Thursday, September 30, 2010

B and the "digg-ah"

The neighbors are doing some major yard work. "Digg-ah!" "Digg-ah!" "Big onf (orange) digg-ah!"


Usually, when J obtains a mouthful of sand, I sprint (not unlike a Kenyan) into the house to give his mouth a thorough rinsing.
Usually? I hear you thinking, Don't you know how filthy, dirty, and dangerous sandbox sand IS? Didn't you SEE that episode of "The Monsters Inside me" on Animal Planet about the kid who ate raccoon poop??
Yesterday, however, I decided to let J sit with his mouthful for a few moments, hoping to dissuade him from continuing to attempt to eat it. Breathing deeply and slowly, I restrained myself, waiting for the look of disgust to cross his face, hoping that perhaps he'd start to whine and then I could spring triumphantly into action.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
He raised a second shovelful to his lips.
And then as I lunged toward him, he went for the third.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

9/29/10 (2)

There isn't a single clean spoon in the house. Just made my tea with a fork.


I hear the screech of my youngest reverberating through the rafter's of gold's gym. I poke my head around the corner "You need me?" I ask the daycare staff, and when the answer is "Nope" I scurry away, unseen by the screecher, to the delightful respite of my treadmill.


6/9/10 When I hear a wee voice break the silence on the baby monitor, I sigh and think about hiding under the table.

6/10/10 J's breath smells like an aquarium and I am not particularly concerned.

6/12/10 Just found B on our neighbor's playset. Again.

6/13/10 While witnessing J's first successful crawl across the room, I find myself NOT wiping a bittersweet tear, but instead thinking "FINALLY, maybe this will improve his frustrated disposition"

6/14/10 Was a little disappointed when J rolled over and went right to sleep without any crying at naptime. (Crying time) + (sleeping time) = (total mommy freedom time). That's math even this bad mother can handle.

6/15/10 In the past 24h B has: pooped in the tub, destroyed an entire bed of lilies, and taken a baseball bat to the snow blower. Awesome.

6/17/10 Number of rocks removed from J's mouth today: 4

6/22/10 Been bitten twice (nursing baby with 3 teeth). Kicked once. Pinched. Had a clod of dirt thrown at me. Then a rock. Fished a variety of playground debris from J's mouth. Lost a binkie in a soccer field. And it's only 1pm. Ugh.


7/2/10 To the keeper of the karmic score-card: sorry about all the black ants. Remeber that time I brought the wolf spider outside and set it free tho? That should count for something!

7/20/10 B catches me with a hand in potato chip bag, "Dat?" he says. "Pretzels" I lie, not wanting to share. "Some?" he says. "Sure, but this bag is empty" I continue to lie, "Let me get you some from this bag over here". Bad, bad mommy.

7/26/10 B begins to throw up in the backseat of our moving car. I (not driving) climb into the back seat, catch the second wave (bare hands) and attempt to throw it out the window (car still moving). An awesome splatter pattern results. Sweet. Lesson learned.


8/5/10 A sippie cup has leaked into the bottom of the diaper bag. The resulting sludge of goldfish particles, dirt, kleenex, baby wipes, cereal bar crumbs, and other unidentified flotsam is totally making me gag.

8/16/10 Inadvertently left the wet laundry in the washer too long. Somehow failed to notice everything smelled like sour milk until getting B dressed. BMM: Too lazy to obtain non-smelly clothes, I left him in his stinky clothes until naptime! GROSS!

8/25/10 I cannot fix whatever it is that B has done to the computer. Number of crayons eaten by J: 2 (blue and red). My hair has achieved an unparalleled state of frizziness, and I have eaten cookies for lunch.
8/26/10 In an effort to wear normal clothes out to lunch with a friend, I scour my closet and find six (SIX?!) black t-shirts. I am fairly certain they do not multiply on their own, so I must ask myself WHY I have bought six (SIX?!) black t-shirts.

8/27/10 you see, the problem is, my children are pro-fruit fly. so despite my most stringent, bleachy, anti-fruit fly efforts - I just can't compete with a toddler who insists on eating his applesauce with a soup ladle.


Alright, fine, I was letting B run around a little in the boy's pj section of Target when we were caught red-footed by a snarling Target employee, "No running" she stage whispered to her red-shirted cohort. I slunk away, BAD MOTHER written all over my scarlet face.


Thank you to everyone who made Co's birthday so special. Except you, Market Basket Cake Decorator Lady, it's JAcoby not JOcoby just like I told you. Twice.


The scratchy shuffle of robeez approaching from behind gives me the exact same prickly dread caused by the first few notes of the Jaws theme. I just know someone is about to grab my leg, and tho there won't be blood, there is (more often than not) some accompanying screaming.


BMM: I feed J cold noodles directly from the fridge, and tell myself "he likes them better that way."


"Armadillo?" says B, as we read a book about Texas. "Armadillo." I confirm. "Armadillo?" he asks again, brow furrowed. "Umm" I flounder, "An Armadillo is like a turtle. And a dog" I clarify. Now he looks somewhat frightened. Way to go mama, an armadillo phobia is born!


While walking yesterday I suddenly noticed a strange sound and increased difficulty in pushing the stroller. Upon investigation I discover that Coby has wriggled out of the seat, under the tray and is now being (how to put this delicately?) dragged.


This morning I hid from B. He wanted to play whiffleball, and I wanted a break from the ENDLESS "mommy go get da ball!" So I hid, watching him through windows and cracks in doors. Sometimes crouching. Sometimes bolting when he headed my way. Sort of like a navy seal. But more like a deranged, bad mama.


The worst part of a catastrophic diaper failure is that shocking moment of realization. "Good morning Coby! How did you sl... Why am I wet?... Why are you wet? ... What the... Oh. Dear. God"


Today Coby said, "no. no. no!" while he took a bat to my lovely yellow mums.

9/24/2010 a two-fer

Caught Co red-handed removing a shoe in Target. Triumphant, I placed it in the cart, and promptly forgot it. Returned to Target an hour later to rummage through the cart corral and locate it (triumphant once again).

Stepped out of the shower at the gym today to discover I had forgotten.... a towel.


I hear the screech of my youngest reverberating through the rafter's of gold's gym. I poke my head around the corner "You need me?" I ask the daycare staff, and when the answer is "Nope" I scurry away, unseen by the screecher, to the delightful respite of my treadmill.