The Toy Box Massacre

Now that Calen's birthday is over, the integrity of the foundation of our house is compromised due to the weight of the toy box. 

Usually after Christmas and birthdays we sort through the toy box and move things on that Calen hasn't played with in 100 years. Some are still good and I'll move them on to other kids (or throw them in safe keeping for Cam to play with in a few years). Some have been stomped on, thrown off a cliff into burning lava very well loved and need to be thrown away completely.

Usually I'm extremely clever and go through the toy box when the children are sleeping so that they won't even notice that certain forgotten toys collecting microbes on the bottom of the toy box are missing.

This time I was not as clever.

The boys were eating lunch. Calen was at his booster seat at the table. Which directly overlooks the toy box and the bookshelf type thing we have next to it that also holds toys and games.

So when I went over to the toy box with an empty Hefty trash bag, he had a front row view of what was about to happen.

The toy box is ALL his stuff. Cam's baby toys are in a basket in the bookshelf. So the toy box therefore is sacred ground (to a three year old). 

And there's mom opening the toy box holding a trash bag. I might as well have been holding an AK-47 in front of a bunch of blindfolded hostages.

I dig through the box and start pulling things out and putting them in the bag. They haven't been played with in MONTHS. They're on the very bottom of the box, collecting dust and God-knows what other organisms. They're probably even breeding. Calen doesn't even know they exist anymore.

I feel his little eyes burning through the back of my head. I tried to hide what I was doing. But I couldn't, and the inevitable happened.

"Mommy I want play with dump truck" 

It's a baby toy dump truck that he hasn't cared about since he was 1. He only has 391 other big boy dump trucks.

"Mommy I want play bike" 

I was only moving his bicycle outside...we had only brought it inside because it was raining, and then forgot about it for a week as it became "part of the house". He never even touched it.

"Mommy I want play this" 

Camden's cloth bibs that mistakenly ended up in there. 

"Mommy I want play this!!"

Cardboard.

"Mommy I want play this PLEASE!!"

A candy wrapper. I'm not even kidding.

Everything I pulled out, whether it be old toys he didn't care about, baby items or literal garbage, he suddenly NEEDED it right AT THAT MOMENT. And even when I would say "Calen, it's garbage!" or "No, it's time to give this to another little boy!" he would get so MAD and say "NO Mommy not give other boy!!!"

Over things he hadn't cared about in MONTHS.

This is the face of a sad deprived boy who's mom threw away ALL his toys. (Whatever, don't let those sad eyes fool you. His toy box is STILL overflowing).

He let me have it for a good while. Begging to play with these stupid items that he didn't REALLY care about, he just didn't appreciate me taking things out of HIS toy box and putting them in a trash bag and the potential of ever playing with them again was gone.

How rude of me.

I filled the trash bag full of old toys (and garbage..like cardboard...that he NEEDED) and put it outside (so he couldn't open it up and have an old toy rescue mission). The toy box was half empty and could fit all his new toys. 

Mission accomplished.

But to Calen it might as well have been a massacre.

For about 20 minutes.

Then he forgot all about the toys that he had already forgotten about once before.

See, I'm not that mean of a parent.

And then I took a trash bag to Cam's closet and threw away ALL of his clothes. (Gullible people are fun.)

 

 

A Memo to My 3 Year Old

I'm putting this up now instead of the evening like I usually do, because ummmm hello I actually have a kid-free date tonight with the hubby!

Yeah I know, I'm just as shocked as all of you. 

And because we're SO hip, cool and romantic, we're going somewhere cheap and greasy for dinner (like Sonic or Panda Express), and then going to the rodeo in Atlantic City. Because we are just a couple of Hollywood trendsetters.


Also because we got the rodeo tickets for free through the base. And who doesn't appreciate a good bull riding or calf hog-tie competition?

Especially the free kind?

If my 3 year old could read, there would be a yellow (actually probably hot pink, because it'll FORCE him to look at it) Post-It on the toilet seat with black permanent marker on it that went something like this:


"Dear Calen:

I know peeing standing up is pretty fun and awesome.

(Actually I don't know. But it looks fun.)

But if you're going to pee that way, please put the toilet seat up first so that when Mommy goes to sit down she doesn't wonder why her butt is suddenly all wet. 

And if you're going to sit down to pee, please push the essential body parts DOWN. So that when mommy walks into the bathroom, she doesn't wonder why her FEET are suddenly all wet. 


Seriously. We're talking like four feet away from the toilet people. 

Love, Mommy.

P.S. It's a darn good thing you're cute."

Having a potty trained boy isn't all it's cracked up to be.

At least he's actually IN the bathroom when he goes potty. And is sitting on the correct apparatus (or standing in front of it). We just need to work on fine tuning some aiming issues.


Though I've heard that most boys doing get the aiming issues down until they're like..50.  

The good news is that because of this my downstairs bathroom is scrubbed down like 4 days a week. It gets more attention than any other room in this house. 


There isn't enough Tilex on this planet.

My cute little potty cretin

Kitchen Adventures

This could also be titled "Things That Keep Our House Operational Volume 2". Which seems like it could be almost a weekly update because the kids' necessary household-sanity arsenal changes as often as the Mariners' pitching staff. What might have worked two days ago suddenly doesn't work anymore. (though the oven light attraction to Camden does still work)

The boys were in rare form today. "Rare" is turning into a little more common entity than I'd like. I can see that "three" is going to be a tough year.

And by 4pm both the boys were bonafide basket-cases so I had to get creative fast. So I dug into my mommy carpet bag.


And went onto Pinterest. 


Who are we kidding. Pinterest IS the mommy carpet bag of 2012. The present day mommy is far too busy keeping track of the newest 919103 civil laws that went into effect this month (and the latest episodes of The Bachelorette...I've never understood why people actually enjoy those shows) to be whipping up creative ideas to be keeping our children from gnawing on each other's arms. So we go to the Internet. And Pinterest is the mecca of all creative idea websites.


I got a fun recipe for English muffin pizzas. Which I thought was a really unique idea but APPARENTLY the entire world knows about English muffin pizzas. Except me. Until now.


This is why the Internet is essential in every household.


So I threw some pasta sauce, mozzarella cheese and pepperonis in three different bowls and toasted some muffins and split them, and threw it all on the counter. Then got Calen a stepping stool, and told him to make pizzas.

Calen took a break from eating spoonfuls of sauce to actually put some on the muffins.

Calen loved it. Especially using the big spoon to eat sauce. Just sauce. and cheese. JUST cheese. Not together, separately. 


Sometimes I'm not sure why I even bother making my kids meals. They just like ingredients. Like piles of shredded cheese. And spoonfuls of marinara sauce. I should just throw piles of random food items on their plates. Easier for me, and they couldn't care less.

Either way, he really liked making little "baby pizzas". And they were actually pretty tasty too. 

Meanwhile, while Calen was making pizzas, Camden was sitting on the kitchen floor, yelling.

Camden doesn't cry. He yells. He hollers. LOUDLY. 

PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!


So I filled up the sink and threw him in (he needed a bath anyways). He was excited, and Calen thought it was funny. And then Calen said:


"I want to take a bath in sink!"


My arguments of "you're three now, you're too big" ("No mommy I not too big!! I fit in baby bathtub sink") weren't holding up. And like I said, sometimes, you just have to do whatever it takes to keep the delicate balance of the house in tact.


So I stripped Calen down and threw him in the other sink (it's a double sink). 


He looked ridiculous. But he thought it was fantastic. And who the hell cares if it's an outrageous idea if the kids aren't SCREAMING, right?

Our newest renovations to our kitchen sink. Isn't THIS the most ridiculous thing you've ever seen? But hey, it kept the peace for 15 minutes.

 





 

Some Assembly Required

Will someone explain to me why every toy in the world comes in 391 pieces and requires screwdrivers to put together?

I mean, EVERY toy?

You pick out a toy at the store. It comes in a nice shiny colorful box with sweet pictures and words like "cool", "new!", and "awesome!" are slapped all over it.

It also comes with the words "some assembly required"

"some" is a lie. It should say "extensive expertise in carpentry, mechanics, rocket science and medicine is required."

I say "medicine" because usually I end up bleeding after attempting to get microscopic screws into a hole that is CONVENIENTLY behind 3 layers of plastic that no NORMAL human should be able to physically reach.

I also say "carpentry" because usually something in our house breaks after I throw the screwdriver across the house and it impales itself into one of our cupboards.

...that part is only a fantasy of mine.

Naturally the day after a kid's birthday is entitled "Assemble Everything In Creation Day". This morning I groaned when I got into the living room and saw a terrible pile of boxes full of toys that needed assembling. 

Assembling is Daddy's job. I don't have the patience to assemble. In fact Daddy assembled most of the toys yesterday. But he didn't get around to a couple of them.


But of course Calen NEEDED to be able to play with ALL of those new toys (at once), so I spent TWO HOURS assembling toys. 


TWO toys. 


TWO HOURS....for TWO toys. 


First of all, one was really big and I figured it would give me a run for my money. It's a super awesome construction site that Brad's folks got for him. However, the box was huge, so I assumed that maybe part of it was already put together. Like the mountain part with the crane on top.

Instead, the box was full of tons of AIR, and the mountain part was in like five pieces. That I had to screw together. With the smallest screws YOU'VE EVER SEEN (like, the kind that if you drop them on the floor, you might as well just go buy more because you will NEVER find it again). And the hole where all the screws went (12 of them) were in slots maybe eight inches deep that were probably no wider than a pencil eraser. 


So, how exactly am I supposed to screw these in?


It required small hands. I have small hands. But by small I mean like...my 11 month old's hands. And he couldn't help me (he would probably just munch on a handful of screws like they were Cheerios anyways). 


Therefore, it took me an HOUR AND A HALF to screw in this god-forsaken mountain. 


That entire hour and a half Calen is impatiently pestering me to BUILD THE CONSTRUCTION SITE PLEEEEEASE!!!!! HURRY MOMMY NOWWWWW!!"

I finally got the mountain done. The tracks and road didn't take long to snap together. And as soon as I finished, Cam crawled over, picked up the track, broke everything apart (except for the mountain, which will NEVER come apart for the next 27 years after all the screws I put into it).  


The construction site is now safely in Calen's ROOM where little brother can't get to it.

after an hour and a half, this awesome construction site was finally put together. Three minutes after this picture, Cam came and ruined it. And it was quickly moved to Calen's room.

Calen also likes his new found freedom of being able to go back and forth between his room and the living room without us following him. 

Except for that one time when he fell down the stairs.

I think kids should just come with four legs until the age of 8 just to keep their center of balance lower. 


THEN, not even twenty minutes after the mountain catastrophe, Calen wanted to play "Bugs", which was the game of "Cooties" (who doesn't love that game? I remember playing with it ALLLL the time) that my cousin got for him.


Cam was asleep so I figured it was safe to play. I opened the box and dumped out the pieces.


Some assembly required??? For COOTIES? REALLY?

Some assembly required. For COOTIES!! Come on!

All of the little legs, eyes, mouths, antennae etc were attached to those stupid plastic holder thingys. Because some factory bastard was so lazy they couldn't even take them apart and throw them in the box. So I had to spend the next half hour pulling little plastic legs apart. 

Kind of gruesome in a way. Almost reminded me of pulling legs off of crane flies when I was little.

Don't look so disgusted. You know you did it too.

The eyes even had an extra step: you had to peel eye stickers off and place them on the eye pieces. Would it really have put out the manufacturers that much by sticking the eye stickers onto the eyes before you shipped? Look, it even creates jobs! I'm helping the economy.

And let's not forget one toy assembly catastrophe yesterday: another toy SCREWED into the BOX. 


We've dealt with toys screwed directly into the box before. It's still just as stupid. I know people steal, but do you really think someone is going to be capable of walking out of a store with a double-toaster sized Caterpillar Excavator tractor that makes tons of noise?

Okay I know people can steal big things. Didn't some lady shove a Thanksgiving turkey down her pants or something? But Thanksgiving turkeys don't play music and make construction noises.

And if someone wanted to steal something THAT big, they'd probably just steal it WITH the box.
And the worst part about all these toys attached to the boxes with screws, or plastic tab things, or twine, or whatever is that is causes you to have to pick up that much more shit when you're picking up all the box debris to throw away. And those little security things are small and always end up under various furniture pieces or into certain babies' mouths. 


So I crawled around on the floor today finding all the little plastic security pieces, extra screws, etc. I thought I found everything. Then I went to vacuum tonight after the kids went to bed.


"WREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-CRUNCH!!! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLAAAAANG"


And just what the in HELL was that??

A screw. That I had missed. From the mountain-assembly-of-doom.

Poop. 

Luckily it seems that my poor vacuum has survived this near death experience. Otherwise Little Tikes would have owed me a new vacuum for their stupidness. 

Only a month until the NEXT kid's birthday in this house...where we get to do it all over again. 

 




 

You At Three

My little boy turned 3 today.

First of all: ::sobs, cries, wails, snot runs down my shirt, wipes nose, shakes it off::

Okay.

Second of all, I'm not sure who is more birthday'd out: Calen, or ME. I am completely and totally exhausted. And he didn't even have his party today! Between not getting much sleep the night before, getting up early and cooking birthday pancakes (I don't cook in the morning usually), listening to Calen BEG me to open his presents (and when I said he had to wait until daddy got home from work, it started a "where's DADDY at???" every 5 minutes for the next six hours), McDonald's for dinner and then cleaning up all of the wrapping paper, boxes, new toys etc and putting an especially overtired and cranky now-3 year old to bed.

This is what a hyper 3 year old that was just told he can FINALLY open his presents looks like

Today's post is a little different. I thought it would be fun to log all of his current loves and favorites. I've seen lots of "interviews" with kids on their birthdays to hear about what they're into that year and all that. #1) Calen won't sit in front of the camera long enough, and #2) he probably wouldn't bother answering my questions anyways, so I figured I'll just save a lot of time and energy and do it MYSELF. 

So here is Calen, at age 3.

Because NO little kid's birthday is complete with a happy meal

1) Favorite toys that he plays with EVERY DAY without fail: Thomas trains (the metal ones, and train table), matchbox cars, monster trucks, Lego Duplos

2) Favorite tv shows/movies: Thomas the Train, Yo Gabba Gabba, Caillou, Cars, Toy Story, Land Before Time

3) Favorite foods: Graham crackers, pizza, cheeseburgers, fruit (of any kind, but especially mandarin oranges), PB&J sandwiches, apple sauce, yogurt. And for dessert: popsicles/otter pops and ice cream.

4) Favorite activities: playing in the sandbox, reading books, going to the beach, toddler gym, going to the playground, playing with friends

5) Funny sayings he uses: "this is PERFECT! (about everything. "these shoes are perfect!" "This monster truck is perfect!" etc). "It hurts YOU" (he means "me"), ending just about every noun with an "s"

6) Favorite animals: dogs, cats, hippopotamus, dinosaurs (they're animals, right??)

7) Lovies that he HAS to sleep with: yellow blankie (old - it was Brad's, ugly, not soft, falling apart, but he loves it), stuffed puppy (that was actually a hot water bottle holder but the bottle was removed and he fell in love with it), stuffed hippo, "Spike" - a musical dog, and whatever the ESSENTIAL toy train, car or monster truck is that day.

8) things he HATES: getting dirty (seriously. He loves to play in the dirt but then flips out when he realizes that his hands are gross and DEMANDS a napkin), having his picture taken (in order to get him to smile I have to say "hey, let me see your teeth real quick!"), sharing with brother, eating vegetables, having his hair washed, going to the doctor.

And that's pretty much all I can think of for now. I'm turning into a puddle of tired brain dead mush on the couch so I'm going to throw on Netflix and decompress (and demand a massage from certain husbands).

Because I'm sure everyone wants to waste ten minutes of your precious time to look at pictures of MY kids, here is our annual slideshow of Calen's 3rd year here.

Happy 3rd birthday to my adorable sweet drives-me-bananas-but-I-love-every-minute-of-it man!






 

 

The "S" Word (Sharing)

Sharing sucks.

Do you think any kids actually LIKE to share, or is it just one of those obligatory parts of life that are force-fed to us from birth, that we never actually appreciate but do it anyways because if we don't we'll get arrested? (at least that's what we're told by our parents).

If that's the case, then sharing falls under the same category as paying taxes, cleaning litter boxes and eating vegetables.


Come one, no one actually enjoys eating vegetables. 

No one actually ENJOYS sharing, either, do they?

That's not totally true. Sometimes I enjoy sharing. But I think after years of being forced to share, you force yourself to enjoy it.

I like writing in italics. And short sentences. 

My two year old (it's the last day I can call him a two year old....WAAAAH!) does not appreciate sharing. Especially when the other participant in the sharing game is his baby brother. Baby brother doesn't ask first. He also makes all of his toys slimy and wet (and they seem to stay wet for DAYS. How does so much saliva come out of one little mouth?). And baby brother lunges himself off the carpet to snatch away one of Calen's toys, like a cheetah going after an antelope. Calen has no chance of defending himself. So I can't really blame him for not wanting to share.


But, it's one of those stupid life-lessons that we as parents have to instill into our helpless victims children. So, we force Calen to share with his brother.


We are truly, terrible parents.


Calen has learned how to negotiate with Brother. Sometimes he'll see Cam coming, quietly hunting one of his toys like a beady-eyed carpet hunter. Calen will quickly snatch away the prey toy, but before I can whip out a "Calen, give that back to your brother and share", he has already grabbed the nearest toy he can find and literally throws it in front of Cam. Cam is interested in the new object in front of him (usually), I'm satisfied that he's sort of sharing and Calen proudly wears a victorious grin.


See Mom, I'm sharing but I'm not ACTUALLY sharing. I win.

It doesn't always run this smoothly. More often than not Carpet Hunter Camden will head towards whatever Calen is doing, and Calen will flip his lid and shove ALL of his toys as far away from Cam as possible. Even if it's like 25 matchbox cars. He will.not.share.one. 


And then Mama tells him to share and Calen gets mad. 


He needs ALL 25 matchbox cars. At once. OBVIOUSLY.

Today, Calen took it to the next level. Cam was hunting Calen's monster trucks. Calen took about six monster trucks (because he needed ALL of them) and threw them in a pile on the couch. Then he laid on the couch next to them (with his blankie), closed his eyes and pretended to sleep...next to them....like a watchdog. He was so busy NOT sharing that he wasn't even playing with the monster trucks.

Calen "guarding" his cars from brother. Brother is about to pull himself up on the couch...and get knocked over.

When Cam cruised the couch over near Calen, Calen pushed him over. 

"NO BABIES!!!! MINES!!" (why is everything plural with him?)

Cam pulled himself back up and reached over Calen at the monster trucks. Calen pushed him again. Cam cried and Calen got in trouble.


Calen didn't see me turn my head and chuckle when he pushed him over the second time. No it wasn't really funny, but the fact that Cam wasn't giving up on the hunt and actually got back up to have another go at it made me laugh.

And then once Calen got in trouble and had to surrender ALL of his monster trucks to his brother, Cam wasn't interested anymore and resorting to playing with a storage tub.

Since there's nothing left to play with around here, Cam resorted to a tub

So, who is the victor in this battle, anyways? Calen because he didn't have to share his monster trucks after all, Cam for getting ALL of Calen's monster trucks taken away (and given to him), or me for teaching Calen how to share? Hmmmmm....

In other news, it was like 500mph sustained winds today. I bought Calen a $2 kite the other day and decided today was a great day to try it out after dinner. And it flew really well (what DOESN'T fly well in 500mph winds. We probably could have attached my truck to a string and watched it fly). Calen even held the string (so did I...because randomly Calen would just let go, and the kite would have been in Delaware by the time we caught up with it). It was a fun way to end the day, especially since running back and forth wore the hell out of Calen (right before bedtime....exactly how I planned).

When kites attack 4. A gust of wind sent this little plastic bastard shooting down from the sky and onto my head (and tangling me up in the ribbons). Right as a took a picture.

 

 

Things That Seem Good Ideas At The Time...

Sometimes I think I am so clever.

Actually, I am clever. What I really meant to say is that sometimes I'm so clever it backfires on me.

Bathtime is strategically placed after the messiest part of the day - dinner. Even though my toddler's eating habits have gotten much cleaner (almost obsessive...he HAS to have a napkin and freaks if something falls into his lap), he still manages to collect bits of dinner (usually sauce) all over random parts of his body that I thought were protected by a bib. 

Sauce is sneaky and likes to ooze it's way into as many nooks and crannies as possible.

The baby is a mess. He is always a mess. He gets messy before he even makes it to the high chair, usually. He gets messy just by breathing.
 
Therefore, bathtime is inevitable after dinner. Usually Calen is clean enough to go upstairs to the tub on his own. But Cam is usually a horrifying, sticky, bubbling, oozing swamp high chair monster. He's also usually naked (except for diaper...obviously), so he's especially slippery and slimy.

Spaghetti night always seems like a good idea at the time. 


Proper protocol for high chair monster removal is to pick up the oozing creature with four fingers (two fingers holding up each arm) and hold said creature as far out from you as possible. Then swiftly march upstairs and plop creature - diaper and all - into the tub. Allow family dog to follow you up the stairs to clean up whatever debris falls off creature.


It would just be easier if I fed my kids IN the bathtub.

BEFORE things went downhill....

Cam usually gets washed up first. Usually it's because I don't want to stare at dinner leftovers caked on him for the next half hour. Also because he bores of the tub quickly. So I washed him up, threw a clean diaper on him and let him roam around upstairs.


The clean diaper part is important. I used to let him roam around naked. Then he pooped all over the bathroom floor. And crawled into it. Dragging his belly through it. And I had to start all over with the bath. AND do an extra load of laundry since he smeared poop all over the bathroom rug. FYI.

Once Cam was out of the tub I had what I thought was a great game for Calen to play. Over Christmas we had acquired some Crayola bathtub finger paints. It's pretty much just tubs of gooey soap, but it's brightly colored and smells nice.

And what kid wouldn't want to smear bright primary colors all over the bathtub walls and get away with it? 

So I gave Calen the three tubs (blue, red, yellow) and let him have at thee. He loved it. The walls were colored, the tub was colored, HE was colored, the water was colored. AND the water was getting super sudsy which is extra fun. COLORED sudsy. What could go wrong?


It was a good idea at the time. 

Bathtub fingerpaints...a great idea...at the time.

And then, it was time to get out. The paints were used up and Calen was done. Well my clever self hadn't washed his hair yet. So I dunked a plastic cup into the water and poured it over his head.

And suddenly, I wasn't so clever.


The usual kid-friendly Crayola FAILED. The suds in the cup went over Calen's head, and burned his eyes. 


REALLY bad.


He screamed, cried, rubbed his eyes. Rubbing his eyes with his sudsy hands caused more to get into his eyes. And he cried. I took a cloth with FRESH water and wiped his eyes. He cried, and rubbed his eyes. And more soap got in his eyes. Rinse, and repeat (literally). 


It went on for ten minutes. Meanwhile Cam is behind me trying to crawl OVER me to get into the tub that's full of BURNING ACID SUDS. So with one arm I'm trying to pull Cam away from the tub (which caused Cam to scream angrily), and the other arm trying to keep Calen from rubbing his eyes and rinsing them with fresh water.


It was so loud in the bathroom that Brad came upstairs just to see what the hell was going on. He asked if I needed help.


Do I LOOK like I need help?? Things are CLEARLY under control....

I told him to pull the baby cretin off me and take him away so that I could deal with my soap acid victim and pull him out of the tub. I got him out, and the crisis had finally passed.

This was two days ago.

Today was bathtime again and the news that he had to return to the evidently deadly bathtub caused Calen to have a complete and total meltdown all the way up the stairs. 

Until he got in the tub and realized there were no evil bathtub paints. Then he was okay with the idea.

Apparently from now on we're steering clear of Crayola bath paint products. 

 

 

 

Keeping Little Boys Busy On Rainy Days

The weather here is SO bipolar. 

Yesterday (and the day before) was a stunningly gorgeous day. 75 degrees, sunny, slight breeze, low humidity. Reminded me of a lovely summer day in the Puget Sound back home. All the windows were open, back door was open, we were loving it.

And then I wake up today and it's barely 50 degrees, pouring down rain, low visibility, humid (despite the cooler temperature), windy, soggy, gross. 

The weather does this all the time.

It's no wonder everyone gets sick so often around here. 

Of course the tease of yesterday reminded Calen just how awesome playing outside in the sandbox is, so all day today he was begging to go play in the sandbox. I wasn't interested in letting him play in the soggy weather (mainly because he's still getting over the sickies) so I made him stay inside today.

We played with his new Thomas playset, colored, built lego houses and attack helicopters (hey, even lego Duplo sets come with cannons, sa-weet!), but boredom set in fast after a few short hours and we were in need of a creative new activity, fast.

So I went upstairs looking for things to do.

And stripped Calen's bed of all his blankets, pillows, and larger stuffed animals, and brought it all downstairs. And threw it in front of the couch.

And then told Calen to start leaping off the couch into the pile of blankets. 

Calen thought this was the best game ever.

Today's game of "throw yourself off the couch"

I was sitting on the couch next to the blanket pile with Camden on my lap. Cam was watching Calen, and then threw himself off my lap and into the blankets. And laughed. And then looked at me wanting me to pick him up.

So I did.

And he threw himself into the blankets. 

Over and over. With his brother. 

Camden wanted to play too. Aren't you supposed to prevent 11 month olds from falling off the couch?

The kids had a blast with this until Calen leaped too far and landed in a pile of legos.

"OUCH!!! IT HURTS YOU!!!!!" (he has a hard time of "I" vs "you". It makes me giggle). But it didn't stop him from promptly climbing back onto the couch and continuing the game. Over and over and over. For at least an hour.

I suppose it wasn't the most constructive way to spend an afternoon, but it sure kept them busy and laughing.

And hey, if we can make it through a game like this without any ER visits, then it's a success, right?

 

Family Outings

We went on a family outing today. All four of us. It was a beautiful day and I had some items to return up north and we had gift cards to Red Robin. Get stuff done AND have dinner and not pay for it? Score!


It seemed like a good idea at the time.


Short term memory loss caused us to forget about Calen's terrible mood the last several days. Or maybe my short term memory made me think that having two adults on this excursion might help the odds of preventing or treating any potential meltdowns. Either way, we packed up and headed to a strange land called Mays Landing.


Mays Landing isn't that spectacular. It just happens to be the closest shopping centre in the area ("close" is still 40 freaking minutes away. Call me crazy but there is plenty of open space between there and Cape May that could have been a good place for a Target or a Kohls). It's also pretty much a dump, like the rest of New Jersey. Run down malls, busy department stores, obnoxious Jersey people with their obnoxious Jersey Shore attitudes and a wonderful collection of cheap American restaurants (Chilis, Applebees, Famous Daves, Red Robin, all within like 2 miles). 


Doesn't sound that impressive, but for someone who lives on a tiny cape full of nothing but bed and breakfasts, overpriced local restaurants and gift shops, Mays Landing is a welcome mecca of consumer awesomeness.


Ahhh, just like home. Except it smells funny.


We went to Target. Because anytime I'm anywhere within a mile of a Target I HAVE to go in. It's like my little window to the real world. I returned an item and then we went in search of some random things. Things started to go downhill. Calen was whining in the cart about cheeseburgers. He wanted a cheeseburger. NOW. He clearly hadn't eaten in years (the apples and cheese in the car obviously didn't count) and was withering away. I told him he could have a cheeseburger when we went to Red Robin later. (it was like 3:30 in the afternoon).

Later for a toddler is basically saying never. Later will NEVER happen because by the time "later" rolls around, it's far too late and they will DIE before it happens.


Tears, whining and constant complaining about cheeseburgers resounded throughout Target. I told Calen "soon." Usually "soon" works better. He's usually a pretty patient kid. But yesterday's wretched case of the "No's" definitely had continued into today, so even saying "soon" wasn't working. We whisked ourselves out of Target as fast as we could.


Of course I got the slowest checker ever conceived by man. His name tag read "New Member". Which means he was inept and they weren't planning on keeping him. Even when I worked at Albertsons I had a name tag with my actual name on it the first day. So after 2982 minutes he finally run up my $18 worth of items and we escaped with our sanity, while Calen asked everyone in the parking lot if he could have a cheeseburger.


So we went to Red Robin. At 4:30 in the afternoon. Just like a bunch of senior citizens going after the early bird special. So that we could stop hearing about cheeseburgers.


I think I've figured out why older people eat dinner (out) so early. There was no one there. No one! And the waitstaff was probably only 45 minutes into their shift, so they were happy, and helpful, and not stressed with the dinner rush (yet). Food came fast and service was great. The older generation is on to something.


Calen finally settled down once he was seated with a menu and a promise of a cheeseburger, fries and mandarin oranges (and lemonade) on the way. He colored and played with his monster trucks and was very pleasant. Cam was quiet in his high chair stuffing his face with crackers and french fries. Brad and I looked at each other and it was a little surreal.


Were we going to get away with a dinner out with both kids acting like decent members of society?

Calen finally gets his cheeseburger. Meanwhile Cam is angrily staring some random stranger down.

Almost.


The mandarin oranges ran out. And I took away Calen's lemonade so he wouldn't pee 1039392 times before we left (we had a 40 minute drive home!). And I MADE him take 10 bites of the cheeseburger that he wanted so badly all day but then once he got it wasn't interested. All of these elements made Calen frustrated, angry, tired, done. But, he held it together, and he even got a little surprise. 


The Red Robin staff came and sang their little Happy Happy Birthday song to him (we lied and told him it was his birthday today instead of Tuesday) and gave him a free sundae. All was forgotten with a big glass of ice cream in front of him and he was all smiles. And then we gave him an early birthday surprise.


He got to go to Toys R Us after dinner and pick out something, anything he wanted.


By the time dinner was over it was 6:15. The kids are usually ready for bed by 6:30. But today was a special day and we wanted to do Toys R Us. Calen was jazzed on ice cream but Cam was exhausted. But we took them anyways. We put Calen in the cart and let him look at everything in every aisle (with exception of the pink aisles). We showed him big lego sets and awesome trucks and all sorts of things. 


But Calen seemed to KNOW what he wanted beforehand. He amused us and looked at things but he kept asking "I see all the trains?" So we took him to the Thomas section. 


And he picked out a train. ONE small, metal train (named Bash, from one of the Thomas movies he loves). We even asked him if he wanted a cool train playset that's from the same movie that he could play Bash on. But he said no. He wanted Bash. And only Bash. We went through the store and showed him all sorts of other things. But he kept saying the same thing.


"I want open Bash please?? I want Bash"


I remember my aunt telling me a story about how she took my cousin to the store when she was little and said she could pick out ANYTHING, and left with a cheap My Little Pony horse and one very happy little girl. 


The apple, it seems, doesn't fall far from the tree.

So we exhausted the store. We even showed Calen other Thomas trains and told him he could pick out ones in addition to Bash.


But he didn't want any. He wanted Bash. Only Bash.


So we checked out, and Calen walked out with a $6.99 Bash train, and was a VERY happy little boy. 


Which made me smile. He didn't need anything big and awesome. The smallest thing made him the happiest boy within 100 miles. (I'm sure).


We went ahead and bought him the Thomas playset anyways. We almost felt guilty walking out of the store only buying him a $7 train for his birthday. And a tub of Lego Duplos. Hey, just because he didn't want to be spoiled doesn't mean we couldn't. 

Calen was all smiles with his chosen birthday present: a tiny Thomas train

And then, we pushed our luck and went to the bookstore. The kids were exhausted and beyond bedtime. It lasted about 5 minutes. Cam was screaming in the stroller and Calen was upset that he couldn't buy every Berenstein Bear book in sight. So I let Brad shop and I rushed the boys outside so that they could melt down in the car. With the windows up. And the radio loud.

They were both asleep within 5 minutes. 

Calen NEVER sleeps in the car.

I think it was a successful outing. For the most part.  

The "No" Stage

Just about every two year old I have ever met has a serious case of the "No"'s. Everything is answered with "no!", even if it isn't a yes or no question. EVERY two year old.

Except mine.

In the constant obligatory competition between peers of "my kid can do this!" "Oh YEAH?! My kid has been able to do that for six months", Calen has usually been behind. He crawled late, walked late, and has been behind in speech and language comprehension. And even though I couldn't care LESS if your 13 month old can say "watermelon" (seriously why do parents get wrapped up in this whose-kid-can-develop-faster-race??), I could say:

At least MY kid doesn't say "NO" to everything. HA.

In fact, Calen rarely used the word "no" in his second year. Actually, everything was "yes". Even things that shouldn't be "yes" was answered with "yes, okay!". 

Hey Calen, do you want a sandwich? 

"Yes. Okay."

Is there an elephant in your pants?

"Yes. Okay." 


Do you want to go stuff yourself in the oven?


"Yes. Okay."


Which was annoying, but I would take it any day over the obnoxious "no" stage. I thought we were sitting pretty. Here we are less than a week away from Calen turning three (because a date on the calendar makes a difference as far as when stages can start...but I believed it), and we hadn't hit a "no" phase. And then, two days ago, something TERRIBLE happened.


The "No" stage had arrived.

EVERYTHING is No. Even things that he wants are answered with NO. And he KNOWS the difference between yes and no, so there's no excuse. 

And everything is not just a "no", but a whiny, drawn out, obnoxious "NOOOOOOOO!!" that with time could make anyone want to stab a pair of scissors in their ear.


Calen: I want go outside play sandbox.


Me: Okay, let's go get your shoes on and then you can play outside in the sandbox!


Calen: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! 


Me: You don't have to wear your shoes you can go barefoot...


Calen: NOOOOOOOOO!!!! No? No sandbox? No? NO!!!!!


Me: ....Okay then you can stay inside and play if you want.


Calen: NOOOO!!!!!!!!!


Me: Well what do you want exactly, Calen?

Calen: (quietly): .....No.

His other variant of "NO" is "I Not!" Which I think means "I will not". Not "I don't want", because he'll say that, but a very defiant "I WILL NOT." Even when it doesn't make sense. 

Me: Wow, cool monster truck buddy. He has awesome green wheels.


Calen: I NOT. 


The monster truck is clearly green. and it's clearly cool. There's nothing to argue about with this.


Four days of this. I think it's here to stay for a while.


If this is the start of the terrible THREES, since we skirted away from the terrible twos, then we are seriously in for it. 

Time to go buy a case of wine. 

NO! I NOT!

 

 









 

Coming of Age

I think I have something figured out here. 

I've figured out what MAKES little boys. I mean other than late nights in Mommy and Daddy's bedroom. That might be what makes BABIES but not what makes that baby a BOY. Except for the obvious anatomy. Did you know that "they" say if you eat lots of protein while you're trying to have a baby it supposedly increases your chances of conceiving a boy? Fun fact.


Wow we REALLY got off track here didn't we. Let's fast forward past the skin and just say you already have a baby boy. 


In order for that baby boy to turn into a REAL boy (this is how Pinocchio SHOULD have gone), you need three key ingredients.


ONE. A truck. Some kind of truck. Could be a dump truck, a firetruck, a police truck, any kind of truck as long as it has wheels. The larger the wheels, the more of a "truck" it is. This is the first essential key to Boy-ness. My kid acquired the truck trend at six months old. It isn't a hard one to start.


TWO. A projectile. It doesn't necessarily have to be a weapon (but your boy will most likely make it a weapon, whatever). It can be anything that shoots anything over an amount of space. Like a Nerf gun, a slingshot, a pitching machine, a cannon, or Calen's newest toy: a STOMP ROCKET.


Stomp rockets are pretty much the coolest things that any boy could ever own. Calen got one for his birthday yesterday from a friend. You put a foam rocket on a little hose attached to a big plastic pedal. You STOMP on the pedal, and the rocket goes FLYING. Up in the air, or at whoever/whatever you aim at. It's pretty fantastic. Calen never really cared about projectiles until today. But now, he can't get enough of them. This is just hours of fun.


Minus 100 mommy points for stomping a rocket onto our roof today. Whoops. 

Stomping rockets!! If you pay attention to the 2nd panel, you'll see the rocket in motion.

THREE. Bugs. Bugs are the last essential piece to this Trinity of boyness. I wasn't aware of this until today while we were outside (stomping on rockets). We found a traffic jam of thousands of little ants on the sidewalk. I showed Calen. Again, Calen has never really noticed bugs before (other than the TICK we found on his blankie yesterday...EWWWWW). 

But suddenly, today, his coming of age moment arrived. He got down on his hands and knees, and very carefully examined all of the bugs. 


And then, he took his toy monster truck, and drove over ALL of the ants.

And then went back to stomping on his rocket.


We have arrived.

Discovering ants. Moments later, he drove over all of them with his monster truck.