My Time Out Corner

2009-10-26T07:15:00.000-07:00

when babies attack

2009-10-25T07:19:00.000-07:00

Once the dear husband was over his bug, it was Caveman's turn to get sick.

Thursday night he walks into our room complaining of a sore mouth. This was highly unusual because he never - and I mean never - has gotten out of his bed in the middle of the night. Even now, at almost 4 years old, he'll occasionally call for us to get him out of his bed. Weird, I know.

I gave him some meds but that didn't really do the trick...even after we tried to get him to sleep in our bed (again, something we have never done, ever)...he kicked, tossed, turned and moaned and groaned. Finally at some point during the night we all fell asleep, and he miraculously slept until 8:30.

But in the meantime....it was Return of the Mouse Gang. Backstory: last year (starting around this time) we had a semi-infestation of mice in the house. We live in a 40+ year old house with a drafty basement and our backyard is many acres of woods. So, we know that we're going to get a wee mouse here or there. But last year's invasion was incredible. They chewed through the wires of the kitchen radio, the coffee maker, the espresso maker, and the toaster oven. We tried glue traps and they merely dragged their bodies all over, getting mouse hair and crap everywhere until they broke free. One crawled back into a crack in the wall with the trap still attached; one flipped itself into Caveman's Play Doh craft table. They run rampant in the crawlspace behind our bed and keep us awake at night. At one point we would put a lamp in the crawlspace,hoping that the light would scare them away (nope). We can hear them scratching, running and squeaking all night long. It was (and is nasty nasty nasty). We finally had my father set some traps - he's the self-proclaimed Mouse Hunter - and at the peak we were catching 2 or 3 a night. They are not just winter time creatures, though: in September I found one asleep on the arm of the couch...it freaked me out to no end so I had a neighbor come over and remove it. We keep the house immaculate, and they never get into food (thankfully)....but it's part of living life in New England, I think (and way better than the roaches we had in Georgia).

Anyway I say all of this to say that as soon as we got Caveman back into bed for the first time we heard a mouse running, banging and apparently moving furniture in the crawlspace. It was making such a racket that we were thinking it was something bigger than a mouse. Whatever it was it crawled away and hasn't been heard from since. But we know that this is only the start of mouse season, and we armed and ready with a multitude of snap traps and peanut butter.

The next day I brought Caveman to the doc where they confirmed a substantial double ear infection, which was no surprise. He's had a cough and a leaky nose lately, and the state of his boogers has not been pretty the last few days. I have learned that a lingering cold + nasty boogers + nighttime pain = ear infection. A 14 day course (!) of Amoxicillin and he's on his way to recovery.

I have a cough now, as does the dear husband, so everyone in the house is leaky or coughing in some way. Ah, gotta love the fall.

2009-10-15T17:05:00.000-07:00

Well, I had a blog post started for yesterday...does that count?

Hubby came home from work with a fever last night and it's been hovering at 101+ for over 24 hours. I forced him to the doctor today who ruled out the flu(s) but his temp peaked at 103 at the office. The doc says he's fighting a virus and to just ride it out. So, he's been quarantined to the spare bedroom for the duration of this germ.

The temp hovered around freezing today and some areas actually saw snow. Cold = housebound family = crazy mamma and kids. Caveman and I had a fantastic outing to the pediatrician to sit with the walking wounded, all so we can get his cough checked out (proved to be nothing).

Tomorrow we continue to quarantine Daddy in hopes for a more active weekend!

2009-10-13T11:14:00.000-07:00

Caveman is becoming "that kid", or so I feel. He's a barrel of laughs wherever we go....kids are drawn to him, and adults get a good chuckle out of his antics. But somewhere the lines of funny are crossed and I sense other moms giving me the look of mixed amusement and "better you than me".

Today we went to a nature mini-camp. There's only 4 kids in the class so each child has ample time to answer questions from the teacher. Each child answered the questions appropriately and calmly. When the instructor asked Caveman what lives in the woods we were about to explore, he stood up and said, "There's BEARS and lions and tigers and sharks and bad guys and I am a good guy and I get rid of all the bad guys with fire that shoots from my watch!" Then when asked what makes skunks so unique he answered, "skunks shoot out their tails and they twist and flip and turn and their tails are stinky like a diaper!!"all while wringing his hands to show how a skunk shoots dirty diaper smell.

The other moms were laughing- one even went so far as to tell me my son is "hilarious", which he surely is. I guess like would be a lot less interesting with a inhibited child....

2009-10-12T16:57:00.000-07:00

Knock, knock...anyone there???

Here is my lame attempt at reviving my blog. If you're still here reading, thank you. Please spread the word that I am still around, alive and kicking.

So, what's new? The lump found on my fat dog turned out to be...fat. She was diagnosed with a lypoma,which is a ball of harmless fat that attaches itself to a body part. $600 worth of needles, scalpels,and ridiculous Elizabethan collars to tell me my dog is fat. Yeah.

They found another mass while they were shaving her down and that, too, was biopsied. The abnormal skin that was suspicious was just a scar, likely from her dog attack in 2006 when Caveman was just 4 days old (what a story for another day). Luckily that one only cost us $40.

Caveman is continuing to be lovable and frustrating at the same time. Hubby has been doing some hardcore traveling which leaves me solo for 6, 7 days at a stretch. My sleep is disrupted, my patience wears thin, and when those are mixed with a 3 year old who asks the same question over and over again and pitches fits for no apparent reason...well, these past few weeks haven't been a shining example of good parenting skills. Despite all the snapping and digging deep for just a little more patience, we end each day with a hug and a kiss and I hope that he forgives me for being a cranky mamma.

Junior Miss....2 top teeth, Roseola, crawling. Need I say more? The past week or so has been a little bit of a battle with nighttime sleep - naps are kicking ass but she cries for no reason here and there at night, up to an hour or more. The few times I have gone to check on her, she sees me and laughs, so we have stopped all intervention...but we're still dealing with it. I start to slide back into my not-so-happy place of pseudo PTSD from her sleep issues of the past, but we have come so far that these bumps pale in comparison to months 3-6.

And me? Well, chugging along. Sometimes I feel like my life is a suburban version of "Groundhog Day".... and you can take that for what it's worth. Like I said above, dealing with the kiddos 24/7 for over a week at a time has left me a little stressed, lonely and self-pitiful (when I have no reason to be, considering how lucky I really am in the grand scheme of things).

So my blogging goal, is to post something every day for the next 30 days. A Columbus Day resolution, of sorts....stay tuned!!

2009-09-14T12:27:00.001-07:00

As I was laying in the grass with my lovable dog, enjoying the end of summer, I found a lump on her neck. My mind is a mess of unnecessary panic and premature emotions right now, but with Hubby out of town and two kids that need to be fed/changed/entertained, I'm not in the mood to do much until tomorrow's appointment.

2009-08-18T08:07:00.000-07:00

Hello, Honda Pilot.

I give you my sincere apologies for the stats of abuse you have to constantly endure.

Before you came to us to live with your forever family, I am sure you had it made. You were brand new, with only a few thousand miles under your hood. Your previous owners washed you, and vacuumed you. You had service checks! Routine oil changes at the recommended mileage! Hell, at one point, you were probably even detailed!

Then, you came to our family. Oh, it was nice those first few months when you carried around only one car seat and one stroller. The little kid that sat in the car seat was only eating Cheerios, and the crumbs easily brushed away.

The years went on, and suddenly sippy cups were tossed about your middle row. We dutifully cleaned you up, but the food stayed a little longer on your plush seats. A wrapper or two made their way under your seats, quickly forgotten.

Then, a new addition to the car - another infant car seat! Now you carry two children around, and now they are both eating. One eats Cheerios, but unlike last time, the Cheerios stay in your cracks and crevices. They get ground up in your floormats. The older child kicks your seats, drops even more food and milk, and climbs over every seat, in and out. Pressing your buttons, your emergency flashers, and turning on your wipers on the sunniest of days. Oh, the inhumanity of a 3 year old.

You no longer have the luxury of carrying a light load. As I crawled in your trunk today, I counted two bins of toys, 30 reusable grocery bags, two diaper bags, a beach bag (but we have yet to actually go to the beach), and three strollers. You carry more strollers than children!

But as I crawled deeper in your trunk, I smelled the smell. It's a smell of a car once loved, and now defeated by the children. The ultimate automotive insult: the milk sippy cup, tossed into a crevice, left to fester on a 90 degree day.

I rifled through the grocery bags, eager to find the offender. I tossed aside Matchbox car after Matchbox car, school project after project and finally, in the bottom of a toy bin, it was there. Last week's cup stuck in a puddle of congealed milk.

So now, I promise you, dear Honda Pilot, I am going to reclaim your dignity. Tomorrow we head to the car spa, where I will have you washed so your shine returns. I will collect my quarters to feed the vacuum that will brush your interior clean of processed crackers. And no more will you have to carry around food remnants, oh no! You will be a food free zone. The only liquid that will grace your interior will be water cups that will promptly removed. Water cups, and the tears of happiness that I will shed and I drive you around town without having to dry heave from the smell.

This is my promise to you, dear Honda Pilot. Drive us in peace, and we'll take care of you for another 100,000 miles!

2009-07-27T16:32:00.000-07:00

Life with two kids is a challenge, and I'm not one to sugarcoat how damn hard this is many days. I do bed/naptime routines 5 times a day - each one taking 15 minutes. Hours are spent on getting the kids to sleep. There's cleaning, bathing, errands, wiping tears, wiping butts, wiping noses. There's constant negotiation about one more cookie/Popsicle/book/toy/snack/truck. Hauling two kids in and out of carseats multiple times a day, often simultaneously dealing with a temper tantrum.

Having kids wears on your body, even after the body heals from labor and birth. Breast feeding has claimed my boobs as utility tools. After nursing, I have and will never view them the same way ever again. They're no longer for decoration or enjoyment; they nourish babies. My wrist is in a constant state of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome from carrying kids at odd angles. My back aches from carrying kids on my hip, sometimes both at the same time.

With both kids sleeping through the night, I thought I would be able to finally reclaim that deep sleep that only childless people seem to get. Now I sleep and I listen for whimpers, and anything that remotely sounds like a crying child (a faraway siren, for instance) jolts me out of my sleep and to immediate attention. Even on vacation away from kids, the sound of another baby crying makes me on call even though mine are safe and secure.

Leisurely showers where I can shave my legs and use a separate shampoo and conditioner? Eh, not so much. A uninterrupted meal, seated at a proper table? Rarely. Walls that don't have milk splattered on them, carpets that aren't embedded with Play-Doh & spit up? Not this house, that's for sure!

But I am lucky. So damn lucky that it brings tears to my eyes. They may drive me bonkers, but I love my healthy, happy, inquisitive kids. How did I get so lucky to have them? In the roulette of life, how did I luck out with perfectly healthy children? Perfect in every sense of the word. Perfect in their faults and imperfections - the sleep challenges, the willfulness, the temper tantrums. It's all perfect to me, and I am a lucky, lucky mamma.

2009-07-14T03:37:00.000-07:00

Still here, still blogging.....

It's 6:30 am and I have been awake on and off for 4 hours now after a fitful night of tossing and turning. As it always goes, I fell into a deep sleep right around 5:45 when Junior Miss decided to call for me...."AAAAH!!!!!!! AAAAHHHH???" I answered the mommy call of duty, fed a her while she kicked me in my face, and changed a nasty diaper. Now I am doing what all good mammas do in the wee hours of the morning - plop the baby down on the floor to play with potential choking hazards and hop on the computer. You never know what celebrity breaking news happened overnight.

Caveman is still blissfully asleep, fighting off whatever virus his nasty hands picked up along the way. Was it drinking the pool water? Or maybe licking the shopping cart handle? Yesterday he told me his mouth was broken (yet he still kept talking and talking and talking) and all symptoms are adding up to Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease. For those of you who don't know this is a common childhood virus where blisters break out on, you guessed it, your hands, feet and mouth. Sounds fun, huh? The real name for this virus is Coxsackie, and you can only guess that Hubby found that word really, really funny.

Let's face it, kids are freaking GROSS. They pick up weird germs and do weird things to pick up germs. We're trying to teach the Caveman about germs, and how to stop spreading and sharing them. But, hey, he's a Caveman. He finds no issue in using the rim of the toilet seat to brace himself as he climbs on it to flush. A few months ago, at a wedding, he busted out the ultimate dance move in front of 200 people - he licked the dance floor. When I stooped down to confirm that I had indeed witnessed it, he did it again.

So, I watch the clock and wait for the doctor's office to open so I can bring the Caveman in where's he'll play with more germ infested toys and pick up more weird, perverted-sounding illnesses.

2009-06-23T10:51:00.000-07:00

Sheesh, no posts means that life is dull and boring around these parts....

Caveman continues to amaze me. The other night, after I read him a book, I was cuddling up close to him. He said to me, "not now mamma, I have to go to bed now". Ummmm...OK!

Today I am off to the Big City to have a dental consultation for some upcoming surgery. I'm actually looking forward to it! You know you really need to get out when it sounds fun to have your tooth poked and then sit in(what will likely be) close to 2 hours of rush hour traffic on the way home. A slow ride with only me and my iPod!

Wish me luck!

2009-06-12T10:25:00.000-07:00

Last night I got out of the shower and Caveman was cuddled up in my bed. I was getting dressed and he said to me, "Mamma, why do you have long boobies?"

"Long boobies". Yet another sacrifice I make for my children. :)

2009-06-03T16:38:00.000-07:00

Phew, I guess I am not alone with the bathing suit issues! I'm soo glad everyone is curious about the state of my bikini! :)

No, I haven't gotten one yet. I'm not desperate for one as of now - here is Massachusetts it was a balmy 60 degrees today so I'm not planning a trip to the pool soon. However, we are going tot he Cape on the 26th so by then I will need one. And it needs to be a decent one since I am planning in signing up the Caveman for swim lessons at the town pool so I'll be in it weekly.

The bathing suit hunt, along with several other things, have made me start to really think about body image and how, as a mother to a daughter, body image will play a role in her life.

I have never given my body much thought. I have always stayed the same weight and never gained or lost any in spite of my frequent ice cream indulgences. I have fallen off the fitness wagon so many times I've lost count. But over the years, I've been a size 4 and was fine with it.

When I had the Caveman in 2006, I gained the usual 35 pounds and lost it all within 6 weeks. I clearly remember going to my 6 week postpartum checkup in pre-pregnancy pants. I thought I was hot stuff!

When I got pregnant with Junior Miss, it was almost the same deal - 25 pound weight loss with a pretty quick slide back down the scale. However, since 2 weeks postpartum, I have been stuck with an extra 10 pounds that just won't go away.

As I said before, my muffin top is more muffin-y and my thighs are plumper than they ever have been. I can't fit into many of my old pants (though thank God my super all time favorite summer capri jeans still miraculously fit) and even all my summer dresses are way too tight.

And you know what? I don't really care. For those of you that know me in real life, you're probably rolling your eyes and calling me a bitch under your breath. I know a lot of people would kill for a mere 10 pound postpartum weight loss, I fully acknowledge that.

I look at my body and I am so proud that it carried two healthy beautiful babies. So my muffin top is there - so what? My boobs hang low and I have those telltale brestfeeding veins - so what? I love them!

A great site that shares the beauty of women is The Shape of a Mother ....inspiring, wonderful and fascinating. It's a glimpse into real women and motherhood that we rarely get to see.

Many people always claim that they "want their body back" after having a baby. Between pregnancy and breastfeeding, I have dedicated 41 months - almost 3 1/2 years (and counting) - to growing and nourishing my babes. It's a hell of an accomplishment and if it means never going back to a size 4 - or 6, than so be it.

Hmm....I'm feeling powerful - maybe I will get a two piece!!!

Now the greater question is...how do I pass on a healthy body image to Junior Miss? And in raising a son, how do I teach him to love and appreciate real women - not the Pam Andersons of his generation?

It's dance recital and cheer competition season, and everyone is posting pictures of their daughters on Facebook. These girls all have makeup on! 3 and 4 years old! One of my friends (acquaintances) actually brought her 7 year old to get her hair and makeup professionally done for her dance recital. Am I missing something here? Is this common and accepted? I know many of us think that the Toddlers and Tiaras route is a bit wacky, and I think cheer and dance recitals are better, but why do they have to wear makeup? Is this a rite of passage for little girls?

A few nights ago I was watching an NCAA softball championship game. Division I athletes, at the top of their game. Strong powerful women, sliding into home plate, getting banged and bruised....and wearing RIBBONS in their hair? And makeup?

When Junior Miss starts dance lessons and her recital rolls around, do I put the makeup on her? Will she be the only one without it? Will I let her do it because everyone else is doing it? Where will I draw the line? Should I draw the line?

When Caveman evolves into a teenager and we catch a Playboy under his mattress (or check the history on the computer and see some adult sites), how do we tell him that women don't really look like that? How do we teach him to embrace dimply butts, soft bellies and muffin tops?

How?

2009-06-02T12:03:00.001-07:00

Today I started the yearly hunt for a bathing suit. In the years past - and even after having the caveman - there was never an issue with it. Just go, find one that looks good, buy it and be done.

This year I have to look more carefully. Despite having a good metabolism and looking decent in clothes, the fact remains that I am 34 years old, just had my 2nd child 6 months ago, and have yet to really use my gym membership. And then there's the thrice-weekly hot fudge sundae run I make after the kids are in bed. Need I paint you a clearer picture?

As I age I realize that I am growing too old for many stores...when I complained that the music was too loud in Abercrombie & Fitch, I knew it was time to move on. The shorts they sold at American Eagle covered less than my underwear...again, I moved on. And today, bathing suit shopping at Old Navy helped me check one more store off my list. I tried on a pair of bikini bottoms and laughed at the fact that the most modest bottoms they had still looked ridiculous on me. I gathered up my things and left the store, my butt feeling even bigger than it did when I started.

I headed down the mall to Macy's, knowing that they tailor to people over 105 pounds. I picked out a bunch of separates and headed to the dressing room. I close the door, and get undressed....only to find that I still have on some Old Navy bikini bottoms over my underwear. No wonder why my butt felt bigger!!!!!

I quickly take off my stolen goods and head back to Old Navy to embarrassingly return the criminal evidence. The teenage clerk could have cared less that I was reverse shoplifting, and I went on my way.

Mommy brain strikes again.....

2009-05-31T11:20:00.000-07:00

One of the hardest parts of parenting has been the lack of sleep. There are some people that only need 5 or 6 hours to get by. I am not one of those people. I crave (and need) a minimum of 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep to feel normal in the morning. I prefer 9 or 10.

Caveman takes after me in this department, for the most part. He was one of "those" babies that fell into their own delicious 12 hour sleep pattern at 2 months of age. Even now, at nearly 3 1/2 years old, he religiously takes a 3 hour afternoon nap. He relishes sleep and never fights naps. When he is sent to his room for timeout, I will often find hi climbing into bed for some R&R, or if I am puttering upstairs he'll often crawl into my bed and bury himself in pillows and blankets.

Junior Miss is the polar opposite. She may be the lightest sleeper on the face of the earth. While Caveman slept through burglar alarms and mailbox explosions as a baby, Junior Miss is awakened by footsteps and doors opening in Caveman's room above her. The washing machine, faucet and doggy toe-tapping is known to get her going, despite white noise machines and bathroom fans. I teach caveman how to slide his feet on the floor outside her room. It's a crazy way to get her to stay asleep, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help her stay snoozing away.

When I was pregnant everyone said to me, "Oh, your second is going to be the worst sleeper because you had such a great first sleeper!" Strangers and friends alike said this to me, and when Junior Miss showed us from an early age that she was not going down without a fight, all those people happily said "I told you so!". And my unspoken response was "Well, you were right. Good for fucking YOU. Are you happy that I'm sleep deprived? Bastards".

One of the things I have discovered about myself is that, when robbed of my sleep, I swear. A lot. As in, I day things that a woman should never ever say out loud. I silently labored two children in to the world with only a single curse word, but when jerked out of sleep by a crying baby, I am apt to make George Carlin roll over in his grave.

It was no wonder that Caveman started using the word "fuck" at every opportunity when Junior Miss was mere weeks old and I hadn't slept more than 2 hours at a stretch. He enjoyed the word so much that he started using it everyday conversation. One day we were looking at baseball cards and we were talking about John Smoltz and how he has just been traded. Caveman dutifully replied, "Fuckin' Smoltz got traded!" My husband (a self proclaimed fantasy baseball addict) was secretly pleased. Other gems were when he asked me if we were going to "Fuckin' Shaw's" and he muttered to himself "these fucking guys" while playing with his Duplo men. Ah, those were the days.

Fast forward 6 months - we have Junior Miss's sleep on track and life is back to normal. Cavemen no longer swears and is evolving quite nicely. I no longer fear taking him out in public.

This morning was a morning for the record books. At the tender time of 5:33, as the sun was making its appearance into the sky, I heard the worst noise I could imagine: the latch of Caveman's door opening. After the "click" comes the slow "squuuueak" of the door as it opens and the floorboards creak under his feet. "Mamma, I have to pee". I get up and we tiptoe to the bathroom and I usher him quietly back to his room to play while I try to go back to sleep.

Too late. Through the monitor I hear Junior Miss start to cry from all the "noise" from caveman's room above her. 5:34, on a Sunday morning, and both kids are awake - what a way to start the day! Caveman hears her and comes in my room again, wanting a snack. I send him back to play - again. Hubby gets Junior Miss out of her crib and I hear Caveman in his room cheering about his poops!! his poops!! Hubby has Junior Miss in her bouncy seat while helping clean up the Caveman, the dog is bouncing around, and I'm trying to go back to sleep. It's only 5:40 at this point and you can only guess how I am feeling.

My mouth opens and unleashes a tirade on hubby, who knows what's about to happen. "This is fucking bullshit! This sucks! I need to go back the fuck to sleep! I am so sick of this goddamn fishbowl house where I can't even take a fucking step without waking her up! Why the fuck is he awake already anyway?!? That's it, we're moving bedrooms around. I can't take this shit anymore!!"

From behind the squeaky door that started it all, I can hear Caveman in all his proper glory, yelling, "Don't say bad words mamma! Fuck is a bad word mamma!"

Tears turned into laughter, a few hours and a ioxed door later, and things are back to "normal" in the house. I'm still tired, so only God knows that I may say next.....

2009-05-29T10:52:00.000-07:00

Dare I say it...the caveman is evolving. Just a week ago I called up his summer camp and postponed his session due to his lack of potty training. Just last week I caught him crapping in the yard ("but Mamma, the doggie does it!") and just last week I was sopping up pee from the living room couch (visitors, you have been warned. Don't sit on it.)

Now I am awakened by the sweet words of "Mamma, I have to poop" as I race in, half awake, to pull off the overnight diaper. Caveman sits on the potty and grunts like he's giving birth, that sweet child. He enjoys looking at his poop and describing it - so far he's pooped a "microphone", "volcano", "pinecone" and "snake". He can hold his pee on the turnpike and gleefully use the urinals at the rest stops. He comes to me in the middle of a party and loudly declares, "I have to POOP!".

He's a pro!

2009-05-21T07:21:00.000-07:00

So, like most people, I spend way too much time on Facebook. Between Facebook, Twitter, blogging on two blogs and following countless others, it's amazing that my children are fed and clothed each day. (Did I mention Caveman went to school with food on his face again???? I had 12 hours of American Idol-related status updates to read, people!)

So here's my list of peeves about Facebook. I am sure you have your own, so feel free to leave yours in a comment:

Why do random people send you a friend request, and you accept, only to find out that they de-friended you a few days later? I need to do a better job at not accepting these random requests from old middle school acquaintances but I guess curiosity gets to me too.
The quizzes. Please, for the love of God and all that is good in the world. Stop with the quizzes. I don't care what you future son's/daughter's name should be, what Biblical character you are, what your favorite color means, where you should live, be in another life, and so on. All I have to say is "thank you", Facebook creators, for the Block application.
Random groups. "I Love Sleep". "I Love my Son". "I Love My Daughter". Of course you love your kids, who would really admit to not? But, the best one I saw today was "I Bet I Can Find 1,000,000 People Who Hate Cancer". Really? Because I seem to remember the "I Love Cancer" group had quite a following.

It's 80 degrees, my kids are at school and/or asleep, and here I am on the computer bitching and moaning about computer networking sites. Maybe I should start a group "I Spend Way Too Much Time on Facebook While Simultaneously Bitching About It and Not Doing Anything Else With My Day". Joiners, anyone?

2009-05-19T07:35:00.001-07:00

Like most other moms, I catch myself saying the same things over and over and over again. "Don't touch that/put it down/Stop!Stop!Stop!" and so on. I need to come up with a device that will electronically emit the proper response to a situation. A mommy remote control of sorts, where instead of repeating the same request (that turns into a plea) I can simply press a button. Caveman is trying to carry Junior Miss by her head? "Put your sister down". Trying to balance something on top of the dog while she's trying to run away? "Please don't put that on the doggie". The possibilities are endless, I am sure.

But what about the times when a remote control for a stock response just won't do?

The other day I gave some walnuts to the Caveman. He was happily munching away when I see this substance oozing from his mouth. "What the hell is that?" I thought to myself when I realized that he was letting the chewed up walnuts fall out of his mouth. My response? "Caveman, please swallow the nuts in your mouth."

And what about the time, in another failed attempt to potty train him, I let him run around naked? We were siting on the floor and coloring with markers. I walked away for a minute and came back to find Caveman trying to decorate some "hanging ornaments". Who would have thought that I would ever mutter the words "Please don't color your pee pee!"?

2009-05-16T07:45:00.000-07:00

Well, he did it. Caveman attempted to fly and he failed. I always wondered what a 35 pound 3 year old would sound like as they sailed from the step, bounced off a chair and connected back with the step. Yesterday I found out.

He happily re-enacted the whole thing for Hubby when he got home last night. Caveman seemed to be quite proud of it and flailed on the ground as he landed, dramatizing the whole thing as only a 3 year old would.

This morning his eyelid is swollen and purple, giving him a slightly punk rock look to his face. I tried to ice it for him and he held the ice on the center of his forehead, and then on his other uninjured eye. Needless to say, he's not in much pain from it.

The killer of this whole thing is that he tried to fly again this morning. Apparently he's lost some short term memory skills. I just.don't.know.

2009-05-14T08:11:00.001-07:00

An Open Letter to Gift Givers (Grandmas and Grandpas):

Thank you so much for choosing such a special toy for the Caveman. He loves to play with everything he can get his hands on, but remember....his name is Caveman for a reason.

After you spend the weekend playing with the great toys, they go into our playroom. Have you seen it? It's the Black Hole of Toys. One day upon walking in to the room, I thought the Toys R Us clearance team came and dumped their surplus, and then ransacked the room. But then I remembered, "Nope, just a weekend with the grandparents".

You know that $60 cash register set you bought him? Well, it's haunted. It will beep when no one is around and I'll hear "ka-CHING!" several times a day. I run to it, eagerly waiting real money to start flying out, but to no avail.....just coins and fake bills I can't even pass for the real deal at the sketchy convenience store.

Coins and bills. Yes, grandma and grandpa, COINS and BILLS. The thing came stocked with $15,000 in play money that is now scattered around the house like an ATM explosion. The Caveman knows no concept of money, he thinks everything cost "three dollars". Maybe in a few years, we'll have fun playing with money and pretending to play store, but for now all it teaches him is that Mommy says bad words when a play nickel gets stuck in the vacuum.

And please don't think I am being discriminatory against in in-laws...oh no! I am sending this letter out to my own parents too....

Mom & Dad- as a kid, I loved playing that fishing game...you know, the one where the little fish go around in circles and open up their mouths as you try to snag one with a fishing pole. But let's leave the generation feel-good toys for another time.

Caveman is a fish killer, it's in his genes. He's no longer content to sit still and wait for a plastic fish to open its mouth, oh no! He has annihilated almost every fish in the pond. He snaps their jaws off and leaves them lying in the hallway. I have lost count of all the plastic carcasses scattered throughout the house:

The few fish that have survived his wrath sit sadly in their BPA laced pond, waiting for the batteries to turn on so they can get their spin on and get snatched by a pole. Well, the poles are long gone and only four fish remain. If you look closely, Mr. Blue was lucky enough to snag a foil wrapper from some forbidden candy. What a lucky fish.

Grandmas, and grandpas, save your money. Toys that are deemed "educational" are only deemed such when Caveman's over-educated parents spend hours trying to put them back together. Toys with 100 pieces only means 100 chances for the vacuum to break.

Save your money and buy some dirt. And rocks. He's a Caveman who likes to run, jump and play in the dirt and mud- so head on over to Lowe's and spend away!

edited to add: I just spent an hour cleaning the Toy Vomit Room and opened up the cash register to make a deposit, only to find some baby lotion and an eyeless fish. This kid is a criminal!

2009-05-11T12:33:00.000-07:00

It's really funny how kids can be so stubborn sometimes and disagree with you on just about anything you say, and Caveman is no exception. A few days ago he was in a super surly mood wanted a snack - what else is new!? - so I was going through the cabinets. I finally decided on some healthy options and told him, "Okay, you have a choice..." and he cut me off- "No, I don't have a choice, YOU have a choice". He had no clue what he was arguing about but he made it very clear that he was going to argue.

This morning we attempted potty training for the 4,878,688th time. For a few days he's been going to the potty by himself, running down the hall and shouting at me, "Weeve me awone, I need pri'cy" and successfully doing his thing. Ok, fair enough, he can go unprompted, so maybe we'll try a trek to the playground- if he pees himself, it'll be outside and not on someone's nice floor.

I put his favorite Red Sox undies on him and he insists on carrying the spares with him downstairs. I leave the room and come back to see him wearing Spiderman undies on his head. I am curious to see how long he'll wear them like that, so I let him be.

2 hours later we're playing in the yard, and he's riding his bike with aforementioned undies still on his head. I tell him they are still up there and he touches his head and chuckles. "Oops, you're right, Mamma, sorry". He takes them off and walks towards me and I see his pants sagging with poop. I ask him if he pooped and he's in denial, but the look on his face tells otherwise. I change his clothes, slap a diaper on him, and off to the park we go. And that's my caveman, wearing underwear on his butt and his head, and still too lazy to poop anywhere else. :)

2009-05-10T16:39:00.001-07:00

On our Mother's day walk we went to the local nature preserve to soak in the sun and pollen. On our way we walked by the duck enclosure and saw two ducks going at it. (On a side note, I never knew that ducks could actually have intercourse. I thought one laid an egg and the other fertilized it....guess I need to go back to basic high school biology). The male duck was on top of the female duck, doing his thing, while holding her head down with his foot and biting her neck - now that's a romantic Mother's Day! Caveman was oh-so curious about the whole thing and exclaimed, "Mamma, that duck is eating the other one!!!"

I hope Caveman and Junior miss always stay this innocent...I hope that my Mother's Day cards always have drawings of ghosts in them, and I hope that I still get PB&J kisses and sticky hands on my face before bed.

Happy Mother's Day!!

2009-05-07T08:25:00.000-07:00

I pull up to school in a sea of freshly washed SUVs and watch other moms get their kids out of the cars. The kids are happily playing about as moms use their well manicured hands to collect backpacks. They flip their blow dried hair and pick up their Coach bags and make their way into the school. After the kids are at school, I am sure they'll do some shopping at a boutique somewhere, maybe hit Starbucks, and meander back to school, ready to pick up their kids and go out to lunch.

And then...there's us. My filthy car swerves into the parking lot, covered in dirt and finger swirls where the Caveman "painted" in the dirt. When was the last time my car was washed??? I open my car door and breathe fresh air...the smell of sour milk has been permeating my car for a week now and I can't seem to shake it.

It semi-dawns on me that I still had my pajama top on under my hooded sweatshirt. How the hell did I let that happen? Luckily I had on a nursing bra so I felt somewhat dressed.

I open up the door to get Junior Miss out, and find a sticker in her hair. In the .29 seconds it took me to walk around to the other side of the car, Caveman ripped a sticker off of his carseat and stuck it on her head. Her fuzzy blond hair now declares that "Carseat Straps MUST Be Tightened Using This Knob!"

I haul both kids out of the car as Caveman happily drags along his newest "toy", one half of a fluorescent orange swim goggle that he found in the neighbor's yard. He can't wait to show it off at school. Fine with me.

I make my way through the crowds of kids and moms, and bring Caveman to the bathroom to wash his hands. For the 90th time, I show him the potty and ask if he wants to use it before going in to his class. It's a great potty, just the right size for a 3 year old! "No Mamma, I like my diapers", says the Caveman. I sigh and remember that Pampers does make a Size 7 diaper. I wash his hands and find that I hadn't washed his breakfast off of his face. No matter, a wet paper towel and he's good to go. He runs into his classroom without a second look.

As I leave, the other moms coo at Junior Miss....at 6 months she's enjoying her toes and smiling at everyone. "Oh, she scratched herself" a mom declares. I look closer...no scratch, just some leftover prunes on her face.

I make a mental note to myself that hygiene really does count....maybe if I take the car to the car wash and leave the windows down we'd all get clean. I'm a great multitasker.