Wait...what??

The other day I was cuddling with my youngest on the couch.

 

"When you get big you are going to go away from here.

I will miss you so much!!

So let's just keep you little

 so you never have to leave me."

 

Lovingly, he responded,

"Don't worry, Mom. It will be okay.

You will always be my cousin."

 

 

 

That IS loud!

"Mom! Make him move," Brigham cried.

"Why?" I asked, as I pulled up my chair to the table.

"Because he smacks his lips so loud that his food flies onto my plate."

Whoa! That is a problem.
 
He must get it from his father.


Linking up with Mama Kat's writer's workshop.

Man's Best Friend

So glad I didn't listen when Hubs said a stuffed dog was too girly of a toy for my 5 year old.

Pshaw...

The mind of a four year old boy....

I came down the stairs, dressed and ready for work.

"Are you wearing that?" my four year old asked with a disgusted look on his face.

"Yes I am, why?" I answered, feeling a little self-conscious.

"Mom," ...deep sigh...."you are going to be so embarrassed."

"Why is that?" I asked, while inspecting my vest for food or other unwanteds.

"Because it's pink!"

Won Twin-Tea Won

121. One hundred twenty one. CXXI. One Two One.

121....the temperature at which one should decide to move to another state. I know. I felt that way when I lived in AZ.

121...the number of hours I work outside my home every month. Believe me, the IN-home hours are much harder, and yet that's where I would choose to spend my time.

121....11x11 (In case you didn't remember.)

121...the number of times my children asked for costumes when we had to go to Party City today. I know. I know. I was asking for it, taking them there this time of year. But sometimes we are glutton for punishment. (What an odd idiom...)

121...from today would be Feb 3 2013. This date has no significance to me other than it fits into my 121 theme. But if it has significance to you, note that it is only 121 days from today.

121... an age I hope I never reach.

121...the number of hours I sleep every 18 days.

121...an unattainable weight...for me...at my age...and at my motivation level. Not happening.

121...the number of pictures my 3 year old took that I just deleted off my phone. They were mostly blurry pictures of my neighborhood, his shoes, the back of my head, total strangers...his shoes.

They are pretty cool shoes. At least he thought so.

121 times. 

I hear voices

Did you know that urine lies.

Yeah. I know. I didn't think it had the capability to communicate, much less lie. But apparently it does.

You see, yesterday Briggy was complaining of a tummy-ache. So I helped him calm down and take a nap. Well, early this morning he came in crying of the same tummy ache...except the pain  was more in the bladder area.

He went to the bathroom. He came out crying saying, "Mommy. It hurts when I pee. It burns!" Okay, first of all, what three year old knows to describe pain as burning. I was impressed. Then I was worried. So I called and got him an appointment to be seen a little later today.

So when we got there they had him give them a urine sample. Those are always fun to get from a 3 year old. He thought it was fun to pee in a cup. I just didn't want to get peed on.

After we finished up and she had tested the sample, she came back in with the results.

"Well, his urine is telling us two things. First it is telling us that he (Brig) hasn't eaten breakfast..." she started.

Hold it right there. I saw him eat breakfast. Twice. Once when he woke up early and then again when we brought in the Krispy Kremes. I am sure there is some scientific name for urine that indicates a lack of breakfast. But no matter the name, I saw my child eat.

Lying urine.


PS. There was a small trace of protein in his urine. Could be something. Could be nothing. I'm betting on nothing. Lying urine...sheesh.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Deaf-speak

Pain.

It can go anywhere on your body.

I'm actually talking about the sign for the word pain. It is a locational sign. Yeah, I totally made the phrase "locational sign" up. But I'm allowed because: 1) It's my blog, 2) I'm married to a Deaf ASL Linguist, and 3) It's my blog.

A locational sign is a sign that can be put in a different location to add meaning to the word. Take pain, for instance. There is a sign for pain. If you sign pain near your forehead it means headache. If you sign it near your tooth it means toothache. If you sign it near your stomach it means bellyache. If you sign it near your neck it means husband...no...wait.

See, locational signs. (Hubs will tell me it is locative signs, but, again, my blog.)

In our house, Hubs and my oldest are constantly having headaches. Not quite sure why...we've checked out all possible causes, but they still remain...the headaches, not the men. Well, the men still remain...but  so do the headaches. My point, the sign "headache" is used often in our house.

So the other day, Brig and I were going somewhere and I handed him an apple and a juice. As we start driving he says, "Mommy, I want a strawberry, not an apple."

"Well, we can't have strawberries in the car. But, there are strawberries in your juice," I tell him.

Exasperated, he replies, "Mo-om! Remember? That juice gives my stomach a headache!"

Pain indeed.

He's a winner!

He pulled up his shorts, called my name and looked at me like this...



Hilarious, right?
"You wascally wabbit!" came to my mind.

PS...do any of you Instagram? My sister-in-law introduced me to it and I love it!! Do you?

I blame the toilet

Sometimes all it takes is just seeing the toilet.

We have our youngest in pull-ups at night. Most of time he wakes up dry. But sometimes all night is too long for him. Heck, sometimes all night is too long for me...but this is not a post about me.

So naturally when we stayed this past weekend at my sister's house, he slept in pull-ups. And like most mornings, he woke up dry. Every morning. I love it when that happens.

One such morning of pull-up dryness, we headed up the stairs for breakfast. Once up the stairs, he decided that it was time to go the the potty. He opened the door, dropped his pants, spotted the toilet and that was it. Game over. Open the flood gates.

Whoosh!

All over the floor. And when I say all over...I mean all over and then some. There he stood....with his dry pull-up at his ankles. I hate it when that happens!

Sigh...

Funny thing is I think he would have been okay...

...had he not looked at the toilet.

That's just plain awesome.

We have a new tradition. It semi-started last year but became full fledged this year. We make homemade shirts for the Super Bowl. Homemade as in "going to Hobby Lobby, choosing a T-shirt and getting fabric paint" shirts...

...not to be confused with the "go Jo-Anne's, buying fabric and a pattern that you don't really understand, and spend hours and hours making a shirt that you wouldn't be caught dead wearing" homemade. 

Right.

 

So we made our shirts on Saturday night. It was a lot of fun.

Briggy got so into it. He would squirt paint, then brush it around, then squirt some more of another color. It actually ended up pretty great. We were all praises and encouragement. Lots of fun.

We woke up Sunday morning and my boys insisted on putting their shirts on before church. When it was time to get dressed, there was no taking off Briggy's shirt. "No. I am wearing this shirt." I told him he could wear it the minute he got home. "No." He suggested wearing his church shirt under his Super Bowl shirt. 

I was finally able to convince him that he could wear his shirt under his church shirt...unbuttoned. Ugh. Some fights just aren't worth fighting, I tell ya.

But all through the first hour of church I tried convincing him how great it would be to button up his shirt. He wasn't having it.

I tried one more time. "Briggy. Are you sure you don't want to button this up."

"No, Mom.Those guys," pointing to the boys passing the Sacrament, "might see my shirt and say, 'Hey! That's awesome!'"

Yes, he was really proud of his shirt.

Breezy on top

There are just some things that shouldn't be done halfway.

Shaving your legs.

Painting a room.

Landing an airplane.

Pulling a hangnail.

Running a red light.

Birthing a baby.

Getting a haircut.

I can never resist shaving the top part off and leaving the sides long. At least for a moment.  I bust up when I do it. Every time.

My kids don't think it's as funny as I do. But hey, I'm the one cutting hair for free. And if they ever protest too much, I just leave it.

Halfway.

Potty party in the house!!

It is here.

I have put it off long enough. It's just one of those things that you can't put off forever. No matter how hard we try.

You guessed it. Potty training.

He is ready. Actually, he has been ready for quite sometime. But I haven't been.

Not because I love changing poopy diapers...because I don't. Really.

It just takes a lot of attention, diligence, energy, ...patience. Lots of patience. Oh, yeah, and laundry...lots and lots and lots of laundry. And in case you haven't noticed, I already have lots and lots and lots of laundry.

But here we are. It is time. One last time. And then I am done forever. Well, at least until Hubs decides to lose control and even then I don't think it will be training as much as damage control.

So get out the sticker charts. Bring on the candy treats, spot cleaner and really hot water rinses. Potty training in our house. 

Game on!!!

(He gets the "eating tomatoes like they are apples" from my mom.)

All over the floor

What is Christmas without nuts?


What's Christmas without this little guy?

 
What happens when the two meet??
 

This...

 

...and this

 

Yes, things have gone a little nuts here at the homestead. 

Literally!

How do I say this....

This morning my two year old, Brig, snuck into bed with me. He crawled over my half dead body and plopped himself right next to my face.

I closed my eyes and had almost fallen back to sleep when I hear him say,

"How about let's not do that."

"Huh? What did you say? What are you talking about?" I asked.

"This," he said and then he closed his eyes and began breathing. "That. How about let's not do that."

"Breathing? You don't want me to breath?....(processing...it is early, remember)...Oh, you don't want me to breath on you. Is that right?" I clarified.

"Yes. That. Let's don't do that."

Polite little boy, isn't he. Except that he was in my bed, on my pillow, in my face, asking me not to breath. But other than that, he's awesome!

Wish I had a better picture of him, but Hubs uploaded then deleted all the pictures off my phone and so this is what I have to work with. But believe me, he is as sweet as that cherry dipped cone, I tell ya.

You have something on your face...

You've got a little something on your cheek....

..right...there.

A little more to your right.

Ahhh... 

Nevermind.

If I could just get over myself...

This morning, I came down the stairs to find that my little Briggy was awake. I knelt down to his level and said, "Good morning, son! Come and give your mommy a kiss."

"No!" was his response.

"No? No? Come on. Just a little kissy, right here," I coaxed, pointing to my lips.

"No. I no want to," he refused.

"Waaaaaahhhhh. Boohooooooo," I sniffled. This was my attempt to teach him to show compassion. Empathy. Kindness.

"Stop crying!" he demanded. "You can't do that. Only I can."

Compassion FAIL.

The Dark Side of yogurt

Darth Vador loves yogurt.

What? You didn't get that from any of the Episodes? You need to pay a little more attention. He only says it everytime he enters a room.

How did this come to my attention? My two year old.

We were playing Star Wars and he was picking our guys. He said, "I want to be this guy. He likes yogurt."

"Darth Vador? How do you know he likes yogurt?" I asked.

"Because, he always goes like this: (whispering) 'Yooooguuuuurt. Yooooguuuuuurt.'"

Try it.

And there you have it. Darth Vador like yogurt.

Now the question is...does he like fruit on the bottom?

Whose child is this??

I love to play the piano.

Thing is, I rarely take/make the time to practice it. The piano. It sits in my livingroom. My children have had lessons and I enjoy hearing them practice the same song over and over and over and over again. Love it.  (I really do.)

Well, a good friend of mine has started a piano workshop for busy moms. We go to her house, she teaches us and gives us encouragement, and let's us perform the song that we have been practicing for the month. I love it, because if I know I am going to be playing for people, then I am motivated to practice.

I chose the song "For Good" from Wicked.

It has been really challenging. Partly because I want to sing along, which messes me up. And partly because the song is hard. I have taken it apart and worked on it in pieces. I am now putting it back together.

This morning, while I was waiting for my middle schooler to stop blaming me for everything to finish getting ready, I played through my song a couple times. When I was done, I declared to my son, "That is sounding good. I am doing a lot better."

Suddenly, from the other room, I hear my two year old yell, "No you not!"

That guy really knows how to make a girl feel good.

Linking up with Jenny Matlock's ABC Thursday. Wanna play?

May I have your attention, please!

No-one can say that I don't pay attention to my children.

No-one.

Nevermind that my little rascal writes on my wall. Okay, so it's walls. But who is counting? 

Surely you have made it to the grocery store before realizing that only two of the five children you took with you have on shoes. The others...not so much. C'mon! You've been there.

Yeah, I know there are brand-spanking-new markers floating around outside in Rufus' water bucket. Who do you think put them there? Wait a minute....that wasn't me. But I knew it was going to happen the minute I pulled out the paper for him to draw on with said markers. That's just the natural order of things...right? No?

Dirty faces. Empty gum wrappers in my purse. The rock collection on the floor.  All proof that I pay attention to my little ones.

But the best one happened this weekend.

Apparently Briggy made his way into the bathroom where all his diapers are kept. The Sam's Club sized diapers. He thought it a good idea to test those puppies out. In the sink. Yes, he did. He filled it up with both diapers and water. And then more water. And then more water. 

Yes, those diapers can hold a ton more than I could have dreamed possible.

Literally.

All I can say is I'm grateful it wasn't filled with something else.

That would have got my attention.

He IS clever!

My two year old can't say his 'G's. To be expected, right.

Today he came up to me and said, "Mommy. I want some dum."

"You want some gum?" I corrected.
"Yes. Dum."

"G.G.G. Gum," I coaxed.
"D.D.D. Dum."

My 11 year old, thinking he was pretty smart, said, "Briggy. Say, 'I'm a gummy." Are following his train of thought?

To which Brig replied, "You's a dummy."


By the way, tomorrow is going to be the appetizer recipe link up. Make some yummy appetizer. If you are on the ball, add a picture...or not. Blog about it. Then link up. Share your yummy appetizers so the rest of us can gain that last 5 pounds we have been hoping for enjoy them as well. See ya tomorrow!