Did That Just Happen?

Tonight The Hubs and I were eating dinner and the boys were sitting with us.

They'd already finished eating and were drinking their milk.

Goose finished his cup of milk and said, "Mo' miwt, mama!"

I started to get up, changed my mind, and said, "No, baby, you've already had two cups of milk. That is enough for tonight."

I am not interested in having a constipated baby.

And I also know that more milk means he will have peed all the way through a nighttime diaper & have completely soaked pajamas by the wee hours of the morning.

So, no, you aren't getting more milk.

As soon as I say no, Tink starts barking at me about being mean because I'm 

not giving Goose more milk and he thinks I should give it to him.

I cut him off with a sharp:

UMMM, EXCUSE ME! 

A) I am not mean, and 

B) You do not tell me what to do. I am the grown-up & I make the decisions.

Tink just stared at me for a second.

Then he says this:

E) Goose nee' mo miwk.

R) You not tay no. You not ba-wee nice.

M) I hab 5 miwks.

*Translation: 

A) Goose needs more milk. 

B) You can't say no. You aren't very nice. 

C) I had five milks.

I had to look away.

I knew if I continued to watch Tink as he talked a bunch of nonsense 

in alphabet-list form, I would lose it.

Especially since his list was labeled with "E," "R," and "M."

I looked over at The Hubs and he was grinning.

I stared at him (still not looking at Tink for fear I'd bust out laughing), biting my cheek.

"Yeah," he says. 

Evidently, he didn't know what to say.

"Did that really just happen?!" I asked him.

"Yes, yes it did."

I didn't know what else to say either.

My four year-old just punked me.

And after he did so, he sat there looking at me like this:

For the record, Tink did not have five milks.  

And, despite the his brother's eloquent argument, I didn't give Goose more milk.

After hearing Tink put his side of the disagreement together so quickly, 

I may consider putting him on a debate team.

But I think I'll let him learn his alphabet first...

Ever Feel Like You've Had A Moment Of Genius?

I had to take the mini in yesterday to have some body work done 

because someone hit it not too long ago.

Since I am carless, my parents let us borrow their pick-up truck.  

While I am very grateful for the loaner vehicle, it is not a car which can accommodate 

car seats, so it makes things a bit difficult.  

We figured it would work best for The Hubs to drive the truck while I use our other car (a four door sedan) to tote the boys around.  

I headed out to the car with the boys this morning and was quickly reminded of why I never drive The Hubs' car.

During soccer season, because he is so busy, he practically lives out of his car.

This means it is absolutely disgusting, abhorrent, nausea-inducing, 

repugnant, filthy, kinda messy.

After cleaning the random stuff out of the car, I realized I needed professional help.

I called my father-in-law to see if his cousin (he details cars) 

could squeeze our car into his schedule.  

Lucky for me, he was free to do it today and came to pick the car up at our house.

I decided I would clean out the car seats (which were just as gross) 

while the car was being detailed.  

So, I dragged them out of the car (with the boys still strapped into them because that was the best way I could figure to keep the monsters contained. I should have gotten a picture, but I didn't think about it.  They looked pretty funny strapped into seats in the middle of my driveway.) and into the living room.  

I vacuumed the seats out and made some adjustments to the straps.

I had the boys sit in them so I could be sure the straps were placed correctly.

This is when I had my uber brilliant idea:

Do NOT take the boys back out of their seats.

I mean, if they are content to be strapped into the chairs in the 

middle of the living room, why question it? 

 If they think it is funny to be in carseats that aren't in the car, who would 

I be to tell them they are wrong?

Let them enjoy the "fun" as long as they want to, right?

When was the last time I've talked about Goose being as calm and quiet as he is here?

And how often do I talk about Tink being silent and still?

Uh... the answer is never.

Seriously.  Look at these two:

Want to know what I've learned today?

1.  You should find your silver lining in every situation.  The car deal could have just been a pain in the rear, but a half an hour of quiet time gleaned indirectly from the mini needing repairs is DEFINITELY a silver lining.  

2.  Don't mess with a good thing.  Your kids are perfectly content being strapped into their carseats in the middle of the living room floor? Fine, leave them there.  Why unleash them when you know it means they will begin wreaking havoc again?  

3.  The Hubs owes me big time for having his disaster of a car cleaned up (partly by me, but mostly by a professional).  I will tell him as much and expect payment in the form of back rubs.  Like, for real back rubs.  Not 30 second back rubs that are actually 

precursors for his real intentions...

4.  My kids are cute.  Feel free to check out those pictures again if you have 

any doubts about this statement.

5.  My vacuum needs to be cleaned out.  I totally cropped it out of the above pictures because I thought it would gross you guys out to see the contents of the canister.  I know that is besides the point of the rest of this story, but it was something I learned today...

Our Relationship As I've Known It Is Over

Today, my heart was broken.

I knew it couldn't last forever, but I wasn't ready for this to happen so soon.

I was left for another woman...

and she is only four...

and I cried...

in the middle of the Pre-k classroom...

and Tink's teacher rubbed by shoulder, asking if I was ok...

and I continued to cry...

as I watched my son walk away...

holding hands with this "other woman."

I am pretty sure my face looked something like this:

Here is how drop-off usually goes with Tink: 

He races into his classroom.

He checks in by moving his name on the students' sign-in board.

I head over to write him in on the parents' sign-in sheet.

He races over to where I am, smothers me with hugs and kisses, and hangs on to me with a huge grin until I manage to pry him off and walk out the door.  

He is never upset when I leave, but he likes to drag out drop-off with lots of lovin'.

Here is how it went today:

Tink raced into his classroom.

He checked in by moving his name on the students' sign-in board.

I wrote him in on the parents' sign-in sheet.

He raced over to me and, as I started to bend over to give him 

hugs, he heard "Hester" call his name.

He promptly turned around and started to walk away... straight to Hester.

Um... EXCUSE ME!

Hey, sir.  Did you forget something?

Yes, you did.

Your mother. 

You forgot me.

So, naturally, I said, "Tink! Get back over here! I need hugs and kisses."

Know what the reaction was to that?

A snort.  

He snorted at me.

He walked back over, kind of haphazardly threw an arm 

around one of my legs, kissed my elbow, and started to head over to Hester.

And now, on the inside, I was doing this:

It was like he didn't want to be bothered by his mama 

because he needed to tend to Hester.

Well, that was not going to work for me.

So, I did exactly what I think any mother would do.

I made him come back.

"Hey, dude. A kiss on my elbow doesn't work for me.  I need real kisses."

This time, I got a brief brush on the lips, no hug, and no goodbye.

I hear Hester say, "Come on, Tink.  Lets go this way."

He walks over to her, she says, "Hold my hand," and he does.

I stand there, heartbroken and dumbfounded, watching my four year-old walk away, holding the hand of another woman.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!

WHEN DID I BECOME SECOND IN LINE TO THE BLOND IN PRE-K?!

Tink's teacher, Nancy, and the student teacher from the preschool room stood there and watched them go, hand in hand.  

They both gave me a kind of sad, pity-filled smile.

They knew I'd just lost the battle.

Nancy reached over, started rubbing my should, and asked if I was ok.

I said, "I just got ditched for some other girl."

And my eyes filled with tears.  

I started muttering things along the lines of "I can't believe that just happened" and "When did he get so big?" and "Doesn't he know I come first?"

I'm pretty sure both teachers think I am a sorry case.

I doubt, however, this is the first time they've seen it.

I turned and walked out of the classroom. 

I would have tried to say goodbye to Tink again before I went, 

but he was out of view and long gone with Hester.

I stood in the lobby and retold my story.

Another mom was on her way out at the same time.

Bless her heart, she took my hand and held it all the way out to our cars.

She said, "You have to remind him that you are number one! You will always be number one!  Tell him to make sure he remembers that!"

 She, too, has a son. 

I'm willing to bet you could've guessed that.

I'm sure she was pumping herself up for the "I'm Number One" argument she will undoubtably face as much as she was pumping me up for it.

I said the only thing I was thinking at that point: 

"I birthed him through my vagina! I AM NUMBER ONE!"

Yes, I said it.

And, yes, I said it in the middle of the street...

on a busy campus...

in front of multiple college students.

I don't care.  It is truth.

Plus, what is the hardest thing they've dealt with today?

I'm sure it is not the trauma of watching your baby become a 

man and losing him to some other female.

I took some time, went to breakfast, and thought about what happened.

After much thought, I did what any sane mother would do...

I returned to Pre-k to assert my presence as his Number One girl.

(I had some things to drop off at the school anyway.  I haven't completely lost my mind.  The sole purpose of my visit was not to defend my rightful place... Ahem.)

I walked into Pre-k and looked for Tink.

I just wanted to say "hey" since I was there anyway, you know?

I was all breezy-like, a la Monica from "Friends."

Can you guess what he was doing?

Yep, he was in the middle of an activity with Hester.

Whatever.

So, I went over and sat with them for a bit.  

I talked to Tink and Hester about what they were doing, watched them squish some dough around (they were doing some sort of cooking activity), and hung out for a few minutes.

I told Tink I was going to go, that I'd just stopped in so I could see him, and he said, "ok." 

I told him I wanted a kiss and he immediately turned his head up and puckered his lips.

That's my boy!

On my way out, I even got an "I yuh you, Mommy!"

That is Tink-speak for "I love you."

So, now I am feeling much more like this:

And kind of like I should yell, "Victory is mine!" while raising my arms up like this:

I will make it through this.

I will force Tink to give me love and snuggles this evening 

since he tried to be stingy with those things this morning.

I will try to come to terms with the idea that he can't be my baby forever.

That part may just take some time.

Oh, and I will try not to cry in his Pre-k classroom anymore.

I'm not making any promises, though...

In case any of you are wondering, Hester really is a sweet girl.  I've had the opportunity to hang out with her since I've worked in Tink's classroom.

She is as cute as can be and is really smart. 

At least I know he has good taste in women. 

Guess that'll be my silver lining.

That said, giving her the pseudonym "Hester" was no accident. ;)

All pictures are Google stock images

Let It All Hang Out!

Tonight, it was just me and Goose hanging at the house.

I needed to go potty so I left him sitting in the chair in the

 living room watching The Fresh Beat Band.  

Miraculously, he stayed.  

If you aren't sure why I'm calling it a "miraculous" act, check this out.

Anyway, I went potty and came back to the living room.  

I started to pick Goose up and put him back on my lap.

We'd been sitting together in the chair, reading books, for close to half an hour.  

If I didn't have to potty so badly, I wouldn't have moved.  

I didn't want to give up the snuggles, especially since my baby just turned two and I recently sobbed and snotted through, had an emotional break because of read this blog. 

However, before I could pick him up, he looked at me and laughed.

I had no idea what he was laughing about.

But, then he said, "Duuuuhn...' in a sing-songy voice.

Although I still had no clue as to why he was laughing, 

at least I knew the subject matter.

I pulled the blanket off of him, looked down, and realized he had reached under his onesie, unfastened his diaper, and pulled his "duuuuhn" out.

I was looking at baby junk.

Seriously, Goose?!?!

I started to say, "Sir, we need to leave our junk in our diaper," but, before I could get any of that out, he slipped out of the chair, around my legs, and took off down the hallway screaming, "DUUUUHN! My DUUUUHN Mama!"

I ran after him (Remember... He is NOT potty trained), 

and yelled "Put your junk away, Goose!"

His response?

"No, Mama! Nakey Baby!"

It took some effort to catch him.

It took even more effort to get him (and his junk) contained in a new diaper & jammies.

He... Never... Stopped... Laughing...

Nor did he cease with screaming, "Nakey Baby!"

All I could think about is how much I hope I am NOT getting 

a glimpse of my future with this child.  

I pray he finds ways to amuse himself that do not include giving 

unsuspecting patsies a peek at his man-parts.

I also pray that there will be a day I am no longer required to have conversations 

about all of the things we DON'T do with our junk.

If that seems like weird things to pray for, you are not the mother of little boys.

In the meantime, since I know that proper "junk etiquette" is not a part of the near future, I'm just going to keep my fingers crossed that he won't pee on my couch.

Here is to hoping the rest of the evening remains junk-free.