Normal?

WeeBee likes to climb/bounce/hang all over everything.  I had the following conversation with him shortly before he wedged himself between my bed and the wall and had to be rescued.

Mommy:  (seeing WeeBee run laps on my bed)  WeeBee, please sit down like a normal person.
WeeBee:  Ohhhhhhh.  (pause)  Mommy, what's that?

Not only does my two year old have an answer for everything, he's already realized we're not normal.  Isn't he going to be fun when he's 13?

I've Never Been a Chicken

Or Explaining Halloween to a Toddler...

The other afternoon I was driving home from the store and started trying to explain Halloween to WeeBee. He's at that weird age where he might like dressing up, but at the same time you can't just shove him in a costume and call it a day.  I mean, the other morning he wandered into my room with two laundry baskets on his head, on his way to find a crayon.  He will putter around the house in any shoe he can find.  But I don't think he really has much of a clue about costumes.  Our conversation ran something like this...

Mommy:  Guess what, WeeBee!  Halloween is coming.  That's when people dress up in costumes.
WeeBee:  'ween?  Costumes?
Mommy:  Yeah.  People pretend to be something else.  Lowly is going to be a ladybug.  But people dress up as dogs...or cats...or ghosts...or Bob the Builder...or chickens...
WeeBee:  (cutting me off)  What?!?!  I've never been a chicken!


Unfortunately, typing does not convey the disbelief in his voice when he heard me suggest dressing up as a chicken.  So not only is that off our short list, I don't think I'm any closer to explaining Halloween, which he now thinks is a day for wackos to wear chicken suits...

Mommy, I Have Sneezles!

WeeBee has always had a fascination with people being sick.  (One of the first phrases he learned to say was "You sick?" when a person sneezed or coughed.)  Lately he's taken to fake sneezing and coughing whenever he hears someone else cough.  Usually, it's cute, but in the supermarket, not so much.  Last week he heard a woman cough and then he started imitating her until it sounded as if he belonged in a tubercular ward.  The only thing that made it marginally better was that we weren't in the produce section.

Between the dust that's been kicked up from us attempting to clean the house a bit, and the pollen in the air with fall beginning, we've all been sneezing.  At last, WeeBee has discovered the joy of tissue boxes.  Not only do they make awesome homes for his toy trains, he can run and get "sheeeshoes" out of them every time he sneezes, wad four or five of them up, and blow his nose.  Today he triumphantly announced, "Mommy, I have sneezles!" and ran into my room to find the tissue box.  Apparently, somewhere along the line, sniffles became sneezles.  At least, I think that's what he meant.  Either way, at least he understands that dirty tissues go in the garbage can.

I Guess It Will Make A Good Story to Tell My Grandkids

I used to think my life was really boring.  I'm starting to reconsider that.

Yes, I felt the earthquake a few weeks back.  No, I didn't realize what it was at first.  I was in my bedroom, getting up from my desk, when it started shaking underneath my hand.  At first I chalked it up to rickety Ikea furniture and a bus going by outside.  Then I realized there was no bus outside.  I hesitated between my chair and the bed while the house felt like it was rolling under my feet.

My next thought was, "Oh my gosh, my house is collapsing because of shoddy construction and I'm going to be on the news tonight.  Three dead in house collapse on Jersey Shore!"  (Accompanied by arial views of my house looking like a pile of matchsticks.)

I remember thinking that the shaking felt very regimented for a house that was going to collapse for no identifiable reason, which was when I finally thought "earthquake?" followed by "Nahhh" and "What the heck do I do now?"

Just as I figured the hallway might be a better place to go, it stopped.  Lowly had slept through the whole thing, and WeeBee was perfectly happy watching Oswald the Octopus.  I ran downstairs and looked out the window, but nothing seemed unusual.  Then I went back up, and went on the computer.  Nothing had made it on the news yet, but on Facebook people were already asking, "What was that?!?!"  I have to admit, it was rather reassuring to know I wasn't losing my mind.

Then, less than a week later, we get hit with Hurricane Irene.  We were actually evacuated, and fortunately were able to spend the weekend with my aunt and uncle, who live further inland.  I know people say that possessions can be replaced, but that really isn't any comfort when you're packing your kids into a car and pulling away from your house with no idea what is going to be left when you get back.  It wasn't the worst moment of my life, but it certainly makes the top ten.  I was convinced that we were going to get flooded out, and I have a serious phobia of flash floods, so that wasn't helping.

Fortunately, we were able to return that Monday.  We had a lot of branches down, and the yard was a soggy, mosquito filled mess for a week, but the house itself was fine.  I don't think we lost power for very long, but people in the towns around us were still waiting for it to come back a week later.  WeeBee and Lowly had a great time visiting my aunt and uncle, and I don't think WeeBee had any idea that anything was out of the ordinary.  I still can't believe how lucky we were.

I'm really hoping Fall is a little less exciting, though.

Ten Years Later

Well, it's been a busy few weeks since I last posted - earthquakes, hurricanes, and such.  I'll get to all that in my next post.

I was a junior in high school on 9/11.  During the three minute break between a double chemistry period, my lab partner and I ran to the biology lab down the hall, which overlooked the Manhattan skyline.  Looking back, I've always been a little surprised the faculty let us hang around and watch, but I think everyone was too horrified to do anything.  Even if I wanted to, I will never get that image out of my head. The north tower was still standing, and the south tower must have just fallen, although we didn't realize it at the time.  (There was an insane amount of smoke, and it never occurred to my friends and I that a building that large could just collapse like that.)  Maybe one day I'll find the words to describe what it's like to know you're watching hundreds of people die, but today is not that day.

God Bless America.

So Apparently You Really Can Scream Until You're Blue In the Face

I found that out yesterday.  I'd never actually seen it happen, which is kind of surprising when you consider I had five siblings.  Odds are that one of us would have done it at least once, but no.  Leave it to WeeBee.

And what caused this?  Evil Mommy wanted him to brush his teeth.

WeeBee has a love/hate relationship with tooth brushing.  He likes his toothbrush.  He likes watching other people brush their teeth.  He will agree to brush his own teeth, but unfortunately that consists of gnawing at the toothbrush.  As soon as Mommy comes near him to brush his teeth, his mouth clamps shut and he goes all jelly legged.  If Mommy succeeds in getting the toothbrush in his mouth, he alternates between wailing at the top of his lungs and biting down on the toothbrush as hard as he can.

Yesterday morning, as soon as I walked over to him, he started screaming bloody murder and ran away.  I managed to corner him in the hallway, where he continued to scream even louder.  Then I realized he was turning blue.  Like blueberry blue.  It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen.  I always thought that kids turned blue when they'd do that silent scream, or hold their breath because they're ticked off, and turn beet red when they're hollering at the top of their lungs.  Here he was, screaming like he was being tortured, and turning into a blueberry.

In the amount of time it took to ask, "WeeBee, what the heck are you doing?" he was back to normal.  Well, normal as in not blue.  I took advantage of that moment to pin his arms down and brush his teeth as quickly as possible.  Definitely wasn't the most thorough job, but at that point it was more about proving that holding your breath does not get you out of brushing your teeth.

Maybe it worked, because that night he brushed his teeth without any drama at all.

WeeBee 1, Mommy 0

The other afternoon I wanted to make a quick trip over to Target to get a new extension cord, since I accidentally ran the old one over with the lawn mower.  Usually when I go shopping I try to leave Lowly home with Daddy, because she vehemently objects to being in a shopping cart that is not constantly in motion.  I don't shop that way - I'm always fumbling for circulars and coupons and comparing prices, and if I can get out of a store in ten minutes I consider that to be a huge accomplishment.  WeeBee, on the other hand, loves sitting in the cart and giving a running commentary on everything he sees and everything we need to buy.  You haven't really lived until you've wandered through Foodtown on a Sunday morning with a toddler yelling, "CHICKEN, WHERE ARE YOUUUUUU?" at the top of his lungs.

Anyway, back to the Target trip.  I told WeeBee I was going to the store, and asked him if he wanted to come along.  At first he said no, then he changed his mind, and started running around the house looking for his sandals.  (When one lives with a toddler, a good third of the time it takes to get out of the house is spent searching for footwear.)  Once he found his sandals, he ran over to Lowly, who was perfectly happy in her swing, and had the following conversation:

WeeBee:  Lowly!  You coming in car?  Carseat?
Mommy:  No, WeeBee, Lowly is going to stay here with Daddy.  Come on, we'll go bye-bye in the car and go to Target.
WeeBee:  Lowly, you want carseat?
Mommy:  No, Lowly's staying here.  Come on.
WeeBee:  (starts fumbling with the buckle on Lowly's seat strap)  Lowly come.  Carseat!
Mommy:  WeeBee, come on!
WeeBee:  (throwing self on floor and rolling around)  Nooooo!  Lowly come too!  Lowlyyyyyyy!

Ninety nine times out of a hundred, I have zero tolerance for temper tantrums.  But there he was, on the dining room floor, crying because he just wanted to be with his little sister.  He loves going to the store, and he wanted Lowly to have as much fun as he was.

Ten years from now he may very well deny this ever happened.  So, just this once, I gave in.