Toddler reality.

I've noticed a widespread derision of the childrens show Caillou among most of the parents I know. I've just gotta say, I don't really understand it.

It's realistic guys. It's a toddlers very own reality show. It's so true to life that when it's playing in my house I can't even distinguish between my own kids and fake cartoon ones.

The only thing that's not realistic about Caillou are the parents. Because I sure as shit am not that patient when my kids turn on the whine. No, no no no. No.

My kids spend a lot of time in time out. I spend a lot of time saying the following phrases:

"Mommy doesn't listen to whining. You need to use your real voice."

"Nicky, use your real voice or you can go to time out."

"Josh, use your real voice (or stop hitting your brother/don't say 'stupid'/don't bite your dad) or you can go to time out."

"THAT'S ENOUGH, TIME OUT NOW."

Lately the only thing that works is the threat of Chippy telling Santa that they're being bad. And that only works on Nicky, not Josh.

-->Tangent. My kids are uber unoriginal. When we got our Elf On The Shelf, Nicky promptly named him Elf. After some coaxing to come up with something more...well, interesting, he came up with Chippy. Because that's the name of the elf from the cartoon so DUH of course that's his name. Liam was the same way. Years ago when we got a cat he was named-wait for it...Cat. We eventually settled on Jojo-Cat. Yawn.

Anyway, point is I yell a lot. And Caillou's parents don't. So that part doesn't ring true to me. But the whiny, annoying, snot-nosed kid part? I can relate.

Livin the dream, I tell ya.

The reason I'll always be chubby.

My love affair with chips has spanned decades. They are my weakness. It's pathetic, really.

You know how when you're eating a bag of chips and somebody asks for one right? And how you grab a chip and give it to that person. Right? Everyone doles out their chips don't they? No? Well I guess I can admit I'm a bit territorial about them. It always made me cringe when people would plunge their hands into my chip bag and come up with a big handful.

This behavior got me teased mercilessly by my friends in high school. I took it like a champ though.

Nowadays, my kids have all inherited my love of savory snacks. And I still have to battle the urge to smack their hands away when they're trying to 'share'. In reality, they don't get to eat chips very often. And that's only because I wait till they're out of the room, quickly fill a bowl with some chips, and then put the bowl in the sink so they can't see it and stand at the counter like I'm really busy cleaning and inhale them. Fools them every time.

Except I can't breathe near them till after I've brushed my teeth. They can smell them on my breath. In fact, Josh can detect the smell from about 4 feet away. And then it's all 'cheeps, cheeps, cheeeeeps mummy'.

Liam is old enough to buy his own chips now. And like I was in junior high, he doesn't like to share either. Keeps an eagle eye on me when I grab some from his bag. Gives me the stink eye when he thinks I've taken too many. Hell, half the time he refuses to share.

And as much as I understand, I still want to punch him in the face for being so greedy.

I know.

Don't even get me started on flavors and dips. Because this post could go on forever. Suffice it to say, I will eat any, and I mean ANY, flavor of chips. And I would kiss the feet of anybody who could find me some Helluva Good Buttermilk Ranch dip.

Other people get this obsessive about snacks right? I cannot be alone.

Tubthumping

It happened as I was stripping the bed after an unfortunate naptime accident. And it was so appropriate that I was unsure of whether to laugh or sit down and cry. I settled for rolling my eyes, humming along, and getting down to business.

Yep, that 90's tune that meant SO MUCH MORE 15ish years ago has now become my life's theme song.

Between the rare-but-still-happening-occasionally accidents with Nicky and Josh's insistence on 'unnerware' (though to date he has peed in the potty 4 times) I have been a non-stop pee cleaning machine. Our spot cleaner has never been used on such a continuous basis before and I don't even bother emptying the cleaning solution anymore. I'll just be refilling it within 12-24 hours.

My kids smell like pee, my house smells like pee, I'm pretty sure I smell like pee. This is so much fun!

Pissing the night away...

It's potty time.

Over the past few months I've gotten all pissy a couple times about the wild one's propensity for diaper ripping. And then publicly declared that it was potty training time. Only to give it up after 3 hours as a lost cause.

Well it's happening again. I'm publicly declaring that it's 'that time again folks'. But this time I plan on being a tad bit smarter than previous attempts. After sitting him down on the potty, him doing nothing, and then making water in his drawers 5 minutes after I put them on him, I had a brilliant flash of inspiration.

Instead of setting the timer in order to sit him down every 15 minutes, I'm setting it to see how long he can go between peeing and then trying to determine if there's any sort of pattern. Then tomorrow when we start for real, I should hopefully have some sort of game plan instead of making him sit down and hang out on the potty against his will.

The whole being bored sitting on the potty was a major source of frustration when I was training Nicky. I'm trying to avoid that this time around. And I figure if I give it a good effort for a week and it's not getting through to him then he's not ready.

But he ripped his diaper off and ran into his bedroom and took a shit on his dresser this morning. I wouldn't say I wasn't paying attention but I'm so used to Nicky tattling that I didn't catch it in time. It was "scusting". And I'm very much over it.

Only thing I'm worried about, besides the mountains of laundry this will result in? That Jeff will get impatient with this new method and just slap a diaper on him since it's easier. And that concern is not unfounded since he did the same thing with Nicky. But I'm sure that won't happen since I'm calling him out on it here right?

How does that song go? You may say I'm a dreamer....

School is cool.

A month in to this pre-school thing and I'm prepared to eat my previous opinions on the whole 'pushing kids so fast' thing. I've been the mom helper twice now and it's nothing like how I thought it would be.

They do nothing but play and make crafts and run around and have snack. There's no formal teaching. And I like that. I'm not a mompetitor *snicker*. I figure if he's not doing advanced calculus by kindergarten then I might have to step in. Right now we're cool with numbers and colors and shapes.

One thing though, and this was completely out of the blue. Pre-school has turned my formerly independant and full-of-energy kid into a major lazybones.

Months upon months ago, we got rid of the double stroller. Nicky hated being confined and was mature enough to handle walking next to the stroller without running off and getting killed by a moving vehicle. So now we have a regular 'ol Graco for Josh and it's been so nice to not push around a monstrosity.

Except now Mr. Lazybones has claimed the basket for his own. Which, okay he fits down there. And he's not a heifer so he's not breaking it. But damn. Now I look like some kind of welfare mom who couldn't afford to spring for a double stroller for her two closely-spaced kids with different baby-daddies.

Don't believe me? One of the moms at school stopped me one day and offered me her used double stroller that she has no need of anymore. I sputtered some nonsense about having one and getting rid of it-I probably didn't make any sense. I was a little mortified. I'm pretty sure I flashed my wedding ring so that she would know I was a respectable woman.

So all in all, this pre-school has been a positive experience. My own insecurities aside of course. And the 3 hour break twice a week? Priceless. It's given me a taste of what life will be like in 2 years when he starts kindergarten and Josh is in pre-school too. I find myself very much looking forward to it.

Brothers

It's interesting to watch my children interact with each other. I swear, I could sit and watch them for hours and marvel over how their personalities are emerging.

Except for when Liam is pinning Nicky down and that god-awful screech starts. When that happens I do not marvel. I get pissy.

When Nicky was born, Liam was over the moon excited to have a brother. It was awesome for the first few months when Liam could love on him and Nicky didn't really have much choice in the matter. Babies, after all, are pretty helpless.

After a while Liam figured out that it's also fun to bug brothers. So that started. And so it went like this: Liam would bug Nicky. Five minutes later Liam would want to cuddle him. Nicky, remembering the torture that went on just prior, would protest. Loudly.

As it stands right now, they bug each other, and yell at each other, and every six months you'll find them cuddled up and watching a t.v. show.

Liam tried the same games with Josh but he quickly figured out that the torture doesn't bother Josh as much as it did Nicky. As a result, things are much more friendly between those two. That's NOT to say he doesn't pick on Josh too, it's just that he doesn't get the same reaction so he doesn't do it as often.

And how are things between the two youngest, you might ask?

Nicky would throw Josh under the bus in a New York minute. It's actually the cutest thing to watch, but it's also totally selective. Typical scenario:

They're both in bed and we hear somebody running around the room, turning on lights, pulling out dresser drawers and emptying them, turning up the radio volume. In goes Daddy to give 'em shit and Josh has a huge smile on his face and is nodding his head as Jeff scolds him.

Here's Nicky. "I'm being a good boy daddy. I didn't get out of my bed. Josh is being a bad boy daddy, give him trouble. He needs a spank".

Repeat as necessary for any number of situations. It happens 15 times a day. And I'm pretty sure Josh is not the only one doing naughty things. He just doesn't talk as well as Nicky does yet.

Like I said, it's very interesting to watch their personalities in regards to each other develop. Liam's the bully, Nicky's the brown-noser, and Josh is the scapegoat.

Hm, maybe next time I should write a post highlighting their more endearing qualities? They do have them, I swear.

Holy stinky feet, batman.

Liam has this friend. They hang out every day, so you could probably say they're best friends. Mention that to either one of them though and you'll get a 'look' and they'd say they're just friends.

God, 12 year olds are so weird.

But about this friend. Over this summer puberty has hit him (and Liam) with a vengeance. And along with all those lovely puberty 'things' has come overactive sweat glands. He's got the personal hygiene thing down, but he forgot one little thing.

He can't wear his runners without socks anymore.

I've noticed the stink a couple times in the past month. And I've ribbed him about it once or twice and he takes it with a grin. He knows. And he's taken to wearing socks now.

But DAMN. I think his runners are ruined because he slept over last night and it's all I could smell.

Without hesitation, I filled a bowl up with warm water and grabbed some soap and took it downstairs to him. And he was sheepish about it and I TRIED not to embarass him. But I did explain to him that it was probably his shoes that were making his feet smell like Doritos.

I was pretty close to throwing his shoes outside too, but I restrained myself.

I'll betcha he'll be getting new shoes sometime in the near future. Y'know, with junior high starting tomorrow he's got to make a good first impression with the ladies. And stinky feet is NOT how any boy or man wants to be remembered.

To my Joshy.

This is gonna be quick and dirty, since I'm out of time this morning. Today is blog hop day and it's dedicated to my youngest monster.

Josh. You were 100% a suprise and at first not a happy one. Maybe that's not nice but it's true. Your brother was only 8 months old when we found out about you and I really couldn't see past the scariness of having two kids only 16 months apart.

Then the excitement came, along with the knowledge that things always work out. I started hoping for my long-awaited girl. The ultrasound tech even gave me hope but in the end she couldn't get a good enough shot of your goods to tell me for sure.

I didn't find out you were a boy until you were born and for a split second my heart dropped. Again, not nice but it's the truth. And then came the love. I know boys. I knew I had this one in the bag.

And you would have made a horrible girl. You are a little boy through and through. I couldn't imagine you any other way, with your weekly fat lips, constant scrapes on your knees, and crazy yell.

I'm proud to tell people I'm a mother to all boys. It feels like I'm in a special club. When I think about you and your brothers I just can't imagine any other dynamic for our little family. You guys are rough and tumble and just love each other so much.

So Josh, thank you for being the best suprise and thank you for being you.

**blog hop ladies, I'm out of time for tagging so leave your link either in the comments here or on my facebook page. Lets get some traffic going!

Back from hiatus.

It's official, my last baby is not a baby anymore. I'm not at all sad about this.

In fact, I can't wait until he's a little bit older and calms the eff down already. Although...if we're being completely honest I think that is more to do with his personality and not so much to do with his age. This youngest one is a bit of a party animal. And he's wild. SO WILD.

It's been about a week and a half that he's completely weaned off the boob. Okay, so he'd been down to only in the morning for the past couple months but still. It's nice to be done for good.

One more thing that pushes Josh from baby straight into toddler with no chance of looking back? He's regularily climbing out of his crib. And not even the climbing up to the top and then falling down to the floor version, he scales that thing like a monkey.

Looks like we'll be dusting off the trusty toddler bed this weekend. That $150 purchase 10 years ago has surely been put to good use. Even though it's ugly as hell. But there's no way I could bring up the idea of buying another bed. Because numerous people would agree that I probably have a bit of a problem buying childrens beds.

Liam is 12 and he's had...6? Ya, I think 6 different beds, including his crib and toddler bed.

But now that we've brought up the subject, how cute would matching beds and blankets look in there? I'm thinking IKEA (of course) Malm beds, in a light color to match their dresser. With a bookcase between them...

I should probably go back to cleaning the house now. Best not to keep going down that path.

T-five hours!

Today is the day I'm finally doing something I have been talking about for years and years. I'm chopping the hair off.

Little nervous. Mostly excited.

I showed Jeff the picture I sent to my hairdresser (the talented Monica of Dare Your Hair) and here's what I got:

'You're going blond too? How about red...or black, black would be hot. Like your hair at Halloween...' (and on and on and rawr and blah blah blah).

It's going chocolate brown honey, sorry.

I was describing the cut to Liam, and in typical 12 year old boy fashion, this is what I got from him:

'You're going to look like a boy. I'm not sure that'll be a good look for you.'

Thanks for the honesty kid. How about this. You look like Justin Beiber. Snap.

Stay tuned for the big reveal. I'm hoping I don't look like a big huge idiot that made an unfortunate hair choice.

My time is now precious.

I never realised how much of a cut my time would take, what with me having a part time job and all.

I haven't stepped foot inside of a gym in two weeks and my waistline is SO PROTESTING. One could say that to compensate I should cut my caloric intake. That would be smart. I am apparently not that smart.


Also, my kids are having a hard time with me leaving them a couple days a week to go to work. As I'm writing this, I've come to the realization that their recent whining is a direct result of this. They're used to having my undivided attention every moment of the day and it's taking some getting used to.

That said...I'll be making more of an effort to figure out how to get to the gym at least 3 times a week. Perhaps a bike is needed so that I can get there quickly during the day while at least Josh is sleeping . This is where Liam makes the big bucks with babysitting.

And the kids being whiney little a-holes? That's where me getting down on their level more often will come into play. They just miss their mommy, and maybe now that I understand this it will translate into me being more patient with them. They're just almost 2 and 3 after all. And they need this opportunity to become more independant of me.

I don't think we need to contemplate whether the 12 year old misses me. Especially at this moment when he's restricted to the house after a less than stellar 3rd term report card. Oh the joys of parenthood.

Honestly though, some days it's a joy to walk out the door. I probably need this just as much as they do. Ahhhhh.

Bad things happen in 3's...X 2.

So, my day yesterday? It pretty much takes the cake on a scale of suckiness.

First thing, Josh-the-diaper-ripper took a pee on the rug in his room. Sadly, this isn't a one time deal. He's obsessed with his weiner and loves to be free.

Then Nicky got a hold of the counter cleaner and sprayed it in his face. That was after he ate half the sugar/cinnamon mix that I keep for sandwiches etc. The rest of it went all over the counter and floor. I'm pretty sure he won't be messing with the cleaner again after I bent him backward over the tub and poured a jug of cold water over his head. Kids gotta learn somehow right?

To finish off the trifecta of awesomeness, Josh got the bottle of maple syrup out of the fridge and oh so quietly emptied most of it onto the kitchen floor. In multiple areas. And then walked through it and all over the house before I noticed. I'm pretty sure he rolled in it a bit too, just as a 'fuck you' to his mom. Pardon the language.

This was all before 9 am.

I was able to keep my cool, clean up the messes, and generally be chill for the remainder of the day. Don't get me wrong, I still wanted to run screaming out of the house (locking them inside for safety's sake of course), but I managed to persevere. And then 4:30 hit.

At 4:30 a couple things happened all at once. Actually it was 3 main things, which makes me think that those people that say bad things happen in 3's do know what the hell they're talking about.

You know how when you're trying to make dinner that's the time when the kids decide to get all whiney and clingy and just generally annoying? They were both hanging off each of my legs and hitting each other and arguing.

Then Liam calls from his friends house to tell me that there's "some thing" at his new Junior High that he has to go to at 6:30 but it's okay because he can go with his friend and the friends dad. And oh ya, he had a sheet about it but it was lost and "oh my God why is it a big deal".

Um, kid. Maybe it's a big deal because I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THIS SHIT. What if fees needed to be paid? What if there was information that couldn't be trusted to a 12 year old to be relayed? What if I just want to be there because you're my first born who's going into Junior High and it's a milestone?

So while my feelings are all hurt over THAT crap, I go downstairs to grab some veggies for the stir fry only to find that my storage room has flooded. Cue the swearing and slamming of doors and ohmygod everybody should be glad they were not around me at that exact moment. My poor sister was on the phone with me but she's all ragey too so she wasn't fazed one bit.

What have I learned from my crap day yesterday? Tears really ARE the best manipulator on the planet. Tears over the phone to Jeff made him pack his shit up and come home right away, stopping at Costco to pick up a new shop vac. Tears made Liam feel like crap for being insensitive and he one arm hugged me and told me he hoped the rest of my day went better as he was on his way out to his 'some thing' at the school. And tears made the 2 little ones cuddle up in my lap and be calm.

I don't pull them out often. Jeff could probably count on one hand the times he's seen me cry in our years together. But DAMN will I allow them to come if I ever have another day like yesterday.

*right now my child-free-by-choice friends are patting themselves on the back for having made such a smart decision. Touche, my friends ;)

Buzzed.

Sometimes things don't work out quite how they're intended. That's what happened to me yesterday.

Now, I don't claim to have any talent as a hairdresser at ALL. That doesn't stop me from being a cheap bastard and cutting my kids hair myself. Technically that wasn't my intention when I pulled out the scissors yesterday. We were actually planning on taking them to a real-life hairdresser and getting them each a cut from a professional. For real. I'm NOT just saying that after the fact.

But I got so tired of the bangs in their eyes so I decided to just trim a tiny little bit off the bangs and at the nape just to hold over until we made it to the mall. Our weekends have been so busy lately that we haven't made it and the thought of taking them both by myself...well let's say that pretty much anything else would be preferable.

Josh sat there fine while I trimmed. He looked a little goofy but I figured it would be a week tops till we got it fixed so meh, whatever. Then it was Nickys turn. I'm going along, he's twisting around, and then it happened. His bangs were cut to about an inch long. GOOBER. See below.

My cousin was over having coffee and she was laughing her ass off the whole time. She even tried to tell me he looked fine. SURE DEB.

It was time for the clippers and the rite of passage: the buzz cut. Best friend of cheap parents everywhere. Again, Josh sat happily still for the cut. Which suprised me because of the two I was sure he was the one I was going to be chasing around like a crazed clipper-killer.

Nicky was a totally different story. It took me an hour, a sucker, a chocolate pudding, some fruit snacks, and a daddy to finally get the job done. Screaming and crying as if I was torturing him. Pleading and begging and bargaining. A couple times I had him wedged between my thighs and managed a couple swipes up the back. Then Jeff got home and managed to sweet talk him into sitting still for the 60 seconds it took to complete the job.

Much praise ensued, and I gotta say they look pretty damn cute. They look even more alike now and last night when they were sleeping I almost didn't know which was which. This morning when I unleashed them on Jeff to wake him up, he asked me which one was poking his head up over the side of the bed.

Big news!

It's official. After three years of watcing soap operas, napping, and lounging around on my fat ass eating bon-bons, I am re-entering the work force.

Okay, even I couldn't keep a straight face writing that out. I haven't watched a soap opera since I was about 13, my ass, while not quite as trim as it was 10 years ago, is certainly not fat, and I prefer chips to candy or chocolate. I'll totally cop to the napping.

I've been throwing around the idea of getting a part time job for a while now. And since I'm nothing if not dedicated to procrastination, it's taken me about a year and a half to get to the actual point of dropping off resumes. Which I did on Sunday. At the mall. Because retail is just what I'm looking for right now - easy.

Bright and early Monday I got a call from the store that I actually hoped to get an interview at. After scrambling trying to find someone to watch the hooligans (didn't happen) I set it up for Tuesday afternoon.

And I totally rocked the interview. I knew I did, and I knew I got the job. But, just as a parent may take perverse pleasure in embarassing her children, potential employers take satisfaction in waiting until the end of the next day before calling a person and telling them they got the job. I had given up hope and was thanking my lucky stars I hadn't written anything publicly on facebook so I didn't look like a loser that I didn't get a mall job. Because I am all weird like that.

But of course I got the job! I'm batting 6 for 7 here. I think that's the correct baseball terminology? I go in today to pick up the employment package and I'm guessing I'll start sometime next week. Time to start saving up for my trip in September, you know all those American stores will be calling my name!

Not to mention, the opportunity to interact with other humans besides Thing One and Thing Two. Who are total cutie pies, don't get me wrong. But they're exhausting and honestly a job at this point would be a vacation.

I Love You!

I don't do it very often anymore, but it really starts my day of great when I follow Liam onto the porch when he's leaving for school and call out in a really loud voice "I love you, have a great day at school!".

We came to an agreement a while ago that I am allowed to say say those things ONLY in the privacy of our own home. It's made our mornings infinitely more streamlined when I'm not dealing with a bitchy 12 year old because I've admitted to STRANGERS that I, *gasp*, love him and care about him.

Because, you know, our street is just full of random people at 8am standing around waiting to hear a mom tell her son she loves him on his way to school. And then they laugh at him because OH THE HORROR.

What with how prickly and anti-mom he is now, you'd never know that this kid held my hand at all times till he was 7 and insisted I carry him well into kindergarten. Seriously. So that's why when I follow him outside and call out to him, and then I get the bellow back that I'm not supposed to say those things outside (but secretly I can tell he's pleased...right?), it gives me a perverse sense of glee. It makes me happy to have that slight little one-up on him that maybe only another parent of a pre-teen can understand.

Another by product of this getting older business is his interest in girls. It's just exploded and I was expecting it but still it smacked me up the head just the same. Honestly, it was like one day he thought they were annoying and the next he was showering every morning and making me blowdry his Beiber hair. Girls calling him, facebook chatting with him, hanging out with him at the park. GAHHHH.

But thankfully and perhaps suprisingly for my kid, he's kept a pretty open dialogue with me on what is appropriate and what's not when it comes to 'dating'. As far as a 12 year old sixth-grader can 'date'. I know this honesty won't last forever, junior high is beckoning.

So while these teen years are going to be a pain in my ass, I can still take comfort in the ability to embarass the crap outta him. I've figured out the age old rant of teenagers everywhere, why our parents were so annoying.

I've totally got this.

Annoying and cute.

To set the stage: I'm sitting at the kitchen table trying to drink my coffee. Liam is still sleeping, the two youngest are running around the house yelling about going outside, and Jeff is getting his lunch ready for work. It's 7:05 am.

Now Nicky is climbing onto my lap, followed closely by Josh.

N: I'm two!
J: IIII twoooooo!
N: No, I'M two!
J: IIII twoooooo!
N: You're not two, I'M two!
J:...IIII twooooooo!
N: Joshua Michael Panchuk, I'MMM TWOOOO!
J: IIII twoooooo!

Mommy: No, Nicholas you are three, and Joshua you are one.
Daddy: (shoulders are shaking with laughter as he stands with his back to us at the counter preparing his breakfast of chocolate ice cream and cinnamon toast crunch)(not a word is uttered from his mouth)

N: Ya sure, I'm three!
J: IIII threeeeee!

Daddy: Have a great day honey!
Mommy: *facepalm*

Have I told you lately that I'm a procrastinator?

I have a confession to make. It's really gross and I can't even believe I'm admitting this on the interwebs. Seriously, in this case my housekeeping skills are FAR surpassed by my procrastination skills.

So. We've owned this house for 4 years and in that whole time I have never, not once, not ever, cleaned my oven. In fact, I couldn't even SPELL oven in that last sentence, that's how much I think about the oven and all things related to it besides cooking.

I use the oven all.the.time. Love that appliance, it's quite handy. Lately though, it's become apparent that I need to bite the bullet and clean it. I made a pizza last night and I had to open the window because it was getting super smoky. Disgusting, you don't even have to tell me.

Really, who does that? Who doesn't clean their oven at least once in 4 years? And I guarantee it wasn't clean when we bought the house. So who knows the last time it was cleaned? I clean the fridge regularily. And the microwave, in fact I just did that one on the weekend.

It's just that damn oven.

Well, to be honest and in the spirit of full disclosure...it's behind the oven too. And behind the fridge. And under the microwave stand and behind the water cooler. God, it's hard to properly clean your shit with toddlers underfoot.

That's my excuse and I'm 150% sticking to it.

I have no shame.

Something occurred to me the other day as I was getting back into my street clothes after swimming laps; I've turned into one of the those old ladies at the pool that I used to cringe at as a younger girl.

You know the ones. No shame, too unconcerned to squeeze into one of those tiny change rooms to shimmy around getting into dry clothing. Stretch marks, bit of a tummy, cellulite disfiguring the upper thighs and butt.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving a free show or anything. I try to be semi-modest with my towel if there are other people around. But if the change room is empty and you happen to stroll in, be prepared for a little nudity. I just don't care too much.

Those two poor 12 year olds. Give 'em 20 years, they'll be writing the same damn thing I am right now.

Randoms

1. I had a meltdown this morning when it comes to the damn potty training. I threw a diaper on Nicky and told him he made me very mad. He stared at me, then danced off and played with some Thomas trains.

Probably not the best way to handle it, but we'll be back to undies after nap time.

2. I'm looking forward to the next 6 days of reverting back to my messy bachelorette days while Jeff is out of town. I'm NOT looking forward to listening to the whining about 'where's daddy?'.

Okay, okay. I'll miss him too. We don't spend very many nights apart and he's like my 3rd arm, it'll feel weird not having him here too.

3. In a totally unexpected turn of events, JEFF signed up for a monthly membership at our pool too!! I kicked his ass on laps the other night, he had to go sit in the hot tub while I continued swimming. Ha HA!

He says he's going to get up in the morning before work and go to the gym. I say he's living in a dreamworld, dude pushes snooze more than any person alive.

(he also can't resist a challenge, even when it's as blatant as this)

That's about it, time to go tackle the crushed up cinnamon toast crunch that's all.over.my.house.

Status update.

The potty training...it's not going so hot. My kid is oblivious to the signs that he either has to pee, is currently peeing, or has peed and is now lounging around in wet undies.

He's got 9 pairs of undies. Yesterday, he had 9 accidents, and that's not counting the 45 minutes I let him go commando outside before throwing another pair on him because I wasn't too fond of the sight of him baring all as he was pushing his cars around. Nobody needs to see that shit.

Hah!

I was also setting the timer at 15 minutes, but the kid has a LOT of pee. Today I've decided on 10 minute intervals. He's getting really annoyed at me already.

Oh patience, don't fail me now!

I am so excited. No, really.

Potty training is intimidating. Especially when you're all on your own as a parent to get it done and can't fall back on the daycare to do the tough part and just follow it up at home.

Trust me, I got lucky the first time around with Liam.

I have quite an extensive group of friends who are mothers of children the same age as Nicky. The discussions about potty training have been running rampant for at LEAST a year and a half. Whenever I felt compelled to add in my 2 cents, it was always backed up with the statement "I'll take my cue from him".

Or "boys are so much harder to train, it'll be easier to wait till he's a bit older".

Or "he won't be going to kindergarten still in diapers".

Or "...fill in the blank".

For me, all of those things meant the exact same thing; I know how much work is involved and I'm frankly not interested in trips to the bathroom every 30 seconds. Like, seriously. I would find it annoying if I had to visit the bathroom that often. Never mind someone else, even if I love him to distraction.

Jeff, you're so on your own in another 40 years.

But, I also said if he hadn't started on his own by the time he turned 3 then I would start the process. His birthday has come and gone. And he's still pissing in a diaper.

We went out and picked him up some COOL big boy undies; Buzz Lightyear & Woody, Thomas the Train, and Diego. He went bananas when he saw them and wanted to put them on right away. No no, hold up mister. Mommy needs to be mentally prepared in addition to physically.

This morning marks the start of Operation Slash our Diaper Costs in Half.

It's been...12 minutes. He's peed in the potty once. He's due for another bathroom break in 3 minutes. No accidents so far, which isn't saying much since even a BABY should be able to go 15 minutes between, um, pee breaks.

So, I get to live the next couple weeks of my life in 15 minute increments, combined with an every 2 minute crotch grab. You're all jealous, Iknow.

Weight loss plan, take 8!

The prospect of shorts and tank tops has renewed my determination to shed that last 10 pounds. Of course, a winter spent sporadically stuffing my face full of junk has turned that 10 into...15ish, maybe even 20. But I digress.

It's the same old broken record; I need to find a fitness routine that I'll actually stick to. What can I say, I'm a woman! We are allowed to be wishy-washy about things. I earned the right through almost 2 1/2 years of gestating children, wouldn't you say? Not to mention the countless months spent tied to said children, having them dependant on me for nutrition. But that's a whole 'nother post.

The flavor of the month, my next new thing, the activity that caused Jeff to roll his eyes and silently scoff at me, is swimming. It's not expensive, I have access to lane swimming, aquafit, the pool gym, a running track, and the kicker, a hot tub! It's a 20 minute fast walk, or 10 minute jog, away.

You can't lose. But I'm fully aware of my inability to commit to exercise, I'm just hoping that this grabs me. Oh please, please grab me. Mama needs to get bikini ready.

Crankypants toddlers. I've had my fill of 'em.

Woah! How long has it been, 6 or 7 weeks? 2 months? All I can say is, with the end of the winter season drawing to a close, it's been hell on wheels here with trying to keep these children happy and entertained. Damn Canadian 8 month long winters!

But! Now the snow has melted -->tangent: Jeff and I had a bet about whether the mountain of snow in the backyard would melt in time for Nicky's birthday on Saturday. Do I even need to tell you who won?

Anyway, the snow has melted. And with the melting of the snow comes the dreaded snow mold. I've never paid much mind to people bitching about snow mold and allergies and blah blah blah, but karma is paying me back for that one. It looks like the middle one has allergies. And since we've been outside pretty much every day since it's warmed up enough for me to be happy out there (they don't care, they're kids, I'm selfish), Nicky has started up with the red, watery eyes, the scratching at his face as if he's possessed, runny nose, sneezing, and just general crankiness.

Thank you Claritin. You are my saving grace, especially this morning. I didn't give him his dose last night because I started to doubt whether it was allergies and was thinking it could be an ear infection. In fact, I was convinced of it...for all of 24 hours.

Not anymore. After dealing with a miserable almost 3 year old for close to an hour this morning I had reached my limit. I gave him a dose of Claritin, which he spat out. Then I force fed him another dose and put him back to bed. 15 minutes later his door opened and he came out with a huge smile and told me he felt NICE. Damn kid.

Liam was standing beside me in the kitchen throughout all this and asked me if Nicky reminded me of him when he was little. Dudes, I almost had a heart attack at the thought of having a second child that was such a....handful, if we're being nice......in the mornings. I had to clutch the stove and remind myself that this isn't normal for him.

And then I had to give myself a big hug that I'm able to send a cranky child back to bed instead of having to wrangle him into a snowsuit and onto the bus, all the while making sure that his mittens are positioned just so in order to avoid a tantrum. Which happened anyway. The people on the bus shuddered when they saw me get on, I'm sure. I wouldn't have blamed them if they got off and waited for the next bus.

I'm glad I can laugh and joke about it now. Time really does heal all wounds!

Ugh.

Dudes, I don't get sick. Seriously, the last time I got sick was when I was pregnant with Nicky. Before that, I couldn't even tell you. Oh, I get the general not-feeling-well malaise every so often but it never turns into a concrete sickness.

Apparently I was a little too cocky. Cuz this has knocked me on my ass.

It started out as a flu, minus the stomach ailments. PHEW. That was good for a few days, feverish and totally out of it. Then it turned into a head cold. And the worst stuffed nose in the history of stuffed noses. One night it took me a good 5 hours to fall asleep. I kept popping pills in the hopes of just overloading my body into passing out...and I made some kind of messed up post on facebook railing at my orthodontist from high school. Wtf. What can I say, I was high.

And then today. Ya, today. Today is when the previously mentioned stomach ailments decided to pay a visit. My bathroom was a disaster zone, what with the kids having pretty much free reign in there.

And the 2 littles are sick too. From what I can tell, it's just a cold on both their parts and right now I'm listening to Nicky cough up a lung as he's trying to sleep. Poor dude. Josh has a majorly runny nose and that seems to be the extent of his sickness. They're both in pretty good spirits too, considering. I'm pretty sure Liam is going to get hit by this too, but he's at his dads right now so I don't have to worry about him for a few days.

Jeff hasn't gotten this. Yet. And it's looking like he's holding out, which is AMAZING. Seriously, he's the one that gets sick out of the two of us. But OMG I thank everything above that he's not sick because he's picked up the slack incredibly the past 5 or 6 days. He's gotten up with Josh in the middle of the night so I could sleep. He's taken over when he gets home so that I could sprawl on the couch guilt free. He's made more runs to Safeway for supplies than I can even count. Slurpees for me since my throat hurts so bad. Just overall awesomeness.

It's my hope that I'll start turning the corner soon. If for no other reason than this phlegm crap is disgusting and is going to drive me crazy. I'm already gone through one box of Kleenex just on spitting this crap out. Ya, this post is chock full of lovely, appetizing reading isn't it?

The living room needs a makeover.

It's a well known fact that I can't leave anything well enough alone. I've always got to be changing things, moving things around, planning, dreaming. I think it annoyed Jeff for about the first 5 years we were together, now he's all "sure honey, that would look awesome..."

...

So anyway, I just go with it. I'm 100% capable of moving crap around myself because I've always been like this, but I haven't always had a man around.

->tangent: years and years ago I bought myself a bed from Ikea *insert choir of angels* and being the impatient sort I am, decided to jump in and start building it all by myself. Building a double bed complete with headboard, footboard, and side rails is advisable only with TWO people. It even says so on the instructions. However, after a lot of sweat and a frustrated tantrum or 2, I got it done. I rock.

Where were we. Oh yes, I regularily move shit around in my house. But me moving things around doesn't have a whole lot to do with this post. Focus, Chantel. No, this post has more to do with the lack of anything decorative in my living room. Everything kind of looks like it's just floating around in there.

You know Jon & Kate Plus Eight, and how the living room in their old house had a grand total of 3 peices of furniture in it? That's so my living room. A sectional, a shelving system, and a coffee and end table. That's seriously it. And do you know what is on the coffee and end table? Nothing. So 2 out of my 5 peices of furniture are not even functional.

I blame it on my toddlers. Liam was not like this. He was SO MUCH MORE calm. And since I'm inherently lazy and would prefer to parent from the comfort of my butt on the couch, all ornaments and such have found alternative homes on higher surfaces or in boxes in the storage room.

I'm KIDDING about my lazy parenting. Kind of. I'd like to parent that way but my reality is FAR different.

Today my floating living room is really picking my ass. So I decided to start with something small and put a lamp and knick-knack on the end table and a couple trays and a handmade box on the coffee table and see what would happen. Those kids were all over it in a heartbeat. Banging things around, moving stuff so they could squat in the middle of the table as per usual.

With a little gentle (ha!) reprimanding from yours truly, Nicky quickly got the picture. Josh...we're still working on it. He's pretty stubborn. I'm more stubborn. I'm making it my mission to prevail over the 1 year old.

However, there are a couple more things that need to happen in the living room to take it from "floating" to "what Chantel wants". We (Jeff) need to finish putting baseboards up. And I need to find a bigger area rug. The one we have now, which I love, is just TOO SMALL. I think the rug is what makes everything look like it's just floating around in there. There's no anchor. But it's not easy finding affordable area rugs that are at least 8x10 feet. Lotsa 5x8's, but that's what we have and that's what is too small.

So ya, there's really no point to this post except that this is what I've been obsessing over today. And maybe to let Jeff know that this is the direction we'll be going in henceforth? Ya know, with the baseboards and such? And that he also will have to at some point go and pick up whatever rug I find on Kijiji?

We have such awesome communication skillz.

Ch-ch-ch-changes.

And not all of them good.

I will forever remember this weekend as an idyllic break between when Josh woke up multiple times a night, and the real Hell started.

We'll start with the good first. After exactly 16 months of waking up at minimum 4 times a night we decided to implement Operation Cry It Out. It's never easy to try this strategy but I couldn't keep deluding myself that he would 'magically grow out of it'.

That kid loves his dee-dee's too much. And the snuggle time with mommy and daddy.

It went shockingly well. I say that because he's the most stubborn out of the 3 boys by a long shot so I thought this would be a battle. One I was expecting to lose. But no, he loves to keep me on my toes and only put up not much more than a token fuss. Friday was a bit of crying, Saturday was a bit of whining, and last night was...

...nothing? For real? How come I didn't do this 6 months ago?

Anyway, it's really nice and I'm probably jinx-ing myself by announcing it publicly - Jeff is knocking on wood right now. But even if he decides to regress tonight and get me up every hour on the hour, it would be only fitting. And that would be because the Terrible Two's have arrived.

Oh yes my friends. I have the bitchiest 16 month old on the planet right now. He's satisfied for a maximum of 3 minutes before he's screaming about something else.

He can't get his boot on? Horrors.

I ghetto-rigged the door to his room so he can't slam it shut? He's flat on the ground wailing.

I won't give him another cookie? Ope, overturned kitchen chair.

He wants my undivided attention and claws at my legs if I'm standing, dolphin rolls on my lap if I'm sitting, and just generally makes himself known in the most annoying.way.possible.

You'd think that this stage would have creeped up on us a bit. But no, other than the usual occasionally cranky toddler episode, this pretty much smacked us across the face with a 2x4.

Silver lining? He knows what time outs mean, and I'm not afraid to use them.

Better call Paranormal State, stat!

Hoooo boy am I going to have fun with this one, on SO many different levels.

As much as he likes to insist otherwise, Jeff thinks evil and unexplainable things lurk around every corner. When we bought this house he and a friend found some weird pentagram based candle sticks in the ceiling of our basement. After quickly stuffing them back up there and boarding it up he told me that if anything "off" happened then we were outta here.

Nothing happened.

I could go on, the examples are endless. But I would get off track and I really want to tell you what we discovered yesterday.

Nicky has an imaginary friend! Let me introduce you to Max.

As far as we can tell, Max is a "nice boy" who "runs super fast" and likes to smell stinky poo's. That's all we really know about him so far, that and the fact that the very idea of an imaginary friend has Jeff's imagination going into o-v-e-r-d-r-i-v-e.

He wants to research our house to see if there was ever a little boy called Max who lived here and died. Because a ghost is OBVIOUSLY the natural answer to our son having an overactive imagination.

Oh wait. Maybe he got that from his dad? It's a stretch, I know.

Imaginary friends are bred into his genes. I had one, his dad probably had 50, my sister had a couple. No biggie, as long as Max doesn't start flushing toys down the toilet, pouring a 4 litre jug of milk on the floor, or causing general destruction.

Seriously, my children are hurricanes enough as it is without added interference.

But. BUT. This is going to be highly entertaining just for the Jeff value alone. He's already so skeeved out by the thought that our house is haunted by a ghost that I anticipate endless hours of hilarity. I like to exploit his weaknesses and I can't leave this one alone.

Thank you Nicholas, for being such an awesome kid!