Aaaaand we are back to nuk-ville. I proved my push-over status. Saturday morning he was begging and begging and I gave in. Good talk.

Sneaky, sneaky.

I have known for a while that the nuk still being stuck in my kid's mouth was my issue. I thought it was because I didn't want to deal with the whining and crying I was positive I would have to endure once I took it away. I thought wrong.

When I picked Alex up this afternoon, he was nuk-less. He is nuk-less everyday when I pick him up. He usually even hands it to me before running off to play when we get there in the morning, and it gets put in a cupboard for the day. But the moment I arrive in the afternoon, he asks for it. Which is exactly what happened yet again today. So, as usual, I caved and went to the cupboard to retrieve it. But it wasn't there. He kept asking, we looked but there was no nuk to be found. So, I just said I didn't know where it was and it must be all gone. He seemed to accept that and we headed home. Throughout the evening, he asked for it, but nothing too bad along the whining front. All the way to bed time he didn't ask much, and he went to bed sans nuk.

While we were singing and rocking in his room, I realized what my real problem has been. My baby isn't a baby anymore. Only babies use nuks. Big boys don't. He looked so old. It broke my heart. I love watching him grow and learn and become this hilarious little kid...But I really loved having my snuggly little baby boy.

I have a sneaking suspicion the daycare teachers intentionally took it out of the cupboard. But I think they did it to help me. They knew as well as I did that he is ready to be without a nuk and that I just needed a helpful nudge in the right direction. They didn't fess up to it today, but I'm pretty confident I'll get it out of 'em.

Switch-A-Roo

Alex's new bedtime has its pros and cons. Pros being that we get to play more in the evenings when we get home, and that kid is FUNNY. Also, and I am pretty sure this takes precedence over the extra play time, he sleeps later in the morning. It is glorious. During the week, I set my alarm and get to get ready for the day by myself. I wake him up about 10-15 minutes before we have to leave, a little Jungle Junction while I change him, and away we go! But then the weekends. Last weekend, he slept until 7:30 on Saturday and 8:15 on Sunday. I was actually confused when I looked at the clock both days.

This morning he woke up a bit early for some reason. So we snuggled up on the couch. And I drifted off into mostly asleep but kinda awake land. I was awake enough to know those damn Little Einsteins were squawking, but asleep enough to not realize what time it was. Until 6:54. Yeah...we have to leave no later than 7:20 for me to be on time to work. And we were both in pajamas and I hadn't brushed my teeth or hair yet. Somehow me managed to make it out the door on time. But only to have the truck beep at me and remind me I didn't want to face the disgusting weather yesterday so I still really needed gas. So I was still late to work. Whatever, I am still proud of my getting us ready skills.

The bad part about this later bed time is that it is majorly screwing with my workout schedule. I used to play with Alex, put him down, start dinner, workout while dinner was cooking, eat, shower, sleep. But now he doesn't go to bed until 8 or 8:30. Which then will put us eating dinner at like 10. So, I need to figure something out. So far this week I just haven't worked out. Awesome.

Life Lessons

I need to work on my thinking on my feet skills. More often than not, it astounds me when a parent can come up with an explanation for things that are hard to explain to a kid. I failed miserably yesterday.

When we were walking to the garage yesterday morning, I found Aiden's morning kill laying next to the sidewalk. Poor little bunny, just out for a morning hop, but hopped into the wrong yard. If I knew how to speak Rabbit, I would hang a warning sign for them. But I don't, so the rabbits enter our yard unaware they could be inches from their demise. It's not every day the ol' girl gets lucky, but when she has an extra spring in her step, the bunnies suffer.

Any way, I was fortunate enough that Alex didn't spot the bunny on the way to the car, but I knew coming home was going to be a different story. So I was really hoping Travis would make it home before us and deal with the scene of the murder. Alas, dear Budweiser once again would not let that happen, so I had to remove the bunny with Alex by my side firing away an endless string of questions. "Shahbel? Shahbel? Bunny? Bunny? What bunny?" I took the last question to mean, Why are you scooping this bunny into a shovel and why isn't the bunny hopping away like normal? I may not speak Rabbit, but I am getting damn good at Toddlerese.

I tried to gently answer, but all that came out was, "The bunny...well bud, the bunny...is dead." Smooth. He shockingly didn't understand and continued to ask about the bunny while following me, the dead bunny shovel wielding idiot, to the back of the garage to toss it over the fence. And I still couldn't come up with a better answer.

Shortly after, I was relaying this cute little anecdote to my neighbor and before I got to the part where I failed miserably to answer my son appropriately she said, "Ooooh...bunny is sleeping." Probably a more toddler-friendly answer. You would think I could have come up with that.

Well kiddo, sometimes reality sucks. And since your mom is not smart, you are going to learn that abruptly and at an early age.

In battle against lilacs, it is not wise to forget your allergy medicine. You win this time lilacs.

One Two Cha Cha Cha!

For the most part Travis is easy to live with. Which is nice since I plan on doing just that for a scary long time. But when you live with someone, that someone always has little habits you could do without. Which is a really nice way of saying you want to kick that person in the face every time they do any one of those little habits that irritate the everlivingshit out of you. I have been able to not dwell on the cabinet doors left open, or the chairs not being pushed in, or his dresser drawers never quite getting closed all the way. But for the love of everything holy, if he doesn't start putting things away when he is done with them, I may have to kill him. There is no other way.

I cannot get over the fact that he never puts things away. It makes me nuts. I cannot deal with clutter in the house. I don't like a lot of knick-knacks, candles, coffee table books, whatever. Give me a clean dresser top and I am a happy lady. Because of this, I try not to collect knick-knacky stuff and I put things away when I am done with them. The other benefit of putting things away? You can find them when you need them next time! Revolutionary! If Travis can't find something, he very rarely asks me if I have seen it. Because he knows if he asks me, my response 9 times out of 10 is going to be, "Did you put it away last time you used it?" I wonder how many times a day he is thankful he lives day in and day out with such a caring, nurturing, wonderful, and all around pleasant person like me.

Not putting away clean, folded laundry is a big one that falls under this category. I used to put his laundry away for him. But then I noticed when he was putting the laundry away, only his laundry got to its proper destination, while mine stayed in its temporary basket home. Yeah...that's not gonna fly. So I asked why he was so mean to my clothes and denied them their comfortable dresser home. "I don't know where they go." What's that now? How do you think I figured out where your clothes go? It's not like you labeled the damn drawers for me. I opened them, used my fancy matching skills and put tshirts with tshirts and socks with socks. Rocket. Science.

So I stopped putting his clothes away. And thus began The Great Piling of Clothes on Chairs in our room. And I stubbornly stuck to my guns. No way was I putting one thread of his clothing in its proper place. Which is really stupid because he could care less and it just pushes me further and further into a padded room with each load of laundry. But I silently let the dance continue.

Until last night. I couldn't take it anymore. I put all of the clothes away, even his. And when he came to bed I happily accepted the "Wow! The room looks great! And a lot bigger!" I happily accepted it because it is nice to receive praise...and because he doesn't know I threw out his shirts that I hate. Mess with the anti-clutter bull, you get the horns.

Ahhh..spring?

It's spring time. Kinda. Which means it's allergy time. Yee. Haw. Every year, as the time passes throughout the non-allergy time of the year, I forget how miserable allergies are. Once again, lilacs have taken pleasure in reminding me. My eyes hate them. My throat hates them. My sneezer hates them.

And to pour salt on this giant itchy wound, I really like lilacs. They are pretty looking and pretty smelling. It's like Mother Nature is playing a cruel trick. She's all, "Here's a beautiful flower that smells so nice you will want to snuggle with it...HA! Gotcha! They make you feel like you have 27 tiny leprechauns with tickling feathers living in your nose and throat while they simultaneously throw sand in your eyes! Muuuuaahahahhaha!"

Mother Nature can be kind of a bitch sometimes.

Back in the saddle...

...and not happy about it. I am happy to be home, happy to have Alex back, happy to snuggle my dog. Not happy about having to work. Barf. I so enjoyed just being able to play all day. Weird right? California was great. Once again, I overate, overdrank, overstayeduplate, overeverything. And am now toting around 5 extra pounds to show for it. Sooo worth it. I have some pictures, but I will sum them up for you...Beautiful! Gorgeous! Wish you were!

Alex had a great time camping with Grandpa and Grandma Julius. Although both of his grandmas are getting more than irritated that he only calls them Grandpa. Apparently in his mind, he has 4 grandpas. We'll get that sorted at a later date.

Oooo! Shiny!

This began as a video to document Alex talking to our neighborhood through the window. But it only shows a tiny bit of that. It does however showcase his incredible attention span.

He is his father's child.

He's advanced

I don't want to be one of those parents that think everything their child does is miraculous. The ones that are positive their child is a genius because the kid is simply achieving some milestones. It seems like usually those kids are pretty much in line with every other kid their age. I also have a limited knowledge of what Alex should be doing when. Put these two things together and now I feel like I don't give this kid enough credit.

We were in the car yesterday and he starts yelling "Honk! Honk!" while pulling on an imaginary air horn string. I, completely unimpressed tell him yes, that is what a big rig says. And then I take a quick second and look out the window. Low and behold what do I see? A whole parking lot of big rigs! So he doesn't have just random thoughts flying around his brain and spewing out of his mouth...at least this time.

But then we got home and brought out his water table to play since it was finally warm outside. And this is how he chose to use it:

Yeah...he's totally advanced.

Up up and away!

Travis surprised me...biiiiiiig time. He secretly planned a trip to California for our anniversary. We leave on Friday morning. He planned more than he has planned since I don't know when. He talked to my boss, daycare, his parents, my parents and my sister and got everything taken care of. All I have to do is pack. I am excited.

We went last year at this time too. And our return marked both Kari and Mariah's breaking point of observing my general demeanor without intervention. So they each gently told me I needed to face the fact that something was not right in my brains and I should talk to someone. So I did. And I am better. And the anticipation of this trip is further proof that I am better.

Last year, I couldn't wait to go. I couldn't wait for a break, for time away from my life. And once I left, I didn't want to come back. I remember exactly how horrible it felt when I got out of the car at my parents' house and saw Alex's sweet face looking through the window at us, and I wasn't excited. I wasn't even close to excited. I couldn't even tell if I had missed him. It was an incredibly scary and dark moment for me.

But! Fast forward a year and a bunch of the right medicine and here we are. And I am excited to go. I can't wait to go. But I really don't want to leave my son. I really don't want to be away from him for 5 days. It makes my chest tight with anxiety when I think about it. I know he is going to be fine and is going to have fun with his grandparents, but I am gonna miss the little snot.

Ya wanna know what's really hot and ego boosting? A zit coming out of a forehead wrinkle.

More?

Mo'? Mo'? Peas? Mo'? Add accompanying sign language and you have Alex's mode of asking for more of anything. I have to admit, it is pretty darn cute and it usually ends with me giving him whatever it is he wants more of. Another cookie? Sure! Another rendition of a chicken on crack? You got it!

Last time it was bath night, I couldn't help but laugh at him. I set him in the tub and as usual he immediately peed. Which I realize every kid does and there is nothing I can do to stop it, but really? Do I really have to ignore that and wash you in pee water? Sweet. Anywho, normally he doesn't notice he is peeing. But this time he did. So he reached down, grabbed his penis and watched himself pee. As soon as he was done...mo'? mo'?

Sorry dude. I can't help you out on that one.

He wins.

Alex was on a roll yesterday. Or more specifically a roller coaster. An emotional roller coaster. One minute he was giggling, the next screaming. Having fun outside turned into me carrying a screeching toddler football style into the house after he thought it was hilarious to run into the street. Playing with the shop vac was great fun until we didn't want to vacuum with his supervision anymore. Result: stomping, red-faced, screaming Alex. According to the book of Alex, going to bed was the worst thing ever last night. Which was expressed with more red-faced screaming and forced me to make up a song about how much fun it is to have a 2 year old. Until I let him put his squirmy little fingers in my ears. Apparently that is humor with no bounds. It was just extreme ups and downs all evening.

After I put him down, I exhaustedly sat down next to Travis. With both of us crumpled into pathetic piles of beaten down parents, we sat in silence for a bit. And then I declared that there is no way we ever did anything to deserve this. Without skipping a beat, Travis responded, "Oh I for sure did. We are screwed."

To top the evening off, I managed to screw up dinner...which I made in a crock pot. Impressive, no? Seriously, how is that even possible? I was all proud of myself for getting the damn crock pot. Now that I am a crock pot cooking moron, crock pots are stupid.

Once again...I rule at being a mom.

In my continuing quest to earn the title of Most Responsible and Fantastic Mother on the Planet, I have achieved the following:

-My child now says No Way instead of No Thank You. Took me a hot minute to realize that is from me telling him No Way José when he is doing something he isn't supposed to be doing.

-Saturday morning Alex wanted to play in the sink. So while I was making breakfast for us, I pulled a chair up against the counter for him. I didn't think twice about the fact that I pulled the chair up to the right side of the sink instead of the left side like normal. So I also didn't realize this put him within reach of the counter the dirty dishes rest on before being washed. That was made clear when I turned around to see my 22 month old with both hands holding my wine glass from the night before up to his mouth with his head thrown back trying to get that last drop of wine that never comes out. And to top that amount of classy, I also didn't think twice about the fact that being in front of that sink allowed access to the knife block, until he was grabbing for a knife.

-Sunday Alex got pink eye. In both eyes. After being in an urgent care exam room for over an hour, we left with a prescription for eye drops. He couldn't go to daycare until he had been using the drops for 24 hours, so I stayed home with him yesterday. While I was toasting a bagel for him, I turned around to see him standing in front of the garbage can, taking a bite out of a moldy slice of bread he had retrieved from said can. Does penicillin cure pink eye?