Tuesday, October 25, 2011

He's Actually Human After All

Drew.  Oh, Drew.

My fourth and final child, the two year old spitfire who loves life and finds joy (and chaos) at every turn.  The one who seems to defy all rules, including the laws of gravity and every child-proofing device ever made.

I never thought I'd find something that could stop him.  From his first concussion at nineteen months to the fact that he can do a twenty five piece puzzle with all the pieces flipped over so he can't see the picture, he is not normal.  I have never met a two year old that can do what this kid can do.

For a while, I thought he was unstoppable.

Until now.

It was last week.  I was in the kitchen, prepping and freezing 50 pounds of chicken when I heard from the living room. "Mommy, help!  I's stuck!"  Being the attentive, responsive, caring mother I am, I replied, "Well, get un-stuck then!"

It didn't work.  After some pretty serious wailing, I washed the raw chicken off my hands and went to investigate what exactly it was that caused this child, this unusually strong and independent child, to be stuck and unable to move.

I saw it.  And then I laughed.

Mr. Crazy had been climbing in the windowsill again.  He knows he is not supposed to, he knows that he gets in trouble every time, but he also knows that when Mommy is covered in raw chicken, it's gonna take a lot to get her to come check things out.

We had decorated for Halloween.

My dear unstoppable child was stuck in a tangled mess of polyester spiderweb, long strings of white web hooked around the latches of his firefighter jacket.  He looked at me, his eyes huge and scared, wrapped up in web that still hung from the top of the windowsill.

Apparently, Halloween decorations aren't just for decorating.  And spider webs are extremely strong and catch-y, even the fake kind.  

I'mma gonna have to remember that, and file that information away for future use.

So if you ever come over and find fake spiderwebs hanging from my windows in July, don't judge me, m'kay?

Monday, October 17, 2011

Random Ramblings About Cars And Fences

Man, it's hard to get back into he swing of blogging. I feel like I need something big to happen in order to blog about it, but I never was that way before. What is it about taking a break that totally throws off your bloggy groove? I have no idea.

So let's see, what's been going on? Life is crazy, as usual, and we are fully into the swing of fall. Although I did take the boys to pre-school this morning and found myself driving to Emma's school instead. That's what I get for driving while having an imaginary conversation with someone from the PTO at the elementary school, I end up going to the elementary school.

Yup. I'm brilliant.

I got my first speeding ticket in a very long time this weekend. That was fun. I was mostly disappointed because I finally had the money to go get the bookcase I have been wanting forever and ever and instead I get to support our county sheriff's office. And the cop had no interest in having a conversation so I could try and talk my way out of the ticket, I didn't stand a chance. But what was more frustrating was the fact that almost immediately after I called my husband to tell him, he facebooked this:

Hey Tiff Stauffer, c'mon down, you are the next contestant on "Here's Your Ticket!" At least you are supporting the struggling state budget, right??!? $144, but then again, I do get to tease you for a while. Might just be worth it!!

Thanks, babe.  Because I totally wanted all of our friends and family to find out.  You are so helpful.

Of course, I took the high road again (because I'm such a good person) and didn't respond back about the fact that a couple of years ago, he got a ticket for speeding through a school zone while on a cell phone and got pulled over right in front of his sister's house as his niece and nephew were getting off the bus.  And that he didn't have proof of insurance in his car, and gave the officer his business card instead, hoping that the fact that he is an insurance agent would work.

Nope, I didn't bring that up at all.


Luckily, I didn't even have to think about letting everyone in Facebook-land know that he backed his car into the fence last week, after my saying several times, "if you park there, you will back into the fence someday," because he was nice enough to bring it up first.

Maybe he is a good guy after all.

Love you, honey!

Friday, October 14, 2011

I Killed Woody Woodpecker

Yup, it's true. Although I still maintain that Woody just tried to take on my van and lost.

I think we have all had those experiences, you know where a bird flies right in front of your car and you swear there is no way you couldn't have not hit it.  (Don'tcha love the double-negative?)  Lemme tell ya, from my experience today, you'd know.

Because it comes with a very jolting thump. And if you're super-special, you might also get a bit of bird guts flying up and landing on your windshield.

Guess what?!?  I'm super-special!!

So I was on the phone with my hubby at the time. The birdie came swooping in from the side, and then there was the whole thump-and-guts thing. I might have screamed. Or gasped. I don't know.

All I know is I started yelling to my husband what had happened (because as we all know, yelling information over the phone is much more effective than simply speaking information when you are startled) to which he responded in the sweetest, most understanding way- by accusing me of being a bird-killer. What do you do if your darling, adorable, least-sensitive-man-in-the-world husband responds to your upset-ed-ness by calling you a murderer?

Well, I don't know what you would do. But I took the high road. I was the grown up. I was mature in my response, allowing no morsel of revenge to take place.

Or, I pulled over and took a picture of the bird, still embedded in the front of my van, and texted it to him.

You will have to guess which one of these things I chose to do.

Oh, and by the way, removing a dead birdie who is still warm from it's position half-way under your hood is a very sad thing. And you might not realize that your kids are watching the whole thing.  And you might feel bad about just putting it in the gas station garbage can, but you don't dare bring it into the van to bring it home for a proper burial.

Because good heavens, do you know what would happen if Drew got a hold of a dead bird?!?

After a quick Google search I identified it as a Pacific Northwest hairy woodpecker.   And that made me sad, because I love woodpeckers.

Anywhoo, I did the grown-up mature thing again and answered the kids' questions about the bird.  And then I did the brilliant slightly dysfunctional move of using this as a life lesson in why we don't cross the street without looking, or we might get hit by a car and die and leave nothing but a severed wing in the road as the only piece of evidence that your life has ended in such a horrible, tragic way.

OK, I didn't go that far.  But I did remind them of the bird the next day when Drew tried to run straight into the parking lot without looking. 

Killing Woody the Woodpecker with your car - the life lesson that keeps on giving.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Not Me! Monday!

Ahhh, Monday, how I love you and your bloggy fun.  :)

Last week, my darling husband and I had a date.  An actual, real date with actual, real friends that included wine and lots and lots of laughter.  It was awesome.


Leading up to this awesome time, we did NOT do the ever-so-brilliant thingy where I think he is finding a sitter and he thinks I am finding a sitter, so we wait till the last minute and then everyone is busy.

Nope, NOT us!

So the morning of the event, I asked our neighbor, whose daughter plays with Emma regularly and whom I trust.  She was available.  Perfect.

The kids, however, are used to being watched by family, so the idea of someone else coming to babysit was a little different.  They were thrilled, believe me, but the whole concept of being "babysat" was a new thing.

And apparently, they forgot what was going on.

We went to Safeway to get some groceries, and as we were standing in line the lady asked me the ever-so common question.  "Are they all yours?"  Well, actually, I had an extra that day, so for the first time ever I had to say no.  That felt weird.  Seeing that we were having a conversation, Grant decided to take part and interject what was on his mind.

Don't worry, he did NOT get confused to what was happening that evening, so he did NOT say to her, "Hey guess what?  We're getting kidnapped today!"

Nope, NOT my kid!

I corrected him, embarrassed, and let him know that getting kidnapped and getting babysat were two different things entirely.  Then I silently prayed that the line would move quickly and we could get outta there before she had a chance to memorize my face and call the authorities.  Being the normal, sane mother that I am, I did NOT have images of the kids actually getting kidnapped and then having the lady from Safeway report that this was balloon-boy-type incident and the kids would never be found.

NOPE, I am NOT that deranged.

Then I noticed that we hadn't moved forward in line.  At all.  And no one was beeping anything at any of the registers. 

NOPE, I was NOT in line with a woman who my kid had just told that he was getting kidnapped right at the very moment that apparently a meteor hit the satellite that controls the registers, shutting the entire store down for about twenty minutes.


"Mom?"  Grant did NOT ask, "what time is the neighbor coming to kidnap us today?"

"Grant, she is coming to babysit you, not kidnap you.  Babysitting is when someone comes to your house to watch you and that someone is not your mommy or daddy."


NOPE.  I did NOT stand there in line with a two year old, a three year old, and two four year olds who were excited to get kidnapped, for twenty minutes while trying to avoid eye contact with the lady next to me.


My darling two year old IS normal.  Just your basic ordinary kid.

Sorry, even in a "not me" I couldn't get through that one without laughing.

Anywhoo, over the weekend he decided to dress himself in his finest.  His Seahawks jersey, his puppy dog boxer briefs, and his red rubber boots composed his outfit of choice. 

 Two year old ladies, get in line.

As I was working in the kitchen, he came into the room with his boots making a lovely schoomp-sploosh sound with every step.

"What's up with your boots, buddy?"  I asked innocently.

"I's just water, Mommy," came the adorable reply.  I checked him.  His undies were dry.  We were safe.

I took him into the bathroom and set him in the tub to take off the boots.  I stepped into a huge puddle on the way, and noticed a great deal of liquid on the floor.  "What is all this, Drew?"  "Oh, i's just water."  I looked around.  There was a lot of it, and right next to the toilet.  Starting to wonder what kind of water I was standing in, I asked, "Buddy, where did it all come from?"

He did NOT answer in the most matter-of-fact way, "Fwom my pee-nis."

NOPE.  My kid did NOT get within three inches of the toilet, then turn around, lower his undies and pee all over the floor and in both of his rubber boots, filling them up at least a half-inch each.

Certainly NOT my kid!!


Head on over to MckMama's blog to see what she and everyone else have NOT been doing this week!

Monday, October 3, 2011

Not Me! Monday!

Ahhh, I love Not Me! Monday!  The chance to NOT admit my (many, many) parenting imperfections and dismiss the common assumption that I have wonderfully well behaved children and that our life is perfect.  Oh, wait, you didn't assume that?!?  Oh, good, you've been paying attention. ;)

Last week I headed to bed, tired and drained.  I decided to watch a little TV before sleeping, so I tuned it on to Nick at Nite.  Now, I have loved Nick at Nite for a long time and have watched it off and on for many years. Re-runs of I Dream of Jeannie, Mr. Ed, Bewitched, and others have been so entertaining to me.  As I turned the channel, it suddenly hit me what old, fun, outdated show was on.

It was Friends.

NOPE, I have NOT reached the age where shows that were first aired after I was out of high school are now on Nick at Nite.  Shows that I watched in my adulthood are NOT now fodder for the young kids to come in and see and be entertained by how things were in the olden days.  No, that episode was NOT originally aired fifteen years ago.

Friends is NOT on Nick at Nite.

And I am NOT that old.

As we were headed into the grocery store late one evening, my darling son decided at the very last minute that he needed his sweatshirt.  Being the kind, loving, considerate mother that I am, I did NOT tell him, "Too bad.  You had your chance, now we're headed inside."  NOPE, I would never do that, even though I had warned him to get his sweatshirt on before he got out of the van.

My darling, sweet Emma decided to be so helpful that she took off her own sweatshirt to give to Grant so that he wouldn't be cold.  Total proud moment in parenting.

That wonderful proud moment in parenting was NOT burst when my darling four year old son started skipping and jumping down the aisles of the store sporting a pink and purple striped sweatshirt and yelling, "I'm a BOY! I look like a girl, but I'm a BOY!" to everyone within earshot (and several who were not).

NOPE.  I DON"T claim him.

Head on over to MckMama's blog to see what everyone else had NOT been up to this week!