The one in which a cow is killed

Yesterday “Little Miss” had a chorus concert at her school.  Sitting for a long period of time in the middle of a crowd full of people with my 3 little boys to watch something that probably would bore them, yeah, I was pretty excited to take them to this.  I knew her part was last, so I didn’t get there early, I drove up as it was starting. 

And then I drove around the school looking for parking.

And again.

Why did they make a school without a parking lot?  There also was construction on the street, which made it that much better.  Finally I found a spot at the very end of the street, about 1/2 a mile from the school.  I parked and took a moment to figure out how to best get my crew to the school.  The school has stairs to get into it, so I couldn’t even pull out the big stroller.  While I’m trying to figure out if it would be possible to walk that far with them, “Mr. Trouble” pipes up and says: “We can’t park here, it’s too far!  What if my legs get tired?”

You know what?  He’s right.  I know that right in front of the school door was a bus only spot, and I decided that for once I wasn’t going to play by the rules and instead I’d make it easy on myself.  So up we went.  Thanks for the advice “Mr. Trouble.”

I decided it would be best to stand up back with my boys, it would give them a little freedom at least.  They did pretty well, we made it through half of the songs and then the snacks I brought ran out. 

Seriously boys, you gotta learn to pace yourselves!  They look at the size of the bag of snacks, and then look at how many people are sharing, and from that ratio decide how quickly they should shove pretzels into their mouth.  This was a 3 to 1 snack bag ratio so the little hands were grabbing overtime and cramming food in as their little eyes darted back and forth from the bag to each other. 

But once “Mr. Trouble” yelled out that this was boring and he wanted to go home, and CamCam chimed in with a loud YEAH!, I decided it was time to take them into the hall. 

One of my kids past teachers was out there, and her and I started talking about kids.  She mentioned how she had 3 girls and 1 boy, and how boys were so much easier then girls.  How her boy was so calm and mild.

Hah!

Then she offered to watch mine so that I could watch the rest of the concert.  All I could think about was how she’s raised this one calm boy, and what on earth would she do if I left her alone with my 3 little monsters.  So I politely declined.  She went into her room and came out with these little animal finger puppets for my boys.  They eagerly grabbed 3 each, and she puts one on her hand and kneels down to play with them, “Hi Mr. Cow, how are you today?”

And at the same time, both my boys reach out with their little puppets and start hitting hers, “die, die, pew, pew, pew!”  I saw a shocked look that she quickly tried to conceal appear on her face.

I wanted to die from embarrassment.

Never call a 2 year old unless you have unlimited minutes

"Hey CamCam!  It’s momma.”
“Yup.”
“Are you having a fun time?”
“Yup.”
“Momma misses you.”
“Yup.”
“What did you do today?”
“Yup.”
“Did you play toys?”
“Yup.”
“That's good.  Did you go to the playground?”
“Yup.”
”Did you have a fun time?”
“Yup.”
“I love you.”
“I wuch you too.” (Heart melts here)
”Can momma talk to LaLa?”
“Yup.”
”Can you give LaLa the phone?”
“Yup.”
”Where’s LaLa?”
“Right here.”
”Ok, can you give him the phone?”
“Yup.”
(long pause)
”CamCam?”
“Yup.”
”You gotta give LaLa the phone, ok?”
“Yup.”
”Give the phone to LaLa.”
“Yup.”
”Bye, bye CamCam”
“Yup.”
“You can give the phone to LaLa now.”
“Yup.”
(long pause filled with heavy breathing)
”CamCam?”
“Yup.”
”Please give the phone to anyone.”
“Yup.”
”Ok, momma’s going to hang up now.”
“Yup.”
”Bye CamCam.”
“Yup.”

 

Cookies!

Who doesn’t love cookies?  Adults?  Kids?

Two Year Olds???

Oh yes, our CamCam is a big fan of cookies.  I really do enjoy baking, but I do not bake cookies often.  This is because my kids act like they have been deprived of cookies their entire childhood when I make them. 

“Leader of the Fab Five” slyly grabs a handful everytime he walks into the kitchen.  It’s all done in one fluid motion, walk into kitchen- walk to cookies without looking at them so as to appear uninterested- do not slow down as you pass the cookies- quickly reach one arm out and grab whatever your hand can hold- faster then the human eye can see tuck arm back into body hiding cookies- quickly make your escape to your room. 

“Little Miss” always asks first.  But she takes her asking to the extreme.  One of the other kids will ask if they can have one, and I’ll say yes.  Then, in her sad-I’m-absolutely-wasting-away-to-nothing-from-starvation voice she’ll quietly say “Mom?  Can I have one?”  Sometimes I like to mess with her and say “No, He can but you can’t.”  I have a sick sense of humor.  And of course once they’re all gone, she always cries about how it’s no fair, she hardly got any.

“Mr. Trouble” does a combination of asking and sneaking.  If I’m in the room, he will ask.  He’s on a schedule like this:

10:00  Mom, can I have a cookie?  No.
10:01  Mom, can I have a cookie?  No.
10:02  Mom, now can I have a cookie?  NO!
10:02 1/2  Mom, can I have a cookie now?   Grrrrr!!!

But of course if I’m not in the room, he will grab whatever he can and eat and eat until I get back in.  And, stupidly, I always ask him if he ate cookies.  And, innocently, he always replies no.  Guess the crumbs hanging from his face and hands are from something else.

CamCam just follows along with whatever everyone else is doing.  He tags along like a little puppy, waiting for the leftovers. 

Today though, he woke  up before everyone else and had the house to himself.  I thought I heard someone downstairs, and then there was CamCam, at the edge of my bed, holding his hand in that special way he holds it when it’s dirty and needs to be washed.  I didn’t have my glasses on, and so was a little concerned about what mess his little hand got into considering it was being shoved into my face.  But I smelled sweetness, and knew all was ok. 

“CamCam, did you eat cookies?”
“Nnnnnope!”
“Do you need to wash your hands?”|
“Yyyyyyup!”

So I went downstairs with him and “Mr. Trouble” followed.  As usual, “Mr. Trouble” went over to the counter to where the cookies were.  Then he cried: “uhhhhhh, no fair!  Someone ate all the cookies!”

And little CamCam, over at the sink washing up, laughed and said in his best “na-na I got it and you didn’t” voice:

“Ha-haa.  I ate all the cookies!”

Which, I gotta admit, made me smile, but I put on a good show and said: “CamCam, that’s not very nice!”

Which he replied to by rubbing his tummy. 
“Yum, yum, yum!  It was goooood!”

No, I do not buy my boys capri PJ’s

It’s very simple really.  “Mr. Trouble” is bottom shelf, CamCam is the next shelf up, “The Baby” is the next 2 shelves.  I even kept them in order according to age. 

Or, if that doesn’t work for you, if your son looks like this:

 

then you know that you’ve probably chosen the wrong shelf.

Better read this one quickly, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before “The Dada” asks me to delete it.  :)

Hoping “The Dada” Doesn’t Read This One

Is it a toddler’s mission in life to ruin anything nice their parents buy?  We finally replaced our couch because the kids had ruined it, and everyday since I’ve been under constant stress over our new couches.  The old one had been peed on, thrown up on, jumped on so many times the springs had broken, ripped and drawn ALL over.  So you can see where my stress is coming from.

Recently we refinished our hardwood floors, and just last night we finally brought our couches back into our living room. 

This morning I fed CamCam breakfast- lovely, sticky Honey Nut Cheerios.  As usual, half way through he gave up on the slow spoon and resorted to grabbing his cereal by the fistful and shoving it into his mouth.  I walked by him on my way upstairs to get “The Baby”, and mentioned to CamCam that he needed to use his spoon. 

I come downstairs to find that my 2 little boys had finished their breakfast, and both had been playing on the couch.  All the cushions were still off the big one, and piled up in the corner. 

Jumping on springs and climbing pillow mountains!  Could I have left a more inviting scenario for them???

At the moment I walked into the room, CamCam was walking across the couch, hands placed on the back for balance.  All I could see was Sticky Honey Hands sliding across the back of my couch.  I told him to get down off my couch, he had to wash his hands after he ate. 

He sneezed across the back of my couch.

Turned around to get down, and sneezed across the front. 

I saw something fly out. 

I grab him to wash his hands, and “Mr. Trouble” seized the moment to run up "Pillow Mountain.”  I grab “Mr. Trouble” to wash his hands, and turn back around to see CamCam jumping up and down on the springs.  It was like a trampoline- boing! boing! boing! 

I shoo both of them away, go to the kitchen to get a bottle, and come back to see CamCam standing up on the arm of the couch, ready to jump. 

This couch doesn’t stand a chance.

I’m Confused

I think CamCam is messing with me.  He has been so whiney lately, and every little thing is resulting in him having a meltdown.  I’ve reached my “Whine Limit”, and so try to avoid his fits as much as possible. 

If he asks for a particular food or drink, and you give him the wrong one, he has a complete fit.  So I try really hard to decipher his toddler babble and what he wants.

But I think he’s purposefully trying to drive me nuts.

Today he wanted a drink.  He came to me and said:  “Ma, I milk.”

Me: “Ok, you want some milk.”

CamCam: “Yes”  (wait 10 seconds) “A-ju, a-ju, Aaaaaaa-juuuuuu!” 

A-Ju is his word for apple juice.  So as I stood up I asked him, “You want apple juice?”

He said yes.  We started to walk towards the fridge and he clapped and said: “YAY!  Milk!”

Huh?

We get to the fridge and I asked him if he wanted apple juice or milk. 

He said yes.

So I had a smart moment, opened the fridge, and told him to show me what he wanted.  He pointed to the apple juice and said “A-Ju”.  That seemed pretty clear to me.  I pulled it out, which got another round of applause, set up the cup and started to pour.

I was mid-pour, the juice was actually in mid-air, it had officially left the jar but hadn’t yet touched the bottom of the cup, when I hear a little voice next to me exclaim:

”MILK!”

Ok, You Win

CamCam, mommy is sorry.  You’ve been showing me the signs that you are ready to begin potty training for awhile now, and I’ve chosen to ignore them.  I was still feeling pretty beaten up from potty training your older brother.  It took him over a year, and this has been the first week we’ve been 100% pull-up free.  (even at night, yay!) Mommy was tired of potty training and wanted a break.

But you were ready.  It’s not your fault he took forever.  It looks like fun to you, and you wanted to be a part of The Big Boy Club.

I’ve humored you and let you sit on your little potty when you asked.  But I didn’t give it my all.  I should have talked it up.  Made you a potty chart.  Encouraged you throughout the day to try it out. 

So I’m not at all mad at you for taking matters into your own hands tonight.

I understand.

Sure, I was a little surprised when you came up to me with your shirt soaking wet.  I was even more surprised when I lifted it up and saw you without a diaper.  So I asked you where your diaper was.

CamCam:  Uh, da ga-bage.

Mommy:  Why did you put your diaper in the garbage?

CamCam:  It gross.  I pooped.

Sure, the wasn’t a liner in the garbage can.  My fault again.  Think I’ll just buy a new garbage can.

And sure you were wet with toilet water.  But that’s my fault too.  Because if I had taken the time to properly toilet train you, you’d know that when you went to wipe yourself, it would be ok to just throw the paper in. 

You didn’t have to physically place the toilet paper at the very bottom of the toilet.  There’s no need to get yourself soaked up to your elbows like that. 

So tomorrow we will start. 

Just remember, you asked for it.