VILE BEAN!!!

I gave Luke Beanies & Weenies for lunch yesterday (wow, spell check didn't have a problem with that??)

I now have one more item to add to my long list of things NOT to feed Luke until he's in college.

He picked out all the weenies and painted the table with the beanies. And the bean juice (I don't know what else to call it) dried up and turned into this flaky, powdery crust. It covered the table, the chair and most of his body. As if that weren't bad enough, I still had to give him lunch! Three pieces of weenie just wouldn't cut it. The quickest fix is a PB&J sandwich. This would also be on "the list" if it weren't such a convenient way to fill the hole on that kid.

Suffice to say, I ended up getting a mess on top of a mess.

I got my revenge, though.

As you might have expected, bean juice is amazingly resilient. It took quite an effort to scrub the stuff off of Luke's face and body, his skin turning a lovely shade of pink as the minutes wore on. Halfway through, he started kicking his legs and squirming.

"No! Help!!"

At which point I affected my best villainous tone...

"No one can save you now, Child! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa!!"

Then, the torture continued as he was forced to watch his sister (once again) drinking out of his cup. He was still strapped into his booster seat, helpless to stop her.

"Noooo! My pee-pup!!" (<-- Toddlerese for "sippy-cup")

I considered explaining to the boy that, had he not thrown his sippy on the ground to begin with, Evie never would have gotten a hold of it. But, somehow, I'm afraid the logic would be lost on him.

"NO, Evie!!!"

Finally, the amusement wore off and I intervened.

I'd like to hope he learned his lesson...but I wouldn't bet my bean juice on it.



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WARNING: To avoid danger of suffocation, keep this plastic bag away from babies and children.

I've read this warning on grocery bags before and rolled my eyes at the stupidity of the American consumer. Frivolous law suits have nearly ruined the common sense of this nation. "Warning: Hot Coffee" can be found on every McDonald's coffee cup. "Do Not Ingest" on a bottle of toilet bowl cleaner? Thanks for the warning! That was starting to look mighty yummy...

What insanity!

So, naturally, I didn't think twice when Evie was playing with a plastic grocery bag.

It's just a plastic bag! I mean, what are the odds that she can actually open it up and get it over her head in just the right...WHOOPS!

I turn around for one minute and the child is wearing the bag like a death mask. I can even see her little mouth, open and gasping for air as the plastic sucks into it.

I grabbed it off her before she was in any real danger but it was still a scary thing.

So, the next time you see a senseless warning label, you can thank people like me.

I'll be waiting for your call...


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Little Cupcake Video

Evie - eating her birthday "cake"....

Sweet Awakenings

Luke woke up early this morning. Not by much...twenty minutes, maybe. But I savor every precious second in my big warm bed, so twenty minutes is an eternity. I tried ignoring him but he was getting louder with every moment and I was afraid he'd wake Evie up as well. Bedlam would surely ensue.

And I like to put off bedlam as long as possible.

So I got him up and brought him back to bed with me. I'm not sure what I was hoping for. Surely, I'm not naive enough to think he would curl up with me and go back to sleep. And I'm not delusional enough to think I could actually continue to doze while a 30 lb child jumps on my chest.

Let's just say I was...optimistic. I'm a sippy-cup-half-full kind of girl.

He actually did lay under the covers with me. For all of ten seconds. Then, the boy got up and began pulling the covers off of his poor, cold mother.

"Get up, Mommy! Get up!"

Actually, it was more like "Eh up, Mommy" but when I put it into context, I managed to puzzle it out. Why, stick a pipe in me and call me Sherlock!

Just as I was about to throw a pillow at the interloper, he crawled up to my face and gave me one of the sweetest kisses I've ever received.

His face is so fresh and bright in the mornings. His lips are so soft and pink.

I can't think of a better way to start the day.


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Where Luke is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the mornings, Evie is all crust and grogginess.

Clearly, she takes after her mother.

It just takes her a while to get going. And she's more than happy to be cuddled first thing in the morning, as well...which is like manna to my poor heart. Most of the time, Evie just wants to walk. She walks laps around the interior of the house. She walks laps around (and under) the kitchen table. She walks from one kitchen cabinet to the next, committing to memory the ones that are locked and the ones she can plunder. I'm not sure if there's any point of the day that she's conscious and NOT walking. If we had carpets, you would surely be able to see the ruts.

She knows when you're about to pick her up, too. She's must see it in your eyes as you walk towards her. If you're walking by her to get to something, she doesn't even twitch. But if she senses that you are going to grab her up, the child scrambles like a mad-baby to get away from you.

This morning she was drinking from Luke's sippy-cup. In a perfectly calm tone of voice, I told her "No, Evie. That's Luke's sippy." And then slowly (as not to spook her) I stood up.

I've never seen her move so fast.

She threw down the sippy-cup with a clatter and dashed away from me!

What did she think I was going to do to her? I've never spanked the child. I've never put her in the corner or disciplined her with anything more than a firm "no"....

She wasn't afraid of punishment. She was afraid of getting picked up!

I'm trying not to take it personally...

Home is Where the Milk Stinks

You know you're behind on housework when you go to dump a glass of milk into the sink and nothing happens.

(...pauses for effect...)

On a related note, can I just say that I hate the term "housewife"? It's demeaning and degrading and a thousand other bra-burning exclamations that I won't bore you with. I didn't marry the house. I'm not an accessory to the house, like a house-plant or a house-fly. And, let's face it, if I were married to the house, we'd be in couple's therapy by now. And it would probably end in a tragic and messy divorce.

People would come for a visit...

"I just love your house."

"Oh, we're not together anymore."


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On a completely unrelated note, I've finally figured out the perfect way to get Luke to "open up" when I brush his teeth.

I yell at him.

Right in his face.

Not a loud, angry yell. Just a sustained noise, loud enough to make him smile. In no time at all, the kid has his mouth wide open and he's yelling back at mommy. And I have all the time in the world to brush those molars.

Last night Evie joined in as well.

She was walking around his room (yes, that's where we brush) and came right up to us during our shouting match. She was so cute, blinking up at us with such innocent curiosity. Then her little mouth opened and she started yelling like a pro...matching our pitch almost perfectly.

There we were, all in a circle. Yelling our heads off at each other.

Imagine what the fly on the wall must think.

...or the neighbors.

I hope they're kind enough to mention his extra white smile when they gossip about us.



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The truth is out!

I've always suspected that my kids were diabolical sneaks. Now I have proof. At the tender age of twelve months, Evie has been caught pink-handed!

I was watching from across the room as she played on the kitchen floor. Sounds innocent enough, right? I noticed she had something small in her hand and was swinging it around playfully, having no apparent interest in consuming it.

After a few minutes of observing, my better judgment kicked in and I went over to take the UFO (Unidentified Finger-clutched Object) away from her. The second she saw me coming over, the little stinker shoved that thing in her mouth faster than you can say "choking hazard." Fortunately, mommy can sprint when the occasion calls for it and Evie only managed to get half of it in her mouth. Turns out it was just a piece of plastic wrapper....not very dangerous unless strangely textured poop causes you some kind of mental anguish....and, really, it just fascinates me so there's no problem.

Anyhow, ummm...what was I talking about?

Oh, yes! Sneaky children.

I can't think of an example for Luke's sneakiness right now, but I'm sure there are plenty. He does have issues with gratitude, though. Just this morning he came up to me and pointed at the foot of his sleeper-pajamas. It was askew.

"It broken!"

"Oh, you want mommy to fix it?"

"Fix it."

So, being the good mother I am, I made the adjustment and smiled at him. Only, he was no longer there. He was running off to play, while yelling at the top of his lungs:

"I did it!!"


Little stinkers...


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