Sunday, June 27, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Some Pictures
I went to visit my mom (and various other extended family. Howdy y'all!) in the big D last week. I took a few pictures and couldn't wait to play with Photoshop with them. Now, for your viewing pleasure.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Laura and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day
Ok, that's a bit melodramatic. But then again, if you know me, then you know it's me. My sweet husband left on a much anticipated hunting trip this morning (don't ask what he's hunting, in case some PETA loving fools are browsing my blog and decide to come chain themselves to our front porch or something) and left me alone with our sweet almost 3 year old. Now, I am in no way, shape or form afraid to be alone with my child. I've actually been looking forward to a little bonding time. I'm a teacher (you hadn't picked up on that yet?) so when summer vacation comes, I can't wait to spend time with my little angel. My little angel has been just that for the majority of his time as a 2 year old, which is shocking because these are supposed to be terrible, right? Well, he must have caught wind that he's about to turn 3, and therefore, will no longer be allowed to act like a heathen, so he's making up for lost time, cramming in attitude from every which way he can. On top of that, Dad, aka the Enforcer, is 2 states away, so you can imagine what is happening around here. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After my husband left this morning, we watched a couple of movies (by movies I mean "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Twice.) My son reminded me that he hadn't taken his vitamin yet, so with "I want, I want, Kitchen, vitamin" I went to get him the vitamin. FYI, my son is not a health nut. He has no concept whatsoever that the vitamin is doing him any good. The vitamins themselves look like fruit snacks and I think he believes he's getting a treat when he gets one. He does know that he's only supposed to have one a day, but that doesn't stop him from trying to get me to give him one after I get home from work during the school year when he knows good and well that dad gave him one early in the morning. But I digress. I went to get him the vitamin, and proceed to take off the cap. The annoying, child proof cap. For 10 minutes, I tried to take off the cap, while my son said "I want, I want, I want, I want," over and over again like a broken record, but my puny little T-rex like arms just won't make it open. Try telling your sweet angel he can't be healthy today with his delicious vitamin. Let's just say he did not take the news well.
Then we ate leftover pasta (or noodles as he calls it), but really I ate, and he just played in it. By this time it was 12:30, and the all important nap time was upon us. After a 2 hour nap (I read a book on the porch swing, listening to it rain. It was delightful.), he woke up while I had just started a recorded show on the DVR. He immediately brought me the controller and said "different." Translation: "Mom, I do not care that you used to be a dancer, and that now you feel you are getting older and out of shape, so for the sake of nostalgia, you are watching people much younger and much better dancers than you ever were try to reach their dream of becoming America's favorite dancer, but I really think I deserve to watch what I want to watch. Mostly because I'm the baby and you gotta love me." (Dinosaurs, anyone?) I said, "No, you have watched a lot of things, and it's my turn to watch something." Of course this brought on tantrum #1. I actively ignored. Seeing he was getting nowhere, he walked to the DVD cabinet, turned and said "Pick one?" "No, honey," I said, "I'm watching something right now, but when it's over then you can pick one." Begin tantrum #2. Still actively ignored. Again getting nowhere, he opened the DVD cabinet and took out all the DVDs. When I didn't say anything, he pretended to cry. Then he began opening the DVD cases and taking out the DVDs. This is the point where I stood up to take the DVDs away to prevent damage and, of course, that brought on tantrum #3. He finally realized he was getting nowhere fast, and resigned himself to playing with hot wheels in his room until he decided on a new angle. "I want, I want, kitchen..." means it's time to eat and it better be something he personally find appealing. I prepared a smorgasbord of crackers, cheese slices, and pears. After depositing this on the table, he took one look at it, looked at me and said "Peanut Butter." (Whenever he says peanut butter, he says it with a southern accent. I don't think I say peanut butter with a southern accent, but then again, I didn't know I had a southern accent until I moved north of the Mason-Dixon line. Maybe it creeps back in with the mention of peanut butter.) I fixed the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and laid it on his plate. This brought on tantrum #4. Somehow, using my super human mom skills, I finally figured out he wanted me to tear the sandwich up into small bites. Ok, crisis averted. That is, until he picked up the cheese slice and then held it out to me. Fresh off my solving the peanut butter sandwich conundrum, I tore up the cheese slice. However, they weren't perfectly square, so this brought on tantrum #5. You think I'm kidding, but alas. I had to tear off the uneven edges of each piece before he would eat it. Eventually, the lunch met his standards and he ate his fill.
Because I was sticking to my guns on this one, I finished my show and announced that we would be heading to town to go to the store. My son loves the store, so he ran to his room to help me pick out some clothes. We got dressed and headed in. We hadn't been anywhere in a couple of days, so I drove around a little bit, letting him tell me where to go. He recently learned left and right, and he had a good time putting his new knowledge to use. We eventually got to the store, and went inside. I got a cart and went to pick him up to put him in the seat. He took off like a shot to the watermelon display they had just a few feet from the door. "Melon!" he yelled. "Honey, there is no way that you can eat all that melon by yourself," I said. (Goodness knows I don't eat fruit! Gross!) The look on his face meant surely tantrum #6 was on the way. I scooped him up and tried to set him in the basket. I had him under the arms, and as soon as he realized what was going on, he drew his legs straight up in front of him. He looked like the male gymnasts when they are doing the rings or the parallel bars, where they look like they are sitting in the air. We struggled for a minute, but he eventually got in, and we completed our short shopping trip without any further issues.
When we got home, I turned on the movie I'd promised him (Pumpkin move, again. Do you see a theme here?) and went to make dinner. I found these chicken nuggets earlier in the day and thought they would be hit. As I began to get out the necessary items, I hear a distinct voice saying "climb, there, carry" which of course means he wants to sit on the counter and watch. "No problem, little man, I'd love to let you watch." I set him on the counter top, while I went about my business on the island. I heard him chattering away in mostly nonsense words, but I wasn't really paying that much attention. Until I realized it was silent. Then I was paying a lot of attention. I looked over, and he had taken the lid of the sugar container. He was just sitting there smiling at me. I couldn't resist his super cute smile, so I smiled back. "Down?" he said, ever so sweetly. "Sure thing, sweet potato." I straight arm picked him up without using my hands (I was breading chicken, give me a break) and that's when I noticed the HUGE pile of sugar on the counter top. I turned to get onto him, but he was already in the other room. He knows when to hit the floor running, I see. Seeing as my hands were covered in chicken, butter, and breading, I decided the sugar wasn't hurting anyone and that I'd clean it up when I was done with the chicken. In the meantime, my cute as a button son came back in and took the measuring cup I'd been using. No problem, I was finished with it. Until I realized that he was over at the huge pile of sugar on the cabinet scooping it up into the cup. Momentarily dazzled by the fact that he is tall enough to reach the sugar pile on top of the counter, I told him to go dump it in the trash can. He loves to put things in the trash can, so I really wasn't worried about this direction. I continued with my chicken until I heard an ominous sound. Just so you know, when a child giggles, it probably isn't good. This is when I learned that instead of dumping the cup of sugar into the trashcan, he has dumped it into the open washing machine. Fortunately, the machine was empty at the time, and it was just sugar, so it should dissolve in the next load. Only time will tell.
By this point, I'm finished with the chicken and have put it in the oven. It was beginning to smell downright delicious, and I was chomping at the bit to get it out of the oven and try it. That is when the smoke detector went off. I know they have to be loud enough to wake up a sleeping person, but dang, I was right there. I figured out that by waving the oven mitts in front of the device, it would stop going off. (There was no smoke, by the way, it just goes off sometimes when the oven is at 400. I have no idea why. It just does. A mystery of life, I suppose.) They continued to bake and look heavenly, and then the stupid smoke detector went off again. I reached for the mitts to do my fan and wave technique, but they weren't there anymore. That's when my son walked in, wearing them on his arms and yelling "Mittens!" Fabulous.
I reclaimed the "mittens" for myself, took care of the shrill noise, and took out the chicken nuggets. I tasted one just to make sure it was done, and then tasted 5 more to make sure they really were ok. (These were the best homemade chicken nuggets I've ever had.) I was just setting down a plate of nuggets and a bowl of corn for my little baby when the phone rang. I went back to the kitchen to answer it, and when I walked back into the living room after saying hello, there was a small pile of corn on the couch. I began talking to my co-worker while I picked up the pile of corn. I walked to the trashcan (where a cup of sugar had NOT been previously dumped), threw the corn away, and just as I was wiping my hands, I heard another ominous sound. "OOOOOOPS!" I returned to the living room to find the entire bowl of corn on the floor, and my dear little child trying to sweep it under the couch. I got off the phone, cleaned up the mess, and finally got him to settle down and eat supper.
Once supper was over, and everything was cleaned up, I announced that it was time for a shower. My son loves showers, or baths, or pretty much anything involving water. So you can imagine my surprise when he screamed "No!!!" and ran away. My child has said no about a lot of things, but taking a shower is not one of them. I had to physically place him in the shower. Of course, after business was taken care of, he refused to get out. Go figure. After I finally extracted him from the shower, got him into pajamas, tried to get him to say goodnight to his dad on the phone, and then wrestled him into bed, I think it's needless to say I'm exhausted. I will indeed sleep well tonight. At least, I hope I do. Because come dawn's early light, I'm pretty sure I have to do it all over again. But you know what? I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. It must not have been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day after all.
After my husband left this morning, we watched a couple of movies (by movies I mean "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Twice.) My son reminded me that he hadn't taken his vitamin yet, so with "I want, I want, Kitchen, vitamin" I went to get him the vitamin. FYI, my son is not a health nut. He has no concept whatsoever that the vitamin is doing him any good. The vitamins themselves look like fruit snacks and I think he believes he's getting a treat when he gets one. He does know that he's only supposed to have one a day, but that doesn't stop him from trying to get me to give him one after I get home from work during the school year when he knows good and well that dad gave him one early in the morning. But I digress. I went to get him the vitamin, and proceed to take off the cap. The annoying, child proof cap. For 10 minutes, I tried to take off the cap, while my son said "I want, I want, I want, I want," over and over again like a broken record, but my puny little T-rex like arms just won't make it open. Try telling your sweet angel he can't be healthy today with his delicious vitamin. Let's just say he did not take the news well.
Then we ate leftover pasta (or noodles as he calls it), but really I ate, and he just played in it. By this time it was 12:30, and the all important nap time was upon us. After a 2 hour nap (I read a book on the porch swing, listening to it rain. It was delightful.), he woke up while I had just started a recorded show on the DVR. He immediately brought me the controller and said "different." Translation: "Mom, I do not care that you used to be a dancer, and that now you feel you are getting older and out of shape, so for the sake of nostalgia, you are watching people much younger and much better dancers than you ever were try to reach their dream of becoming America's favorite dancer, but I really think I deserve to watch what I want to watch. Mostly because I'm the baby and you gotta love me." (Dinosaurs, anyone?) I said, "No, you have watched a lot of things, and it's my turn to watch something." Of course this brought on tantrum #1. I actively ignored. Seeing he was getting nowhere, he walked to the DVD cabinet, turned and said "Pick one?" "No, honey," I said, "I'm watching something right now, but when it's over then you can pick one." Begin tantrum #2. Still actively ignored. Again getting nowhere, he opened the DVD cabinet and took out all the DVDs. When I didn't say anything, he pretended to cry. Then he began opening the DVD cases and taking out the DVDs. This is the point where I stood up to take the DVDs away to prevent damage and, of course, that brought on tantrum #3. He finally realized he was getting nowhere fast, and resigned himself to playing with hot wheels in his room until he decided on a new angle. "I want, I want, kitchen..." means it's time to eat and it better be something he personally find appealing. I prepared a smorgasbord of crackers, cheese slices, and pears. After depositing this on the table, he took one look at it, looked at me and said "Peanut Butter." (Whenever he says peanut butter, he says it with a southern accent. I don't think I say peanut butter with a southern accent, but then again, I didn't know I had a southern accent until I moved north of the Mason-Dixon line. Maybe it creeps back in with the mention of peanut butter.) I fixed the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and laid it on his plate. This brought on tantrum #4. Somehow, using my super human mom skills, I finally figured out he wanted me to tear the sandwich up into small bites. Ok, crisis averted. That is, until he picked up the cheese slice and then held it out to me. Fresh off my solving the peanut butter sandwich conundrum, I tore up the cheese slice. However, they weren't perfectly square, so this brought on tantrum #5. You think I'm kidding, but alas. I had to tear off the uneven edges of each piece before he would eat it. Eventually, the lunch met his standards and he ate his fill.
Because I was sticking to my guns on this one, I finished my show and announced that we would be heading to town to go to the store. My son loves the store, so he ran to his room to help me pick out some clothes. We got dressed and headed in. We hadn't been anywhere in a couple of days, so I drove around a little bit, letting him tell me where to go. He recently learned left and right, and he had a good time putting his new knowledge to use. We eventually got to the store, and went inside. I got a cart and went to pick him up to put him in the seat. He took off like a shot to the watermelon display they had just a few feet from the door. "Melon!" he yelled. "Honey, there is no way that you can eat all that melon by yourself," I said. (Goodness knows I don't eat fruit! Gross!) The look on his face meant surely tantrum #6 was on the way. I scooped him up and tried to set him in the basket. I had him under the arms, and as soon as he realized what was going on, he drew his legs straight up in front of him. He looked like the male gymnasts when they are doing the rings or the parallel bars, where they look like they are sitting in the air. We struggled for a minute, but he eventually got in, and we completed our short shopping trip without any further issues.
When we got home, I turned on the movie I'd promised him (Pumpkin move, again. Do you see a theme here?) and went to make dinner. I found these chicken nuggets earlier in the day and thought they would be hit. As I began to get out the necessary items, I hear a distinct voice saying "climb, there, carry" which of course means he wants to sit on the counter and watch. "No problem, little man, I'd love to let you watch." I set him on the counter top, while I went about my business on the island. I heard him chattering away in mostly nonsense words, but I wasn't really paying that much attention. Until I realized it was silent. Then I was paying a lot of attention. I looked over, and he had taken the lid of the sugar container. He was just sitting there smiling at me. I couldn't resist his super cute smile, so I smiled back. "Down?" he said, ever so sweetly. "Sure thing, sweet potato." I straight arm picked him up without using my hands (I was breading chicken, give me a break) and that's when I noticed the HUGE pile of sugar on the counter top. I turned to get onto him, but he was already in the other room. He knows when to hit the floor running, I see. Seeing as my hands were covered in chicken, butter, and breading, I decided the sugar wasn't hurting anyone and that I'd clean it up when I was done with the chicken. In the meantime, my cute as a button son came back in and took the measuring cup I'd been using. No problem, I was finished with it. Until I realized that he was over at the huge pile of sugar on the cabinet scooping it up into the cup. Momentarily dazzled by the fact that he is tall enough to reach the sugar pile on top of the counter, I told him to go dump it in the trash can. He loves to put things in the trash can, so I really wasn't worried about this direction. I continued with my chicken until I heard an ominous sound. Just so you know, when a child giggles, it probably isn't good. This is when I learned that instead of dumping the cup of sugar into the trashcan, he has dumped it into the open washing machine. Fortunately, the machine was empty at the time, and it was just sugar, so it should dissolve in the next load. Only time will tell.
By this point, I'm finished with the chicken and have put it in the oven. It was beginning to smell downright delicious, and I was chomping at the bit to get it out of the oven and try it. That is when the smoke detector went off. I know they have to be loud enough to wake up a sleeping person, but dang, I was right there. I figured out that by waving the oven mitts in front of the device, it would stop going off. (There was no smoke, by the way, it just goes off sometimes when the oven is at 400. I have no idea why. It just does. A mystery of life, I suppose.) They continued to bake and look heavenly, and then the stupid smoke detector went off again. I reached for the mitts to do my fan and wave technique, but they weren't there anymore. That's when my son walked in, wearing them on his arms and yelling "Mittens!" Fabulous.
I reclaimed the "mittens" for myself, took care of the shrill noise, and took out the chicken nuggets. I tasted one just to make sure it was done, and then tasted 5 more to make sure they really were ok. (These were the best homemade chicken nuggets I've ever had.) I was just setting down a plate of nuggets and a bowl of corn for my little baby when the phone rang. I went back to the kitchen to answer it, and when I walked back into the living room after saying hello, there was a small pile of corn on the couch. I began talking to my co-worker while I picked up the pile of corn. I walked to the trashcan (where a cup of sugar had NOT been previously dumped), threw the corn away, and just as I was wiping my hands, I heard another ominous sound. "OOOOOOPS!
Once supper was over, and everything was cleaned up, I announced that it was time for a shower. My son loves showers, or baths, or pretty much anything involving water. So you can imagine my surprise when he screamed "No!!!" and ran away. My child has said no about a lot of things, but taking a shower is not one of them. I had to physically place him in the shower. Of course, after business was taken care of, he refused to get out. Go figure. After I finally extracted him from the shower, got him into pajamas, tried to get him to say goodnight to his dad on the phone, and then wrestled him into bed, I think it's needless to say I'm exhausted. I will indeed sleep well tonight. At least, I hope I do. Because come dawn's early light, I'm pretty sure I have to do it all over again. But you know what? I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. It must not have been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)