Gettin' Larned

M-A-F!
Mmmmmmmm aaaaaaaaa f....mmmmaaaaf...maf! That spells maf!! Hey mom, M-A-F spells maf!

Good reading Bo. Maf isn't a word that means anything, but that is exactly what m-a-f spells.

It is too a word.

Uh, no, not really.

Well, then what do you call what you do at school with numbers, the alphabet!?!

Pink Stuff

Monday night, within 12 minutes of the pediatrician's office closing, Bo informed me that his ear hurt. He had developed a cough and his eyes were all red and cruddy, and I'd kept him home from school so it didn't come as a big surprise. I looked over at him and both of his ears were bright red. I figured 20 hours would make all the difference in getting him on antibiotics, so I took him to the urgent care. He had an ear infection and a fever and THEN the doctor said, "And I'll give him drops for his eyes because he has pink eye."

Now, I'm like a pink eye veteran. I got pink eye several times in my youth. Because I never was sick when I got it, I always thought of pink eye as it's own little disease, not any random eye infection that came along when the rest of your head was snotty and infected. So, when the doctor said that, I said, "Pink eye? Really? That's what that is?!" And the nice little doctor who was talking so gently and bustling around the little exam room sweetly, turned on me and bared his fangs. I guess he thought I was questioning his doctor knowledge; which, I'm totally allowed to do without getting bitten, but I wasn't.

"What!? What do you call an eye that is pink!? I mean, it's an adjective and a noun. Pink. Eye."

Oh, oh did you say adjective and noun? Mama don't know nuthin' about thems adj'tives and nowns. Excuse me while I get back to my very important job of letting my eyeballs roll back in my head and slobbering uncontrollably.

It really bugged me. It's not like the treatment would be any different, I was just axing about the terminology. Note to self, do not "question" sweet looking vampire doctor about nouns and adjectives.

Yesterday Avee got her cast removed, so I was off again spending my precious internets time schlepping ungrateful kids to doctor appointments. Oh just kidding, Bo even said, "Hey mom, sanks fo getting me liquid for my ee-yah when I said my ee-yah hote." (The doctor asked if he was okay with "liquid" for the antibiotics and Bo grabbed the term and ran with it).

We were prepared for her cast to be removed by blue scissors. I'm kind of a bad mom that I didn't suggest beforehand that it was probably not going to be scissors but rather a VERY LOUD SAW. But she was just so cute saying "buhlue sih-ssors" and making the motion with her two, sometimes three, very tiny fingers.












When the lady came at Avee with the saw, she was not a happy girl. I meant to be
soothing and comforting, but I was busy taking pictures.

The cast came off and the enticing aroma of hyperactive toddler's 3 weeks of foot sweat filled the room. It was really gross. And I deal with gross almost daily.

The cast-cutter lady stuck Avee's cast in a brown paper bag and sent us off to wait for x-rays.

Back in the waiting area, the small room had filled up. Avee limp-pranced around holding her brown bagged cast. A lady asked her what she had in her bag. Avee said, "My casth. It stinks in the bag." The lady (probably not having heard or understand when Avee said cast) said, "Oh it stinks in there?" And Avee explained, "Yes, there's poop in here." The lady sort of jumped back in her seat. Another couple with children around Avee's age burst out laughing. Clearly they were familiar with toddler logic. Smell-that-mom-complains-about=Poop.

After the x-ray they could see exactly where the fracture was. When the orthopaedist came in, he sat down and had Avee walk for him and then turned to me and said, "Well, I'm just not sure if I want to put her in another cast for 10-14 days or if it's healed enough and she can be done with the cast, what do you think?" At which point I let my eyes lull back and I started to slobber. It was such a stark contrast to my experience with a doctor less than 24 hours before.

We decided on no cast but if she's till limping in a few days I have to take her back. I'm worried that another cast may be in store because today I was painting her toenails and grabbed her leg to pull up on my lap and she cried out in pain. I didn't think it would still be sore, I thought the limping would be from the muscles having to get strong again. But what do I know?

Pink. Eye.

You May Wish For More Regular, Succinct, and Having-a-point Posts

I'm baaaaaaaaaaack.
Sorry for the long absence. I didn't plan it, but I really did think tales of saggy pecs would keep you for a week or two. Guess I was wrong.

We went to Missouri for Thanksgiving and we had a great time. I may make it well into my 50's without ever having made a turkey or hosted Thanksgiving. My sister is a superb hostess and amazing cook and with my mom 3 blocks away, my perfect role is that of eater and feeder. I did a lot of both.

Some highlights: On Thanksgiving day, Bo's cousin introduced him to the wishbone and together they pulled one apart. Bo got the bigger end. With which he promptly sliced his finger. I guess he didn't wish for the winning piece to not hurt him. Is it irony to be in love with Spiderman, break apart a wishbone, wish that there be no spiders, and promptly get cut by the wishbone? I'm not really clear on the definition of irony, but that seems like it should be.

My sister's mashed potatoes.

My sister-in-law's cheesecake. J, in his very J-esque way, walked past it and took a small sampling and kept walking. As the taste hit his buds, he spun around and went right back to the pan, while loudly exclaiming in what could have been insulting surprise, "WOW! THAT is good cheesecake!"

Thanksgiving Day was Bo's half birthday. He heard the word "cake" in reference to cheesecake and he was sure that the cheesecake was for his birthday. I did not correct him. Less work for me, right? Typically, while I think it's a cute idea, we haven't ever really acknowledged half birthdays. Less work for me, right? But, Bo has been obsessed with being 4 and a half. Since he was born in the 3rd week of May, I just told him (months ago) that he would be 4 and a half at Thanksgiving. We were both delighted to learn that it was actually on Thanksgiving Day. I don't know why I was delighted too. I just was.

On Friday we got to go to a Blue Man Group concert. It was really good. I wasn't sure how enjoyable grown men dressed in blue who won't talk would be. It was so good. We left the kids with my mom and went with a few of my siblings. I was so excited about leaving my kids I even put lipstick on and combed my hair. I think one of the blue men totally noticed me.

On Saturday just before we headed out of town we went to this little Greek restaurant where the food was UH-mazing. I realized I was way more into the food than is socially acceptable when the waitress started clearing plates but didn't touch anything within the radius of my arm's reach. I think she was afraid she'd get bitten. As she should have been.

Today we're back and I keep finding my nose pressed to a cold round stone that keeps turning. Very unpleasant.

Bo is sick and home from school. Danyo has only woken up to eat and periodically scoot around the living room since we got home. He is catching up on a week of missed sleep because he was more interested in crying and being held. Wide awake.

Avee is still in diapers and a pink cast. My sister has hardwood floors so Avee had to modify her prance in order to stay upright. It was pretty funny, a rhythmic chink-clunk-BOB. She had to get a grip with her toes that stuck out from her cast, but couldn't resist the clunk her cast makes on the ground, so she fit it all in and managed to make her gimpy bobbing up and down look completely adorable.

There is nothing adorable about the way I walk. Ever. When I was in high school I performed at a piano recital that got video taped. I watched myself walk right up to the camera and then veer left. I was horrified when I saw the footage. I had on a pretty cute dress, I had a great figure, my hair was long and luscious, without stating the obvious, I was pretty stunning. And then there was the walk. My feet both just pointed out in opposite directions. If ducks were 5'11", wore blue dresses and had long red hair, that is what they would look like. It was very sad for me to see this about myself. I tried to correct it, but much like thinking a stiff back and butt sticking out was the key to beauty making myself walk pigeon-toed didn't fix anything. I have a hard life guys. Well, I saw a snippet of footage my brother took after the BMG concert and saw myself walking. Picture, no sexy blue dress, a short-not-so-red-anymore haired woman who looks like she ate the hot 16 year old me, STILL walking like a duck.

Yeah, as soon as I finish this pint of Phish Food, I'm totally going on a diet. And learning how to walk...unduckish.



p.s. these pictures were taken by my SIL Cyndi who is an amazing (self-taught, no lessons, thank you very much DAD) photographer. She also reads this blog, so you can tell her what a great photographer she is if you think so too. I've already told her like, infinity times.

Of Showers and Suanas and Saggy Pecs

I may have an addictive personality. Now, even as I write that, I think it's kind of a dumb thing to say. I mean, who doesn't have an addictive personality? Who can look into the eyes of Ben and his gorgeous brother Jerry, and partake of their sweet goodness, and then walk away?

I decided that while I am going to the Y and doing bootcamp for an hour and then picking up my kids all sweaty and going home---I'm being stupid. I have two hours of free childcare. The Y has showers. I have children that I like other people to watch. I am frequently in need of a shower.

So Monday, after bootcamp, I went and checked out the sauna. There's a little light, so I read for a little bit and sweat a lot. It was fascinating. I had no idea my calves were capable of sweating. Then an older man came in and started telling me about all the weights he lifts and all the exercise he does. After the sauna I took a shower. Well, it was more like, I ran around a little shower stall to get wet. Whatever, it worked. I smelled much better after that than I do on a normal day.

I came home and literally collapsed. After I fed the kids lunch and put Avee and Danyo down for a nap, I could NOT keep my eyes open. Couldn't. I was soooooo tired. And achy. I haven't been achy from a workout in a long time. I was sure I was getting sick. So I took a nap with the two babies. Bo coordinated and hosted a potluck dinner with the neighbors and a few church friends while I slept. Good boy.

When J called around 3 I could barely keep my eyes open and talk intelligibly. Not sure the latter part is all that unusual.

Tuesday I felt fine.

Wednesday, feeling proud of my new discovery of the YMCA showers, I decide to do the sauna-shower thing again. I marched into the sauna with my book and there sat Mr. Saggy Pecs, all geared up to chat. I learned that his son paid over 300K in taxes last year. And that he's brilliant and mellow and works 65 hours a week, etc, etc, etc. Really I just wanted to see what Bella and Edward's next fight was going to be about. But I'm a nice girl, so I said a lot of, "Wow, that's great" and "Oh my goodness" and "That's so wonderful, what a good son" etc, etc, etc. I even refrained from bragging that my 2 year old can burp the alphabet.

I came home after picking up Bo from preschool and almost fell asleep in the jar of peanut butter. Sooooooooo tttttiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrreeeeeedddd.

I pushed through though. Our new Netflix came and there were Transformers to be seen. I thought I'd bond with Bo as we watched and anticipated the arrival of "Ognamus Crime" as in, "Not octaBUS, like the sea creature, not buh, buh, BUS, but aawg-nuh-MUS, MUS, see it's different than octabus, there's a NYUH sound and a MUH sound..."

Neither of us made it very long. Apparently Ognamus Crime's delayed appearance in the movie was unsatisfactory to Bo and apparently being upright and awake was unsatisfactory for me.

Now, I may be slow, but I'm not THAT slow. I just didn't know the sauna could do that to a person.

On the other hand, I've become addicted. I think about the sauna when I'm not in it. When I'm away from it, I fantasize about the moments when I can be back in it's dark, dry, hot embrace again. Minus Mr. Saggy Pecs, I can see this relationship going far. I have no idea why I love the sauna so much. Really. Any ideas? I do love just sitting still and seeing all this sweat pour from my body, like I've just finished the most intense workout of my life. It just seems impossible that effortless sweating is the whole reason I'm in love.

But it might be.

And I'm shamelessly sharing that with the internets.

Excuse Me

Could the know-it-alls who held my baby nonstop and told me it's impossible to spoil a newborn please come and clean up the mess they have made? You know who you are.

Benisms

I've kept the tv off today.

I wondered if we'd make it through. Avee thinks dvdvd's are what supplies the blood to her veins. Bo can't "evoh sink of anysing to do" when the tv is off. I'm embarrassed to admit this.

I imagined us filling the day with playdoh and go fish and painting and reading. I would be mom of the...day. I decided it was time to make this change, whatever sacrifices of sanity I would have to make. I made this decision last night.

This morning Bo cried for 15 minutes and threatened to nevoh eat breakfast, lunch OH dinnoh, evoh again. I asked him who would be hungry if he did that. He got even more mad when he did the math and realized it would be him and not me.

We have had one of the most delightful and pleasant mornings that I can remember having in a long time. I guess it helps that Danyo is asleep and they are getting a little more of my undivided attention. But as usual, the highlight of being a mom, is getting to hear the crazy things my kids say.

Bo was talking to me about his church class and how his friend Sara is a CTR 9. I told him next year, in a couple of months, he would be a CTR 5 because he would be almost 5. We had this discussion for some time when he said, "So, I guess I'm a CTR 4 now?" I told him his class was called Sunbeam, that's just the name they called the class of 3 and 4 year old kids. He had wandered into the living room so I almost didn't hear him say, "Now why do you sink Jesus even wants me to be a Sunbeam? It just seems wee-yod."

Later, I was leaving a message:
Me:"I'd like to come visit you sometime in the next week, whatever works for you..."
Bo: (stage whisper in my face) Does she have KIDS!?
Me: (Glaring at Bo) just let me know and we'll set up a time, thanks!
Bo: I want to go! I want to go! Does she have kids!?
Me: No, she doesn't have any kids.
Bo: Oh! So that means she's not married!
Me: No it doesn't. She's married. She just doesn't have any kids.
Bo: Ohhhhh, so she's SKINNY!
Me: Get over here boy, I'm gonna whoop you...

Avee, ever the optimist, was rummaging through the shelf of dvds and decided on one to come and plead her case with. She pulled it out and 7 more toppled down on her and onto the floor. She froze, looked at me wide-eyed (I think she may have thought she was being sneaky pulling Caillou out) and said, "This is sihw-ee-us!"
It took me another 10 minutes to realize she was quoting Wonderpets.

I have seriously been laughing about something every 15 minutes---I just won't bore you with the little things that only I think are funny. Okay, yes I well. I turned the heat on this morning and Avee has been going around to every vent warming various body parts. One in the living room for her head, the one in the kitchen for her uncast left foot. One in the bathroom for her backside. I think she's evenly roasted now.

I often put Danyo in the corner of the couch and surround him with pillows. About every other day Bo comes dangerously close to him and gets a yelp and a scold out of me. Today I put Danyo upstairs in his crib in hopes of getting a longer sleep out of him. A few minutes ago Bo flung himself onto the couch where a couple of pillows were piled up. He got a panicked expression, looked around the room for Danyo, looked at me and said, "Am I sitting on Danyo?!" Poor sweet boy tries to do what's right, it's just sometimes his body doesn't let him.

Go Bulldogs

Bo is given the ball to dribble. Although he is right-handed, he dribbles with his left (I'm sure that's some sign of genius, isn't it?)And although he is 3' 5", he prefers to dribble 3 inches off the floor.
It took him a full minute to get down the court. See those two coaches alongside him? They are patience personified.
This is his aggressive defense stance. See that other team shakin' in their sneakers? Interestingly, the same pose is struck on the other end of the court when his own team is making a basket.

And some footage that captures my little Bulldog so well. At first you might think, "awww poor little guy fell..." keep watching.

Hot Pink Is The New I Knew It!

Sooooooooo Avee fell jumped 24 days ago. After one solid week of refusing to walk, she started walking trepidatiously, often preferring to crawl. She did that for about 5 days. Then she started mostly walking and proudly announcing, "I can WALK, I CAN WALK!" and "Iss not ho-ting, iss not!"

Most of that was because she knew if she could walk and it didn't hurt, the word "doctor" would stop coming up in conversation.

X-rays on the day of the injury and 1 week later both failed to show anything. But I was not convinced. Especially after hearing story after story of undiscovered breaks. And because Avee is unstoppable. Seeing her "stopped" was the most telling. She fell a lot. She would be walking/running and would suddenly be crawling. She'd morph into a crawl without breaking her stride, much how I imagine a werewolf looks. If werewolves actually existed.

Ave's pediatrician wiggled her leg around (Avee is the worst kind of patient, she refuses to show that it hurts. I see her set her little jaw and I know the dr will get nothing from her, no matter how much it hurts) and sent me down for x-rays. I was a little disappointed she didn't try harder, but whatever. She referred us to a pediatric orthopaedist. J wanted me to chill out in case it was a sprain. So I chilled. And at two weeks of still falling, sporadically crawling, and consistent limping, I called to get an appt. They told me December 3rd. That was a week ago. I said to the scheduler, "You do realize how ridiculous it is for you to even suggest I wait that long, don't you?" She was mildly sympathetic, but assured me there was nothing more she could do. There is no other orthopaedic group in this area. I hung up the phone on the verge of tears. If my daughter's growth plate was affected and she remained 2' 8" for the rest of her life, I was gonna be sick.

After a weekend of worrying about all of it, I called my pediatrician again. She wasn't in, but a nurse went to bat for me. She had no more luck than me, but got me on a cancellation list. The next day the nurse apprised Avee's dr of the situation and the doctor said "that's not acceptable" two hours later I had an appointment with an orthopaedist for this morning at 9 am.
We had to wait an hour and 45 minutes. Avee was doing flips off the couch. When the receptionist came to tell me how much longer my wait was, Avee made a break for it and got all the way across a lobby (about 25 feet) and up about 12 stairs. The receptionist chased after her. She thought it was funny. I was embarrassed. Here I was, convinced that something was wrong with Avee and she's tearing through the office like a madwoman. I had finally convinced myself the night before, I'd rather be wrong and look dumb, than be right and her suffer. I'm selfless like that. But with Avee's antics and lots of witnesses, I was feeling a bit sheepish.

The dr checked her, it was a fracture, she was in getting a cast within 10 minutes.

The guy who put her cast on was a genius. I have mentioned Avee's phobia of bandaids, so I wasn't too confident the whole casting thing was going to go over well. He had Avee wrapped around his finger in seconds. That NEVER happens. Ever. She was giggling and covering her mouth and batting her eyes and answering every question he asked. Even the dumb ones. That NEVER happens. :) He asked Avee what Danyo was having for lunch. I was praying she wouldn't say "booms" which she normally does, but she just giggled at the silly suggestion from the cute man. Then she said, "Danyo not eats, he dust spits and kicks." Amazingly accurate.

He let her touch and hold little pieces of everything he put on her leg. She picked a pink cast and within moments of it drying she said, "Avee not want pink, I want yellow!"

That's my girl.

As we were walking out, she said loudly to me, "I got a pink catsth fo Trissmas!"

Jumping off a bed and hurting her leg, not walking for a week, being limited for nearly another, falling multiple times a day (this child is like a cat so suddenly being "clumsy" has been very hard on her---Bo on the other hand, is convinced that door frames walk out and trip him regularly), being gimpy, having an owie she couldn't articulate, was ALL worth it for the moment her cast was dry and she heard the cute, funny, man say, "Okay, let's see if you can walk on it." Her eyes lit up and she got a huge grin and I could see the joy exuding from her pores at the prospect of a CHALLENGE. I have never seen a child who loves a challenge more. She did not get that from me. It took her about 10 steps to be completely confident and then she was annoyed by the hovering adults trying to hold her hand.

I'm still somewhat a novice at this parenting thing, but one day I will trust my mother's instinct. I've never been wrong when being "overly" cautious, but I have been wrong when disregarding things, afraid I was being hypersensitive. I need to reteach my brain. It's okay to look stupid when it concerns your children. Aw, who am I kidding? It's okay to look stupid anytime.

Oh yeah, and that little boy Danyo---he's perfect. He sat in his carseat sleeping, talking, cooing, laughing, kicking and spitting for over two hours. They just don't come more perfect than him.

Mr. Smiley
Mcsmileypants.

Randomnimity

I got tagged by TheVasquez3 to do seven random things about me. You can't even believe how hard this is---I can write randomly, but I can't think of random things about me. But here's my try!

1. I don't really make good first impressions. I do sometimes. I do great with brief encounters or "business" transactions, but in a social setting where I am making potential long-term friends, I don't make good first impressions. I think it might be largely due to the fact that I think I'm funnier than I am, or people take me more seriously than I intend to be taken. I also don't bathe regularly. Who knows if that factors in.

2. I have been to Egypt, England, and Puerto Rico, but never to Mexico or Canada.

3. In 2001 I started law school in St. Louis. I stopped after 2 days because I knew I wanted to marry J and at the time, they were mutually exclusive. I don't regret stopping one single bit. I will be going back to school when I'm done with this baby-makin' and rearin' business, and a JD is still in the running. I have a sneaking suspicion that in a few years, I will be even better prepared for the LSAT after several hundred logic debates with Bo and Avee. Even if they are over cereal or dvd's, they've got to be good for something, right?

4. I don't have a belly button.

5. I have an uncanny knack for remembering people's birthdays. Tell me once, and I'll remember it. Except if it's in February or November. Those I have a harder time remembering, but I probably still remember them better than Mrs. Bear.

6. I only talk in my sleep when I'm frustrated or overwhelmed. Hence, the Pillow Talk. When I was in high school I worked at Pizza Hut and on Thursday nights I worked with the nastiest, creepiest, pervert who was always saying awful things to me (had I known what that was called at the time, perhaps I would be a millionaire right now and not sitting at my computer racking my brains for 7 random things...) and every Thursday night, I could be heard saying all sorts of things in my sleep. My brother's girlfriend had to walk past my bedroom at night when she was leaving and on Friday would tell me what colorful things she'd heard the night before. Believe me, you don't want to cross me. In my sleep. I guess.

7. I am drawn to cleaning supplies. I have to deliberately avoid the cleaning supply/air freshener aisle at the store because I ALWAYS want to buy something, even if I don't need it. It was a happy day for me when we moved here and I discovered it would be easiest to have a toilet cleaner and toilet scrubber for each of our bathrooms rather than hauling one set back and forth as needed. I noticed today that I'm almost out of the downstairs bathroom's Lysol bowl cleaner, so I'm pretty excited about that.

I am going to tag Glittersmama to help with the everyday post thing in November and Leslie because I think she's cool and pretty much that's it because Danyo's crying and Avee's tired of comforting him for me.

On Gay Marriage and God

For the most part, this blog is without bipartisanshipfullness, strong opinions, a lot of religion, etc. I don't do it deliberately, but since I mostly write about my kids, there's not a whole lot to say about politics and religion.

Until now.

On the way to preschool Bo asked me what would happen if a girl married a girl or a boy married a boy. Quickly I had a preview conversation in my head and opted out on introducing the word "homosexual" into my 4-year-old's vocabulary. Who knows when that would come back as a "what the hay-oh?!" at the dinner table? I took the cowardly route and said, "I'm not sure Bo."

So he came up with his own answer. As he often does when I'm not on the ball enough to answer his endless questions.

"Well, I know. You'd just have to say, "Girl, yoh married to the wrong pohson, you need to marry a boy if you really want to be married. Besides, who will be the dad if you marry a girl!"

People can say we indoctrinate, but I contend, some just come already wired.

On religion; Recently I started enforcing a rule that the kids can only watch church movies or Veggie Tales on Sundays. It was my hope that they'd be annoyed by the restriction and opt to watch nothing.

Instead, Bo spent most of Sunday trying to work out a way that Spiderman and Venom could be churchy. "How about if the movie has someone named Mary in it? Then can it be a church movie?"

A few years ago I got these bible story videos at a garage sale. It was a definite highlight when we discovered that Kathy Lee G!fford sings the intro song on all of them. They are very...
interesting. But the kids love them and they do tell the stories I'd like for them to know. Bo's favorite about a year ago was David and Goliath. He couldn't get enough of it.

Avee discovered it on Sunday. The second the finale song starts to play, she's begging to watch it again.

Only, she calls the video "god".

We have no idea why.

On Sunday, after watching it once, J couldn't get the video to rewind so he popped in the one about Jesus' miracles instead.

Not a good idea.

"I waaaaaaaant go-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d, Avee not wike Jeeeeeeesus, take out Jesus, I want god!"

You can probably understand why we took our time doing as she asked. It's just funny to hear a two year old wail, "I neeeeeeed gooooooooooood."

"I'm not quite that much of a sissy"

On Friday night J worked until about 8:30. On his way home (about a 15-20 minute drive) he hit a deer. Or rather, a deer hit him. The headlight was smashed, his already banged up hood was banged up a little more, and the left side of his windshield completely smashed.

He was okay, and for that we are grateful. Truly.

If you are concerned about the deer or wonder what happened to it, perhaps you shouldn't be reading this blog. I'm just sayin'.

Being the super-efficient and caring wife that I am, I talked down the price on a windshield and had a new one in place by noon on Monday. Despite the $200 chunk out of our bank account, we were happy. Jay had a nice new windshield, worth approximately 5 times more than his entire car, and we wouldn't have to drive him to work in the morning.

This morning he left to the normal and incessant shouts of "ByeILoveyuh, byeloveyuh, byeloveyuh!" from Bo (a whole 'nother post in an of itself), Avee wailing because I wouldn't put Dora in at the crack of dawn because I have to maintain some semblance of sanity for at least 12 more hours, and Danyo cooing and singing just as cute as cute can be.

10 minutes later J calls me to tell me that his unlatched hood flew up and smashed into the windshield and cracked it all over again.

Not even 24 hours old.

I wanted to throw up.

I didn't.

J couldn't get the hood to latch so he drove back home and had us take him to work. We really like the man so that part was enjoyable. Bo wasn't so keen on the hard, hard, work of putting on shoes and as a result got grounded from the computer for the day. When simple tasks stop being insurmountable, perhaps he will get computer privileges back.

When I jumped into the passenger seat, I looked at J's face to try and get a read on how he was feeling. I didn't see him looking like he wanted to throw up, like me, so I thought I'd give him a lead to open up and just let it all out. "Doesn't this just make you want to cry?"

To which he replied, "I'm not quite that much of a sissy, but it is really depressing."

Putting any more money into this car, while beloved and has saved us tons of money (in lack of break-ins, if nothing else) would be silly. So I guess we are in the market for a new beater car.

Ugh.

In Which I Ramble

I have to confess, I was ready to quit this crazy train. Most of the weekend I was pretty sure my next post was going to be "Siyanora Senoritas".

Because I'm trilingual.

It isn't you, it's me.

I hoped we could still be friends.

I just feel like there are so many things in my life that I need to be focusing on and improving on and implementing into my daily routine, and I can't seem to get it all done. And it seems that reducing my blogging time would help. But that's just crazy talk, isn't it?

I don't spend nearly the same amount of time blogging or reading blogs that I used to. There simply aren't enough hours in the day, and no other reason.

I realize I depend on this outlet to approach life in a more positive way. I can laugh about things my kids do, because it's all potential blog fodder. I can look at the world a little differently, because every experience is a potential post. I like the lens that blogging has given me. So, I'm not stopping. But I think it will be more sparse, just until I get this whole juggling act of day to day life down a little more.

Plus I'm trying to potty train Avee. Need I say more? I bought M&Ms, I've made a chart, I pulled out the stickers, I've got the super-duper-big-girl-potty-dance routine down, I can cheer over a toilet bowl like you have never seen a person cheer, plastic pants-check, incessant talk about going potty in the toilet-check...

Only thing missing is Avee. She's not on board. She can't be bothered. And cleaning up a puddle of pee off the bathroom floor is kind of fun for her. She told me yesterday she was "broken" when I told her to try to go to the bathroom. Terribly sorry ma, but I'm broken, there will be no toilet usage today, please pass me a diaper...

That's really all I had to say. "I wuz gonna quit, but now I ain't, and I'm tired of buying diapers." Fascinating, I know.

Bo started playing basketball on Saturday. He's not quite 4 and a half. He hasn't ever really showed a whole lot of interest in athletic-type things, so I was curious how it would go.

Without a doubt the single most entertaining hour of my week. Month. Possibly year. He's the adorable boy in the too-big jersey doing pirouettes on the court. He managed a decent dribble (left-handed, interestingly enough) but the one time he had the ball to take down the court, he tucked it and ran. His defense stance was to put his hands on his head like horns. When the ball changed teams and everyone ran to the other basket, he thought it was a race and ran accordingly. He ran over and gave me a hug twice in the middle of his game. I'm certain that at least half of the game he was pretending he was Mario in his head, hopping, zipping, leaping, dodging, all a good three feet away from the game he was supposed to be playing.

I loved every second of it. He loved it too. Afterwards we went to the store to buy him some new tennis shoes. It was fun to spend time with just him, he often gets talked over by Avee, and I had forgotten how talkative and random he can be.

On our way to the store he brought up the topic of moms and dads having children. He was curious about who has children and when they have children. I explained that his dad and I used to be kids, but we grew up and became adults and got married and then we had him and Avee and Danyo. He seemed satisfied with my explanation about the origins of children.

An hour and a half later, driving home, this conversation took place.

Me: I think Dad's going to really like your new shoes, they are pretty cool.
Bo: Yeah, I think Dad's going to kiss them when he sees them because they are probably just like what he used to have in high school.
Me: Oh my goodness you are funny.
Bo: (sounding somewhat concerned and troubled) I just don't know who's going to be my kids when I grow up!

I guess he wasn't done with that conversation. Socially he seems to be going through a lot and trying to figure a lot of things out. He's dealing with kids at school who don't want to be his friend or he doesn't want to be friends with and probably has a bit of anxiety about rejection---the first time he's really faced it or felt it.

So, the poor kid is sitting in the back of my minivan, in his booster seat, having anxiety about who will agree to be his children when he grows up and gets married.

I didn't tell him finding a cute redhead to marry him would be the hard part. The cute redhaired children come waaaaaaaaaaay easier.

All Three of Them Have My Number

First:

Danyo has terrible gas. Not so terrible for us (although my friend Kiki might disagree---she was sure a dog had suddenly died and rotted for a week out of nowhere under her couch when we were visiting and Danyo had a little "bout") but awful for him. I try to be careful of what I eat, but it seems that the only thing he doesn't have trouble with is ice cream. And I just can't be forced to eat that for every meal. Oh wait. Yes I can.

Our faux Halloween night Pho done him in. He's been working hard. Today he was napping and started crying. I picked him up, not sure if it was gas bothering him or he was waking up. Often they are one in the same. Sadly. Anyway, he kept his eyes closed and calmed right down. I rocked him gently for a few minutes and went to set him back down. His eyes popped open like one of those crazy eye-closing dolls the second he felt himself being let go. And he started screaming. I swooped him back up. Rocked and soothed a little longer. His eyes were closed the entire time. He looked so sweet and peaceful. And sleeping. I put him down. Wide eyed screaming out of nowhere. FIVE TIMES he did this to me. Normally I wouldn't play the game so long, but I wanted to see how far he'd take it. He kept his eyes closed anytime I was holding him, and he looked like he'd just drank a 40 oz Mt Dew every time I went to put him down. I swear I saw him smiling when his eyes were closed.

Second:
My friend Jen's little 3 year old tells her, "You're not my best friend" when she is mad at her mom. I always get a kick out of that when she tells me about it. And I started wondering if/when Avee would be like that, or if she even knew what a "best friend" was. So I asked her, about a month ago---"Do you have a best friend?" Without a moment's hesitation she snapped at me, "NO! Avee not have a besth fwiend!"
"Isn't mommy your best friend?"
"NO!"

So I chalked it up to her not knowing what a BF was. I mean, look at me guys, surely I would be it if she knew what a best friend was.

Sunday, driving home from church, she announces quite sentimentally, "Say-wuh is me beeeeeesth fwiend, I woff her."

And today while watching Little Mermaid she exclaims again "Oh, le'maid is my besth fwiend."

I lost out to a half-naked animation who totally dies her hair red, that can't be natural.

And Third:

About a month ago when I was working on organizing the basement, Bo stepped on a microscopic piece of glass. It was much like an unanesthetized amputation. In his mind. And our ears. Since then, he's avoided the basement. Rather than put on a pair of shoes and avoid a repeat mishap, he just shuns the basement altogether. When he sees someone open the door to the basement stairs he gets all worked up and frantically yells, "DO YOU HAVE YOUR SHOES ON!?!?!"

Today I was down there switching out some laundry and he yells down to me.

"Mom, are you downstairs?"
"Yes, I'm doing some laundry."
"DO YOU HAVE YOUR SHOES ON!?!?!"
"Yes Bo," I lie. It's just easier. I promise.
Sort of mournfully, "Ohhhhh, I really want to be near you, but I just can't come downstairs. Could you come up here?"

I ask you, who could resist that kind of request?
"I'll be right up!"

Smiling sheepishly when I reappear from the death trap of glass shards below, "There you are! Could you set up Cartoon Legwohk dot com foh me?

I realized today that whatever delusions I have of being in charge, are a complete waste of my time.