He warned us, we just didn't listen

You know how Oprah is always saying, "The first sign is like a whisper, then if you don't listen, the next sign is louder until finally you get a smack upside the head?"  (that's probably almost a direct quote.) The first year of Boy 2's life was kind of like that, but with yelling (him, mostly, not me) instead of whispers. The signs of a "strong willed personality" were all there.  Let's do a Wordless Wednesday, but with words, and I will post it on Thursday, because that is Boy 2's birthday. So not really a Wordless Wednesday, just a Thursday.  Yes it is confusing. That's not the point.  The point is, Happy Birthday Boy 2! 

Day 1 - "I am going to scream my face off
until I can walk"





Day 18 - "I am going to scream my face off until
they take off this ridiculous costume."





Day 30 - "I am going to scream my face off until

they take off this stupid hat, and I can walk"



Day 45 - "I need to come up with a new plan"

Day 130 - "I know - I'm gonna bite this guy until I can walk"



Day 210 - "Seriously?  I warned them about the hat thing.

Look at my head.  They gotta be screwing with me.

Wait until I can walk"



Day 230 - "I'll bite this guy some more.
It'll pass the time until I can walk."

Day 245 - "Maybe slapping him will work. He seems to like it.
Why am I still not walking?"





Day 365 - "Hey, hey! I got it, I got it!
It is all over for you Mom."

All the signs were there, early on.  That's why I shouldn't be surprised by things like this:

Day 2917 - now for something new.

Sorry, very poor picture quality because I was laying on the floor to get this shot.  Yes, I was on the floor, below him.  Still not seeing it?  Look where his hands are.  Those are the tops of the door frames. Don't feel bad, I couldn't believe what I was seeing either, the first time.  Here is a picture of me taking the picture to clear it up:



I guess, if you are Boy 2, once you are 8 you aren't happy with walking on the ground anymore, you need more challenge, like walking on the walls to the ceiling.  When normal people say their kids were climbing the walls, I think they usually mean it figuratively.  I don't. He is actually climbing the walls.

Appropriate that the child was born on Thanksgiving - every year on his birthday I thank God that we have both survived another year.



Well Played Boy 2, Well Played

This was the conversation in the backseat of my car after Boy 1 solved his friend L's riddle too quickly for Boy 2 to have a guess. Boy 2 started getting angry and Master Mediator L stepped in:

L:  It's okay, here's another one for you, what flies but doesn't have wings?

Boy 2: A flying lizard!

L: No...well...yes...but that's not it.

Boy 2: (rapid-fire now, no one is getting a word in until he solves this baby) My farts.

L: no...well...maybe but keep guessing. (I love this friend, he is so patient with Boy 2.)

Boy 2: Superman.

L: Umm, yeah(starting to frown) but that's not it either. It starts with a t---

Boy 2: (even faster) pterodactyl-tree-ten-gurgantulolo

L: no, no, no and is that even a word? It starts with t, not g, - It has to do with a clock

Boy 2: A watch with no arms!

L: What?

So, to summarize, a watch with no arms sure flies when you are having fun. And, I think if you can frustrate the riddle teller into quitting, you win, whether you solve the riddle or not.

Gurgantulolo. (let's pretend it means "you win, goodbye")

Parenting Scares for Rookies

I just read this article from Today's Parent magazine:  http://www.todaysparent.com/6 parenting scares .

Hilarious!  In a not intentionally funny way.  All this time I had been thinking I must not handle stress well as I tumble down the wrong side of the nervous breakdown spectrum.  Turns out we are NOT normal. If you don't feel like reading the actual article, according to Today's Parent normal parenting scares are:

1. Baby swallows penny.
2. Toddler eats dog food.
3. Your preschooler writes on the couch with a permanent marker.
4. Your first grader stuck a peanut in his ear.
5. Your eight-year old glues his fingers together with Crazy glue.
6. Your ten year old got gum in her hair.

How it goes down in the MacFuddle house:

1. Toddler swallows six metal marbles from his brother's magnetic building kit.  Intern in the emergency room actually gasps when she views X-Rays.  I suggest she may want to tone down the gasping in shock around the average nervous parents.  Probably okay around damaged, beaten-down parent like me, but you never know. In case you are wondering, as long as the marbles aren't actually magnetic, and they are smaller than a penny, they will pass. And, no, the sitter will not check the diaper and keep a running tally of the marbles.
2. ?? I don't get it.  Was there not enough food left over for the dog? That is a pet owner issue, not a parenting scare.
3. At the MacFuddle house, most items, including walls, clothes, furniture, are "labeled". My advice is to let them turn the drawing into a mural to show their classmates.  It will seem like homework and they will quit doing it.  True Story. But, again, not a true parenting scare.
4. Eighteen month old sticks so many unpopped popcorn kernels into his left nostril that kernels start coming out his mouth.  I worry that he could actually be touching his brain with popcorn kernels so I rush him to the emergency room.  They still have our file out from discharging us only hours before.  (Probably need a whole post to describe that incident.)  Doctors have really long tweezers. They say no big deal, but I would still like to see a CT scan of the child's brain to check for popcorn.  To this day I don't let him get overheated.  Think about it.
5. Today's Parent, are you spying on us?  This just happened last week.  Boy 2 glued his fingers together out on the deck so that it looked like he was giving the A-okay sign.  I didn't want him in the house until I was sure the glue was dry so I kept saying how are you doing out there?  And he would give me the A-okay sign.  Oh, and if it is a large amount of glue, nail polish remover will take that right off.  Don't even worry about that.  Unless they have glued a piece of their body that shouldn't have nail polish remover on it.  Then you have a real problem. Call somebody.
6. You guys aren't even trying now.  Gum in kid's hair is called Saturday.  Gum in hair is likely to happen anytime you have gum and a child in the same home.  Isn't it?  Don't you just use the kitchen scissors to chop it out and get on with your day?  Maybe that's just when you have boys.

In the last 24 hours alone I heard in my house: "Here goes nothing!" and "Hey Mom, look I am on the roof!" I was wishing for crazy glue and gum. But, weirdly, I feel better. It's them, not me. 

Puke Day

Boy 2 has been complaining of a tummy ache ever since school started.  It started on the first day of school, but almost everyone in our house vomited, so I wasn't really concerned.  First the dog barfed in the middle of the kitchen floor.  We all noticed at the same time as he ran away in doggie shame. PDH yelled "Gross" and ran down the stairs.  I said, "Could be worse, this is only dog food. We should just leave it until he cleans it up himself.  I know a dog that eats cat poop then pukes on the front mat."  Boy 1 turned green and ran away and I could hear gagging from down the stairs in PHD's direction.  I had to clean up the dog barf but the good news is I got a few minutes of quiet to read the paper when I was done. 

That same day Boy 2 threw up on the bus on the way home, just before they reached our house.  I wasn't sure of the protocol, maybe someone can enlighten me.  The bus parked in front of our house for quite some time after the boys came in the house.  I wondered if Mrs. Bus Driver was waiting for me to come clean it.  So I waited a few more minutes then went out and offered to help as Mrs. Bus Driver was finishing up.  She said she had it under control but she noted,  "It looks like he was eating apples."  She seemed offended by the apples more than the puke. Odd. I didn't think she would appreciate my "could be worse it could be regurgitated cat poop" philosophy so I kept it to myself. 

Anyway, two weeks later, Boy 2 is still complaining off and on about a tummy ache.  Finally I take him to see the doctor.  Boy 1 tried to negotiate me leaving him at home with the iPhone. When that didn't fly, he agreed to come along but be angry about it.  It all came to a head in the examining room just before the doctor came in.  Boy 1 gave Boy 2 a shove, Boy 2 tried simultaneously tattling and punching Boy 1 in the gonads.

Boy 1, "Stop it, you're such an idiot."
Boy 2, "Whaaaat?  I can't hear you."
Boy 1, "I said, Sto---"
Boy 2, "Whaaaat?  I can't hear you."
Boy 1, "STOP---"
Boy 2: "Whaaat?? Still can't hear you. Are you still talking?"
Boy 1, "WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP EATING ACORNS OFF THE GROUND AND YOU WOULDN'T HAVE A STOMACHE-ACHE."
Boy 2:  "They weren't acorns, they were hazelnuts, I looked them up in a book in the library. 
Me:  "You were eating acorns?  Off the ground?"
Boy 2: "NOT acorns, hazelnuts."  Like I am the dummy.

I tried to explain to him that he shouldn't eat things off the ground at school, it could be making him sick, he doesn't know what it is, etc.  There was no talking him out of it.  He looked them up in a library book, so it's all good.  

The doctor then came in the room and confirmed that there are hazelnuts growing in the city.  So I guess Boy 2 has the all-clear to eat more acorns or hazelnuts off the ground. 

Now I have a tummy ache...

Mouse Update

Last week we met Fuzzy McSmally McCheezy . Everyone keeps asking, "How's the mouse?" so a brief update is in order.

When PHD came home to meet the mouse that night, it was agreed that Fuzzy should be released into the wild where he would live a happy mouse existence away from my house.  I also was worried about what would happen to the child's psyche when the mouse met his inevitable demise.  So, Boy 2 fed Fuzzy some grated cheese to sustain him on his journey and took him to the park.  Our conversation upon his return went like this:

Me:  Did you let him go?

Boy 2:  Yup.  I think he was half dead anyway.

Me (surprised): Oh!  Why do you think that?

Boy 2 (annoyed with Fuzzy):  Well when he got off the merry-go-around he layed on his back for a while then just ran into the bushes.

Poor Dizzy Fuzzy...

And that's why I am an excellent wife

For some stupid reason, possibly a combination of a solid marketing strategy and slight peer pressure, I signed up for a bootcamp twice a week.  (Screw you Groupon.  No, wait I didn't mean it Groupon, I am displacing my anger.  I actually love you.) So, for the month of August, on Tuesday and Thursday nights I drag my sorry butt to bootcamp at 7 pm. On the nights that I can't think up a good enough excuse to skip out. Because I don't like to vomit, I usually eat dinner when I return from bootcamp. 

On Tuesday I cooked a beautiful chicken dinner in the crockpot.  It took every ounce of my willpower to leave the house for bootcamp that night.  As the skinny little troll of an instructor (who is young enough to be my daughter, also not helpful) devised various forms of abuse for an hour, I thought about that chicken waiting for me. I also thought a lot about how stupid bootcamp is. Mostly about chicken, though.

I return from bootcamp mouth watering, looking forward to that chicken like no meal ever before. I arrive to a big mess in the kitchen, nothing new, and open the lid of the crockpot.  No chicken.  Some spicy tomatoes, but no chicken.  That can't be right.  Look again.  Stir it around.  Still no chicken.  They ate all the chicken and didn't leave me any...At least they put the lid back on to keep the empty crockpot warm...In frustration I scream "OH MY GOD!".  PHD assumes the kids have done something so says, "What?", giving away his location.  I charge down to the office and say, "The chicken is all gone."  He says, "Oh, you didn't get any?"  "No.  I.  Did.  Not..."  He starts laughing.  Laughing.  I, being an excellent wife, didn't call him an asshat.  I also didn't stab him in the eye with a fork but that was only because all the forks were dirty from them eating all my chicken.  And, I can't stab someone in the eye with a dirty fork. That would be unsanitary.  Still, the point is, I didn't call him an asshat.  Good job Me.

I just looked up Asshat in Wikipedia. The definition has gone missing. Probably a defensive move on the part of a husband somewhere. (You can't call me that, it's not even a word.) It used to be defined on Wikipedia as "a slightly trendier and less severe variation of asshole, graphically describing someone who has his “head up his own ass” (i.e., not knowing what’s going on): one is wearing one’s ass for a hat."  I can remember this no-longer-existing/pretend definition of asshat but I can't remember my own cell phone number about 93% of the time.  Good job Me. 

What's Mom freaking out about?

I will tell you what I am freaking out about:  

I didn't think they were ready for that diving board until they were 18, they didn't agree.

I can so fly. (Pic by Carlene, famous food blogger)



This was while my mom was babysitting - she taught them how to hammer caps, you know, the ones that are filled with GUNPOWDER.  C'mon, Grandma, work with me here!




Monkey Bars - 1, Boy 2 - 0, but it's not over...

And today's excitement:

Look Mom, I caught a mouse!

I literally shrieked.  Not like when people say, "I literally had a heart attack" when they mean "I figuratively had a heart attack."  I literally shrieked.  How terrific - I have my own mouser, without the bother of a litter box. He couldn't fathom why I wasn't allowing his new friend in the front door. What I didn't mention was that I had actually locked both of them out until I could figure out how to sanitize the kid.  Our own weird little hostage situation.  Childhood memories being made right there on the front step.  I finally came up with a foolproof plan.  I gave Boy 1 a bucket with a lid for our new friend (christened Fuzzy McSmally McCheezy in case you were curious) and then let Boy 2 in the house.  I made him agree to hold his hands together like he was praying and march slowly to the bathroom.  That way all the invisible rodent bacteria would be trapped between his little hands until he got to the bathroom sink where I made him scrub long enough to give him OCD. I told you - foolproof. And really scientific.

That's how you survive these children folks.  Science works.