Addict

We keep our Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies in the freezer.  It makes them even more delicious.  Alex discovered these little treasures this year and my Thin Mint supplied dwindled faster than normal.  But then I remembered those crafty little Keebler elves have a Thin Mint replica cookie.  It's no Thin Mint, but it will scratch that itch.  So, I bought a package and into the freezer it went.

About 50% of mornings, Alex requests a cookie.  And here is my thinking...they are tiny.  He is only allowed one.  He still eats a normal healthy breakfast.  That one little treat makes him very happy.  And...it is so freaking cute when he pulls two cookies out and asks if I want one.  Travis, on the other hand, does not think this routine is cute.  Or harmless.  He apparently thinks it is decidedly not ok for the boy to have "that much" sugar first thing in the morning.  We haven't really discussed and agreed upon what should happen so the difference in opinions has just kinda been ignore.  But clearly Alex is hip to what's going on because he very rarely asks Travis for a cookie on the mornings Trav gets up with him.

Last night, Alex was crying and yelling in the middle of the night and I went down to check on him.  He was still mostly asleep and was pretty obviously having a bad dream.  So I quietly asked him what was wrong.  "Daddy took my cookie!!!"  The kid was having a nightmare about his dad stealing cookies from him.  The only way I could get him to stop crying was to tell him that he could have a cookie when it was time to wake up.

Now, some might say this is proof for Travis's side of the argument.  That clearly if the child is dreaming about cookies, he is too obsessed with cookies and should not be eating cookies first thing in the morning.  I, however, am choosing to believe Alex is reacting to Travis being stingy with the cookies.  Holding cookies hostage is totally the things nightmares are made of.

I bought these pajamas for Alex a couple weeks ago.  Every time he wears them, he runs around the house yelling, Rock 'N' Roll Baby!  Except he's 2 so it comes out like Wok 'N' Whoa Baby!

This kid cracks me up.

Behold, the power of KitKat

There are many times Alex proves he is my kid.  His love of pillows and blankets, his dislike of wearing shoes, his extreme dislike of getting out of his pajamas and into appropriate day time clothes.  All things I take credit for.

The not wanting to get out of his pajamas is the only one that is getting on my nerves.  Just about every morning, when I bring his clothes for the day out of his room, he dives under his blanket on the couch and starts whining Nooooooooooooo!  No clothes!  And just about every morning, I beg, plead, sternly tell him I am not asking him I am telling him, and usually eventually end up holding him down to change him.  Yay!

But this morning, I just didn't have the time.  Enter:  bribery.  Travis introduced Alex to KitKats.  And holy man does this kid love himself some KitKats.  When he wants one, you don't hear, Mommy, may I please have a KitKat?  You hear, Mamamaaaaa, I neeeeeeeeed a Kat.  Not sure quite yet how I feel in general about this intense love of KitKats, but hot damn I loved it this morning.  I brought his clothes out and the usual routine started.  Without any of the fight, I asked him if he wanted a KitKat.  All fit throwing ceased.  He laid down, let me change his diaper, helped me put his pants on, and didn't kick his feet once while I was putting on his socks and shoes.

Judge me if you like, but I walked into my office at 7:59 this morning.

New workout

Like I said before, I am slowly getting back into working out regularly.  I'm pretty sure my leg is healed enough for it, but for the rest of my body and my mental state, I have to do something.  The only thing that really has me concerned is that it still feels like there is a pointy rock lodged in my right butt cheek.  But it's not there all the time, so I figure we're good.

So I am once again trying to figure out when to work out.  The boy goes to bed around 8 or 8:30, so I could work out after I put him down.  But...he is hungry, like really hungry, at about 6.  We get home around 5:15.  45 minutes with a 2 year old trying to help every single step of the way, is not even close to enough time to make dinner usually.  Some nights I can do it, but most nights, I end up heating up some leftovers for Alex, playing with him until he goes to bed and then making dinner for Travis and me.  And by the time all that happens and we eat, I am way past any sort of mindset that would encourage me to workout.

Last night I tried working out while Alex ate.  Which was totally fine..until he was done eating.  At which point he immediately came into the living room to watch.  And the dog came in with him.  And then Travis came in trying to get Alex and the dog out of my way.  What I wouldn't give for a bigger house!  With a rec/workout room!  Or more than 1009 sq ft!

Needless to say, between the boy asking me to hold him while I did lunges or bounce sitting on me while I try to do crunches, the dog alternating between trying to jump up on Alex and trying to hump on Alex, and Travis trying desperately to control this circus...not a good workout. 

Alternative picnic

I made mac 'n' cheese last night.  But the yummy homemade kind that my mommy makes.  I added broccoli to try to combat the Velveeta.  When I make this particular recipe I always make a little bit more noodles than will fit in the dish I bake it in.  I looooove the cheese sauce and noodles before they are baked.  It's a little pot of cheesy gooey heaven right there on the stove top.

This little pot of heaven also brings out a trait I am not exactly proud of...I am really really bad at sharing food.  Well, I am really bad at sharing my food.  I am perfectly adept at sharing other people's food, but keep your grubby fork off my plate.  So, when I make mac 'n' cheese we have a problem.  Travis really likes the pre-baked stuff too.  And he wants to eat some too.  He wants to eat MY gooey cheesy heaven.  I really do try my best to not be a snot about it, but every time I find myself quietly eating the gooey mac in hopes he won't notice it is there.  Isn't he lucky to have such a wonderful wife?  And yes, I realize I could just not bake the dish since we like the gooey stuff so much.  But we really like the baked stuff too.  The gooey stuff is just a little treat.

Aaaaanyway, last night Alex saw me eating the gooey stuff.  And he wanted in on the goods. Macaroni is by far Alex's food of choice.  Actually any pasta, not just macaroni.  So, I picked him and we took turns scooping up bites.  But then I remembered he is really heavy, so I told him we were going to sit on the floor and have a kitchen floor mac 'n' cheese picnic.  He looked at me and asked, "It's gonna be fun Mama?"  Ummmm...clearly you do not grasp what is happening.  We are going to sit on the floor with a big ol' pot of gooey mac 'n' cheese...no bowls...no napkins.  Just you, me and this wonderful food of the gods.  Yeah...I am pretty sure it's gonna be fun.

*Cough*

Our of nowhere, Alex has a cough.  It's raspy and persistent and he plays it up sometimes to the point of gagging himself.  The gagging only happens if I acknowledge the coughing.  Then it becomes a whole body experience. Speaking of that...coughing, sneezing, jumping, etc. have all become whole body experiences since I had a kid, if you get what I mean.

Anywho, the boy has a cough.  And last night I was transported back to childhood with one single cough through the monitor.  All I could think about was how I would try my hardest to stifle my coughing by any means necessary in hopes that my dad wouldn't hear me.  Because if he did...?  Codine cough syrup was on its way.  AKA, nasty bitter yellow-ish foul-ness.  Man that stuff was naaaaasty.  So I would bury my face in my pillow and try to swallow a million times to quiet the endless tickle in my throat.  But it was no use.  I would cough and then hear his bedroom door open and know my fate was sealed.

So this morning, with the cough still present, I questioned my actions.  As I left him at daycare, I had to ask myself if I am one of those asshat parents that have no regard for spreading illness at daycare.  On the one hand I don't think that I am, but on the other this kid sounds like a hobo hooked on Marlboro Reds.  But that is the only thing wrong.  He has no fever.  He has no snot freeway running down his face.  Should I be keeping him home with what is simply a cough due to cold?  I'm a big germ spreading jerk, aren't I?

Or not

I have made my feelings about Halloween very clear before so I won't beat that zombie horse.  Although, I will beat that thing if it tries to scare me.  Due to my dislike of the holiday, I haven't been a very good parent in the costume department for Alex.  But here's the thing, he is 2.  He gets costumes for dress-up and stuff, but there is not a candy corn's chance in hell this kid is going trick-or-treating.  I can't even get him to say hello to his grandparents most times without him burying his face in my shoulder.  No way he is going to go up to some stranger's door and ask for candy.

Any way, I failed last year and he went trick-or-treating with daycare in his regular clothes.  So this year, Travis intervened and bought him a Superman costume yesterday.  Cape and all.  Travis was super pumped about this purchase.  And Alex was all excited when Travis told him he had a costume for him.  So much so, he did a little excited dance/question session for me while Trav went out to the car to get it.  "Daddy get costume?  Costume for me?  Where Daddy go?"  And that excitement immediately turned to fear when Travis showed him and he refused to try it on.  Like a lot of, Nooooooooo....I no wanna try it.

I am guessing he will come around since that was also his reaction when I tried to get him to try on a winter coat in Target.  But man oh man did that little boy crush his daddy last night.

Attention span

The television is my saving grace in the morning.  It is almost always just me, Alex and the dog in the morning and I seem to be the only one interested in getting the day started on time.  So as previously mentioned, Alex gets to snuggle up on the couch and watch some tv while I scramble to get ready.  Some mornings he will sit for a whole episode of whatever is on, some mornings not so much.  Today was one of the not so much mornings.

I left him in the living room all snuggly, watching Chugginton.  The whole seven minutes I was in the bathroom it seemed as though nothing was amiss in the living room.  It seemed as though my little angel was quietly watching talking trains zoom all over the place.  Things are never what they seem.  I walk into the living room to him saying, "I put it on my bewwy Mama."  Without glancing up from the stack of laundry I am sorting through I ask, "You put what on your belly?"  "The cream.  Cream make it feel better."  I look up to see him standing next to the coffee table with his shirt pulled up to his chin and a giant swirl of A&D covering his stomach, radiating out from its belly button starting point.

So, now we don't have to worry about diaper rash on his stomach.  Good good.

Yawn

Alex woke up four times last night.  The first time I am pretty sure he had a nightmare since he was all sorts of upset.  The second and third time he woke me up by yelling that he had a booger and needed a tissue.  But refused to keep said tissue in bed with him either time.  And the fourth time I have no clue what the issue was.  He was crying a frightened type cry.  I went in and he was all curled up, said something incoherent, and immediately fell back asleep when I covered him up.  So happy to serve you, Sire.

I haven't been able to stay asleep lately and having the beast child screaming in the monitor sure as shit didn't help last night.  And then to top it off, by the time I got back to bed after the first round of wake-ups, the dog and Travis had completely taken over my side, his side, all sides of the futon.  Why were we sleeping on the futon you ask?  Because my asshole dog decided that my side of the bed was an awesome spot to empty her very full bladder at some point yesterday.

I was so mad at the dog, at the fact that Alex wouldn't stay asleep, at the fact that I can't seem to stay asleep, I gave up and just went to lay down on the couch....and promptly knocked over a glass of water that was left out  on the coffee table right next to three piles of clean laundry.  I'm just gonna go ahead and turn in my letter of resignation.

Not Sleepy

Alex's new way to get me to come get him in the morning...Mama, I all done sleepin'!  Usually in a sing-song voice, sometimes in a crabby groggy voice.  Either way it is ten zillion times better than the Maaaaamaaaaa that he used to employ.

Saturday, the "I all done sleepin'" wasn't quite as cute since he was repeating it over and over and over shortly after I laid him down for his nap.  We had read a couple books and when I went to put him in his crib, he asked if he could take a book with him to bed since he was certain he wasn't sleepy.  So Alex, his three blankets of choice, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See all snuggled in.

He laid in there and "read" his book to himself a couple times and then started singing loudly that he was all done sleeping.  I wholeheartedly disagreed and refused to go back in his room.  After I didn't come in to get him, he started calling out "Ooooh Toooooodles!"  Toodles would be the little Mouskatool holder thingymabobber from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  Any time Mickey and the gang have a problem, they all call out "Oh Toodles!" and this little guy comes flyin' in with 4 different Mouskatools from which to choose.  And one of those tools will help solve the problem.  Apparently upon the realization that his mom wasn't going to be of any assistance, Alex quickly moved on to other resources.

After Toodles didn't show up, he started loudly singing that he was awake.  I finally just gave up and went in to get him.  And when I opened the door he was sitting there with a huge smile, crossed legged in the middle of his crib, with his socks on his hands.

And then, about an hour later, the kid that wasn't sleepy at all and was awake and didn't want to lay down because he was in no way, shape or form tired..?  Yeah, that kid?  He fell asleep in under three minutes when we got in the car to go to Target.  Of course he did.

Loss of security

When we were deciding how to go about the gaga removal process, Kari reminded me she had her son wrap up his gaga's as a present for a new baby.  We just happen to have an adorable new baby in our group so I ran the idea past Alex.  He responded with a flat out No.  And he looked at me like, Lady...you and that new baby keep your grubby mitts off my gaga.  So we moved on to the cutting the gaga idea.

In the car a day or two ago, Alex looks at me with a very worried expression and says, "No blankie for baby Mama?"  It took me a substantial amount of time and questioning to realize what he was actually asking.  He was making sure I wasn't going to make him give his blankets to the new baby.

And there's another one for his future therapist's couch.

I give up

So I think I really am losing it....

Last night I prepped all the stuff I needed to throw into the crockpot this morning to ensure I have delicious beef stroganoff when I get home.  I cut the meat, onions and mushrooms, set out the beef broth and cream of mushroom soup.  Only thing I had to do this morning was throw all that into the crockpot, add a little white wine, give it a stir and set on low.  And I did just that.  And then I double checked the recipe I was using to make sure I hadn't missed any spices.  And that is when I realized cream of mushroom soup is no where to be found in this particular recipe.  No where on the 8.5"x11" paper I had hanging right in front of my face above the stovetop do the words Cream of Mushroom Soup appear.  The only mention of mushroom anything is the amount of mushrooms to be sliced.  Which, as previously stated, I had already sliced.

I am guessing the addition of the soup is not going to do anything other than make it a bit saucy-er and delicious-er...But seriously?  I am the type of person that has to read a recipe a zillion times while making even the easiest thing.  So every time in those zillion times, I somehow tricked myself into thinking there was an extra ingredient?

Losing. It.

Memory Skillz

I made myself a little list of the things I needed to buy at Target over my lunch break.  I put that little list on a little sticky and stuck it right in front of my keyboard so I would be sure to see it and take it with me.  I went to Target.  Got out of my car and realized apparently in front of my keyboard wasn't an obvious enough placement of the sticky and I had left it in that exact spot on my desk.  Perhaps next time I will sticky it to my eyeballs.  Might make getting to the store a bit of an issue, but who doesn't like a challenge?!

I was immediately beyond irritated.  I have the memory span of a gnat and it drives me crazy that I can't remember anything...especially a list that was made to specifically remind me of the things I need.  My memory capacity has dwindled to the point that I have to have a list of meals I have planned for the week on the refrigerator.  Because the ingredients in said refrigerator are not enough clues for the meals I have already planned on making.

I am proud to announce, I remembered everything on my list.  Well, everything except one item.  Dish sponges can suck it.  

Sure. Yeah. Ok.

Alex has started doing a new thing that in confusing the hell out of me.  It started when something exciting would happen, he would yell "3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!!!"  But now, he will not only yell that when he is excited, but he will also calmly get my attention and just say, "Mama...3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8."  My only response is to nod my head with a "Sure, whatever you say honey!" expression on my face...because I have no fricking idea what he is talking about or how this even became an expression for him.

The fun part about this is that if you say it to him really quickly, he screeches with laughter and runs away.  Or if he is in the car, he screeches and kicks his legs while flailing his arms.  I do not know what is so amusing about those 6 numbers, but I'm just rollin' with it.

However, when I say it in my head, I feel like he is doing a countdown before a song & dance that is going to involve a lot of jazz hands...he gets that from his father.

So Freaking Proud

We were in Platteville watching two of the nephews play youth football yesterday.  I will tell you this, 8th graders have gotten HUGE.  There is no way the boys were that ginormous when I was in 8th grade.  I know this because I wouldn't have felt like a giant at 5'4" if they were.

Anywho, the third Platteville nephew does not play football yet, so he and Alex were running around playing.  At one point they had this plastic stick with a helicopter blade on the top that they had swiped from my brother-in-law's high school physics classroom.  They were playing with it in the shade of the equipment shed next to the field.  Not shockingly, on the helicopter stick's third flight, it ended up on the roof of the shed.  And the boys both just looked at me like, Now what?  And I answered with, Well, that's a bummer!  Alex tried his hardest to reach the roof.  His effort was complete with a strained face and Eeeeeeeeee!  But as soon as he realized he couldn't reach, he look at me and matter-of-fact-ly said, "We need a ladder Mama."

I have no idea if that level of problem solving is normal for his age.  But I will tell you, I am not going to try to find out.  I am just going to swim around in the immense beaming proud-ness I've got goin' on.  Travis on the other hand has given all credit to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

Gaga to gab gab

We have been on a roll lately.  A roll of great kid.  Believe me, I knocked on every wooden thing I could find when I said this, but it has been a really long time since Alex has had a bad day.  There have been some fits here and there, but aside from the 20 minutes leading up to nap time on Saturday, I haven't had any moments where I find myself questioning why anyone on the face of the planet would want offspring.  That's called progress people.

The gaga removal has gone way better than anticipated.  He stills asks about once a day, but there is no whining screaming fit when I remind him they are broken.  And now that he doesn't have it in his mouth, he is talking nonstop.  It is a good thing he is funny or I think I would be bouncing off of padded walls.  He does not stop talking.  I wonder where he gets it?

The thing I like the most about all this nonstop talking is that I finally get to know what he is thinking about.  Obviously there have always been times I could easily tell what was going on in that little head, but there were also times that would stop me in my tracks and make me so curious about the train of thought that lead him to whatever it was he was doing.  But now that he can express himself better and I don't have to translate his words out of gaga-ese, when I am curious I just ask.  And he can tell me.  By far my favorite answer when I ask why he is doing something, "Beeecaaaaause."  Goes around comes around.

On our way

We have entered the third full day of no gaga.  I am happy to report he only asked for it twice before bed last night and once this morning.  I am also only a teensy bit ashamed to admit, I hate it.  I hate not getting that mischievous from behind the nuk smile when he knows he is being silly.  I miss the game of stealing it from him and cramming the whole thing in my mouth to "hide" it from him and how much it would make him laugh.  And I hate that sadness in his face when I tell him all the gaga's are broken.  It's quick to fade, but it's still there.  And it is heartbreaking proof that I am actively making him sad.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...It's for his own good.  He needs give this up as a habit.  His teeth could get all DURRR if I let him have it forever.  Whatever.  He is my baby and I don't like making him sad.  I know this is just one of a zillion times I am going to make this kid sad and I am sure it doesn't get any easier.  Blah blah blah.  I just wanna keep all the cute things and only let him grow up when it doesn't require intervention from me...or require me to face a new change.  Too much to ask?

She doesn't need help

My leg is pretty darn close to being back to normal, so I need to get back into the work-out swing of things.  Like I said before, the number on the scale hasn't changed, but I can tell I'm getting....squishier.  I don't like squishy.

I have been slowly getting back into running and am about a mile short of my normal route.  But every time, right at the beginning of that last mile, both hamstring connector points tighten up and things don't feel good.  So then I walk home.  Luckily the way my usual route goes, I am only about 2 blocks from home if I don't continue on in a round about way to get that last mile in.  So it's a quick walk of limpy leg shame.

Now that Mother Nature is back to showing us how much she hates us by making it dark ridiculously early in the evening, running is quickly becoming a non-option for exercise.  So I have ventured back into the dark cold scary world of Jillian Michaels.  And once again, Level 1 is pretty much a total bitch to get through.

Since Alex's bed time is now 8 o'clock, he is awake when I do whatever exercise is happening that evening.  After asking a zillion questions, he now understands that when I harness up the dog and grab my headphones, I am going running for exercise.  Last night confused him all over again.  I turned on Jillian and started jump jacking my way to the 7th circle of hell when he strolled into the living room.  "What doing Mama?"  When I replied that I was exercising, he looked at me like I was nuts and asked if I was taking Aiden with me.  And then he sat and watched me work out.  Alternating between watching the video and watching me, all while continually asking "What doing?"

Trav came in and got Alex in his pajamas but immediately released him back into the wild.  The very last thing you do in Level 1 is 1 full horrible excruciating minute of bicycle crunches.  I thought they were bad before.  But last night Alex decided to help me.  His version of help was sitting/bouncing on my stomach for the full minute..laughing like a dinosaur pajama clad maniac the entire time.

Punkins

We went to a pumpkin patch on Saturday...

Too big.

Just right.

Pulling wagons is thirsty business.

Gaga-less

For quite some time now I have been telling myself Alex will eventually give up his nuk on his own.  I will pause for the collective laughter to die down.

...

I finally faced reality and agreed with Travis that we had to motivate the nuk removal process.  But I didn't want it to be something we took away from him.  I thought it would be an easier transition if Alex was part of the decision to get rid of them.  So we took the advice of cutting the sucky part so it wasn't sucky anymore.  Travis apparently was sick of me dragging my feet and poked holes in one on Tuesday, and then just left it on the table for Alex.  When Alex popped it in his mouth he immediately got a funny look on his face and told me he needed water on his nuk.  So I rinsed it off for him and he put it back in his mouth for a split second and then took it out for inspection.  Travis asked if it was broken and when Alex confirmed it was, the suggestion of throwing it away was presented and quickly accepted.  And that conclusion lasted for a couple of hours until Alex found a different one.

Fast forward to yesterday.  While Travis and Alex were playing outside, I did it.  I cut all of the nuks.  And then I put them on the kitchen counter and waited.  Not gonna lie, I had a little panic attack and had to talk myself through it.  And when I was done, I almost cried.

When Alex asked for his "gaga" I showed him where they were.  One by one he tried each one and threw each one in the garbage once they were determined broken.  And then he asked me for another one.  I let him look through the cabinet they are normally in.  Luckily I was looking with him, because I found two more I didn't know were in there and I was able to stash them away without him noticing.  So as far as he knows, our house contains no gaga's.

So far, it hasn't been too bad.  Each time he asks for one, I remind him the gaga's are all broken.  He asks me to find another one and I tell him we don't have anymore.  And then he tells me Daddy ate it.  I am ok with that.