Blunt

Ohheyhai!  Yeah...so...it's been a while.  ~checks calendar~  HOLY SHIT!  I have written anything down since January 24th?!?!  Sweet sassy molassy.  Well, I will use normal excuses.  Work, hockey, work, insane children, work, confused dog, work, work, work.  Did I say work?  It's been really busy. 

Anywho, I had to come back today to document the stellar parenting skills I put on display this morning.

First a little background...I'm not sure if it's due to the cold or the snow or her age, but Aiden is having a hard time remembering inside the house is decidedly not where she is to relieve herself.  She will scratch at the door, and as long as I am there to let her out within 11.2 seconds of her scratching, we're good.  Until we're not.  She'll go out there for a short time, come back in, walk two laps around the house, pantomime a scratch at the door, and then promptly shit on the floor.  And that's all if I get to the door when she scratches.  If I don't make it there in time, she just straight away pees and poops on the floor.  It's fun.

Both boys have seen and heard our frustration when stumbling upon (and in Travis's case stepping right in and tracking it through the living room) whatever mess that day has brought.  It's usually some sort of guttural groan followed with, "that DOG!"  This morning was no different.  Apparently it didn't matter to her that I hauled my cookies out of bed before 5am to let her out.  She preferred to use the living room floor just before 6:30.

But this morning, while I was cleaning it up, Sam said, "Ugggh!  That DOG!  You need to tell her, if she doesn't stop pooping and peeing where she's not supposed to, you're going to throw her in the garbage!"  Now, the sensible part of my brain knows he's a three year old and he doesn't actually mean any harm, nor does he want me to throw the dog away.  But it turns out the sensible part of my brain wasn't quite awake this morning.  The snarky part of my brain was though.  So I responded, "Welp.  We didn't throw you in the garbage when you used to poop and pee where you weren't supposed to.  We kept you around, so I'm thinkin' we'll skip the garbage can for the dog."

Morning sunshines!

Hey Elsa

Do you wanna build a snowman?  Sam did.

Faker

The dog that is totally deaf?  The one that seemingly is confused about the fact that she is supposed to poop outside?  The one that is losing weight with age and looking more frail everday?  That one?  Yeah, she's apparently still spry enough to reach up on the kitchen table, steal two tomatoes, take 2 freaking bites out of each, and leave them for me to clean up. 

I'm starting to think this aging thing she's got goin' on is all an elaborate ruse.

Alternative Heat Source

My office is downstairs in our tri-level house.  So while I have plenty of windows, I am below the frost line, and baby it's cold down here.  There is an electric baseboard heater on the wall next to my desk, but it's not super efficient and is expensive as hell, so I don't turn it on often.  Every once in a while though, I just can't take it anymore and I turn it on for a bit to take the bite out of the air.  A couple days ago, I just couldn't take it anymore.

I turned the heater on and shortly thereafter thought, "Huh...it smells kinda funny."  I figured some dust had settled on the metal fins and was being gently burned off.  About an hour later, I got up to go to the bathroom.  That's when I noticed the slight smoky haze the sun rays coming through the window were pointing out to me.

Hmmm, perhaps it's not just some dusty fins.  So, I turned it off, let it cool down, and popped the faceplate off the heater.  This is what I found:

I'll let ya look at it for a hot minute to figure out what it is.

...

Give up?  It's a freaking Nerf dart that had disinegrated/melted all over the fins.  It apparently (apparently!) got through the gap between the top of the heater and the faceplate, and just waited there patiently for me to get chilly.

After some picking and scraping, I got most of it off.  Just in time to be overcome with frozen feet.

Evolving

Alex goes through spurts where all of a sudden it feels like he ages 10 years to me.  The past week was one of those spurts.  There is just a different demeanor about him.  He's still a silly 8 year old kid, but little things are showing a grown up is in there somewhere.

A couple easy examples?

1.  He can now take medicine in pill form.  No more liquid in baby cups for him.  He'll just take his allergy medicine as a pill like a grown man thank you very much.

2.  The other night Sam was wheeling around a suitcase with his blanket as its precious cargo.  Alex saw him and said, "You havin' fun with my suitcase buddy?"  Two observations here.  First?  He didn't throw a fit about his brother touching something of his.  Second?  He said suitcase.  It is no longer a soupcase and I could've collapsed on the spot when I heard it.  I made him repeat it.  Twice.  He asked me why and I explained that he used to say incorrectly and it was the cutest thing ever.  He just sweetly smiled with compassion in his eyes and said, "Awww, sorry Mom."

There is one thing he does that I haven't corrected though.  If I do something typical of me but ends up in failure, a person would be correct in saying, "Oh, that's just classic Jackie."  Alex has learned this...almost.  The other day, I dropped something and tried to catch it like 7 times as it rocketed to the floor and of course didn't catch it and looked like a drunk ninja in my attempt.  Alex chuckled and said, "Ahhhh...classical Mama."  It's no soupcase, but I'll take it.

Bunk Mates

Bunk beds happned.  The boys LOVE it.  I mostly hate it. 

The boys are doing great at going to bed without too much screwing around, and the first night just about made my heart burst.  They were all excited and being silly, but then settled in and were quiet for about 2 minutes.  After the noise started up again, I peeked in to see what they were doing.  And that is when I saw Alex with his arm and shoulder jammed through the space under the upper bunk guard rail, reaching down to a little Sam kneeling on his bed stretching his arm up as high as he could so they could hold hands.  Everybody together now:  Awwwwwwww.

But, Alex is on the top bunk.  And it's a twin over full set up.  Which means there's no room for Mama on the top bunk.  So one night Alex and I are doing our nightly reading and snuggling and then next night BAM!  Bunkbeds!  No reading together.  No snuggling.  No solving life's problems with just the soft beam of a night light.  None of it.  I cried more than a bit that first night.

It still stings every night when I give him a hug and a kiss over the guard rail, and I can tell he misses it too which just makes it harder to buck up and move passed it.  I know we'll find a time to quietly be together, but we haven't yet and I am needing it.  On the up side, I am catching up on shows and am spending more time with my husband.  Give and take.

Wings

For ever since I can remember, my mom has called me her Angel Baby.  So you can imagine my surprise when during gift opening on Christmas morning, there was a gift labeled "To:  Angel Baby," but it was for my niece.  But, being the mature adult I am, I handed the present o my niece without...pfffft!  HA!  Let's be real.  Of course I threw an overly dramatic fit to tease my mom!

Four days later, I was opening my birthday presents and Sam was sitting on my lap.  Mom gave a sweet smile, and handed me a small box.  I opened it to find an angel ornament on which she had written "My Angel Baby."  Because of course she did, because my mother is the best mother ever to mother.  Sam saw it and wanted to hold it, so he said, "Mama?  Can I hold the....flappy lady?"

Yeah.  I might need to teach this kiddo about angels.