Things kids say

These little boys of mine are an endless source of entertainment for me.  I’m constantly laughing at the things that come out of their mouths.  I think I’m going to look into becoming a kindergarten teacher because if I’m this entertained by what my own kids say, imagine how entertaining it must be to hear other kid's versions of what’s going on in their home. 

Here’s some recent conversations in our home:

CamCam: Mom, I want my blankieeee.

Me: Well, go get it.

Cam: No, I don’t want to go get it.  You go get it.

Me:  CamCam, if you want your blankie, you can go and get it.  I’m not going to get it for you.

Cam: Cause you’re a poopie?

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CamCam shut his thumb in a door.

10 minutes later- Cam: Mom, if I suck my thumb will that make it better?

Me: No, you better not, it might make it hurt.  Suck this thumb instead.

Cam: No, I can’t, that’s the wrong way thumb.

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I thought my boys acted up because of their age.  Now I’m beginning to wonder if it’s entertainment for them.  I’m in the entry putting the three boys shoes on and getting them ready to go to the pediatrician:

Nolie: Hey mom, let’s play a game.

Me: What game?

Nolie: Let’s play a game that we pretend there are 3 people sitting in the back and there’s one person sitting in the front driving and the 3 in the back try to drive her crazy.

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Someone’s developed a lovely three-year old defiant attitude:

Nolie:  Mom, CamCam just hit me and pushed me.

Me:  Cam go up to your room for…

Cam:  NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~

Me:  Cam, please pick up your toys. 

Cam:  Why should I?

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It might be time for a little anatomy lesson:

Me: Where’s the dice?

Nolie: Right there, under your bumps.

Me: My what?

Nolie: Your bumps.

Me: (laughing) Those aren’t called bumps.

Nolie: Well what are they then. 

Me: They’re breasts.

Nolie: Oh.  Well, they look like bumps to me.

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A couple weeks ago when my mom was babysitting them for the weekend, she passed along this story to me.  Nolie and her were throwing a ball back and forth and he was throwing it really hard.

Gickey:  Hey, you don’t want to throw that hard at your grandmother.

Nolie: You’re my grandmother?

Gickey: Yes.

Nolie: Oh?  You don’t look like a grandmother.

Gickey:  Well who did you think I was then?

Nolie:  I thought you were just a really nice lady.

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Look out my back door and Nolie and CamCam are standing around our gas tank.

Me: What are you boys doing?

Cam:  There’s a squirrel trapped under there.  We’re trying to get him out.

Nolie:  Yeah, and then we’re going to hit him with this bat!!!

WW: Pictures from Facebook

 

Think it’s time for his first hair cut yet?

 

Seriously mom?  Do you really think they’ve invented a
baby-proofing knob that can keep me contained?

 

Between the extra large bottles of baby wash being dumped one-per-bath, giant cans shaving cream being sprayed till empty, the 24 pack of handi-snacks being emptied and crushed in the entry, rolls of paper towels being unraveled to get at the “sword” in the middle, and this- I’m beginning to think that shopping at the big warehouse store isn’t worth it. 

 

 

Poker Face

 

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Seven Clown Circus

If you ever watch my kids, you should know. . .

June 22nd The Dada and I celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary.  We are celebrating early, and going away this weekend.  This is HUGE for us, we haven’t been away overnight without kids in years.  To give you an idea how long its been- last time we went away, we only had 2 kids. 

I am fortunate enough to have my mom living close by, and also fortunate enough that she’s agreed to stay at my house for the weekend and watch my fab-five.  In preparation for her arrival, I’ve put together a list for her. 

Dear mom, thank you so much for agreeing to watch the kids this weekend.  Here’s a list of things that may help you out:

• You will want to take a really good shower Thursday evening as there’s a distinct possibility you won’t have a chance to take another until you go home on Sunday. 
  
• When CamCam sees people with crazy hair, he likes to cut it.
  
• “Little Hurricane” no longer asks CamCam to let him out the front door.  He can do this for himself now.
  
• On Thursday I will dust, vacuum, mop, catch up on dishes and catch up on laundry to prepare for your arrival.  On Friday morning it will look like I didn’t do a darn thing.  No real advice here, just a warning.
  
• If you hear the words “puppy walk” come out of CamCam’s mouth, be on alert- this means he’s going to get his stuffed dog and walk to the end of the road by himself. 
  
• Pretzels and Blue’s Clues are a magical combination that produce this effect:

• You may want to bring ear plugs as there will be a LOT of crying/screaming going on.

• When “Little Hurricane” gets mad he spits.  When something doesn’t go his way, he spits.  When someone upsets him, he spits on them.  When he’s looking out the window at his brothers and sister playing without him, he spits. 
  
• No matter how overtired CamCam and Little Hurricane are, they will refuse to nap.
  
• Noise is good.  If it’s quiet, investigate.
  
• My little boys love to use sweeping “you never” statements to get you to do things for them.  “You never cut me up an apple.  You never let me play outside.  You never let me do the wii.  You never feed me lunch.  You never play with me.” 
  
• My kitchen sink always looks like this:

I am told it does in fact have a bottom, but it’s impossible to find.

• I believe CamCam and Little Hurricane have a secret stash of markers and crayons that I cannot find, and they will write on things when you’re distracted.  Like couches.  Or beds.  Walls.  Blankets.  Windows.  Each other.
  
• When Little Hurricane is doing things he shouldn’t, such as dumping boxes of cereal and crushing them with a truck, or playing in the toilet, don’t count on Nolie or CamCam to clue you in.  They'll just sit there and stare at him with a “I can’t believe your doing this” look on their face. 
  

Most important of all, prepare to be bombarded with sloppy kisses, tiny arms thrown around your neck or waist, and lots of I wuv you’s.  You’ll leave my house on Sunday exhausted, but smiling from ear to ear. 

Thanks mom!

Time to cut the cord

The only things I like about winter are that bugs stay out of my house and little boys stay in my house.  I am terrified of bugs and therefore take a sick delight in the fact that they all meet a frozen death once a year.  I am also mom to three fearless little boys who love to be outdoors.  I am heading into my 5th summer in a row where I go into a mini-panic every time I hear the door shut. 

Who just left the house?!?  Who’s outside?!?

If Nolie decides to go outside, it isn’t such a big deal anymore.  He understands where he needs to stay.  Plus, he’s old enough now to understand that he needs to let me know when he’s heading out the door.  AND, as an added bonus, he also understands that he needs to make sure the door is shut so that Little Hurricane can’t get out.

CamCam, not so much.  CamCam knows that I want him to stay in the back yard, but there are so many interesting things in the front yard.  And the neighbors’ yard.  And the street.  CamCam has been told countless times he’s supposed to ask before heading out the door, but who can be bothered to track down mom when there’s great fun to be had outdoors?  CamCam also thinks he’s helping Little Hurricane out by leaving the front door open for him.

But mo-om, he really wanted to go play outside!

A few days ago I was in the kitchen cooking dinner when Nolie says to me, “Hey mom, I see CamCam.”  Nolie was at out front window looking out, so I walk over to him and asked him where he saw CamCam.  “Right there,” he points, “down at the end of the street.”  I run out the front door and sure enough, there’s CamCam happy as a clam walking up the street towards our house. 

I bring him into the house and ask him what he thought he was doing.  That he knows he isn’t supposed to be outside without telling me and that he never, never, never is supposed to go in the street.  He said he wanted to take his puppy for a walk, and holds up his stuffed dog.  I bring him to the DaDa:

Me:  Every single day I tell CamCam that he can’t go outside without telling me first.  And everyday he gets punished for going outside without permission.  I just now found him walking at the end of the road, he isn’t listening to me, you need to take over.

Dada: (Looking at CamCam) What are you supposed to do before you go outside?

Cam:  Ask mom.

Dada:  And where are you supposed to stay when your outside?

Cam:  Out back.

Dada:  Then why did you just go outside without telling mom and why did you go in the road?

Cam:  I don’t know. 

Dada:  You need to start listening to your mother.

Cam:  (mumbling)  bu-sh-pa-tro-me.

Dada:  What?

Cam:  But daaaad…..  she’s always controlling me.

You know you have serious problems when your three year old tells you you’re too controlling.  How the Dada held it together for the rest of that conversation is beyond me, I was in a corner laughing my head off.  He’s a better parent then I.

A lot can change in a year. Or not.

Last year, in the month of March, I wrote a grand total of four posts.  Four.  Guess I wasn’t inspired very much.  Although toddlers have a tendency to drive you crazy with the exact. same. things. every single day over and over, so wisely I knew you’d probably only want to read about each of these things once.  No sense in us both being crazy. 

This year isn’t that much different.  Same problems, different toddler. 

My first post was about temper tantrums.  It’s amazing the amount of rage a little body can be filled with.  One minute they’re happily playing along, the next their on the floor kicking, screaming, yelling and rolling around.  And it doesn’t matter where they are, home, car, stores, parking lot- they’ll throw a fit anywhere.  Toddlers aren’t self-conscience, they don’t care that everyone around them is looking at them like their crazy.  Actually, toddlers are pretty smart, they’re probably very well aware that everyone isn't looking at them but looking at us.  So embarrassing. 

My second post was probably my favorite post I’ve ever written.  Everything was written from a two year old’s point of view.  I need to remember to do this more often, when you really think about it, there’s a lot of things that are tough about being two.  Imagine how frustrating it must be to KNOW what you want to say, but not being able to say it.  All the thoughts are right there in your head, but no one understands what your saying.  It must be a lot like being in a foreign country where no one speaks your language.  All you want is a glass of milk, and everyone keeps saying “Oh, sorry, I don’t understand what your saying.”  I’d get frustrated a lot too. 

Or imagine if people just started randomly picking you up throughout the day and bringing you somewhere else.  You’re sitting on the couch watching TV and someone comes along and carries you up to bed.  Or your happily playing with a group of toys and someone comes and carries you to another room.  Or you see something really cool in the street  and someone grabs you as you run off and straps you into the car.  It’d be frustrating, wouldn’t it?  YOU know where you want to go and where you want to be, but you keep being brought elsewhere.  And your too small to do a darn thing about it. 

I wrote about potty training CamCam. 

A year ago. 

A whole year.

Still not potty trained. 

And lastly I wrote about how CamCam was confusing me by asking for one thing and then as I was about to get it, switching to another.  He still does this, but his newest phrase is “actually.”  No matter what it is I’m doing, CamCam pipes up with “actuallllllyyyy, no.”

CamCam, do you want some milk?
Yes (I pour it)  Actuallllyyy, no.  I want juice. 

CamCam, do you want to go outside and play?
Yes  (I get him all dressed up)  Actuallllyyy, no.  I want to stay inside.

CamCam do you want goldfish for a snack?
Yes.  (I give him goldfish)  Actuallllyyy, no.  I want pretzels.  (I get pretzels)  Actualllyyy, yes, I want goldfish.   

I guess we know who the sucker is in this relationship.

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This post was written in response to Mama Kat’s writing prompt #3: What were you blogging about last year at this time? What has changed?

What’s a toddler gotta do to get arrested?

Don’t you just “love” it when you’re out in public with your kids, and they say something you don’t want them to say?  Isn’t it the best when the quieter you tell them to stop saying ‘x’, the louder they ask why they can’t say ‘x’? 

The other day after an afternoon of sledding, The Dada and I decided to stop for hot chocolate on our way home.  We pull into Dunkin’ Donuts  where two police cars happen to be parked and Nolie gasps, “The Police!” We all laughed at him, he sounded like he been avoiding them his whole life and was finally about to be caught. 

We all start walking in, and we could see three policemen sitting inside Dunkin Donuts.  “Why are the police here?” Nolie asks.  “I didn’t know police like doughnuts,” he continues.  The Dada chuckled and told him that was enough.

“Why dad?  I didn’t know police like doughnuts.  Why do police like doughnuts?”  he continues to ask through the parking lot. 

We get to the door and I stop and say to him, “Ok Nolie, that’s enough.  I don’t’ want you asking that anymore, ok?”

He shakes his head yes, and so I open the door.  Which is exactly when CamCam, in his ever so loud voice, says/yells, “I didn’t know police love doooughnuttts!!!”

Sledding’s Not For Kids

Today was one of those perfect days for sledding, and we took full advantage of it.  It snowed 2 days ago, just enough to recoat all the hills, but long enough ago for it to pack down a little bit.  If you don’t have fresh snow, then it doesn’t take long for the hills to become a giant sheet of packed down snow ice.  I found out the hard way just how dangerous this can be a few weeks ago.

A few weeks ago I took Little Miss, Nolie, CamCam and Little Hurricane sledding.  Although we’ve had an abundance of snow here this winter, the hill had been used a LOT and so had bare spots.  In the spots that weren’t bare, the snow had become so packed down it was as slippery as ice and as hard as concrete.  Not to mention the jumps.  Over the winter, kids make jumps in various spots down the hill, some were quite impressive.    When we got out of the van, Nolie commented on how steep the hill was.  I told him we’d only go half way up, that way it wouldn’t be so scary.  Nolie still was pretty nervous the whole time.  Little Hurricane had a blast being pulled around on the sled by me.  And CamCam had no fear.  He LOVED sledding.  Little Miss was so patient, she stayed low on the hill with the little boys so she could help me out with them.  As we were about to leave, she asked if she could go to the top of the hill for her final run.  I told her sure, and then CamCam said he wanted to go with her. 

“Are you sure?  It’s pretty high,” I asked him.  He told me it wasn’t too high, it was fun and he wanted to go.  I’d been watching all these other little kids going down the hill from the top the whole time, so I told Little Miss to wait for CamCam.

“Are you sure mom?” she asked. “It’s really high up here and steep.” I assured her he’d be fine, that she just needed to hold onto him really tight and he’d be ok.  She didn’t agree. “Mom, I’ll just come down there, I don’t think he should go up here.”  I assured her it was ok.  So down they went.

About a quarter of the way down the dad standing next to me commented on how fast they were flying down the hill.

About half way down the hill I started to think this wasn’t such a good idea.

About three-quarters of the way down Little Miss tried to swerve the sled to avoid one of those jumps kids had made, and instead the sled turned over.  I watched as Little Miss rolled not once but twice over CamCam, and then she slid across the snow with him under her. 

“That’s gonna hurt,” the dad said.

I started to make my way down the hill, but it was slow going considering I was holding Little Hurricane.  Little Miss kept yelling at me to hurry, that CamCam was bleeding and I needed to hurry.  There's nothing like trying to scale down a hill of ice while holding a two year old, all while your daughter is yelling at you to hurry up because there’s blood everywhere and your 5 year old’s yelling after you, “Don’t leave me up here alone MOM!”

There really wasn’t that much blood, but CamCam’s face was all cut up from being slid across the snow with Little Miss on top of him.  Poor little guy.

Needless to say, that pretty much put an end to me taking the kids sledding solo.  From here on out the little boy to grownup ratio will be MUCH higher.

 

 

Is This Appropriate Winter Attire?

This is the view from my back deck.  Winter is officially here.  Temperatures remain below freezing, snow is on the ground. 

Today it’s snowing with howling winds.

Official blizzard weather. 

This is the best time of year to be a kid, snow is full of fun possibilities.  “Little Miss” asks her brothers if they want to play outside in the snow.  I have 2 very excited little boys who eagerly run to the entry to get their snow stuff on.

But CamCam gets sent upstairs to me, despite his protests.  Once he gets here I see why.  I tell him, “CamCam, you gotta get dressed if you want to play outside.”

He replies,

“But Mom, I got my hat.”

I’m picking my battles, Don’t judge me

“Pick your battles.  Your child insists on wearing a t-shirt and shorts in December?  He’s the one who’ll be cold, not you.  Save it for something important.”

That wise advice came to me from my kids’ pediatrician before my first child was even born.  I was only 19 at the time and that conversation has stayed with me.  I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve been in the midst of “fighting” over something with one of my kids when I’ll remember “…save it for something important.”

Ironically enough, most of my battles HAVE in fact been fought over wearing clothes.  It’s already been well established that CamCam HATES wearing clothes.  I really though he’d grow out of this by now, but I still have a streaker in the house. 

You can’t even begin to imagine the battle that ensues when we need to leave the house.  We live in New England, it’s December, it’s ridiculously cold outside.  But CamCam still cannot see why he needs to get dressed to go out. 

And then there’s the coat.

Ohhhhh, the coat.  Why does he hate his coat so?  I let him pick it out himself, I foolishly thought this would help.  But apparently a coat is an evil burden CamCam wants no part of. “I don’t need my coat ma, I’m fine,” he says when we’re leaving the house.    In the van he will not get into his car seat until his coat is off.  Once we get to our destination, I get to stand outside in below freezing temperatures trying to get CamCam to understand why he now needs to put on his coat.   Often I have to force him to wear it.  We barely step inside the door of wherever we are going when CamCam abruptly stops, unzips his coat, and throws it into the stroller in disgust. 

The other night I had to stop at 3 separate places.  Once to get into the car, 3 times to get into 3 buildings, 3 times to leave 3 buildings- that equals 7 times I had to fight with CamCam about wearing his coat.  As we were leaving the final building I told him to wait, we needed to put on his coat.  He laughed and ran for the door.  Little Miss caught up to him and CamCam started crying and falling to the floor, “I don’t wanna coat, I don’t wanna coat….”

The advice I got from the pediatrician so long ago came back to me.  I said to Little Miss, “Never mind, just forget it.  One of two things will happen, either he’ll be cold and realize how foolish he is, or he actually is too hot and he’ll be happy.” 

We went outside and CamCam was so happy.  He was skipping along, singing, jumping off of steps.  He was free. 

I was smiling.

And then a couple came out of the store behind me, and I heard the women turn to her husband and say:

      “That boy really should have a coat on.”

What Was He Thinking?!?

I would LOVE it if I could, just once, understand my kid’s thought process.  How often I shake my head and say “What were you thinking?”  

“Were you thinking???”

Just the other day CamCam and Nolie were downstairs playing.  I heard CamCam cry, so I went to see what was up.  CamCam was standing at the bottom of the stairs, Nolie was hiding (definite guilty move!) and CamCam’s face was covered in a black sorta haze.  My paranoid prone brain naturally went to every worst case scenario that could have produced crying AND a black face. 

“What happened to you?”  No answer.

“What did Nolie do?”  No answer

“What’s happened to your face?!?!”  That’s when Nolie saw his chance.  He knew he’d be in trouble with the first two questions, but on this one he was scott-free.  He came bouncing out of hiding and exclaimed “CamCam ate the stamps!”

Apparently my boys were playing with stamps, and CamCam decided to lick the inkpad. 

“What were you thinking?  Why on earth would you lick the inkpad?!?”

Naturally, he had a perfectly logical explanation:  “Because, I was playing basketball and so then I ate the black.”

Well, logical to him anyways. 

I really wish I could say they grow out of this.  But, alas, experience has taught me that this is not so.

Last year, when my oldest son was 12, I went into his room and saw that his comforter had a big hole in it.

 

“What did you do to your comforter???”
”Nothing, it ripped.”
”There’s no way that it ripped like that.”
”Yes it did.”
”You seriously expect me to believe that it ripped in a perfect square.”
    silence
”Did you cut it?”
”Yeah.”
”Why did you cut it?”
”I spilled lemonade.”
(trying to wrap my brain around that one)”So why would you cut it if you spilled lemonade on it, I can just wash it.”
”No, I didn’t spill lemonade on it, I spilled it on the shelf here.”
(trying not to scream) ”I don’t get it.”
”I didn’t have any towels to wipe it up with.”
”So you thought cutting your comforter was the best idea?!?”
”What else was I supposed to do?”

I have a feeling that once they’re teenagers, it only gets worse.

Lost in Translation

What is wrong with the filter in our boy’s brains?  I know they are hearing what I say, but there must be something wrong with the connection between their ear and their brain that takes what I say, and turns it into the complete opposite.  And it’s not just one of my boys.  Nope, it’s all four.  So it definitely has to be a “boy thing”. 

I even think The Dada suffers from this.

I’m in the entry, putting on the boys coats and shoes as quickly as possible because we are running late for a doctor’s appointment.  I get “Mr. Trouble’s” stuff on him.

I say:  Ok, go out to the van and quickly buckle yourself in.  We are late so please go right into your seat.

He hears:  Go outside and run around to the back of the house.  Try and hide and when I come looking for you, run away and hide somewhere else.  Keep this up until we are REALLY late. 

I’m upstairs putting away laundry that has gathered outside the bedroom doors.  I’m in the boys room and CamCam comes up to me with a pile of his sister’s clothes.

He says: Here ya go ma.

I say: Thanks CamCam,  but these are your sister’s, they don’t go in here. The Baby’s sleeping in there though, so just put them back on the floor. 

He hears:  These are your sister’s.  Open her door and put them in her room, preferably as loudly as possible. 

We are out in public and Nolie and CamCam run off from me as we are leaving a building.  CamCam runs outside and takes off.  When we get into the van, I give the boys a stern talk about listening and safety.

I say:  You boys have got to start listening to me.  I’ve told you over and over that you have to stay next to me when we are out.  It isn’t safe when you run off.  But you don’t listen to me and that’s why we don’t get to do fun things like go to Chuckie Cheese and go to the playground.  When you start listening and being safe, then we can do more of these fun things.

CamCam hears:  We’re going to the playground!

The older two have been home from school for a half-hour and I am letting them know what their chores are. 

To my oldest I say:  You need to put your clean laundry away.  Please make sure you do not just throw it all in one drawer, you need to put everything away in the correct drawers.  I’ve even laid it out according to which drawer it goes in for you so there’s no excuse.

He hears:  Grab the 4 piles of clean laundry in one massive swoop and dump everything into the bottom drawer of my dresser.  If it topples over, grab whatever fell onto the floor, open the top drawer, and shove it into that.  Now, granted, only the middle drawer is staying closed, but 1 out of 3 isn’t half-bad. 

It’s getting close to dinner time, and I’m in the kitchen trying to finish up as quickly as possible.

I say:  Alright everyone, you gotta get out of here.  I know you’re all hungry and I’m going as fast as I can, but I cannot cook like this. 

They hear:  Mom can’t finish cooking unless The Baby is standing between her legs, hanging onto them and crying, Nolie and CamCam are running around her hitting each other, LaLa is looking in all the pots and asking if he can “just have cereal to eat.” 

The little boys have all been tucked into bed.  I’m in Nolie and CamCam’s room.

I say:  Ok boys, now it’s time to go to sleep.  I read you your book, everyone’s gone potty, you have your drinks right here.  There is no reason for you to get up.  I don’t want any talking or fooling around, it’s time for sleeping.

They hear:  Ok boys, it’s now time to act like caged animals.  I want to hear banging on the walls, throwing of toys, and LOTS of laughing.  Hopefully loud enough to wake The Baby. Tear apart your room.   And, I can think of at least 6 different things you could come out of your room to ask for.  Whatever you do- do not go to sleep. 

Messy Eaters

One of the coolest things about having lots of kids is how in one glance you can see the progression with each age.  The other day all four of my boys were sitting next to each other on the couch, and just so happened to be sitting according to age.  Their heads looked like a set of stairs, it made The Dada and me chuckle.  Anytime I’m doing an art activity with my three little guys, it quickly becomes apparent the amount of growth that occurs year to year. 

And then there’s eating.  Some nights I wonder when I’m going to be free of washing messy little hands and faces.  The other night we were eating spaghetti and I realized that this will happen sometime between the ages of 5 and 13.

The messiness of boys eating, according to age:

Age 13.  Perfectly clean, as I’d expect.

 

Age 5.  Little sauce on the cheeks, nothing awful.

 

Age 3.  Oh yeah, that’s more like it. 
Face, tummy, hands… nice. 

20 Months.  Maybe next time I’ll spoon-feed him.

He sure was enjoying this meal.

 

That explains how he gets it in his hair!

Hmmm, it might just be easier to trade in for a new,
clean baby. 

Now their rooms, that’s a funny thing.  If I were to take a picture of their rooms, the mess would go in the exact opposite direction.

From Eating money to Toilet aim to Killing lobsters

I LOVE preschool talk.  Just love it.  If you spend any amount of time listening, really listening, to a preschooler and what they are saying, I guarantee you’ll have a good laugh. 

There are those conversations that make you realize that, while it is possible to have a logical conversation with a 5 year old, it just isn’t possible with a 3 year old:

5 year old- Mom, when did I swallow money?

Me- I don’t remember you swallowing money.

5yo- Well, I remember that I did.  It was on my tongue and then it slipped down my throat.

Me- Well, don’t do that again.  We don’t want to put money in our mouth, it’s dangerous.  Plus it has germs. 

5yo- What’ll it do to me?

Me- They’ll make you sick.

5yo- No, I mean what do the germs do to me?

Me- I know, they’ll make you sick.  You’ll throw up.

3 year old, who’s been listening intently to the entire conversation with a look of concentration on his face- And what paper do??? It goes like this:  boom! boom! boom! (Hitting his book back and forth)  And people go ahhhhhhhhh! (Hits himself in face with book)  Like that!

Then there are those conversations that make you wonder what kind of child you are raising:

Like, when your 4 year old brings you something he’s built out of Legos and you say- “Oh, that’s so nice!  What are those, trees?”

And he replies- “No, they’re warriors of doom.”

There are the conversations you hear that make you wonder how on earth we got from point A to point B:

Nolie (aka Mr. Trouble)- (eyeing my dinner plate of tortellini)  Hey!  Do I like that?

Me- No, you don’t.  You think they’re yucky.

CamCam- Hey!  I like those!  I eat that!

Me- No, you don’t like these either.  You think they’re yucky.

CamCam- Yes I do, I like to eat yucky.

Nolie- You like to eat yucky things CamCam?

CamCam- Yup!

Nolie- Just not lobster?

CamCam- I eat lobster.

Nolie- You like to eat their bodies?

CamCam-  No!!! I don’t want to eat my body!!!

Nolie- No, not your body.  You eat lobster’s bodies.  You eat and eat lobster’s bodies and when you eat all their body then their dead. 

There are those conversations that just make you shake your head:

Like when I was talking with Nolie about how he needs to aim better in the toilet-

“Pee goes in here, not here, or here, or here.  Just here.

Nolie- And not in here? (pointing to where the seat connects to the bowl)

Me- No!!! Why on earth are you asking that?!? You don’t pee there do you?

Nolie- Yes I do.

Me- Why!?!

Nolie- Because I like to.

There are the conversations that make it really hard to be the tough, in charge parent.  Because all you want to do is laugh.

It’s bedtime at our house and, like usual, Nolie and CamCam are not settling down to sleep.  They were tucked into bed almost an hour ago and we can still hear them fooling around up there.  Time to send in the big guns- The Dada goes up.

The Dada (after a stern talk about how it’s now bedtime)- Now, do you want to go to sleep or do you want to find out what will happen if I have to come back up here?

Nolie-  I want to find out what will happen.

Dada- No, if I have to come back up, I’m not going to be happy.  So do you want to find out or do you just want to go to sleep?

Nolie- I really want to know what’s going to happen.

And then there are the ones that remind you that you're the mom of boys:

I’m sitting in a chair and Nolie comes in and sits in my lap.  He stayed awhile, which is rare for him.  Usually he jumps right up.  I put my arms around him, and he snuggled in.  So I started rocking and humming the itsy bitsy spider song to him, thinking, “isn’t this nice?”

Nolie- Guess what I did mom?

Me- Hmmm?

Nolie- Guess what I did mom?

Me- What?

Nolie- I tooted on your leg.

You know you’re the mom of little boys when. . .

Your dining room table is actually a fort

  

 

If necessary, you could feed a small family out of all your baseboard heaters.

You open up your window to get some fresh air, and find that it is actually a carport. 

Your kitchen cabinets…

 

…are harder to get into then Fort Knox.

 

Your baby gate…

…is being held in place with cable ties…

 

…because someone worked overtime to pull it out of the wall.

 

You pull back YOUR bed covers and find this:

 

More of lunch ends up on the floor…

…then in this tummy.

Your sound system and DVD player have to be barricaded. 

When you manage to clean one room….

 

…only to pay for it in another room,

  

…and another. 

I Love You Guys!

    

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Edited to add:  I’m so excited because today I received an email from the SITS girls telling me that I am the Sits Girl in the Spotlight!!!  If you have NO idea what I’m talking about, then you have to check out the SITS website.  I love them!

And if you’re interested in the blog post that the featured picture prompted, here it is.   

 

Shhhh. . . Everyone freeze or they’ll get up!

We are still doing the no TV thing, and 99% of the time it is still going smashingly, but, I will admit, there still is that 1% of the time that:

Blue’s Clues is Awesome!!!

 

I wonder if stamps are figured into the cost of raising a child?

Recently I sent The Dada a text message that read:  You’re out of stamps. 

To which he replied:  How can I be out of stamps?  I just bought some.

To which I replied:  Because certain people in our house do not understand the meaning of the word “stamps”, but they do understand the meaning of the word “stickers”.

Yes, once again my boys were up to no good.  CamCam had his back to me, and I heard some paper crinkling.  I kept looking over, but didn’t see anything.  I assumed he found a little piece of paper on the ground and was playing with it.  But eventually I asked him what he had.  He said “Stickers.”  I figured he took some stickers out of his potty reward stash and was playing with them.  I don’t know why I haven’t learnt my lesson by now.  Why do I always assume my boys are playing with something normal? Why haven’t I learnt that their little imaginations never take them to toys or stickers or plastic containers?  No, their little mischievous imaginations take them to makeup drawers, markers, trash and anything that would waste my money. 

When I did finally go over to them, I saw that they had gotten into our stamps and put them everywhere.

“Who put these everywhere?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Mr. Trouble.  “CamCam and me?”  And then, get this, he says, with a sense of pride and accomplishment in his voice, “We worked very hard.”

Like I should be thanking him or something!  “Wow boys!  Great job!  I am so impressed that you put these very expensive stickers all over the room.  Way to go!”

 

---

This is pretty cool.  All our doorknobs should have a stamp on them.

 

If your going to play with stamps, there must ALWAYS be an attempt to mail a baby. 

  

 

So if you think your boys are up to no good never, never, never ask them about it and take their word for it.  Investigate.  I assume I’m being taught this lesson by toddlers so that when I’m the mommy of teenagers I’ll know better.

Thanks boys.

I swear we do NOT drink out of the milk carton!

Sorry for the abrupt ending, but can’t you just picture that gallon of milk tipping up higher and higher and then splashing all over CamCam’s face, him pulling back in horror, and the milk emptying out all over my floor???

So can I, that’s why I dropped the camera and ran.

A side effect of potty training I DID see coming

If you’ve been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know that CamCam has always been a little obsessed with the potty. 

No, not in a good way. 

In a gross, yucky, make me want to burn down my house and move kinda way.

So it was with a bit of reluctance that I approached potty training CamCam.  Eventually, I knew I’d have to let him and the potty have time together. 

Alone.

Unsupervised.

It was an accident waiting to happen. 

Oddly enough, our “potty accident” didn’t occur when CamCam was alone.  Nope.  I was standing at the sink, 3 feet away from him.  Which, actually, shouldn’t surprise me at all.  Most things seem to happen when I am in the room.  I don’t know if I’m oblivious or if my kids are invisible, but it’s got to be one of those two.  So anyways, I’m standing at the sink getting ready and I hear CamCam playing next to me.  He’s playing with his new car, the one he earned by getting all the stickers on his potty chart. 

Vroooom, vrooom, ahhhhh! 

I look over to see what he’s doing, and there he is, kneeling in front of the toilet.  Both arms are in the bowl, and he is running that little car all over the inside of the toilet. 

Vrooooom, vrooom, ahhhh!  Don't go in the wata, oh no! Ahhhhh, Splash!!!