Another month went by!
Whining and throwing tantrums. Not me—him. These are this month’s big milestones. Yay… not.
I guess Mark is getting close to the “terrible twos”, even though technically he is five months early.
Strangely, Mark’s tantrums don’t bother me so much. His eyes tightly closed, he cries huge crocodile tears that fall to the ground (for added drama) and his face turns bright red. He stands there and simultaneously tries to hit me and cling to my legs—he can’t decide whether he hates me or wants a hug.
“Ooooh… what happened?” you may inquire nicely.
Take your pick. Maybe I needed to leave the store and Mark didn’t feel like it. Maybe the bird flew away. Maybe he wanted to walk on the neighbours’ lawn and I didn’t let him. Maybe I dared putting a shirt on him.
Oh well. I drag him out of the way and just wait for him to stop crying. There is nothing else I can do.
Mark’s constant whining, on this other side, is like nails on a chalkboard. I just can’t stand it. He doesn’t say anything but goes “mmm…” “MMMM!” louder and louder, like a loud mosquito buzzing above my head. It’s fucking annoying because I don’t know what he wants and I can’t always guess. And sometime, he moans and whines for no reason. It’s like living with a non-verbal teen (who doesn’t even want to be alone in his room—I wish, I’d get a break!).
Mark still doesn’t speak much, although he says “mei you” (“no more” or “no” in Chinese), “yeye” (technically, it means “grand-father” but that’s not what Mark is using this word for) and “mama” (for both me and… the camera. Yep.) He kind of says “miam miam” when he is hungry but this is not consistent.
He enjoys playing with zippers, he tries to put clothes on and knows our routine very well. A bit too well, actually. If you do something once you will have to do it every single time. For instance, the first time I gave him peanut butter, I had him lick the spoon. Guess what? It’s tantrum time if he doesn’t lick the spoon every single time now.
He likes to read books, i.e. pointing at animals or objects and waiting for me to name them. I’m really good at animals and their babies—quiz me anytime! I’m now working on my buses and trucks vocabulary.
When we go out, he points at everything. “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is a plane.” “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is a bird.” “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is a truck.” “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is… I have no clue, actually, no idea what you saw.”
It’s both cute and extremely annoying after a while. It reminds me of my Chinese vocabulary drills back in junior high.
Dogs. Mark loves dogs. Guess what? I don’t. I mean, I have nothing against dogs but I’m not much of a pet person. Well, I spend my days saying “hi!” to dogs in the street and talking to their proud owners while Mark pet the furry thing. If I have to politely ask “So, what race is it?” one more time this month I think I am going to scream. And don’t even get me started on people who claim that being the “mother” of a dog is harder than having kids. Ah. Sure, Mark doesn’t stop to smell shit in the street but I can’t really put him on a leash outside the restaurant while I’m enjoying lunch, can I? (Seriously, can I? I wish some days…)
Other than that, Mark seems to be fine. At his last doctor visit, he was about 85-centimetre tall and just over 12 kilos (I guess this is why my back is killing me). He had his last vaccination shot as a baby and he is healthy.
We will see what summer brings!