A Day Out With Thomas and Friends

We went to see Thomas the tank engine on Sunday. We've sort of been plugging Thomas and his buddies shamelessly - the Rev W. Awdry would be proud of us. I'm not sure exactly why we want Deaglan to love Thomas but we've been collecting the pieces to build a train set, we watch the show on Treehouse all the time and I even found six DVD's of different episodes at Costco for $24.99.

So when we found out that Thomas and Sir Topham Hatt were coming to a town near us, we bought tickets and counted down the days. Everytime the ad for this event came on, Deaglan would squeal, point and say "Taw-Ass!" Parents really need to harness this power they have over their kids and use it wisely. (I don't know if Shaune and I are the sharpest knives in the drawer encouraging him to covet such an expensive toy - but that's fodder for another post).

Anyway the day arrived and reality couldn't have been further from our expectations. For one thing we were met with monsoon-like weather as soon as we left the shelter of our car without umbrellas or proper foot gear. By the end of the day I could have easily rocked out on stage with Alice Cooper and fit right in. However, the weather was the least of our annoyances.

Apparently I had misunderstood the ticket buying process. So when I went to pick up the $50. tickets ($21.99 for each Shaune and I -Deaglan was free because he is under two), the lady told me that my train reservation was that morning at 8:45 and it was now 12:30 pm so we had missed our train. And before I could swallow the lump of anger that had risen in my throat, she said in the most condescending way: We'll try to fit you on the train but you'll have to wait until all of the passengers who booked their tickets properly get on - you and your family may not get to sit beside each other.

And do you know what that $50 got us???? A freaking 25 minute train ride in a stuffy old, out of commission train car whose windows were sealed shut, jammed full of other irritated parents with hyped up toddlers screetching to see Thomas.

There were all sorts of booths and kiosks too but these were selling Thomas paraphernalia at inflated crazy prices. The only 'free' offerings were a tired out old balloon-animal lady whose heart must have sank every time she looked up to see a line of about 60 families all waiting to ask for a giraffe or weiner dog and three big buckets full of dish soap and enormous plastic tennis racket-like contraptions meant to be used to blow bubbles.

And Deaglan? I swear that the terrible two's officially began right there in the rain amidst the soapy puddles of water while my mascara was running in streams down my face. I could not wrangle that kid to save my life. He was a mouthy, unruly little wild man shouting "nnnoooo!!" at every single thing we said. And every time I tried to pick him up to get to the next place he acted as if I beat him on a regular basis, writhing and wriggling out of my grasp. If someone had bothered to get it on film it would have made an effective birth control ad!

At the beginning of the day we had excitedly planned to take advantage of some of the other features of the town in which the event was held. But by the end of that $50 train ride Shaune and I wanted to get as far away from Thomas and his friends as we could. We walked the half mile to the parking spot - I'm still surprised that we weren't charged for parking - and drove home in silence.

Love letter to a toddler

Dear Deaglan,

It isn’t because I had nothing to do on the eve of your 18 month birthday that I looked up the word “toddler” in the dictionary and found the meaning to be disproportionate to the event in real life. It said that a toddler is someone who toddles, a young child learning to walk. I think that this is equivalent to saying that water is wet – sorely lacking in the rich and finely wrought details that embody the idea.

If I was going to define toddler I would include particulars like the definitive way you’ve been letting us know when you are finished with a specific toy or food these days – and of course, like with all things there is room for refinement here – a screechy cry, and then vehement head shaking followed by throwing that particular item on the floor will not always be acceptable forms of expressing your censure. And just on a side note, your Dad spent a lot of time and effort making those chicken nuggets, meatballs and perogies you so easily brush off of your highchair without so much as a courtesy nibble. You have no idea the lengths to which he went to puree the vegetables he concealed within them. I, for one, thought they were delicious. I’m just saying – would it kill you to take one bite just to humour him??

And speaking of my opinion, I’m not sure that you are old enough to be graduating into the Toddler Room at daycare this week. I mean if we go back to the dictionary definition of this point in your life, how can they justify moving you to a class with one less educator if you are just learning to toddle???

On the other hand they just might know what they’re talking about because their cribs have high enough sides to prevent you from climbing out. This issue has recently come to our attention at home – something else missing from Webster’s scant definition of toddler-hood. You are now sleeping in a big boy bed because last week we noticed that you are a monkey-climber and can balance your entire little body on the ledge of the crib making it possible for you to break your little neck which panicked me to the point where my worst fears flashed before my eyes and I had to sit down just to catch my breath but not before I demanded that your Dad take down one of the sides that very minute.

And so Deaglan it isn’t that I’m frustrated with all of these recent changes that just happen to coincide with this first rite-of-passage (which hasn’t been properly defined by Webster’s Dictionary if you ask me), the one they say is when a child first learns to leave the safety and comfort of his primary caregivers. It’s just that I’m watching you grow taller, stronger, smarter, braver, definitely and heartbreakingly cuter and my worry (and this is most likely just first-time-mother anxiety in me) is this. That you may someday outgrow me.

Love Mom

Gone baby...gone

Today I learned a few things. Like the fact that my baby is quickly entering into toddler-hood and that I need to stop wearing my low-rise jeans with my full figured granny briefs. Too much information? Please hear me out.

Before doing some grocery shopping, I decided to compete for the Greatest Mom Award and take Deaglan to the park, then to the toystore and then to the bookstore.
When we got to the park I was completely unprepared for the wind. Literally unprepared. I had Deaglan outfitted in a very light jacket and baseball hat. Earlier when I checked, the sun was shining and I was fooled into dressing for a warm spring day. So, realizing it was too late to turn back - he'd already spotted the swings - I decided to do a very shortened version of going to the park. We spent a few minutes on the swings, climbed up to the big tin symbol so he could bang it around like a crazed lunatic (you wouldn't believe the wild look he gets on his face while pounding on what looks like the top of a metal garbage can), and then finally, did two runs down the slide together. After this I let him know that it was time to go back to the car.

Fit number one and exhibit A of bad jeans/granny underwear combo: He dropped to his knees right there on the pavement and began screeching and crying at me. Only seconds earlier I was holding his hand so now it looked like I was dragging him along. I looked around to see if anyone was watching this amazing new ability he had developed. What was this? A tantrum? When did these start? Ever so carefully I bent down, pulling my t-shirt down over my now very visible enormous light-blue briefs, grabbed the kid, scanned the park to see if anyone was snickering or worse yet coming toward me with the fashion police to make an arrest.

Determined to at least be a runner-up in my make-believe parent-pageant I headed to Toys R Us where I plopped him down in front of the Thomas the Train display while I scrutinized the shelves trying to decide on an addition to our growing Thomas collection. Once decided, I went over, grabbed Deaglan and headed toward the check-out.

Fit number two and exhibit B of terrible jean-underwear combo: This time he arched his back and I had to decide whether to drop the diaper bag and train parts or drop him. Of course I chose the former but this meant I had to bend over again and show what seemed like every family within a 10 km radius my hideous fashion choices.

I hurriedly paid for the toy and lugged the package, diaper bag and wailing boy next door to the bookstore/Starbucks with the aim of quieting him down with a drink and snack. Wouldn't you know it that the only empty chairs were in front of their Thomas the train display. While I rifled through the diaper bag he walked right over to a little girl and grabbed the Percy engine she was holding. The little girl understandably started crying but instead of giving it back my little angel started screaming at her. Who was this and where was my sweet little baby??

I finally did get the grocery shopping done but not without a ton of bribary - I handed over the car keys, my cell phone, an empty raisin box, a pack of gum and even my wallet to keep the child from throwing another of these fits justifying this by telling myself that when I got home I would research some parenting sites and prepare myself for this new phase of mommy-hood. I also made a mental note to go underwear shopping.
I'm home now and I am spent!