Sunday, September 27, 2009

Land Ho!

Remember when I commented on how we were raising sailors?

While working on the "s" sound and the "a" sounds today, my son says, matter-of-factly, Hey Mom, "a" (the short sound) and "s" make A**.

Oh dear, what have I done?

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

They are Definitely Related!

*in my haste, this was actually posted on my other blog...whoops...I moved it here though!

Both the boys are very expressive. Willard uses lots of words and motion, and he can't stand still-it isn't possible. Maynard uses emphasis and big gestures and big eyes.

If you ask Willard what he dreams about, be prepared:

I woke up and I felt the ground shake (shaking his head back and forth)...I looked outside and it was a Tyrannosaurus Rex! But it was a different Tyrannosaurus had a sail on his back. And then I went in the basement-we didn't live in this house-and I started to shiver (he shakes) and it wrecked right through the kitchen. In the morning, everyone was killed, except our neighbors (they just moved in, and he is pumped about that), and not Trace (a friend of his). Then I helped everyone build their houses back up.

Then, Maynard comes running out of the bathroom, arms spread out as wide as they can go, eyes big:

We saw a MASSIVE pider! So we TILLED it (slapping hand down), PITD (picked)it up, put it IN THE TOIWET (making a dropping motion), and FWUSHED it down!

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Looks Innocent, Right?



We only have 1 bathroom. We have a rule where, if someone is in the bathroom, and you can't hold it...then you can pee outside. This is a rare occasion, but it works...I mean...worked. They are supposed to pee next to the garage.

Earlier, Willard was going poop. Maynard went in there and told him he had to pee. I overheard and told him to go pee outside. He gets his shoes on, and walks to the door. The door opens. It stays open. Closing doors isn't common around here, and it seems around 30 times a day I have to bark at someone about shutting the door. I glance up and bark...Shut the door!

Then I hear liquid. On concrete.

After a second, I realized he was peeing on the sidewalk. I hopped up to find him standing in the doorway of our back door, peeing. My camera was laying on the counter, and I snapped two pics.


I asked him why he didn't go out next to the garage. He said, "It's too hot out 'dere."


At least he missed the Welcome Mat!

Tuesday, September 1, 2009



I don't really like them, either. I know they have their place, but, I prefer that place to be far away from me! I scream like a little girl when they land on me too.

Have you ever tried to walk with two boys down a sidewalk FILLED with grasshoppers? Let me tell takes forever. But it is so darn cute when they "spook" them and they jump up and scare the pants off the boys....they yell out a squeal, then giggle, then find the next one. Unfortunately, they have also become, how shall I put this..."less than benevolent" toward them, so inevitably, I have to grab their hands and guide them and keep saying "keep away from the grasshoppers!"

Have you tried to walk past a flower garden with grasshoppers EVERYWHERE:


(insert shiver here)

Why do they look at me like that?

Although, I have figured out a way for all these critters to be kept under control.

I know that there are many chicken farmers that keep their chickens locked up (not so much around here, but...go with me on this)...why not let the little birdies go free range for a while and plump-them-up the good old fashioned way!? Maybe even get movable fences to protect them from predators...Just a thought. Fresh air and exercise + grasshopper population decreasing = Win/Win Situation!

One Tough Cookie


Maynard is a climber. Before he turned two, he was climbing up obstacles at the park. He is no stranger to falling, bumping, and tripping. He is also the younger brother, so he gets his fair share of "tough love" from Willard.

Knowing this inherited trait would manifest itself in many ways, when we decided to get "bunk" beds for the boys, we knew that the tall ones just wouldn't work. We opted for the loft-style, where the top bunk is less than 5 feet off the floor.

Willard sleeps on the top bunk. Maynard sleeps on a mattress underneath, since he is always moving-even in his sleep! Many mornings we (I use this term loosely, since, well, I sure like my sleep!) have found him sprawled out in the middle of the floor, snoozing away.

Maynard is also very stubborn. He has to be the one who decides what is going to occur in his little world. Something as simple as, do you want the green bowl or the yellow bowl has turned into a nightmare, so, I just set out a couple and have him pick without saying a word...I've got to pick my battles!

He has been asked not to go on the top bunk, but being the strong-willed boy he is, he is determined to be up there. He manages to bring all sorts of toys, sticks, blankets, up there too. And shoes.

Before he went to bed last night, a crash is heard from the other room. Not just a thud sort of crash, but a ting-tang, walla-walla-bing-bang crash. It sounded as if he bounced back and forth between the wall, the door, the ladder, and the floor.

I rushed to their room, almost before all his limbs were on the floor. He is behind their closed door, so I had to push him over to get in. I hunched down by him and he just laid there screaming. I asked him to lay still and show me where it hurt. He pointed to his forehead, and then crawled into my lap, and slowly, his crying slowed. I sat quietly, and rocked him for a couple minutes. Then he whimpered, "Tan you pwease det me oudda here?"

I picked us up, and went to the living room. I sat on the couch, and he, still in my lap, nestled up to me and peered into my eyes.

All the emotions and memories of him as a young child came flooding back to me-instantly. We had cuddled hundreds of times before last night, but because he is a ball of energy, the cuddles are but moments, wriggly, loud moments.

Still and Quiet, (two words I don't think I have ever used to describe him) he laid there, looking at me.

I asked him if his fall scared him. He nodded, still peering. I said, "You must have been really scared." He nodded again.

He kept looking. Then I realized something.

He trusted me.

This little boy, who earlier in the day, told me he hated me cause I wouldn't make him some toast before dinner, trusted me...The mother who makes him brush his teeth. The mother who isn't a big fan of mud or mud puddles.

I haven't felt that "feeling" in over 2 years. I stopped nursing him almost 2 years ago, and I guess I forgot what that feeling was like--the one where they look to you as their only sense of hope in their lives.

We stared at each other, quiet and still, for a couple more minutes. I kept an eye on his forehead for a mark, and his eyes...were they dilating correctly? Slowly, his gaze shifted from my eyes to my neck. He started asking what "dis" was, as he pulled on my neck, and "what's dis?" as he poked my collar bone. Although, I felt 10 years older, I proceeded to tell him why my neck is the way it is.

Now that he is ready to talk I asked him, "Are you going to be okay?"

He sorta whined and said, "Yeah."

I said, "You know, you are one tough cookie."

He groaned, almost like he was giving in to a repeated demand..."OHHHHHTAAAAAY, I'll haf a tootie." (Said like cookie, but with the "t" sound.)

I chuckled a bit, partially because he thought I actually offered him a cookie. (Which is another reason why he hates me, since I don't feed him a constant supply of tooties, especially right before bed!), but mostly because of the tone of his voice.

I then tried to explain what the phrase "tough cookie" meant. I think he really tried to understand, especially when I likened it to when you drop a cookie and it doesn't break. Fortunately, he wasn't all that bummed about not getting this cookie, probably cause he wasn't in the mood to say, BUT MOooOOOmmMMMM...

And as fast as he fell, he sat up, kissed me on the cheek (complete with smooch sound!), and jumped off my lap and went about his night.

He sure is one tough cookie.