Early Bird

Thursday, January 27th:
5:25 am: Hear Lance chattering in bed. Ignore him.
5:30 am: Hear Lance crying in bed. Try to ignore him.
5:35 am: Retrieve crying Lance from bed, along with (at his request) - his "blanks" (blankets), teby bear, and pee-low.
5:45 am: Insert Dora DVD for Lance. Sneak back to bed.
5:47 am: I hear him breathing. I feign sleep. He doesn't leave. I open one eye. Lance is 2 centimeters from my face, waiting in anticipation with a big grin. When he sees me looking at him, he squeals in delight. "Hi Guy!" he yells.
5:49 am: I decide to try sleeping on the couch while he watches Dora. Cover self with blanket.
5:59 am: Lance pulls the blanket back from my face and yells, "PEE - A - BOO!" I keep eyes closed and silently will him to go away. He begins beating my head with the book "Hop on Pop" while hollering "Pop! Pop!"
6:00 am: I read "Hop on Pop" cover to cover with my eyes closed. Then I hide the book in the cushions as he returns to Dora.
6:15 am: Am now being pounded over the head with a sippy cup. "Mik! Mik!" (Milk)
6:17 am: Give up trying to sleep. Optimistically consider all I can get done due to early rising.

11:45 am: Still not showered. Pessimistically consider all that must be done before husband gets home.
11:47 am: Kicked off 'puter by Brian as Lance approaches with book called "No Biting." (The book is filled with alternatives to bad behavior. ["No Biting Your Friends. What can you bite? Apples."] My personal review: Lance is now loaded with new ideas of bad ways to behave. He throws the book at me.)

Goldilocks

So I decide to try something different with my hair today... I scrunched up my usually straight locks to go curly. As I'm finishing the 'do, Lance comes wandering in. He stops in his tracks. His eyes grow big... and they are fixated on my hair. He stares - looking a bit disturbed. "Look Lance," I say, (as if he didn't notice), "I changed my hair!" He turns, apparently traumatized, and runs from the room. I take a look in the mirror. Not so bad, I think.

I enter Brian's room. He yells loudly, "Mommy, what'd you dood to your head?"

Me: "I tried something different! Do you like it?"

Brian (laughter): "No! It looks silly!"
Brian (still laughing): "It looks funny!"

Note to self:
1. Scratch "get new hairstyle" off to-do list
2. Teach boys to use white lies

The Count

Lance had a home visit today from our Parents as Teachers educator. She quizzed me on his skills:

Her: Can he say a 4-word sentence?
Me: No.
Her: Does he dress himself?
Me: No.
Her: Can he follow 4 rules?
Me: Can he or does he? Big difference. No.
Her: Is he doing long division?
Me: No. (Ok, I made that one up.)
Her: Can he stack a tower of 9 blocks?
Me: Yes. (Well, I don't officially know this... who counts?)
Her: Does he initiate conversations?
Me: Yes. (as long as "Hi Guy, whatta doin?" counts)
Her: Can he count to 10?
Me: Yes! Finally, something he can actually do.

Proudly, I look over at Lance, and prompt: "Lance, can you count to 10?"

Lance: "1, 2, 5, 6, 9! Yea, I did it!"

Later in the visit, he gets mad. I mean, really mad. Laying on his back, temper tantrum, kicking, screaming mad. Our educator asks gently, "Lance, what do you want? What's wrong? Use your words!" I play along - wanting to appear the perfect mother, yet knowing this is really going to tick him off because "I'm pissed" is not yet in his vocabulary - and ask, "Lance, tell us what's the matter. Use your words." This throws him into high gear as he enters round two of the fit. We politely try to ignore him, as our educator says, "Today we are going to talk about emotions..." YES, I'm thinking, he has those!

Wheels Keep On Turnin'

Brian and I had one of our deep (ok, shallow) conversations in the car today. I was explaining to him that grandma and papa were my mommy and daddy. Then I told him when he grew up, got married and had a baby, then I would be the grandma.

Silence from the backseat... (those little wheels were a turnin').

Then he pipes up (rather excitedly, I might add), "So then grandma will turn into my mommy?" Ok, guess it wasn't all that clear in his little head.

We were travelling to the hairdresser so the boys could get haircuts. Lance wasn't particularly in the mood to get a haircut today. (He figures, "I haven't had it cut in 7 weeks.. everybody already saw my shaggy head.. who cares?") He reluctantly got into the chair, and let Sara trim up the back of his head. Then he announces to the whole room, "I DID IT!" and starts to eject himself from the chair (as if his announcing it was enough to convince us all that half a haircut was okay). We gave him a sucker as a bribe to sit back down (soon to become "hairy sucker"), and then got the job done.

We ventured on to McDonald's, where Lance had a healthy lunch of french fries. Brian, I'm happy to report, ate 2 1/2 chicken nuggets with his french fries. Then Lance proceeded to completely lay down on the floor of McDonald's, AS IF it were clean enough for a body to nap upon, and AS IF he would take a nap anyway. (Just for the record, I'm not lovin' it, and I do deserve a break today.)

Mr. Underwear

Brian's preference for no clothes never seems to be of concern to him (even, I might add, in the dead of winter). However, the last two days when he heard the garage door opening as daddy got home from work, he shot off to his bedroom, yelling, "Hurry! Help me get dressed before daddy comes in!" Thinking this a bit odd, I finally asked him why it was a big deal if daddy saw him in his underwear. He said, sniffling, "Because daddy calls me "Mister Underwear Boy."

Smooth Moves, Part 2

The poop saga continues...
Turns out, mineral oil works for several days. Today's casualties are: 3 pair pants, 2 shirts, 3 pair socks. To make matters worse, the "potty training in progress" has headed south. The novelty is gone, and so are our trips to the bathroom. I asked Lance today if he wanted to sit on the potty chair, and he said quite clearly, "Die-pah."

Ha Dawg

Brian was sleeping (in his favorite bed -- MINE) next to his favorite person (ME). Lance wandered in to see what we were doing. Brian began talking in his sleep, and much to my amusement, the boys had a conversation that went like this:

B: "Are you going to eat your hot dog, Lance?"
L: "Ha Dawg."
B (in high pitched-baby talking voice): "Here Lance, here's your hot dog!"
L (in happy baby voice): "Ha Dawg!"

Then Brian rolled back over, most likely moving on to dreams of french fries and chicken nuggets.

Smooth Moves

It is official - mineral oil does make a body poop. I snuck a tablespoon into the apple juice of Mr. Poopin' Trouble (aka Brian). He wasn't real interested in drinking it. I turned around, and turned back just in time to see Mr. NO Poopin' Trouble (aka Lance) finishing it off. Well, the following day was a real treat, let me tell you... the poop was just a rollin' out. Didn't seem to bother Lance any, but those Huggies are just not compatible with the mineral oil-induced poops. Yuck!

Stinky

Being cooped up with two boys (one sick) in freezing weather makes for a long day. And too much time for Brian (4) to think.. He asked me to tell him a story about having a new baby (as if giving him ONE baby brother isn't enough...). When we got to the part about picking a name for his imaginary sibling, his choices were "Tooty, Stinky, or Farty." Of course, I told him it could be a girl, and then those names would be completely inappropriate. (Upon further consideration, I remembered "Tootie" from Facts of Life, so maybe that one is unisex.) But returning to the point, we feel two boys are p-l-e-n-t-y... and who would want a baby named Farty anyway? How would we explain it to the grandparents? How do you give a baby named Farty a nickname? I just don't need that extra pressure.