Pete Battery Checkup

So its been a while . . and we're into the stage of 'good stuff' from my now almost 3 year old son, Buddy Bagah. Here are a few of his latest . . . .

The bottle of red stuff with a picture of a tomato on the front of it is checkup. It is not catsup or ketchup, it is checkup and he will swear to his dying day that it is checkup :)

Lately, I have been sneaking up on Buddy B and saying Psssssssst. It makes him giggle and reply: Peeeeeeete. I always ask him, 'who is Pete?' Say it out loud and you will see that psst and pete are not that far apart to the human ear :)

I think this is the best by far though. The toilet in the master bathroom has a broken flapper (ok I never said I was a plumber so no need with the technical names for these things), so to combat the constantly running toilet, Daddy has turned off the water to the potty. After a long night little Buddy B had to potty and came into Mommy and Daddys potty to go. Upon flushing, his statement to Daddy was ' Daddy, the toilet needs new batteries'

Ah, motherhood, priceless treasures!

Quite the Week

Well its been quite the week, I must admit. Tuesday while getting a chair massage, I fainted and not from being beyond relaxed . . . we still dont know what from but for the next 30 days I'm the lucky recipient of a heart even monitor. . . . . . and if today didnt set it off, nothing will! :)
Hubby and I decided to watch a movie . . .no small feet with 2 young children. I think I counted 7 times that we paused the movie, and that was just in the first 40 minutes. Snuggle down and into the movie . . .until about 40 minutes to its end and we hear BAM and then waaaaaahhhhhhhh . .. . I have to tell my husband to pick up his son as he is so into the movie he is not really noticing his son wailing on the floor next to him. With that he hops out of his chair, scoops up my son and Im up faster that you can asked what happened as I notice the blood streaming down my sons face. My husband yells for me to get dressed (I was LOUNGING on a SUNDAY morning for goodness sakes!) and we rush Bagah off to the ER.
4 stitches on the right side of his forehead, a new bear and a popsicle later we leave the ER to come home and 'rest' on this God given day.
No worse for the wear and no events recorded . . .well, at least not on the heart monitor.
Oh, the treasures of Motherhood . . ..

Eggs

So we are driving to the sitters this morning and Sassy says to me 'Well, Mommy, I cant eat deviled eggs anymore, what am I going to do?'

Me, only half listening due to the fact that we are already late and Im concentrating on traffic simply reply 'huh, oh sure'. And then about 30 seconds later 'what, why not?'

Well, I cant eat them or Ill get pregnant, she replies. I just about choke and try not to laugh and say what on earth made you think THAT?

She replies very innocently, 'you Mommy, you told me that eggs make babies'.

Well so much for the 'condensed' version of the birds and the bees I think.

Oh the treasures of Motherhood!

Things are not always as they seem

My naked butt is 'bongos'

They are 'chinese braids' not frech braids

Bagahs name is 'Zekie', which is not his real name

Remotes are comotes, we've worked on this one and pretty much have it right now

Flower petals are 'flakes' (her Auntie put flower decals on her fingernails and she kept loosing a flake)

Burger King is Booger King (ewwww)

Lemons were Yemins (Uncle Ronny helped her fix this one!)

The 10 minute ride home

Its been a rough day at work and Im headed to the sitter to pick up the kiddos. We get out of the sitters without event and I get my son in the car while Sassy attempts to open her car door.
'Mom, My hands are raining'
'um no, I dont think so, get in, MOMMY is getting rained ON.

We pull to the light at the end of the street, where there is a Hardee's.
'Mom, look a Dairy Queen'
'No, there is no Dairy Queen'
'Yes there is. Look. Behind the Hardees'
'There is NO Dairy Queen'
'Yes there is'
'No'
'Yes there is'
Ok Im done with THIS part of this conversation.

'Why did the underpants say BOO to the Banana'?
'I dont know Sassy, why?'
'Because the Banana was HUNGRY, get IT?'
Dont worry I didnt either.

'Mom is a vegetable a fruit?'
'No Sassy a vegetable is a vegetable'
'Can I watch Veggie Tales, dressed up as a Pirate?'


'I want Spaghetti for dinner' Sassy says
'Does Daddy have hockey tonight?'Sassy asks
'Can I put a dress on when I get home?' Sassy asks
'Get Bagah out of the car first tonight' Sassy says

'Are we home yet?' Mommy asks . . . . .

Oh the treasures of Motherhood!


'

Queen of Klutz

So its official, Sassy is now the Q of K (Queen of Klutz). We went to a friends lake house over the weekend and I kept saying hold on, slow down, dont run, etc. This didnt seem to stop her, slow her down or help.
Walking to the dock, you walk the length of 6 2 x 10's. There is then another set of 6 2 x 10s to finish the boardwalk to the dock. BETWEEN these boards, there is a space, no larger than, hmm say the size of a small childs FOOT (are you going there with me yet?) :)
So the youngest girls are down fishing on the boardwalk, I am up in the house with Baga, keeping him occupied AWAY from the water and I begin to hear my daughter WAILING. I dont think much of it, she IS a drama queen. As the screaming and wailing gets louder I think I better look to see what might be going on. My daughter and hubby are now out on the screened in porch, my daughter on my husbands lap with her legs splayed open as wide as they will go. My eyes dart to her upper thigh (inches below her private parts mind you) and the scrapes and bruises there. She has managed to fall down between the boardwalk boards all the way to her torso and she had to be pulled out (or so Im imagining as Im not quite sure how Dad got her up to the porch and really dont ask for the details). I kick into action and get the peroxide and we clean her up. The owners of the house and dock feel horrible that they never noticed the gap between the boards, and Im thinking uh no, I feel horrible that my daughter is so klutzy!

The same night the kids are playing in the upstairs bedroom, which is loaded with bunks to the ceiling . . . . . which has a ceiling fan on it. Lets do the math on this one. Kids + beds to ceiling + ceiling fan = . . . . You guessed it. One girl decided hand spinning the fan would be fun. Oh yes, all was fun until my daughters head got in the way! (No marks to speak of for THIS klutzy fun).

Sunday, we are getting ready to leave and the Queen of Klutz is again on the prowl. She is RUNNING with FLIP FLOPS on, into the bathroom with a FURRY RUG right in her path. Are you seeing THIS ONE coming? :) I am standing on the porch with my son in my arms and looking through the sliding glass doors at the impending scene of doom before me. It happens in slow motion. Trip goes her foot and slam goes her face into the corner of the vanity in the bathroom. Oh SH*^ says Mommy as she all but throws down Baga and runs for the bathroom. Luckily the owner of the house is a good Mommy and she is yelling "Ive got him" as I tear into the bathroom to peel my daughters face off of the vanity. We put some frozen hot dogs on her face (almost as good as frozen corn) and settle in to bring down the swelling and calm down. She is still crying many minutes later and I finally ask her if it hurts that bad, thinking she has shattered a cheek bone or something . . . . no, she is crying because she thinks the pontoon boat has left without her and wants to go boating.

She might be the Queen of Klutz, but shes as tough as nails (which is a good thing apparently!).

Oh the treasures of Motherhood!

TINY adjectives

So we went to my mother-in-laws over the weekend. Let me set the scene for you. She lives in a TINY one bedroom apartment. So to fit her tiny one bedroom, she has a tiny full size bed. The hubby is a xx-large size kinda guy. Not FAT, just the kind of guy that if you run into him while playing hockey you bounce off of him and he thinks a flea has hit him. I'm built just like Marilyn Monroe minus the top half and the white blowy dress (LOL). Anyway, we wake up at 6 AM to drive 2 hours to go visit the TINY apartment. Not wanting to drive 2 hours home after a day of boating and NOT a TINY amount to drink, I put my son down in the squeezed in pac-n-play (which hardly fits at the foot of the bed) and let my daughter sleep on a palette in the living room with NaNa diligently watching her from her sleeping perch of the sofa. Im JUST falling asleep and in comes the hubby. He every so gently crawls in bed and I am immediately rolled to the bottom of the abyss that has been created in the middle of the bed. I readjust and finally fall asleep (10 PM).
11:30, the dogs begin to bark. Somewhere. Somewhere CLOSE to the window that is also CLOSE to my head.
11:45 the neighbors above the TINY apartment must have been roused by the barking dogs (which didn't sound TINY) and they STOMP to the bathroom.
1:20, my husband shakes me awake from a dream that I am having about my grandma, who is only a pair of hands in my dream, the rest of her is invisible and she is getting ready to stab me in the back (a metaphor of which I am sure of as she wouldn't hurt anyone!). Hubby says 'wake up'. no you are having a bad dream, no r u ok, just WAKE UP.
2:30, hubby wakes up hot (which it is, Ive just been tossing and turning in my own sweat) and decides to set up a box fan. Drops the box fan LOUDLY in the TINY bedroom against the TINY dresser. Lord.
3:30, the bedroom door creaks (LOUDLY) open and Im so bleary eyed that I decide Im not going to even see who it is. So instead the hubby says, Sassy why are you in here? Of course at which point I slit open my eyes to see the outline of my daughter in our TINY room and she proceeds to say ' Mommy, I just saw a ghost.' I mumble uh huh. She says 'I did, in the corner', it was big and scary. At the same time hubby is telling her to go back to bed, I am saying come on and crawl in bed with us (as I vowed as a little kid to never turn my kids away at night if they were traumatized about something). Up into the TINY bed she comes, between me and mammoth man. She fits nicley into the middle of the bed abyss and I now fit nicely on the edge of falling out of bed.
3:30-6, pushing feet out of my butt, knees out of my back, elbows out of my gut and hands and hair out of my face. ug
6, Bagah (my son, Bagah is his FAVORITE word) who has 'slept' through all of the drama is now 'playing' in his pac-n-play. Thumping his feet excitedly on the bottom of his pac-n-play to listen to the cool loud banging it makes. He is wearing footed pajamas that are 'grippy' on the bottom of them, so it is ALSO cool to drag our feet across the mesh of the pack- n-play as fast as we can to hear the awesome sound it makes which is close to grating a walnut on a cheese grater.
6:20, Rustling at my side, Good Morning Mama! (oh God, PLEASE let her not see that it is light out), too late, she has. Hubby says its NOT morning. Sassy says can I go see NaNa? YES, GO.
6:25, I pick up Bagah and set him OUTSIDE the TINY bedroom and shut the door. The TINY bedroom just got BIGGER!

Later I learn that the ghost was a Pumpkin Monster, which later the same day turned into a Pumpkin Headed something or other. Books, movies, something I SWEAR she is going to be writer!

Oh the treasures of Motherhood!