The Great Apple Juice Shortage of 2010

Today, I realized that we are officially out of apple juice.  This would not normally be an issue, but my son prefers it and, since he's sick, he's even more particular than usual about getting his way.  When I announced that we were out of apple juice, HelpfulHannah stepped in to help me identify the apple juice that, very obviously, had to be in the fridge.  I must be getting ill myself, because I spent 5 minutes indulging this:

Hannah: Is this apple juice?
Awesomenes: No, that's Worcestershire sauce.
Hannah: Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's soy sauce.
Hannah: Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's ketchup.
Hannah: Oh yeah.  Ketchup is for french fries.  Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's mustard.  Do you know what mustard is for?
Hannah: Mustard is for hot dogs. (I raised her right, thank you very much.)  Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's milk
Hannah: Oh yeah.  Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's Caesar dressing.
Hannah: Ew.

Etcetera.  Forever.

Actually for 5 minutes, but it felt like forever.

The Spirit of Giving

If my ultimate goal during the Christmas season is to make sure that my children understand that the holiday is all about giving, then I have succeeded.  Yesterday, my kids gave to me all day long:

8:45 a.m.: My daughter gave me an ulcer.

We had just finished unwrapping the last of our gifts when MaryChristmas suddenly announced that she needed to go downstairs now and take a nap on the couch.  She looked very pale and drained, so we took her downstairs and checked her temperature: 100.7.  Nice.  Twenty minutes later we checked her again and her temp had shot up by over a degree.

This is not only no way for a child to spend Christmas, but it's also reminiscent of last year, when she got so sick we eventually had to admit her to the hospital for two days.  We got some fever reducer in her before she fell asleep.  Two hours later, she was back up and playing with her brother.

Whew!

11:30 a.m.: My son gave me a heart attack.

The first sign of trouble was the universal kid-in-distress signal: he was being very quiet.  All of a sudden, Mr. Awesomeness yells, "What is he choking on?!"  We run over to him and he starts fighting us.  The kid can't breathe, but he doesn't want to give up whatever is in his mouth.  At this point, we did what any caring parent would, we forcefully pinned his ass down.  This is when we fish about a lb. of blue foamy stuff out of his mouth.  Well, where the hell did that come from?  We don't buy our kids foam anything, specifically because they try to eat everything.

Then I notice this little blue bouncy ball I got for him as a stocking stuffer.  The ball that I thought was made of either plastic or a hard rubber.  Apparently not, as it had a huge bite taken out of it. Ugh.

8:05 p.m.: My son gave me a shower.

The night was winding down and we thought it was ending well.  MaryChristmas was maintaining a good normal temperature and ChokeyCharlie hadn't tried to eat any of his other presents.  Less than an hour to go until bedtime.  We've almost made it....

ChokeyCharlie started to cry.  This was not unexpected because he missed his nap time this afternoon.

Awesomeness: What's the matter, buddy, are you sleepy?  You should have taken a na.....
ChokeyCharlie: BBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH!

I'm guessing that, by the time he was done, I had about half a gallon mixture of apple juice, water, milk, raisins, crackers, chips, turkey, bread and chocolate all down the front of me.

How did he know I've had that on my list for years and years?

Moooooore Braaaaaaains

SilentBob, I've been hoping that you would start communicating with us for a long time now.  You held out for so long that your pediatrician now swears you're autistic.  We both know that's not true, so we sit and patiently wait for a time when you can communicate your needs.  And now you do...

SilentBob: Grink!!
Awesomeness: Oh! You need a drink, buddy?  Good job!  Let me get you a drink.

15 minutes later, I get a cup to the face.

SilentBob: Grink!!
Awesomeness: You need more drink?  Let me get you something...

5 minutes later, I realize I haven't heard you for a while.  When I track you down, you're pouring your drink all over the floor.  We take the drink away, because you were obviously not that thirsty.

10 minutes later:

SilentBob: Grink!!
Awesomeness: No way, buddy.  You poured your last drink on the floor.  You can have another drink in a little bit.
SilentBob: Grink!!
*ignored*
SilentBob: GRINK!!  GRINK!!  GRINK!!  GRINK!!  GRINK!!

Well now I've gotten my wish.  This is a conversation we have about 39 times every day.  It's nice talking to you, but you need to come up with some new words.

Quickly.

The New Best Friend

For the past 5 years, we've deep fried our Thanksgiving turkey.  Oh, and then again for Christmas.  We will pretty much look for any excuse under the sun to fry a turkey, now that I come to think of it.

Anyway, so all this turkey frying has finally worn out our fryer pot to the extent that we felt it necessary to buy a new one.  Thanksgiving Day being a day for turkey, football and laziness, we knew we didn't want to prep it tomorrow.  Mr. A started assembling it last night and finished it off with a good washing.

The pot is pretty deep, so he just washed it in the bathtub (after a whole lot of girlish sounding whining about how cold it is outside......it was a "bone-chilling" 57 degrees outside) and left it in there for reasons only a man can sort out.

After a little while, I realized I hadn't seen MollyMischiefMachine, so I started calling for her.

Awesomeness:  Where were you?

Molly: I was in the bathroom.

Awesomeness: What were you doing in the bathroom for so long?

Molly: I play with Pot.

Awesomeness: Pot?  Who's Pot?

Molly: Pot is in the bathtub.  He's my new best friend.  We play catch with a ball.

Awesomeness: ..........

She was, indeed, tossing a ball at the pot.  The pot was indeed "catching" it.  It's come to my attention that we should probably make more of an effort to help her find some real friends.  People ones.

In other news, I caught MollyMischiefMaker playing with the house phone just after I started typing this post.  I explained to her that she shouldn't play with the phone because sometimes people call because they need to talk to her daddy or me and that they won't be able to get through if she's playing with the phone. (Okay, so no one actually calls, but it was the principle of the matter.)  Her response:

 But Mama, I need call Pongo.

Pongo.  As in, 101 Dalmations Pongo.  She is obsessed with that dog.  She was very disappointed about not being able to talk to her imaginary dog friend on the phone, so I gave her my old cell phone and told her it was her special "Pongo phone".  Then, in predictable little girl fashion, she proceeded to call all of her friends:

Hi Pongo!  It's me, it's Molly.  You're my best friend.  What's that Pongo?  Yes.  Uh, huh.  You have Patches?  Patches is a puppy.  Okay Pongo, bye-bye!

Hello Santa!  You got reindeers?  Yes?  And a sleigh?  I just talking to Pongo.  He's white with black spots.  Pongo is my best friend.

Hi Grammy and Papa!  I just talking to Pongo and Santa.  I miss you too Grammy.  Uh huh.  I haveta go now. Bye-bye!

Boy, whatta chatterbox.

No, Really, You Shouldn't Have

I'm not sure who's idea it was to desecrate a classic, but this turd will soon be out in theaters:



CarrieCartoonFan was riveted when the trailer came on yesterday. When it was over, I asked her:

Awesomeness: Do you want to watch that bear?
CarrieCartoonFan: *stares at the screen for about 5 seconds, then looks up -- frowning* No, Mama...

You can't get a more honest and useful critique than that, folks. This movie looks so bad that a 4-year old won't watch it.

It's Cute...It's Cute...It's Cute...Now Shaddup

Welcome to my Friday hell.

It started when HelgaHurtsALot somehow found a way to scrape her knee on laminate flooring.  She is the master of unlikely injuries.  The knee started to bleed, so I patched her up with some ointment and a Band-Aid.  Little did I suspect that this would lead to 2 hours of verbal torture.  It started off cute enough, just after applying the Band-Aid...


Awesomeness: There you go, Helga.  All better!
HelgaHurtsALot: Oh, thank you Doctor Mama!
Awesomeness: You're welcome!

Oh, how cute, Doctor Mama.  She is so funny..... What's that Helga?

HelgaHurtsALot: Look, look what's on the TV Doctor Mama!  It's Olivia.  I like Olivia Doctor Mama!
Awesomeness: That's nice honey, just watch your show.

5 seconds later

HelgaHurtsALot: Oh no!  She drop her toy!  She drop it Doctor Mama!!
Awesomeness: Yup, I guess she did.  What do you think she should do about that?
HelgaHurtsALot: She should pick it off the floor Doctor Mama.

This is the point where "Doctor Mama" starts to get on my nerves.  For the next 5 minutes, she continued to commentate every move in her cartoon.  Punctuated, unfortunately, with "Doctor Mama."  Except now, she's trying to give it some pizazz and she's accentuating it "DOCter maMA," which I find infinitely nerve-grating.

After her show was over, the assault didn't end:

"DOCter maMa, can I have some juice?"


"I wanna watch another moobie DOCter maMa."


"Whatchu doing, whatchu doing DOCter maMA?"

And so on, and so on.  At one point she dug a scraper out of my utensil drawer in the kitchen and started fanning me with it:

"I'm making wind at you DOCter maMA!  You're getting very cold now DOCter maMA!"

Great, now she's combining my loathing of having cold air blow on me with an obnoxious new nickname.  Is it bedtime yet?


...


How 'bout now?

Hold Still

Tonight I cut my thumb while preparing dinner.  Preparing dinner is something I don't do often, because cutting my thumb -- or any other finger -- is not a rare occurrence with me.  I quickly washed it off and got a Band-Aid.  Mr. Awesomeness decided this was the point where he needed to step in and take over the cooking duties (seriously, works like a charm every time ladies) and I left the kitchen to nurse my life-threatening wound.

Never fear, though, DoctorDottie came to my rescue!

Dottie: Hold still, Mama.  Hold still.
Awesomeness: What do you need?
Dottie: You need to hold still.  You hurt yourself.  You need to stop moving.
Awesomeness: (actually holding still -- and I thought Mr. A was a sucker) Okay, I'm holding still.  Now what?
Dottie: *poke*

Poked me right in my damn wound.  Yeah.  Cleared it right up.  Thanks Doc.

Occupational Aptitude

On the way home today, I was starting to think that DollyDrivingDirector was showing a natural talent for driving instruction:

DDD: You need get over now daddy.

Mr. Awesomeness: What?

DDD: (silence)

Mr. Awesomeness: What did you say?

DDD: (silence)

Mr. Awesomeness: I think she was talking crap about my driving.

Awesomeness: Thank you for being Dada's driving coach.

DDD: You're welcome mama.

Mr. Awesomeness: I don't think we need to encourage that.

Later on in the commute, however, I started questioning her judgement.  There came a time when someone in a car ahead of us stopped.  I don't know why, possibly to smell the roses.  Maybe to make new friends.  There was nothing blocking his way, so it's really a mystery.  Anyway:

Brakes: SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!

DDD: That was too close Daddy!

Mr. Awesomeness: Yes, honey, that was too close.

DDD: We need to jump out of the car.

You Take Me To The Store?

Well, today's the big day.  Toy Story 3 comes out on DVD.  MarthaMovieFan is very excited.  She kept asking for it all day yesterday.  Today, her daddy is taking her to get it.  She excitedly runs up the stairs for her clothes and then oddly points out that her brother's bed is very clean.  Strange comment...

I grab her clothes out of the closet just to turn around and find her jumping up and down on the once clean bed with her dirty feet.  Well, who can blame the kid for being enthusiastic?  I gently reminded her:

Awesomeness: Martha, your brother's bed is not a trampoline.
Martha: Aw right, Mama.  (she gets down from the bed)  I get my clothes now?
Awesomeness: Yep, here they are!  Where are you going?
Martha: To the store with my daddy!
Awesomeness: That's right!  Do you know what you're going to get at the store? (Thinking that the answer should be obvious since the kid's been begging for that movie for almost 24 hours straight.)
Martha: I'm gonna get a TRAMPOLINE!

A trampoline.  The only thing cooler than Toy Story 3.

I Go "Trick-o-Tree"

Yesterday, CathyCandyGrabber went trick-or-treating for the first time.  We reminded her of what the rules were before she left:

1. Knock on the door.
2. Wait for the door to open.
3. When the door opens say, "Trick or treat!"
4. Candy.
5. Say "thank you."

When she came home with her daddy half an hour later, he tells me she made up her own rules:

1. Make daddy knock on the door.
2. Turn to run away before the door even opens.
3. Smile and giggle.
4. Candy anyway.
5. Run away!

Oh well, she had fun anyway.  Maybe she'll get it next year.

CountCrybaby helped me pass out candy while his sister and dad were gone.  At first, he was happy to help and loved the sight of all the little kids coming up to the door.

Yeah, he really is the count.

Then he realized that he should be getting candy too.

Incidentally, that's his little belly hanging out underneath his vest.  That shirt/vest thing was supposed to be a 2T, which theoretically means that it's a full size too big for him.  It fit more like a 18 mo.  Very disappointing.

Anyway, then every time the little kids would go away, he'd say, "Byyyyyyyye!" and then I'd see this:

Until the next group of kids showed up.

Overall, it was a fun night, but I'm glad it's only once a year!

Persistence...It Does Not Pay

Sassypants was living up to her screen name all over the place today.  When I got home, I discovered that she asked for noodles for dinner and didn't eat them.  That's a deal breaker in this house and results in requests for additional food to go ignored.

She doesn't care, she makes them anyway.

Insistently.

SassyPants: Can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
Awesomeness: No.  You didn't eat your dinner.  I'm not giving you more food to waste.
SassyPants: But I neeeeeeed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!
Awesomeness: No.  I already told you no.  Don't ask again.
SassyPants: But mooooooom, I neeeeeeed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Awesomeness: If you neeeeeeeeded a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, you should have aaaaaaaaaasked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  You didn't.  You asked for noodles, you didn't eat the noodles, you go hungry.
SassyPants: But...
Awesomeness: No.  You're not getting your way.  Stop asking.  Give it up.
SassyPants: I WILL NEVER GIVE UP!!!

She meant it too.  As I'm typing this post, she is still insisting that I need to make her a sandwich.  Sassypants, meet Ignorasaurus Rex.

Faux-hawk Hero

HairyHarry needed a haircut.  He was starting to look really shaggy and my horrible haircutting atrocities that I thought I'd so cleverly hidden were starting to shine through.  It was time to take action.

This is a picture from a couple of days ago:

Look at his sweet little curls.  I hate to cut them off, but I know I would go ballistic the first time someone commented on my "sweet little girl" so I had to do it.

I decided to get it over with this morning after their bath, but before I lost my nerve.  I hate cutting my kids' hair.  It's really evident afterward that I shouldn't handle anything more dangerous than safety scissors.  Despite better judgement, I start hacking away...

...and he starts squirming and screaming bloody murder.  Twenty minutes later, and ten minutes of Mr. A holding him down, he looks like someone attacked him with a weed whacker.  I can't send him to school like that.  All the other 2-year-olds will make fun of him.

Later, I get the idea that I could easily even things out with Mr. A's beard trimmer.  (Every mom who is reading this is facepalming right here.)  I can give you the soundtrack of how that went:

bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Shit.

bzzzzzzzzzzz

Shit!

bzzzzzzzzzzz

Oh, shit.

And so on, for about 15 minutes.

It was clear that there was no easy way to get through this one, so I just said, "fuck it."

bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I'm going to have to keep this kid in hair gel to make it look like this was what I was going for the whole time. The fact that it wasn't will just be our secret.

Green Eggs And Ham For Breakfast

Breakfast is really granola this morning, but we're watching the '70s cartoon adaptation of Green Eggs and Ham at the same time.

HenryHollers-a-lot likes to "sing" along with the songs, which I find cute.  Apparently ShushyShirley does not appreciate his enthusiasm.

Henry: AHHHH AH BAH BAH BAH!
Shirley: STOP YELLING!!
Henry: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO YES!
Shirley: YOU NO YELL BUDDY!  I CAN'T HEAR MY MOOBIE!!
Henry: AH BAH BAH BAH BAH!
Shirley: You are a bad BABY!

She explodes out of her chair and grabs her brother, dragging him away from his breakfast.

Awesomeness: What are you doing?  Let your brother eat his food.
Shirley: He keep yelling at the moobie.  He needs to go to time out.

Generally Speaking

Today, in the kids' speech therapy, LiteralLulu was playing a game that challenged her to think about the general categories of objects on a flashcard.  She was doing great until she got a card where the items seemed unrelated to her at first.

Speech Therapist: Okay, Lulu, what do you see here?
LiteralLulu: I see a lettuce (actually this is peas, but she calls all green vegetables lettuce...), a (green) frog, a (green) tree, and Oscar the Grouch (also green).
Speech Therapist: Why are all of those things the same?
LiteralLulu: Nooooooo, those things are different.
Speech Therapist: They seem different, but they have something in common.  Do you know what that is?
LiteralLulu: Well.........um........
Speech Therapist: (trying to be helpful) These are all the same because these are all....
LiteralLulu: THINGS!

*facepalm*

I'll Get Right On That

This morning was not good for me.  After an entire week of having half the world in my face from sun up to sun down, my mind and body just crashed and burned.  I got the kids up, thinking I could manage if I could get them fed and then engaged in something.  No, I was done.  I needed more sleep.

That's what I thought I needed anyway, DoctorDotty had a different opinion.

DoctorDotty: What you doin' Mama?
Awesomeness: I need more rest sweetie, so I'm just going to lie here for a while.
DoctorDotty: You no go to sleep Mama!
Awesomeness: I really need sleep honey.  If you need something, can you get your dad please?
DoctorDotty: Mama, you need go poopoo.
Awesomeness: I don't honey.  I don't feel like I have to go poopoo at all.
DoctorDotty: Yes Mama.  You need go poopoo so you feel better.

What do you say to that?  I just threw a blanket over my head and went to sleep.

Good Night Moon

Last Christmas, BedtimeBetty's dad gave her the moon.  A Moon In My Room, anyway.  Even after a year, she's still excited about her moon and spends time every night clicking it to whichever phase makes her most happy.  Last night her moon -- and her heart -- broke.

BedtimeBetty: I want my moooooooon! 
Awesomeness: Aw, don't cry baby, you can see your moon tomorrow.
Mr. Awesomeness: Your moon is broken honey.  We need to fix it.
BedtimeBetty: You fix my moon please? 
Mr. Awesomeness: We can't fix it right now, we need to go to the store to fix your moon.
Awesomeness: The store is closed right now, baby girl.
Mr. Awesomeness: And it's on fire.
Awesomeness: And it's been abducted by aliens.
Mr. Awesomeness: Don't worry honey.  Tomorrow the aliens will return the store and put out the fire.  Ni' night.

We checked this morning and sure enough, the store is exactly where it should be.  It's also not on fire.

Parroting The Parody

The Cat What?

TashaTattleTale: Mama! Mama!  The kitty has a rock.
Awesomeness: Uh.  The kitty has a rock?  Is that what you said?
TashaTattleTale: Yeah! The kitty has a rock.
Awesomeness: Okaaaaay.  Thanks for letting me know.

I look at the cat, who does not appear to have anything that even remotely looks like a rock.  I have no idea what this kid is talking about.

TashaTattleTale: The kitty sit on himself.
Awesomeness: What the wha?  The kitty sat on herself?
TashaTattleTale: Yeah, he was on the stairs and he sat on himself.

Duly noted.....

A few minutes later:

TashaTattleTale: We need go wash my foot.  It's stinky.
Awesomeness: How did your foot get stinky?
TashaTattleTale: Kitty peed the floor and I step in it.
Awesomeness: .......

I had her show me where the alleged cat pee was and there was nothing.  Odd.

About a half an hour later the kids' speech therapist came over and the cat decided she was going to be friendly today.  This is when I noticed a piece of crap stuck to the cat's butt.

"The kitty sit on himself."  Yes, she did indeed shit on herself.  I'm also thinking we solved the mystery of the "rock" the kitty had.  The cat pee?  I haven't found it yet and I'm not looking for it.

The Lardass

Last night when we got home:

MollyWordMangler: Mama!  Mama!  Can I watch the lardass?
Awesomeness: Um......can you watch what, honey?
MollyWordMangler: The lardass!
Awesomeness: You want to watch the lardass?
MollyWordMangler: Yeah! Yeah!  Let's watch the lardass!!
Awesomeness: I'm not sure I know that one.  Can you tell me which one it is?
MollyWordMangler: It's the lardass.  He speak for the trees!
Awesomeness: You want to watch The Lorax?
MollyWordMangler: Yeah! The lardass!  He speak for the trees.

The Rules

We've been working with the kids a lot lately with their speech (why I haven't found time for, say, updating blogs).  They're both pretty far behind where they should be for their age groups, so we've picked up a speech therapist who gives us homework for the kids every week.

This week RachelRuleLearner is learning how to pay attention to two-part rules and instructions; this lesson includes repeating them back to us.  This is not one of Rachel's strengths.  Usually, these conversations go like this:

Awesomeness: Please pick up your shoes and put them on the stairs.  Tell mama what you're going to do.
RachelRuleLearner: I run in my shoes.  
Awesomeness: What are you doing with your shoes right now?
RachelRuleLearner: I wear my shoes to school.
Awesomeness: That's what you did today with your shoes.  Right now, you need to take your shoes off and put them on the stairs.  What do you need to do with your shoes?
RachelRuleLearner: I need to clean my shoes.  They're dirty, bleeeech!
Awesomeness: That's not what we're doing right now with your shoes.  Right now, we're taking your shoes off and putting them on the stairs.  Tell mama what you need to do with your shoes.
RachelRuleLearner: I kick a ball with my shoes!

By this time, I'm seriously frustrated.  I want to kill the shoes with fire.  I pretty much want to kill all shoes with fire at this point.

Obviously though, something that we desperately need to work on with her.  Today, the instruction had to do with her potty training.  She gets distracted when she's having too much fun with something and sometimes she doesn't quite make it to the toilet because she waits until the last minute.  She wanted to play on the computer* and that gives her the biggest challenge when it comes to the potty problem.  So we set rules:

Mr. Awesomeness: Rachel, when you're playing your games and you feel like you need to go potty, what do you do?
RachelRuleLearner: I run to the toilet right away.
Awesomeness: That's right!  What happens if you don't go to the toilet right away?
RachelRuleLearner: I run to the toilet right away.
Awesomeness: If you go peepee or poopoo on the floor, the computer is getting turned off.  Now what happens if you go peepee or poopoo on the floor?
RachelRuleLearner: Dada spank my ass.
Awesomeness:..........
Mr. Awesomeness:...........

Just when we think she doesn't pay attention...


*For any parents of younger kids: Firefox has a browser extension called Kidzui.  It's a collection of kid-friendly websites (Nick Jr., Sesame Street, Discovery Kids, etc.) that they lock into a special safe browser, so no accidentally clicking on viruses or porn sites.

Back Seat Road Rage

I'm starting to think that Mr. A needs to hold his temper a little more in traffic.  TerraTrafficTerror sits right behind him and has nothing better to do but yell from the backseat:

Hey!  Get outta the way dude!

Honka horn Dada.

WHOA!  Whatta jerk.

Catching Up

I'm just feeling all stuck up from winning the Worst Mom In The Universe award or something.  Two things have happened over the course of the last couple of weeks that I've almost completely neglected to write about:

1. Happy 2nd Birthday to Count Crybaby

I know I mentioned it in passing in another post, but I thought it was worth it's own announcement.  The day was fun.  We went grocery shopping and almost forgot to pick up a cake.  Ugh, I suck at this.

2. First Day of Preschool for Count Crybaby

The very first chance we got, we enrolled him in preschool.  He is still really excited to get dressed and leave the house.  So far he hasn't cried when we've dropped him off and his teachers are still gushing over what a cute little boy he is, so it all seems to be going well.  We'll see how they feel when he has one of his super-whiny, clingy days.

I should be expecting a call...

Yeah...the backpack vest-thing was not our first choice, but we couldn't find any other little backpack for him.  He seems to like running around in it though, so maybe it's a keeper.

The Laws Of Ownership

Over the weekend, BillyBirthdayBoy amassed himself a good little stockpile of brand new toys.  I don't know how other families work, but the boundaries of "ownership" in our house are a little fuzzy.  Whenever we get toys, we try to keep both of our kids in mind, as they both end up equally claiming everything.

I thought maybe TashaToySnatcher was old enough to start grasping the concept of personal possessions, so we were working on the "these toys belong to Billy" lessons.  Yesterday morning, we were playing with some of the toys before her brother woke up. Apparently, she knows something I don't though, as per this conversation:

TashaToySnatcher: Oh, boy!  I love my new fire engine Mama!!
Awesomeness: BillyBirthdayBoy got those yesterday for his birthday; they belong to him.
TashaToySnatcher: *Looks down at the toy in her hand and thinks for a minute.* No, Mama.  This toy no brother's.  He's sleeping.

The lesson: Ownership begins and ends with consciousness.

The Birthday Tree

Today is Count Crybaby's second birthday.  I asked his sister what she wanted to do to celebrate.  Her answers:

We sing "Happy Birthday".  We hab presents.  And we put the presents unner the tree!

A tree?

Yeah, we put brudder's presents unner the tree!

Anyone know where I can pick up a birthday tree? 

Smells Like Kid Spirit

The kids woke up while I was getting ready for work.  I was already running late, so I brought them into my bedroom with me and just let them play around.  They love to bounce on my bed and were keeping each other company.  It was going great, until I hear:

SoniaSnifferson: Mama, you smell sumpin?
Awesomeness: ....Nooooooo....what do you smell?
SoniaSnifferson: It smell like danger.
Awesomeness: ......   ?   Did you say danger?
SoniaSnifferson: Yeah, it smell like danger.

I turned my head to ask her what she's talking about and see my son dangling off the edge of my bed.  I'm not too alarmed since his feet are only 6 inches off the ground, but little Sonia felt that she needed to sound the alarm.

Another crisis averted thanks to my danger-sniffing daughter.

Quotes From The Week

This last week I've been on vacation.  That means I've spent most of my waking moments with my destructive, back-talking maniacs sweet angel children. Here are my favorite quotes from the week courtesy of WandaWordsmith:

Tuesday:

We took her in for a speech evaluation (finally, I know) where she was walked through a series of pictures and she was asked to discern whether the pictured item was a food or a toy.  She did spectacularly; she only missed one:

[Orange]
Wanda: It's a toy.
SpeechEvaluator: No, that one's an orange.  It's a food...
Wanda: No, orange is a toy.  It's for juggling.

Wednesday:

When I opened her door in the morning, I noticed that she was clutching her blanket.  A guilty expression crossed her face for a split second, then she hands it to me.

Wanda: It's wet Mama.
Awesomeness: *drops the blanket to the floor* How did it get wet?  Did you peepee your bed?
Wanda: NO!!  I NOT PEEPEE!!!
Awesomeness: How did it get wet then?
Wanda: You see my woody?
Awesomeness: ?!
Awesomeness: ...
Awesomeness: *finally understands...gimme a break, it was 5:30 in the morning* You're missing your Cowboy Woody doll?
Wanda: Yeah.
Awesomeness: Does that have something to do with why your blanket is wet?
Wanda: Yeah.
Awesomeness: Are you saying that Woody peepeed your blanket?
Wanda: Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaah....

Thursday:

She was having...health issues.  For the sake of sparing you all, I will insinuate only that a) yes, indeed, the word "explosive" can be applied to her...health issue when it appears on every square inch of the bathroom b) it took 1/2 a container of Clorox wipes to get my bathroom right again c) it took a half hour long shower for me to feel clean again after wiping it all up d) I still won't walk barefoot across the floor. Bleh!

While the massive clean up effort was going on I asked her to wait for me in the bathtub, because she was going to get hosed down next.  She kept trying to get out and finally I'd had enough:

Awesomeness: You stay in that bathtub and don't try to get out again, young lady!
Wanda: No!!  I not a lady anymore!
Awesomeness: *looked down at the 5 more gallons of...health issues...I still needed to clean up* Yeah.  I would say that's pretty accurate right now.

Friday:

Mr. A and I were just discussing the pleasant prospect of dealing with a no nap baby for the next 5 hours.  The kid got up late, he's eaten like a shark all day and has been running around playing like a normal kid (for once...).

Mr. A: Still no nap, huh?
Awesomeness: No.  You know he'll pull that dick move where he wants to nap 2 hours before bedtime.
Mr. A: Should be fun!
Mr. A (to NoNapNorman): You will stay awake until bedtime, child!
Wanda: You calm down now, Daddy.
Mr. A: ...
Mr. A: I'm just going to walk away.

The Kids' Room

RonnieRoommate, you've been in our bedroom now for almost 2 years.  I mean really, that's 20 years in Grown-Ups-Who-Don't-Want-To-Share-Rooms-With-Babies time.  I think you were a couple of weeks away from studying for your college entrance exams.  It was time.

Yesterday your Dada and I spent most of the day reorganizing your sister's room to get your bed in there.  We crammed the dresser and the bookshelf in the closet (seriously, these kids have a bigger closet than I do, it would make you sick), we finished putting up outlet covers and put a door knob cover on the closet door so we wouldn't wake up to a million books and articles of clothing everywhere.

We were ready for a battle when we took you upstairs.  You've been in Mama's room so long that I wasn't sure you could even fall asleep anywhere else.  I was convinced that you were going to throw a fit that could be heard halfway around the world.

I got you in bed and you fussed a little.  I read Mickey and the Beanstalk and you calmed down a bit.  Time for the real test: lights out.

Not a peep.

We turned on the baby monitor, convinced that you were scaling the walls.

Not a peep.

We changed the batteries in the baby monitor, because they were obviously bad.

Not a peep.

Stupid defective baby monitor, I think it's garbage....

Then we hear: "Yaaaaaaaawn" from RonnieRoommate.

Followed by ShirleyShoosher, "No, no.  No makka noise!  You s'posta be sleeping."

Sweet!

Time for some stiff drinks and Mario Party 8.  We know how to celebrate good times 'round here.

New Naptime Strategy, Part 2: The Double Whammy

Grateful Dead's Casey Jones 

Survival 101

CaveBabyCalvin doesn't talk.  He's just over a month away from his second birthday and he just grunts and cries when he wants something.  We're trying not to freak out too much about it, because his sister was pretty much the same way.

We're working with him though.  So far: we read to him, we name everything he touches, but we have also put together a collection of pictures in different categories so we can show them on our TV to CaveBaby.  He, like most kids, will pay attention to anything on the TV.

The bigger of the folders is for animals.  What kid doesn't like animals?  It turns into a family event, where even AnnieAnimalLover gets involved.  We're then able to bring up a picture and name the animal for Calvin and then discuss other facts about the animals with Annie.

Camel, buddy!  That's a camel.  He lives in the desert, Annie.

 And so on.  For whatever reason, Mr. A decided to turn tonight's picture show into an episode of Survivorman For Babies.  Then I had to be a smartass and it turned into an episode of When Good Kids Go Bad.  Here's how that played out:

Mr. A: Look! A snake!  Ssssssnake.  Annie, what do you do when you see a snake?

Annie: I dunno Daddy.

Mr. A: You run away.  You always run away from a snake.  A snake will bite you and you'll get hurt.

Annie: A snake is very ouchie.

Mr. A: That's right, so when you see a snake, you run away.

Mr. A: Spi-der.  Spi-der.  You also run away from a spider, Annie.  Run away and tell daddy when you see a spider.

Annie:  I run away from the spider.

Mr. A: Fla-min-go.  That's a flamingo.

Awesomeness: When you see a flamingo, you run away.  Flamingos are dangerous.

Annie: Oh no!  Flamingos!  I run away from flamingos.

Mr. A: *Shoots me a dirty look.*  Really?

Awesomeness: Look at them.  They're pink because they're bathed in blood. (blah, blah, blah ... because they eat shrimp ... that's not nearly as funny)

Annie: Flamingo is very ouchie.

Mr. A: That's a seahorse.  Sea-horse.

Annie: I luvva seahorse!

Mr. A: Great!  When you see a seahorse, you put a saddle on him and take him for a ride.

Awesomeness: Mine was funnier.

Mr. A: ...I think that's a monkey.

Awesomeness: It's clearly a lemur.  Look at that pizazz!  He obviously likes to move it, move it.

Mr. A: He looks like he's saying, "What's up motherfucker?!"

Awesomeness: He's saying, "I'm on the deck with my boys motherfucker."

Annie: Yeah motherfutter.

Mr. A: .... um

Awesomeness: Next picture please.

Future Therapy Sessions

Yep.  My kids are going to need some therapy when we get done with them.  Today's reason:

Every once in a while, PeggyPeePeePants will get too involved in whatever she's doing and forget to go to the bathroom until the last minute.  A year ago, we let her slide on that.  She'd just gotten the hang of going on the toilet, so we figured she needed a break.  Now, however, she's 4 years old.  She's been potty trained for well over a year now.  There's no excuse for it.

Slowly over the last year it became obvious to us that this problem wasn't resolving itself so we needed to step in.  Behaviorists we read up on had us reward her for going on the potty.  To that, I'll say, "That's not for my kid."  It just doesn't work.  We tried stickers, treats, stickers and treats, fake tattoos, extra computer time.  All sorts of fun things.  We were consistent with each reward and gave each one more than enough time to work.  Nothing.

This isn't to say that she doesn't go on the toilet the majority of the time.  She just has bad days.  Days where she goes through, on average, six pairs of underpants because she started going on her way to the toilet.  It's frustrating for her and frustrating for us.  So, when rewarding didn't work out, we tried punishment.

Time out.  STRIKE ONE.  Spanking.  STRIKE TWO. Grounding from cartoons/computer games/coloring and other enjoyable passtimes.  STRIKE THREE.  YEEEEEEER OUT!

Regrouping ... Thinking ...

Stand in the corner.  STRIKE ONE.  Make her wear her dirty panties.  EJECTED FROM THE GAME EARLY ON.  Well, shit...

Make her wear her daddy's clothes?  HOMERUN!!

This morning she peed her panties, then somehow got her dress in the toilet.  I didn't have another outfit downstairs and I wasn't about to run upstairs for another one, so I just grabbed one of her daddy's t-shirts and slapped it on her.  Listening to her carry on about it, you would think I stuck a rotting skunk carcass on the kid (you'll know I'm desperate when I actually do this).

PPPP: I don't wanna wear this.  This not a dress.  It's daddy's.
Awesomeness: Well, that's too bad honey.  You shouldn't have put your dress in the toilet.
PPPP: I wanna wear my clothes. PWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE Mama!
Awesomeness: I'll put your clothes on you when you stop sticking them in the toilet.  Until then you get to wear your daddy's shirt.
PPPP: I WANT MY CLOTHES NOW MAMA!
Awesomeness: Really?  Let's go show your daddy your new dress and see if he likes it.

I take her by her arm and lead her down the hallway to Mr. A's office.
PPPP: NO!  Dada, don't look at me!

She curls up in a little ball in the corner of the hallway to avoid being seen.

Mr. A: Huh.  She used to like wearing my shirts.
Awesomeness: Yeah, not so much anymore.  Now she's totally embarrassed to be seen in your stuff, dude.
Mr. A: I wonder if we could get her school to cooperate with her new dress code.
Awesomeness: It would probably be harder for them to keep it on her.  We could make her a special dress.  An ugly, gray one with a big red 'P' on the chest.  You know, for Pants Pisser.
Mr. A: I don't think she'd understand.  It would have to be something she doesn't like.
Awesomeness: She doesn't like meat.  We could just hang a steak around her neck.

I wonder how much therapy will cost in the year 2024...

Too Much, Ya Think?

I'm beginning to think that we allow SuzieSquarePantsFan to watch a little too much SpongeBob SquarePants.  It's been her favorite show since she was a year old and she still frequently asks to watch old episodes.  Sometimes enough is enough though...

Suzie: I wanna watch more SpongeBob.
Awesomeness: No, ma'am.  We've seen enough of him for the day.
Suzie: I wanna just watch that one SpongeBob...
Awesomeness: No.  No more Bob for the day.
Suzie: Aw, barnacles!

Watch What You Say: Lesson #294

I was cruising the grocery store today with PaulaRevere, when someone drove by in one of those little scooter things.

Paula: Mama, what that?

Awesomeness: It's a scooter.

Paula: A scooter?

Awesomeness: It's so people can ride around when they can't walk very well.

Paula: They drive 'round and 'round in the scooter?

Awesomeness: Yep.  We have to be careful and watch out for the people in the scooters.

Okay.   What I meant there was: "We have to watch out for them so we don't get in their way or hit them with our cart."  Honestly, I didn't even fathom that this could be misinterpreted.

Later in the trip, we reach the end of the aisle where there is a nice-looking old lady in a scooter.

Paula: OH NO MAMA!!!  LOOK OUT!!! THERE'S A SCOOTER!  LOOK OUT FOR THE SCOOTER MAMA!!!  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

I could not get out of that aisle fast enough.

Best Daddy Ever

Mr. A and DrummerDaisy were sitting on the couch earlier today.  Daisy was playing a toy drum that sings in Spanish.   After about 5 minutes of listening to it, Mr. A got annoyed and switched her drum to English.

Mr. A:  Maybe the drum should sing in English for a while.  You already know more Spanish than me, kid.

Daisy: Hey, you switch my drum!

Mr. A: Yep, because I'm the best daddy ever.

Daisy: Best daddy ever?

Mr. A: Yeah, the best daddy ever!

Daisy: .....

Mr. A: Well, I'm your best daddy ever.

Daisy: Yeah, you're my daddy...

Punked by a 4-year old.  It was sad to watch.

New Naptime Strategy

Play Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon

The Blame Game (It Begins Now)

BettyBlame-Shifter: Mama, I want some fish. (Goldfish crackers)

So, I got her some fish.  She then proceeds to sit on the couch with her bowl of fish.

Awesomeness: Young lady, we don't sit on  the couch with the fish.  Please take them to your table.

BettyBlame-Shifter: OOOOOOOOOOOH-taaaaaaaay. 

As she's getting up from the couch, she tips her bowl over.  Who didn't see that coming?

BettyBlame-Shifter: *looks at the mess for about 5 seconds* Mama!!  Look!  You make a mess.

Do The Dew!

Mr. A was in the kitchen earlier this evening, fixing dinner and chatting with me, when it occurs to him that he left the door to the office open.

The office, A.K.A. the Room of Doom is now infested by GilbertGrabbyHands.  This occurs to Mr. A very suddenly and he runs, frantically, for the room.  Two seconds later, I hear:

Oh yeah!  That's just fucking awesome. 

This isn't good.  Before I could yell out to get the story, Mr. A comes strolling in carrying GGHands by his arms.

?

Can you take him and change him?  He has a diaper full of Mountain Dew.

 Apparently GilbertGrabbyHands sat down in his Dada's computer chair and dumped Dada's fresh Mountain Dew all over himself.

Yeah, Mr. A, that is pretty fucking awesome.

Battle-Ready!

Tonight, BabyHoudini, I'm ready for you.  We got your crib knocked down to the lowest setting, I've got the door closed and the gate up at the top of the stairs.  I camped out at the top of the stairs for an extra 5 minutes just in case you decided to try something funny.  I kept you up for as long as possible for maximum tiredness.  What do you have to say about that?

Nothing.  I put you in your crib where you curled up in your blanket and went right to sleep.

Sweet.

Thanks For An Interesting Evening

ClarenceCribClimber:

Bottle Break 2010 was a success.  He hasn't had a bottle for almost 2 weeks now.  Nap time is a little hard on him, but he's been managing just fine.  Bedtime is the worst.  He still cries for up to 5 minutes when I put him to bed.  He does go to sleep though.

Until last night.  We went up to bed around 9:15.  He started crying; I walked away.

15 minutes later: still crying.
30 minutes later: still crying.
1 hour later: still crying.

I figured he has got to be close to crying himself to sleep by now...When all of a sudden, I hear his little voice.  Giggling.  From the stairwell.  This one:

The one that has lots of glass for him to smash his head into.  He made it all the way to the first landing (seen at the top of the picture) before I got to him.

While I was impressed that he made it down 4 steps without falling and breaking his neck, it didn't alleviate my my heart attack.

Apparently, he decided he was done with his bed and he wanted to come down to see us.

PriscillaPuker

This one wasn't too much of a shocker.  All day long, this kid has had gas that smelled like road kill.  We knew something along her digestive tract was bothering her, but she said her stomach felt fine.

Around 11:30, I woke up to her cries.  When I made my way over to her room, Mr. A was already there.  So was about a gallon of puke.

Family camp out on the couches.

Awesome.

Oh, except that ClarenceCribClimber can now get out of his crib and terrorize the house at will.

Sorry Mr. A, you're on your own.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................

Wile E. Coyote: Super Bad Coyote

It's Saturday morning cartoon time.  We're watching a classic Road Runner/Coyote cartoon.

LillyLooneyTunesFan: Look Mama!  It's a coyote! 
Awesomeness: Yep, that's the coyote.  What's he doing?
LillyLooneyTunesFan: The coyote is chasing the road runner.  He's a bad, bad coyote.
Awesomeness: Oh no!  What's that bad, bad coyote doing now?
LillyLooneyTunesFan: He gonna catch the road runner!
Awesomeness: What's he going to do when he catches the road runner?
LillyLooneyTunesFan: He gonna hit him!!

Go Away Fwy!

Today we discovered a breakthrough in fly repellent:

FarahFlyHater:  Go away icky fwy!
You get out my bathroom pweese.

IckyFwy: bbbbbbbbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

FarahFlyHater: Go out of my bathroom right NOW!

Icky Fwy: bbbbbbbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

FarahFlyHater:  I said RIGHT NOW!! YOU GET OUTTA MY BATHROOM RIGHT!! NOOOOOOW!!!


Icky Fwy: bbbbbbbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Yeah.  It works about as well as any other fly repellent.

Boys Have A Penis. Girls Have A Vagina

CuriousConnie has now had Sex Ed Lesson 2.

Lesson 1 occurred when she discovered her little girl area and we had to give her a word to call it.  I would love to just tell her to call it a vagina, but neither Mr. A nor I really don't like the word.  So we've taken to calling it her 'gina.  Not "correct", but I don't care.

Tonight, while playing with her brother in the tub, the inevitable finally happened.  She reached over and touched her brother.  There.  Then she giggled and said, "I touched Brother's butt."

Awesomeness: No, honey, that's not Brother's butt, that's his penis.
CuriousConnie: Yeah, that's right, that's his penis.  And that's his arm!

Yes, let's talk about his arm please.

I Want My Blankies Back

I have three throw blankets that hang around the living room waiting for me to catch a chill.  They never have to wait for very long, as I'm pretty much a lizard.  Recently, the kids have decided that, no matter how many of their own blankets are around, they need to use mine.  Usually as a napkin or toilet.

Right now I'm shivering and hunched over my laptop, using its heat to keep my hands from frosting over (which is also why I'm posting for a second time today--I've got to keep moving) and where are my blankets?

Blanket #1: The boy fell asleep in it the other night, so I left him in it to take him to bed.  What I failed to notice on the way up is that he spilled milk on it.  Later that night he got mad about the no bottle thing and it got kicked underneath his bed.  This is where I found it this morning.  Stinking like four day old milk.  It's in the washing machine right now.

Blanket #2: This is a huge black and gray comforter.  Not really a "throw" blanket, but sometimes I get really, really cold and a little, fuzzy butt-cover just won't do.  Right now it's missing.  I know the kids took it somewhere and did something with it, but now I can't find it.  Where would it be if I could find it?  In the wash with the throw.  The last time I saw the thing, my boy had peed on it while napping.

Blanket #3: Is in the car and I'm not touching it.  Carsick Cathy barfed on it.  Even if I washed it, I would know it used to have puke on it and, therefore, would not cover myself with it.  I'm a weirdo.  Someday, I will trick Mr. A into removing it from the car for me and then I will kill it with fire.

Yes the car smells.

Really though, it would smell anyway because of the fast food bags in the back.  And because of the week old coffee mug I keep forgetting to bring in.

Now this is getting gross, but I can't stop typing.

Selfish Corruption

Last year for Mother's Day, I got an escapee who wrote on my walls with permanent marker.  It was not the most stellar present.  This year, however, we're trying a new tactic: selfish corruption.  We started the morning by telling BrattyBetty that today is Mother's Day.  Tell your Mama "Happy Mother's Day," BrattyB!

Then, because we can tell her WHATEVER THE HELL WE WANT, Mother's Day is now a day when "kids have to do whatever their Mamas say" and when "Mamas get to type on their computers without babies crawling all over her (for once)," and when "Mama wants to check out your cool toy you just got for your birthday, you have to let her."

This will probably get out of control by the end of the day.

So far today, ClumsyCalvin has:

• fallen backwards off the coffee table
• peed on the floor
• fallen for no reason whatsoever and hit his head on my laptop

Apparently we were working on the wrong kid.

At least the kids are getting along:

BrattyBetty: Aw! ClumsyCalvin so cute!
Awesomeness: You love your brother?
BrattyBetty: Yeeeeeaaaaah!
Awesomeness: Is he your favorite brother?
BrattyBetty: No.  He's just a baby.
*****
Awesomeness: Can ClumsyCalvin share your balloons.  You have two of them, so you can let him play with one.
BrattyBetty: No. He's just a baby.  He no play with balloons.
*****
Awesomeness: Your brother was playing with that car.  You make him sad when you take things from him.
BrattyBetty: No. He no sad.  He's a baaaaaaby!


Nice to know she respects him as a person...

Third Night's A Charm?

Tonight was the night BillyBottleJunkie.  When I put you to bed, I was determined that I would not reward your crying with a bottle. 

No matter how angry you got. 
No matter how much snot your face got covered in. 
No matter how many blankets you threw on the floor.
No matter how many neighbors beat on the door telling us to tone it down.

45 minutes and 5,000 tears later, you're fast asleep.  I hope tomorrow is better for you.

Bottle Withdrawal

The signs of bottle withdrawal:

Ear shattering screams
Copious outpourings of mucus
Enough tears to drown a small rodent
Violent kicking of crib rails
Wanton destruction of nearby curtains
Unrestrained blanket tossing
Malicious wall-butting

If your child is exhibiting any of these signs, please administer the following:

One ear plug placed firmly in each ear
One firmly shut door between you and spazzing child
One shot of vodka

(All for you, by the way...)

Bottle Break 2010

It's time, Bottle-AholicBobby, to give it up.  You're 3 months shy of your 2nd birthday and you don't need the bottle to get you through the day anymore. 

You're proficient in your sippie usage, so no excuses there.  You're in a good sleep pattern that leaves you nice and tired at the end of the day, so no need to be soothed to sleep.

Last night you fooled me and I'm kinda pissed about getting tricked by an almost-2-year old.  I laid you down and you just went to sleep.  It did seem too easy and I should have known better, but you're really too cute to be considered devious, so I had high hopes for tonight.

I set you down in your bed and, "WWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!  I gave in and brought you a small bottle. 

B-ABobby: 1
Awesomeness: 1

So, we're all tied up tonight buddy, what's it going to be tomorrow?

It's Your Birthday, Sassypants!

Happy 4th birthday!  You sure have made this last year interesting. 

Anyone's Guess

What is this tantrum about? **turn your speakers down or off**



My guesses:

• You didn't nap
• You have a dirty diaper
• You're hungry
• You're cold
• You're congested
• You're teething
• Your sister hurt your feelings
• Your sister took a toy from you
• You were stung by a bee
• You got abducted by aliens and were subjected to an anal probe
• Your guidance counselor recommended Arm Pit Sniffer
• You are a cry-o-phile
• You saw your Dada naked
• You heard Wham! was getting back together
• You saw one of those awful E*Trade baby commercials
• You got locked in a dirty bathroom by a psychopath and had to saw off one of your feet
• You recognized the 3rd sign of the apocalypse
• No fucking reason whatsoever

I have eliminated all possibilities except that last one.

You Wanna Huh?

Last night:

MaggieMovieBuff: Mama, mama!  I wanna watch dis moobie!  

Awesomeness: .... Uh, that's Boondock Saints.  I'm not sure you'll like that one.

MaggieMovieBuff: I lubba dis moobie!! I wanna watch dis one .... puhleeeese.

Awesomeness: I'm going to Mommy Hell for this, but okay.

The theory was that she would hate it 5 minutes in and we would watch Wall-E or something instead.  We watched until I remembered the cat scene... Anyway, now I know that she will call my bluff, so I'll be a little more "voice of reason" the next time this comes up.

Tonight:

MaggieMovieBuff: Mama! Can I watch dis moobie again?

Awesomeness: No baby, let's watch something different.  We, uh, watched that movie last night.

MaggieMovieBuff: Mama, can I see Iron Man?

Awesomeness: Iron Man?

I should have known.  We were talking about it this morning.  It was her latest "guy" and I made the mistake of mentioning he had a movie.  I really need to remember that 3-year olds have longer memories than I expect.

And so much for "voice of reason".  We're now watching Iron Man.

MaggieMovieBuff: Where Iron Man?  Iron Man hiding...

Miscellaneous Stuff From The Week

InkyIrma Gets First Tattoo

Where in the hell were these things when I was a kid?  There were some temporary tattoos, but back in my day, "temporary" meant: This might not even last until the backing peels off.  This thing has been on her arm now for 4 days and it's still going strong.  It's been through bathtime and everything.  Spoiled-ass kids.  I might not have felt the need to get real tattoos if I knew about these things.

BabyGaGa Comes Out Of The Closet

Yup, those are his sister's stripey pink training pants.

You Found What? And Did What?

  

Awesomeness: What did you do today, honey?

DollyDigDug: I play in the yard and dig in the dirt!

Awesomeness: Wow!  What else did you do?

DollyDigDug: I find bugs in the dirt.

Awesomeness: How many bugs did you find?

DollyDigDug: One, two, three, four.  I find four bugs.

Awesomeness: That's totally cool!  What else did you find in the dirt?

DollyDigDug: I find chocolate in the dirt.

Awesomeness: ...chocolate?

DollyDigDug: I find chocolate and I eat it.

Awesomeness: I hope that was chocolate...

Billy Goat

Hey, BillyGoatBoy! Enough with the head butting.  I don't know where you picked this up, but you're going to end up in a plastic gerbil ball if it doesn't quit.  (My theory based on my lack of experience with boys -- read into that whatever you like -- is that it has to be a boy thing.)

You've hit me so hard in the mouth you've drawn blood and I thought one of my teeth was knocked loose.  I also thought you'd broken my nose on more than one occasion.  I have actually told my coworkers that if I show up to work with a black eye, broken nose or swollen lip, not to call the cops on my husband.  It's just little BamBam.  It was very embarrassing to admit that my 20-month old beats me up.

I thought you'd finally managed a trip to hospital tonight.  You threw a full-on tantrum running at me head first.  Unfortunately you timed this perfectly with my opening the refrigerator door.  You've got a lump on your head so big now that your great-grandmother is referring to you as "The Unicorn".

Unicorns are not manly, bro.

Eeeew Mama!

I'm sitting on the couch, staring ineffectively at my Blogger Dashboard.  I'm procrastinating posting because _____insert lame reason here_____ when...

LuluLoveBug comes up and gives me a great big hug.  Awwww....  Then proceeds to tell me:

Eeeew Mama!  You hair is disgusting.  It smells dirty.  Bleh.

Apparently my Day 3 hair is grossing out my 3-year old.  I'm going to go shower.

The Giant Chocolate Bunny Massacre