Random Tuesday Thoughts

After a call with my mom where she repeated everything multiple times and was confused about many things, this was the conversation I had with Bug:

Me: Bug, when Mommy and Daddy are older, will you take care of us?

Bug: (staring intently into my eyes) But you're old already, right?

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Last week Bug grabbed his crotch and when I asked for the 18th time "Do you need to go potty?" He replied with "No, I'm just tickling myself."

Go to The Un Mom for more.

Hept-a-collar

This weekend I was going through some things in Bug’s room and noticed that his changing pad was still on the top of his dresser. We bought the dresser/changing table combination thinking his room is small enough that we didn’t want a dresser AND a changing table squeezed in there. It’s worked out well but somehow I was so accustomed to seeing the changing pad with the recently added Spiderman stickers that it hadn’t occurred to me that WE DON’T NEED IT ANYMORE! Don't ask how I couldn't have figured this out earlier...

I removed the changing pad (the straps were screwed into the dresser and rather than deal with those pesky screws, I just grabbed the scissors and cut the straps--hey, it's on the back no one will see it...right?), tidied up the top of the dresser and added a few things to make it look like it belonged in a little boy's room and not a nursery.

Then I took a step back--in the room and in time--and thought about some of the memories in that little room. I realized that our little baby boy somehow became three years old faster than fast and in a few months he’ll no longer hold up his thumb and two fingers when asked "how old are you?" but he'll show four fingers. I’m going to miss many things about these days and there are a few things that I'll happily say good-bye to and look forward to what’s ahead.

Right now, I like the little boy in him that can't say helicopter correctly because "hept-a-collar" sounds perfect to my ears.

Hey, there's no beach here

We’re back from vacation. Sigh… The trip was good and we learned that Bug can go nonstop…not just the typical three-year-old gottabemovingallthetime energy but his mouth as well. He can talk ALL day. The chatter is more apparent in the car or maybe it’s just harder to tune out in that closed environment.

A few comments on the trip:

Donnie and I got away for an overnight when my in-laws offered to watch Bug. Funny how quickly we could get out the door when that offer was made!

Beach time.

Bug took swimming lessons in the ocean. He seemed to be less interested in the water after the lessons. What did he learn? Every so often he’ll put his hands together over his head and say “I’m a rocket.” (Well worth the money, don't you think?) Best part for him…he got to wear goggles while in the water and got a lifesaver after the lesson. He thought they were tiny Oreos obviously, the boy needs to be introduced to more candy.

Great seafood dinners but spaced out enough that I have a hive-free body.

Great steak dinners.

Two trips for cantaloupe ice cream and a pint in the freezer at the house.

Wine, wine, wine…

(Umm, too many food references here, maybe?)

Reading time never enough but always grateful for what I can sneak in.

A Cape Cod Baseball League game.

Dancing with Bug in the dining room to the new Bruce DVD before dinner.

Uneventful drives to and from the Cape with extra stops each way when Bug announced he had to use the potty. Now if we can just get him to stop taking off his shoes when he pees...

Out of the mouths of babes Bug

This weekend Bug said to me in that sweet three-year-old voice:

"Mommy, you're in the middle of my heart."


It almost makes up for the 289 occasions he was in time out on Saturday and Sunday. Sigh...

Wrestle Mania

I swear there’s a point repeated over and over and over again in every three-year-old’s life when he/she increases in strength to an Olympic level. For Bug it happened again this morning.


He didn’t want to get dressed and it became a wrestling match to get the job done. I half expected to hear a play-by-play in the background by a cheesy ring announcer. While there were no pile-drivers or chairs tossed around, I did chase him from one room to another and deflect some kicks. It was neither sport nor entertainment.


After a few time outs, letting Bug pick out the perfect pull-up (sigh...) and select his clothes (it’s an outfit that screams, “My son dressed himself and looks like a leprechaun") and a change of shirts for me wrestling makes a girl sweaty and a quick (second) wash of the morning for me, my three-year-old was dressed...and I was ready to start the day.


And then Bug told me he didn't like my shoes...that hurt.

the glass was half-full

Over the weekend we took Bug to Truck Touch, an event sponsored by a nursery school. It was about 30 minutes away or more than an hour if the directions aren’t clear.

Anyway, the little man was in heaven. We told him he would see trucks and when we walked to the parking lot his eyes got wide as he took in a wide range of vehicles from police cars to semis. (My personal favorite on a hot spring day was the refrigerated semi…there were plenty of parents begging encouraging their kids to go inside and play just to feel the chill.)

It was a nice time. Bug sat in many vehicles, honked horns, spoke on a loud speaker, got a tattoo, carried a RED balloon (apparently red is key) and had lunch. When it was time to go he was a little sad but the police car was our last stop and he had fun turning on the lights and siren.

We got to the car and Bug wailed: “I didn’t get to go on the bulldozer.” This was the conversation:

Me: Oh, I’m not sure you could get on the bulldozer. I didn’t see any other children on it. Side note: Technically this was true I hadn’t seen anyone on the bulldozer of course it was out of the way and I hadn’t looked.
Bug: I want to go on the bulldozer.
Donnie: You didn’t get on the bulldozer but you did get to see lots of other great things. Let’s talk about all the things you DID get to do…
Bug: Okay!
Donnie: You were on the police car, boat, school bus, semi, mini cooper, motorcycle, dump truck, (the list continued). Wasn’t it fun?
Bug: Yes…now let’s talk about the things I DIDN’T get to do.

And with that both the glass and I were drained.

Terrible Twos into Testing Threes = Mixed-Up Mommy

Enter the Be Darling giveaway here.


When Bug was about 18 months old I thought the terrible twos kicked in. Some moms told me the twos are easy compared to the threes...it's just that no one talks about that.

Here we are snugly in the world of three and I now fully understand what those moms meant. Two had is moments but three seems to have its days and nights. Bug knows more words so I expected communication might be easier but so far that's not the case. Silly me I thought there would be a little bit of reasoning too. (I can hear you laughing...) He also communicates by hitting (luckily, at this point the biting seems to have halted).

Bug can't spend a whole day in time out. Well, actually, he could for the number of times he doesn't listen but that's not effective. It seems Bug has become his very own little version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I don't recall the details of the story so I don't remember if Jekyll had warning when Hyde would appear. In our play, which is showing daily nonstop, Mr. Hyde shows up at any time without warning. It might be worth a ticket if any of you miss these days or want to see a meltdown--mine or Bug's--it's often a surprise.

Here's a for instance...we went to the Natural History Museum over the weekend so Bug could see the dinosaurs. We didn't expect to be there long--just long enough for Bug to see a few things, feel like it was an adventure and leave. He had fun...remembered Curious George and Caillou go to the 'zeum, too, and thought it was great. Without prompting, he said hello to several security guards and told them to have a nice day.


As we were leaving, he lost it. Why? Not because he didn't want to go outside and see the snow that was coming down but because we left through the doors marked "EXIT" and not the same doors that we used to enter the museum. (Have I mentioned Bug likes order? He came in THOSE doors so he wants to leave through THOSE doors. That wasn't possible in this case because there are metal detectors and the security guards directed us to the other doors--you know, the ones marked EXIT.)

He screamed on the walk back to the car, which seemed much longer than only a block with the high-pitched vocals (side note: terrific parking spot on a Saturday in downtown DC! Woo hoo!). Many parents gave me smiles hiding their thoughts of "thank God it's not my kid this time."

I know people (parents and children) survive the threes. I've gone to Hallmark stores and seen the cards that say, "Touchdown, Home Run, Score...happy birthday, you're FOUR" and I've seen plenty of four-year-old kids and even older kids and realize they all were three once.

A week or so ago I have proof that Bug listened to something I said. I was in the kitchen and heard Donnie enter the TV room after Bug had confiscated the remote and screwed up the TV. Donnie said, "Dammit." Bug's response in his most serious tone, "Don't say dammit, Daddy. Mommy says that's not nice." A short-lived victory for the etiquette patrol.

Tell me about the days that are to come. You know...the ones about the fantastic fours, fabulous fives, super sixes, sensational sevens, etc. Just don't talk to me about the teen years. I can't think about those yet.

fits to a tee