of the title. Jude has taken on the personality of a teenager. He's two. It started in the mornings. I would go in to wake the little guy up and Jude would roll around pulling the covers over his head, moaning, "Nooooo, sleeeeeeping." And then I would finally drag him out of bed and he would sulk around like a 15 year old who didn't study for a test that day.

But let me share little snippets of conversations actually taking place in the Donovan household on a now daily basis.
"Jude, it's time for bed." (For example, said by either myself or Justin).
"Sooooo?"
"So come put your jammies on."
"Nah," very dismissive, with a shrug of his little two year old shoulders.
"Um. Yeah. Come here, now. It's bed time." The parent starts to sound a little stern. A little exasperated, a little shocked to hear the previously sweet little boy being so disobedient.
"You're ridiculous!" Jude will yell, at which point Justin and I will turn to each other.
"Did he just call me 'ridiculous'?"
"Yes."

This little conversation might play out two or three times in a day. Always ending the same way - with Justin and I unable to stop smirking at the cheeky little monkey and probably a pretty good tickle session where we repeat over and over "Don't tell me I'm ridiculous, YOU'RE ridiculous. YOU'RE ridiculous!" while Jude screams with laughter.

I mean really, ridiculous? Where does he get this stuff from? It's ridiculous.

Minding his Ps and Qs

So I've mentioned that Jude is very polite. He always says "thank you" he mostly says "please" (although sometimes it's in a whiny bratty kind of way, "Peeeeeeassssssssseeeeeeeeee") and recently he started to say "excuse me" when trying to get by other people or inanimate objects (it winds up sounding more like "soosfee" or something similar, but when you move and he gets by you, he always turns around and says "thank you").
Lately though, he's been taking it a bit far. Like the past few days, when he climbs up or down the stairs he's always careful to stop at the end and say, "Tank You! Tank You Stairs!"
Thank you stairs? Thanks for allowing me to move from one level of the house to the next with ease? Thanks for not making me trip and fall down? What a character.

One more example:

Of why I call my son a nutbar. I was cutting his fingernails the other day and he wasn't happy about it. He was screaming and crying and wriggling every which way. Finally, I finished and I stood him up and said, "All done!" And sent him on his way. He sniffled a couple of times and turned to me and said, "Thank you." And then ran off to play with his toys.

Yesterday I cleaned the spare room/office. It was long overdue and I didn't just tidy, I washed windows, curtains, baseboards etc. I called Justin to come up and take a look when I was done and of course Jude raced to see what was happening. Jude stepped into the room, looked around and yelled, "Oh! Clean!"
This room was so messy that a 21 month old noticed a difference. While Justin admired my handiwork, Jude and I Windexed the mirrored closet doors. Probably the biggest disappointment in this boy's life occurred during this process. When I squirted the Windex and handed him a paper towel, he happily went to cleaning the door. It wasn't until all the Windex was wiped away and I refused him the bottle that he collapsed in a heap on the floor, crying, sobbing, "Clean, clean, clean" through his tears.

Not enough for their own post

A few anecdotes:

On Saturday we had some business to attend to in America and got stuck waiting at the border. We had left fairly early (so before breakfast) hoping that the kids would sleep in the car until we could get across and get something to eat... But we brought emergency supplies just in case. Jude and Sophie slept right up to the Queenston/Lewiston bridge and then woke up. Jude hammed it up for people in the cars around us (I kept seeing people drive past us smiling and waving at my backseat and hearing Jude yelling, "Hi!"). Sophie woke up and started crying and it was like, suddenly, she stopped. I turned around to make sure she was still breathing and I noticed that Jude was holding her hand. What a nice brother. And then I noticed all the cheerios on Sophie's lap. And that he wasn't holding her hand; he was passing her a cheerio. (Sophie is still strictly breast milk).

We are trying to give Sophie more tummy time, to get her ready for crawling. She doesn't like it so much. Especially when a certain older brother climbs on her back and yells, "Horsey!"

In this heat I am always afraid that Jude isn't drinking enough water. Especially since we are reluctant to give him a sippy cup and let him carry it around with him. He has a habit of shaking the water out into the least desirable places like the telephone charger, the hardwood floors, his books etc. I've started giving him half an inch or so of water at a time in a big plastic cup that he can drink like a big boy, and that I can make him drink in front of me. Yesterday I was drinking water from one of those cups and Jude came over for a sip. It was probably about half full and Jude took a sip or two of his own and then wandered over to where Sophie was sitting in the exersaucer. And he gave her a sip. And the water splashed all down the front of her shirt. The cold cold water fresh from the Brita jug. And she screamed bloody murder. Jude panicked and I grabbed the water before he could drop it and he started banging poor Sophie on the back saying, "O-kay! O-Kay! O-kay!"

I guess I have new pictures on the camera, but then I would have to go all the way downstairs to get the card. So maybe later today or tomorrow I will do a picture post.

part II

People often ask me what it's like with two kids. These are usually people who only have one and are thinking about a second. My standard response is that it isn't as hard as other people tell you it will be. Because I had a lot of people telling me two under a year and a half would be like trying to catch a chicken with one hand tied behind your back. It's not that bad.
It took me a while to get into the groove, but now I pretty much have my routine down. My one trouble time is breakfast. Both kids are hungry, both kids are looking for vastly different things in terms of breakfast and both want to eat NOW.
This morning was particularly stressful. Sophie was in the living room crying and Jude was in the kitchen with me pulling me in the direction of the fridge (eggs) and the cupboard (cheerios) and the counter (fruit) and getting upset each time I told him I had things under control (the egg was in the pan, the fruit was on the cutting board). I took a second to run in and offer a quick kiss to Sophie (which only ended up making her more upset when I rushed back out to check on the egg) and guess what I heard when I came into the kitchen.
Jude was sitting at the counter on one of the stools, wearing nothing but a diaper and a backwards baseball. He started banging on the counter with his fists.
"Service, please! Service please!" He was yelling at me.
Gee, I wonder where he got that one from.

He's funny too...

Justin has this kind of annoying habit of continually asking Jude who his best friend is. He's teaching him by repetition:

"Who's your best friend?" And the answer is always, "Daddy."

The other night Justin was in the powder room washing Jude's hands and I heard Justin ask the same tired old question, which Jude has heard so many times, he knows what to say.

"Who's your best friend?" Justin asks.

"ELMO!" came the response (except Jude mispronounces it adorably, "AL-mo").

this picture was taken at Jude's first birthday

Just called to say I love you: Part Two

The other night, I was talking to Auntie Kate while lying with Sophie and Jude. Justin came in to take Jude off to bed and before he picked him up, he told Jude to say night night to mummy and Sophie. So as per usual, Jude came over and gave Sophie a nice big wet kiss on her head and then gave me a pretty good smacker on the lips. Katie, listening to all this over the speakerphone, said, "Night night Jude!" and bless Jude's little heart, he came running over and kissed the phone.

On an unrelated note, last night during the same ritual Jude gave Sophie her kiss, then held my face between his hands and gave me my kiss, then rushed over to the bottle of Avene Mineral Water Spray that I have been alternately spraying on his diaper rash and then on his face because it makes him giggle (incidentally, it really works on the diaper rash), and kissed it as well.

The Hardest Working One Year Old

Jude is what you might call busy. And you would say it like that, you would be able to hear the italics in your voice. His days are busy, his evenings are busy, his weekends are busy. He has so much to do he barely has the time to play...


Things Jude must do:

• Empty the cupboards of all their contents - distribute canned goods throughout the living room
• Empty the silverware drawer of all it's spoons - all sizes must be accounted for - carry spoons throughout house, leaving them in creative places
• Remove each diaper wipe from container and use to wipe nose, wipe coffee table, wipe floor
• Sweep, mop, and vacuum floor - poorly - leave broom, mop and vacuum hose lying around in places mummy can trip



• Water the carpet using sippy cup as watering can
• Transport all sand from sandbox into house using a variety of sandbox toys, making sure to leave sandbox toys in the living room
• Climb up onto kitchen counter and make personal/professional phone calls - hang up with a shriek when mummy asks who's on the phone
• Ensure baby sister does not fall asleep *very important*



• Empty clothes from all dresser drawers within reach
• Empty garbage cans piece by piece
• Throw self on mummy's back whenever she crouches down to pick something up
• Smile adorably and offer hugs and kisses randomly

And these are just things he has to do around our house... We were at Nan's on the long weekend, and that was a whole other story... Poor Jude had to wash the car, sweep the driveway, sweep the back patio, fill the watering can with stones.... his list just goes on and on.

At least he's got something to look forward to at the end of the day:

Like Mother Like Son

To all the people who I have already told this amusing anecdote to: I'm sorry.

My mum has told me a thousand times a cute story about my toddler mischief, ending in a hilarious punch line, delivered by a 2 year old (that would be me). Basically, I did something naughty and when my mum asked who did it, I blamed my baby sister (who couldn't move, much less talk) and when my mother expressed doubt in the fact that the culprit could have been Katie, I looked her in the eye and said, "Who are you going to believe? Me, who tells the truth? Or her? Who lies."

27ish years later:

Jude was playing with the remote for the DVD. At some point he pressed the "open" button and the tray came out of the player. This amused Jude to no end, and after confirming that it was he who made the tray come out, he set about trying to repeat his feat.
Now, Jude has been known to cause havoc with the DVD player, so I quickly put an end to his fun. A little while later, I was in the kitchen making Jude's lunch when I heard the unmistakable sound of the DVD player opening.
"What are you doing in there?" I called.
Jude let out a very guilty and excited shriek and I heard the quick pitter patter of his little footsteps running away. When I looked out into the living room, Jude was no where to be found. And the remote for the DVD player? It was sitting beside Sophie.

I just called...

To say, "I love you."

Jude calling Auntie Kate in Calgary. Miss you!