Sneetch and Song

We have a bedtime ritual for Connor because it seems the only thing we can do to convince him that it’s actually bedtime. Bedtime as opposed to a climb out the crib fest. Generally Jorma puts Connor to bed and I put Tristan down. I’m not sure how we managed to do it with the chaos that is our life but we’ve gotten both to the boys go to bed at the same time. Tonight, was Jorma’s boys night out so I put Connor to bed.
After brushing teeth and sitting on the potty we always read a book. Tonight we started with Cat in the Hat, about three pages in Connor decided that we had to read about the Star Bellied Sneetches instead. This is a bedtime ploy that he uses to extend the reading time of a book. He figures, if he just hands you a book once you get about halfway through and repeats with all 20 of the books next to his night time reading chair that you’ll fall asleep before he does. And then he would be free to run through the house playing in the toilets and throwing handfuls of cat food down the stairs.
And he’s SO convincing. We MUST read the SNEETCHS. NOW. Then in a wailing cry he starts saying, “SNEEEETCHS!” Until you are finally so wowed that your very own kid likes a book that much that you say, ok. Sneetchs.
Now I personally like the Sneetchs story and I’m always happy to read it. So I was a little bit put off when it was suggested three pages later that “I DO NOT LIKE DE SNEETCHS!!!” and Perky the Fish was requested. When I refused Perky he tried with 10 Little Animals and then Dora, explaining to me, “This one, Mommy! This one!”, but I, already beaten for the night, decided that maybe it was just time for bed. Because maybe Connor wasn’t tired. But Mommy sure was.

 

Just Say No

Jorma comes downstairs after going up to try to talk Connor out of screaming after being put in bed for the night and walks into the kitchen to make a sippy cup of ice water.

 

“This is my side of the conversation with Connor. No. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. OK.”

 

 

How He Pays His Rent

Barefoot in the Garden
Originally uploaded by Dewchild.

Speaking of Eliminating People from the Gene Pool

The problem with the girl going on a hunger strike until Sanjaya gets kicked off American Idol is, first, she needs a life, but secondly this pre-teen panty melter might just go another week on the show. If for no other reason, because it makes people like Big Dave, vote for Sanjaya just to eliminate someone that as he says, "Is stupid enough to go on a hunger strike over American Idol" from the gene pool.

Dear Connor - 29 Months

Dear Connor,

Some nights for entertainment, your Dad and I will sit back and listen to you chatter on the baby monitor after we’ve put you and your brother to bed. The chatter fluctuates from yelling for one of us, babbling absentmindedly about something that happened during the day to singing a song. You have several serenades in your repertoire, including what I like to call, The Twinkle-Spider Remix. It starts out with the first line of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and then moves to the second line of Itsy Bitsy Spider, then bounces around, like maybe you had too many Cosmopolitans before hitting the turntable. When you call for one of us, you start with Daddy. After yelling Daddy a few times, you switch it up a little and start yelling, “JOOOORMA”. I find this most amusing, but your Dad… not so much. Once you’ve given up on Daddy, you switch over to me. After a few fake coughs and MOOMEE’s you stop for a minute and say in your very best, sweet little puppy dog voice, “mama?... mama?” And sometimes it even works.

The Brotherhood is coming along nicely. You seem to genuinely enjoy playing with your brother and the site of the two of you laughing makes us laugh too. Tristan watches you constantly and sometimes he cries when you walk away. You want to know where he is at all times and if he’s sleeping, you will ask if he’s sleeping every 20 minutes just to be sure.

Tonight while I was upstairs folding 200 of the 700lbs of laundry I do each week, your Dad said you came up to him and asked, “Where did my shoes go? I need my shoes.”. When he asked you want you wanted your shoes for you replied, “Nothing” and wandered off. A few minutes later you came back into the kitchen with your shoes on and crawled up on the window sill that goes to the screened porch. From there you proceeded to climb THROUGH the window because you wanted to go outside. And while you know you aren’t allowed to climb through windows, you also know that you are not allowed to go outside without your shoes on. This is the reason that we have child-proof locks on every single thing in the house that will take one and gates at every angle. Because if you had access to it, you would walk right out the front door and begin helping yourself to all of the toys in our neighbors garage. You see, not only are you two years old… but also, determined, smart, independent and easily bored. Oh how I can’t wait for the teen years.

You’ve also started remembering things that happened weeks or months ago and randomly bringing them up. Like the time that you fell down and hurt your knee when we were at the beach, 2 months ago. Or asking me in the car on the way home from preschool this week, “Where did Santa go?” You listen intently as I explain Summer, Fall, Winter and Christmas time. I laid off on the gradual change of Christmas from a Pagan celebration to a Christian holiday lecture; I figure I’ll save that one until you are three. But with the long-er term memory, you are gaining other skills. Like being able to count and identify any color. You can work simple puzzles as long as you are willing to sit still for five minutes. You’ve started using pronouns correctly so you don’t sound so much like Elmo when you are talking. For a while we were really torn between proper pronoun usage and how adorable it is when “Connor needs a cookie”. Eventually you figured it out on your own and now patrol the house pointing our what it mine, yours or ours.

You still aren’t really into toys yet, preferring your new yellow rain boots and a stethoscope that came with your Diego Rescue Animal Kit that Santa brought to you. You bring it up to me and say, “Mom-MEE? Can I listen to your heart-beep?” You hold the stethoscope over my heart and say, “Fump-Fump. Fump-Fump”, then back away looking thoughtful. I know I should tell you it’s actually heart-BEAT instead of Beep, but it’s so cute I just can’t bring myself to do it. But I let you listen again and again, because what your plastic stethoscope won’t tell you is that before I met your Dad, that heart of mine, it was starting to get a little bit black and shriveled, but now it’s happily fump-fumping away.
Love,

Mama

Dear Husband

Dear Husband,
Industrial Strength Craft Glue is NOT an oxymoron. So there. Now the whole world knows it too.

Love,
Your Crafty Wife

Ab Fab

When we didn’t know if we would be having a boy or a girl, we decided that if we did have a girl, that we would not enforce gender rolls. Meaning, we weren’t going to push her into pink and Disney Princesses unless that’s what she wanted. We weren’t going to make her toys kitchens and babies but allow trucks and blocks and all sorts of toys. So it was only fair when we had a boy to also encourage all types of play. Even if it was baby dolls and a kitchen. As my Mom says, “We can all learn to nurture” so we don’t mind if Connor plays with one of the baby dolls that we bought him after we had Tristan, so he would have a baby too. And for the same reason, it’s difficult to discourage the clothing obsession that he has right now.
I guess I can’t blame him for wanting to change 5 times a day and being obsessed with new clothes. Clothes are a big deal. We put them on everyday and there are a lot of rules that go with them. Like not taking them off in Target. Like not taking Mommy’s off in Target. Like not being able to wear a tank top when it’s cold outside, even though it feels warm inside. Like not being able to dig through the dirty laundry and put on the t-shirt covered with spaghetti from dinner last night. Like having special ones that we sleep in.
On Friday I was lucky enough to get to go to the early shop at UMC, where Connor goes to school. I bought most of his summer wardrobe, a toy shopping cart, an airplane, a puzzle and a pair of yellow rubber boots. You see we had gone to the Arbor Day Celebration at the Matthews Community Center with the MOMS Club, because that was the service project that I had planned for the month. During the activities, Connor found another child’s yellow rubber boots and had a fit over them. So when I saw the same exact kind at the consignment sale for three dollars, it was sort of a no-brainer. I thought for sure that he would be so into the toys that I picked for him, but instead, his new favorite thing is his yellow boots. Which he wants to wear everywhere and even put to bed last night, before going up to bed himself. He puts them on and says, “Are these cute Mommy?” as he parades around the room. “Yes, Baby”, I tell him, “Those ARE cute. And they look so fabulous with that purple tank top.”

 

Just Plain Wrong

Dear Husband,
Sprinkling Fiber One on your ice cream is just plain wrong. Even if you are on a health kick.
Love,
Me

Dear Tristan - 6 Months

Dear Tristan,
Most children cut their first teeth around 3 months. Because your father and I produce some sort of vampire-hybrid children, both you and your brother cut teeth at three months. You already have the two bottom ones in completely and now are cutting 6 more teeth… at once. And now, no one sleeps through the night.

We went for your six month check up the other day and after counting your incoming teeth the Dr. said, “1-2-3-4-5-6. Wow! Mommy needs Tylenol with Codeine. Is anyone sleeping at your house?” At that moment, I could have sworn I saw a golden halo and tiny little fairies dancing around her head.
At the same visit you weighed in at 17lbs, and hit the 55% for head circumference and 79% for height and were pronounced, beautiful, healthy and strong. You cried for about 5 seconds after your shots were done and then stopped to gaze at the painting of a cat on the wall.

You’ve also determined that it’s more comfortable to sleep on your side or your tummy. I can’t blame you there, I don’t like to sleep on my back either, although that is the position that I assume when you’ve cajoled your way into the bed at 3am so that you can sleep on my arm. The problem with this is that when you sleep on your tummy you automatically push up when you come close to waking. This means that you wake yourself up, lifting yourself off of the crib, which seems to be quite scary. I reposition you on your side, you fall back asleep and then fifteen minutes later are pushing up again. Did I mention that we are sleep deprived around here? Learning to sleep takes time. But don’t worry, if you have even the slightest bit of my genetic make up… soon you’ll be really good at it.
You’ve now experienced sweet peas, green beans, sweet potatoes and applesauce. You’ve also had a goldfish cracker, (thank your brother for that), but never got to actually swallow it because Daddy fished it out of your mouth before you could fully ingest it. Some nights you still like a 2am snack, but mostly you sleep until 6am, (except for the past two weeks) and then can be coerced into going back to sleep until 8am.
Any second now you will begin crawling… but it looks like you are going to be a great swimmer so far. If they made a pedometer that you could use while swimming, (swimometer???) I’d buy one and put it on you to check your mileage at the end of the day. You are busy, busy. You are able to get completely up on your knees hang out for a second but then you fall over. And the falling over part… it doesn’t bother you in the least.
You have the 360 down too. You pivot on your belly stopping each 45 degrees to see if there is anything interesting. Anything that you might be able to grab. And put in your mouth.

You brother has taken it upon himself to be your personal interpreter. Sometimes when you start crying he comes over to me and demands, “MOMMY! Feed Tristan.” Or my personal favorite, “mom-EEE! Tristan is cry-ING”, over and over and over while I make your bottle. The other day you were crying in the car and he looked over and said, “It’s ok Tristan. It’s ok” over and over. You actually calmed down a little bit and I suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy. It was the first time I realized that you and your brother… you might actually love each other. Maybe even as much as we do.
Happy Half Birthday Baby.
Love,
Mommy

Go Jorma, Go! Oh.

Today Jorma began the day racking up major points. Although his back was hurting him, he folded and put away 4 loads of laundry, washed another three, opened all the windows to air out the house and cleaned up our bedroom. By himself. Without being bribed. I was totally set to write this blog tonight about how awesome he is, but he did the unthinkable. He tried to pass off a turkey burger as ground beef.
You see, I’m kinda funny about meat. I don’t like it to squirt when I bite into it, bleed or smell odd. I don’t like strange textures. I think eating snails is absolutely ridiculous.
I’ve had frog legs, bear, turtle and other strange things, but I just can’t be comfortable with ground turkey. And as soon as I took a bite, I was greatly concerned. The meat was too soft, squishy even. It had kind of a familiar funk about it. The funk was just a tiny wisp of flavor drowned out by garlic and powered Ranch dressing mix. I looked at it. It was that, “been hosed off of the floor and compressed into meat-like rolls” color of grey. I stopped burger in hand and looked at him accusingly. Is THIS ground turkey? He shrugged and said. “Maybe”. I was disheartened. I resigned myself to picking off the mushrooms, Swiss cheese and guacamole and leaving the burger laying on the plate. The nerve. I guess the laundry and cleaning give him a break even… maybe even a few extra brownie points, but tomorrow night, I’ll make the burgers.

Cranberry Chicken - A Review

When I was talking to Pattie the other night, (before remoting into her system and fixing her email) she said she had found a really great recipe for Cranberry Chicken. This is how she explained the recipe to me.

“I’m going to tell you what’s in it. And I don’t want you to say anything. I just want you to stop for a second. Think about it. Digest it. And then tell me what you think. It’s a bottle of Catalina (8oz) dressing, a can of whole cranberry, cranberry sauce and a packet of dry Onion Soup Mix. Poured over baked chicken.”
I couldn’t fathom it. “Tell me again”, I said. She did. It sounded crazy. But she said it was delicious.
Being one to try anything that only has three ingredients and minimal prep, we tried it. And it wasn’t bad. Not at all. It was a little bit strong on the onion and not something that I would serve at a dinner party… but for a Thursday night, oh crap, what are we doing for dinner… it was damn good.
I actually Googled the recipe before we made it and found a similar recipe that uses the onion soup mix, a jar of apricot preserves and Catalina dressing that sounded even better, but we’ll have to save that one for another night. Maybe a Wednesday.
If you are feeling brave, here is the recipe.

1 can of Whole Cranberry, Cranberry Sauce
8 oz of Catalina dressing
1 Packet of dry Onion Soup Mix

Mix ingredients together and lay 4-6 breasts of chicken in a glass baking dish, (that has been first sprayed with non stick cooking spray… or you could get a little crazy and use butter)
Dump sauce over the top. Bake uncovered at 350 for an hour or until you get that feeling that if you don’t take it out RIGHT NOW you might have to order pizza. Email me to let me know what you thought.

Where the Word Bad-Ass Isn't Appropriate

Me to Jorma:
"OK, I just accidently hit the delay start button on the washing machine with my elbow and it's a timer. You can set it for the laundry to start at 7am and set it up before you go to bed. That is BADASS!"

Jorma to Me:
"Wow. You're old."

It's Family Night and We're Feelin Right

Tonight was family night at Connor’s pre-school and the whole family went. Everyone else’s whole family went too, evidenced by the traffic jammed hallways and sno-cone line 30 people deep. But we had fun. They had blow up bouncy house and a bouncy climb –n- slide that the kids could go on. We had Connor all pumped up for the climb –n- slide but when he got up to it and heard the air pump on the side, he determined that he was “ALL DONE!” and clung to me so tightly that were my uterus available, he would have climbed back inside.
We moved from there to the book sale, where he pillaged the racks and was carried out crying and from there to the pizza line where he tried to see how many people he could trip by randomly throwing himself on the floor in front of on coming foot traffic. After we ate we headed back to the classroom where we made a donation to purchase his “art” from the gallery. The highlight of his night however, was the walk back to the car with Mommy and Daddy each holding a hand swinging him through the air.

Tristan also had a great time, snuggled down in the front pack facing outward as Daddy toted him around. He had the best seat in the house and was radiating such baby cuteness that women began spontaneous ovulation just by looking at him. Yeah, he really IS that cute.

Why I Haven't Returned Your Phone Call

If you are wondering why I haven't, called you / returned your phone call / fixed your computer / come by to visit or returned your email this is the reason. Click on image to view larger.
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DeepThroat

DeepThroat
Originally uploaded by Dewchild.

This is from the Lazy5 Ranch on Saturday.
I'm attempting to post to my blog from my flickr account. Hopefully the font won't be all screwy but there is only one way to tell.

Making the World a Better Place

The Associated Press has put a ban on Paris Hilton stories. And suddenly the world is a better place.
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