Ken?

Took the boys to one of the county rec centers the other day.  Three whole dollars bought us a morning of entertainment and a bit of disturbia. 

I'm talking about Charlie's new friend...

Dude. Seriously. WTH happened to Ken’s head?

I don’t know what this about. I don’t think this is Metrosexual Ken, because I think that would imply this Ken has some sort of concern for his appearance.  No, this appears to be Bedhead Ken with some possible identity issues.

Charlie sure didn’t notice. He thought Bedhead Ken was pretty cool. Looks like Granddad, he told me. (??)  ----->

Please, Mattel, bring back the plastic helmet hair. Please.

Pottytime?? Say it isn't so!

When all is said and done, I will have purchased 8 potties.

Three for upstairs, three downstairs, one for the car, and that damn Spanish-speaking Elmo potty I blogged about a few months ago. Because for right now at least, when one boy sits on the potty, everybody wants to sit.

Let me back up a second. I am NOT officially potty training anyone right now. As I’ve mentioned previously, it’s kind of my worst nightmare.

My plan has been to start this summer when everyone’s in shorts and tees, and I'm much more mentally prepared.

But (*sigh*) the boys started to show a little interest a few months ago, so they’ve had potties in their bathroom for a while. And for the past month or so, they all sit on the potty before taking a bath, and usually, 2 out of 3 will go, and then they get rewarded with 2 M&Ms. (And I reward myself with a handful.)

Tonight, Zach sat on the potty and a few seconds later, jumped up shouting: “Yay Zach! I get candy!” I gave him the M&Ms and tried to put him in the bathtub. “NO! I go more potty!” He sat back down, and about 3 seconds later jumped up: “Yay Zach! I get candy!” He’d gone another teaspoonful, and was rewarded with 2 more M&Ms. Again, he refused to get in the tub - sat right back down on the potty. Then he peed another teaspoon, cheered for himself (again, in the third person) and demanded more candy. Then it hit me. Stinker was controlling his pee to get more candy. Unreal.

I told him he needed to let ALL the pee out next time.  He looked at me sheepishly and let it flow.  “Look at all that pee!” he told me. Guess this means at least Zach is more ready for the potty than I thought. Hmmmph.

Belly Button police

Had a good weekend after a busy week.  Brian left for Las Vegas on Wednesday morning and came home late Saturday.  I tried explaining to the boys where Daddy was (that he got on an airplane, flew to this magical place called Vegas), but I'm pretty sure they think he spent four days flying around in an airplane.  Each morning they would notice that daddy wasn't around to see them, and then remind me that "Daddy in the sky... we get prizes when he home!"

So Brian returned Saturday, plastic dinosaur toys in hand, and the boys were thrilled (especially by their new toys).  Almost immediately, the father/sons horseplay resumed.

It made Bax very nervous.

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We had a good couple days flying solo.  The only time I had to close my eyes and count to 10 was when I walked into the bathroom (after getting Cooper into his PJs after his bath) to discover that Zach and Charlie had decided to empty the bathwater themselves.... cupful by cupful, ONTO THE BATHROOM FLOOR.

On Friday afternoon, my sister dropped by with some friends visiting from DC.  Within a few minutes, Charlie was showing his new best friends his belly button: "I have belly button!  Zachie and Poodah have belly buttons too!!"  Then he demanded to to see theirs.  Little bit awkward explaining to guests that no, they really don't need to show my kid their navels.   And then yesterday, when I was outside talking to our lovely neighbors (who are about my parents' age), Charlie started up again, "I have a belly button!"   Oh man.  My apologies in advance to anyone who gets confronted by my child about wanting to see their belly button.  Just tell him yours fell off. 

  

(Charlie, upon the realization that Elmo has no belly button.)

Team Toolbelt, Team Charlie and Team Mommy

The boys made their NCAA tourney picks today. I figure that they know about as much as I do about this stuff, so I let them help pick my brackets. The boys wisely chose Kansas over Lehigh (with some encouragement from me), but when I asked them “Murray State or Vanderbilt?” the response was “TOOLBELT!! I get my tool belt!!” They spent the next 15 minutes hammering the playroom wall. Apparently if something is broken around here, it needs hammering. Not that the wall was broken, mind you, at least not prior to the hammering.
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Do you remember that story a year or two ago about that mom who was fed up with her preteen daughters bickering in the backseat and she made them get out of the car and walk a couple of miles home… and then later she got arrested???

I thought about that lady this morning. (Poor woman… guess she should have done a loop and picked the brats up… but still – arrested?!) I thought of her because today at Costco, I considered leaving Charlie in the snack food aisle. The second I put him in the cart he started a monster tantrum. Something about needing a nonexistent steering wheel and wanting to sit where Cooper and/or Zach were sitting. The screaming was irritating, but I’m numb to that. But after about 5 minutes in the store, the screaming turned to screeching and Charlie stood up in his seat, seat-belt be damned, and tried to jump out of the cart on top of me. Oh boy.

I suddenly turned into my mother. (No offense, mom). Between clenched teeth came: “CHARLIE TIME OUT RIGHT NOW,” and I plopped his skinny booty right down on the Costco floor, right next to monster tubs of Metamucil.

I pushed the cart a few feet away, and Charlie sat there bewildered and silent (!), just watching me. He couldn’t believe it. Neither could his brothers. And neither could Florence, the lady dishing out the free samples of protein bar at the end of the aisle.

Nothing to see here folks. I just ignored the passers-by and the gawking from Florence (though I did take her up on her free sample).

And when I put Charlie back in the cart a minute later, he was done acting the fool. A perfect gentleman the rest of the shopping trip.

So it worked. Truth be told, I was pretty proud of the victory… Score one for team Mommy.

Socks

I read this in a magazine this afternoon:

“When I read about the tip about safety-pinning socks together before throwing them in the wash, it  was like the clouds parted. I can’t believe I wasted all that time searching for missing socks when all I needed was a simple pin.” – Maria, Omaha


WHATEVER, Maria from Omaha.

Let me talk to you about socks.

We generally lose one sock before we even get around to putting shoes on in the morning. Not one pair, just one sock (usually Cooper's.  I think he eats them.) Three pairs of socks are generally toast five minutes after we've left the house.   (Those dang magnets in the mud puddles.)  And they're all wearing socks when I put them down for naps, but two hours later, two or three of those socks are gone.  Sometimes found across the room or stuffed down the side of the crib, sometimes (lots of times) not found.  Aliens.  Anyway, you get the picture.

If I were smart, I would have bought the boys plain, white socks only. I would have bought 50 pairs. But I’m not smart, and months ago I bought them lots of cute pairs of different socks. None of which now have matches.

So, unlike Maria from Omaha, not only do I not have time to safety pin socks together (and if you are reading this and you DO safety pin together all your socks before you wash them, I do not want to be your friend), I do not have matching socks.  Yeah, that’s my kid rocking one Thomas sock and one Elmo sock.   Ahhh-- but spring's almost here.  Three cheers for sandals...