You Never Come Over Anymore...

It's a frequent complaint of our childless friends.  I'm sure every parent has heard it at some point.  Beyond the usual tired excuse of it being a big hassle to pack kids up and get them out to someone else's house, there is another reason.  A good one.

Destruction.

There's only so much of it that you can curtail.  I don't care how good a parent you are, kids are kids.  Especially when you consider that there are many different types of destruction.  My kids hit them all at the Superbowl party we went to.

Destruction of Peace

• Terrible twos=terrible tantrums.  I was actually considering taking my son home early on in the visit. Five minutes in the door he started crying like someone kicked his favorite Wonder Pet.  He missed nap time though, and I thought that once he slept for a little while, he'd be just fine.  He did okay until he emptied out a 64-count box of crayons onto the floor and we took them away.  He was hitting his head on the floor (carpeted, doesn't have the same effect as it does at home, where our floors are made of laminate material), kicking everyone that tried to touch him and screaming bloody murder the whole time.  He did this in the middle of the game.

Destruction of Person

• One fat lip for a little girl, courtesy of my son's rock head.
• He got as good as he gave though, as an elbow ended up meeting his face at some point.
• One of our friends is about the right height that, when my son comes barreling around a corner, his rock head catches the friend right in the...rocks.

Destruction of Property

• An unknown quantity of Disney Princess accessories disappeared yesterday.  I know my son ate one princess shoe and attempted to also swallow a ring.  I saved it, but it's mangled now.  Beyond those, I don't have a clue until he passes it all.  I'm sure that we'll have some explaining to do if he poops at school tomorrow.
• A personal journal.  Hope they liked my daughter's pictures of Purple Kangaroo.  On every page.  She did it in pencil, so it was easily erased, but she's a heavy-fisted artist, so you can still see the impressions.
• A pool table.  Remember just a sentence ago, when I said that my girl got ahold of a pencil?  Yeah.  Our friend's pool table has light tan felt covering it.  Now it has some lovely artwork covering it as well.  We worked with our friend to clean it as thoroughly as possible, but the cleaners he had there couldn't get it out.  We took our walk of shame out the door the second the game ended.

Next year, we already have plans to stay home.  I'm sure we won't be invited back anyway, so it shouldn't be an issue.

Cookie Monster

Every year, Mr. A's boss gives him a tin of Kirkland European cookies.  It takes  us an eternity to finish off these tins because we're not huge cookie eaters. (I mean that both figuratively and literally.)  Never fear, CalvinCookieMonster has been making a vehement volunteer pitch to help move this along.

Just yesterday, it started as soon as he woke up:

Awesomeness: Good morning sunshine!  Did you have good sleeps? (don't judge, he's a 2-year old)
Calvin: *excitedly jumping up and down*  COOKIE!
Awesomeness: No, baby, we don't eat cookies right now.

We have the tin out on the breakfast bar (which I know is mighty contradictory to the fact that we don't eat them for breakfast) and every time anyone walked over that way:

Calvin: COOKIE!

I would ask if he was hungry, and he would get excited and run over to the breakfast bar:

Calvin: COOKIE! COOKIE! COOKIE!

At one point, yesterday, there were 4 adults standing near the cookie tin.  Calvin must have thought that, surely, one of us could get him what he needed.

Calvin: COOKIE!  COOKIE!  COOKIE!

This did not end well.  As soon as the four of us moved away without producing a single cookie for him, he melted down into a screaming, kicking fit.  Thankfully, our company thought it was funny in a pathetic way and were not planning to stay for very long.

Today, we are hiding the cookie tin.

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!

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................

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?

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.

I Just Don't Know

I haven't been able to (yes, yes, I'll get you some juice) write much lately and I (stop biting my arm) really don't know what the (are you okay?  where's the booboo?) problem is. 

I have (no, we don't take off our peedy diapers and put them on Mama's laptop while she's typing) plenty of time and the kids (get that basket off your brother's head!) like playing together (give your sister back her train!).

Mr. A helps keep them out of my (is it time for PerpetuallySickPetunia's medicine?) hair so I can get stuff (GET OFF THE COUNTER!!!) done.  NappyTimeNorman still takes some (SHHH! No screaming while your brother's sleeping.  Let's play in your room.) pretty good naps.

It's just so (stop using my arm as a monkey bar) amazing how lazy I've been (get off my neck, you're choking me) lately about keeping (yes, we'll watch Team Umizoomi in a minute, Mama's busy) up with my blogs.  It's, like, worse than (quit crying in my face...I said in a minute) usual lately.

Maybe (aw, do your teeth hurt little buddy?) it's because I've been (GET OUT OF THE BLINDS YOUNG LADY!) sick this last week...

I mean I feel (where's your panties?  you had them on a second ago) much better and I'm getting plenty (stop pushing the couch into your brother) of rest.  There's really nothing (PUT DOWN MAMA'S WII!) stopping me from getting anything (I hear you, I'll get you a sandwich in a minute) done.  I just need to find (do you have to go potty?) some inspiration.  I might just (NO! NOT ON THE FLOOR!  WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!!?)...

I give up.

That Explains It

The last week or so has been particularly cruel.  SharkToothSeamus has been a screaming non-stop like he's being eviscerated.  The screams could freeze your soul.  He's not eating well, he's hardly sleeping at all.  It's been a nightmare.

Last night, I tried to keep him calm by playing with him.  I turned him upside down and he's actually laughing -- for once.  That's when I notice 8 new teeth.  8.  All at once.

This kid needs a trophy.  And some Motrin.

Go To Sleep....Go To Sleeeeep....GO TO SLEEP LITTLE BABY!

So Sabertooth has officially earned a new nickname: Count Crybaby.  The Count because this kid just prefers to stay up all night.  I've been fighting his nocturnal habits for too many months now and figure that the new moniker will shame him into falling into sync with normal circadian rhythms.

The Crybaby comes from the fact that he actually is one.  He doesn't really want to nap much during the day anymore and then he wants to hang out all night too.  Some days he's awake from 6:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night with little more than a 15-30 minute nap.  This means that he's whiny and clingy for HOURS.

Hell, I get crabby when I have to conform to that schedule.

Oh, wait.  Since he gets up at 6:00, that means he gets 1 more hour of sleep than me.

Goodbye 2009

Good riddance.

The last week of the year was 2009's way of throwing one last flying elbow into our chests.

NuclearHeadNelly got up to 105.8 degrees on Tuesday.  We took her in to urgent care to see if they knew what was wrong and could help her in any way.  Of course, when we get her there, her temp had dropped to 97.  There's nothing for them to do for a kid that isn't presenting any symptoms, so we just took her home.

The next day, she was back up past 105 again.  We took her to see her regular doctor who promptly sent us on our way to the children's hospital for some blood work.  Whew! Action!! Action is my favorite.

Because our kid is stubborn -- her name even means "spirit of battle" and she earned it in the womb -- she somehow willed her veins not to dispense blood.  It took 4 arm pokes for them to even find a vein, then 3 nurses had to hold her in position while they forced the vein to give up the goods.  Even then, it took over an hour for them to get 2 small vials of blood from her.

She hated being there with a passion.  She cried to go home.  Even when her temperature dropped to 95 degrees, then leaped back up to 104.5, she was begging to go.  This, of course, lead to a hunger strike, which added to the misery of the hospital experience, because now she's also starving.

Two days of being in the hospital, 2 coloring books and a yellow balloon later, she's fine and back home.  I'm just sore that 2009 decided to kick us in the nuts this one last time before giving it up.

Here's hoping that 2010 is a year of good health.

No Bed For You!

I've been trying to sleep in my bed rather than on the couch lately.  So far, this has not been a roaring success.  If it's not LateNapLarry screwing me over by staying up all night, it's PleaseDon'tLeaveMePolly waking up in the middle of the night crying because she's afraid that we're going to leave her behind and not take her to preschool.  We are leaving her behind, but I'm hoping she won't figure that out until we're heading out the door.

We've left instruction for LateNap not to let him sleep after 4:00 in the afternoon.  Day 1 of someone else trying to enforce this caused the babysitter (Grandma) to toss a sleepy crying baby at me as soon as I walked through the door.  Her exact quote was, "I couldn't have kept him awake for much longer."  What I heard was, "His crying was giving me a headache and I was going to ruin your entire night by letting him sleep anyway if you didn't make it home soon."  So .... we've got some work to do there.

PleaseDon'tLeaveMe was up last night at 1:15 begging to go downstairs for water, then she refused to go back to bed.  Spending the night on the couch with a squirmy 3-year old watching Spongebob (the movie) is not the setting for pleasant dreams.  It's the setting for frequent waking as I'm being kicked all night, coupled by the fact that the title sequence played on a loop and that obnoxious Spongebob laugh kept jolting me out of any productive sleep patterns.  I know the obvious solution would be to either turn the movie down or off, but that required way more effort than I was committing to anything.

Catch Up Time!

Halloween:

The kids had tons of fun this year.  Despite what you see in this picture:

After he got the hood off (.39349 seconds after this picture was shot), he had a great time running around as 'The Bat' or, as ScarySissy called him: SuperBaby!

I think she would have been more excited to have the same costume as her brother.  She picked hers out and was begging us to let her wear it for almost a month.  We finally got it on her and:

Ten minutes later it was on the floor.  The headband was destroyed in about 1/2 an hour.  Those cutesy ribbons just pull right off, by the way.  Later that night she ran around the house with his hood on and his costume around her neck telling us, "I'm the bat!"

Last Saturday was also a big day for us.  It was our 4th year participating in the Making Strides For Breast Cancer 3-mile walk.  We had one excited walker:

And one really mad one (could have a little to do with the fact that he woke up to me shoving him into his car seat at 5:45 in the morning...):

Don't worry, that didn't last long:

I thought that the hike went really well until I realized at the end that MissyPissyPants had, well, pissed her damn pants.

Right before the walk started:

MissyPissyPants, do you have to go potty?

No, Mama.  No potty.

Are you sure you don't have to go peepee?

No, no peepee.

No.  Lots and lots of peepee, little liar girl. 

Vacation

Psssshtt.  I wish that's why I haven't been writing.  The truth is, the kids are not doing too hot. 

It's been 4 months since we started SaraSchoolGirl in preschool and 4 months since her nose and lungs have been clear of mucus.

It's been 4 months since BoogerBoyBob hasn't had to be wrestled down for a whole day to clear his poor nose.  I'm so glad we don't live in an apartment.

It's been 4 months since I've slept through the night in my own bed.  I do have a nice groove worked into the couch though.

It's been 4 months of always making sure we are well-stocked in anti-fever meds.

It's been 4 months since I've been able to string coherent thoughts together for any sustained period of time.

It's been 4 months since I've questioned why parents are half-crazy.

Some Girl

I don't know when, but at some point Some Girl ended up being my "I'm up at 2:40 a.m. and life is sucking" movie.  I'm just fascinated by Marissa Rabisi's character and her steady decline throughout the movie.  I'm pretty sure that I was jealous that she got to take pyrmaniacal actions against the source of her problems.  I just spoiled the end for anyone who hasn't seen it, but it's really a non-end anyway.

ChrissyCoughs-A-Lot was up at 2:30 hacking the last of her lungs out.  The 3 months solid that she's had her preschool crud has been hard on her.  I can't get mad at her; she hasn't had a decent night's sleep in all that time either.

I listened out for a while, to make sure that she wasn't also throwing up or crying, then snuggled back down into my nice, warm bed.

WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

That would be SidneySleepKiller.  I don't know if his sister's coughing woke him up or the sound of my comfort.  I pat him on the back and fix his blankets and pray to benevolent sleep spirits.  Those sleep spirits are scumbag twats.  No dice.  I think one of them peed on me.

I take him downstairs to change him and give him a bottle and pray to the benevolent catnap-on-the-couch spirits that this will be everything he needs.  Nope.  By this time Marissa's character is on her way to that special place in my heart.  I wonder if he'll ever sleep.  Well, actually, first I wonder if I've ever seen this movie from the beginning.  Then I wonder how I can come to an arrangement with the evil revenge spirits to sic my fire angel on those bastard catnap-on-the-couch spirits.  Then I wonder if he'll ever sleep.

The movie ends and I'm still holding my baby, trying to get him to calm down without my having to be upright and bouncing.  I think I'm going to trade in this kid's crib for a vibrating lounge chair.  Sure, it'll be expensive, but I'm sure it'll be worth its weight in gold.

He's finally down just in time for the alarm to go off.  Now I'm saying a little prayer to the benevolent coffee spirits.  I think I have an in with these guys. I put their coffee blessings in funny mugs and slip them some Chocolate Caramel cream.  Offerings -- it's all about the offerings.

Lava Zombie

LavaLarry has been running a fever for the last 2 days. It finally broke last night, thank goodness, but sick babies = glued to mommy. I feel incredibly bad for my babies when they don't feel good but that doesn't mean I want to spend all my time wearing them.

Now, he won't sleep.

He'll scream his head off for 3 hours.

He'll toss his bottle onto the floor and smack my hands for trying to give it to him.

He'll slide off my lap onto the floor then scream louder because he just figured out he can't be on my lap and the floor at the same time.

He'll claw my arms, chest and neck and then get all indignant when I have to put him down because I can't take it anymore.

He'll finally cry himself out, but then wake up every 2 minutes or so to continue crying for about 30 seconds before passing out again.

But sleep? Nope. What sense would that make?

Decisions, Decisions

This is the nightly dinner conversation with HerRoyalPickiness:

Me: What do you want for dinner PickyPatty?
PP: Cheese!
Me: You can't just eat cheese. What else do you want?
PP: Cheese!
Me: What do you want with your cheese? Noodles? Bread?
PP: No. No noodles. No bread.
Me: Then no cheese.
PP: WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Me: Those are your choices if you want cheese for dinner.
PP: CCCCCHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEE!
Me: No.
PP: 'Roni cheese.
Me: What, honey? I can't hear you.
PP: 'Ro-o-o-o-o-o-o-ni ccccchhhheeeeeeeeeeeessssse. Waaaaaaahhhhh!
Me: *Bangs head against wall.* (I heard if you do that long enough you can actually burn calories.) Do you want macaroni and cheese?
PP: Yeah.
Me: *fixes mac 'n cheese* Here you go!
PP: Nnnnooooo!!!! No want 'roni cheese.
Me: *Bangs head against wall.* (I'll be a size 2 before you know it.) Too bad honey. This is what I fixed because you said you wanted it.
PP: Cccccccchhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssseeeeee!
Me: Yep. 'Roni and cheese. Just what you asked for.
PP: Nnnnnnnoooooooo! Waaaaaaahhhhh!
Me: It'll be on your table if you get hungry.

10 minutes later:
PP: *eating macaroni and cheese*
Me: What do you want with your mac 'n cheese? Applesauce? Peaches?...
PP: Cheese, please.
Me: *slowly backs out of the room*

Backfire!

Don't lie to your kids. They might not have the reasoning skills to process the information you're giving them correctly. They will also supplement their lack of reasoning with imagination. Or even worse, they might just take you literally.

We're sticklers for teaching our children to clean their own messes. MissMess has been cleaning up her toys since she could walk to the toy bin. When it comes to the bathtub, we have a tub toy bin and we ask her to collect her toys and put them away before leaving the tub.

Unfortunately, she's not always compliant with these requests and we're completely stubborn about her doing this every time. So, at some point, Mr. Awesomeness felt it was a good idea to tell her that if she doesn't pick up her toys, they'll get sucked down the drain with the water.

I forget this and often pull the plug on the tub before even requesting that she clean up. The screams can be heard around the neighborhood. She frantically scrambles, crying, for every toy. Because she's freaking out, though, she doesn't always make it into the bin with the toy before moving on to the next.

So all that time I spend getting her calmed down with a nice, warm, fun bath is for nothing. Now I'm dealing with a frantic, crying mess. Way to go Dada.

Open Up And Say NNNNNOOOOOO!!

Monday was ToothyTina's first visit to a dentist. We've been getting a lot of pressure to take her to a pediatric dentist, but we thought we'd try to take her to the family dentist first. I don't know what advantages there are to the pediatric dentist, but I don't want to end up sitting in a place where some bozos are wearing clown suits and singing "Skip To My Lou" to drown out the drill.

So, in case you were wondering, this is exactly what I think of when someone mentions pretty much anything that caters strictly to children.

She was actually having a great time. There was a cool fountain in the waiting area that she looked at for quite some time. She also had a lot of fun comparing leaves on the plants. There was a cool video about tooth decay playing on a flat screen. A bobble head with braces. The staff was really nice to her and she was enjoying their company. The dentist even came out and asked her name and how old she was. She wasn't shy at all to tell him anything.

When it's time for her to go back to the room, Dada takes her back and all anyone hears is....
"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Do you wanna brush the big play teeth?
"NNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Do you wanna....
"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I had an appointment at the same time. I could hear cries followed by the assistants all running up and down the hall clucking, "She's crying. She won't even let Amy count her teeth."

Meanwhile, I'm slinking further down in my chair. I didn't expect her to love it there, but I was kinda hoping that someone would at least get a good look at her teeth. I don't think she has cavities, but I'd like a professional observation on that.

On the way out, she's got her little goody bag full of non-candy prizes. I ask her on the way home, "Did you like the dentist?" She says, "I luvva dentist!" We need to work on her definition of the word "luvva."

The good news: they didn't charge me for her visit. Pretty nice!