Today, while I was speaking to Ethan about why it's bad to hit the dog with a big stick (which he had been punished for while I was at work) he stopped me mid-lecture and said "I'm tired of having this conversation with you."
I mean, it was a pretty long lecture- guilt laden and what not.. for the dog's sake I hope he got my message.
Then this evening while I was laying in bed with him, he was listing out boys and girls, women and men, males and females. (I think he's perplexed that there are so many different words for a persons sex.) He says "Emily is a girl and a woman." I said "Who is Emily?" He says "You know, your mom, grandma." I said, "Grandma Ruthie is my mom, Grandma Emily was Uncle Guys mom." (For those of you just tuning in, Uncle Guy is my father, Ethan's Grandfather- who seems to think that he's not yet old enough to be called Grandpa. (ps...he REALLY is.)) ANYWAY. I say, "but Grandma Emily is dead". He says "That's so sad, but don't worry- I will buy you a new one." To which I reply "You can't really buy a Grandma." With great confidence he says "Sure you can, at the Girl and Boy store."
So, for those of you who are plum out of grandparents...We just need directions to the boy and girl store. I will Google it later, and send out the link. Maybe it's like a big brother/little sister program or something.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
He gave me the finger
I do believe that titleing is the best part of blogging. This particular title is an attempt to joke about a subject that is far from funny. I think this is called irony. But I could be wrong.
Yesterday was Friday the 13th.
While I am not a particularly superstitious person, I think that when the universe speaks, you best listen. So, while most Fridays that happen to fall on the 13th day of the month are fairly benign, this one, not so much. I will pay more attention to the date from now on.
Work was fine, flew by- no whammies! Got home, kids misbehaving, requiring time outs, then spankings, then spankings WITH time outs. Not good.
We had the quickest dinner that I could whip up, and I got both kids in the bath....this, my friend, is where it begins- but SO far from where it ends.
Just as I was grabbing some towels to pull the clean shiny children from the bath, Riley pooped the tub. Remove children... empty bath... pick up human feces..bleach tub... rinse tub... replace children... rewash children etc.
After fun time in the bath was over, the kids scampered up the stairs for a little more trouble. KNOWING that their mother was downstairs cleaning up the poop-tastrophy, my little angles conspired against me. Ethan went into my bathroom, got the garbage can- placed the garbage can under the window, stood up on the garbage can, opened the window and screen, and tried to climb out. Not sure what Riley's part was in this, but I'm sure she was cheering him on, at the very least.
While this could have ended badly, it did not. His logistics were all wrong.When he called for help, I found him with his ass on the roof, and his head and feet still in the house. (It's a small window).
So now it's getting on about 7pm. I have both the kids in Riley's room with me, since CLEARLY they can't
be out of site for more than 7 seconds.... We are TOTALLY settling down. All three of us in Ri's twin bed, snuggling and laughing... When IT happens.
Ethan gets up, walks over to Riley's closet, and attempts to open the door. When he turns the handle, which is a 100 year old glass knob, it breaks off, and slices off the tip of his right ring finger.
MADNESS IN SUES. He runs to me, still with the glass knob in his little hand, SCREAMING. I jump up, and seeing a little blood, try to get him into the bathroom. Unaware of the damage, I actually try to put a band aid on it....NOT WORKING!
At this point, Riley too, begins screaming bloody murder- which is appropriate since that's what the place looked like. I'm trying like crazy to get pressure on it now, which of course causes the boy pain, thus increasing the screaming.
After what seemed like an hour, I found the phone and called for back up. Got a towel for poor Ethan's hand, got a diaper bag for Riley. When I opened up the towel, I realized that he was missing a good portion of his finger...I went to find it. As soon as I walked in the room I could see it, still on the nub of a door handle that had taken it from him. I grabbed a zip lock, and plucked if from the glass. Threw it in some ice, and away we went.
It's time for me to go sleep with Ethan. After all, he might need help in the bathroom at 2am.
Yesterday was Friday the 13th.
While I am not a particularly superstitious person, I think that when the universe speaks, you best listen. So, while most Fridays that happen to fall on the 13th day of the month are fairly benign, this one, not so much. I will pay more attention to the date from now on.
Work was fine, flew by- no whammies! Got home, kids misbehaving, requiring time outs, then spankings, then spankings WITH time outs. Not good.
We had the quickest dinner that I could whip up, and I got both kids in the bath....this, my friend, is where it begins- but SO far from where it ends.
Just as I was grabbing some towels to pull the clean shiny children from the bath, Riley pooped the tub. Remove children... empty bath... pick up human feces..bleach tub... rinse tub... replace children... rewash children etc.
After fun time in the bath was over, the kids scampered up the stairs for a little more trouble. KNOWING that their mother was downstairs cleaning up the poop-tastrophy, my little angles conspired against me. Ethan went into my bathroom, got the garbage can- placed the garbage can under the window, stood up on the garbage can, opened the window and screen, and tried to climb out. Not sure what Riley's part was in this, but I'm sure she was cheering him on, at the very least.
While this could have ended badly, it did not. His logistics were all wrong.When he called for help, I found him with his ass on the roof, and his head and feet still in the house. (It's a small window).
So now it's getting on about 7pm. I have both the kids in Riley's room with me, since CLEARLY they can't
be out of site for more than 7 seconds.... We are TOTALLY settling down. All three of us in Ri's twin bed, snuggling and laughing... When IT happens.
Ethan gets up, walks over to Riley's closet, and attempts to open the door. When he turns the handle, which is a 100 year old glass knob, it breaks off, and slices off the tip of his right ring finger.
MADNESS IN SUES. He runs to me, still with the glass knob in his little hand, SCREAMING. I jump up, and seeing a little blood, try to get him into the bathroom. Unaware of the damage, I actually try to put a band aid on it....NOT WORKING!
At this point, Riley too, begins screaming bloody murder- which is appropriate since that's what the place looked like. I'm trying like crazy to get pressure on it now, which of course causes the boy pain, thus increasing the screaming.
After what seemed like an hour, I found the phone and called for back up. Got a towel for poor Ethan's hand, got a diaper bag for Riley. When I opened up the towel, I realized that he was missing a good portion of his finger...I went to find it. As soon as I walked in the room I could see it, still on the nub of a door handle that had taken it from him. I grabbed a zip lock, and plucked if from the glass. Threw it in some ice, and away we went.
We were in the Emergency Room for about 14 minutes. Seriously. For those of you who don't think it can happen, we are proof. A SHORT trip to the ER. They examined him, told us they couldn't reattach the tissue, cleaned it and wrapped it. Promised that it would heal nicely, told us to follow up with the pediatrician in a few days. Away we went. This is (so far anyway) the only perk of having a nurse husband- ER connections...
Poor child was so upset he didn't even want strawberry ice cream.
So now my rambunctious, independent boy needs help pulling up his pants, and is trying to figure out how to live a left handed life. He's currently being spoiled rotten, and I doubt that I have (or will) ever felt such sympathy for another human being. If I could write him for pain-killers I would do it. If I could give him my finger- sign me up!
So this has been our weekend of horror. We are hoping that this early in the year trip to the E.R. means that we are off the hook for the remainder of the summer, but somehow I doubt we will get off that easily.
I'm sorry if you were fooled by the title. If I tricked you into reading this by making you think you were going to get a funny story about my son flicking me off...I just really needed a little humor to get through it...I didn't mean for that to be at your expense.
It's time for me to go sleep with Ethan. After all, he might need help in the bathroom at 2am.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Boys will be boys (and so will men)
I have been quiet for to long. Or perhaps I should say, my children have been UN funny for to long. We've had little moments of hilarity here and there, but nothing to blog about. (Remember when that phrase was "nothing to write home about"?
In fact, the last two weeks have been FAR from funny. Thanks in great part to my brother.
About 3 weeks ago I got the following text message from "Uncle Jim"...
...Tell your boy to pack his bags, we're going up North this weekend. No Grandmas, No sisters allowed. He doesn't need pants, as we don't wear pants in the North Woods. Just send him money for beer...
While this should have been a big red flag for me, I knew how excited Ethan was to go up North, so I told him, and we packed his bag. (He brought pants.)
The second day of their trip Ethan called. He said "Mommy, I've been saying a bad word."
"What bad word is that, Ethan?"
"Douche Bag."
"You're right, that IS a bad word."
"UNCLE JIM SAYS WE CAN SWEAR IN THE NORTH WOODS."
So it began. A weekend of Man children (brother included) swearing it up in the woods.
Funny, yes. But also terrifying.
Fast forward two weeks. My son is home safe (which I realize is a country miracle.) HOWEVER, there have been MULTIPLE "F bombs", several "shit, shit, shit"'s- and my personal favorite- "Mommy, sometimes we don't listen to you because you're a....(wait for it)....WOMAN.
Kill. Me.Now.
When I SCREAMED at him for that one, he calmly told me "Mommy, I just called you a woman because you ARE a woman." Way to spin it, kid!
So now I'm set to the task of straightening this child out. It may take years, and many bars of soap, but I'm going to do it. I think we've made progress over the past week. I heard one "What the F*&*" yesterday, but today he's transformed into the swearing police- catching every "bad word" I say. You would be surprised how many times a day this...Never mind. No you wouldn't.
At any rate. This is where we're at. A funny little potty mouth boy with the vocabulary to use EVERY word correctly. Practicing the art of male chauvinism at an incredibly young age. We're very proud.
Meanwhile, the girl child has been stomping and shouting baby swears. I can't tell yet if it's "Dang it!" or "Damn it!" but I get the sentiment for sure. Today marks the first "Are you kidding me?" Which is actually cause for celebration, as it's the longest sentence she's uttered so far in her short life. It sounds a little more like "Ah OHH kitten me?" But again, I get the sentiment.
I hope to get back to crazy, sweet, silly stories any day now- and as I've stated, there have been a few, but since I'm still seeing red, it's hard to concentrate on all that fluffy stuff...
Stay tuned!
In fact, the last two weeks have been FAR from funny. Thanks in great part to my brother.
About 3 weeks ago I got the following text message from "Uncle Jim"...
...Tell your boy to pack his bags, we're going up North this weekend. No Grandmas, No sisters allowed. He doesn't need pants, as we don't wear pants in the North Woods. Just send him money for beer...
While this should have been a big red flag for me, I knew how excited Ethan was to go up North, so I told him, and we packed his bag. (He brought pants.)
The second day of their trip Ethan called. He said "Mommy, I've been saying a bad word."
"What bad word is that, Ethan?"
"Douche Bag."
"You're right, that IS a bad word."
"UNCLE JIM SAYS WE CAN SWEAR IN THE NORTH WOODS."
So it began. A weekend of Man children (brother included) swearing it up in the woods.
Funny, yes. But also terrifying.
Fast forward two weeks. My son is home safe (which I realize is a country miracle.) HOWEVER, there have been MULTIPLE "F bombs", several "shit, shit, shit"'s- and my personal favorite- "Mommy, sometimes we don't listen to you because you're a....(wait for it)....WOMAN.
Kill. Me.Now.
When I SCREAMED at him for that one, he calmly told me "Mommy, I just called you a woman because you ARE a woman." Way to spin it, kid!
So now I'm set to the task of straightening this child out. It may take years, and many bars of soap, but I'm going to do it. I think we've made progress over the past week. I heard one "What the F*&*" yesterday, but today he's transformed into the swearing police- catching every "bad word" I say. You would be surprised how many times a day this...Never mind. No you wouldn't.
At any rate. This is where we're at. A funny little potty mouth boy with the vocabulary to use EVERY word correctly. Practicing the art of male chauvinism at an incredibly young age. We're very proud.
Meanwhile, the girl child has been stomping and shouting baby swears. I can't tell yet if it's "Dang it!" or "Damn it!" but I get the sentiment for sure. Today marks the first "Are you kidding me?" Which is actually cause for celebration, as it's the longest sentence she's uttered so far in her short life. It sounds a little more like "Ah OHH kitten me?" But again, I get the sentiment.
I hope to get back to crazy, sweet, silly stories any day now- and as I've stated, there have been a few, but since I'm still seeing red, it's hard to concentrate on all that fluffy stuff...
Stay tuned!
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