My son peed on the DVD player

I can't even believe I just wrote that sentence. But yes, Little Boy peed on the DVD player.

Fortunately it wasn't plugged in at the time.

Why did he do it? To annoy his sister, of course.

And also because the desire to pee on things seems to be genetically inborn in males.

Hence this annoyingly ubiquitous bumper sticker:

http://www.absurdnoize.com

And you can even go to the website above and have this little guy pee on anything you want!

I don't need to. I have my own little guy.

My son is rolling in the dough

Little Boy wanted me to buy him a new video game for his Leap Frog.

I told him those games cost money. So he brought me this:

 

 

And yeah, you guessed it! He got the game he wanted.

 

Just for being so stinking cute!

The Weekend Update

What happened to us over the weekend?

1. The twins went to two different birthday parties. They were completely nutso on both occasions. Fortunately such behavior is encouraged at Chuck E. Cheese's.

Image from nashvillefunforfamilies.com

2. I actually cut my tongue trying to lick frosting out of a nearly-empty tub. I only noticed when the white frosting turned reddish. There's got to be a lesson there somewhere.

Image from caloriecount.about.com

3. Boo single-handedly ate that entire case of pomegranates I bought at Costco. I'm not even kidding. The kid should have enough antioxidants in her now to acquire some kind of super-powers.

Image from www.smoothie-handbook.com

How's that for a random bunch of stories?

Extreme Tattling

The twins went to play upstairs in their room. Five minutes later, Little Boy was tattling on his sister.

"Mommy! Little Girl is playing in Boo and GG's room!"

(They know they are not supposed to play in their older sisters' rooms.)

So I went up there and found her yelling at him, from the forbidden room, "I told you! Don't tell Mommy I went in here!!!!"

"I told Mommy," Little Boy said virtuously to his twin.

Then he turned to me. "Also she pooped in the potty and didn't wipe her bottom."

BAZINGA!

Little Boy's Special Gift

Little Boy, my four-year-old, received a present at a holiday party packed in a gift bag.

He removed the decorative paper from the top of the bag and asked me, "What's this?"

"That's tissue," I said.

He looked at it, puzzled, and wandered off.

I heard him ask another woman at the party, "Is this tissue?" She confirmed that it was. Then he came back to show me the paper, and he asked me again, "Is this tissue?"

I told him it was, and he left again.

A few minutes later he was back. He handed me the paper. "Is this tissue?" he asked.

I took the paper and said with exaggerated patience. "Yes, Little Boy. It's tissue."

"Good," he said. "Because I sneezed in it."

(Image from http://blog.pkids.org)

Is There an Award For This?

Little Boy came out the other day in this outfit he'd apparently made himself.

ET says we could win the White Trash Clothing award with this one.

The Recorder Incident: A Story Told From Two Perspectives

(image from www.doctorramey.com)

I woke up one morning to see Little Boy in my room taking off his pajamas, informing me nonchlantly "There's pee on these," as he kicked the PJ pants across my room. As I dragged myself out of bed, he cheerily returned to his room and brought in all his soiled bedding as well, adding the blankets to the pile of wet clothes.

While I was stuffing all of that into the laundry basket, ready to wash, Little Boy went rummaging in his room and emerged with a recorder.

Remember the recorder? That piercing, shreiking, whistle-like instrument they teach you to play in elementary school? The twins each received one on their last birthday from a nice neighbor. (I'll get her back one day...)

Anyways, he came out playing the recorder at top volume, "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!" Repeatedly. As I may have mentioned, the sound of this instrument has an icepick-to-the-ear feel to it.

I decided to ignore it and continue to get ready. At this point in my life, I'm getting to be a master at ignoring annoying sounds, by the way. Could that be my superpower? I went into the bathroom so I could get dressed.

I could still hear the recorder blasting outside the bathroom door. "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!" Over and over. Then I heard another door forcefully opening, stomping feet coming, and Little Boy yelling.

"ET hit me!" he said. I figured his 16-year-old sister had come out of the other bathroom where she was getting ready for school and had popped him on the head to make him stop playing.

He kept playing of course. "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!" "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!"

A minute or so later I heard the door-slamming-open/stomping-feet-approaching combo again.

Little Boy yelled, "She took my whistle!" I wondered why she hadn't done that in the first place, to be honest.

So silence reigned momentarily.

ET's story:

ET was in the bathroom putting on her makeup when she heard the recorder starting up. "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!" "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!"

She tried to ignore it. "It's okay," she told herself. "Mom will make him stop soon."

But the high-pitched, earsplitting noise just kept on.

(image from yahoo.com)

Finally she stomped out of the bathroom and saw her four-year-old brother, compleltely naked in the hallway, crouching down and aiming the recorder under the bathroom door as he played the same sharp note over and over and over.

She took the recorder from him, conked him on the head with it, and went back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Only a moment later, she heard the sound again. "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!" "Tweet! Tweet! TWEET!"

"WHAT?!" she thought. "He's got another one?!"

(Remember my well-meaning neighbor? An instrument for each twin!)

So ET slammed her way out of the bathroom again and took the second recorder away.

...And silence momentarily reigned.

You Can't Play That Here

My four-year-old son is getting in trouble at preschool for playing a forbidden game.

I asked the teacher about it, because he kept getting a frowny face in his take-home folder, and for two days in a row she had written down "gun."

The teacher said, "He's been taking a block and pretending it is a G-U-N. He was even making the sound with his mouth! Also another child began to imitate him!"

(image from http://165.201.143.141/)

I tried to look suitably shocked. Little boys pretending to shoot guns?! Oh the horror!

She explained further. "I redirected their play, and I showed him that the block can be a tower or a house, but that it is inappropriate to use it as a G-U-N. But then a few minutes later..." She paused here and added very gravely, "He was doing it again."

Again I tried to match her grave expression. Well, I mean, I tried to keep a straight face.

It was difficult.

I understand the school's policy is against violent play. I really do, and I will back the teacher up 100% on that. (Little Boy didn't get his being-good-at-school-treat that day.)

However... I can't really get all that worked up about it. Maybe it's because I'm from Alabama.

Also, here's the thing: Little boys pretend to shoot guns. Kids play war. They just DO, okay?

And, let's get real here: Most of the kids at this preschool are from military homes. Their families' livelihoods are actually BASED on war.

So excuse me if I'm not at DEFCON ONE when my son aims a block at someone and says, "Pow! Pow!"

Sorry, folks!

Preschool Gymnastics

The twins go to a preschool gymnastics class on Friday afternoons.

They really like it, and I really like having them tire themselves out while somebody else has to watch them. This is why I'm willing to pay for a college student "coach" to do things like teach them the hokey-pokey and let them jump on a trampoline for forty-five minutes.

A couple of weeks ago, however, there was a little problem. I was sitting in the nice quiet parents' waiting area working on my laptop and the twins appeared in front of me yelling, "Mommy! Mommy!"

I looked up in astonishment as the coach came running behind them. "They want you to take them to the bathroom," she explained, slightly winded from chasing the twin terrors.

I raised my eyebrows at her. The twins jumped up and down yelling excitedly, "Mommy! I have to go POTTY!"

Correctly interpreting my expression, the coach said, "I can take them myself, but they want you."

"We want YOU Mommy! We want YOU!" the twins echoed.

I looked at the coach. "I can watch your laptop?" she suggested helpfully. I gave in and took the twins to the bathroom, but I wasn't happy about it.

After all, I did the math. I'm paying almost fifteen bucks an hour PER KID for this class. For that amount of money, the coach should be able to take them to the potty and LEAVE ME ALONE. But I let it go for the moment.

Then it happened again the next week. I had been sitting peacefully at my laptop less than five minutes before they appeared in front of me again, bouncing and yelling. They didn't even use the potty excuse this time; they just yelled ,"Mommy! Mommy!" and looked pleased with themselves.

The coach came puffing up behind them. It was obvious they had escaped without her knowledge this time. I thought to myself, "Oh, HECK no! This stops right now."

There followed a charming scene in which I dragged the twins back into their class in full view of all the horrified moms and dads. Little Girl in particular screamed and cried in protest most convincingly. The coach followed us, looking on in round-eyed shock. I set my face grimly and deposited the shreiking, struggling pair in class where the other kids and the assistant coach also stared at us.

I shut the gate to the preschool area and marched back to my laptop, ignoring Little Girl wailing behind me as the coach tried to cheerily cajole her back into the circle. Everyone in the parents' area tried to pretend they hadn't just witnessed Horrible Mean Mommy Drags Twins to Gymnastics Class and avoided my eyes.

In my defense, Little Girl quit crying almost right after I disappeared from her view and it was no longer to her advantage to appear traumatized. And they both STAYED IN CLASS.

I groused to myself about the coach letting the kids escape like that. But the truth is, I can't keep track of them either.

Here's Little Boy escaping from the backyard. I can't take my eyes off the twins for a second!

Unless I'm paying someone ELSE not to take her eyes off them....

Noodle Ball 2012?

My kids got a little plastic "kaleidescope" as a party favor.

Apparently Little Boy thought it was a good idea to fill it up with gummy fruit snacks.

This reminds me of the Noodle Ball incident of last year. (To read about Noodle Ball, click here.)

As before, he was surprised by the fact that we couldn't get the food back out of the tiny plastic hole he'd shoved it in.

It seems like this is some kind of recurring theme. Stay tuned for the 2013 version.....

What My Correspondence Looks Like

Following is an email I sent my husband while he was out of town. (I like to give him a taste of what he's missing at home when he's gone.)

Hi. A story for the day:

Today after I got home from picking up everyone I was super tired so I took the twins upstairs to play in their room, hoping to lie down while they did.

Little Girl said she had to go peepee. I took her in the upstairs bathroom and went back to Little Boy. Then she came and said there was pee on her dress. (She dropped her sash in the potty.)

(Image from http://www.business2community.com)

I took the dress off and went to get her a new one, and she went back to sit on the potty some more. ("There's poopoo too!") Little Boy said he needed to go too, so I told him to go wait in the bathroom for her to get done.

 

 

When I came back with her dress, Little Boy was yelling that his sister was naked. I told him she got pee on her clothes and I was getting her new ones. He said there was pee on his clothes too. I checked his pants and they were dry. He said there was pee on his underwear. So I said I would get him new underwear.

When I came back with the underwear, he had removed all his clothes, piled them on the floor, and was in the process of peeing on them. "There's pee on my clothes Mommy!" he said proudly.

 

 

I screamed, Stop Stop STOP!!!! of course. Then I still had to re-dress him, and make him wait his turn for the potty.

We won't even mention the scene of me trying to take a nap while they screamed and threw things in their room.

 

 

Fun, huh? Wish you were here?

Love you, Christie

They're Officially Not Babies Anymore

The twins turned four over the weekend.

We had a BLOWOUT party: bouncy house, face-painting, bubble machine, cupcakes, and Hawaiian punch. I think I invited like forty kids.

Fortunately they didn't all come.

We settled on the "carnival" theme since it's difficult to have a superhero AND princess-themed party.

These balloons are Disney Princess on one side and Spiderman on the other.

Anyways, now that the twins are older,  I'm going to stop calling them "the babies" or "Baby Boy and Baby Girl." They don't like it.

For the past several months they've been getting mad when someone calls them babies.

As ET said, "They prefer the term 'agely-challenged'."

So, let me officially introduce my four-year-olds.... THE TWINS!

Little Boy

Little Girl

These are pictures of them eating cupcakes I brought to their preschool class. Yes, I bought bakery cupcakes piled with icing made from artificial, mouth-staining dyes.

You're welcome, Other Preschool Moms.

And by the way, OPM's, thanks for the shredded paper in the class Easter baskets. And the whistles in the Halloween treat bags.

We're even now.

Creativity... and Elmo

Last night I was dressing Baby Boy in his Elmo P.J.'s and I started making up a little song for him.

(This is to the tune of the "Elmo's World" theme song from Sesame Street.)

I started out when I was putting on the pajama pants, "La la la la; La la la la: Elmo pants."

Then I sang, "La la la la; La la la la: Elmo shirt."


Baby Boy looked happy, enjoying the song.

I started feeling impressed with what a creative mom I was. It's like, Oh yeah, I'm cool. Watch me, I'm the Playful Parent.


(image from http://www.alexrappoport.com)

I sang, "Elmo loves his jammies, and you do too!"

I poked my little boy in the tummy and he smiled.


We geared up for the big finish to the song. Baby Boy began singing with me.

We sang, "That's Elmo's--"

My son grinned triumphantly and replaced the last word with a loud, "POOP!" before collapsing into giggles at his own witticism.

Ah, the humor of the three-year-old.

Noodle Ball

Last night I made dinner before leaving for my hula class.

When I came home the dishes were waiting for me. (Nice to know I was missed.)

And this....

Noodle Ball!

Apparently Baby Boy stuffed all his noodles from dinner into this wiffle ball. Then he couldn't get them out.

Neither could I, for that matter.

I guess it's either wait for the noodles to dry up and fall out, or throw the whole ball away.

A Sad Story Featuring Broccoli

My son doesn’t eat enough food.

Weird, huh? I don’t know where he got THAT from!

When he had his last check-up, we discovered he was underweight, and pretty far behind his twin, who is the height and weight of an average three-year-old.

Over the past month and a half since then I’ve been working on ways to get him to eat more.

The problem is, he’s just not that interested in food.

Again, I don’t know WHERE he got that from!

We’ve been back and forth to the doctor so they can watch his weight gain and we’ll be seeing a dietitian later this month.

He has been doing better and gaining a little, especially since he started taking an appetite stimulant.

Yep. I said "appetite stimulant." Can you believe that?

I'm thinking, can you just prescribe me the OPPOSITE of that? Please?!

But I digress.

I’ve been keeping a chart of everything he’s eating and how much so I can show the dietitian. It looks pretty sparse, and it’s mostly noodles, rice and bread.

Also Ensure, to try to increase his caloric intake.

(Words I never thought I’d need to use together, by the way: “increase” and “caloric intake!”)

So tonight I was really excited when he suddenly started eating the broccoli I put on his plate.

I’ve been putting things like vegetables on his plate for decoration I suppose, since he’s never done anything with them.

First he nibbled on it. Then he ate the whole floret and reached for another one. He pronounced it “good.”

My husband and I were so excited.

He ate his whole serving and asked for more.

Ecstatic, we heaped more broccoli on his plate.

He took another floret and put the whole thing in his mouth.

He smiled and chewed and swallowed.

My husband and I beamed at each other. I anticipated writing down how many broccoli florets he’d eaten on his food chart. I imagined telling the dietitian that my son LOVED broccoli.

Then he threw up.

He threw up the broccoli, and all the Ensure, and the noodles he’d had for lunch.

A whole day’s painstakingly charted caloric intake was now spread all over the table and wasted.

It was awful.

He started saying, "I sick!" and "Yuck! Broccoli!" I tried to point out that the broccoli probably wasn't to blame, but I think it was futile.

There goes my dream of impressing the dietitian.

Sigh.

The Dreaded Big Kid Bed

I think I’ve just heard the tolling of the death knell for naptime.

It’s called The Introduction of the Big Kid Bed.

I’ve been dreading it.

I’ve seen this before. First the kid learns how to get out of his/her crib. Then you say to yourself, “Well, I suppose it’s time for the Transition to the Big Kid Bed.”

And THEN you spend every bedtime and naptime forcing the child to remain in his/her bed. Until you finally give up on naptime and just settle for making the kid sleep at night, which is definitely NON negotiable.

Well, let me just say, the whole thing is much worse with twins, which is why I tried to stave it off as long as possible with the crib tents.

But now that Baby Boy has figured out how to tunnel out of his crib tent and roam freely about the bedroom….well, we can’t put it off any longer.

He’s in The Big Kid Bed.

The other one will follow soon enough.

So long, naptime!

Sigh.

Baby Boy is REALLY tired!

Baby Boy feel asleep standing up today.

I'm not kidding.

We came back from a birthday party at a bouncy-gym kind of place and he was pretty tired. He stood there with his shoes on his feet, put his face on the couch, and sacked out.

Now if only his sister could have followed his example...

That's Not Trash!

The twins like to throw things away.

Some of the things are even trash.

I gave them their own small trash can so they can throw away things they find on the floor, such as their sisters' discarded wrappers, or old paper napkins.

I even labeled it, "Baby Trash Can," in an effort to keep other people in the family from putting things in there.

Because sometimes they throw away things they are not trash, which is why they have their own can. That way I can inspect the contents before taking out the trash, and rescue any odd objects in there.

I've often found sippy cups or silverware in there. I guess they figure: once I'm done using it, I should throw it away.

Which is nice and sort-of hygenic of the twins, but I have to remind them, "That's not trash!"

But we've had other strange things found in the baby trash can.

What is this, you may ask? Well, let's rewind a bit to find out.

 Aha! Here we see Baby Boy shoving AN ENTIRE ROLL of paper towels into the trash.

Where did he get it, you might wonder?

So it was a brand new roll of paper towels that he and his twin sister got from under the counter, unwrapped, unrolled completely, and threw away.

Once again, that's not trash!

But the weirdest thing I found in the baby trash can was this:

Can you see what's nestled there, between the empty Jell-O container and the discarded zip-loc bag?

Would you like a closer look?

That's right! It's a $10 bill! Amazing.

That's NOT trash!

But it's mine now....

An Independent Boy

Baby Boy is very independent.

He likes doing things for himself was much as he possibly can, including putting his shoes on and off, climbing in and out of his crib, and getting into and out of his booster seat.

He also prefers to fasten his own safety belt in his stroller or booster seat. (He also fastens it back after he gets out, but that’s another story.)

It takes him a little longer, but he really likes doing it himself. If you try to do any of this stuff for him, prepare for a major fit.

He’s recently decided to take over more aspects of dressing as well.

He particularly enjoys undressing, which is easier than getting dressed. He likes to spend naptimes doing this. Many times I’ve looked in his room during nap to find him completely naked, and asleep.

Of course, the results of this preoccupation are often quite messy.

And if you’re wondering about the solution to naptime diaper removal I mentioned a few months ago, he’s learned to get his diaper off even when it’s duct-taped on.

He’s a clever clever boy.

Anyways, in an effort to give him managed independence, I’ve been going along with most of his do-it-myself ideas, and trying to let him do as many thing as he can. Sometimes this requires a lot of patience!

Today he put on his own shorts. As you can see if you look closely, he’s not only got both legs crammed in one leg of his shorts, he‘s also got them on upside down.

With a little assistance, however, he fixed it.

Here he is yelling “YAY!”

One day I had an idea that didn’t go very well, however. I offered him a choice between two shirts. My other kids all enjoyed choosing between two outfits, and I thought Baby Boy would too.

I held up a red shirt and a white shirt. He pointed to the red shirt. I put the red shirt on him and prepared to return the white shirt to the drawer.

“NO! NO!” he yelled.

Okay, I thought. So I took the red shirt off him and put the white shirt on. He seemed happy, but when I went to put the red shirt back in the drawer…

“NO! NO!” he yelled.

I was stymied for a moment. Then I put the red shirt on over the white shirt.

“YAY!” he yelled, overjoyed.

(May I remind everyone we live on a tropical island, and NO ONE needs to sport extra layers here!)

He was a little warm that day, but I guess I learned something about offering unnecessary choices.

Sometimes there can be a little too much independence, I guess.

Is There a Special Virus for Redheads?

So, we’ve got two sickies in the house right now.

And both of them have red hair.

Yesterday, Baby Boy wasn’t interested in eating much. Even when there was cake and ice cream. (We were at a birthday party.)

Then when we got home in the evening he threw up in the kitchen.

This resulted in the flurry of activity that always happens when a toddler throws up: trying to get the kid and the area cleaned up before he/she makes it worse by walking through the puddle, and without getting too much vomit on anyone else.

These problems are compounded when you have twins: that means there’s automatically another toddler ready to tramp through the mess, smear it around, and/or drop toys in it.

Also Baby Boy was crying hysterically because he’s still too little to understand why his stomach is involuntarily throwing its contents out. It’s a little scary when you’re two years old.

Anyways, as soon as we got him cleaned up the other kids started up with the, “My stomach hurts too.”

Hmmm. Sunday evening tummy aches. Could this feeling of illness have anything to do with the imminent threat of school Monday morning?

But I guess it turns out one of them actually meant it, because after the girls were in bed, GG called from the bedroom, “Boo’s barfing!”

Both of them seem to be better today, but it does seem odd that the illness only struck those two kids, out of the five.

Is it the Curse of the Red-headed Virus?

Could be. Those two do share an uncommon bond.