Saturday, August 30, 2008

Why People Hate Mommyblogging

Bear with me here. I just changed the diaper of my second son - C. It was dirty. As I set it aside to clean him up, I noticed a glint of metal amongst the poo.

A mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do. And for those of you reading who do not have children yet, I hate to break this to you. Sometimes, you have to inspect the poo.

Now that you're hanging on the edge of your seat, I'll tell you what it was. A pop top. Likely from the top of one of my Coke cans. I am now officially the world's worst mom.

I hope you weren't eating anything while reading this. I apologize. Thank you for your forgiveness. And thank you for not reporting me to SRS. Have a great Labor Day!


Friday, August 22, 2008

Okay, so she gets it.

G & M in the car on the way home from school today: Can we have dinner at McDonald's?

Me: No. I don't think so. We'll have something better than McDonald's.

M: If you don't let us go to McDonald's, I will follow you around all day and ask you 200 questions.

Me: Ha, that's good. But, really, how would that be different than any other day?

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Wise Beyond Her Years

This evening, M started dance class again. This will be her third year. It is the first year that she has taken an evening class. And, thus, it is the first year without her beloved Miss Marilynn.

Miss Marilynn has been the sweetest, kindest teacher. She loves on M. And on G and C and H. Her children are grown and she dotes on my kids. On all of the kids really.

On the way home from dance, I asked M who her new teacher was. "I don't remember her name."

And then, "I'm not so sure that this dance class is going to be good, Mom."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know why Miss Marilynn couldn't be the teacher."

I explained AGAIN that Miss Marilynn only teaches during the daytime and now that M is at school all day, she can only do dance in the evening.

"I am just going to miss Miss Marilynn. [pause] Sometimes, Mom, I don't really like change."

"I know baby. Nobody does. It always works out in the end though."

Heavy sigh. It's a hard lesson to learn - change - no matter if you're 5 or 35 (okay, so I'm 36 but who's counting?).

Getting There...

We've been working for years (literally, years) with G on his conversational skills. It doesn't come easily to him but he's getting much better. Anyway, he apparently tried a cool, casual greeting with his sister yesterday at school. They each reported it to me separately but identically.

M was standing with her class in the "car rider" line at dismissal. G left his class to find her as they (obviously) ride together. Upon reaching her, G tapped her on the back and said,

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyyy little bro! What's up?!"

Upon hearing this, I asked him why he called her "little bro"? His response:

"Uh, because she's my little sister, mom."

Apparently, the "duh" at the end was just implied. And M's response? An equally nonsensical:

"I am NOT your little sister. I am a big sister."

To which I replied:

"You are, in fact, G's little sister. You are C and H's big sister."

"Oh."

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

12 Months Later

Sigh. School started Monday. All is well. Corn dogs in the cafeteria are a hit. Teachers are nice. The kindergarten class has a pet guinea pig named Albert. Don't know much about 1st grade because my son won't discuss it beyond "it was good."

But look at what happened to my children. In one measly year. They grew. Damnit. How does that happen?



Last year: Cute. Preppy. Short.


This year: Cute. Preppy. Not short. (He is wearing the same shorts though.)



Last year: Cute. Spunky. Teeny!


This year: Cute. Spunky (not sure where the glamour pose came from). And not even close to teeny. (Also? Same shoes as last year.)

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Madness

School starts on Monday. Yikes! Today, we picked up everyone's school supplies. Tomorrow, we get class assignments and meet the teachers. Yesterday, though, was the biggest task of all. Back-to-school haircuts.

And I scheduled all four of them at the same time. Mind you, the babies have never had their hair cut anywhere outside of my bathroom counter. But C's hair was turning into the Little Dutch Boy. Or Javier Bardem from No Country for Old Men. Both? Are creepy.





Anyway, where was I?

Oh! Haircuts 1 through 4. Here's a photo montage:


Still a few lingering sensory issues. But nothing so bad that it would interrupt his video game.




And after. Did I mention that his teeth are falling out at an alarming rate?!



Yes, M was there too. Watched Shrek and talked the stylist's ear off. Shocking, I know.



"Before" - everything's okay with a sucker. Funny cape? Sucker. Scissors? Sucker. Hair falling in face? Sucker. Hair falling onto sucker? Sucker. Electric trimmer? Who gives a crap, I've got a friggin' sucker, people.



He was watching Dora. And notice the sucker spit on his cape.



"After" - with sucker.



Kicked back. Arm hangin out. Wearing a pink cape. Waiting to get the pompadour cut off. And the mullet curls in the back. It was a sweet look while it lasted.



And yes. A sucker. If only he was still leaning out the side of the car with that stick hanging out of his mouth. A perfectly white T vignette.


And "after." I think he ended up eating about half the lollipop stick. You know how mushy they get after a 19 month old chews on them for a half hour? Delicious.




Three out of four ain't bad. H wouldn't cooperate for a group pic. He's anti-authority lately. Damn the Man.


Friday, August 8, 2008

Money, Money, Money

First conversation of the morning with my 6 year old son:

G: Mom, when I get a million dollars, I am going to get the Lego Imperial Star Destroyer instead of the AT-TE Walker.

Me: Okay. How are you going to get a million dollars?

G: Well, I have a five dollar bill.

Me: Right. But that's not a million dollars. That's five dollars. How will you get a million?

G: I guess I'll have to lose a lot of teeth?






AT-TE Walker - $89.99



Imperial Star Destroyer - not quite a million dollars but a healthy $199.99

Friday, August 1, 2008

They're Bakugans. Duh.


These, my friends, are Bakugans. Ba-koo-gahnz. They are, unsurprisingly, Japanese.

Also unsurprising, my son's love for them. They have introduced a whole new language to our house. One that I try to ignore. It includes "words" like robotallion, darkus, serpenoid, falconeer, pyrus, aquus and ohmygodi'mgoingtokillmyselfifihearonemorethingaboutfreakinbakugan. Okay, so the last one is mine.




If anyone has any questions about these bizarr-o things, let me know and I'm sure I can get you an answer from G. That is, if M lets him open his mouth before butting in to answer.

Also? [whisper]They're really kinda cool. Don't tell my kids I said that.[/whisper]