What is it about boys and puddles???

He's got the whole danged culdesac, but Eddie naturally gravitates toward the puddle. Meanwhile, Chas tries his hand at extreme sports...



Then, of course, Chas tries for some frisbee tossing, which he seems to mistake for the discus throw. And Eddie, naturally, shoots some hoops. With a football shirt on. Whoops.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

OK, I'm not usually so scatalogically inclined, but I need to vent. Let me explain. It's another day with big boy undies. Or it was. First, Chas peed all over a book, soaking it with urine and rendering it unfit for continued reading. OK, I can deal.

Then, Eddie comes in and announces that he has pee down his legs. I clean up the puddle in the playroom, then turn to Eddie. I spy a tiny poop ball rolling out of his soaked underpants. Cool. He's just starting to poop. Seizing the opporunity, I whisk him to the potty chair to finish up his poop. He sits there happily for a minute, then asks to watch some TV while he works on his project. Fine. We both sit there. Chas joins us. I finally decide he's happy so I go start mopping the kitchen floor, checking on him every few minutes. On my third check in, both boys have moved to my bed. The result is skid marks aplenty all over my sheets. I wouldn't have minded this the other day -- honestly. But we just changed the sheets night before last. Of course, there's also poop on the comforter, which is in the washing machine now.

So I take him in to wipe the remaining crap off his cute little ass and that's when I see it. The giant turd that had rolled out of his undies and under the corner of the changing table pad. So all of this was for nothing -- he had already finished his pooping when I put him on the potty chair and initiated this unfortunate chain of events.

But the worst part is that unless I want to inflict untold amounts of psychological damage and slow his potty training to something less than the crawl its at now, I can't complain much. I can't express anything remotely resembling disgust despite the fact that someone has shat himself, then rubbed his shitty ass all over my bed. Of course, in 20 years, the world will be full of young adults who unashamedly soil themselves and freely rub their feces all over other people's beds, floors and furniture. Then the experts will be telling parents that they must express disgust so their children will learn to be ashamed of such unpleasant and anti-social behavior. Until then, I will save my venting for this. Presumably when they are able to read it, the knowledge that their mother was disgusted, nay, horrified to have their excrement spread all over her bed will not be too surprising to them.

Meanwhile, I am reminded that I was in fact potty trained at six months of age. (More accurately, my mother was potty trained.) But back then all involved had more incentive to accomplish this: cloth diapers fastened by pins. My brother actually pinned a diaper to my tender little flesh, which explains perhaps why I was so keen on learning to use the pot. But I'm not ready to try that on Eddie and Chas. Yet.

I could have written ...

this ... if I were a whole lot smarter and a much better writer, that is. Oh, and I haven't heard the actual Laurie Berkner mentioned here. But, like Eddie, I have found myself wandering around singing, "I won-dah! Who put the alphabet in alphabetical order."

There's only one parent with any authority in this house...

and it's Eddie.

Today my sister Cathy and I have the fellas at the play train outside of Target. Now in most circumstances, this is a recipe for tears and argument when it's time to leave. But this time, Eddie came up and announced that he was ready to go home. Heh heh, I think as I tell him to go tell his brother that. Just then Chas walks up to see what's going on and to engage Eddie in more play.

"It's time to go, Chas," Eddie says.
"Oh. Thanks, Eddie," Chas replies. Then he climbs up to get his shoes on to leave. What?!?!? I took an illicit picture with my cell phone (no unauthorized photos allowed in the mall. I suspect its where the real WMDs are hidden and they've got to keep a lid on it.) But I can't post it because I don't know how to get it from my email to the blog. I'm sure Spouse will know. But until then you will just have to take my word for it that they are as cute as ever.

Anyway, they were thrilled because I let them get a couple of toys -- $3 in all -- and the cashier put each in its own bag. Sorry, environment, but the fellas are sure happy with the arrangement!

I take it all back

So tonight, I'm feeling more like I would enjoy having a job outside the house. I'll change my mind, I'm sure, tomorrow. But tonight I'm irritated by life.

I love my boys. I wouldn't trade them for the world. But sometimes I feel like I've traded in my old life for one in the remedial lane. I mean, if you like being a Mom, the world sort of looks at you like you're stupid. And I include myself in "the world" at least sometimes. Especially now. Who in the hell could love this?!?!?!

Ahh. I shouldn't blog when I'm pissy like this. I should engage in my other passtime, posting snarky comments on The News Tribune's website using ridiculous pseudonyms.


And, to top it off, I have to go in Thursday for a CT scan of this bump on my skull. (Had an x-ray of it Monday.) It's been there for years, but I got it in my fool head that it's getting bigger. Sad, but true, I'm kind of excited about it -- another afternoon doing something other than arguing with almost-three-year-olds. My bump is itching now. Must know I'm talking about it.

As lame as it gets

OK, here's the picture of the day, taken by Steph. It's me helping rebuild train tracks. I would have posted one that Chas took, but my big fat belly is hanging out and it's about as gross as the poop picture that I didn't post so at least I'm being consistent.


Anyway, more ruminations on Felicity Huffman simply because I think that somehow my last weird post on the subject didn't properly convey that I both understood and liked what she said. Rather, I think I almost felt bad because she said it and it made so much sense etc. that I almost felt like a bad mother for thinking that my kids are the greatest thing I've ever done. And that's the real rub with motherhood, isn't it? No matter what you do or say or feel or think, there's some part of you that worries that it's wrong. Do I love my kids enough? Do I love them too much? Am I subverting myself and giving them a bad model of what a woman is? Am I being too selfish and not giving enough of myself to them? Why can't I be like an Emperor Penguin and suffer ridiculous physical pain without complaint for them?

Do men even think like this? I mean, I believe -- or at least I hope -- that many men worry about being good fathers etc. But do they worry about it to this extent? Do they feel this weight of having to represent for their entire gender?

I think this is why the stay at homes and the stay at work moms can all be so annoying about their choices. I think everyone is so worried/afraid that they aren't doing the best thing that they have to justify it to themselves and anyone in earshot at every opportunity. Or maybe I'm overthinking it.

Honestly, I've known some great people -- fantastic people -- with lousy moms and vice versa. So we should probably just relax about it.

Just know that my choices are right.

Sickly Eddie

So though Chas is our asthma/allergy boy, it seems Eddie is the one who tends to get hardest by bugs. Maybe because Chas gets support via inhaled steroids and albuterol. Dunno. Anyway, Eddie was really sick last night and this morning. Temp of 101, which isn't record-setting but also isn't fun. Here he is feeling poorly and getting a get-well kiss from Chas. He's doing much better now, thankfully.

A bad, bad feminist or just a lousy multitasker?

So, whilst recovering from a mild but persistent migraine, I've been ruminating on an interview Felicity Huffman gave to 60 minutes. She said being a mother wasn't the best thing she's ever done and she resented the question because it implied that if she said "no" shewas a bad mother. I have to say, I don't understand her answer, but I do respect it.

In some ways, I think it might make her a better mother. After all, isn't our job to help our children grow to be independent adults? If they are the center of our lives, how do we make that happen? But, like I said, I don't understand. Because being a mother is, by about a million miles, the best thing I've ever done. (Maybe if I'd played a pre-op transgendered man, I'd feel differently.)

I am a stay at home mom. And if I'm honest, it's not because I think it's what's best for the boys. It's because I'm selfish. I WANT to spend this time with them. Now, that doesn't mean that I love them any more than working moms love their kids -- the one thing I HATE is when stay at home moms talk about how superior they are or when working moms talk about how superior they are. Both choices have pros and cons for the moms and the kids. I mean, you can be a great mom who loves your kids (or dad) and work a full-time job. (Maybe it's just because my mom chose to continue working full-time after I was born that I want to believe this, but I don't think so.) Now, if you're working so much that you aren't home enough to adequately take care of a dog, I'm going to go out on a limb and say you shouldn't have small children. (And I can't for the life of me figure out why you'd want to.) But, unless you use a known registered sex offender or Michael Jackson for your childcare, you are probably doing just fine by your kids even if you work outside the house full time.

And, as a stay at home mom, unless you are in your kids' faces constantly and have no outside interests at all, you are probably doing just fine.

So, what's my point? Hell if I know, but let me keep typing and maybe I'll find one.

When I was younger, I couldn't have imagined being happy staying home with young children. Now I can't imagine going to work and leaving them all day. They are waay too much fun to let someone else have the joy of hanging out with them all day. It seems like each segment of my life has been pretty neatly defined. This is the mommy segment. Honestly, I can't imagine working all day then coming home and having the energy to deal with the guys. (Heck, before I was even pregnant, I used to come home and take a nap until Steph was on her way home almost every night.) But back to my segments. At the end of each, I've found myself getting bored and restless. Maybe that will happen again and I'll want to return to work. That would be handy.

So, am I smothering my children? I hope not. I try not to. Am I being a bad feminist by derailing my career to stay at home? Probably. But the truth is, I was bored stiff by my "career" and ready for something new.

But back to Felicity Huffman. I still don't get it. I love my spouse, my family and I loved many, many aspects of my career. But being a mom fulfills me in a way that nothing else really has. (And it's scarier than hell to realize how much my happiness is tied to the health and happiness of these little guys who don't know things like water and electricity don't mix. Of course, Spouse doesn't seem to know that cutting a live power cord ain't so smart, either, so I've got plenty to worry about.) It makes me feel closer to my spouse and I think, eventually, it will make me better at whatever work I return to. It's just the coolest thing I've ever done. Maybe if I'd won a Pulitzer I'd feel differently. But I doubt it.

Anyway, Eddie has been quite sick but seems to be feeling better after many, many hours of fevered sleep. Thank God. Maybe I can get back to thinking about whether Thomas or Jay Jay will win the battle for the hearts and minds of this house.

The Mother of All Train Tunnels

So, the boys have been sick all day. Which means they are clingy and want me to play with them constantly. They wanted a Megabloks tunnel for their Duplo train set. So, since I was not allowed to do anything else, I built them this, using almost all of their Megabloks. I had forgotten about it until Mama Steph glanced into the playroom this evening and was stunned by it. It is quite the feat of patience and engineering. Wonder if we could build our new church building this way??? Anyway, Steph took this pictures, so thanks and credit to her.

Meanwhile, Chas is yelling at the laptop, which Steph is on, "Turn off, 'Puter!" He wants more attention. Now, I realize I'm kind of complaining about all of this, but let's face it. There are far worse ways to spend a day than cuddling, snuggling, reading to and building giant train tunnels (then tearing them down and rebuilding them) with the world's most wonderful boys.

Crappy Day -- Hurray!!!

Now, normally I wouldn't blog about my boys' bowel movements. But today was genuinely a RED LETTER DAY in our household as Chas pooped in the potty chair for the first time.

I didn't know he was going to -- thought he would just pee. But he kept going back in and sittin there. I came to talk to him and saw him turning red and straining like he was giving birth to something, and indeed he was. Monster-sized. Not pleasant to deal with, but a milestone nonetheless. As I was talking to him, I said he must be constipated (He didn't go at all yesterday.) and Eddie immediately began telling him, "Chas, you constipated." He did not appreciate this coming from his brother.

OK, just now Eddie says, quite loudly, "Oh, crap!" Apparently he's being literal as he's added that he now has poop in his diaper. "I've got some poop in my diaper! Can you help me?! I want a prize too. Can you help me go poo po in the potty chair!!!???"

Since Chas got a prize for his first potty poop, this is bad news indeed for Mr. Ed. Anyway, this is Chas posing in his Nemo underpants which he gets to wear for a while at least today. What a big boy! (I took a picture of the turd to email to Steph, but it's too gross to post.)

There's more than one way to eat an apple...

Quiet day today. Story time at the library has been the highlight. Much playing with/fighting over Duplo trains. But at least they discovered this new, fun way of sharing apple slices.

If this is Me Time, I suck.

OK, here's the scenario. Steph worked a night shift tonight. Which left me alone with the monkeys after 3 or so in the afternoon. Hmm. I began to have fantasies. Wonderful fantasies. Fantasies Steph aptly described as "Me Time." I thought we'd wear the boys out with a swim at the Y, they'd go to be early and I'd go nuts. Watch something Steph couldn't stand on TV. Oooh. Maybe some of my Mad About You DVDs. Or I could work on some captions for my scrapbook. Or watch some of the Golden Globes. The possiblities were endless. Well, I'll cut to the chase. This photo was taken just moments ago. At 11:15 p.m. Here's how we got to this point:

We began the day at a Toys R Us liquidation sale were we found the Toby Duplo of Chas' dreams. Sadly, the Percy of Eddie's dreams was already sold. So we decided to get him one elsewhere. (We were giving them things because we woke them from a dead sleep last night to go into the Toys R Us sale only to discover the store was closed. This caused, let us say, great consternation in the boys and we resolved to make it up to them.) No luck at the Target in Federal Way. But we would press on. Lunch, then a swim at the Y and bye bye Mama. The boys and I drove to pick up Auntie Cathy, then to Tukwila. The boys fell asleep. So much for my no -nap plan. But I got the Percy and they awoke when we got home, so I still had some hope.

It was raining, so when we got in the house, Eddie ran and grabbed a tissue and lovingly wiped his Percy Duplo box dry. Then, for the next 15 1/2 hours, I was held captive in the playroom and forced to "play" with the new toys. That may be a slight exaggeration, but only slight.

I convinced them to break for mac and cheese. While I was getting it ready, Chas pulled down a box of corn flakes and poured them all over the floor. Are you getting the picture of my evening?

As I cleaned this up, they ate some mac and cheese, grapes and pushed around some green beans. Then I was forced back to the playroom. Soon, Eddie jumps up and runs out claiming to need a napkin. Having lost my will to live about 15 minutes earlier, I'm not thinking about why. Then I hear a horrible thud followed by a blood-curdling scream. I force my way past Chas, who thinks I should still be in the playroom, and find Eddie with very tiny bits of blood coming out of both nostrils. He has fallen face first on the floor. He cries, I soothe and kiss various injured body parts better. He tells me he's going to throw up. As he gets better, he tells me he needs to get a napkin for the chocolate milk. Oh yeah, the napkin. So I ask him where the spill is. Yup, it's in the playroom, right near the edge of the playmat. It's a whole cup. It's disgusting under the playmat. Must get at that this weekend.

OK, the evening progresses and soon I convince them to take their meds, brush their teeth, etc. We read some stories and... Chas demands chocolate milk. I tell him no, he cries, eventually settles down. This will be a piece of cake I think. Ha. They both insist on clutching their new Duplo trains, which keep them just amused enough to avoid sleep. Eventually, I take them away, which is OK with Eddie, but upsets Chas to no end. I rock them. I sit with them at their bedside. I hold their hands. I think I'll break away for a few seconds by telling them I need to use the bathroom. Chas wants to watch. When I say I don't need to go after all, he begins to cry that he wants to see Mommy pee. After 2 hours of this, I give up and come in here to send a photo request that I should have sent Friday. And to eat dinner: Diet Coke and potato chips.

The boys, of course, followed me in about 20 seconds later. And Chas demanded chocolate milk. I am so over Me Time. It's really not that much fun.

I stay with you...

During this evening's snuggles, Chas pulled my head down so our faces were about an inch apart. "You stay with me," he implored. I agreed. A minute later, he did the same thing, this time saying, "I stay with you." Again, I agreed. Then just as I'm thinking how wildly important I am to this drowsy little boy, he starts mumbling something else.
"I need to get more Duplo Thomas. I need to keep Duplo Toby. And Duplo Percy. In a box."
These are the two Duplo sets that go with the Thomas and James kits they got for Christmas from their Uncle Matt. Apparently, obtaining them is quite important.

Good Day, Sunshine

So after 27 straight days of measurable rain, the sun came out today. I had been bitching and moaning about the rain, but I find myself oddly disturbed by this sudden change. For one thing, we were only 6 days away from tying an all-time record for consecutive days with measurable rain. For another, well, the forecasters say after this it's at least another two weeks solid of rain. Which means Mother Nature is just being a tease.

This picture is the boys with their beloved train table. It's one of the few lately in which Eddie is not saying "cheeeeese" and showing off a somewhat deranged, open-mouthed grin. This morning Chas did not want to get up to go to church. He clung onto his pajamas and cried when we left them home. Smart kid.

The Tyranny of The Blog

OK, I took this picture just before I put their shoes on them to go to a wedding at our church. They are playing with their play food -- filling little cups with water from the refrigerator dispenser and calling it coffee, etc.

I was just going to go to bed a few minutes ago when I remembered my stupid picture a day nonsense. It's really too soon to give up, so here I sit, typing whilst the more intelligent members of my family sleep.

Anyway, a few cute moments today. First, Chas hurt his foot and Eddie scoots over immediately. "I kiss it better for you." And he does. It seems to do the trick. Just one more way Eddie thinks he's one of the grown-ups in this family.

At the wedding, Eddie was talking (not excessively, but come on, it was a wedding!) and I shushed him. The lip came out. He started to cry but I calmed him quickly. He looked at me and said, "You're making me mad!" Then, after dinner at Outback Steakhouse, he cried because he wanted to take the little bead runner toy they have there for kids. On the tearful ride home he warned, "You're making me mad again!" (Earlier in the day he had told me I was a good mommie because I don't hurt his feelings. I think he's ready to recind that statement.)

Chas, meanwhile, was adamant about not wanting or needing to go to bed tonight. We skipped their bath, which didn't help, but it was late and we're planning on taking them swimming at the Y tomorrow. His latest thing when you are trying to get him to do something he doesn't like is to announce, "I run away." Then he attempts to make good on his threat. Of course, at this age, he runs away to the other room, but it's still a pain in the neck. When I was a kid, I used to run away all the time -- but I was older and actually left the house, albeit not the block as I was not allowed to cross the street. Hey, I was a runaway, but I still followed the rules.

The other exciting news is that my brother-in-law's truck was stolen from the Park and Ride today. It was a piece of crap, so it' s actually kind of stunning. The cop even laughed. I'll be honest, though: I really believed he just forgot where he parked until Steph took him on another drive through the lot after dinner.

Ring Around the Rosie is a Contact Sport

First, about this picture. The boys got these new Thomas shirts in the mail yesterday so there was no question what they'd wear today -- even though they're too big (the shirts, not the boys). Today at the mall, Eddie kept coming up to me at the play structure (fittingly, a train) to complain that someone had touched his shirt or was trying to take his shirt. But that's not the worst of it...

I decide I want to run into Target to see if they have rain boots for the boys. The entire trip should take 2, 3 minutes tops. So I take a chance and leave the boys in the supervision of my 81-year-old mother. (If you thought I was going to say I left them alone, you're nuts.) Anyway, I fast-walk in and out of Target -- what could happen, right? Only when I get back, my mother is standing, talking to someone. Eddie is using a baby wipe to dry his red, tear-streaked face. My elderly mother looks up and says, "Chas was beating the crap out of him." Wha!?!?! Turns out, they were on the other side of the train where my mom couldn't see them well. OK, or at all. A woman approached my mom and asked if she was with those boys just on the other side of the train. Proud grandma puffed up and said yes -- fully expecting, I'm sure, to hear how cute, sweet and/or well-behaved they were. But the woman just informed her that one was beating the crap (her actual words, I'm assured) out of the other one. My mom ran (or her nearest approximation -- did I mention she's 81?) to the other side of the train and discovered Chas atop a wailing Eddie, apparently attempting to remove crap from his brother via the time-honored beating method.

So I asked Chas why he was hurting his brother. "I want to play ring around rosies!" But Eddie didn't want to. So Chas took him down. I make Chas apologize, then agree to play ring around the rosies with him. This attracts a little girl. Before long, both boys are playing with a couple of little girls and I'm allowed to sit it out. The funny thing is, though my guys are the ones with colds, I made sure to anti-bacterial wipe their hands afterward, since they were, ick, holding hands with other children.

And wait, there's more from this little trip. Before all of this happened an elderly woman (not my mother) looked at me and said, "A little one just went in there," pointing to a video arcade next to the play area. Once she'd told me, I guess she figured her work was done because she went back to watching her own grandchild. I wandered over and found a tyke, probably pushing 2, seated at a car game. "Where's your mommy?" The question prompted him to get down and run further into the arcade. Seeing no one inside who could pretend to be responsible for a child of this age, I picked him up and took him back to the play structure. By this time, his frantic mother, clutching a newborn, was looking all over for him. She was standing right next to the elderly woman who sent me after the lad, but this woman either had forgotten or figured it served her right for losing track of her child and didn't bother telling her anything. All was well, in the end. But it got me thinking. When we were at Zoo Lights, I jumped in front of a runaway stroller just before it and its infant passenger careened down an embankment. Mom and Dad were talking with some other people and hadn't noticed it zooming away. Now, in neither this instance nor the mall drama did I have to really go out of my way to save these children. Still. I feel I'm owed some good Karma. And so I just remind the universe of this. So if (who are we kidding, when) I take my eyes off my own little guys for the wrong fraction of a second, I think I deserve to have a kindly person step in and save them from danger and me from crushing guilt/grief/anxiety. That's all I ask.

OK, Wacky New Goal!

OK, so my new goal is to post at least one picture a day with my blog entry. Crazy you say? Well, duh. And I doubt I'll keep up with it past, oh, today. But at any rate, here's the boy story to go along with the photos.

They wanted to paint, having just awakened from naps to check in with Blue's Clues, something they've just started to dig. (They walk around saying, "A clue! A clue!" and "My handy dandy -- NOTEbook.) Anyway there was painting in this episode, so there you are. Eddie proceeded to paint "our house." But I have to quibble here with the artist. Our house is a pale yellow. He was using red. Now, I'm all for abstraction etc. but come on! Then again, in rejecting the artist smock that I managed to get Chas to wear, he announced that he didn't want to be an artist. Sigh. Tortured already, paintbrush in hand but he doesn't want to be an artist. Oh well, within seconds of their joint project, I hear Eddie say, "You're doin' good, Chas." And Chas responds, "Thank you, Eddie." I swear, they can be such little gents.

Then, I get the camera out, hoping for some real candid shots, but Eddie immediately starts mugging it up, looking at me and saying, "CHEESE!"

SO, now an unrelated entry. Tonight, after their bath, they started singing -- wait for it -- "She's a lady. Whoa whoa whoa, she's a lady!" Steph asked me if I've been secretly listening to Tom Jones during the day. I swear I have not. They pick up on the weirdest stuff.

40 called. They said you're 37 years early.

OK, so my poor little Eddie is, I fear, a bit of a perfectionist. He enunciates with such precision sometimes it's scary. And tonight during their bath, I actually heard him say to Chas, "I'm sorry. I 'pologize to you." What's up with that? He's not even three yet!?!? Then, the little busy body gets on my case immediately after the bath. "I need my fluoride and Chas needs his Singulair!" He follows me, stark naked, by the way, to the pantry where I get out two fluoride pills. He pops his in his mouth and runs the other one into his brother in the bedroom. Then he's back for the Singulair, which he dutifully runs back to Chas. It occurs to me that I probably shouldn't trust someone on this side of 3 with medicines. But the boy is just so darned precise and careful about things.

On a completely unrelated note, it would appear that Jay Jay the Jet Plane is a wonderul salve for those times when Thomas and Friends gets a little scary. Chas has been frightened by some Thomas shows for a while now and his fears coincided with a renewed interest in Jay Jay on his part. Well, this evening, Eddie wanted to watch the read-along story on his new Percy Saves the Day DVD, so I popped it in so I could make dinner. Sadly, the story is Thomas and Percy and the Dragon. It is clearly a bit edgy for my guys -- even Eddie. Eddie starts telling me to turn it off because Chas is scared. Then he admits that perhaps he might be the teeniest bit frightened by it himself. "Let's watch a little Jay Jay," he says. I convince him to wait until after dinner, fortunately. That little airplane has a wonderful way of soothing frayed nerves, apparently. At any rate, he chattered about both the Thomas and the Dragon thing and Jay Jay all evening, so I fully expect to have nightmares visited upon us tonight. At any rate, here's a shot of Eddie sleeping peacefully a couple days ago. I had to take it because it was so reminiscent of the shot on the left, taken when he was just minutes old...

I not feelin' so well...

Eddie's told me that twice so far today. He has a cold, but he tells me it's his tummy that's not well. But it didn't stop him from eating all the "yellow" (corn mush from Chevy's) that we had available in leftovers. I'm hoping I dont' see yellow again soon...

Chas, you charmer....

You know those moments you visualize in your head before you have kids? The ones where a sleepy little boy is cuddled in your arms as you sing him a lullaby? Yeah, that's not gonna happen. At least not with Chas. I start singing along with the lullaby CD tonight and he quickly puts his hand over my mouth. "Top singing," he commands. Not sure if this is better or worse than his previous critique which simply involved him putting his hands over his ears.

And yes, we put them to bed with lullaby music. Don't tell the Super Nanny. Yes, we're abusive and play music or ocean sounds to lull them to sleep, thereby not allowing them to learn crucial self-soothing techniques. Either this will persist and they will spend sleepless nights trolling late night TV, waiting for a mom to come pat their backs or snuggle them or - and I'm thinking this is probably more likely -- like every other boy past puberty, they will discover their special purpose and just wank off whenever they can't get to sleep. Either way, frankly, I don't wanna know.

Hey, Honey, Baby!!!

So yesterday, after a grueling church meeting and lunch at Chevy's, Eddie points to me and calls me "Baby, "then points to Steph and tells her she's "Honey." Which is pretty danged observant because, though I hadn't really noticed it before, she calls me "Baby" and I call her "Honey." But I'm not sure our son should be calling either one of us that. Hmmm.

Meanwhile, they both have colds, Chas a little worse off than his brother. I HATE it when they're sick. Arrgh!!! Sudden wave of tired just washed over me. Don't want to be witty or even lamely amusing (or amusingly lame). Must stop now. Would give $50 for a good, solid nap right now, which, if you know how cheap I am, is pretty amazing.

I'm so excited! It's my favorite!

These are some of Eddie's new favorite words, but he tosses around the word favorite a bit indiscriminately. So far his favorite color has gone from red to green to orange. And he's excited by just about everything. At least he's happy.

Chas, meantime, has learned the power of "Please, oh, please!" It's usually part of a request for chocolate milk. Man, this kid is good. Gotta watch him.

Oh, and another thing. We got them pull-ups. They don't want to wear them. In fact, today, Eddie insisted on running around "snakkid" and then took a dump. In the kitchen. On the floor. Then he went about his playing, completely oblivious to the party foul. One more reason to keep their pants on them. Sigh. I don't think I'm disciplined enough for this whole potty training drama. I mean, if I wait long enough, won't they just start doing it themselves? At least by high school??

I'm never far, Chas

Or, why toddlers are a lot like dogs.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I didn't feel like dealing with dinner tonight -- sore throat and bad attitude. Anyway, took the boys to McDonalds to meet Mama and play in the play place. En route, they argued about whether it was, in fact, a big toy or a small toy they would be playing on. (This was a theme today -- arguing. At one point while I was in the kitchen listening to them argue in the playroom I yelled "Stop arguing!" They quit and came running in. "You OK, Mommy?" Eddie inquired. Sigh.

But I digress. Of course, this is my blog so I can bloody well digress if I want to, so stop complaining. While playing there, they decided the play structure was, in Eddie's words, "spooky." Fine, whatever. Then I hear words to melt my heart. Eddie says to his brother, "I never far, Chas. I never far." At once I imagined my boy was both comforting his brother, assuaging his fears (unexpressed to me, of course) and making a statement of profound love and loyalty.

Then I started thinking about it. Let's face it, the boys are pretty good little talkers, but quite a bit of the time I don't know what the hell they're saying. I pondered. What else could he have been saying? Perhaps he was bragging about his sure-footedness. "I never fall, Chas." Hmm. So I asked him to say both of those phrases, "I never far" and "I never fall." The latter came out more like "falled" but in truth, they were close enough that he could have been saying either one. Or something entirely different.

Which is what brings me to why toddlers are like dogs. (Remember that?) With toddlers, as with dogs, we just want so badly to believe that they have and are expressing real and very complex emotions. So much so that we can even imagine having seen evidence. So I "heard" him say he was never far because I want to believe he's capable of such a strong attachment and feeling of protection. Just like I wanted to believe my dogs were looking at me lovingly/excitedly/quizzically. Of course, now the scientists are saying dogs smile, so perhaps I'm full of it and Eddie is capable of such a statement of love an support. But there are other ways toddlers are like dogs. Unless you trai them well, you'll be cleaning up their feces fairly regularly. They can roam the house freely for the most part, but will make a ridiculous mess if left unsupervised too long. As Eddie just now demonstrated in the tub, they will bite. Despite being offered nutritionally sound and adequate food, they both still prefer scraps off of your plate. They'll both follow you around and look at you with love and adoration. If only I could get the boys to play fetch.

And another thing

I just accidentally skimmed by Steph's email inbox and noted that she has an email from someone called "Naughty Mandy," as well as one encouraging her to join some group to find LDS singles. What the hell has she been doing online to attract these seemingly, but perhaps not, disparate spammings?

Steph has a blog!

Her blog is at www.betterlater.blogspot.com . (I think.)

Anyway, I encourage everyone who reads this to visit her blog so that you can see the kind of crap I have to put up with. I mean, besides the boys.

Of punk rock hair and toddlers

Got the boys' hair cut yesterday. Took the stylist's advice and tried something different. Eddie ended up with a Caesar cut -- and a green spike up front. Chas got a blue Fauxhawk. It's cute now. But when they're teenagers and they want to do this crap to their hair I'll have heart failure.

Quiet New Year's Eve. Went to Delsa and Neil's gym. Boys ran around, threatening to fall into the 6-foot deep pit that was under construction. Jumped on the trampolines, (And again, when they are older and I find they spend their New Year's Eve jumping on tramps, it'll be heart failure time again.) pretended to be Percy and Thomas and just generally had a good time. Until it was time to leave. (11 p.m.) Then we screamed and cried for much of the way home. Happy New Year everyone!