Random Dancing!

If you're the parent of a tweenager (or in my case The Tweenager), it's likely you'll know exactly WHO does random dancing. This post doesn't really have anything to do with her, but it was the first thing that popped into my head when I thought of creating a random blog post.

So here they are, in random order, the random thoughts that have been dancing through my head lately.

• Mr. Baby is perfectly content to stay where he is. Since his lease isn't technically up for another three weeks, that's just fine with me. I would, however, prefer if he would stop trying to dislocate my ribs.

• I'm pretty sure that if moms were in charge of the school district budget, we wouldn't have nearly the financial woes we do now.

• I'm fairly certain if The Tweenager was a girl, I'd've killed him by now.

• I clearly was mistaken when I assumed that boys don't develop "the attitude" as early as girls do.

• Diva Nana & Diva Papa are on a fabulous road trip with my globetrotting Diva Godmother. They were recently in NY State and stopped at Ft. Ticonderoga. I asked if they were bringing us back some pencils. They didn't get it.

• Diva Nana is very concerned that Mr. Baby might make his appearance early, ie: before they return. She was happy to hear my first random thought.

• The Manimal is quite taken by the small stash of teeny-tiny diapers that we have. He had to try one on for size, even though it would barely cover one of his preschool-sized butt cheeks. He was a bit upset when I told him that the baby could no longer use that diaper since the tape closure was torn from its side and attached somewhere else on the diaper.

• I just used the phrase "butt cheek" in my blog. I'm pretty sure it's the first time I ever used such a phrase, and the fact that it tickles me a bit only reinforces my "Oh Lord help me" thought that in less than a month I'll be the mother of THREE BOY CHILDREN.

And now, just in case you're not the parent of a tweenager and are still wondering about the title, I leave you with this:

The REAL Reason That Men Want Boy Children...

It has nothing to do with carrying on the legacy of the name and everything to do with the toys.

Yes, the toys.

When The Tweenager was born, Diva Husband was rightfully proud. He created custom cigar wrappers with the little man's picture on them. He bought the child a Fisher Price Power Wheels truck before the kid was even old enough to sit up on his own.

When we welcomed The Manimal, I have to admit, I was hoping for a girl. You know, the classic boy and girl family. The Tweenager would have a little sister to torture protect, and she would have a big brother to admire.

All was well, though, and having two boys turned out to be economically sound. With just over five years between them, bikes and toys were handed down with little wear. Now, looking at life with three boys (in just a little more than a month, if all goes as expected), I've come to realize that I will actually be the mother of FOUR boys.

The fact that I'm actually MARRIED to one of them is irrelevant.

This is the Power Wheels truck that was handed down from Big Brother to Little Brother (as driven by Little Brother, aka The Manimal).

I feel compelled to point out that this was LAST summer, and technically it's Power Wheels, Version 1.2 (AFTER the DH modified the engine and added a turbo setting).



Yes. He modified the engine. Of a Power Wheels truck

Apparently this is not an uncommon thing for big boys dads to do, as there is an entire website devoted to modifying the Power Wheels Vehicles. My DH discovered this site, and now? The red Silverado Power Wheels that served both The Tweenager and The Manimal so well?

Is now a Custom Police Interceptor. With real police stickers, flashing lights and a siren (none of which, sadly, are visible or audible in this video).



Of course the boys love the fact that their dad is not only a big kid at heart, but is pretty daggone handy.

And DH is fairly giddy with the knowledge that he can continue unashamedly playing with toys for one more child.

Super Powers

(image source: http://thefastertimes.com/comics/files/2010/02/justice-league.jpg)

Did you ever get to a time in your life as a parent where you're pretty sure you "got" your kids? I mean, I'm always up for a surprise, but I was feeling pretty sure about my kids.

I know my kids.

I know what they like and what they don't. I know how much sleep they need and when they've had more than enough computer time or television time and need to go outside and shoot a few hoops.

I know their behavior quirks.

Or at least I thought I did.

Recently, they've been using their powers for evil less than good.

The Tweenager (The Boy Formerly Known as Sweet Son #1) has been using his power of super-hearing to his advantage. Of course, what he may think of as "super hearing", I prefer to think of as "selective" hearing, sometimes called "selective deafness".

A conversation might go like this:

Me: "Tweenager, please feed and water the dog."
Tweenager: OK.

Ten Minutes Later...

M: "Tweenager, Princess needs food and water."
T: OK.

Another ten minutes passes...

M: "Why is the dog scrounging in the pantry?"

You get the picture.

Or sometimes I ask him to empty the dishwasher, one of his regular chores. Of course, I make the crucial error of not making him stop what he's doing, look me in the eye and repeat my request back to me.

Silly me.

And don't even get me started on The Manimal's powers.

For one thing, he is able to turn into the World's Sweetest Child less than two seconds after he's just thrown a shoe across the room and managed to hit The Tweenager right in the extremely-sensitive-spot-that-only-boys-have.

Me: "Manimal! You stop that right now! That's not nice!"
Manimal: "I love you so much, Mommy!"

Uh-Huh.

He's not even secretive about his powers. Last night after a fall-on-the-floor-screaming-hysterical temper tantrum, we were talking about good behavior.

He informed me that he only had "Bad Boy Powers" right now. And that he used his "Bad Boy Powers" when people didn't listen to him. I tried to explain that he should use his Big Boy Words and Powers instead of throwing a fit.

He told me he would have to buy some "Big Boy Powers" from the good Droids.

Uh-Huh.

So I told him that if he didn't get some big boy powers and stop using his naughty boy powers, then Daddy and I would be forced to use our "No More Lego Star Wars Power" and possibly our "Spanking Power".

Where is the Justice League when you need them?

Where's Nancy Drew When I Need Her?

We've decided to rename our youngest, the one you all know as The Manimal. His given name is one we like very much, but recent events have led us to give him a more, well, appropriate name.

Hector.

As in Hector the Collector.

Allow me to elaborate. Last night, around 9:30 pm, Diva Husband discovered that Crackberry phone was missing. We searched high and low, indoors and outdoors, calling his phone from every other phone in the house. Over an hour was spent looking for the dang thing phone.

All to no avail.

So I called TeeMobile and asked them to check for outgoing calls in the last four hours (thinking that perhaps Princess the Wonder Dog had developed opposing thumbs and was calling her boyfriend Dan the Man Labrador), then asked that they put a restriction on all outgoing calls until we rectified the situation pleaseandthankyouverymuch.

Fast forward to this morning, as I was getting The Manimal his clothes for school. I discovered a blue shopping bag in his secret lair bedroom and just for fun, I checked it out.

And there it was, in all its Blackberry glory.

Along with a computer thumb drive, an empty $25 Visa gift card, a small (but very expensive) magnifying glass and a flashlight.

When I confronted our little perp about the contraband, his simple response was that "Daddy wasn't in his office."

Uh-huh. Case closed.

Now that the case is solved, you can go read about another odd item finding. My bloggy buddy The Original Octamom discovered that one of her kiddos has been experimenting with cryogenics. Thank goodness we live many states apart, because I don't need her kiddos giving The Manimal ANY help...

Turbo

The Diva Husband is a great DIY guy. He replaced all of our carpet with bamboo flooring, installed new lighting, ceiling fans and custom audio throughout the house. He builds furniture, paints and landscapes.

But sometimes? I think I married Tim Taylor.

Remember him? "MORE POWER!" was his mantra. Between Tim and three boys, Jill Taylor didn't stand a chance.

Yesterday, I came home from work to find Diva Husband and the boys outside playing. We have a red Fisher-Price PowerWheels truck that was SS#1's when he was small, and The Manimal has certainly gotten our money's worth out of it since then. If you're not familiar with the PW vehicles, they allow the kids to "drive", courtesy of a 12 volt battery.

Just enough power to make them feel like they're really going somewhere, yet slow enough that Mom and Dad can still keep up with them.

Until Tim Taylor took over my husband's body.

Our cute little red PowerWheels truck?

Two words...

MORE POWER!

High Praise

So we've really been working on potty training The Manimal.

Who am I kidding? Diva Husband, being home all day with the child, has really been working on potty training The Manimal!

At any rate, things are moving right along. Literally.

We've discovered that the kid has a thing for Hot Wheels cars, so every time he poops in the potty (we've pretty much conquered peeing, except at night), he gets to pick a new "poopin' car".

Yesterday, he pooped in the potty not less than FOUR TIMES. And each time there was substance.

I've heard of cases where children exert their control by choosing to/not to pee or poop. I've never heard of a situation where a child actually SPREADS OUT his poop so he can get more cars.

In related news, I was...ahem, using the facilities when said child walked in and started chatting (Yeah, I'm a mom. There is no privacy in my home.). He asked what I was doing.

"I'm pooping, Manimal. Is that OK?"

"Oh, yeah. Das good. Pooping in da potty is good."

We acknowledged that pooping in the potty was in the words of the Domestic Diva herself, "a good thing" and I completed my business.

"Lemme see da poop, Mommy."

He checked out the toilet and said, "Good job, Mommy! I berry proud of you!"

Cereal Serial

This morning I stopped by the grocery store on my way to work to pick up some milk and bread. The milk was a loss leader at $1.99/gallon and the bread was on sale for 4 loaves for $5. Living in a house of boys, we go through a LOT of milk and bread. Usually 2-3 gallons and a loaf a week.

We also go through a lot of cereal. All three of them eat it almost every morning. DH can down half a box in one sitting and SS#1 is running a close second. The Manimal mostly likes to pick the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms.

I hadn't planned on buying any today, but it was on sale too. Four boxes for $10. Around here, that's a pretty doggone good deal.

And then I saw the sign:

"When you buy four boxes, the cost is $6"

SIX DOLLARS?

Be still my heart.

I had to find a clerk to double check my amazing find. I mean, it was like I was the only one seeing this bargain. Surely my little family can't be the only one that inhales cereal (or picks the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms) like it's their last meal.

Sure enough, four for $6! I bought eight boxes. Then I stopped after work and bought eight more.

I figure it should last a month if I'm lucky. Stay tuned!

Knowledge is Power

The Manimal knows his body parts. ALL of his body parts. As two year-old boys are wont to do, he expressed curiosity about his...uhm...male parts.

The following conversation took place while changing his diaper one day:

Manimal: "Mom, whas dis?"
Mom: "That's your penis."
Manimal: "My peanuts?"
Mom: "No, pee-niss."
Manimal: "Oh, my pee-nuss."

The next diaper change went like this:

Manimal: "Mom, dis my pee-nuss."
Mom: "Yes, it is."
Manimal: "Papa have pee-nuss?"
Mom: "Yes he does."
Manimal: "Nana have pee-nuss?"
Mom: "No. Nana doesn't. Only boys have a penis."
Manimal: "Oh, only boys. Mommy, you have a pee-nuss?"
Mom: "No, Mommy's a girl."
Manimal: "Oh, girl no have pee-nuss."

Since then, EVERY subsequent diaper change goes something like this:

Manimal: "Dis my pee-nuss. Papa have pee-nuss. Nana no have pee-nuss. Daddy have pee-nuss. Girl no have pee-nuss. Only boy have pee-nuss."

At least he hasn't asked about the dog. I'm not really prepared for inter-species body part discussions.

Male Pattern Blindness

So, like many of you, I have several males in my life. After many hours of painstaking observation, I wanted to share an amazing discovery I have made. All males, regardless of age, share an affliction. Male Pattern Blindness. There is no other logical explanation for what goes on in my home, and others like it across the country.

Allow me to share.

My darling husband, on his days off, has been known to grab the cordless phone, stand in front of the refrigerator, and ring me at work to ask me where the ketchup is. And I, being the person who put it away each and every time prior (another male syndrome to be addressed at a later date), can tell him with compass-like accuracy the exact coordinates where the ketchup is currently residing.

I know this is consistent throughout the gender. My sweet son #1 cannot, as a general policy, find his gym shoes in the morning even though we have a firm rule in our house that the gym shoes, backpack, and jacket go by the door before he goes to bed. This in, in part, because "by the front door" is such a vague term. In my mind, "by the front door" is a specific location, limited to approximately two square feet of space near the coat hook.

His interpretation is a bit broader, of course, and extends to the entire 24 square feet of the entryway, including underneath the hall table. He also doesn't share my seemingly logical assumption that said gym shoes should be placed together. So, of course, when he goes to look for the shoes, they may be under a table or separated in some fashion. Needless to say, this arrangement, in combination with his gender bias toward Male Pattern Blindness sets him up for almost certain failure in his search for shoes.

I hold little hope for baby son #2.

Cheers!