Wordy and Wordless Wednesday

WORDY:

1. (Looking at a lawn decoration of Baby Jesus) "Mama, where Jofess?" "Who?" "Jofess! You know, Mary and Jofess!"

2. "Santa gonna sneak in our house and eat da cookies and have a yittle snack...he hungwy. And he take a yittle peak in my woom to make sure I'm sweeping. And Wu-dolf gonna help put da tweats in da shoes!" (He couldn't think of the word "stocking")

3. "Mama? You turn on worship music so I can dwum to da beat?"

4. "I pwayin da guitar for Jesus!" (He totally made this up on his own.)

5. "Ava cwying. I be-er go wescue her! (sets himself up in running position and then runs "as fass as I can!" to her room) 'Don't worry Ava! Ca-web coming! Don't worry, Baby Jayne. I'm here.'"

6. (In the car while Ava's crying) "We almost dare, Ava, don't cwy (cry)."

7. He now asks all questions in the form of a statement (because he thinks he always knows the answer). "We going to Didneywand (Disneyland) today."

8. "It weally windy out here. I be-er put my hands in my pockets so dey don't blow away. Mama? You hold Ava so she don't blow away up in da sky?" (His poor vivid imagination.)

9. (After telling him not to play with the shower curtain so it doesn't fall on us.) "Yeah, it might fall on you. And you might break...into yittle pieces. (using fingers to show how the little pieces would scatter)"

10. (playing the 'air drums') "I pway da bass dwum yike dis (deep) "BOOM BOOM BOOM" And I pway da snare dwum yike dis "boom boom" And I pway da cymbols yike dis "ch! ch! ch!" He cocks his head to the side, looks at me like a teacher and puts hand to his ear and says, "Hear da difference?"


WORDLESS:

I Un-Give Up

Wow- welcome to December.

I think my last post was around August. My computer broke. My baby girl started crawling. My toddler boy...is, well, a toddler. I got a job. My mind was too jumbled to construct any kind of comprehensible blog post...perhaps that is still an issue. I gave up on blogging for a while.

Anyways- I keep having thoughts about things I want to remember and blog about. But since I haven't blogged in so long I feel like I have to start back with something extra interesting or entertaining. I give up on that.

I'll just post tonight about my little man's milestone today.

I was doing a little work in the family room while both kids were napping. I suddenly heard something very familiar yet unexpected...running feet. Either it was a sound that would end with me wondering what the heck it was (rats in the attic again?) or it would be my little boy running "as fass as I can" down the hallway.

But...he still sleeps in a crib.

I know this is just what happens and every mom has experienced it. I don't know why I thought I'd be an exception, but I really did plan on leaving him in his crib until he just didn't fit anymore...I was thinking like 6 years old. Yes, I'm serious.

I told Tim tonight that I am NOT one of those moms who push their kids on to the "next stage". I am the mom that knocks the kid down and sweeps their legs out from under them so that they DON'T learn to walk or reach the next milestone. Caleb was basically begging me to go on the potty before I finally gave in to him and potty trained him.

Back to my story...
The running feet ended with him coming to a quick halt in front of me with a mischievous grin on his face.
Me (my eyes as big as grapes): "How did you get out??"
Caleb (using hands to talk while nodding his head in explanation): "Cuz...ah- I just wanted to see you!" (BIG smile)
Me: "Um- HOW did you get out, Buddy?" (adding a kind inflection at the end of my question so he doesn't make up a toddler lie) "Can you show me how you got out?"
Caleb: (Looking at me like I'm trapping him in a corner...) "Okay."
I put him back in his crib so he could reenact. He began his amazing task of climbing out...but then stopped and looked at me very seriously.
"You can't say no."
Me: "Don't worry, Buddy. I won't say no. It's okay."
He continues.
He stops.
"I not get in Twouble."
Me: "You're not in trouble. I just want to see how you got out."
He completed his mission and was more proud than ever.
I banged my head against the wall a few times and then got to work on the toddler bed conversion.
I'm hoping for ALL of us to sleep tonight.

My New Workout

Sick of the treadmill? Grab a two-year-old!

Caleb keeps me on my toes all day long. I find myself literally chasing him sometimes to prevent some kind of disaster from happening. That alone raises my heart rate.

But I've just discovered my new favorite way to work out. It begins with these words:

"Dance wit me, Mama."

Those words not only warm my heart, they motivate me. Immediately I throw him up on my hip, he says "hode my hand", and away we go.

I sing:

"SHHH-AAAAA-LLL weeeee DANCE! (ba-da-ba-ba.)" We then spin and twirl around the room dancing ballroom style to a song that I only know a few words to. The giggling and "again! again!" is better motivation to keep going than any iPod can ever provide.

Every time he melts my heart with those words, I picture his wedding day. And I picture myself dancing with him, looking back on all of our incredible memories that are being made right NOW. Somehow with these images in my mind, I find myself with a little more patience and a few more smiles throughout my day.

Wordy & Wordless Wednesday

Is it Wednesday already?

WORDY:
1. (marching around the house) "FE FI FO FUM! I a GIANT! ROOOOAAAR" (Mother Goose is scary.)

2. "I a BIG BOY!! Big boy not need take a nap!" (count down from 10...he's out.)

3. (Praying) "And thank you fo Daddy's work."

4. Me: Who are you coloring that for? Caleb: Jesus.

5. (Me witnessing Caleb counting things on a picture, surprised.) "Wow! You are SO smart, Caleb!" (Caleb even more high-pitched and excited than normal) "YEAH! Tanks!"

6. (Looking around his room for his book. Now digging into my eye...) "Nope. Not in ye eye." (Digging in my chin) "Nope. Not in ye chinny chin chin." "Open ye MOUF. Nope! Not in ye mouf!"

7. (Pointing to eye lashes) "No! Dose not EYE BLASHES! Dose EYE BWOWS!"

8. Having me lay down on the floor, covering me with blankets, and bringing me a pot full of his play food. "Dwink da soup, Mama. You sick. And way down and sweep. You feel better." (I love his pretend games.)



WORDLESS:

A Little Bit of Ava Jayne

Although much of my time and energy is spent chasing my 2 1/2 year old, I must stop and take a minute to talk about our little sweetheart...Ava Jayne.

When I say sweetheart, I mean it.

Ava is the most relaxed, happy, smiling, joyful, beautiful, funny, make-someone's-day little four month old girl I have ever met. I have a lump in my throat just thinking of her right now. We just love her so much...



She's at a fun stage of life. She constantly smiles. Sometimes she just looks at us and begins to smile ear to ear when we're not even looking at her. She rolls over and tries to scoot across the floor. She plays and gnaws on toys. She tries to sit up almost all the time. She already has abs of steel and has super strength like her brother. She holds our fingers and stands straight up. When she's really happy, she gets a huge grin, her eyes light up and get wide, and she takes a deep breath in as if she can hardly stand how happy she is. Her giggle is subtle and as sweet as can be. She seems to have a fun personality and can already be kind of a goofball.



She adores her big brother. He absolutely loves her too (whew). If he walks by her, even without looking at her, she gets so unbelievably excited and sort of flaps her arms and smiles with giddy excitement. When I say he loves her, he REALLY does (sometimes so much she can't breathe). He introduces her to everyone he meets and always says how "CeeEe-UTE" she is. She lets him do just about anything to her...with a smile too. He "boops" her with his finger pokes, he "hugs" her until she turns color, and he drums on her tummy with some serious beats. But she looks at him and admires him as if he is the best thing she has ever seen. Here are some wonderful classic brother/sister moments caught:











She is a very special girl, and we love her so much.

Wordy & Wordless Wednesday

Wordy:
1. "My name Cay-ub. Dis sit-ster, Ava. Dat Mama. (pointing to Daddy) Dis BESS FWEND, DADDY!" (hearts stolen.)

2. "Yeah! Wet's go wimming! (thoughtful look) Noo...wimming too wet for me."

3. In the car as I was eating a tortilla chip, Caleb asked for one. "Sorry, Buddy, they're too sharp." Caleb (desperately): "No it NOT too sharp! It Dee-YISH-is!"

4. "Instinints" (Instruments...EVERYthing is an instrument in our house.)

5. He's beginning to say sorry the way I say sorry to him. "Sorry, you can't play right now. It's nap time." Or "You can't have that, Buddy, Sorry."
He says: "I not take a nap wight now. Sorry, Mama."





Wordless:

The frugal Haircut

Sure he got a mouthful of hair, he was sneezing out hairs all night, his lungs were full of it, I cut my finger, we made a mess, and it's not a perfect haircut...but I saved 20 BUCKS!
And now...he can see.



BEFORE:



At first he said it tickled...but soon he got sick of holding still.

I was laughing hysterically (quietly to myself) at the first few cuts I made...I pictured him going out in public looking like...well like his mom cut his hair.
What was I thinking?
I guess I was thinking that my big brother and his wife are both hair stylists, and maybe the talent would run in the family!
Maybe not, but...whatever-I saved 20 bucks.


The Back:



Ava during all the Edward Scissorhands madness:




The Top:




What a sweet little guy.



I better save money on these things while I can because before I know it he's going to turn into a "cool" teenager...and never be caught in public with a "mom" haircut!

Public Potty Parade!

This is not the type of parade that involves beautiful floats riding down the street or dressed up characters dancing. The only thing in common this parade has with a real parade is the public dirt...and perhaps a candy or two.

Once the kid gets the idea of potty training, "Potty Boot Camp" says it's necessary to practice going potty in public so they get used to other potties. (Once my gag reflex stopped, we faced the public restrooms...It wasn't pretty.) Here are a few examples of our public potty parade.

#1. Dr.'s office. Ava's in the bjorn. Caleb is on the table waiting for the doctor. He gets the look...you know what look I'm talking about. While his face color begins to change, my mind races: "Should we leave the room to find the bathroom? With Ava? And no potty seat? What if he falls in? What if I fall in? What if Ava falls in?? Okay...stop...just GO!" Caleb's now saying "Hoo-ey! Hoo-ey!"

So we hurry. With Ava strapped to me, I throw him on my hip, swing the door open, and start running down the hall as if we're being chased by the poop monster.

We find the restroom...No time to think about all of the diseases we will all surely catch from this experience. I cover the toilet with at least 3 inches of toilet paper as Caleb waits desperately.

As I hold the sweet boy on the potty, I find my mind thinking very seriously about the Bjorn company. I look down at Ava, and because I am completely leaned over, her sleeping body is horizontal to the ground. She is literally being dangled over a public toilet... Whew. Thank you, Bjorn. You make stong material.

SUCCESS! We clean up, nearly overflow the toilet with the layers of toilet paper, and run back to the room. For the first time ever, I am thankful the doctor is late.

#2. Campground. Just picture camping people...dirt and stink are the two words that come to my mind because that is how I describe myself while camping. Now picture the public campground bathrooms. Granted, they're not horrendous, but they're not perfect either.

Again, I see the look on Caleb's face. It's time to go. As we begin the jaunt down the road and through some campsites, I hear Tim's desperate words of advice (he's just as grossed out by the idea of his delicate toddler boy sitting on the nasty germs): "Make sure you COVER it with toilet paper!!" "Don't worry, Babe. I got it covered."

We make it to the stall. "Don't touch anything, Caleb." "Okay, Mama." (Drumming on the stall door.) "Yucky! Everything is YUCKY in here, OKAY??! Please don't touch!" "Okay, Mama." (Now drumming on the toilet paper dispenser.) "Caleb! Don't touch!" (Drumming on the grossest item in the stall: The trash bag holder thing...EWW!) I have GOT to hurry up and get him on this potty!

As I attempt to hold in my jittery, grossed-out emotions, I lay down the first piece of toilet paper. I go to tear off some more from the dispenser when I look down and immediately hear Tim's voice in my head. As if in slow motion, I witness Caleb pick up the piece of toilet paper from the middle secion of the toilet seat, BLOW his NOSE with it, and throw it in the toilet. "NOOOOOOO!"

I was horrified. Great- now I have to re-cover the seat...ah forget it! He just blew his nose with toilet seat. Just get him on the potty and get out of there!!

#3. The Zoo. No need to go into detail about the disgust I felt from head to toe as I glanced around the crowded restroom.

Since Caleb now "holds it" most of the time, I have to be on my "A Game" with taking him to go. This time, I was prepared with special potty seat covers, wipes and sticker rewards (like he really cared).

We go into the stall. I have a flashback of the camping episode as I watch him begin the drumming again. I quickly tell him to hold on to my leg with both hands. (This works for exactly 30 seconds until he begins to unroll the toilet paper.) I'm trying to get the darn potty seat cover ready (that I PAID for). The "handy" adhesive that will prevent him from sliding around is about to give me a small panick attack because the wrapper won't come off.

I am now standing in 6 inches of toilet paper. My feet are buried. I can only see the top of Caleb's head. Not really, but you get the idea.

I'm sweating, but I finally get the expensive seat cover ready and sit him on the potty. I was out of pull-ups and not brave enough to put on his real underwear, so he was in a diaper. He took care of his business (albeit ON the seat cover), and I began to get his diaper back on, with him standing up.

Suddenly I felt creeped out. My bag full of goodies (seat covers, wipes, stickers,etc.) had just fallen to the ground. I'm nearly giggling hysterically like a crazy lady at all of the potty drama when I look down and see what seems to be moving floor tiles.

"Wook, Mama! Ants!" I look over at the huge ant trail marching from the ground to the trash holder. I had just thrown away the over-priced seat cover and had messed up their formation. They were angry ants.

"Let's get OUTTA here, Caleb!"

No wonder everyone was staring at us as we came running out of the stall.

I'm done with parades...and public potties for a while.

Potty Training...It Continues

"Potty training ain't for sissies," she said to herself as she swung her legs out of bed and planted her feet firmly on the floor. (Cue old Western movie whistling sound effects) With a stern look of determination, a pull-up in each holster, and a gleam in her eye, Mrs. Potato Head jumped back in the saddle again. This time...she'd be ready.

(Again, I've never claimed to be normal...don't mind my glitch in social normalcy.)

I was determined to keep trying. If I had to temporarily quit again in the midst of a breakdown, then fine, but for now I was going to jump right in.

And it worked!

Or something worked.

Actually, I have no idea what really "worked", but something clicked inside his mind, and on Day 3 he began to simply go on the potty. (Looking back, I realize that I had actually quit on Day 2, not Day 3...I didn't even make it 2 full days.)

He must have woken up that morning with the same western music whistling in his ears. No more sitting on the cold floor waiting as he would finally look at me concerned and say "IT NOT WORKING."
He would simply get on, "listen for da tinkle", and get off.

Perhaps it was all of my encouraging "happy" smiles.
Or maybe it was the celebration dance I would perform with him when he "did it".
Maybe it was all of the stickers and "Veggie Tay-ol candies" he would receive.

Or maybe he was just plain sick of my tinkle train and tinkle cha-cha dance.
I can just hear him thinking about how ridiculous they were.

Or maybe he took one look at my new look of cowboy-like determination and ran straight to the potty in fear.

Frankly, I don't really care what made him begin to start "putting his tinkle in the potty". I'm just glad we're on the path to diaper freedom.

Does he tell me that he has to go? No.
Does he always make it to the potty on time? No.
Does he care? No.

But when it comes to potty training...we ain't no SISSIES!

My Babies

My favorite part about this precious photo is that it was not posed. They sit together this way...
I sat Ava down next to Caleb so I could run to grab something in the other room. I came back to this.
My heart melts and my cup runs over.

Wordy Wednesday

1. "Tick-ott" As in, "You tick-ott Ava, Mama." "No Buddy, I didn't forget her. I'm getting her right now!" (my worst fear)

2. "Ban-Bain" As in, "Wook, Daddy! I have Ban-Bain on my knee to Ti-teck my Boo-Boo." (a Band-aid to protect my boo-boo)

3. "Monkey Kittens" As in, Meerkats. (He made this name up after a trip to the zoo when he couldn't remember what they were called.)

4. "Woooore!!" As in, "I woooored at da kids at church!" (He roared at them! Great...)

5. "Dench Fwy" As in, "Pweeze can I have a dench fwy wit my cheese sandwich?" (french fry. Again...great.)

Potty Training: Interruptions

The first 3 days were about the same, with only some minor interruptions...
Did I say minor?

Day 1: Doorbell...loud knocking.
Caleb runs to open the door in his unnawear pants. I suddenly find myself in my favorite TV show: "The Mentalist"! Two DETECTIVES are at my door! (with guns, a notepad, cool sunglasses and badges) I walk outside to answer their questions about some lame-o stealing social security numbers from people I don't know. Suddenly, while still talking to the super cool detectives (and pretending I am on TV), the front door slams shut.
"Oh- that's just my sweet 2 year old. No- it's fine. No- really...don't mind him. He's just potty training today, so he's a little..um..excited."

Then the sound we were all somehow anticipating happened:
LOCK!

Again, me playing it cool (Hey- this was my chance to be the actress I always wanted to be): (Smoothly) "Umm...Okay...well...I'll just tell him to open the door." (Sweetly) "Caleb, honey? Can you please open the door for mama?" (no answer)
The detectives each give a look of both sympathy and relief that they were not responsible for this potty-training-two-year-old.

Super Cool Detective Lady: "Well, we've got all the information we need...You sure you'll be able to get back in?"

Super Cool Me: "Ohh- yeah! Pshh- No big deal! I can just go around back"

Both detectives thank me and leave. I hear the guy whisper..."Wow...KIDS."

Are they gone? Okay good!
"CALEB!!! Oh-PEN THE DOOOR RIGHT NOW!"
(crying from inside) "I hoot my bah-yum, Mama! Kiss it!!"
"I cannot get inside! Caleb, you have to UNLOCK the DOOR!!"
(running feet)

I go around back to find all doors securely locked. (Well, at least I know we're safe inside!) Now if only I could get back inside...

I go back around front, knock and hear sweet running feet again...This time in the direction towards the door.

UNLOCK

Whew.

Needless to say, we didn't make it to the potty on time.

Day 2: Caleb gets a black eye. (No, not from me...Potty training's tough, but not worth fighting about!)

He was simply running to show me a cool new drumming move, he tripped and the end of his "rocking guitar" jammed right into his eye...his first black eye. (Didn't make it to the potty this time either.)

Day 3: He simply refuses.
He runs as far from the potty as possible.
I'm tired and don't choose this battle.
His unnawear pants are wet.
He doesn't care.
He's a boy.

I temporarily quit Potty Training, strap the kids in the car and turn the radio up.

Potty Training: Day 1

This season of my life is simply hilarious. I often find my mind wandering back to my honeymoon days...on the beach...truly careless without any tiny lives that I was responsible for. I was well-rested, clean, and had plenty of time for...ANYthing!
Did I mention I was clean?

When I was about 13, I distinctly remember one of my parents asking me what my favorite age had been so far. I answered that I liked something about every age. Although I was looking forward to lots of upcoming birthdays, I knew that I would not be in the current moment for long. So, I committed myself to enjoying every life stage as much as I possibly could. I try to do the same with my kids' ages as well. There is SO much to enjoy...

...including potty training?? Okay, maybe I'm using the word "enjoy" a little lightly.

Last Thursday, I declared it "Potty Day". After months of Caleb showing me sign after sign of readiness, I finally got MYself ready. I read some tips online (I liked the "Potty Training Boot Camp" site: ). Then I hung up a big picture from a coloring book so that he could put his sticker reward up and see it every time he sat on the potty. I had the soap and towel ready and footstool in place.

He woke up that morning, and we put on his "big boy unna-wear pants" (as he calls them). That day his outfit consisted of "unnawear pants" and a little wifebeater tank top. Besides him looking unbearably cute, this would be nice and potty-friendly.

The first two times were flawless! It was so exciting.

By the third time, he was over it.
I guess if someone was making me sit on the potty every 45 minutes, I'd be over it too.

By mid-day, I was doing things I never expected. The sticker reward was now secondary to the "candy" (fruitsnack) reward that I finally forfeited to. I was giving shoulder rides, horsey rides, crawling, and racing to the potty.

"Potty Boot Camp" said to make it fun and not negative. So I smiled.
And I smiled.
And I gritted my teeth and smiled.
My eyebrows frowned, my eyes glared, my fists clenched...
but I smiled.

By the end of the day, I had actually come up with a song and dance (picture a conga line kind of dance) "Ah-Tinkle-in-the-Pott-ay! Ah-Tinkle-in-the-Pott-ay!". If that didn't work, he would at least jump on the "Tinkle Train". "Tinkle, Tinkle, Tinkle, Tinkle..Choo Choo!!" He couldn't resist that.

I wasn't thinking of Potty Trains on my honeymoon...

Decisions, Decisions

They say being a mom is one of the hardest jobs. I doubt it (as I think of those crazy crab catcher people on the scary ships in the treacherous ocean), but anyways.
One of the reasons they say this is because of the thousands of decisions you have to make on a daily basis...

I am writing as I hear Caleb yelling in his bed for me to get him out. ("Cay-ub want you, Mama!" "Cay-ub can't sweep, Mama!" "Cay-ub want see Ava!" "Cay-ub want dwink cold water, Mama!") Do I go in there? I know what you're thinking...why the heck wouldn't you?

Well, the problem is that he fell asleep in the car while on the way back from my "escape" (dun. dun. dun...)

I was having one of those mornings when I could feel every hair sticking up on my arms...I was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off...I'm talking very little patience from someone who is normally pretty darn patient. So- I packed the kiddos up. No more whining about not being able to find this or that. No more "Wah (hold me) Wah! (pick me up) Whah! (I'm hungry)" cries from Ava...a break- even if it was tiny...they would be STRAPPED down in the back seat, and I could just pretend that everything was under control. Oh and I could then get my junk food (Chick-fil-a) and caffeine fix...

So back to the problem. He usually naps for THREE hours (ahh...nice.) at around 1:30 or 2. But it was noon, and he fell asleep in the car. This usually means his nap for the day will be as long as the car ride (in this case 5 minutes)...unless I could successfully get him into his bed without waking him up. We pulled into the garage and it was do or die. Transfer to the crib without waking him up or he would be awake until BEDtime...Please, Lord, PLEASE let him transfer to his bed.

I successfully got Ava out, put her inside, got Caleb's bed ready, took off his shoes, lifted him out of the carseat...and...Suddenly...he picks up his head, looks at the open car door, and shuts it for me (as if that was his duty and he couldn't possibly sleep through it).

Oh noooooo! So here I am...with my decision. Leave him in there crying and hope he falls asleep. Or save him from his misery and get him up, sacrificing his nap for the day...

I guess there are worse things than spending a little extra time with my growing little man today...wait a second...have I gone deaf? It's quiet in there. Did he finally surrender to peaceful slumber?

Absolutely not. Silence, in this situation, only means trouble... In fact, I just heard him say something about getting on a rocket ship to da moon. Not sure what that means, so I think I'll go and rescue him.

Caleb "isms"

1. "Mama, wook! I found a Jee-suh book!" (Apparently any book with a cartoon on the front with a bunch of guys with beards and animals is a "Jesus" book.) "Jesus is my favorite." (No coaching.)
Me: Caleb, did you know this is called The Bible?
Caleb: (pointing to the cartoon people on the cover) "Yeah, his name Bible...her name Mama...That Jesus...That Cay-ub!!"
(I couldn't correct something so cute...So what if he thinks "Bible" is a guy's name.)

2. "No! Cay-ub NOT want you cut my foot-nay-o's!" (Please don't cut my toenails.)

3. (Puts his hand up) "Wight be back...K?" (Be right back, okay?)

4. "ohhh...Cay-ub yuv sulstooer, Ava...Ava soooo CeeeeUTE!...Ava good groouul...Ava pal, Cay-ub...(kiss) Sweet dweam, Ava Dayne." (Ohh, Caleb loves his sister, Ava. Ava's sooo cute! Ava's a good girl. Ava's pal, Caleb. Sweet dreams, Ava Jayne.)
(So cute...yet this is all after "boop"ing her forehead, tummy & cheeks with his finger, "rocking" her (aka: nearly tossing her out) of the swing, and steam-rolling over her several times.)

5. (As he throws his blanky on me) "I catch you! Say 'MOO', cow!"
(I'm not offended.)

6. "Oh. I hoot my bah-yum, Mama...kiss it." (Oh- I hurt my bottom, Mama...kiss it.)
(kiss it?)

7. "I make a cwap fo Gwamma pweeze?"
(Huh?)
(Did he just say cwap? Oh man...I knew I needed to stop saying that! Now what am I going to do...)
Me: "A...A cwap, Caleb?"
Caleb: "Yeah- make cwap fo Gwamma...pwee pwee cwap."
Me: "Ohhh! (whew.) A pretty, pretty craft??"
Caleb: "Yeah, Mama. Make pwee cwap fo Gwamma pweeze."

8. "I wipe Ava teets." (Again...Huh?) "Teets, Mama...yike dis!"
(Ohh- cheeks!) Sure, go ahead and wipe her face. (Whew.)

9. (As he's trying to go to sleep, I hear him in his room...) "One-sa-time. Boy name Cay-ub. Yuv pway dwums. Pway Pway Pway. Soo tye-oed. Dee end." (Translation: Once upon a time there was a boy named Caleb who loved to play drums. He played and played and played until he was soo tired. The End.)
(He told 3 similar stories about BJ, Baby Bop & Barney and their individual instruments. Then he fell asleep.) We tell lots of stories, but he completely made these up on his own.

With such cute language, I am tempted to completely stifle his growth and not teach him proper English.

Smarty

While reading Put Me in the Zoo (for the 356,000th time), I point out the sign in the picture that says "Z-O-O". And then I underline it with my finger and say "Zoo!" There are a bunch of these little "zoo" signs on the pages, so I continue to do this. He picks up new ideas pretty quickly, so I thought there was no way he wasn't going to get this. I was picturing his brain growing exponentially. We'd soon have to apply to one of those "special" private schools that only genius's could get into (did I spell genius right?) Anyways...my kid was about to break some kind of reading record, and I could just see his name in lights. So I did my example one more time for him as I pointed to each letter. "Z-O-O", "Zoo!" Here it came- I saw his wheels turning. He points to the sign... wait for it, wait for it:
"O-O-O-O-Z-....DOGGIE!!"
He was so proud.
Maybe next time.

Think Happy Thoughts

The word "blog" is perfect. It definitely sounds like the noise I make when I'm trying to say a bunch of stuff at once: "Bloooogg!". Here goes...

1. Ava will not take a bottle or a binky...at all. There is NO way for anyone but me to comfort her. I will never be social again. I can feel a shell forming over my back that will become my new home as I morph into a hermet crab.

2. I am a spoiled brat these days with dishes. After 4 years of living with out a dishwasher (and being completely fine), 4 MONTHS into having one, it breaks. (*insert appalled voice here*) You mean I have to wash a dish?!!

3. Caleb crosses his arms, makes a "hmm" sound and pouts like a teenager...and so it begins.

4. I have laundry in the sink ("soaking"...and now growing things on it probably) and laundry in the bath tub (well, actually Caleb pulled a perfectly clean bath towel in the tub with him 3 (yes 3) days ago & I haven't washed it...or him for that matter.)

5. I made bacon and french toast this morning and made my bacon wavy before putting it into the microwave so I could feel "cool". You know, like the food network people.

6. My nail polish is peeling. Do I have time to use my thoughtful mothers day spa gift card to get a mani or pedi? Are you kidding? Ava would starve & then scream until she turned blue & steam came out of her ears.

And breathe 2, 3, 4.

7. I went grocery shopping and bought a ton of healthy food...but somehow I have eaten almost an entire cake by myself (that I made at 11pm...ah-hem...for friends), several cookies that I found hiding, and a bunch of chips that I didn't even know were in my pantry.

8. I'm beginning to notice that I think the way an author would write a novel. For example: I notice that there is only one piece of cheese left in the fridge. But my exact thoughts are: "She opened the fridge and saw the lonely cheese. It was then that she realized...this would be the last piece."

Oh man- did I really just share that last one? What can I say- I'm not normal.

Well, it's true. Blogging is good for the soul. Think I'll go do some laundry and wash some dishes. (or eat some cookies and watch some food network)

Laundry Loser

I love doing laundry. It gives a sense of accomplishment that few things can measure up to. There is nothing like opening up your closet to find neatly hung clothes all lined up in a row (according to season and color). Before we moved, I had the best laundry routine ever. Sunday was laundry day...I'd have hangers in the laundry room just waiting for the clothes to come out of the dryer...I'd fold and hang and hang and fold...until there was not ONE dirty article of clothing to be found...Ahhh- the good old days.

So how could I become such a LAUNDRY LOSER??
I could come up with at least 50 reasons why I am behind on my laundry, but even I am sick of excuses.

Before I completely bash myself, I'm going to give myself a few gold stars:
1. hold on...let me think of something... Oh! I cooked very healthy dinners this week. (gold star for me)
2. I grocery shopped with 2 kids at 2 stores in less than 2 hours! (and got a TON of stuff) (2 gold stars for this)
3. I cleaned & vacuumed the house (major gold star)

On to the bashing...

Here are the top ten ways to know if you're a laundry loser:

10. You have nightmares about the washer and dryer. (I really did.)
9. Your sweet baby girl is swaddled at night in a blanket covered in snot & bugars.
8. You go on a hot date with your husband in jeans that have your 2 year old's pee on them (hey- they were dark.)
7. You hear strange noises (i.e. growling) coming from your husband while he searches for something to wear in the morning.
6. Your baby is 4 months old, and you still have maternity clothes at the bottom of your hamper. (sad but true)
5. Your laundry heaps do not get smaller as you do load after load...they only spread out...all over the house.
4. You re-wash one load of laundry 3 times because the clothes have gotten mildewed from sitting so long in the washer.
3.The load of clean clothes taken out of the dryer gets mixed in with the dirty piles, and now...oh no...you can't tell the difference.
2. You get spit-up on your shirt every day, but since it blends in very nicely, and you're the only one who can smell it, you don't bother changing it.

And the #1 way to know if you're a laundry loser:
1. Your pillow case still smells like a campfire from the camping trip you took a month ago. (I'm so ashamed.)

Charlotte, Bob & Freddie

Lately our house has become the main attraction for various living creatures. We have encountered more spiders than I have ever seen in my life. We have had rats up in our crawl space that I was completely traumatized by. And now, we have flies...very unintelligent flies. I decided I would like to have a conversation with each of them...

Charlotte, oh Charlotte...why do you have so many friends? Please tell them they owe me rent. When I'm sweeping the floor and you see me waving my arms and yelling, it's not because I'm saying hello. When I take a glass out of the cupboard and immediately see you take its place with a string of your sticky web, I am not flattered, I am disgusted. When I am in the shower or going...um...potty, please don't make your appearance. I am incapacitated and cannot chase you. And finally, please don't attempt a bath with my son. Sometimes I don't realize he's serious when he calls out "spider!" and I miss the opportunity of taking your life.

Bob the Rat...where do I begin? When you first made your entrance through the roof of my house, I thought you were a bird getting electrocuted. As I walked outside with my flashlight, expecting to see feathers, I saw your beady eyes instead. I do apologize that my husband set traps that were too small. I'm sure your family is just as traumatized as I am. I know you're a living creature who some kind people would consider a family pet...but please remember that we are not kind...in fact, we will karate chop you in half if we ever find you in our house again.

Freddie...poor little Freddie Fly. You didn't know that the holes in our fence were not big enough to let you through. When you tried to fly through, you didn't know that your body would get stuck half way and that we wouldn't help you out. I suggest you also stay clear of my kitchen. You might have heard the rumors of my karate chopping skills.

I have always been an ultra-sensitive, creature-loving girl...raising mice as pets and taking bugs outside instead of to the trash. But my skin has grown thick, & my heart is now only soft for humans...too bad for Charlotte, Bob & Freddie.

Enjoying the Ordinary

Aside from Caleb completely melting my heart on a daily basis, he impresses me with his willingness to enjoy his life. One of my favorite things about him is that he stops to soak things in. Yes he's only 2, and he is as active as ever, but every so often throughout the day he chooses to stop what he's doing, look around and comment on how much fun he is having ("I having fun!" "This a fun game!" "This a fun day!"). He'll simply look around and observe that the whole family is eating "together" or swimming "together" or in the car "together". Or he will suddenly stop his wild game of chase to give a huge hug and say, "I Yuv you soo much, Mama (or Daddy or Ava)". My heart overflows so many times every day.

Tim & I have found ourselves following Caleb's lead by enjoying certain things that, well, might be less than enjoyable to anyone else.

A few examples: 1. Yesterday morning I walked into Caleb's room to smell and see some matter on the floor that I will not go into detail about. What can I say- he's learning to potty train, and he's learning to not "yike" it in his diaper anymore. I most definitely did not "enjoy" this moment at first. In fact my first 5 second reaction was "Oh Caleb!" However, as I cleaned and listened to his joyful chatter, I was simply reminded of how thankful I was for this little guy and how short this young time will be.

2. In the last week, Caleb has demonstrated some kind of "fear" of going to bed. His excuses are innumerable...and hilarious at times. He usually begins with "gotta go poopoo, Mama". We go. "I hungry, Mama." I think to myself-'you should've eaten dinner then.' and ignore the request. He points out the "alligator" in the room. I try to explain shadows in the most simplest way and finally assure him the alligator is gone. "I need meh-i-cine, Mama." Well, honey, you're not sick. When I finally put him in his bed last night, he really REALLY begged for Daddy. Okay- battle won. Daaaaaddy- please come in here. This is where the enjoyment began...

Tim & I both decided to lay down next to his bed. Lights were out & Tim began telling him stories. Suddenly Caleb sits up in bed and whispers, "Story of the yi-yon (lion) peeze Daddy". So Tim begins telling his favorite story in the most calming, loving way possible. Finally Caleb drifts off to sleep, happy and hopefully feeling more secure.

Tim wrapped it up in one sentence when we came out, "I was annoyed at first and just wanted to get out of there to go relax & watch tv...until I realized what a privelege it is to be able to take care of my son that way."

3. I've always thought it was rather morbid to cheer as a fire truck or police car zooms by with their lights and sirens blaring. I know it's exciting, but it usually means someone is in some kind of danger, including the fire fighters and police officers. So Tim told me about a family who prays every time they see or hear fire trucks or police cars go by, and we've done the same a few times. Today I was sitting with Caleb at Chick-fil-A (yum), and we saw a fire fighter go over to talk with a girl. As he left, I was telling Caleb that he was a fire fighter and it is his job to help keep us safe. He looked at me, half-closed his eyes, folded his hands, and said "Mama! Mama! Pway fo fire fighter." As I looked at his crinkled eyebrows with his eyes shut tight, I've never enjoyed praying so much.

The title for this blog was going to be "Enjoying the Ordinary". But I have realized these "ordinary" things are anything but ordinary. These are the EXTRAordinary moments that make a simple life more.

In the Beginning

When I first began to read peoples' blogs, I felt like nothing less than a stalker. I would run into them in person and kind of freeze like a deer in headlights: "umm- what? No, I didn't know that about you (i just read it in your blog!)...no, I haven't been stalking your every post and no I don't feel like I am now your best friend!" I felt like such a weirdo.

I've completely analyzed the world of blogs, though, and I've decided it's a wonderful world not to be missed out on.

I think blogs are specifically for nosey people. And I mean that in the best way possible. The reason this new social networking trend (ie Facebook, Twitter & blogs) is working out so well is because we're in a world full of nosey people! We want to know what other peoples' lives are like, and we want to look into peoples' windows or be a fly on their wall...or at least I do.

In my opinion, this is who we were designed to be.

Your first impression of my blog might be strange, but I do have explanations.

I think we were designed with a nosey gene so that we would CARE about other peoples' lives. This is crucial to existence. We need to share in peoples' joys and sorrows. Remember that movie (or book) "Into the Wild"? At the end, after being alone for so long and experiencing so much alone, he writes in his journal, "Happiness only real when shared." Poor guy. He didn't realize it until it was too late.

I am starting this blog for mostly 2 reasons. 1. To document our family growing and changing- it's one of my favorite things to do. 2. To share our memories, funny stories, & thoughts with others so the joy will be doubled.

Thanks for visiting me! I hope you'll continue to be nosey!