Every. Time

How is it possible that every stinkin' time Alex gets dressed, he puts his shirt on backwards?  Isn't there some sort of law of probability or odds or whatever that says at least once in a while he would end up with it on the right way?

We have the same exact conversation every time:

Me:  Your shirt's on backwards.
Him:  What?  No it's not.
Me:  Yes it is.  Look for the tag.
Him(looking inside the front collar of his shirt):  Oooooh!  Whoops!  That's silly!

Every.  Time.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Babies that decide to be awake from 3-5am should have to live in a mink den or with some other crepuscular animal that is awake at that horrid time.

Caught him!

Update

Livin' the dream...a year and a half later:

New Words

By the way, if Sam didn't learn the phrase "Fucking FUCK!" this morning on the ride from Alex's school to daycare, he's never gonna pick it up.

We got Sam's Christmas present a little early from daycare...

Startin' this week off RIGHT!

We went to a friend's house to watch the Packer game yesterday and while we were gone, the lovely Miss Aiden helped herself to a big ol' Tupperware of holiday treats.  She gorged on about 15 chocolate peanut clusters and at least 5 peanut butter, cereal, and peanut thingys.  And the poor thing didn't have anything to wash her indulgence down, because we forgot to put her dishes back on the floor from the counter where we have to put them so the sweet little curious baby can't get to them.  All things considered, I "slept" on high alert all night, making sure to let her out any time she made a move in the general direction of the door.  She only took a couple trips outside and seemed right as rain this morning.

Over the weekend, Alex helped me make butterhorns for the teachers at daycare and all the first grade teachers.  I told him I was making them for the daycare teachers and he said, "Oh Mom!  Can you make enough to share with all the first grade teachers?  There are only 6!"  Well aren't you the happiest little shariest elf.  Sure.  Sounds good.  So, I decided to make a double batch.  And then I screwed up the dough for the first batch.  And I didn't have enough ingredients for 3 batches, so I had to go back to the store.  And then I realized, after baking them, that I forgot to add the sugar in the filling for the entire first batch.  Travis tasted one and said, "It's really fine...just give these to the first grade teachers...they've never had them before so they won't know they're wrong."  Good call.  And a little extra powdered sugar on top just sweeten them up a bit.

This morning, I was going through Alex's backpack and found a note saying he is supposed to bring in a board game today.  And he wanted to bring the butterhorns.  So I told him if he could help me leave a little earlier than normal, I would drive him to school and walk him in to help him carry things.  While I'm carrying Sam.  And it's raining.  Good good.  So we got to school, gathered our things, including a blanket around Sam because he refuses to put on a coat and one of Sam's burp cloths that he will go nowhere without, and we headed into school.  We made the cookie drop and left Alex to have hopefully a wonderful day.

A quick trip back through the parking lot in the rain, and Sam and I were once again engaged in the wrestling match known as putting a 19 month old child into a car seat.  That is when I noticed we dropped the beloved burp cloth somewhere.  Cut your losses kid; that one's a goner.  And that is also when I noticed the distinct smell of peanut butter coming from the truck.  The dog was innocently sitting in the driver's seat, so I buckled Sam and made my way around the car.  And when I opened my door, I saw the source of the peanut butter smell.  It was coming from the mound of barf on my center console/gear shift/cup holders.  The very same cup holder that had my coffee.  And the very same gear shift that I had to push back to get the truck into drive and therefore smoosh the peanutty barf all down into places I cannot reach.  And then I had to drive to daycare to drop off Sam and more butterhorns and then to the office.  All the while not being able to drink my coffee on account of it being covered in dog barf.

Happy fucking Monday.

Dear Santa...

This is the first time Alex has written a letter to Santa.  And it's a pretty darn good one if you ask me:

Allow me to translate this mess of handwriting:

"Santa can I plees have at lese 2 presents or 3.  if you forget to bring a present it is owoky.  these are the 5 presents.  3 Diary of a wimpy 1 vedeoe tv 1 remote bowt.  Love Alex."

And now allow me to translate that mess of spelling:

"Santa, Can I please have at least 2 presents, or 3.  If you forget to bring a present, it is ok.  These are the 5 presents.  3 Diary of a Wimpy Kid Books, 1 video TV, 1 remote boat.  Love Alex."

He then went on to tell me he thinks we should give Santa a present because Santa brings everyone presents, but never gets any.  I asked what he thought we should give good ol' Kris Kringle.  "I want to replace the batteries in my remote control bumper cars and give him those so he can play with the elves when they are all done making toys."

He slays me this one.

Shut it Doc

Oh!  And while I was at the doc, I had him take a look-see at my back.  After I dropped Sam off at day care on Friday, my lower right back felt a little weird.  And then it felt a LOT horrible.  Walking was difficult on Saturday and bending down was not an option.  The doctor asked where it hurt and if it spread anywhere other than that spot and then decided I pulled a muscle.  And when I said ok, but I didn't have a specific "ouch!  I just pulled a muscle!" moment, he said, "Yeah...well...welcome to middle age."  This bitch.  He's lucky I found his dry sense of humor funny before that moment or I'm pretty sure the back/throat/ear pain wouldn't have been too overbearing for me to drop that old man.

No Thank You.

So yeah, guess what?  When I woke up with half a sore throat and a shooting pain my ear, I most definitely didn't think it was strep.  Turns out my degree in not doctoring isn't so good for diagnosis.  Strep it is.  I don't think I ever had strep or if I did, I blocked it from my memory, because this shit HURTS.  And now I'm sitting here recounting all the times Alex stole a drink from my cup and Sam crammed his nuk in my mouth over the past day or so.  I might be being a big ol' wimp here, but I do not know what I am going to do with either of these boys if they get this.  Are you allowed to sedate them until it's over?  Am I allowed to sedate myself until it's over?  'Cause that sounds amazing.

Am I a terrible mother for eating one of the freakishly large king size Tootsie Rolls I bought for Alex's St. Nick stocking but forgot to put in there?  No.  Now, if I go ahead and decide not to tell him about the other one that came in the pack...?  That might be condemnable.

You Want Some Cookies?

You guys.  You.  Guys.  Daycare gave us the pictures they did for Christmas.  Too much.

More Synonyms

Alex went to play with one of the neighbor kids after school yesterday.  There is a farm feild at the end of our street, but between the dead end and the feild there is a strip of trees.  The kids call this "the forest," but it's really just a small barrier line of trees separating the farmer's land and the neighborhood.  There is also a walking/biking path running along the length of the tree line that ends at the park.  Tons of neighbors use this path every day to get exercise, take their dogs for walks, or simply get to the park.  Most times, each neighbor will smile at the boys climbing around in "the forest" and say hello.

Anywho, Alex came home after playing and I asked him if they had fun.

"Yep!  We played in the forest.  But.  Mom.  We saw a stranger.  But don't worry, we hided from them because we didn't know if they were a regular stranger or a child bed."
"A what?"
"A child bed."
"I'm sorry honey, I don't know what that is."
"You know, like if they would just take you."
"Ooooh!  You mean a kidnapper?"
"Yes, that.  We didn't know if he was a kidnapper, so we hided."

What does the fox say?

We got our Christmas tree this past weekend.  This is the first year we are trying having a real tree.  And since our ceilings are much higher and our living room much bigger than our last house, we had to get more lights and ornaments for the new bigger better fresher tree.  This meant a trip to Menards.
Now.  Menards trips with the boys are either fun or horrendous.  Usually they are horrendous.  Most times there are multiple trips to the bathroom, at least one rolling on the floor fit, and a few, "well, I'm leaving.  You can come with me or you can live at Menards now" conversations.

Saturday's trip was a fun one.  Both boys were in great moods and we only had one diaper change.  We milled about the entire store, but luckily found this hat within the first couple minutes of being there:

The best part about this hat is obviously how adorable my two children look while wearing it.  But.  The incredibly close second best part about this hat is how a 1&1/2 year old says the word "fox."  Turns out he hasn't quite mastered the "x" sound yet.  So all throughout Menards, Sam was loudly telling us that this hat was indeed a "fuck."

Don't mind us Juliuseseseseses...we'll just be over here classin' up the flooring section of Menards.

Goldilocks

Travis brewed beer on Friday at his friend's house.  And since they drink as much beer as they brew it seems, he spent the night there.  Alex loves the nights Travis has sleep overs because he can then con me into letting him sleep in bed with me.

I tried reasoning with him that he would be more comfortable in his own bed.  "But then I won't be able to snuggle you and I will be lonely."  And that the monitor would wake him up if Sammy woke up.  "I'll get up with him so you don't have to Mom."  And finally I tried explaining that he moves too much when he sleeps and he inevitably ends up hitting me multiple times.  "Don't worry, Mom.  If I move around too much and smack you, you can just go sleep in my bed."  Check and mate.

And yes, I ended up going to his room around 1am.  Don't you judge me.

Gobble Gobble!

This turkey has seen some shit...

The little paper attached to the turkey is where Alex wrote what he's thankful for...
"I'm thankful for Jesus."
Now, this is a very nice thing to write, but it caught me by surprise as we are not a religious family, and have rarely attended any services.  My curiosity got the best of me, so I asked him where he learned about Jesus.

"The hotel that Dad took me to."
"What?  What hotel?"
"You know, the hotel that Dad and I went to and we learned about Jesus and where he came from."
"Ummmm, no, I do not know about that hotel...Oh.  Are you thinking of the church Daddy took you to?"
"OHHHHH!  Yes, that's what I meant.  The church."
"Ok.  Good good.  And if you could not tell people that Daddy took you to a hotel to learn about God, that would be good."

He's gonna get people thinking very differently about his father with talk like that.

"Say what now?"

The boys like to take a bath in the morning while I get ready.  It works out well...they get to play in the water, and I get to brush my hair without holding a baby.

Alex was exhausted this morning, so I let him sleep in a bit.  That left little Samalamadingdong in the tub by himself.  This kid.  So. Much. Splashing.  And, every slap of the water is accompanied by him yelling " AH AH AH AH AH AH AAAAAAAAAAAA" and laughing hysterically.  Eventually, I get tired of trying to find non-saturated towels to put down in front of the tub in an effort to soak up some water so the floor doesn't rot through and we end up with two showers downstairs, and I tell him to stop splashing so much.  Today I happened to capture that moment.

Somebody figured out he likes pudding...

Discovery

"Whooooooooooooaaaaa...that is so cool.  Mama!  Look at what my helicopter blades did to this banana!"

Living with boys is a constant scientific adventure.

Progress

A little girl in Alex's class scratched his face because she wanted to use the slide but he was on it, and she got him a good one.  According to him, he was just taking his turn and she was "havin' a really hard day."  While I'm slightly suspicious he wasn't encouraging any sort of bad behavior out of her, I chose to believe him and asked what he did when she did that.

"I walked away and told the recess supervisor."

You guys.  YOU GUYS!  He did it!  He chose to walk away instead of retaliate.  I am beaming with pride...and fighting that little voice that is saying it's slightly ridiculous that I am so proud for something most kids attained a grasp on long ago, but that little voice can shut the hell up.  My little man is growing and making better choices.  At least that time.

He's Learning This One

After hearing me apologize to a customer that I didn't have the information he is waiting for:

"Mama!  You just did empathy!"
"I did?!  Tell me how did that."
"You put yourself in someone else's shoes...well, I mean, you didn't take off your shoes and put theirs on, but you thought about how someone else would feel in the situation and then you said you were sorry!"

Now we know he understands it...let's just see if he can use it!  One step at a time.

One Pair to Rule Them All

Shoes are an issue for my boys.  They both have very wide, very tall feet.  The wide isn't horrendous to deal with, but the tall?  Oh my goodness.  It makes 94% of all styles completely out of the question.  We have talked at length about Alex being limited to Skechers.  Unfortunately for Sam, his feet are even more block like.  They are so flippin' tall!  So far, we have found only one pair of shoes that we can get his feet into...and they ain't cute.

I mean, they aren't terrible.  But they are awfully...medicinal looking.  Right?  I like how they gave the inside a little flare, but do nothing to make the outside looking any bit fashionable.  

Oh well, hopefully once he finally starts walking his little feet will do some sort of shape shifting from actually being used.  Until then, the Walmart special it is!

Visual Aide

I finally caught the Quasimodo'ing in action.

I love love LOVE the last little scoot at the end.  There are so many reasons I would like him to start walking more than a couple steps here and there, but man I'm gonna miss that little scoot.

He is close, but still perfecting his pouting face.  This kind of thing truly is an ongoing project.

Humor Appreciation

Alex and I were watching an episode of Mythbusters and they were testing the plausibility of the different ways Indy uses his trusty whip in the Indiana Jones movies.  After hearing the word "whip" nothing shy of 10984358493 times, I looked at Alex and said, "Man they sure did a lot with their whip whip, but they really didn't do much with their nae nae."  He looked at me confused for a moment, and then I watched as the realization of what I said spread over his face.  And, with what I can only describe as a congratulatory smile, he replied, "That was pretty funny, Mom.  That was a good one."

Blech.

Halloween.  Yuck.  The ONLY thing I like about this ridiculous "holiday" is the roasted pumpkin seeds.  Well, those and the candy.  But I mean, duh.  I don't feel that counts as something you get to say is something you like about Halloween.  Liking the bite size candy is a given.  The rest of it though?  No thank you.

The least offensive part is carving pumpkins.  I don't particularly like it, but I do enjoy seeing Alex's designs.  But then there's the coming up with a costume.  I hate coming up with a costume.  And getting all the pieces of the costume.  And making sure you aren't going to freeze to death.  And either being something completely obvious or having to explain yourself for the entirety of the time you are in said torturous costume.  I despise the entire process.  So when Alex stopped mid-bath with a bolt of shock that he hadn't thought to ask sooner and asked me what I was going to be, I swallowed my groan, put on a smile, and said, "I was thinking about going as a Mom."  Not surprisingly, that didn't fly.  "You can't do that!  You're already a mom!!"  Yeah?  Well, then my costume should be spot on.

And of all that is before you have endure the entire Halloween "season" being constantly on high alert for assholes that think it's funny to scare you.  I don't like being scared.  It isn't fun nor is it funny to me.  And I think it's a big ol' pile of stinky BS that someone gets a free pass on chasing me down a driveway with a chainsaw because it's October 31st.

Anyway, I asked Alex what he wanted to be this year, and without hesitation he once again said he wanted to be Handy Manny.  It's an easy costume and we have all the pieces.  I reminded him he doesn't have to be the same thing every year (because apparently I am too stupid to just take the easy route), but he said Handy Manny was the one.  Until Travis came home with a Batman costume complete with cape.

I will tell you, I put one enthusiastic Batman on the bus this morning.

It's a shame this kid doesn't have an expressive face.

First Pumpkin of the Year

Per the artist; it is a dragon.  The left most carving is its head and neck, the middle is its body (duh), and the right most carving is its tail.  In case you were wondering, this design was drawn free hand.  This was not a stencil.  Hard to believe, I know.

I will say this; he was eager to create the design, and delighted about how it turned out.  It reminded me a lot of his performance at soccer each week.  His enthusiasm and happiness are tremendous.  His skill?  Noooooot so much.  And I am pretty darn proud of him for that.

Disowned.

Similar features, parallel mannerisms, and identical sense of humor.  What is this list you ask?  I will tell you.  These are all things Alex and I share that are now irrelevant.  I refuse to believe I bore a child that doesn't like broccoli and cheddar stuffed chicken breasts.  And I doubled down on that refusal when he turned up his nose at the cheese sauce I made to go with it.  I repeat, he wouldn't even taste a CHEESE SAUCE.  He is no child of mine.

A Very Giffy Post

I swear I am going to lose my mind.  Alex's current mode of operation is to listen to what I'm saying enough to hear when I am done talking, but that's it.  He doesn't actually listen to the words that I'm saying.



It is craziness.  I say something, he acknowledges, and then he either does nothing to show he processed the words I said, or he immediately starts telling me a completely unrelated fact or story.

This morning, I asked him to grab a tissue for me because his little brother is a never ending snot factory.  He snagged one out of the box and said, "Catch!"  Knowing the aerodynamics of a tissue, I quickly requested he didn't throw it but instead hand it to me.  The whole time I was talking, he was looking right at me and he even said, "Ok."  But then he balled it up and threw it at me.



And this is on the heels of last night's episode when I instructed him to go up to my room and get the garbage bag that he put on my dresser for a reason known only to him.  "Ok Mom!"  He was in my room for .7 seconds and I hear him yell down, "I can't find it!  Where is it?!  OOoooooooohhhh!  Here it is!  Right on your dresser!  Ha!"

Love it

Alex calls undercover police vehicles "sneak up cars" and I never ever ever ever want him to stop that.

On the way to Target for the zillionth time this week already:
"Mom!  Let's count all the cop cars we see!  But we can't count the sneak up cars because we won't know they are the police.  I think the sneak up cars are the best ones for catching speeders because the speeder doesn't know there is a police officer inside because he's in his sneak up car."

During a different car ride, he asked me if Travis could quit his job and do my job instead so that I could become a police officer.  I asked why he wants me to be a police officer.  "Because then you could have a patrol car and those are really cool and safe."  I am not the least bit shocked he doesn't want me to have a sneak up car.  That boy always wants to know when I'm coming so he can stop/hide/sprint away from whatever naughty thing he is doing.

Great. Awesome. Super excited.

Guess what we're doing in our house again!  If you guessed "cry it out," you win the prize!  The prize is Sam sleeping at your house until he figures out how to stay asleep for an entire night.  Congratulations!!

New Schedule

I asked and recevied permission from my boss to work from home for the last bit of the day.  Why did I ask to do this?  Other than the obvious reason of being more comfortable at home, if I am home by 3:15, Alex can ride the bus home after school instead of going to day care.  I am very excited about this change for a couple reasons...I get to put comfy pants on a couple hours earlier every day, the dog can just go outside on her tie out instead of me walking around with a poop bag in my back pocket, and last but definitely NOT least, we will save about $400 a month.  Let's just repeat that real quick like.  $400 a month.  Don't worry, I'm sure I'll quickly find somewhere for that money to go, but I'm pretty pumped it will be going somewhere other than day care.

Alex is ecstatic.  The victory cry he let out from the backseat when I let him know this whole idea was a go, was nothing short of impressive.  His excitement was obviously a tic in the plus column for this change.  But after seeing his beaming face come through the door and then him bounding to me for a giant hug, that tic is a whole lot bigger than initially anticipated.

Regrets

Last night while Alex was climbing into the tub, I asked him if he wanted bubbles or color.  He replied he wanted both.  So, bubbles covering neon yellow water it was.  After I got that all situated, I grabbed some trucks and trailers, and tossed them into the tub where they immediately sank below the 6" layer of bubbles and out of sight.  Alex looked up at me, and with a completely deadpan face said, "I now regret my choice of bubbles."

This kid's vocabulary and delivery never cease to crack me up.

Splitting Hairs

Sitting here at my desk, I just pulled a hair out of my chin.  I couldn't tell if it was blonde or gray.  After lots of inspection, I decided it was blonde.  And then I got really sad about how much happier I felt about a CHIN HAIR because it was blonde and not gray or the black stubble-esque consistency these little suckers normally are.

I feel like the amount of time I spend with my tweezers daily has set the satisfaction bar pretty low.

"Always prepared for adventure."

Travis keeps calling Sam "MacGyver" because I won't cut his hair.  I mean, sure, it's long-ish, but it's not MacGyver mullet-y:

Travis's new favorite thing to say any time someone comments on Sam's hair is, "Just give him a gum wrapper and D battery and LOOK OUT!"

I just can't get myself to cut it!  I had this issue with Alex as well, and if we all remember, Kari "The Stealer of Youth" cut it one wintry day.  Granted Alex's stood kinda on end and didn't have any curl to it like Sam's, but whatever.  As soon as she cut it, it was no longer the soft wispy baby hair.  It instantly became coarse little boy hair.  And he was only 5&1/2 months!

You can't make me let this baby grow up.  End of story.

Where's the ball?

The expressions on this baby are just too much.  And then add in the hand motions and the body language...TOO.  MUCH.

Someday

We had some friends over to play on Friday night.  The adults sat out on the deck in the beautiful weather while the hoard of children ran in and out of the house.  All the kids were well behaved and Alex quickly fell back in line after a quick scolding to stay the hell away from my peace lily with his helicopters.

He has two remote controlled helicopters that have thin, fairly sharp blades on them.  He is usually very good about making sure everyone stays away from them while they are in flight even though I don't think the blades could actually break skin or anything...one to the eye would most likely be an issue though.  However, he thinks it's pretty neat when a helicopter accidentally flys too close to my peace lily because the blades slice through the broad leaves like a hot knife through butter.  While he was flying one on Friday, I heard it hit my plant and reminded him to be careful and get away from the lily.  I thought he listened as I didn't hear any more leaf cutting in the living room.

I thought that until I popped into the house to grab something.  That's when I saw the plant schrapnel spewed across the living room floor.  And as I was about to reprimand him, I realized he and two friends were playing the game I purchased as a present for his cousin's birthday.  I skipped the scolding about the plant and forcefully asked why he thought he could open the game for his cousin.  "I just wanted to make sure Tommy would like it!"  Uh huh.

When will I learn to CONSTANTLY provide direct eyeball supervision of this child?

Holdin' On

Since I couldn't tell if the hairs on Sam's pj's this morning were his or mine, it miiiiiiiiiiight be time to give him a haircut.  Maybe.  But...no.  I can't do it.

¡Viva la baby hippy hair!

Star Gazers

Friday night, Alex and I were at the neighbors' and right before we left to go home, we all noticed how many starts were visible.  I told Alex we could grab some blankets, lay out on the deck, and look at the stars when we got home.  He was a tad reluctant, but said he would.

We headed out and snuggled up in our respective giant blankets.  He instantly and excitedly pointed out an airplane, and then a group of stars that looked like a kite.  After about 5 minutes or so we headed inside.  Right as he was about to step inside, he stopped and said, "Mom?  I really liked that and I'm happy I tried something new.  When you first said it, I thought it was going to be boring, but that was actually really cool and fun!"

See kiddo?  I can come up with fun stuff sometimes!

Distraction

After Sam ate and made a complete mess, I was still trying to get the taco stuff ready so we could put him to bed and eat before Alex was standing in front of an open refrigerator door claiming he was on the brink of starvation.  The only available ammo in my fight to entertain Sam long enough to get the chopping done without him wedging himself between my legs and the cabinets and screaming until I pick him up?  The newspaper flyer insert thingy.  Guess who thinks it's really funny to shred those things?  Guess who didn't care that he shredded them so that she didn't have to try to cut tomatoes one handed?

(Please excuse the blurriness of this picture.  The super needy clingy weirdo dog kept knocking me over as I was squatting down to take this and I finally gave up trying and just kept this one.  Just don't zoom in on it or anything silly like that.)

Travis came in from mowing the lawn moments after Sam scooted into the living room, leaving this diaster in his wake.  Upon laying eyes on this mess, he asked if the dog was still alive as he assumed she did it and I was calling on every good memory of her in an attmept to stave off the stabby feelings.  Alas, I assured him that no, the dog didn't do this.  It was the youngest of the terrors sapping every ounce of patience and energy from my body.  Who wants tacos??!!?

D'Awwww

I don't know which my boys love more:  their dad, or mowing the lawn.  Let's just go with mowing the lawn with their dad and really up the "d'awww" factor.

Dinnertime

Sam still goes to bed really early, around 6:30 or so, and he is STARVING immediatly upon arriving home, so he eats at least an hour or two before the rest of us.  It's fine and all, but I would prefer to only have to make dinner once a night.  On the bright side, his dinners are usually a bit less prep-intensive.  I.e., last night he had a slice of roast beef, a couple pieces of string cheese, and mini bell peppers.

He has been loving bell peppers lately, especially when his Auntie Kim pan roasted them for him.  I didn't feel like firing up the frying pan, so I just gave them to him raw.  I started cutting up some veggies for our meal of tacos set to occur later, all the while talking to him so he wasn't just planted at the kitchen table eating alone.  After slicing some olives, I turned around to make sure all of his "talking" didn't mean he was feeding everything to the dog.  That's when I saw this:

Please note the floor beneath his chair.  That little shit was gnawing on the peppers until they were a mild pulp, and then spitting them out.  So he was basically chewing them up to get the juice, and then unceremoniously relieving his mouth of its contents.

And if that wasn't irritating enough, he screamed, "MORE! MORE! MOOOORRRE!" as soon as he was finished with the portion on his plate.  And like a dummy, I gave him more.  And in turn, I had a bigger pile of masitcated pepper pieces to sweep up.

Work Schmerk

In my never ending quest to be considered a professional in my feild, I just sent this as my response to a customer requesting pricing information on a very tiny piece of equipment.  Like less than $2.00 tiny.

You know you want me to work for or with you.

Twinning

It's a really good thing I haven't cut Sam's hair yet.  Otherwise I am honestly not sure I will be able to tell which baby is which when I look back at pictures.  Now I just have to count on my sucky memory to be able to keep track of which kid had long hair when he was this age.

Things Are About To Get Interesting

Last night, Travis was in the living room with Sam and all of a sudden I heard him say, "Ummm...are you seeing this?"  I peeked around the corner to see this:

Travis was as shocked as I was.  He said Sam crawled up to the walker thingy, pulled himself up, and just started walking.  This is a baby that does things on his own schedule thankyouverymuch.

This Baby

"I'll sit here and look really cute like this if you give me pretzels!"

"What the hell do you mean carbs are bad for you?  I will thank you to shut up about it."

Dodge That!

We got a new vehicle!  My Mountaineer was gettin' up there in miles and rust and in order to stop getting rust stains on every single pair of pants I own every time I leaned against the car to get Sam out of his seat, we replaced it.

After looking around, we settled on a Dodge Durango and I love it.  It is ridiculously loaded and I feel slightly shameful driving it.  Alex is completely enamored with the name Dodge.

"Look Mom!  It says Dodge on it...like dodgeball!!  Wouldn't it be cool if you could play dodgeball with the new truck, Mom?  You would totally win!  It would be so awesome!...Well except for when you might accidentally run over people because the truck is so big; that wouldn't be good."

Won't You Be My Neighbor

Don't mind me...I'm just over here making cookies to take to the neighbor's house as an apology for Alex and his friends ringing their doorbell "like at LEAST 11 times" when the little beasts were attempting to retrieve their ball from the neighbor's fenced in yard.

I would address the apology/explanationforthecookies note, but I can't because I don't know either of their names.

And that reminds me that I had to rely on Alex's class roster that lists all the kids' addresses to figure out if the nametag I saw on back to school night was in fact our next door neighbor.  Why couldn't I tell from the desk nametag?  Oh, well that would be because I have no clue what their last name is.  But guess what?!  Not only is our next door neighbor's daughter in Alex's class, I now know their last name.  Winning!

Transportation

According to Google Maps, the bus stop is 66 feet from our house.

Super convenient, right?  Even with stopping to inspect at any foliage that dared fall to the ground, we are there within a minute of leaving our living room.  The living room that houses the couch that Alex spilled his allergy medicine on this morning because he was too preoccupied with fast forwarding commercials during the Mythbusters episode he begged to watch 7 minutes of before we had to leave.  That very living room.  Aaaaaanyway...

We walked out the front door this morning and he stopped dead in front of the garage.  It was at this point he informed me he wanted to bike to the bus stop.  Yep.  He wanted to bike the 66 freaking feet across the street.  I said no because then I would have to drag his bike home.  Oh, but he'll just ride it back to the house when he sees the bus.  Ummmm, then when exactly are you planning on getting on the bus?  Whatever.  Fine.  Ride your bike.  This is not a battle I am willing to fight at 7:08AM.  "Thanks Mom!  Ummmm...where's my helmet?"  Dude.  Not my responsibility to keep track of where your helmet lands after you launch it from your head instead of hanging it on your handlebars like I have suggested every time you get off your bike.  Since it was such a short ride, I proposed he could accomplish the task without a helmet.  BLASPHEMY!  He has to wear his helmet when he rides his bike Mom.  

Finally he found the helmet, and he took off across the street.  I caught up just in time to hear him telling the other kids about his bike and about how I raised the seat up for him because it was too low before.  But the thing is, every time he tells someone I raised the seat for him, he finishes by saying, "She raised the seat so she didn't have to waste all her money buying me a new bike."  Now while it is true that he still fits on the bike and raising the seat was an appropriate course of action as opposed to buying a new bike, never ONCE have I said I would be wasting my money buying him a new bike.  So, if he could stop making me sound like a complete asshole mom, that would be great.

If you need me I will be addressing the scrapes I acquired from the pedals of his bike slamming into the back of my leg while I clumsily steered it the 66 feet back into the garage.

Missed Moment

And while you're enjoying the pictures of Alex's first day of school this year, please know I accidentally ruined all the other parents' opportunities to take pictures of their children getting on the bus because I walked Alex all the way to the steps of the bus and had my big ol' butt/back in the way of all the other children.  Including one neighbor that was putting his daughter on the bus for the first time ever even though she is in 5th grade this year.  Why is this the first time?  Oh, well that would be because he has walked her to school every single day until yesterday.  Don't worry, I'm sure it's not a specific moment of his daughter growing up that he wanted any photographic memories of.

I am clearly selfless and totally aware of my surroundings.  You're welcome neighbors.

♫Back to School, Back to School♫

I'm guessing you have been inundated with back to school pictures the last couple of days, but hey, what's one more, right?

He is officially a 1st grader:

And he's like 90 feet tall.  He had a great first day and was ecstatic that his only "homework" was to tell me one of the rules of his new classroom.  The one that stuck in his brain to tell me?  Two minute bathroom limit...unless you're pooping.

Hangin' On to Summer

As soon as we got home yesterday, Alex hopped on his bike and took off to play with the neighbors.  He brought three of them back to our yard to play, and a couple of the parents came too.  The kids romped around the backyard while the adults sipped beverages on the porch.  Only thing that went wrong was that dinner didn't happen.  The kids snacked their way through the evening, but the adults didn't eat.  That might possibly be the reason brushing my teeth this morning ended with my stomach contents vacating the premises.  Allegedly.

Anywho, Alex had requested Ramen for dinner, and he immediately brought up the Ramen-less evening when I told him it was time to go to bed.  It was way passed his bedtime and I was not about to make Ramen, so I stupidly half-jokingly told him I would make it for him in the morning.  Dumb dumb Mama.  The boys went to daycare late today because of course he remembered and held me to my word.

So, while Sam was eating grapes, yogurt, and Apple Jacks, Alex was slurping up some 19¢ chicken flavored Ramen.

Travis sat there in a fog of confusion and asked, "What is happening here?"  And with my head hung in defeat, I answered, "I made a deal with the devil."

Day Care Picture Updates

Day Care takes a fair amount of pictures of the kids and posts them for the parents.

First:

I do not understand how they get these children to do things they completely refuse to do at home.  I cannot get Sam to sit in the grass for the life of me.  He even has an adverse reaction if I'm holding him, which if he gets is way is CONSTANTLY, and I walk on grass.  While we are on pavement, he will sit on my hip with his little legs dangling idly on either side, but as soon as I walk onto grass, he pulls his legs up and clamps on to my stomach and back.  If you are holding him out in front of you, he will hang his legs down.  But if you lower him toward grass?  He raises them into a pike position as the same rate of speed with which you are lowering him.  He won't even really touch it with his hands.  And yet, here he is...sitting in the grass.  Now, I realize he is wearing pants, but that little fact has no bearing on the grass hatred when I am with him.

And second:

So far, this is no different at home.  These two love each other so much.  And Alex is a stupendous big brother.  Yesterday when Sam was throwing a fit because I dared to set him down while I browned some ground beef, I mockingly shook my fist in the air while saying, "That Sam I Am!  That Sam I Am!  I do not like that Sam I Am!"  Alex quickly quieted me and said that we should just say, "Don't be sad Sam" instead so that we don't "accidentally make him feel bad for feeling sad."

Gettin' Ready

School starts in less than a week.  "Back to School Night" is today from 3-4pm.  Not really a "night" if you ask me, but I suppose we have to keep it early since the kids are only 6.  Whatever.  We get to meet his teacher, see his room, and drop off all of his school supplies.  Last year, his teacher took a picture of each kid at Back to School Night and she used that picture multiple times throughout the year.  I have no clue if his teacher this year will do the same, but just in case, I made an appointment for Mop Top Hair Shop boy to get a haircut.

Clearly I should have trimmed his sideburns a bit earlier in the sunny summertime season, but pretty cute, huh?

Man, that smile.  And those eyes.  So much sweet and naughty captured in one little picture.  Holy buckets I love this kid.

Save Big Money

I was at Menards the other day and was delighted when I noticed they sell the super fancy shampoo and conditioner I use.  And since I didn't feel like making another stop that day, I happily bought both, tossed them in the cart with my paint brush and lawn fertilizer, and headed to the check-out.  How nice that Menards can be a one-stop-shop, right?

Yeeeeeah, nice until I used the conditioner.

I don't know if Pantene sends only a shitty version of their regular conditioner to Menards, but I will tell you:  I am not happy with my hardware store hair care purchase.  It is thick, but waxy instead of creamy.  And it smells like Lip Smackers.  Not that there's anything wrong with Lip Smackers...for a 9 year old.  But I am thirtyfreakingseven.  I do not need, nor do I want, Watermelon Kiwi Explosion scented hair.

So feeding himself is going well..

Not the Musical Type

"Mom, do not get the movie 'Ann!'"
"You mean 'Annie?'"
"No, 'Ann.'"
"Hmmmm, I've never heard of that one.  What's it about?"
"A little girl trying to find her way home."
"And did they sing a lot in it?"
"Yeah, I think so....And they did a bunch of cleaning?"
"And while they cleaned, did this sing this song, 'It's a hard knock life; for us!'"
"YES!"
"That's 'Annie.'"
"Yeeeeaaaaahhh...That movie is not for me."

Good for Gosling, Good for Gander

Sam had his 15 month check up today and his weight is kinda on it's own plateau plan.  The doctor isn't hip to that jive since it's been that way for the last 6 months or so, so she told me we have to add more calories and fat to his diet.  No joke.  She said, and I quote, "It's great that he eats broccoli, now put butter or cheese sauce on it."  She also made some other recommendations like full fat yogurt, sweet potato fries, etc.  And she reminded me to keep pushing him to eat meat.

So, during his nap today, I made some cheese sauce to go with the broccoli we have in the fridge.  And what do ya know?  I just happened to have chips and salsa to go with it!  Yay for me!  Booooo for my spare tire.

This whole adding fat and calories to Sam's diet thing is going to be a challenge to the changes I am trying to make to my own diet.

I'm Not Watching!

It's Fun Friday at daycare today.  This Fun Friday includes pajamas, blankets, popcorn, and a movie.  Now we all now Alex's opinions of movies, right?  He doesn't like movies.  He never likes movies.  He doesn't want to watch them.  Uh huh.

When Travis and I watched "The Lorax," Alex continually said he didn't want to watch it...while he was standing on the stairs peering around the banister watching the TV.  "Alex, do you want to come sit with me to watch this?"  "What?!  No!  I don't like movies and I don't want to watch this."  All with his eyes glued to the TV.

Daycare just sent me this picture of Alex "not watching the movie."

That kid over there next to the table with the blue top?  You know, the one watching the movie through the shelf in front of him?  Yep.  That's Alex.

Protection

Hair in horrible need of cutting?  Check.
Awkward smile we thought was gone?  Check.
Kick butt temporary tattoos on forearm?  Check.
Shin guards?  Ummm...Check?










This is how Alex went to day care today.  He has taken a couple spills off of various toys in the past couple of days (one motorized, one not,) and has decided he wants to wear his shin guards because he "falls down a lot."  He also wanted to wear them to bed so he could cut down on his time needed to get ready this morning.

He's goin' places this one.

I Wanna Go Back

Soooooooo, I don't wanna adult anymore.  I was being a good adult and finally cleaning out my refrigerator for the first time in a very long time.  Like possibly since we moved in.  I know I have cleaned the produce drawers before, but I'm struggling to come up with a time I actually took the shelves out and gave the ol' girl a good wipe down.

Any way, I cleaned out the random jars of old olives, salad dressings, marinades, and hot sauces, and crammed the contents of said jars into the sink disposal.  I flipped the switch and away went all the nasty expired grossness.  But then the disposal starting sounding not good and my entire counter started to tremble and the faucet was shaking like it was possessed by a poltergeist.  I turned the disposal off and stuck my hand in there expecting to find some old lime rinds that were refusing to be pulverized.  That is not what I found.

My fingers inspected the nooks and crannies and came upon the obstruction.  A couple seconds into my discovery mission, I was standing there holding a gelatinous blob of squishy flesh colored goo big enough to fill my hand.  It was honestly all I could do to not vomit on the spot.  I immediately dropped the blob of goo into the sink, grabbed a paper towel to shield my hand, picked the blob back up, and launched it into the garbage can before my eyes could land on it again.  All while my stomach lurched into my throat with each image of the blob returning to my mind.

The only thing I can think is that maybe some raw chicken scraps got in there and balled up into a cohesive glob of malleable goo instead of getting broken up by the disposal blades.  Digusting.

So yeah, I don't wanna adult anymore.  I want to go back to a time when I wasn't responsible for keeping a sink disposal gooey glob free.  And I'm quite positive I wasn't repsonsible for any bills at that time in my life either.  This needs to happen.

A Man's Man

Alex was putzing around the house when he heard the lawn mower start up.  He leapt to his feet and asked if he could go help Dad.  Well, yes, you can, but some clothing will be necessary.  He ran up to his room to grab some clothes, socks, and shoes.  A half minute later, he reappeared, still naked, at the top of the steps.  "Mom?  Can I be like a man and not wear a shirt?"

Yep.

Silently Speaking Her Mind

This summer we have been spending a lot of weekends away from home, and that means Miss Aiden has been spending a lot of weekends at the kennel.  She likes it there and is happily exhausted when she comes home, but something about her body language on the way there today made me think she's over it.

She sat like that most of the way... Wouldn't even look at me.

Sick?

Sam has a slight cold.  It's enough of a cold to give him just the right amount of fever at day care yesterday to not be able to go back today, so I am working from home with him here.  Oh goodie.  My favorite thing.

I have to admit, it's way easier when Alex is the sick one now.  He is perfectly content to lay on the couch and watch TV.  Well, I mean, he's perfectly content doing that now, so I guess it's no surprise he doesn't mind when he's sick.  Whatever.  Not shockingly, Sam isn't quite so low key.  Especially when he's not really all that sick.  Like today.  Evidence?  Boom.

PS-I think we might be making a Target run after his nap to pick up some hair cutting scissors so we can see his ears again.

I'm not leaving.  Ever.  You can't make me.

Observations

We are taking our annual family trip to Lake Redstone with Travis's brother's family.  The scenery is Wisconsin at it's finest.  Rolling hills, beautiful rock formations, farm fields flourishing with this year's crop, and just so many trees.  I mean we have our fair share of trees in Cottage Grove, but it's different.  While we were driving here, I pointed out a huge hillside completely covered with trees...

Me:  Alex!  Look at all of those trees.
Alex:  Whooooooooaaaaa...They must have the freshest air here.

Yeah, I mean, I guess it's alright.

Dentist

I hate hate hate going to the dentist.  Everything about it.  I hate have them poke that hook thing around.  I hate having someone else floss my teeth.  I hate the gritty taste of the polish/paste crap they use.  I hate the way the suction tube feels in my mouth when it's sucking all moisture from my body.  And don't even get me started on any sort of pain related to dental work.  Blech.  The last time I got a filling, I whined so much the dentist administered enough Novocaine to numb a rhinoceros.  Just the smell of a dentist office, and they ALL smell the same, makes my stomach turn.  I tell you all of this so you will possibly have a shred of understanding left after I tell you that I had yet to take Alex to the dentist.  He's six.  He has a lot of teeth.  A lot of teeth that had never seen the blinding brightness of a dentist's overhead light.  Had never seen.  I finally bucked up and got an appointment for him.

He was so excited.  When I got to daycare to pick him up, he came running to me shouting, "Is it time for my dentist appointment??!?"  Yes.  Calm yourself.  This shit is awful.

But it wasn't awful.  He was great.  Straight from the get go he told me, "I just know it's gonna be a good appointment.  I just know it's gonna go well Mom." OK buddy, I like your positive attitude.  He was very polite, and a little bit shy, but he didn't need any prompting from me to answer any questions the hygienist or dentist asked him.  He sat well and followed all instructions during the cleaning and exam.  And for an extra bonus...no cavities!

He absolutely loved it and is sad he isn't going back until January.  He is not my child.

Two favorite pictures from Gramma and Grandpa Z's yesterday:

Brewer's Trip!

A friend of Travis's had some Brewer's tickets he couldn't use, so he put them in Travis's name at will call for the game on Tuesday.  We had no clue where the seats were, so I told Travis to take Alex instead of us scrambling to get a sitter.  WRONG CHOICE.

Travis made sure he got done with work early, scooped up Alex from daycare, they stopped by my office to grab some chairs from my truck, and were on their way to Milwaukee by 2:30.  The plan was to get there early enough to do a little tailgating but still get into the stadium well before game time so Alex could run around like a lunatic for a while and they could be in their seats for the first pitch.  And it's a good thing they did that, because there were some issues getting the tickets.  But once they did, they found out where their seats were.  5th row behind home plate.  Travis sent me a picture, and after I replied that I hated him a little, he said, "Yeah...we should have gotten a sitter."  Gee, YA THINK?!

Not surprisingly, they had a great time.  Alex got to watch the sausage races from the front row.  "Number 2 won...no wait...contestant number 2 won.  There was contestant number 1, and  contestant number 2, and contestant number 3, and contestant number 4, and  contestant number 5.  Contestant number 2 won though.  He was the hot dog."  Did you happen to learn a new word buddy?

Then he got to sit in the front row with another kid that was near their seats.  And that kid had a game ball.  A game ball that he gave to Alex because he already had one at home.  And then they stayed for the whole game.  A game that started at 7pm.  Yeah...they got home right around midnight.  I was positive Travis would be carrying a comatose asleep Alex straight up to his room, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard them talking on their way in.  Alex climbed up on the couch to tell me all about it.

After he finished his rendition of the day's events, Travis told him to tell me what he had decided his favorite part of the day was.  Quick side note:  Every night at dinner, we go around the table to tell each other what our favorite part of our day was.  As I was mentally running through everything Alex had just told me trying to predict what his favorite moment was, he leaned in, laid his head on my shoulder, and said, "My favorite part was coming to your office to see you."

I only cried a little bit.

So Many Towels Needed

Stinky Snuggle Bug

Alex tiptoed to my side of the bed at 5:30 this morning, climbed in, asked what time it was, and quickly fell asleep snuggled against my side.  When I woke him up this morning, the following conversation took place:

Me:  Just what do you think you're doing coming in here at 5:30 in the morning?
Him:  I just wanted to snuggle you.
Me:  I'm just teasin' buddy.  I love it that you came to snuggle me.  Snuggling you is my favorite thing in the world.
Him:  Me too.  I just want to always snuggle you.  I wish you didn't have to leave to go to work and I didn't have to leave to go to school so we could just always snuggle.
Me:  Me too, buddy.
Him:  (from his butt) FFRRRRBBBBTT....(from his mouth)BAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Me:  You're nasty.

I Did It!

I saw this neat trick/idea on imgur where you take a regular cord, wrap it around a pencil or some other cylindrical object, and then heat it up with a blower dryer for a couple minutes.  You end up with a curly, springy, not tangly cord.  Normally, I'm all, "Yeeeeahhhh right that works" to these sorts of things, but I had a cord in mind that needed some curly, springy, no tangly in its life.

BEHOLD:

Do you know what this means?!  This means my grubby little scooter of a baby can't pull the iPod player off the counter whilst his mama is rockin' out in the kitchen.  This means musical freedom!  And?  It means I successfully completed a cool trick I saw on the interwebs.  Good stuff all around.

The Cover of Darkness

Alex is burning through shoes faster than ever lately.  It seems like every two months MAXIMUM he needs a new pair.  This time I didn't mind though.  There was a sale at the shoe store we usually go to, and they had a pair of non-light up ones in his size.  I bought them without him and had him try them on at home.  And to my elation, he said, "These are PERFECT!  They are super compfty*.  And?  They don't have lights.  Which is good because I wanna be able to play Kick the Can with the boys at the lake house and if I have lights on my shoes?  I will be an eeeeeeasy target."

*That is not a typo.  That is how he says "comfy."  Not surprisingly, I love it.**

**Speaking of things he mispronounces:  One of the BattleBots is called "Tombstone."  When I said somthing about Tombstone, Alex looked at me incredulously and said, "No Mom, it's "TUBEstone."

Still Impressionable

While in the bath after watching Dirty Jobs:

"Hey Mom!  Do you have insurance?"
"Yes.  I have insurance."
"PHEW!  Did you know if you get in an accident and you have insurance they fix your car for FREE?!?"

"I'm sorry it's come to this, cow...but we need to talk."

My Little Kobayashi

This baby.  He can eat.  Like a lot.  Last night after having some Apple Jacks, cheese, crackers, and milk, he started in on this peach.  I tried to take it from him to cut it up, but he just screamed at me and sunk his teeth in while keeping a side eye on me to ensure I didn't try to steal his precious from him.

And after a couple minutes, this was the remains:

And then?  After all of that food?  He had a full plate of spaghetti.

Well, he ate most of it.  The dog got some and he wore whatever didn't make it into one of their mouths.