The Gong Show

Juliette is now 6 months and clearly life is more hectic with two kids and a business, than it was with Dex. This is my second blog in 6 months. The truth is, it's easier bringing home the second baby than it was bringing home the first because your freedom has already been stolen by number one so what the hell. What does, however, change is the amount of work. Like anything, the work load doubles. Two kids waking up and needing to be fed, two kids needing to be dressed - not to mention the breastfeeding of the baby and of Will. When Juliette was about a week old I had made her a bath in one of those plastic baby bath thingy's. I put it on the bathroom counter and brought her into her room to get her undressed. Dex was in the bathroom pooping. We only have one bathroom. Dex is calling for me but I'm ignoring him as this is something I tend to do a lot of now that I've brought another baby into the mix. Anyhow, I come into the bathroom and put the baby in her bath because she is screaming I'm assuming because she's cold, so I want to put her in the bath as quickly as possible. As I'm putting her in the tub, Dex has started to cry. He has his pants around his ankles and is pretty much incoherent. Through the noise of the double child cry, I see that he has missed the toilet and dropped a deuce in the middle of the bathroom floor. Oh Lord. I've got one hand on the baby in the tub, and the other reaching for something to pick up the turd. Dex is now reaching unbelievable decibels and so is the baby. As I'm picking up the floor turd (with my bare hands) and trying not to let two high pitched cries bother me, I'm going back to a time in my mind when I was quite glamorous. I'm remembering making out with a gorgeous young Spaniard on the banks of the Thames or the time I went to the opera in Vienna. These are real things that I actually did. But now I'm picking up floor turds. Don't get me wrong, Motherhood is rewarding, and sometimes that reward comes in the form of a big floor steamer.

What the hell is going on

So the baby showed up which you probably could have guessed considering last time I wrote a blog I was overdue. She was born on April 20th which is 420 and also Hitlers birthday so pretty opposite ends of the spectrum. I can see it already. Some pimply faced loser teenage boy will say to my beautiful daughter, "Hey Juliette, your birthday is on the same day as the international day of weed! Wanna smoke a joint?" Honestly. That's what I'M supposed to be doing on her birthday. Stupid fake teenage boys. Anyhow she's the cutest thing of all time and was much easier on the old birth canal. I guess her brother really paved the way with his massive head. It's like the Lincoln Tunnel down there. Sexy. She was only 7lbs, 2 oz so I wasn't given a VagAnus (I can't take credit for this amazing word) this time around. Needless to say if I thought one child was a gong show, two is almost comical. Oh and this time around, I'm self employed so there's no Mat Leave per say. Two weeks after Juliette was born I was shooting this big executive type and as we're halfway through the take I can feel it happening. Yup that weird tingly sensation when you're about to leak boob milk all over. So it happened but no one seemed to notice, or at least pretended not to. Anyhow, things have settled down slightly so I figured now would be a good time to fire up the ol' blog again. The second time around is a whole lot less fanfare as you know or can imagine. No showers, no birth classes - which are both good things. What a colossal waste of money those birth classes are. Can anyone who has had a baby honestly say they can recall anything that the hippy teacher was talking about when you were pushing a human out of your Vagina, Sasnatchewan? Anyhow, I guess because we had a girl this time around we got lots of cute girly things for her. But the BEST present we got was a piece of clothing I have no words for.

My best description is Crotchless Baby Pants.So I guess I do have words for it. These came from Dexter's daycare provider, which one would think was pretty creepy, but I don't think she even had a clue that these crotchless wonders were in there. I've had conversations with a lot of people regarding the purpose of the crotch hole in these pants. Is it to change a diaper? Impossible. Is it to show off a stylish pair of baby underwear? Maybe but what's the point in that? Are they simply crotchless baby pants? Yup. Pretty much. Again, I don't think Shakira (Dex's daycare lady) had a clue that these were a part of this massive, ornate box of baby clothes she gave us. It was one of those boxes that has a clear plastic top and all of these yellow baby clothes push pinned into styrofoam. Like it would be in the window of an old family owned clothing store on the Danforth that sells Baptism dresses. You know what I'm talking about? Anyhow, there was a bunch of Chinese writing on the box so somewhere in China, there is a place that is manufacturing crotchless baby pants. Someone tell the CBC. I smell a Passionate Eye. The baby is now 5 months so I've got an arsenal of material from a woman telling me that Red heads used to be burned at the stake (Juliette is a red head) to forgetting I even had a new baby. I'll tell you that one really quick. Again, having the second is way smoother than the first as your freedom and sleep was already ripped from you once you had the first one. So Will and I and Dex and week old Juliette went and looked at this house for sale, out of curiousity, because it was on a ravine. I put the baby, in her car seat on the living room floor and toured the house while also making sure Dex didn't destroy it. We're in the basement chatting about the house when this very concerned looking real estate agent pokes her head around the corner and says, "Um, someone jus left a baby upstairs, is it yours?" I immediately looked at her like she was the idiot and started saying "Nnnn...YES! Shit , she's ours!" Will and I start laughing because we honestly forgot about her, for just a minute, because she was literally a week old and it oddly takes some time to a) remember the baby's name and b) remember that you've had a baby. I think it's because you're so busy with the other one and work and everything that it's just not totally the focus like number one was. I figure that's why the youngest child is always the most well adjusted. I'm the youngest of four.Anyhow, this woman was there to show some couple the house and looked at us like we might have been the ones whose idea it was to use chemical warfare in Syria. So up we went and she was cute as can be, sleeping away. No harm, no foul. Shit. Baby just woke up and she's gonna want to go to the breastaurant. Gotta go. Until next time.

I need a chamber maid

My baby was due yesterday but I've been convinced she's coming for the past 3 weeks so basically to say I'm on edge is an understatement. One, I'm ready to not be pregnant and pee upwards of 7-8 times a night. Seriously. This baby's head has been down for about a month now which basically means that my bladder is a pancake and I don't know how I don't suffer from dehydration I've been peeing so much. I was debating whether or not I would write about what I'm about to say but I feel like if I share this information with you, perhaps it might help someone. You know how people do that? They'll tell their story and then say, "If it helps just one person..." Usually it's something really awful about like rape or some kind of disorder that will inspire people to get help. My story to help the world is about urination. Anyhow, once my peeing got to such ridiculous amounts in the night I decided to do what my French ancestors did before me. You see The Primeaus come from a long line of aristocracy hailing from the most Northern parts of Ontario. There was no in door plumbing. There was no outdoor plumbing. There was holes and chamber pots. Getting up 7 times a night and traipsing to the bathroom was starting to get to me so I decided to get back to my primal roots. I started using a chamber pot. Yup. I think watching Downton Abbey at the time may have helped me feel as though it was the right thing to do. If Lady Mary and Lady Grantham use a chamber pot than why can't I? They're ladies! Anyhow, it was a god send and think what you will, but if you're up 7 times a night to pee you start to get desperate and quite honestly I'm not ashamed. Well, I'm a little bit ashamed but that's a feeling I've grown accustomed to over the years. My favorite part of all of this is that most of my friends who I've told this to either laugh their heads off or are sort of grossed out. The one person who thought it was a perfectly fine idea, in fact a great idea, is my mother in law. She grew up in the country in New Zealand. I guess I didn't really need to say the country. It's like saying "she grew up in the city in Manhattan." So anyhow ladies, if a tiny humans head is pushing on your bladder for upwards of a month, don't be ashamed to do what nature intended. Well, nature in the 1800's. I hope this helped even just one person.

In the shit

It has been a REALLY long time since I wrote a blog about my time in the MotherHood.I pretty much fell off the blog train after Dex turned 2. It was a combination of a few things really: modelling for the website Five Foot 3 and Proud, as well as auditioning to be the next Pope. I really have no excuse but the craziness of life, and to be honest, writing about life with a 2 year old, for a year, would have been a series of me going on and on about how something that isn't even 3 feet tall can honestly make you lose your mind with both love and frustration. Maybe more frustration than love most days. We recently went on a trip to Barbados and it was one of those trips where you're sure you're going to somehow figure out a way to move your life down there and just become island folks. It occurred to me, while I was there, why everyone is so laid back and seems so nice to one another. They NEVER have to put a toddler in a fucking snowsuit. EVER. And the marijuana. The snowsuit issue has become the bain of my existence. I understand why Dex dosen't want to wear one, I don't want to wear one either but I do. Even when it's not that cold out. It's difficult to pee when you're in a one piece creme coloured snowsuit all day but I do it, because it's practical. Sometimes it's difficult showing up at business meetings while everyone waits for you to take off your one piece, belted snowsuit, but you know what, I'm not gonna freeze for them, or anyone else. Anyhow, the best move is when he plays limp when you're trying to get him into this damn thing. It's probably my own fault. It's a move I use during sex. Anyhow, I think it's during those times, when you're desperate to get out of your house, and your defiant toddler won't do anything you ask of him, when I'm closest to losing my mind. I had a neighbour, who has two young boys, ask me if I ever spank Dex. I, personally, don't spank him but it's not that I think someone is evil if they spank their kid. I got spanked and it was probably for the best. Problem with me is I suffer from a tremendous amount of Catholic guilt. Although I've nearly shaken all of the Catholic off of me, I still have a film of guilt that I just can't seem to get rid of. That, and a fear of zombies. I mean, for 13 years of Catholic education I was told that Jesus rose from the dead. Ummmm, I don't want to be the one stating the obvious here but in my books, that makes him one of the first recorded zombies. Anyhow, I don't utilize the spank method but by all means if that's your thing, I don't judge. I may have judged before I had a toddler but honestly, they can try your patience so hard that it takes everything in you not to seriously lose it. You know what also makes you want to lose it? Potty training. I had a lot of people tell me, "You'll know when they're ready". Well as a bit of a control freak I figured, "he'll be ready when I say he's ready." The best was when I took a week off to just dedicate to potty training. We were getting the car detailed downtown and I took Dex to St.Lawerence Market to kill some time. I had him in underwear because I was going with the cold turkey method, which, as a former smoker, I should have known never works. Sure enough he drops a MASSIVE deuce in between the Kosliks mustard and the cheese stand. Thankfully those two battling smells masked the toddler crap scent. Unfortunately this wasn't a solid turd. It was GROSS and I had to go to the washroom, take everything off of him because there was crap everywhere. Up his shirt, on his pants, somehow on his socks. So now I have a naked 2.5 year old in the public bathroom, which now smells like shite, who is running around singing or doing whatever. I really don't remember because I was in the midst of wrapping a pair of tiny blue underwear, (that looked like a 300 pound man had unleashed 4 weeks of eating stew in them) up in the free St Lawerence Market newspaper. This woman opens the door and sees me, covered in shit, my son, naked and covered in shit and for some reason I think I remember a bird being in the washroom. I can't be too sure. She had a slight look of horror on her face until I somehow managed to utter, "Potty training isn't going too well" at which she laughed. I'm assuming she had either been through it with a kid, or herself wasn't potty trained. I managed to get him cleaned up as best as I could but anyone who has had to clean, not so solid shit, off of a little boy knows that sometimes only a bath will get those little balls clean. Would you have ever thought, when you were bouncing around the world at 24, seeing amazing things and discovering the possibilities of your life, that cleaning poop off of tiny balls would be a real problem in your future? So then I just gave up and sure enough, about 2 weeks before his 3rd birthday, just like I had been told, Dex came up to me and said he had to poop. He told me when he was ready. I guess some advice is worth listening too. Speaking of poop, I'm about to give birth in 4 weeks. Yup, number two on the way. And a baby.