Good morning to you too Buster!

This morning Alex was running around naked as he is wont to do.  On one pass, I managed to get a small pinch in before he scampered away.  As he ran away, I said, "A pinch for my favorite little butt!"  He spun on his heel, came running back at me, spanked my butt and said, "A spank for my favorite big butt!"

Now, I know I set myself up for that, but damn.

Mental Prep

I broke the news to Alex that he won't be going to school until we move.  We made the decision to not start him in one school only to move him to a different school whenever we can find someone to buy our house.  I really do believe this is the right choice, but this kid has been talking about riding the bus since July, so I'm more than a little concerned he is going to lose his mind when the bus comes, picks up some kids, and he can't get on it.  So I told him yesterday that next week, the bus is going to come to day care, but it's not going to be able to pick him up yet.  That he won't be able to get on the bus until we move.  He took it well and seemed to understand what I was talking about.  My guess is this will not bet the same reaction on Tuesday.

As soon as that conversation was over, he started asking me about moving.  Why are we moving?  When are we moving?  Who lives the house we are moving to?  Are they going to stay there?  I answered his questions, and all of the follow-ups. and we went on with our evening.  A couple of hours later, he started asking me if we were bringing different things with us when we moved.  His cars?  His dune racer?  The refrigerator?

I started his bath for him after dinner and he came in the bathroom and told me he doesn't want to move anymore.  Why?  Because he won't be able to take a bath at the new house since we aren't taking the bathtub with us.  I got to make that kid's night when I promised the new house will have a bathtub.  He was slightly disappointed when I told him no, it wouldn't be a bigger one that he could swim in, but I think he's still pretty pumped that he'll be keeping the option to bathe.

Magically Scientific

So, I maybe a couple times sarcastically answered one or two of Alex's questions that I didn't know the answer to with a sing-song "Maaaagic!"  I've also employed that little gem when I can't figure out how to explain a difficult concept.  It's all fun and games until the little one catches on and uses it on you.
Me:  Alex, how did this water get all over the floor?
Alex: ~Maaaaagic?~
You guys, I am totally screwed.  He's learning too much, too fast.

Yesterday there was a moment where I totally could have used the ol' Maaaagic response, but I decided to try to be a good mom and not impede his learning.  We started moving forward after a stop light turned green and from the back seat he asked me, "Mom, why do you move backward when the car starts moving forward?"  It took me a hot minute to understand what he was asking, but once I figured it out, I then had to figure out how to explain physics to a 4 year old.

Magic?  Not this time.  This time?  SCIENCE!  Boom.

Be still!

I just wanted one, just one cute picture of him with his fuzzy hair back-lit by the afternoon sun.  I asked him to stand still for a second and say "Pickles!"  Every single time he said it, he jumped. And then laughed and laughed and laughed.

Picky.

Every night, Alex gets chocolate milk at bedtime.  But since chocolate milk is crazy expensive and high in sugar and stuff, we just put sugar free chocolate syrup in regular milk, do a little shake it up dance, and call it a day.

Last night, Alex was at the grocery store with me and spotted the gallons of chocolate milk that he knows and loves from his uncle's house.  You would have thought this kid won the lottery.  He came running to me lugging a gallon of the good stuff telling me how awesome it was that "our store has this now!"  I tried to explain that we didn't need that because we had chocolate syrup at home to make our own but the sad look of defeat in his eyes made me cave.  I only gave in to a half gallon though!  Ha!

Normally, when asked if he wants milk or water with dinner, he replies, "Juice!"  Not last night though.  I didn't even have to ask him.  I was getting plates ready and he was frantically trying to get the safety seal off the chocolate milk.  He drank a huge glass of it during dinner and then was more than ready for another upon bedtime.  He also woke up twice last night telling me he was thirsty for chocolate milk..."but the good kind; not the kind we normally have."  The second time I told him he was having water if he was so thirsty.  Yeah, that went over well.  And, shockingly, he woke up a third time because he had to pee so badly.  Weird.

I'm tired.  Who wants chocolate milk?

Time Flies

Alex:  Hey Mom?  How many minutes until we leave?
Me:  About 10 minutes.
Alex:  Oh.  That's a really long time because 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.  No, wait.  ZERO, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.  That's a really long time because of that, right Mom?

Summer Lovin'

I really am not looking forward to summer being over.  I don't mind fall weather, but it just means winter is coming.  Barf.  And, even though I haven't been in any type of school for 12 years, I still get that pit in my stomach as soon as Back To School stuff starts popping up.  I get that pit and I have the typical horrible dreams where I can't get into my locker and I don't remember where any of classes are and I haven't gone to a single class all semester and now it's time for finals and I fail at everything.  Yay for senseless anxiety!  Wheeeee!

Back to my point, I'm not ready for summer to be done.  But what I am ready for is for every single little long legged, buzzing, biting, asshole mosquito to die a slow cold death.  This morning just took the cake.  I had juuuuust finished scratching yet another bite and I saw one of those pets of Satan flying around my bathroom.  It landed on the wall and I was quick to smack it.  And in the process, I caught the edge of one of the plaster swoops on the wall with the side of my delicate little pinky finger.  And the stupid mosquito squirted blood all over the wall.

I realize complaining about an injury on your pinky is ridiculous, but you try typing with a finger injury!  Stupid bugs.

Rockin' Out

We hung out at Lake Red Stone this past weekend with some family.  It's about an hour drive or so and the radio reception gets a bit spotty.  So, Travis and I were discussing what we wanted to listen to.  We weren't really coming up with anything that grabbed us, so there were a lot of options being thrown around.  After a minute or so, Alex piped up in the backseat and said, "I want to hear Little Ghost."

Little background...we were in the car a couple weeks ago and I was listening to The White Stripes and the song "Little Ghost" came on and from the backseat I hear, "Gasp!  I love this song."  

Back to last Friday.  Alex requested this song out of the blue.  They listen to music a lot at daycare, but it's Kid Bopz or Baby Bumblebee or the Chipmunks covering The Black Eyed Peas.  So for him to pick this song, this White Stripes song, out of his musical repertoire?  Well, we were really proud of him.  I realize it's pride in an annoying hipster "my kid is soooo cool that he's too cool for mainstream music" type of way, but I do not care.  I was proud.

I listen to some crap music and I listen to some good music, I like to think I lean more toward the good music side, but that doesn't matter.  What matters is listening to something that makes you feel something.  Nothing can compare to the amazing love Ray Charles can make you feel when he croons about Georgia.  Or the relaxation Ottis Redding can immediately instill with a song about a bay.  Music can completely make a moment.  Or completely ruin a moment for that matter.  But music is a very powerful thing and I really like that Alex is aware of the music in his world.  And I like that he is figuring out what he likes.

Anywho, I was really proud and I guess I still am, but man he's testing the limits of my pride.  This is now the only song he wants to listen to.  Ever.  Always.  Don't get me wrong, it's a really good song.  But shit.  As soon as I start the car, "Mom, I wanna listen to Little Ghost please."  As soon as it's done, "again."

Parenting: Level - You Suck

Soooooo, Alex has had cradle cap for, oh I don't know, about FOUR years now.  Every bath, I would gently scratch his scalp whilst shampooing with a recommended shampoo in an attempt to loosen the gunk from his little head.  For four years, I was convinced this was some sort of super strain of cradle cap.

I saw some T-Scal shampoo at Target and asked the pharmacist about it.  After she regained her composure from being shocked into near silence that I was going to use this on a 4 year old, she recommended I ask his doctor before using it.  Then she asked if I've tried the home remedy of olive oil.  I slyly blabbered something incoherent, thanked her, and walked away wondering why in the hell I haven't tried this olive oil thing I have known about since he first acquired this lovely grossness.

Last night, I doused my kid's head in olive oil.  Wanna guess what happened?  Yep.  All of the cradle cap came off.  Shocking, right?  The remedy that 99.99999% of all people recommend and it actually works!  Weird!

I suck.

Helpy Helperton

So much for him helping us get the house ready to be sold...

Running hills is good for me.
Running hills is good for me.
Running hills is good for me.
Running hills is good for me.
Running hills is good for me.
Running hills is good for me.
Running hills is good for me.

Don't mind me...I'm just trying to convince myself that getting my training runs in over lunch which means I have to run more vertically than horizontally is a good thing and I shouldn't shy away from it next time.

A boy's boy

Last night Alex and I were checking out the status of the watermelons in our little garden and Bert walked over to see as well.  Bert and I started chatting and shortly after I realized Alex was not within eyesight and he was very quiet.  Never a good combo.

I came around the back of the house to find him standing on the back steps, grinning, and holding a big ol' rubber mallet.  I took the mallet away from while reminding him it isn't a toy and he started laughing hysterically.  Obviously something was afoot beyond his normal sneaking a tool out of the tool bucket.  So, I asked what he had been doing with said mallet.  He wouldn't spill it and his grin only widened with each incorrect guess by me.  Finally he told me.  "I was hitting dog poop with it and now you touched it. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  I tricked you Mama!"

Hitting piles of dog shit with a rubber mallet with the intent of tricking his mother into touching it.  If that isn't the most boy activity ever written down, I don't know what is.

Sunday Funday

Back before Alex was busy taking over our lives, we used to have Sunday Funday.  This can be summed up in one word:  Drunk.  Sunday Funday would start with breakfast at one of our favorite places which always included a couple bloody marys.  And that little hair of the dog would set us on our way to a Sunday filled with drinks, friends, fun, and zero productivity.

Obviously, that lack of responsibility is not really an option anymore.  Lamesauce, I know.  Sunday Funday has taken on a new meaning.  It's now defined by parks and candy that makes your mouth different colors and ice cream and Target toy aisles.

Isn't funny how you can simultaneously miss your old life so much and love your new life so much?  Kids, man.

Huh?

So, I know he has proven time and time again that he is my child, but last night he made me question that very fact.

I made some crescent roll dealy-mabobbers and I offered him one while it was still warm.  He bit off a tiny bite, agreed that it was delicious, and handed it back to me.  I tried to give it back to him and told him that he could have it if he liked it and he said, "Oh, I like it..it's yummy...but I'm full." and he made me take it.

Yeah, kiddo, you might be full, but this is a crescent roll...you gotta fight through that fullness.

Morning Logic

Alex was a still a little groggy after being awake for about 20 minutes this morning which is not normal, so I asked him if he was alright or if he was just still a little sleepy...

"No, I'm not still sleepy.  I'm just a little allergic to cats today."

Oh.  Ok.  Makes perfect sense...especially since you have had zero contact with cats in the last, oh I don't know, 192 hours.

Things that go bump in the night.

Since we're super classy, Alex's bed has consisted of a twin mattress on the floor for the past a lot of months.  I didn't want to get a regular metal frame box spring situation...mostly because I didn't want to clean under it.  But then I thought it would be cool to get one of those platformy type beds with a set of drawers under it.  Yeah, those ain't cheap.  These things combined kept my child sleeping on the floor.

I finally resigned to getting a regular frame, but then I started thinking about how high up a regular twin bed is and I didn't think that was a good idea.  So, instead of getting a box spring and a stop-you-from-falling-out-of-bed thinger, we went to Menard's and got a 3/4" thick piece of particle board and a long 2x4.  Travis cut the particle board to the size of the frame and then made support pieces out of the 2x4.  Tadaaaaaaaaa!  Platform bed.

Now here's the thing.  Alex has never fallen out of bed.  He was never a baby that climbed out of his crib.  He didn't even come close to falling out of his toddler bed.  And even though sleeping next to that child more than slightly resembles trying to share a bed with an eager Cessna propeller, I didn't think twice about him falling out.  Until midnight his first night in the new bed set up.  Whoops.

Happy Friday!

Look who's got his best dog friend in the waaaaay back with him!

Please disregard the weird smile he's got goin' on, we were out of time!

Really?

Alex is reverting back to a small toddler.  The small toddler that crams everything within reach into his mouth.  Makes no difference to him if it's an actual food item or not, in his mouth it's goin'.

The other day, we were home for about twenty minutes and I noticed him chewing on something.  I asked what he had in his mouth and he produced a Barbie shoe.  And then promptly told me he couldn't return it to daycare because it was now part of his collection.  Ok, slow down there curator weirdo.

Yesterday morning, I was getting everything ready for the day and I heard him gagging in the living room.  I ran in there and asked if he was ok.  He was a little teary eyed, but had that smile on his face that he gets when he doesn't want me to ask any questions.  So I asked questions.  What was in his mouth?  Tires from a Lego truck and trailer Trevor had built for him.  And when I told him he couldn't put stuff like that in his mouth, his grin got a little bit wider and he admitted there were two tires in there!

Do I have to go back to communicating with him via "Icky!  Yucky!  Blech!"?

I'm just gonna put this here

Just something I don't ever want to forget and I'm quite sure it will go as quickly as it has started...

Almost every time I'm trying to have a semi-serious conversation with Alex, he will keep focus for about a full minute and then he just can't take it anymore, the crazy creeps into his eyes, and he starts bawking like an insane chicken.  A loud insane chicken.

Seriously, he just looks at me and starts up with, "BAWK!  BA BA BAWK BAWK!"  And then he is reduced to a puddle of giggling little boy...with me not far behind.

Arm Yourself

Bert was all excited when he got home last night.  He found two, very on sale, small Nerf guns...one for him and one for Alex.  These little suckers shoot up to 75 feet but are easy enough to load that Alex can use them without constant assistance.

Within 5 minutes of getting them out of the package, Alex shot Travis square in the eye.  From about a 5 foot range.

Soooo, we had a little lesson in Nerf gun safety and things are going much more smoothly.

Typical morning

Alex has decided he really really likes riding in the third row seating of my truck.

Which is all fine and whatever.  It is a bit more of an effort for me, but really not something I'm going to exert effort on arguing about.  The only problem is that I cannot reach him from my seat.  The only reason this is a problem is that I have allowed myself to become his personal vending machine.  So now I have to make sure he has his snack and juice with him in the way back before we set out on any journey.

Upon smelling the tortellini I was making to take with me for my lunch today, Alex declared he wanted some of my noodles with his waffle and juice.  Of course you do.  Who doesn't eat cheese filled pasta and chocolate chip waffles with a splash of cranberry juice?

Anywho, about 7 minutes into our drive, I peered into the rear view mirror and saw that look.  That blank stare, stuffed cheeks, kinda clammy look.  And when I asked if he was alright, I got the expected answer that he was going to puke.

Now, here's the thing.  99% of the time, when he says he has to puke, he doesn't really have to puke.  In reality, he has just stuffed too much food in his mouth and can't figure out how to chew long enough to be able to swallow it.  So, being the caring, loving, nurturing mother I am, I asked if he was sure he was going to puke...and then told him he would have to wait until I could pull over.  When I got a bit down the road to where we wouldn't be flattened by semis, I pulled over and made the trek to the way back seat.

I helped him out and carried him the couple steps to the grass on the shoulder of the road.  And that little shit spit out  half chewed piece of tortellini, stood up, stretched a little, and said, "I'm ok Mom.  That's all I had to puke."

Sounds about right kid.

My son

We went to a baseball game on Thursday and a friend came with us thank goodness so I didn't have to find out if I like strangers and I could go on only liking my friends.  Alex had a bottle of Sprite and the three of us each had a beer.  Out of absolutely nowhere, my child proved his DNA when he suggested:

Hey, let's have a drinking contest!

Run!

It's Friday.  The sun is shining.  I just felt great for 4 miles.  Yeah baby!

The only down side is my little furry running partner is gettin' old.  It's looking like 3 miles is gonna be her limit.  She did really well for the first three miles, but totally crapped out the last one.  So it ended up with me basically pulling her along while trying to finish my run.  And I am an ass so I kept waffling between feeling bad for her and sad that she's getting old and totally pissed off that her old butt was dragging down a really solid run.  I'll write my pet care book right after finishing my Parenting Tips Handbook.