All by himself.

Because of my extraordinary expertise at uploading pictures on this blog;  a.  they are in the wrong order and b.  they are repeated and c.  at least they're on here.

Anyway.  One day, we were outside and Eddie and CJ were working on the "turtle pool" - he'd dumped the dog water in the pool and needed more water.  So, he went inside, got his step-stool, filled the bucket with water in kitchen sink and then came out - I caught him as he was coming out the door.

So, so, so cute.

One of those days I won't soon forget.

kids

both kinds.

pull-ups

Ok. I admit it. I once swore vehemently that I would not use 'pull-ups'. "What is the purpose of those?", I asked myself. Well, now I know. When you are potty-training a strong-willed little boy I have a little advice;

a. buy the pull-ups. They work better than a diaper in the transitional event that the wee one is not quite ready for an outing with nothing on their bum. Diapers just never go back on the same way after you've velcroed the little tabs on. Besides, you can only bring so many under-pants, and pants. I thought the idea of a potty-training toddler was that you finally eliminated the "Diaper Bag".

b. the pull-ups are not quite up to snuff when it comes to overnight usage. Use a regular diaper.

c. nod your head and smile patronizingly at me, when I tell you I'm seriously considering using dishtowels at this point. With safety pins.

p.s. since when did the words 'safety' and 'pins' go together, that's like saying.....safety pin.

don't try this at home

Here was the list of things to do yesterday: (WITH the three year old)

• truck inspection (but they weren't there - wasted 4 miles worth of gas
• get gas (right arm and leg are now gone)
• take aluminum cans to recycler (to scrounge more gas money)
• post office (mail package, priority mail envelope and get stamps all while holding sleeping three year old
• McDonalds - must have happy meal WITH toy or WWIII will break out. Seriously.
• dr. appt. for Mommy so she can get her hearing fixed (although later in the day may wish she couldn't hear anything at all)
• wal-mart, the phrase alone strikes fear into the hearts of women with toddlers everywhere. some without toddlers fear it too.

Yeah, so let's expound on wal-mart.. (i'm too tired to capitalize and puntuate properly) "I just need a few things". The six most dangerous words of the english language (as compared to the FIVE most dangerous words; maybe this will go away) when it comes to discount or warehouse/clubhouse shopping.

I needed a birthday card. Check

I needed some cold/allergy medication. Check (oh, did I mention the three year old also has a cold? yeah.)

I needed to exchange a pair of shorts for a smaller size (YAY!!) but, could not find them in the size i needed, so settled somewhat grumpily for the capri version of the same maker/model/fit.

I needed bananas, milk, peanut butter and half-n-half. Check.

what I did NOT need was the new seasonal aisle RIGHT THERE in the middle of the store - 3 aisles WIDE and 2 blocks DEEP woth LOTS of bright COLORS and advertising the candy. Yes, they are officially halloweenie'ing. (i call it halloweenie becuase i hate it. i get extremely annoyed with the word even)

that was all the toddler needed. it was five 'o clock. we were both starving. daddy is already home, wondering where we are (read: where his supper is) and suddenly, everyone, their mother, and their cousin is in line.

right next to the candy display.

he screamed the whole time.

and you know, there aren't many things more frustrating and infuriating than not being able to discipline your child in public for fear of some crunchy-anti-spanking-baby-wearing-cloth-diapering person come whisking over your way to tell you how to deal with YOUR CHILD. From YOUR WOMB.

it was complete with snotty nose and all. at one point he realized he could blow bubbles with his snot. the nice lady behind me handed me a kleenex (one. she handed me one when we were clearly having a snot blowout. maybe she wasn't so nice) and I promptly wrestled him still enough to grab the glob of snot from his face and throw it away.

more screaming. I totally ignored him. the entire time. then I started giggling. and before long it was almost incontrollable belly laughter.

i'm starting to hyperventilate just reliving it. here. at home.

anyways. don't try this at home folks.

just leave wal-mart off the list entirely and you'll be a better mom for it.

We're still here

and it's been quite some time since the last post. This is a great example of how motherhood can simply take over and make every other thing sporadic at best. Like, housekeeping. I just saw cobwebs on my desk. ON the desk. (insert eye roll here)

anyhow. I'll be back when I can form coherent sentences and utilize capitalization. like I went to school for. And eliminate fragmented sentences.

ciao.

Fast Forward

I'd like to write something poignant or profound here, but really, time is just flying around here. If you look UP to see it flying around, make sure your mouth is closed.

Having company last month was wonderful. Eddie even asked for Grandma after we dropped her off at the airport. (see, time DOES really fly)

This month is nearly half-over and I haven't a clue how much time has been spent on what. (apparently, not only does time fly, it is 'spent' like cash)(and we all know how cash is like water) (I'm seeing an earthy element to all this...air, water...)

But anyhow, this isn't supposed to be MY journal, now is it. But really, It's All About You Eddie, I tell him often. So, anything directed here really IS about him. He's currently sitting on the floor, watching something on PBS, and therefore allowing me to hang out a load of clothes on the line, finish painting the small boards on the porch and check out my seedlings in the garden. And, of course, spend time here.

In less than an hour we must be dressed and ready to fly as we're going to town with Ms. Geraldine, the retired schoolteacher who runs the grocery across the street. (really, it's just a little country market with milk, bread, moonpies, and a bunch of stuff I can't eat. I mean, I CAN eat it, but when 25 grams of fat disappears in less than three bites, you can be absolutely sure it will RE-APPEAR on the hips. Or the belly. Or the thighs...sigh.) See, Ms. Geraldine bought a new car, so we'll drive up together for her to take delivery of her new car and I'll drive the old jalopy back. Just kidding. It's a Lincoln something-or-other, and a not so old model at that.

I'm sure time will fly then, also. When we get back, I'll consult my seventeen mile long 'to-do' list and probably accomplish at least one of the items. Like, let the goats out. After that, let the toddler chasing and time-flying at home, begin.

Even though the days fly by, there isn't anything better than watching time fly WITH my little boy. Maybe today we'll throw a kite out there to sail around with our friend Time.

Company coming!

This is going to be a busy month for company. Today Grandpa Lou arrives from NJ and because of his work schedule (yes, he's retired, but still works) he can only stay until Tuesday morning... (insert sad smiley face here) but we're so blessed he can come and visit often. Little Eddie LOVES his Grandpa Lou. MeMe Carol is traveling in Europe for a couple weeks but I'm sure she'll be back down with Grandpa Lou by summertime (Eddie's Birthday is June 21st) and as usual, we'll have a great time.

On April 18th, Grandma Marie comes to visit from Colorado and she'll stay until the 28th, we can't wait.

Meanwhile, Gregg, Kathy and Eric are going on a mini-spring-break-vacation and we'll have the company of their four Great Danes; Lacy, Sophia, Star and Holly. I think they will drop the dogs off on Monday and be back before the end of the week.

So it will be a month of visitor, and we LOVE having company. I'm looking forward to it, and although Eddie doesn't really grasp the concept of someone coming to visit, he does love it when we have company. Humans or dogs.

Just hoping we can hang on the potty training progress we've made. You know how an interruption in routine can wreak havoc on those kinds of things.....

Hunting Eggs

Last Sunday the church (one of 20 in a five mile radius) put on an Easter egg hunt for the kids. Gregg, Kathy, and Eric were here at Hope Farms, so I grabbed a couple of baskets and we headed to the church.

A few of the older kids hid the eggs. The remaining older kids peered out the windows in a not-so-sneaky fashion and tried to spy on WHERE the eggs were being hidden. Eddie was the second youngest. The youngest was an adorable little girl in a cute denim dress named Savannah. Eddie seemed to follow her around as they gathered eggs, and at one point, I encouraged him to give her some of his eggs, which he did selflessly. So cute.

When we first went outside, I told him to look for the eggs, and it took him a few minutes to grasp the concept, but once he realized they were all over the place, I could hardly keep up with him. He was silent and focused the entire time, it was as though this was his first important JOB! haha! I wish I had a camera, because I'd have snapped photos of him in his jeans, spring colored button down shirt and coordinating vest. Yes, I even brushed his hair!

So, imagine a cute picture of said toddler HERE.

After all the eggs were gathered (who knows how many were left out there...) we went inside to open the pastel colored plastic halves to find a bible verse tucked inside. Ann, the Sunday School Teacher read corresponding verses and whomever had a matching verse won a prize. Of course, there were matching verses for all and every child got a prize. And then there was the bags of candy.

CANDY!!! Eddie loves candy. He loudly expressed his delight and shouted, "Mommy! open that one, baby want the big one! CANDY!! Chocolate!". It's a good thing Easter comes once a year. Along with halloween, Christmas, valentines, not to mention birthdays. Of course, I had to sample some of the candy for him, as to ensure it was fresh. hee hee!

This Sunday we'll probably hard-cook some eggs and hide them for Eddie to find. And eat lots of candy. And next year, I'll make more of a concerted effort to teach Eddie the reason for the celebration of this day.

He is Risen.

Presently, ...

There is a toddler and a puppy chasing one another around the house as it's yet a bit too cold to venture outside. There's usually some screaming and barking and little feet pounding the wood floors in this old farmhouse, and I love to hear that sound. Sometimes there is food stolen from his hands (read: puppy) and occasional boo-boo's that need to be kissed and hugged away. And then there are trying times which sound like this: "Eddie, get DOWN from there or you're going to get a spanking!!". Ahhhh. Sweet times.

And when it's quiet? Watch out. Oft times that means that there is an entire roll of toilet paper strewn about the house or a large box of baking soda dumped on to the pantry floor. It's hard to get mad when he's discovering something. And easy to get mad if you're trying to get ready to go somewhere and he manages to get muddy in 0.9 seconds after you open the door to walk to the pickup truck.

All in all, not much gets completed some days when toddler chasing takes priority over housecleaning, or gathering wood, or cleaning out stalls in the barn, but a little bit at a time gets done.

I'm being paged. It seems the puppy is under the bed with one of his favorite tractors, chewing the wheels off.

Must. Go. Rescue. John. Deere.

Mean Moms

I'm sure most of us have seen this before, no doubt in an email with 1245 other email addresses in the "CC to:" field.

Enjoy. I personally plan on printing this out when Eddie turns 11.

Mean Moms

Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic that
motivates a parent, I will tell them, as my Mean Mom told me: I loved you enough
to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time you would be home.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover that your new best
friend was a creep. I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours
while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes. I loved
you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, and tears in my eyes. Children
must learn that their parents aren't perfect..

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your actions
even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart. But most
of all, I loved you enough to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it.Those
were the most difficult battles of all. I'm glad I won them, because in the end
you won, too. And someday when your children are old enough to understand the
logic that motivates parents, you will tell them.

Was your Mom mean? I know mine was. We had the meanest mother
in the whole world!While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have
cereal, eggs, and toast. When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch,we had
to eat sandwiches. And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was
different from what other kids had, too.

Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were
convicts in a prison. She had to know who our friends were and what we were
doing with them. She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an
hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor
Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook,
vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.
I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do. She
always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds and had eyes in
the back of her head. Then, life was really tough! Mother wouldn't
let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up
to the door so she could meet them. While everyone else could date when they
were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids
experienced. None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's
property or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault. Now that we
have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best
to be mean parents just like Mom was. I think that is what's wrong with
the world today. It just doesn't have enough mean moms!

PASS THIS ON TO ALL THE MEAN MOTHERS YOU KNOW.(And Their Kids)

Sentences, and more...

Watching a child grow is like riding on a fast-moving train, trying to take in all the scenery, and store it in memory.

"baby want milk, mommy". "baby pee on a tree". "mommy make supper?".

Yeah, those are them. Baby sentences. Compliments of a strong-willed, smarter-than-your-average-chicken nearly three year old offspring.

I was looking in the mirror the other day and admiring the fact that I still look like me, when I hear this voice calling from the other end of the house, "mommy, mommy, MOMMY!!!" and I realized, eyes widening, "I'm a MOTHER!". I mean, don't get me wrong, I've known I was a mother since I had the never-to-be-humble opportunity to pee on a stick and see a little pink line appear but occasionally, it hits you. Like a wrinkle. I mean, you KNOW you're going to get them, but when they become visible (in the dark!) it becomes REAL.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit. Ever hear or read that story? Meryl Streep does a great job at narrating the story with some fabulous George Winston piano work. I highly recommend it. Anyway, being a mother is not something you become all at once. You evolve, somewhat, into the role. And being able to interpret 'baby sentences' is kinda like getting a diploma, or a masters degree.

I jokingly refer to myself as a household executive and child development specialist, but really, I'm a stay-at-home mom who likes to do just that. Stay at home. If I had to drop said child off at daycare from 7am to 6pm I think my interpretations skills would be hindered. I would not be 'bi-lingual' in the sense that I can speak adult AND baby.

Eddie has become quite the polite young man, saying his Please, Thank You, and Welcome's when prompted and sometimes not prompted. He can retrieve his shoes from his room, and pull his pants up and down now. Something he says that makes me laugh out loud is "oh my gosh" and "watch mommy, watch". He's a tree-climber from way back.

He can count to three, and knows his name, my name, daddy's name, and the name of the town we live in, and says, "hi there" and "bye bye" to people, when they come to visit, and then go.

Life is good. Toddlerhood is fun. Motherhood is ever-changing. New sentences abound as I type.

The every day present

Having a small child is like getting to open a present everyday.

Sometimes he's cranky, sometimes he is smiley, but he's always a present. A lot of days he doesn't get his hair brushed, or get out of his pajama's until ten o'clock, but everyday, I get to be with him. And he with me.

Potty Training?

The question mark is for the word training. Training would reflect discipline right? Ah. I wish I had some of that. What aisle is that found on?

So, I've found that potty training might be better when the weather is warmer than say, 20 degrees farenheit. See, my philosophy, or discipline, which are interchangeable for me, is that I should take his diaper off first thing in the morning, put a clean t-shirt on him, and let him run around naked, asking him every 20 minutes if he has to pee.

So far I've been able to get him to tell me once, that he had to pee, and he did! We've gone through a few costume changes lately (like 5 in 6 hours) but overall, I think he's catching on. By his third birthday I believe he'll be calling me from the bathroom asking me to wipe his bottom.

I think it will help when I don't have to warm up the seat of his "big boy toilet" in front of the woodstove in the morning before he can sit on it and pee. (we have had success with him imitating daddy peeing on a tree, but, see the 20 degree sentence.)

more to come as we make potty progress......

Toddler Tired

So, I wish I could transfer Eddie's energy to me. Or bottle it. I'd be a quadruplebilliontrillionaire. Is that a word? Anyway, I'm so tired, I can't stay on here and blog. Or vent which, really, let's be honest folks, is what this is. A vent spot. Good, bad and indifferent. Besides, hubby just brought me a cup of herbal tea, and the toddler is momentarily not hanging off of my leg!! Must. Go. Enjoy. The. Moment!

Chalk-it

That's Eddie-speak for Chalk. The big fat round sticks of chalk usually used for say....sketching a hop-scotch pattern on concrete except, lately, it's his toy of choice. He likes to write on the chairs, the dining room table, the back of my office chair, his dresser, and most annoying, the walls. He will ask repeatedly for it until I, said supposed parent, give in. Which is usually around 400 times. I just break for some wierd reason right around that number.

There's drywall (sheetrock? what's the difference) in our bedroom that we plan on tearing down, so we let him have free reign over the walls with the 'chalk-it'. He loves to draw 'ciwcowles' and gets giddy if you draw him a snowman, or better yet, a tractor. Yellow, white, pink, green and blue. Any color will do. You get used to it after a while. We won't tear it down until probably a month or so, that way he can do what no toddler before him has actually been given permission to do; DRAW ON THE WALLS.

Funny thing is, these sticks of chalk must be joined up with the lost socks of the world because I'm down to just three or four sticks from about....oh, TWENTY. They can't possibly get swept under a rug. I HAVE found them in the middle of the night on my way to the bathroom, and who ever thought that stepping on a piece of chalk could hurt so bad! I really don't know where they could be. Maybe I should check the dryer. That seems to be where half of his toddler sized socks dissappear from on a regular basis.

And don't get me started on crayons. WHY oh WHY must kids break crayons? It must be some small form of OCD in me that exists in a small closet of my brain that bursts out when a crayon is broken. And labels? "take off" he says to me. If I don't peel the crayon label off, he'll do it himself, and I find a little trail of 'violet blue' all around the house. Then, later, as I'm vacuuming, I suck up half sticks of Crayolas. A friend of mine said to me, "don't throw them away, save all the broken pieces of crayons, and then when you get a good lot of them, melt them down in to one big swirly-gig of colors". Thanks Kelly, FANTASTIC idea. No label to peel. Just his style.

I think though, for a while longer, (like, TEN YEARS) we'll keep the crayons in the highest cabinet and stick with the chalk. It wipes off the walls and most everything else SO much easier than crayons, and of course, keeps the OCD at bay. *must look into the obsessive desire to keep crayons intact and labeled.....

It's 5:39am. I've got but a couple hours left of chalk-free time.