That's Impossible!

I like keeping the kids' smaller toys in baskets on their bookshelves.  I think it looks cute, and it's easier for WeeBee to put his toys away when he knows all dinosaurs go in one basket, and all cars in another.

Unfortunately, it's also easier for them to dump everything out.

Like the contents of 5+ baskets down the stairs.

And while Mommy chases one little hoodlum, the other can dump another basket down the stairs, and run off giggling.  Then when Mommy chases hoodlum #2, the first one can go right back to causing mayhem.

Somewhere between threatening to throw all the toys in a garbage bag and never letting them see the light of day again, and having hysterics over the mess, I told WeeBee he was being naughty.

WeeBee:  (truly, deeply shocked)  I not naughty, Mommy!  That's impossible!

I see.  Clearly, I should not have read "Click, Clack, Moo - Cow's That Type" to this child, because now everything is "impossible."

It's not that they have an obscene amount of toys.  But when you're standing at the top of the stairs looking down at 50 alphabet blocks, half a dozen toy cars, 6 duplo blocks, and 2 dozen crayons that you swear are multiplying underneath the front doormat, what will take 15 minutes to clean up looks like it will take 2 hours.

And sometimes you just have to go have a cup of tea, write the day off as a disaster, and try to face the world again tomorrow.

That Is the Answer

Around 6:30 Sunday morning, WeeBee weaseled his way into my bed.  Well, a more accurate description would be that he scrambled up, climbed on my back, and then hung his head upside-down over my shoulder, so that when I opened my eyes, he was three inches away, grinning maniacally, upside-down.

WeeBee:  Look, Mommy!  It's a beautiful day!
Mommy:  Uh huh.
WeeBee:  Mommy, 1 + 1 is 2.
Mommy:  Uh huh.  Wait, what?

Every once in awhile, WeeBee comes out with something and I have absolutely no idea where it came from.  Besides questioning what sort of child does math problems at 6:30 on a Sunday morning, he didn't learn this from me.  I thought maybe he saw a math show on Nick Jr. at Paka's house, but my husband is convinced the only thing he watched was Blue's Clues and Pound Puppies (whatever that is.)  I questioned WeeBee on it again later, and he was even more insistent.

Mommy:  So, this morning, you told me 1 + 1 is 2.
WeeBee:  Yes!  1 + 1 is 2.  That is the answer.

Right.

Sadly, I must go, because my little tyrant has just questioned why the laundry hasn't been put away.  I believe his exact words were, "Mommy, why is the basket on Daddy's chair?  It's impossible!"  (With the implication clearly being that I'm the impossible one, because the laundry basket is preventing him from bouncing on the chair and throwing mini beach balls behind it.)

Puppies, Kittens, and Vladimir the Hedgehog

Or how to keep Lowly entertained when you are too tired to think...

Lowly has an ambivalent relationship with TV, with the exception of watching Gumby.  (She can hear that theme song from across the house, will drop everything, and run into the living room to dance.  It's awesome.)  The rest of the time, she doesn't really acknowledge its existence.

Apparently, videos of baby animals on Youtube are more her speed.

Yesterday afternoon I took a nap to escape from the teething baby of doom who is getting 4 vampire teeth at once.  (Incisors?  The pointy ones in the front?  I should just google this, right?)  Anyway, my husband had the brilliant idea that Lowly might like to watch a video of baby puppies on Youtube.  She went nuts.  She would have spent the entire afternoon squealing at the computer screen if we had let her.  Sadly, Daddy had to run errands eventually, so I found my delirious self camped out on the bed watching videos on my phone, and getting attacked by a drooling toddler who was hell-bent on kissing every adorable furry kitten that couldn't figure out how to climb out of a basket.

I think my husband might have regretted the whole thing when he heard me announce that I wanted a baby hedgehog, though.

Stinky, Smelly, Mushy Bananas

WeeBee takes a long time to unwind at the end of the day.  There are days I wish I could put a trampoline in his bedroom and just let him go at it until he fell asleep.  One of his favorite routines, aside from using his bed as a diving board, is telling me about his day.  Then I have to tell him about his day.  Then he tells me about his day, again.

Last night he started in on this while I was downstairs loading up the dishwasher.  I admit I wasn't quite giving him my full attention until I heard this...

WeeBee:  And I took the stinky, smelly...
Mommy:  (thinking he's referring to the lentil soup I made for dinner that he refused to touch, that I'm still rather ticked off about) WeeBee, we don't speak about our food that way!
WeeBee:  And I took the stinky, smelly banana, and I gave it to Lowly.
Mommy:  What?
WeeBee:  (pleased with self) I took the stinky, smelly, mushy banana, and I gave it to Lowly.  Then I only had two slices of banana.
Mommy:  (trying to figure out how grounded in reality this conversation is)  You gave mushy bananas to Lowly?
WeeBee:  Yes!  And then I had two!
Mommy:  You mean you took apart your sandwich?
WeeBee:  Yes!  And gave the stinky, smelly, mushy banana to Lowly!  And she ate it!

So, as far as I can uncover, WeeBee did not approve of the quality of all of the banana slices on his peanut butter and jelly and banana sandwich at lunchtime.  He then took the offending pieces of banana, and gave them to his sister, who has less discriminating tastes, leaving him with two slices of banana on his sandwich.  All of which took place silently, within twenty feet of me, while I was unloading the dishwasher in the morning.  He was quite gleeful, although whether it was because he tricked his silly little sister into eating subpar bananas or his problem solving skills, I couldn't actually tell.

I don't even know where to begin.

Security Items 2, Mommy 0

So, according to those parenting books, it is relatively normal for children to have security items.  You know the type - teddy bears, fuzzy blankets, a dog with one eye that you aren't allowed to wash but you can smell from 10 feet away.  My son has a full sized quilt that he drags around the house with him.  How he has not killed himself going down the stairs with the thing, I will never know.  Lowly has now decided to one-up him in the weirdness factor, and is demanding a pair of shoes.

When we were on vacation, Daddy picked out a cute little pair of denim shoes for Lowly.  The other day she wore them for the first time for about 20 minutes.  She spent the whole time running back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen, staring at her feet.  When she inevitably fell, she would sit for a few moments and poke at the bows on top of the shoes, then hop up and keep running.

That evening I noticed she had little blisters on her feet.  Nothing terrible, and nothing a pair of socks wouldn't prevent, but still, I felt bad.  One year olds should not have blisters, even if they clearly aren't bothered by them.  I put the shoes away under her bed, made a mental note to make sure she wore socks with them, even if she's just puttering around the house, and I decided to continue letting her run barefoot for a few days.

Last night, Lowly noticed the shoes under the bed, dragged them out and brought them to me.  I informed her that it was bedtime, and handed them back.  She then threw them at my feet, and for the next five minutes stood there yelling at me and stabbing her little feet into the shoes.  (She couldn't quite figure out how to get them past the elastic strap on top.)  I tried picking her up to rock her, but she arched her back, went all rigid, and screamed all the louder.  All this coming from the child who will not wear sandals and likes to fling her socks around the car.

Finally, I gave in.  It was late, I still had to get her brother to bed, and it sounded like he was trying to sneak himself a bowl of Cheerios downstairs.  Figuring that she wouldn't get blisters from just wearing them (as opposed to walking in them) I put the shoes on her, picked her up, and rocked her again.  This time, all was well.  She absentmindedly played with the bows, and within 10 minutes, she was asleep.  I'm not sure how I got the shoes back off without waking her up.

Yes, I know, I know I've created a monster.  But she can scream until she's blue in the face - she's never walking out of the house with shorts with "juicy" written across the back.

Hail, Vacations, and General Mayhem

I was all set to finally write a post last night when we were hit with some sort of apocalyptic hail storm which turned into torrential rain.  (Seriously, I saw less rain when Hurricane Irene hit.)  That in turn caused the gutters to back up, pour in through my bathroom window, and back up around our water heater.  Six towels, one cookie sheet, and a shop vac later, we're more or less back to normal.

Last week we went on our first family vacation, to the Poconos.  The kids had a great time, and WeeBee was fascinated by the concept of being on vacation.  They had a great time at the pool and the historical farm that we visited, where WeeBee decided he wanted to take home a sheep.  He was less impressed with the rooster that bit his finger, but that's what you get when you insist on poking your little fingers through the cage.  Besides, everyone needs a good "I was attacked by a bird" story.  Almost twenty five years later, I still remember the nasty goose that stole my peanut butter and jelly sandwich when we were on vacation in New England.

In the "what mayhem have my children caused" category, Lowly is walking/running.  She's still not one to babble for the sake of babbling, like WeeBee was.  She has about 10 words she uses to get what she wants, and the rest of the time she's perfectly content to watch whatever chaos is surrounding her, and then give you the raised eyebrow.  This kid's sense of timing is unreal.

WeeBee's 3rd birthday was a few weeks back.  I guess that makes him a preschooler, not a toddler?  Either way, he's shot up another six inches or something, and I'm starting to feel short standing next to him.  I was really hoping to postpone the "stand next to Mom and see who's taller" contests until he was a teenager.  He still likes to climb up in my lap and give me hugs, though, so it's all good.  :)

I Can Do Crafty Things Too!

You know all those gorgeous nurseries that you see in baby magazines?  Yeah, well, my kids' rooms don't look like that.  They had cute little crib sets, but the walls are plain, and I didn't spell their names out in 12inch high wooden letters.  I feel slightly guilty about WeeBee's room, since it was due purely to my lack of organization.  Lowly's room was pretty bare because there were a whole bunch of real life problems at the time that were a lot more urgent than what shade of paint to go pick out.

But I'm working on it!  The good thing about holding off on decorating is now WeeBee can tell me what he likes.  After I talked him out of painting the room black, his answer to everything is, "I want blue, like Thomas!"  (The Tank Engine)  So I've invested in a $2 glue gun and now I'm going to take over the world!  :)  Look what I made!

It's one of those photo/memory board things, for WeeBee's room!  The only things I had to buy were the bulletin board and the quilt batting that went underneath the blue fabric - everything else I had around the house.  (Well, not counting the glue gun.  But I needed that anyway.)  The blue fabric is from the curtains in his room which were about 2 feet too long.  I have no idea why I had that much white ribbon lying around, but I'm glad that I did.  The buttons were all from Nonna's button box, which I thought made it a little more special.  :)

If you don't have small children running around correcting you on the use of glue guns and ribbons, you could probably make it in 45 minutes (a little less if you're using a staple gun, I suppose.)  As you can guess, it took me quite a bit longer.  Still, by that afternoon, my husband was able to hang it up over WeeBee's bed.  Yay!

I'm way too excited about this...