The No Good, Very Bad Day

Each of us has had those days where, no matter how you try to change it, it still ends up awful. Kids are no different. Sometimes even they can have really bad days. Soren had one of those this week.

Ever since Soren hit his fourth birthday, we seem to be dealing with a regression on behavior and tantrums. Why? No fucking clue. Nothing has changed except how many fingers he holds up when someone asks how old he is. But something clicked in his miniature human brain that tells him to throw out of control screaming and crying fits over the smallest thing.


It's driving me batty.

We parental units have been consistent in calming him down and reminding him to use his words, not his volume. Once calmed down he nods his little head in understanding and says that he will. And he does....for ten minutes.... on a good day.

But today the shit just hit the fan, and while it is only 12pm as I write this, I am seriously debating on whether or not to just put him to bed until tomorrow. It may save both of our sanity.



This morning I had a play date set up with two of my mom friends and their kids. Soren has grown up with these kids since he was born, and they are all great friends. We see each other usually once a week if not more. All the kids get along fantastically, and there are rarely any issues. Oh sure, there will be a scuffle here and there over the ownership of some random toy, or tattles if someone isn't taking turns. But usually they work it out with a little bit of help from one of us moms.

I don't know what was any different today, if anything really was. We had a decent morning with no issues. There was no foreshadowing of the epic disaster that followed. Soren was excited that his friends were coming over. And when his friends arrived and trooped up the stairs, Soren was there with a big smile on his face to greet them. All of the kids headed to the toys while we moms hung around the kitchen table in full view, drinking coffee and catching up.

Five minutes later there was this ear piercing scream and wailing coming form Soren. I ran over to him, thinking that he was dying. I grabbed him, held him close and asked what was wrong. He hit his ear on the "Stupid recliner". I checked his ear (it was fine), gave him hugs, kisses, and cuddles, and let him know that there were no cuts, bruises, or blood, and that he would survive.

Well he was having NONE of that!!! Oh no! He was DYING! And he needed his BLANKET! And I had to go get it. And I said, no hon, you can get it. And he flipped out.

Stood there in the middle of the room and screamed bloody murder. I just looked at him until he ran out of breath, and before he could ramp up again I nudged him to the stairs. He went, begrudgingly.

Once all was calm and the kids were happy again, the moms turned back to their coffee. We had about two minutes before the screaming began again...from Soren, of course.

This time it was because he decided that today was "Soren's Day", and that meant that he had first choice of all toys, including the ones his friends brought over. Naturally, his friends took issue with this. I would have too. So I told him that he could share and take turns, but that his friends brought those toys. He also had to share his toys. Soren declared "NO! IT IS SOREN'S DAY!!!! I GET TO CHOOSE!"

And screaming commenced when I pulled the mom is boss card.

Next he started a full out fit because his friends were playing with his toys. The ones he was not playing with.

Then,  while all of the kids were playing nerf swords, he threw his sword ( he says accidentally) it smacked one of his friends in the face, causing his friend to cry. Which caused Soren to start screaming and crying. And wouldn't stop screaming and crying even after apologizing and his friend forgave him. And so, after roughly 90 minutes of non stop meltdowns, I just sent him to his room for a break to calm down. He stomped up the stairs screeching and gnashing his teeth, and continued this tirade long after his banishment.

I joke often about drinking during the day, but today was one of those days that I was seriously eyeing the vodka bottle on my kitchen counter and wondering how good it would go with my coffee.

My friends kids wanted to know what was wrong with Soren. So I sat down and asked them if they ever had one of those days, where nothing seems to go right, and it feels like a very bad day. They nodded their little heads sagely, and told me of some of their bad days. I nodded and said that like them, Soren was just having one of those no good, very bad days. And that everyone has them, even people in Australia. They understood, and as they left, they hoped that Sorens day would get better.


Me too, kids. Me too.

Battle of the Bedtime

It is after nine at night as I begin to write this. I am sitting here on my recliner with ears intently tuned to the upper floor, where my boys are *supposed* to be sleeping. But they seem to have other plans.


The townhouse we have lived in for the past three years has four bedrooms. One is on the bottom floor and is used as J's office since he works from home. The other three are on the third floor. Ashe and Soren share a room together. Most nights getting them to bed is simple. Soren goes up an hour earlier, and by the time Ashe heads to bed, his little brother is passed out to the world. But on nights where the bed time gets wonky, we sometimes deal with repercussions of two boys sharing a room.

Tonight is one of those nights.

This evening we had a meet the teacher event at Xavier's school. The whole family went, thinking it would be one of those events where you wait to say hello to the teachers then take off. We got there early with the mindset of getting home in time for bedtimes. Oops. Instead, it was a walk through of my oldest sons class schedule, and we sat down for presentations of each class. Half way through, the younger boys were bored out of their minds, so J took them out for ice cream while he waited for Xavier and I to finish.

We didn't get home until eight, way past Soren's regular bedtime, and close to Ashe's. I gave them a few minutes to unwind, then we did our bedtime routine. As I kissed them goodnight I admonished them to behave and go to sleep...no playing!

"Yes, Mommy", they replied.

I headed downstairs, grabbed my laptop and started catching up on email.

(giggle giggle *thump thump* giggle)
I roll my eyes and raise my voice to be heard on the third floor. "BOYS! GET TO BED!"

Silence.



(*thump thump* giggle giggle)
"BOYS!!!"

Silence.

(*thump thump CRASH* little whispers of "SHHHHHH Mommy will hear us!!")

Sadly, I eye my laptop with longing, put it down, and quietly, so as not to give them any warning, I tiptoe up the stairs and into their room. Soren is in Ashe's bed, and the moment he catches sight of my shadow he leaps up and sails across the room into his own. I swear that boy's feet never touched the ground he was moving so fast.

I glared at both kids, Ashe with his eyes shut so tight I thought he would burst a blood vessel, trying to make me believe that he is already asleep, and Soren, wide eyed, watching me warily the way a cat watches a strange dog.

"Boys, it is late. You have got to get to sleep. I'm serious. Stay in bed and no more playing. Am I clear?!"
"Yes Mommy" they say.
I look back and forth between the two of them for a moment, making sure that they understand that I am serious, and then I head back downstairs. I pick up my laptop and wait for the inevitable.

 

(giggle giggle *thump thump* giggle shhhh)

Rolling my eyes and sending silent scathing curses to the ceiling, I tiptoe up the stairs, this time with my laptop in hand, and enter the room. The moment I round the corner both boys fly out of the closet (which is their play fort), leap into the air, and land on their respective beds faster than an Olympic sprinter could even dream of achieving. Despite my annoyance, I was impressed, and began to wonder if I should begin training them for 2020.

We look at one another, boys wide eyed, waiting to see what I will do. I, trying to stare both of them down at the same time, which is only a feat a parental unit can accomplish. I win as the boys lower their heads in shame, either from the fact that they disobeyed, or from the fact that I caught them red handed. Most likely the latter.

"I am not kidding around tonight" I say in a low voice that makes them both lean forward to hear me and lean back into their pillows, knowing that the low voice is a voice to fear. "You two will lie down, and stay in your beds. I do not want to hear another word from you. Now get to sleep!" I glare as the boys scurry under their covers, and close their eyes tight. Sighing, I sit down on the floor by their door, open up my lap top, and prepare to play warden for awhile.

All was quiet as I surfed the web. Over time, the squeaks and shuffles of the twin beds settled, and I thought after a good twenty minutes, that they had finally fallen into a peaceful slumber. Being tired of a long day myself, I heaved a sigh of thanks to the ceiling again, and slowly, silently, made my way downstairs. I sat back into my recliner, closed my eyes, and reflected on the day.

(*thump thump thump* giggle giggle SHHHHHH *thump*)

 

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!!!

Racing up the stairs I find Ashe and Soren jumping from one bed to the other, whispering and laughing as quietly as they possibly can. They didn't even hear my footsteps, this time I was not even bothering to be quiet, they were too intent on their fun.

As soon as they spot me I swear I heard a muttered "oh shit". Oh shit is right you little heathens. You want to play bed time battle? It is on!


"SOREN INTO BED NOW! ASHE, INTO MY BED NOW! If you can not get to sleep in the same room then I will separate you!"
"No Mommy, no! We'll behave, we promise!"
"You had your chance! Ashe, into my bed right this instant!"

Soren begins to sob as he realizes his partner in crime is now off to do time in another cell and he will be all alone. Ashe, taking on his role as martyr, stoically picks up his blankie, and slowly walks into my bedroom, head held high. It is the ultimate punishment for bedtime battles and he has realized that General Mom has won this particular round.

And yet.....

 

 

 

At this point in time I am exhausted, both physically and mentally. All I want to do is to have my kids in bed and asleep so that I can enjoy just a little bit of free time before I have to start it all over again. I make my way down the stairs, look around the living room, and glance lovingly at the recliner I have been rudely interrupted from for the past hour. I sink into its delicious comfort, snuggle into my spot, kick up the ottoman, and sigh.





And then I shit you not, the next thing I hear is (thump thump thump thump thump). Back and forth, back and forth, across the upstairs hall.


Despite my aggravation I am beyond curious as to who is idiotic enough to still try to escape my hearing, and risk the wrath of mom. And for what?! What could possibly be so damn important to risk it all?

Slowly, I creep up the stairs, keeping low to the ground. I take no chances of having my shadow show before I do. I tread lightly on the stairs, knowing the squeaky spots of each board, and gliding silently passed. The thumping continues, pitter pattering of little feet, racing to accomplish some goal before the end of the world as they know it. But what?

I turn the corner, slouched down like the Grinch on Christmas Eve and peer before me. The hallway is clear, and I am about to rise up when Soren dashes out of his room, racing pell mell for my darkened bedroom, arms filled to capacity with stuffed animals galore. He is bringing his banned brother contraband goods to keep him company at night.

I pop up just as he races by, to where he leaps three feet straight up into the air with a squeak! If his eyes could have gotten any bigger, I swear they would have fallen right out of his head. The moment his feet land back onto the ground he begins to wail, great heaving sobs of despair. Because he knows that he has lost.

Without breaking his song of sorrow, Soren slowly trudges back to bed on his own, gets under the covers, and turns his face to the wall.





It's now ten and I have not heard from them since. I think I won the war, but I doff my hat to Ashe and Soren. It was a hard won battle and they were very worthy opponents. And it took almost all of my parental will power to not laugh out loud at some of their outrageous antics this evening.

Quiet Time

Now that the two older boys have started up school, I have been trying to get Soren and I into some sort of routine for the passing hours. And while I have tried to instill a time for Soren to rest, it has only been this year that I stumbled across the perfect way to get Soren to nap. He stopped napping the moment he turned two, and over the past two years, every time I tried to get him to lie down, it has been met with fierce resistance. This causes him to either get grumpier the later it gets, creating a maelstrom of attitude and tantrums in the later day, or for him to pass out once in a blue moon, comatose until dinner. I hate when this happens because it means that he won't sleep at bed time.

But I have finally found the combination that works for both of us. And let me tell you, oddly enough, we both look forward to this part of the day.

With Xavier arriving home much earlier than before, Soren and I have less time in the day to go out and do things. This actually makes things easier for the both of us, as we can fit stuff in without getting bored, or having too much time to waste in front of the tv while I try to get things done. So now, every morning after carpool, Soren and I go out. We go to the library once a week, hit the playground when the weather allows, go kayaking, hiking, head over to G-rents and swim, or just run a few errands with the promise of a treat.

Once we get home, we pick a crafty thing to do: paint together, color, draw, play dough. We have fun sitting at the table, making our own crazy creations. Then we have lunch together. And after lunch we have Quiet Time.

For Soren, Quiet Time is the only time during the day that he gets a chance to watch something on tv. He picks a show or movie, grabs his Angry Birds blanket, a few stuffed animals, and cuddles up on the couch. My three rules for Quiet time are: no food, he must lie down, and we try to keep as quiet as possible. I'll sit down on the recliner beside him and use that time to blog, read emails, or surf the web. And so far, most of the time, Soren falls asleep within 30 minutes. If he doesn't we keep it going for 90 minutes, but it's only been once a week that he has stayed awake.

He's usually still napping when Xavier arrives home, giving me time to help with homework or talk about my oldest son's day without interruption. By the time Soren does wake up, he's refreshed, happy, and didn't sleep so late that it affects bed time.


Sometimes you find yourself fighting tooth and nail to find a quiet moment in the middle of the day. And sometimes, if you're really lucky, you find a technique that works for a child. Trust me when I say that I have tried this before and it did not work for Xavier or Ashe. But for Soren and I, this scheduled Quiet Time is working to both of us.

Soren after 20 minutes into Quiet Time this week.

Pretty Little Pottymouth

I'm  curser. When I'm out with my adult friends I could make a hardcore sailor blush within three minutes. I minimize my potty mouth around the kids, but I readily admit that sometimes I fuck up. In order to cover my arse, I have taught my children the golden rule to swearing:

Swears are adult words. One earns the right to swear by reaching the wonderful age of 18.

For the most part, my kids get it. Xavier does not swear, but does ask from time to time if certain words are adult words or accessible to him: like crap, suck, etc. I tell him it totally depends upon the context. If you want to say this sucks, I'm ok with that. However, yelling "You suck"! at the computer (or the G-rents) is not acceptable.

Ashe never swears. When he is upset, he opts for the simple use of volume, and screams so loudly that it is a wonder we have not yet used our savings to purchase new windows.

Soren, on the other hand, is still learning. And once in awhile, I find myself doing three things at once;

• slamming my head against the wall for being an idiot and swearing once too many times for Soren to parrot back what I say
• Informing Soren that, while his use of verbal insults has been used in the proper context, he is still not old enough to use said curse word for another 15 years
• laughing so hard at his little boy voice pronouncing "fuck" so perfectly, that I begin to cry

 

 



A couple of weeks ago our kitten Bax went missing, as she sometimes does. She refuses to meow when she is stuck somewhere, instead believing that at some point in time, her awesome family will find her. Either that, or she is just thrilled in her little feline way, of finding a good spot where she can hide from the boys antics for a few hours.

When the kids realize that Bax really is missing, everything stops and all three boys go a hunting. Up and down three flights of stairs they yell "BAX! OH BAAAX! WHERE ARE YOU??!" until they open up a closet door and find her hiding behind the Christmas tree, purring away.

This time, I was sitting on the couch with J, reading a book, while the boys were hunting for their feline companion. Up and down the stairs, up and down. I wasn't paying them much mind until I heard this little voice ask in exasperation "Where is that fucking cat?!"
"Soren!" Xavier gasps. "You can't SAY stuff like that!"
"Why not? Mom says it all the time."

I slowly lifted my head up from the kindle and sheepishly peeked over at J. Who was, of course, giving me the look of death.


My fault.



Not too long after, while the older boys were in school, I was sitting on the recliner catching up on the news while Soren played with his plushies quietly on the floor beside me. In each hand he held a Mario and a Luigi doll, and was pretending to make them talk to one another. This is fairly typical in our house so I wasn't paying too much mind to the actual conversation until it was too late.

Mario: Oh Luigi, what shall we do today?
Luigi: I don't know Mario. Hey let's check on Princess Peach
Mario: OK... (silence for a moment)
Luigi: Hey?! Where is Princess Peach?! Was she kidnapped again?
Mario: What the fuck...?


"SOREN!"
Looking up with an Oh shit look: "Yeah mom?"
"What did you just say?!"
"Ummmm... nothing. I wasn't talking."
"I just heard you."
"Oh no, mommy, that wasn't me. That was Mario!"

Ahh yes, that foul mouthed Mario, who just realized that his girlfriend has been kidnapped yet again by that asshole Bowser. Of course it was him and not perfect little Soren.


Yup.


And then there was the most recent incident.

Friday afternoon my mom dropped the boys off at home after a week of fun at her house. One of the first things Soren told me was the Ashe had insisted that he said a bad word, but he promised he didn't.

"Oh yeah" I say?
"Yeah Mommy. Ashe said I said shit, but I didn't."
"Well I'm glad you didn't say that word", I reply, trying very hard to keep a serious face to match his own.
"Nope, I didn't say shit. Ashe is a liar. I was mad that he said I said shit. Cause I can't say shit until I'm 18. Right?"
"Right" I respond, losing the war of the straight face. "And do you remember why you can't say those kid of words until you're 18"?
"Because they are grown up words. And I will be a grown up at 18."
"Correct."
Soren tilts his head to the side, considering his next words carefully. "Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Can I say shit when I'm 17?"
"No, honey. Not until you're 18."
"Dammit."




I can't wait until these kids have kids of their own.

Saved by the Eldest!

Told to me by my mom:


Soren runs up to G-ma and asks for a back scratch. She complies. A few minutes later:

Soren: Ahhh, that feels good. Now scratch my arms. (She complies).

Soren: Ok, now scratch my legs. (Which she does. As she is scratching his legs, Xavier wanders downstairs).

Soren: That feels sooo good! Now... scratch my penis.
(G-ma has NO clue how to respond to this and stares, flabbergasted, until Xavier, with an annoyed look on his face responds.)

Xavier: Do it yourself!
Soren: Oh.... ok!


G-ma saved from an embarrassing convo!

Soren's Bum Woes

The other day, after returning home from a doctors appointment, Soren and I were hanging out in the living room. I was reading a book while he poured over youtube videos of Agry Birds. Suddenly he turns to me.
"Mom, my bum hurts."
"Your bum hurts, huh? What kind of hurt?"
He starts to scratch his arse. "It's itchy."
"Ahh," I say as  I hop off the couch and head over to him. "I think we can fix that. Let's go wipe your bum and see if that helps."
"No Mom," he says "that won't help. I think I need to go to a bum doctor."

Soren's New Hat

I blame J for this.....



Soren has a new hat. Soren tries to wear his new hat all the time at home. Soren thinks its a complete riot that I frantically try to rip it off.


I think I have a right to......

Yup, it's his underwear. And he thinks that he is just the funniest thing in the world. Especially when he sees my face drop in horror when he comes out wearing his new "hat" after he went potty. because, lets be honest folks, how well do you think he really went on his own? I'm pretty sure a drip or two missed the toilet and was sponged up by Buzz Lightyear.

Minding Manners

One important lesson that we teach our children daily is manners. It's easy enough to teach them the words please, thank you, and you're welcome. But the lesson in interacting with strangers and using our manners can be tough. Many times you just want to do it for them instead of forcing the kids to use their manners. But what does that teach them aside from the fact that manners are optional? In our household it's not. And sometimes, when I would rather be rushing home to relax after a long day of errands, I find myself dealing with a sobbing kid who wants his star stickers but didn't want to say thank you. Like last Thursday, for example.

After 2 hours of being out and about, Soren and I were tired. We had dropped J off at the airport for a business trip. That was hard to do because Soren always gets weepy when Dad goes away. Next, we headed to the craft store and nabbed a bunch of cool Angry Bird crafts to keep Soren entertained. A quick run to my makeup store and then we headed to the library to borrow more books.

At the library, Soren has signed up for the summer program. Each time he brings books back, he gets a star sticker to put on a paper hanging up on our fridge. Each time he borrows more books he gets another sticker. And each time he visits the library desk he gets another one. This day we did all three and he was set to get three stickers, which he was very excited about.

However, everything fell apart when I told him to say thank you to the librarian when she handed him the stars. Instead of saying it, his whole body went rigid, he looked down at the ground, and smushed his little lips together. Soren refused.

I looked down at him and quietly reminded him that we use our manners. The librarian was so nice to pick out three cool stickers for him and it was his job to be polite and say thank you. His little body scrunched in on itself and he remained silent.

I got down on my knees and told him, very quietly, that if he could not use his manners and say thank you, he could not keep the stickers. He looked away.

So I took the stickers, gave them back with an apologetic smile and said that it looked like we wouldn't be needing them today. The librarian looked at me dumbfounded, then slightly nodded. I said thank you, and picking up Soren, I walked to the door.

Once outside, he started to tremble in my arms, so I found a bench in the shade and sat down, where Soren began to sob. I held him in my arms and rocked him while he wailed for awhile. After about five minutes he started calming down enough that I could talk to him.

Soren: I SO SAD!!!
Me: I know you are. Do you know why you're so sad?
Soren: BECAUSE I WANT MY STICKERS!!!
Me: I bet you do. You were so excited for them. Do you understand why you didn't get them?
Soren: CAUSE I DIDN'T SAY THANKS YOU.
Me: Yup. Manners are very important. When someone does something nice for you it's important to say thank you. But even when I gave you a few chances you wouldn't use your manners.
Soren: I SORRY! I WANT TO SAY THANKS YOU.
Me: You do? I think that would be very nice.
Soren: YEAH. I GO SAY THANKS YOU NOW?
Me: I think that would mean a lot to the librarian if you did. You know, you have always had the power to have those stickers. If you say thank you, you can have them. But if you don't say thank you, they stay here. It's all up to you.
Soren: OK. I READY TO USE MY MANNERS.

So we wiped his tears away, and he bravely walked back into the library. I found the librarian and told her that Soren wanted to tell her something. Surprised, she walked over and got down on her knees. Soren looked up at her and said "THANKS YOU!" and smiled. She smiled back, big and bright, and rushed over to the sticker jar, where she grabbed three very shiny special stickers just for Soren.

He placed those stickers on his paper at home with great care. And I hope this will stay in his memory the next time I ask him to use his manners. While it was tough, the boy did good, and I'm very proud of his decision.

Time Out For Toys

On Monday last week, I had a situation that both scared the shit out of me and hurt like hell. I had the whole day planned out. I was going to drop the kids off at the bus stp, come home and ride my exercise bike, shower and dress, then head out with Soren to a friends house. After, we would stop somewhere cool for lunch, then hit Target to grab a few items we needed at home.

Instead, after I dropped the kids off at the bus stop I started feeling nauseous. Next thing I knew I was bent over the sink, throwing up so hard that my muscles went into convulsions, which cause a massive burst of pain to hit from my base of my neck all the way to my forehead. The pain was so god awful I literally fell to the floor and couldn't get up for a good five minutes.

I tried calling out for J, who was already in his office downstairs with the door shut, but I couldn't call out loud enough. If Ashe or Xavier were home, they would have known to run for Dad instantly. Alas, it was only Soren with me.

While I sat on the carpet, trying to will the pain away enough for me to crawl downstairs for help, Soren came over and patted my shoulder, asked me if I was ok, and when I couldn't answer, he looked around the room with a frown on his face. The next thing I knew he stomped off, grabbed his toys one by one and said "BAD TOYS! YOU HURT MOMMY! TIME OUT FOR YOU!!!"

He proceeded to put two train tracks, three stuffed animals and a mini angry bird figure on the step landing (where we have our time outs) all lined up and looking contrite. Well the stuffed animals did. The angry bird looked a little pissed.

And while this isn't exactly the correct thing to do in an emergency situation, and I know that we'll be learning what to do if mommy gets hurt and no one is around this week, it did help me enough that I could mentally chuckle, which them gave me the strength to hobble downstairs for help. So that you Soren, for that touch of comedy.

It looks like I'm alright. We think I just pinched a nerve or pulled a muscle. I stayed home that day and rested, and J popped up often in case he needed to rush me to ER if it happened again. Fortunately it didn't. I'm ok, just a touch sore now. And irritated since I have to push back all those things I wanted to get done for another day.

Soren's Nothing

Every child had a favorite lovey that they carry around with them, holding it up to show everyone their precious, expecting ooohs and aaahs of adoration for their beloved that they believe is deserved. For most kids it may be a cherished stuffed animal, or a blankie. Soren had a blankie which was his ultimate prized possession, but lately he has changed gears and has a new favorite.

It's his Nothing.

What is a Nothing? Exactly that. But it's his and he carries it around with him wherever we go, showing it off to whoever is nearby.

We'll be sitting on the couch and Ashe will run up to us to show us his newest Lego creation. After we ooh and aah, Soren runs up and yells "Look at my nothing!!!" and proudly shows us his empty hands while grins like a Cheshire cat.

Getting ready to pop in the car each kid always asks to bring one toy. Xavier wants the iPad.Ashe wants a stuffed animal. Soren brings his....nothing.

Knowing toys can't be on the dinner table, Soren starts giggling midway through the meal. When we ask him what's so funny, he bursts out laughing and says his nothing has been on the table this whole time.

The only time its caused issues is when he loses his nothing. Trust me, it's happened. And when that happens, how the hell do you find that which does not exist? Yeah, I don't know either.

COCK WITH ME!

Listening to little kids as they start to navigate the way of words and talking is one of the most entertaining times of having kids. It's probably my all time favorite thing about toddlers and preschoolers. And three kids later, Soren has yet to disappoint.

In the past few weeks, Soren has gone from trying very hard to say one or two word sentences, to having full on conversations that one can follow. We now have three kids who can debate and argue us and each other. And while my head does start to pund a little sooner in the afternoon, it's fun to watch the conversations flow. However there are a few words he has trouble with.

Obviously he can't say Xavier yet, so Soren has given his oldest brother his very own nickname: Yay-yay. I've found myself accidentally calling out Yay-yay instead of Xavier or Zavi once or twice. The funny part is that Xavier answers to it without batting an eye.

Soren uses Xavier's namke as his testing ground for other words. If a word is too hard he'll tell us "No, too hard, like Yay-Yay. I can't say it." And that's that.

The other funny thing Soren has done on his own, is to try and learn a new word per day. But ONLY one! If you try to teach two words a day he freaks out and says " I ALREADY learned new word today!!! That word for tomorrow!"


Adding all of these together, Soren has made SRM history in saying one word so wrong that I have been equally laughing my ass off and embarrassed when we're out in public. For the word talk, he says cock. And it has made for some funny moments.

When our car was having apocalyptic fits, I had to take the kids with me all over kingdom come to get it fixed. And there were many times that we sat in waiting rooms while we waited for a diagnosis, or new tires, or a new valve. And every time we would sit there, Soren would yell to me at one point or another "MOMMY, COCK WITH ME!!!" "HEY MOMMY, I'M COCKING TO YOU!!!" You can't make this shit up. And of course, every time he made these statements it would be a Volume 11, in a room filled with older adults, and every eyebrow would raise an inch or three and look back and forth between my and my tiny two year old, waiting to see my reaction.

While inwardly I had a moment of cringing, it never failed to make me laugh. Then I'd try to teach him the correct way.

Me: Soren it's TALK, not cock.
Soren: NO! TOO HARD, LIKE YAY-YAY. 'SIDES, I ALREADY LEARNED NEW WORD TODAY. WILL YOU COCK WITH ME?
Me: Soren, I am talking to you. Hey, you know what? It's not really a hard word. I bet you can say it. Say T.
Soren: T
Me: There you go! Now try Ta
Soren: TA
Me: Awesome! OK now, try talk.
Soren: COCK! COCK COCK COCK!
Me:.... Almost. Let's try again
Soren: I SAID IT! I SAID COCK!
Me: Yeah.... I know. But it's talk. Tah.
Soren: (in a very serious stage whisper) I already learned new word today. We try again tomorrow, ok?

Traditions

Every family has their own special traditions that they follow for certain things: some families always get together during specific holidays. Maybe a special food item is always made. Maybe everyone wears a color coordinating sweater.
 For my household, we follow a special tradition for the boys birthdays, that started when we moved down to NC. We always have a blue frosting cake from Harris Teeter, because it dyes everything it touches blue, including when it comes back out. Yes, people, I'm talking poop.

 I realize how weird this sounds. I blame my friends for this tradition. When we celebrated Ashe's first birthday here, we had no clue about the blue frosting and it's long lasting hold. I was naive when I purchased giant blue frosted cupcakes to serve at his little party. It wasn't until every child in my dining room was being wiped down with zero results on fixing the smurf like faces, and the massively blue diapers that followed for days after, that I realized this blue frosting was serious shit. No pun intended.

It became a joke amongst my friends who were there at that first party. Anytime my boys had a birthday coming up, they would ask if I'd have the radio active frosting cake. And just to lovingly tweak their noses, I made sure I did. And soon it became the tradition we follow for every birthday party.

Soren's birthday party this past weekend followed tradition. We had not one, but two cakes this week with the freaky frosting: one for his actual birthday and the other for the party. The boys fingers are still blue. Most of the same friends from Ashe's first party came with their kids, baby wipe packages in hand and ready for action, laughing all the while.

While it was still cool in the morning hours, the kids played outside with bubbles, balls, hula hoops. and baseball bats. The parents drank soda, talked about gaming, Dragon Con, and stats. Yes, many of my friends are gamers too. And then we sang happy birthday to Soren, and I cut the cake. I also, still have blue fingers.

Traditions come in many shapes and sizes. Some you don't even expect to create. They happen on their own, and have a way of becoming a part of who your family is.  While we don't wear color coordinated sweaters (And please shoot me if we ever do.... no offense to those of you who may call that your own) our own traditions mean something to us. They make us laugh, and remember special times in our lives that are meant to be celebrated.

Harris Teeter, don't ever stop making that radio active blue frosting. And thanks for helping us make a cool tradition to follow for each birthday.

Happy Third Birthday Soren!

Dear Soren,

Today is your third birthday. You have been on this earth for 1095 days. And in that short time you have turned my world upside down, rocked it, and I could never imagine life without you.

Thank you for everything that you are. You are an AMAZING person, and you continue to amaze me every day we share together.

I love the fact that you can say the word Massachusetts, but you still yell out "COCK WITH ME, MOMMY!" in public, because you can't properly say the word "talk" yet.

I love the fact that you are an avid Angry Bird fan, and you have mastered many levels on your own without my help. Honestly kid, I suck at that game, and appreciate the fact you don't hound me when I tell you I can't help you unlock a new level.

I love the fact you willingly potty trained for M&M's almost a year ago, and you still think you should get chocolate every time you pee.... even if you don't make it.

I love the fact that every time you do go potty, you hop around in frantic circles in the living room yelling "PEE" while you try to get your pants down in time.

I love the fact you still have a furry fetish. At last count I believe you are up to 46 stuffed animals, 23 of which are puppies.

I love the fact you can now say "I wuff you, Mommy". I've been waiting for that moment ever since you were born.

I love that you can keep up with your brothers and sometimes even put them in their place. Just try and be careful not to bounce too hard on their faces when you wrestle them to the ground and sit on them to keep them there. If you break Ashes glasses again, I'm not going to be happy.

I love that your favorite food is broccoli and you even want it for breakfast. Sometimes I wonder if you're actually human due to that little quirk, but I'll take it.

I love the fact that you can count up to twenty but you freak out if I try to sing to you the Alphabet Song. Although to be fair, you freak out when I try to sing ever. You know kid, my voice isn't that bad. I can actually sing in tune.

I love the fact that each night that I tuck you in, you insist that I tuck you in "Pirate Style" arrrrh!

There is so much that I love about you. But most of all, I love seeing you happy, curious, determined, and loving your family. You are so loved and cherished by us all. Thank you for everything and keep it up. This year has been so much fun. I can't wait to see what you have in store for us this year.



     Love with all my heart,
                          Mom

Die

Soren has finally exploded in his vocabulary, for which we parents are truly grateful. for the most part. There are definitely some times where we really wish he wasn't picking up words and phrases so fast, as well as wishing he was not the youngest of three boys. Because we have learned that his brothers are both the best and worst teachers for him.

I could sit there for hours, repeating a word to Soren and he wouldn't give me the time of day. But anything out of the mouths of Ashe or Xavier, and Soren is doing his damndest to mimic each syllable.

So when both Ashe and Xavier started making fun of Dora, Soren's favorite show, I tried to keep on their butt about it. I knew Soren wold start picking up some of the phrases the boys would use to bond in their brotherly way. And I was right. Because despite my high end efforts of stopping it from happening, Soren came up to me recently and told me that Dora and Boots die. And then he giggled and ran away.

I had hoped that maybe he was just parroting back the phrase I heard Xavier and Ashe snicker to each other quietly, hoping I wouldn't hear. (When will these boys learn I hear everything?) But again, my hopes were dashed when not long after, Soren was playing wit his toy Mario on the table and it fell off the ledge. Soren looked up at me and said "UH OH, MARIO DIE!!!". Great. Just fucking great.

So now I have to sit the little tyke down, and try to explain the difference between a toy falling and death. Thanks boys. Thanks a million. By the way, you're both grounded the next time I hear the word die out of your mouths.

Baby & the IPad

Soren has a baby. It's a mini stuffed Yoshi that he's been carrying around for months and coddling like an infant. Baby goes almost everywhere nowadays. Soren hit that phase where he wants to be a Daddy and care for a baby. So Yoshi gets changed, bottle fed, diapers, and carried around in Sorens shirt (or pants if we're not paying attention) like a baby carrier.

But Baby also seems to take the fall for Sorens, ahhh, misadventures. It seems anything that goes wrong is Baby's fault.

Me: Who spilt the milk?
Soren: Baby

Me: Who didn't flush the toilet?
Soren: Baby

Me: Whose underwear is lying in the middle of the living room???
Soren: Baby's.

One morning, Ashe and Soren (along with baby) went upstairs to play. I took advantage of the quiet and started catching up on blogging. Five minutes later, Soren came down with a sad look on his face.
Me: Hey buddy, what's up?
Soren (sigh) Ashe, Ipad, baby, no.
Me: Ashe won't let baby play the Ipad?
Soren: Yeah
Me: Well dude, Baby doesn't have fingers so it might be pretty hard to play the Ipad. Do you think maybe *you* want to play the Ipad?
Soren: No, baby.
Me: Ahh. well, baby is too little to play with it and he has no fingers. Sorry bud.

Soren wanders off grumbling about the lack of rights to baby stuffed animals and how oppressive it is in this regime.

Bedtime Theatrics

Kids are smart. And very, very diabolical. They know how to straddle the boundaries of parenting rules, push those buttons, and they laugh while doing it.

Take bedtime the other night:

J & I alternate bedtimes. This particular day was a HORRIBLE day for the kids and by the time dinner was finished I knew that I needed a break. Fortunately it was J's turn to put them to bed, so I grabbed my earplugs, plopped on the couch and ignored the fam while catching up on the Daily Show via Hulu. I barely noticed the boys heading up for night, I was so desperate for non child time. I did give them each kisses goodnight, but then turned right back to Jon Stewart.

After bedtime routines were complete, J wandered downstairs to his computer. I kept my ear plugs in.An hour later, caught up, I removed my earplugs to hear elephants dancing upstairs. The boys were NOT sleeping. Instead, it sounded like they were having a pagan festival shouting and dancing, along with numerous THUMPS that I would pay a good amount of money to bet that they were launching themselves off the bed. I'm sure they made a game of who could jump furthest.

Normally, if a parent puts the boys to bed the unspoken rule is that parent is also responsible for going upstairs and telling them to knock it off. But J hadn't shown himself since bedtime. I am guessing he also needed to escape and threw his own headphones on.

I tried to ignore it as long as I could. But by 9:30 with no fatherly intervention, I decided to deal with them. I sidled off the couch and started creeping up the stairs, trying to catch them unawares. But despite my stealth, I stepped on the third step, notorious for creaking. And while I would have thought the rumpus upstairs was loud enough to cover that tine squeak, the boys sometimes amazing hearing abilities (you know, the abilities they get when they know they're doing something wrong, but are deaf any other time of day?) kicked in. The next thing I hear is two year old Soren going "SHHHHHH! Ashe SHHHHHHHH!" a flurry of feet running, and then silence.

I open their door not a moment later. The light is on, the room is trashed, there are pull ups EVERY WHERE. And there are two little boys, "sleeping" peacefully, tucked in their matching covers, eyes closed. Soren is even trying to snore.

I smell bullshit. But... it was funny as hell. Trying as hard as I could not to burst out laughing, I said "You aren't fooling anyone boys. Go to sleep!".  They resisted acknowledging me as they continued their theatrics of sleeping angels and I closed the door.

I told J they needed more acting lessons if they wanted to pull that stunt off, but I have to admit, for amateurs in the theater business, they stayed in character.

Why?

Shoot me now. Just get it over and done with. I promise, I'll thank you in the afterlife. Because we hit a new stage with Soren, and I remember how god awful it is when I went through it with the other two boys.

Soren has learned the word "Why".

Now, a part of me is excited with any new word he learns, seeing how it took him forever to start talking in the first place. I should be rejoicing that he has added new words to his list of vocabulary and can say more than bum, peepee, etc. But why did he pick up why? Dammit, WHY????

Soren has been shadowing Ashe and copying everything he does. Ashe says why a lot. But now I've got this parrot. A typical conversation goes like this:

Me: Ashe and Soren, it's time to pick up the blocks.
Ashe: Why?
Soren: Yeah, why?
Me (bashes forehead on nearest hard surface)


I wouldn't mind it as much if it were used frugally. But no, ANY time a word pops out of my mouth the instant response is "Why".

Me: Soren
Sore: Why?
Me: Flower
Soren: Why?
Me: Bathtime
Soren: Why?
Me: Butt
Soren: Why....(giggles)

I fucking hate this stage.

Soren Learns New Words

We have reached THAT stage in our house with Soren: the one where he knows his body parts, can say them, and certain ones he loves to say often and loudly. We've reached the crisis point too, because unlike the other boys, he has two older brothers who find this new found language hysterical, and Soren will do ANYTHING to make his brothers laugh.

It's great to see your little ones start to recognize body parts along with their own sense of self. But I swear I am going to bash my head on a wall if I see Soren saunter out of the bathroom one more time bare assed, grabbing his penis and loudly saying "MOM! PEE PEE! YEAH PEE PEE!!"

It's a hard balancing act, to try and not make your child feel that any of their body parts are taboo, while also explaining that grabbing ones crotch and calling it out so anyone in a three mile radius can clearly hear them is not a good idea. And it becomes harder when you have a 5 yr old and 9 yr old, who love potty humor, are sitting their laughing so hard they have tears streaming down their faces at each loud declaration of penis happiness.

And even I have to admit, the voice Soren uses when he does this is freaking adorable. He uses this bay like high pitched sound that makes the word pee pee sound really cute. I wish I could record it and post it here. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!

The point is, I am up to my ears in pee pee talk. I both love it and hate it for their own reasons. And I get through this knowing that it won't last, Soren is learning new words, and I will use this to embarrass the crap out of him when he brings home his future girl friends.

Boys and Bandaids




I realized I made a mistake long ago and never bought stock options for band aid makers. I could have made a fortune if this past week was any indicator.

This past weekend Soren was eaten by the end table monster. I don't know how. I assume that children are made of 1/3 Play-Dough, and can contort their bodies into various ways we adults can only imagine. Our end table is fairly solid, and looks like a mindless piece of furniture. But when you combine a two year old and an inanimate piece of furniture I can assure you that anything goes.

Consider the extreme sport of couch jumping. This is a household favorite, and many of the boys friends eagerly await an invitation to our home so that they too can join in. The only reason couch jumping is allowed in my house is because my floors are covered with soft "almost white" carpets, and it gives me a good reason to reinforce the fact that *I* am NOT a playground.

Or toy box hopping. In case you're unfamiliar with this sport I'll give a brief explanation. This is when your child dumps out all of the toys in the toy box, contorts his tiny body into shapes never taught in geometry to allow himself to get in, and then proceeds to "hop" the toy box from one end of the room to the other.

So I am quite used to the weird happening in my house when you have small folk and objects in the house. Their ability to make the impossible possible is uncanny. Hence, I don't even question the end table incident. All I know is that one moment Soren was happily playing beside me, and the next his fingers were caught in the maw of the end table.

It took me two frantic minutes to rescue him from the end table monster, the whole time screaming for J for help and trying to calm Soren down so I could maneuver myself around to try and save him. I admit it was one of those scary moments. I could not figure out how he got his hands caught in the first place, and how to remove his fingers without further damaging them. I drank a lot that night.

I finally freed him and the poor boy had two gouges on his fingers. One wasn't too bad, but the one on his middle finger was deep. Fortunately it wasn't too deep to require stitches but I paid close attention to it for the following week. After rinsing his hand in cold water to reduce swelling, and cleaning it out, I gave him two band aids and a popsicle. He was content, but still shaken, and spent the rest of the day super glued to my side which I could totally relate to. I wanted him close by as well.

But the band aids! Oh. My. God. You have to understand I have a giant box of band aids from BJ's since I have three kids, all rough and tumble boys. But I think I went through at least 3/4 of the box this week alone. Not because they needed changing, but because Soren kept losing them! It was like every 5 minutes something would happen to make those damn things fall off. I tried everything, from adding more on, doubling up, even taping them. I came close to pulling out the superglue. No luck. And Soren flipped out if one fell off. On the bright side, he learned a new word: booboo. He would screech it day and night indignantly the moment a band aid fell off. In the end I started carrying a mini first aid kit in my pants pocket so I wouldn't have to make a trip to the band aid box every 15 minutes. I do believe that there is now a permanent trail depression in my "almost white" carpets from the couch to the kitchen where the band aids are kept.

Yesterday, when (another) one fell off, I finally put my foot down. The cuts look clean and are healing up nicely. I told him now his booboos needed clean air in order to heal the rest of the way. He gave me a sideways look but conceded to moms authority. I thought that was the end of it.

But now he's asking for band aids for his 427 stuffed animals.

Lesson Learned

Having been a parent now for almost ten years, I've picked up on a lot of tricks of the trade. And yet I always find something new to learn, something I really wish I had thought of before I am stuck in a situation where I want to smack my forehead for the lack of foresight.

This week I had one of those moments.

 And so, my dear friends, I wish to offer you some advice. Please take this suggestion to heart, so that you may never find yourself in the situation I faced.

Always carry a container with a lid in your car. Don't let what happened to me happen to you.

Here's what happened:

• At 3pm the other day I woke Soren up for his nap like I always do.  We wandered down stairs and as I always do, I asked him to go potty. He said no.
• At 3:10, I asked him to try before we went out for carpool. He refused. Idiot that I was, I didn't force the issue.
• At 3:15 we were all strapped into our seats and pulled out of the driveway to pick up Xavier.
• At 3:25 we entered the school yard and pulled into the carpool lane.
• At 3:26 eight more cars pulled up behind us, essentially locking us into place.
• At 3:28 I hear a tiny voice in the back seat call out "Mom? Pee." I look around the car for something in case of emergency, but I had recently cleaned out the van. I turned around to Soren and told him he would have to wait.
• At 3:30 I heard a voice, a little more insistent: "Mom? PEE!"

"Dude" I say, "I asked you to go potty before we left! There are no potties here and I have nothing for you to pee in. You're gonna have to hold it."
"No, Mom, pee. Pee pee pee pee pee!!!" He starts to whine and writhe and I realize he is desperate.

 So am I.

 And despite the fact I had already searched the car, I popped out of my seat and started searching more frantically. There has got to be something, anything I can use! How many times have I bitched about having so much trash and cups in the car, and here I was, the ONE time my car is spotless and I need that trash more than ever. I have nothing to use, no cups, no bottles, no....wait a minute. I slowly turn my head towards the front of the car, aware that in my peripheral vision Soren is starting to do the potty dance more vigorously as he chants the word pee louder and louder. I tune him out for a moment, formulating a plan. Because I have one thing that might work. It's a desperate plan, but this is a desperate moment. There is no place for him to pee outside. It's all fields and 50 cars lined up with other moms and dads and little kids and I can't let him pee on the school road but maybe I could use......

That's my portable trash container I keep on my shift. I have no clue if it's, umm, "water" proof, but I do have a bunch of napkins in my glove compartment. I wonder if I can stuff those in to absorb as much liquid as possible.

I whisk it off the shift handle and rip open my glove compartment, grabbing fistfuls of napkins while Soren starts to wail. I shove the napkins in, race to unbuckle my boy and start praying to anyone who cares to listen that the lady who takes down our carpool numbers does not show up for another 5 minutes. Because I just don't want to explain this scene.

Pulling down Sorens pants, I open the lid and shove it under him just in time as he explodes. He pees for a good 60 seconds. After his torrent trickles down, the two of us heave a giant sigh of relief. I clean him up, check for leakage, and pull out the baby wipes to grab any misfires. We survived. I buckle him back in, and tell him that next time he WILL go potty at home or he will be grounded until he's 32. He nods.

I sit back down in my seat when I realize that it's a little fragrant in the car now. I open the windows and pull our my portable febreeze (love that stuff) and start spraying the shit out of my portable container. And then we spent the next ten minutes in carpool, trying to ignore the mixed scents of urine and lavender, hoping my trash container would not leak.

So folks, take this story to heart, and learn from my mistakes. The next time you want to moan about your trashed vehicle because of your kids, instead, think of me, and thank your lucky stars you have a trashed vehicle. Because one day you may be thankful. And always, always, bring a container with you that has a lid. You just might find yourself needing it one day.