That's m'boy

Gotta love a man who is in touch with his feminine side.

Public Service Announcement #3

When the clocks switch from Daylight Savings time back to normal time, make sure that your husband changes his clock. That way, Monday morning when you hear the baby cry at, oh say 5:00am you don't think it's 6:00am and go in to get the child. The same child who if you put him back to bed once you realize what time it is will think that this is akin to having his arms and legs amputated all at once without anesthesia and scream as if the procedure was actually being done.

Happy Monday.

A potato and a skinny veggie? Really?

I'm sure that is what you are thinking when you realize what web names I gave my two precious off-spring. As previously mentioned I'm web-paranoid so I cannot use the perfectly lovely names that we agonized over.

Most of the agony belonged to Way Cooler as I pestered him about names non-stop from the moment I saw the second line on the little stick until he gave up in sheer exhaustion. We lived in the sticks and had to drive 2.5 hours (each way) to the nearest city of any note and every single time we drove, I brought the baby name books. Poor man, I can't think of anything worse, locked for nearly three hours in a car with a VERY hormonal pregnant lady who wants to know "Why" you don't like every single last name that you veto. Sometimes I even cried. I also threw up a couple of times, but then, I did that no matter what he said!

Sorry, big tangent there. Anyway, let me explain the web names. Spud is actually my oldest son's nickname in real life. He is kinda shaped like one. He is nearly the top of the growth chart for weight, and just about at the bottom for height and he isn't fat. He is a solid little chunk of deliciousness. The other inanimate object he resembles is a brick, but I think Spud has a bit more of a ring to it! I know he'll be discussing this whole nickname thing on Oprah some day, but hey, mommy's have got to have some fun in life!

Then there's Sprout. That's what we are hoping he will do some day. Sprout up. Unfortunately he didn't exactly win the genetic lottery. I'm 5'2" and his Dad is 3 inches taller than me. This is a big week for Sprout he has pretty much outgrown his 6-12 month pants and I turned the car seat around to be forward facing as he now weighs enough. Did I mention he's 19 months old? At least his height and weight are in the same place on the charts - well below the last line.

I suppose I could have just used their first initials, or given them a beautiful, thoughtful name that is reflective of their personalities like Veronica, but I am a geek and thinking inside the box, well, I'm just not good at it. So, instead I think inside the crisper!

A small problem with an all male household

Before we had kids, I must confess I was really hoping for a boy. I had taught Junior High for a number of years and really just didn't want to be dealing with a couple of teenage girls while going through menopause myself. I didn't think I would have the strength.

I got what I wanted, two little boys, and 99.99% of the time am utterly delighted, captivated and thrilled with my three men. It's testosterone city around here and I couldn't be happier.

However, what I did not figure in was that at some point they may all get sick together.

Right now we have more w(h)ine than all the restaurants in France.

At least I'm not menopausal. I'm just gonna need a lot of that Halloween chocolate.

Like Father, like son

As you may know, I am a bit of a geek. My hubby on the other hand is not. (How we ever wound up together is another story!) As a result I can easily embarrass the poor man. Sometimes accidentally, but mostly I do it on purpose. It's really fun. It's basically become a hobby. It's a lot cheaper and easier than scrapbooking.

Anyway, I sing in public, dance when people can see me and burp occasionally, which causes the poor man no end of personal shame. He has however, learned to ignore it for the most part, because protesting only eggs me on.

Well the other day Spud was pretending to take my picture with a toy camera and kept telling me to smile, so I pretended I was a model for Sears and began to pose. This began to irritate my son and he repeated his admonition for me to smile. I smiled but continued to act like a model on speed. He then put the camera down and said "no mommy, that's bad" and started to walk away. As he left I heard him muttering, "that's very very bad."

His father would be so proud.

Camp Poppa

Guess what! Spud and Sprout are at Camp Poppa this weekend! I drove them down to my parent's place about two hours away yesterday. Through a small snowstorm I might add. Poor Spud, "mommy I can't see, there's too much snow!" Then on top of it, he had to play the quiet game, because it really was a mini-blizzard for 30 minutes or so and I was nervous. The quiet game is very tough when you're three. But, since mommy calls it a game it must be OK. (Yes, this does actually work, for how much longer I have no idea, but I make it sound fun and he stops talking.) I know, mommy of the year I am not, but they are kinda stuck with me.

Anyway, as I started to say, every so often my dad takes Spud for a few days. We call it Camp Poppa. This is Sprout's first time at Camp Poppa and I, (being the stellar mommy that I am) was more than delighted to send him! It's a win-win situation all around.

If nothing else, poor Spud gets a bit of a reprieve from the constant expectations that mommies are supposed to have, but Poppas don't have to. Plus Poppa's house is a never-ending party! Cookies at every meal! What more could a boy ask for in life?

And mommy, well she got her basement storage area cleaned out, the garage re-organized and she weeded a bunch of stuff that we really don't need. This was sooooo exciting. (I'm not even being sarcastic.)

I have a mortal fear of clutter and it is just lovely to actually accomplish stuff without sippy-cup and diaper emergencies. Now when they get home I'll have time to focus on them instead of trying to get this job done with two extra helpers!

I am certain that some of you remember all the posts making fun of my OCD sis, and are saying to yourself, "a mortal fear of clutter, that's' weird too," let me defend myself, I don't have to have every-thing hyper organized, I'm just the exact opposite of a packrat. Unfortunately, I did marry one, but that's a whole other post (or self-help book.)

So, there may be no post tomorrow, I'll be enjoying my childfree status for one more day, but stay tuned for the exciting adventures of eh and y'all coming soon!

He is the Pirate That Won't Do Anything

A couple of weeks ago Spud and I were discussing Halloween. After a little convincing he decided to be a pirate rather than Nemo as mommy has zero talent in the whole costume area plus she is a cheapaholic and could easily assemble a pirate costume for under 5 bucks, not so much for a Nemo.

So we talked about being a pirate, we looked at the movie trailer for the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything (until I can repeat it in my sleep) and we practiced putting on the costume. I got the idea for practicing from Mary-Mia who is one of my mom-heros. She has the female version of Sprout times two. I can only imagine how tired she is, Sprout is enough to make me want to drink coffee straight from the pot. Anyway, I stole the idea of practicing from her and thought we would be set.

Last week we went to a scarecrow festival and we were going to wear our costume. Since we took transit there I did not put the costume on until we arrived. I got the pirate beard painted on OK, started to put on the pirate beads and began to hear "I don't want to be a pirate, I spud" over and over again. So, we tried the bandanna, even more protesting. There were even tears. So since putting on a Halloween costume is NOT a hill on which I am willing to die, or even climb, we proceeded to the festival with just our beard. The festival freaked the pants off of him so there I was pushing the double stroller of death with a sad bearded three year old begging to go home. I complied. Quickly.

Fast forward to this weekend and I (rather foolishly) decided that since once again Way Cooler was out of town I would take the boys by myself to the Boo at the Zoo. We talked about pirates again this week, sang "We are the Pirates Who Don't do Anything" and practiced putting on our costume once again. Once again upon arriving at the festival we had a heap of pirate sadness, "I not a pirate, I Spud."

So if you live in my area, be on the lookout for my three year old, who this year will be dressing up as himself. He'll happily take your candy anyway cause he's a pirate who don't wear anything.

Easy Cookie Recipe For Kids (just not mine)

So, on Wednesday I went to Rocks in My Dryer for her "Works for Me Wednesday. " My cheap little heart was looking for more tips on ways to save $. (I eat those up like candy.) Something else caught my eye. JCK had an easy cookie recipe to make with your kids. That sounded so good as I was looking for ways to fill the days while daddy is away.

Unfortunately, I think she forgot some of the instructions. So, I have included the recipe that she posted along with the "missing" instructions which are in Green.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. You now must watch Sprout constantly as he is perfectly capable of opening the oven door at will. And thinks it's pretty fun to do so.

In a large bowl mix together: 1/2 cup of cooking oil & 2 eggs. Add the contents of one box of your favorite cake mix, dry just as it comes from the box. Explain 15 times to Spud what cake mix is.

Mix it all together with your hands. Note, if you try to get Sprout to do this he will scream and thrust his hands in the air repeatedly. There is no way he is going NEAR that batter. Spud will put his hands in but only to retrieve chocolate chips. **REQUIRED** It will be very stiff.

Can continue with your hands to add 1/2 cup or so of chocolate chips, nuts or whatever. If you add chocolate chips be prepared to hear "can I eat that chocolate chip mommy?" every 18 seconds until the cookies are in the oven.

Pinch off bits of the batter about the size of a tablespoon if you want large cookies, or more like a gumball if you want small. Watch out for Sprout who now has a old twist tie and is dragging it randomly through the batter. DO NOT take away the twist tie. If you do, well I warned you.

Bake about 10 minutes. Watch carefully, they bake pretty quickly. Top will still be a little moist when they are done. Remove immediately to a rack or to sheets of newspaper. Now until they cool you will hear "can I eat one now mommy?" "Are they ready yet mommy", "I think they're ready now mommy", "check again mommy." Fortunately for EVERYONE involved, they cool pretty quickly.

Some great variations are: chocolate cake mix & added chocolate chips & nuts. You can also use yellow or white cake and add food color for fun. Or white cake mix with M&Ms! Anything will work - that's the fun! Enjoy.

Another variation is to make them when the kids are in bed, skip the whole putting on a cookie sheet and baking step and add a glass of wine!

Thanks for the recipe JCK, they turned out really well and I will try them again, just not tomorrow!

Another Public Service Announcement

Before going to bed, check to see that your children haven't turned on the alarm and inadvertently set it for, oh say, 5:00am.
That's all.
Have a great morning.

For every action, there is a reaction

Action: Three year old gets bit by a goose.
Reaction: Mortal fear of any live animal.

Action: Take aforementioned 3 year old to off-leash dog park to play in the leaves.
Reaction: Must carry screaming 37lb 3 year old back to van while pushing double stroller.

Action: Same three year old puts fork into his finger at dinner this evening.
Reaction: Lots of blood and tears.

Action: Go get bandaid for bloody finger.
Reaction: 18 month old feels abandoned and throws entire bowl of Kraft Dinner on floor.

Action: Sternly speak to 18 month old about throwing food on the floor.
Reaction: Both boys laugh hysterically.

Action: Daddy foolishly leaves his Skor bites in the fridge.
Reaction: Mommy polishes off the bag.