Monday, September 24, 2012

Toddler OCD

I think Koley has Toddler OCD which could be made up but is probably valid.
He is way too into routine.  Some people (Ken) might blame me for that because I love a good schedule.  But Kole takes it to a different level.
For instance, I've been wedging a baby blanket into his door at night.  This way he can pull and pull on the door but he can't get it open.  (Ha HA!  I didn't even have to spend a buck on those handle covers!  HA!) I don't think Kole ever really knew it's purpose was to seal him into his room at night but now, after all the bed time things have been done (bath with the yellow soap not the blue soap, dry off with the dragon towel not the stripe towel, fresh diaper before we brush his teeth with the blue toothbrush not the yellow one, Thomas the Tank Engine pants on along with the Lightning McQueen shirt, say a prayer... DAD says it, Special Talk, smooch this stuffed monkey, then Kole, THEN that monkey!)...When all that is done and I'm thinking "I nailed it.  No tears tonight."  Kole goes into hysterics.  I scream in my head and then calmly, with a smile, ask Kole, "What is it man?" 
"Put the blanket in the door."
And maybe it is just his age but he asks me ten stinking bazillion questions a day.  Most of them are repeated over and over no matter how many times I give the right answer.
Where's Dad going, Mom?  Dad's going to work.
Where's Dad going, Mom?  To work.
Where's Dad going, Mom?  He's headed to work.  He'll be back tonight.
Where's Dad going, Mom?  Oh, he's going to work.
Where's Dad going, Mom?  To work.
Where's Dad going, Mom?  To work.

I've realized if I give the wrong answer Kole snaps back.
Where's Dad going, Mom?  Dad is going to ShhhBooms.
No.  Dad's going to work?  Yeah, Kole.  Dad's going to work.

Where you going Mom?  To the bathroom.
Where you going Mom?  To the bathroom. 
Where you going Mom?  To the bathroom, Kole.
Where you going Mom?  I'm going to the bathroom. 
Where you going Mom?  Right over here.  To the bathroom.

You're going to the bathroom?  Uh huh.  I'm shutting the door now. Bye.

Once he gets bored of asking where me and Ken are or are going he starts asking about relatives.  But he normally gives me what he thinks the answer will be in question form.

Where's Granny?  Granny at her house? Yup!  Granny's at her house.(Repeat.)
Where's Big Grandpa? Big Grandpa in the hot tub? He might be in the hot tub, yeah. (Repeat several hundred times.)
Where's Greta?  Greta in the hospital? She was only there one day.  She's at her house now.(Repeat until you lose your voice.)
Where's PopPop?  On a hike? He's probably at work today.  (Repeat until your head explodes.)
Where's Gramma Ginger?  With Big Grandpa? No, she's teaching school today. (Repeat x Infinity)

Perhaps he just really loves his family and this is how he expresses that.
I'd rather he drew cards for them.

Once we've climbed the family tree Kole picks anything in the house, even things he already knows the name of and starts in.
What's this called, Mom? A pineapple.
A Pineapple?  Yeah.
What's this called, Mom? A pineapple, silly.
A Pineapple?  Yeah.
What's this called, Mom? That's a pineapple.
A Pineapple?  Yeah.
What's this called, Mom? A pineapple.
A Pineapple?  Yeah.

When I get sick of answering again I say, "I don't know, Kole, what IS that called?"
Sometimes his answers are right and sometimes.... I don't know.
Like the pineapple one.  I had just told him 300 times that it was called a pineapple.  Then,  I asked him what it was and he smiled really big and said, "CORNAPPLE!"

I don't even know what that is.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

As If Waiting For Christmas Wasn't Hard Enough

According to my Christmas Countdown App... hold it right there.... you don't have one?  You know they're free right?  And 2 year olds la-hove them.  At least my Christmas-obsessed two year old does.  Every morning while we're eating breakfast Kole says, "It's Cwismas today!"  And I say, "It is?  We haven't even put the tree up!  Oh rats!"  And he laughs and laughs and then asks for hot chocolate.  I tell him no way jose and he starts in again with "But... It's Cwismas today."

(Side note:  I say 'No Way Jose' a lot to Kole.  He tries to repeat it in similar situations but always leaves out the "way."  So it sounds like he's just always angry at our gardener.  "No Jose!  No Jose!")

According to my Christmas Countdown App there are 97 days until Christmas.  I'm dyyyyyying!  I can't take it anymore!  I wish Christmas were here today.  But even more than I want December 25th to be here....

.... I want October 13th to be here!
Because (I think it's my brother in laws birthday) WE'RE MOVING!

To a house.
Ahhhhhhhh.  Exhale.
We've been in our townhouse for 1 year 1 month and 29 days.
It has served it's purpose.  But with the arrival of Josie (<---- I call Joey Josie sometimes.  I think it's okay since he is a baby.) our place seems so much smaller.  I think it's the crying.  The crying that fills the entire house.  Every hour and a half.  All night long.  Which is friggin' bizarre because during the day he is Mr. Sunshine and at night he is El Diablo.
I'd been begging Ken to move into one of the 3 bedroom apartments here.  That way it will be really super easy to let Joey cry it out. Oh, yeah.  I let my babies cry it out.  I'm heartless, cruel, and callous.  Ken didn't see how having an extra room would make that much of a difference (really?) but our rent went up.  WAH WAH!  And I happen to be cruising the local papes and found a gem of a house right in our price range.

It wasn't a hard sell:

I mean let's compare here...

Current Back Yard
Oh wait... let me give you a better angle... to make it look bigger.

Hmph.  No use.  Oh well.

Here's the future back yard:

Hello!  Come to mama!
 A few things I'd like to point out.  1.) There's grass.  Like enough for us to have a picnic on.  2.)  Those trees!  Look how big they are!  3.)  Is that a patio I see?  Are those burgers grilling I smell?  I hope someones bringing potato salad cuz we're having a cook out!

Here is the front yard where we live now:

Front yard fail. 
We are lucky we have the handicap spot in front of us so no one can park their junky car there.

Here's the front yard where we are moving:
Run Koley!  Enjoy the freedom of not having to dodge cars!
Run with wreck-less abandon, my son!
(Did you get the pun there?  Clever girl, that Patty.)

It's a great house.  (And for only $25 more than we'd be paying in rent here.)  I am obviously most excited about the yard.  And the land.  Oh, my dear.  Had I forgot to mention?  It sits on 2 acres.  Totally ours.
It's unbelievable.  I'm beyond excited.  Beyond grateful.

Now.  In fairness to Ken.  He picked the townhouse where we live now.  There are things I will miss.  The island in the kitchen.  The cute cubbie under the stairs we turned into a playroom for Kole.  The... the... Hmmm.  I won't miss the weird smell the downstairs bathroom always resonates.  Or the rotten kids playing di-RECTly outside my window.  Or the multiple daily walks to the dumpster.
But this place had some wonderful memories.

Kole and Ken became inseparable.
Kole learned to walk here.

...and eat on his own.

He got his first hair cut here. 
Kole switched to a big bed.
Okay... that wasn't the happiest memory.
But it's better now.

I got pregnant with Joey.
And this is where we brought him home...
...To be a family.
But don't think for one second that all that sentimentality is going to stop me from leaving this place in the dust.  Well.  Literally spotless... so we get our deposit back... but metaphorically... in the dust.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Kole's Bad Habit.

Kole loves to eavesdrop.
Maybe it's part of the "learning process."
But I've had it up to here with the learning process.  Kole is learning more than a boy his age should learn.
Like, most mornings after breakfast Kole asks, "Gonna pump a bottle, Mom?"
Um. Awkward.
Or, if we're planning on not going anywhere Kole will say, "Put your bra on, Mom?" it funny?  Or crossing a line?  Or learning?  I don't think a 2-year old needs to learn about the lactation process or anything boobie related.  But my 2 year old knows way too much about it.
Back to eavesdropping.
First, I always thought it was ease-dropping.  As in, "Look at the ease with which I am overhearing this conversation."  Hmm!  Live you learn.
Kole has always been really quiet if I am on the phone.  I always just thought he was brimming with good manners and chivalrous conduct.  Turns out the little bugger was just eavesdropping.
I've learned this because after I get off the phone Koley gives me his re-cap.  Always in question form.  I hope that's a phase.

Joey drives Mommy nuts?  Sometimes?  At night?
Ken is at work?  Coming home?  Take out meat?
Gweta get better?
Anni more happy?
Gwamma's house Friday?

At first I was just impressed.  He can pick up so much so quickly.  But things have taken a mischievous turn.  For instance.  If I am on the phone with Ken and I call him "Ken" instead of "Dad" (saying Ken just comes naturally.) Kole will call him "Ken"  for the rest of the day.  "Ken coming home soon?"  "Ken cookin' dinner?"  "Ken changing his clothes?"  "Ken give me bath?"  He says it all with bright eyes and a big smile... like I know I'm supposed to call him "Dad" but come on.  We're all grown ups here.
Yesterday he had been calling Ken... "Ken" for about an hour and just giggling every time. I told him he needs to call him Dad.  More giggling.
I said, "You need to call him Dad or I'll take your trucks away."
It got real quiet.
Then a smile ten miles wide....and he said:
"Okay, Patty."

Monday, September 10, 2012

Reasons to Go to the Gym

Ken signed us up for a Gym Membership.  Couple things here.
First, did I correctly capitalize that? "G"ym "M"embership?  I gets a little caps crazy.  But it does seem title worthy.
Real First.
I'm not obsessive about weight.  At all.  It's a number and it means nothing.  When I lived in Europe I learned the key to looking good is to simply wear your size.  Nothing tight and nothing baggy and you'll look fantastic.  Sorta been my motto.  Something to stand firmly by when I tell a size 0, 95 pound trainer... that I am a size 12 and weigh 167.  I say it with no guilt and no shame.  Not quite proudly... but I'm not embarrassed.
And I get an opened mouth look.
A look I have never known how to interpret.

I am my same "pre-baby weight."  Which also means nothing.  Because, for those of you who haven't had kids, you can be that same weight you were pre-child and look totally different.  For those of you who have had kids... quit hating.  I just lucked out.  And am married to someone who was obsessively strict about what I ate when I was pregnant.
Words to describe how I look: Saggy.  Droopy.  Downwardly.  Slack.  Floppy.  Baggy. My boobs are there but not perky like when I was 20. or 21.  or 22.  or any age before I had Kole.  (< 26).  And my butt?  Hangs out with the back of my knees.  Even my arms have become...dangle-y.
I realize these problems can be solved with a new bra, some Spanx, and a tanning pass.  That's my normal go-to.  (Add whitening strips to the mix.)  But a nice new bra would get ruined (and stinky) from breast milk and I tried to get my Spanx on.  *sigh* They aren't going past my knees.  I can't justify paying for a tanning pass when it's still sunny and hot here.  But the double down side it my Jergens Natural Glow just ran out.
Dead end.  Dead end.  Dead end.
Then Ken comes home with this Gym Pass.  (<--- Caps again. ??)
Therein lies my salvation.
Generally I would label myself as a Non-Gym Rat.  I don't like gyms all that much.   Or should I say I don't like gyms much at all. Mostly because I sign up, pay the fee, and then don't go and I feel like I wasted my money.
I've been going everyday for a week.
Minus the one day I didn't go.
After going once, and realizing confirming that "It is true.  I don't like to work out"  I have still kept going for 2 reasons.
1.  No kids are allowed at the Gym.
2.  Every machine has its own TV.

Who WOULDN'T go work out?

When I come home Ken asks what I did.  Elliptical.
How far did you go?  Hmmm.  I don't know.
How many calories did you burn?  Oh! I don't know.
Were you in your target heart rate?  Beats me.  Did you know Kourtney wants to have a water birth?
Is Kourtney someone you met at the Gym today?  No.  She's one of the Kardashians.  That's what I watch when I go.

And poor Khloe had to go and watch a real water birth with Kourtney.  Psht.  Tough stuff.
Ken says I should go and focus on my long term goals.


Goals like buy my own TV so I can watch it at home without putting on work out clothes?
Good goal.

(I am down 3 pounds in one week.  Something is working.  Oh!  ME!  I'm working...out.)

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

What Am I Missing Here?

I watched The Artist last night.  
(Look at me!  Putting the kidlets to bed and enjoying a night in front of the TV.)
I was in the mood for something... artsy.  And with the given title and the Academy Award backing it up I felt confident it would be golden.
I was let down.
Was I missing something?
I like to think of myself as an Intellectual.  A Renaissance Woman.  Some call me a Brainiac.
Fans.  I'm only repeating what they have said.
So being the Deep Thinker that I am I felt like this movie should have spoke to me and my sagacity.
Eh eh.
Sure, I enjoyed it.
But I didn't "Picture of the Year" enjoy it.
I wasn't moved to make changes in my life or to treat people people or to donate to ASPCA.
I wasn't even moved to watch more black and white movies or listen to 1320 AM.
I was just moved to return it to the RedBox and hope it returned my $1.28.

Image Here.