The bathroom to date. . .

now, I don't mean you go a courtin' or anything. I mean here is a glimpse of the bathroom to this point. "This point" being a bit further from the finish line than I'd like.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/10827830@N03/sets/72157601941494591/

Did that work? Does it let you see the pictures? Yell at me if it didn't.

Except for this -

"Have you done anything particularly hilarious recently?" I dared to ask Jordan earlier this morning.

"No not really. . . . . .except for this."

Are you inside or outside?

Someone, I won't say who, had the brilliant idea that Labor Day weekend would be the perfect time to completely gut and redo our main bathroom. So we started on Friday ripping out everything that was there, down to the studs, only to find that the studs in the outside wall left oh so much to be desired. So out came the window, out came the carpenter ants, and in went new studs and a new window frame and eventually, after much sweating and cursing, a new window.

While we were sans window, Sedona was standing outside while Jeremy and I were just inside the gaping hole. She just stared at us for a minute, very concerned. Then threw up her hands and yelled, "Are you inside or outside?!" "We both replied that we reallly weren't sure.

Here are a few pictures of our ongoing bathroom saga. I'd like to pretend that I will have a picture of the "after" in the near future, however, sadly I'm afraid that it might never happen. So hang in there.

My can't love you anymore, Mommy.

Man, this girl was just full of em today. ..
We had to drop off some Tupperware and make a few other quick stops this morning, after the huge butt incident. So we're in the car enjoying the day, Sedona is singing and laughing at funny looking trucks. Your basic pleasant car ride.

Well, before I go any further you should probably know about her obsession with poopy diapers. Somewhere along the way "poop" became frigging hilarious. She throws it into the lyrics of timeless classics like Twinkle Little Star (poop), she uses it as a joke, an insult, dinner conversation - you name it. Now don't get me wrong . . she has been reprimanded, reminded of the niceties of polite society versus bathroom humor (something a staggering number of adults are yet to master) and she'll back off of the poop talk for awhile but to no avail. It always comes back in the least likely of places.

So we're driving, talking, doing our thing and I asked what other songs she knows. "Ummm.... how bout . . . . . (she allows the suspense to build). . . . poopy diapers?" and giggles.
I expalined that I really didn't think we needed to talk about poopy diapers while we were driving in the car since there was obviously no baby within range who might actually have a poopy diaper in need of attention.
"Nope. My want talk about poop."
"Sedona, no. We are not talking about poop."

and so on. . you can imagine the ridiculously of this conversation without me going into graphic detail. And if you cannot, I'd be happy to loan you my child for an afternoon.

She is quiet for a couple of minutes. I assume the poop obsession has waned once again when suddenly I hear, "My can't love you anymore, Mommy."

Interesting.
"Really? That's sad but I still love you."

"Sometimes my love you and sometimes my have to hate you. but right now, my can't love you anymore."

Again with the quietness.

Until -
"My can't love you because you won't talk poop to me. So maybe my love you another time but I want to talk about poop and you won't do it."

Really?
Again, much like this morning, this scene played out over the next 5 or so minutes but much of it was even more repetitive than what I've already shared with you.

It has been a long day. An entertaining if very exhausting day and now I will call it done and try to rest up for the hatred tomorrow promises to bring. Oh - have I mentioned that she has also caught on to some of Jordan's particularly choice phrases?
Things he only likes to pull out in the middle of a full blown frustration/rage fit. Things like "YOU"VE RUINED MY LIFE" "I WISH I WAS NEVER EVEN BORN" "YOU DON"T EVEN LOVE ME ANYWAY!" "I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!"

How old is he again? Because I really thought I had at least a few more years on some of those.

The thing is - Sedona hasn't quite mastered the timing and correct emotional fuel behind these statements. So when I put jelly on her bread when she really only wanted butter I get "You've ruined my life, Mom" with tears. Or when her shoes don't match quite as exactly as maybe she had hoped "You don't love me!" with a giggle. I'm sure it won't take her long to get good and furious and when she does, boy, you'll find me in the nearest scaredy-hole (<--a gem of a term, new to us and introduced by a much beloved grandfather when discussing options of tornado-proofing our slab home. He thought maybe we could "dig us a scaredy-hole right in the backyard").
must sleep. no more babbling tonight.

Huge Butt

We got Jordan on the bus this morning and, after a particularly crazy last 5 days without showers and toilets and sanity (ask me if i love home improvement and I will gladly discuss Tim Allen's illustrious career, I will not however have pleasant things to say about out bathroom project just now).

Sedona and I flopped onto the couch and set into a game of kicking monsters, singing silly songs and alternating baby and mommy roles. About 15 minutes into this precious time Sedona grabbed the drawstrings of my pj pants (yes i am the mom at the bus stop in pjs today) and said "You better tie this up tight so your huge butt doesn't fall out."

Wow.

I said, "Excuse me? My huge butt?"
She calmly responded with, "Yeah see? Says huge butt" pointing carefully at a freckle on my stomach as if she was translating an ancient foreign text.

There was more after that but frankly, I was too amused to make careful notes beyond what I've shared already. I'll have to leave you wondering how our little scenario played out, resolved and eventually decided on the and comparative hugeness of my butt.

Enjoy what appears to be a sticky, cloudy end of summer day.

Oh feminism where is your sting?!

Calling Betty Friedan. . . . ..

look what I found in the kitchen a few weeks ago. Those of you even the least bit familiar with my gender politics might imagine my dismay. For those of you unfamiliar - I'm completely dismayed. Though she does look rather darling. . . . .



(sorry so big. I'll get the hang of this blogging thing yet)

THE gardening find of the year

I am completely taken with this here plant. Yes, I know that plants, unless being sniffed by children (see ancient post of Sedona, nose in mums) have very little to do with children. However, as this is my blog, I hereby hijack all child and cuteness related posts to bring you this incredible feat of nature.
I got a little pot of this oxalis at a master gardener sale early this year for a measely $10. It is perennial, a real treat, and I was able to divide it into 5 pots and still, this fabulous. It even closes up at night and in extreme sun. What's not to love?



Again with the bigness!

In the interim-

While I was away, doing all kinds of things except blogging, the girl turned 3. Now, ask her and she'll tell you time and time again that she is, in fact, 5. Liar, she may be, but consistency is the thing and that she is. Consistent.

Here is the princess on her birthday. You might have to REALLY crank that volume to catch it, though, oh and you might have to speak a bit of Sedona-ese.

"My eye wants to watch a movie"

Quickly as Jordan and friend seem to be making popcorn and without supervision, there is likely to be not only an excess of salt but popcorn kernels galore on my living room floor.
So. I'll make this quick.

Sedona has taken to personifying her body parts as they have very specific needs and requests. She came to me the other day and said calmy and in a regular voice, "Mommy, my eye want watch movie." I said, "Oh really?"

And she replied, with small squeaky comedic voice and fingers plucking and pinching eyelid, "my want watch movie"
regular voice - "see?"
Here apparent eye's voice - "my want watch movie"

This happened again the following day when her knee wasn't sleepy. She couldn't possibly take a nap when her knee wouldn't stop shouting things like (again in the weird squeking, not Sedona talking voice), "MY NOT TIRED! MY NOT SLEEP RIGHT NOW!"
regular voice - "See? My can't go sleep. My knee not tired. My just sleep all day smorning"

Remind to follow up on the "all day smorning" trend in my next post.


Is anyone still reading? If so - please leave a comment or a threat or something. I fear I've let you all down taking absurd leaves of absence here. Months without a post makes for restless and eventually absent readers.

Says ABC POOP!

We've always tried to encourage our children to read. We keep books by beds, in kitchen, and always in the car, hoping that if easily accessible, books will be a first choice of leisurely activity. Sedona has a particular affection for books with flaps that she can open and close to discover all kind of things beneath. On such book is Little People Farm book that she enjoys reading in the car.

A few weeks ago (yes I am a bit delayed in this posting) you were carefully examining the pig on a page about opposites. The pig is standing near the clothesline where freshly washed white sheets are hanging. The pig is very clean. You open the flap and suddenly the pig has made a mess of himself and the laundry by wallowing happily in a mud puddle. The pig is dirty.

Well, Sedona insisted that the pig had pooped. "Oh, Mommy! Look! That pig poop."

I gently corrected, with a smile, "That isn't poop, Sedona. That is mud. The pig is dirty playing in the mud. See? Clean and dirty."

She wouldn't hear of it.
Arguing persistently for close to 2 minutes (which, as some of you may know is a VERY long time in 3yr old land) she kept laughing and saying "Noooo . . . him poop. poopy pig" and the like.

Finally, exasperated by unwillingness to agree, she pointed one little finger close to the page, and moved her face in close to examine it all more closely.

I thought, perhaps, you about to concede.
Wrong.

"See? Says A-B-C-POOP(and this last little bit was yelled)"
and again.
"My read it to you Mommy. Says A-B-C- POOP!" and again, emphasizing the "POOP" as if to make certain I understood once and for all. I mean, who can argue with what is committed to print? If the book says it is poop, clearly, it is.

Drive-Thru Challenged

Anyone familiar with my eating habits knows that I am no stranger to the drive-thru. However, in recent months drive-thrus have become more challenging than I ever dreamed they could be.

Not since the days of 2-3 year old Bayley (who would ever so insistently request, loudly, a biscuit. Her little mouth however did not form the word biScuit but rather BigTi - well you can figure the rest)have I suffered such confusion at the drive-thru window.

We discuss the order to placed as we wait to speak into the frustrating little speaker box and we are all agreed on the plan, confident that each will be provided for. But somehow the minute I start talking Sedona panics and is sure that her order will be forgotten! So she chimes in, loudly, repeating things I've already listed. The poor soul on the other end of the speaker box doesn't stand a chance at accurately entering the orders. So we add and subtract and clarify and subtract an item again and then put on back on with no pickles and around and around we go.

Only to then realize after we've pulled to the window and handed over our money that in all the hubbub we removed one too many child-sized drinks. Arg.

Now, I have experience in this field. Not only is my own order often obnoxious in its specifity, but I also deal with it much more frequently than Jeremy, who is already drive-thru averse. If it can't be ordered entirely with numbers, ("I'll take a #2, #4 and 2 #5's please. All with Dr. Pepper. Yes that's all.") then it is already more trouble than it is worth to him. But this recent added confusion might just be enough to send him over the edge. Stay tuned.

**** A special note: This post was actually written umm, yeah months ago, and somehow never posted. But I am happy to report that all have survived and grown more accustomed to the ways of the drive-thru window. Little ones have calmed and learned to trust that they probably won't starve and probably won't be served sheep's head. Plus, in an effort to become better people we don't see the drive-thru nearly as often as some of us might like to. ******

"C'mon, pal"

There is this moment that I keep finding myself in when my darling little child is suddenly an actual person. An actual kid. An actual 8 year old with a personality entirely his own and friends who find him darling. Sure, I have always found him darling, he's my baby, but it is decidely different when you see the way your child, your baby, interacts with his peers.

Jordan has a friend over this afternoon. A friend he introduces to others as his "like practically brother we're such best friends". And while I finished my lunch in the silence of naptime the boys were playing dragons and dinos in the living room. I overheard them discussing how long they had to play (3.5 hours) and then Jordan says, "We better get to it. Because - - well time sure passes fast when you're playing with a good friend."
Somebody get the crackers! Cheesy!! But darling, of course.
His counterpart responded with an unsuprsied "yeah, you're right" and they went about their dragon pretending ways.

Then they came to ask for a snack just a minute ago and Jordan was making some fairly obnoxious noise with his cheeks full of air and his friend says "Jordan could you please quit?" and Jordan responds "Sure. Sorry. pal" then nudges him with outstretched arm on elbow. Think - ol' buddy, ol' pal, ol' chap nudge.

and they left the room with a quiet and smiling "C'mon, pal".

I can hardly contain myself just about now. Not sure if I'll laugh at the cheesiness or cry at the aging of my baby.

A brief expose on the status of Jordan's hair

This was totally unsolicited. That is what makes it all the funnier. I said maybe we should take one picture before we chopped it off and instead he asks if I could turn the video on because "I think I'd like to make a short video". So here you have it.

Stylist at heart?

Sedona takes a stab at headbands.

Day-Tripping. .. .

Last Wednesday we ventured up to the great Illinois capital of Springfield to meet Dad and Pam and Joey who were camping not far from there. We spent the afternoon at the Lincoln Museum and later at a fabulous establishment called Kicks 66.
Allow me to provide you with what I consider the 3 true successes of the day. One per child, mind you.

At the museum there is an area where kids can play with old-timey types of toys (things made out of this bizarre material they call "wood") and dress up in Lincoln era garb. Sedona enjoyed the dresses as much as the next little girl but it wasn't until she tried on the soldier's coat that it became worth mentioning. She puts on the coat, gets help buttoning it up and just as I step back to take her picture she turns and check out her butt in the mirror. No joke. Does the over the shoulder butt check in the enormous soldier's uniform. Atta girl.

Here she is just after the butt-check. All was well.




Next up - Jordan. The curious lad wonders if maybe Grandpa is lying when he says that he isn't actually ticklish. So Jordan digs those little fingers deep into grandpa-pits and gets, sadly, no reaction other than "Most people wouldn't want to put their hands in my armpits". So when he finially gives up we catch him slowly and very intently smelling his fingers. Yes. small sniffs, scrunched face.


A bit later we're at Kicks 66 enjoying the buffet and Joey comes back to the table with a mystery desert in a small bowl. We ask him what it is, he doesn't know but "it was on the desert pile" so he figured it couldn't be all bad. He takes a bite and then sets into the most dramatic display of spitting out food and wiping off tongue. We laugh, a bit suprised, and say "What is it, Joey?" and he responds in a voice reminiscent of Forrest Gump, "Something stick-ay!"

It was glorious.
A lovely day trip. Lovely children.
I'll get pictures up to accompany the story here in just a bit. Back to the Easter costume construction for awhile.

Impressionable youth

I had Sedona in the tub this morning when she stood on her head, butt up and dipped only the front of her hair in the water. When she stood up, she looked like this and announced "Look, Mommy, my look like those mans" and pointed to the Misfits poster that adorns our bathroom wall. For those unfamiliar with the signature Misfit hair-do. This is pretty much it. The lock down in front of their face. She loved it. Repeated the act four or five times, demanding her picture be taken each time and with each picture adding commentary that I can't possibly do justice to here. Things like "My like it my BIG hair" and "Those mans funny. My funny too!"



and just as a point of reference. . . this is The Misfits . . . .

It isn't funny.

Really. it isn't.
And yet, somehow, I just can't not laugh. I'm a horrible mother. Laughing in the suffering face of my child.
But let me provide you with a bit of much needed background info, allow me to set the stage for you. . . .

We are trying, in vain, to get just a few errands done after church one sunny Sunday afternoon. Jordan, in a delightfully foul mood, has not even paused in the whining and petitioning department. When he finally does, he laughs and says "Fine, then, I'll just live inside this bug bag." And a smile creeps across his face, the foul mood evaporating and Jordan is restored to his usual silly self.

I smile and say something to the effect of "Well that just sounds super. You do that."

And so he did.
But that isn't where the picture comes in. It isn't until he's rambled on, jokingly, about how his family doesn't want him and he's actually happier in the bug bag that he decides, maybe he'll take the bag off his head now. Let me also mention that his head was completely inside the bag. I saw only neck and body with a blue insect collecting bag for a head.
He starts to pull the bag off when he discovers . . dum dum dummmmm. . . .he's stuck.
Yes stuck.
Which wouldn't be such a momentous event if it weren't for the panic that ensued. Jordan gets stuck all sorts of places and is usually able to calmly extricate himself. Not this time. And I'm in the front seat, trying to calmly address the situation, asking him to stop yanking on it and stop, certainly, the frenzied screaming. But he won't listen. I reach back to try and help - am pushed away.
So I told him that if he was unwilling to accept help, that he would just have to wait until we got home to deal with it but that the screaming must certainly stop immdiately.

And now, I become the jerk, after having conducted myself very well, I think anyway, I got out the camera phone. He sat there, in the bag, scowling at me for the next 15 minuts. When I say "in the bag" I mean really completely inside. The pciture I happened to capture one of the times he lifted it up to see if he still hated his family. The rest of te drive he sat there, arms crossed across his chest with a blue bag atop his neck. I offered to help him again but he harumphed and turned his attention out his window. (Remember here that he can't actually see anything from inside the bag - making his turned neck even funnier)

Am I the only one that see the comedy in this? Scowling with a little toy bag on your head. The scowl really loses its effect and you somehow become simply hilarious. Especially if no one can see that you are, in fact, still scowling from inside the blue vinyl that has swallowed your head.

So I laughed, mostly to myself, but he just kept scowling until he finally says, "Well I'm glad SOMEBODY thinks it is funny that I have a freaking BAG stuck on my head."
That's when I lost all restraint and it is at that point in the story that I sit here, alone in the office, and laugh outloud.

I love this kid.