Prom Spectacular Revisited

Sprite's Keeper has asked folks to spin the prom this week, and since I did a pretty amazing prom post last spring and it was so well received amongst my friend in real life, I though I'd throw it back up at ya.  Gloriously 90s photos included. Here you go.


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All of my proms were with Nelson, my now husband. Our first prom, his Senior Prom, was in the glory days of 1994. You will recall this year's music charts sported hits such as Bump'n'Grid by R. Kelly; Shoop, By Salt'n'Peppa (still on of my faves); numerous melodies by Ace of Base; and the amazing Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, Mmm by timeless great Crashtest Dummies. But, what reigned supreme for us in those days was grunge - Nirvana, Perl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Smashing Pumpkins. These bands make up the soundtrack of my high school years. So much guitar, so much angst, so much dirty hair and smudged eyeliner.

Nelson and I hadn't been dating long when he invited me to his prom, and he invited me just two weeks beforehand (nice one, honey.) I was pretty excited, as I was only a sophomore and it was a big deal for sophomores to go to prom. My mom was even more excited than I was. It only gave me two weeks to find a dress. I loved it. It was black, with a gauzy skirt with little beads hanging down where the bodice met the skirt. My hair was red (of course). I re-dyed it the day of the prom, so the color would be fresh.

On Nelson's parent's front porch, May 1994:

LOOK HOW THIN WE ARE!!! Check out my wrist corsage, hahahaha! Also, note to 1994 Jenni - that center part so dose not work for you, girl! What were you thinking? Ugh, and that red hair completely washes you out.

In my mom's kitchen:

Look how thin my arms were! And my itty bitty waist! I wasn't actually able to get the boutonniere on. My mom did it for me after we posed for the photo.
In 1996, I took Nelson to my Junior Prom. This was a much bigger deal, because I actually had time to find a dress. And find a dress I did. My Junior Prom dress was my FAVORITE DRESS of ALL TIME. I hope to be able to squeeze my ass into it again someday, with the help of HASAY and SPANX.
Although, I loved my dress, I made a major hair error. I had an up do, finger waves. My mom (a former hair dresser) did a great job, but the look was just not good for me. Too severe.
Here we are, in our "professional" prom photo, circa 1995:
How fucking hot is this dress? I mean, OH MY GOD it was the hottest dress at the prom that year and I'm only partially kidding. Look at the key hole opening! And that slit! And could it be any slinkier? Look how flat my stomach was. After two kids, it's going to cost me a lot of money to get it to look like that again. See what I'm saying about the hair? It just didn't add to the look. And again with the hilarious wrist corsage! Do people still wear those things? And look at Nelson's hair! LOOK AT NELSON'S HAIR!


Okay, my third and final prom. My Senior Prom, 1996. The theme was a Midsummer's Night Dream and our "song" was In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel. It was kind of anti-climactic since I'd already been to two proms, but we shared a limo that year with my BFFs Christie and Christian and their dates, so it was pretty cool. Our dates had all already graduated two or more years prior to the prom. We were those kids. I asked my mom to make my dress. She did a great job, but for some reason I decided to wear a white dress. Actually, I think I wore a white dress because my mom told me all the girls at her high school wore white to prom and I though that was cool. But I was so ghostly pale the white did nothing good for me.

In front of my parent's fireplace:

See what I mean about the white? It washed me out. Again with the center part, and check out my roots. Classy. But not as classy as my SHIMMERY HOSE. And a Jenni/Nelson prom would not be complete without a wrist corsage. You can't see my shoes but I promise you, those babies were totally dyed-to-match.

This last photo is of us getting into out limo. I only posted it so you could see the lush forest I lived in and my parents' hawt cars. The one at the top that you can just barely see is my Dad's '72 El Camino SS. I used to drive that thing, you guys, really I did! It was AWESOME. The one at the bottom of the photo is my mom's 90-something Trans Am. That's right. My mom drove a TA.

They both still own these cars, but no longer drive them.

So, there it is. The Jenni and Nelson Prom Spectacular.

It's a Cookie Puss!

Things continue to be a bit gloom and doom over here.  We got the news the preliminary recommendation for Nebo is euthanasia and the procedure is tentatively scheduled for this Saturday.  We get confirmation on Wednesday; because it is a no-kill shelter, they take euthanasia very seriously and Nebo's case will go before a board who will make the final decision.    I also got confirmation that Nelson and I will be permitted to be with Nebo, and for that I am grateful.  I am very glad that the last thing he sees will be the two people he loves the most and that the last thing he feels is how much we love him.

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My brother turned 28 yesterday.  I made barbecued chicken, grilled corn, and a green salad at his request.  It was delicious.  We finished the meal with a Cookie Puss and I felt like I was back in 1985.  I was totally feeling the urge to peg my pants and watch Footloose.  It was a great celebration and great fun, which we really need around these parts.

Oscar was enthralled by the Cookie Puss.  A cake made out of ice cream?  All that brightly colored icing and gel?  Oh, the kid was salivating, even after I allowed him TWO ice cream cones.  At one point, he was hovering over the cake with his mouth open, getting ready to just bite into it.  We had this conversation:

"Oscar.  Are you going to bite that cake?"

"Yes!"

"What do you think is going to happen to you if you bite into that cake?"

"Uhhh...time out?"

"That's right. You will get a time out. Go see MeMe and she will give you a bite of her cake."

So, then he just sat there, hovering over the cake, mouth open.  You could see he was weighing his options: Bite the cake and suffer a time out or don't bite the cake and don't get a time out?  Would the bite of cake be worth it?  Would I really give him a time out? Would a bite of someone else's cake taste as good as sinking his teeth into the big cake?

Ultimately (thankfully) he chose to have a bite of MeMe's cake and spare himself the time out, but it definitely took him minute or two to decide.  I can't say that I blame him.  It was a damn good Cookie Puss.

Surrender

We surrendered Nebo to the animal rescue on Saturday.  He is no longer living in our home and he will never be returning.  As some of you may recall, he has become increasingly difficult over the past several months and things came to a head Friday morning when he bit Oscar on the arm.

The bite was entirely unprovoked; Nebo was lying on the floor (not sleeping) and Oscar crouched near him to pick up a book. Nebo casually leaned over and bit him.  No warning growl, no nothing.  It happened so fast I nearly missed it.  Oscar cried out and stood up, holding his arm, "Nebo bited me on my arm!"

I'm very thankful that it was not a bad bite.  There were red marks on Oscar's arm, but they faded quickly and left no bruises.  But I knew in that moment that Nebo had to go.  The bite was not bad, but what if the next bite (and I'm certain there would be a next bite) were bad?  Was I really going to wait for that, for him to take a chunk out of one of my kids?  Or out of someone else's kid?  No.  I couldn't.  All I could do was remember what our dog trainer had said, that after five bites a dog is a biter and there was nothing you could do to change that; you could only try to prevent the dog from biting.  Oscar was Nebo's fifth bite.

I called the no-kill shelter where we adopted Nebo, and they were very understanding.  They said that I absolutely should not keep a dog that had bitten my child.  That I should not feel guilty surrendering him.  That it was the right thing to do.

The shelter's animal trainer/behaviorist called me today and she and I spoke for more than 20 minutes.  I told her how much we love Nebo; that we think he is a good dog and could do well in a home with no children.  That I could not wait for him to hurt my kids.

She was incredibly kind and understanding and reassuring.  She was also very sympathetic as she herself had to put down a dog for aggression several years prior, and she is a professional trainer.

"I understand.  Just because a dog bites or becomes aggressive does not mean you don't love that dog and feel sad to see it go."

I told her all we'd wanted was to give him a good life.

"And you did.  For five years you did."

She was also very apologetic.

"I'm just so sorry.  It's not fair.  No one should have to go through this, and I'm just sorry we adopted out a dog that was aggressive.  It's not fair to the dog and it's not fair to you."

She also told me that the rescue organization's animal behavior department is much more sophisticated now than it had been five years ago, and that she would have never put a dog of Nebo's age and temperament (over three-years-old and very anxious and shy) up for adoption.

Nebo will be evaluated sometime early this week and that, along with some other factors, will determine if can be re-homed.  If he cannot be re-homed, he will be put to sleep, a decision not taken lightly by this no-kill shelter.

We briefly considered trying to re-home him ourselves but with his history, I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't give him to someone else knowing he may bite again.  That would not be fair to anyone.

Oscar.  It has been hard with Oscar.  Yesterday morning, he was helping me feed Valentine.

"Hey!  Where's Nebo?  Where's his white bowl?  Where's my brown dog?"

"Remember, Nebo went to live with a new family? [shameless lie to our 3-year-old] He took his bowl and his hedgehog to his new home."

"But I love my brown dog!"  [He started tearing up, oh my god.]

"I know, and I love him too, but he wasn't a happy here so we had to send him to a new home."

"Oh.  This is not the perfect home for Nebo?" [Yes, he really said this and yes, it killed me.]

"No, buddy, it's not.  He went to a new home where he'll be happier."

"Were you crying last morning 'cause you miss Nebo?"

"Yes, buddy, I miss him very much."

"Me too, Momma.  I miss Nebo."

It's HEARTBREAKING, but we don't want Oscar to know that Nebo is leaving because he bit him; and that is not really why.  Biting Oscar was the last straw but not the only reason we surrendered him.  We surrendered him because we decided the house was just not a safe place as long as he was here.

In many ways, this has happened under the best possibly circumstances.  No one was seriously injured; it was my own child who was bitten and not someone else's child; he did not have to be removed by animal control; he may still have a shot at being re-homed.

It breaks my heart.  I do not want Nebo put to sleep.  I didn't even want to get rid of him.  I love him.  But, I love my kids more and creating a safe home environment is more important than trying to keep a dog who bites my children.  Letting Nebo go has not been an easy thing, but it is the right thing.

We've asked to be kept informed about Nebo's case and if they choose to put him down, Nelson and I have requested to be there with him when it happens.  That won't be easy either, but we owe him that.  He was our dog and we love him.

Weaned

Miles is officially weaned and I'm really sad about it.  He'd cut down to just once a day (at night) and would only nurse on one breast.  He has a lot of teeth and (unfortunately) was not afraid to use them.  He's been nursing less and less, some nights not at all.  It was too the point where he'd nurse greedily if I offered it to him, but he was no longer asking to nurse.  So I stop offering.

It's been more than a week.  I was a little itchy and uncomfortable at first, but it wasn't too bad.  Mostly I just feel sad.  I decided that if  Miles asked to nurse, I would let him.   He did ask once, when he woke up at night teething, but since I night weaned him months ago, I refused.  And since then, nothing.

I have to admit that part of me was really hoping that he'd ask to nurse again and I'm disappointed that he just let it go so easily.  Not that I wanted to fight with him over it; I guess I'm just not entirely ready to be done breast feeding Miles.  He's been such a good nurser and he so lovely and cuddly.  From that very first latch, he's been a champ.  He would cling on to my shirt and gaze lovingly into my eyes as I nursed him, occasionally breaking his latch to grin at me.  When he was an infant, he'd take these big swigs - you could hear is gulping the milk down - and he'd heave this huge sigh when he finished.  It is also just really gratifying when your body can nourish your baby like that, and they love it so much.

After two days of no nursing, Miles attached to a little, stuffed bunny.  It's already ragged beyond recognition.  When I was reading about toddler weaning, the article said that if the child suddenly attaches to a blanket or stuff animal, that's a sign they've been weaned too early.  So that makes me feel awesome.

Anyways, that it.  I'm sad, a little guilty, but mostly sad.  My baby is growing up and I'm just not quite ready.

Jealous Momma

I've got a post up about being jealous of Miles and Oscar's awesome grandparents over at DC Metro Moms.  Check it out. Go!  Now!

RTT: It's cold and I'm tired so it is what it is

Where for art thou, Random Tuesday?  Oh, you're right here.


*It's cold here. AGAIN.  And raining.  AGAIN.  I've had it.  I'm officially ready to begin complaining about the heat.

*I'm going to book club tonight!  I've not quite finished the book, but I think I'll finish it today.  I can't wait to hang around with grown ups and talk about things other than bodily functions and peanut butter.

*Oscar woke up at 2AM last night.  I think maybe it's his two-year molars.  Which I thought he already had and apparently was wrong.  Being that I'm not a dentist, this is not too surprising.  Anyways, he wanted to come into our bed and I allowed it because he was in a lot of pain.  He wasn't sleeping and was tossing and turning and I guess he went to sleep at the bottom of the bed.  That was a bad idea on his part as he fell off the bed and onto his face.  Commence disgustingly loud *thump* of toddler face hitting the floor and very loud shrieking.  After we calmed him down and got him some water, he was all, "Is this cup making a circle?  This is a circle, a circle, A CIRCLE! I love circles.  It's a circle!  A CIRCLE"  And I was all, "I'm too tired to understand the word circle.  Please stop saying circle." So, that's where I was at 4AM. (He's fine, no worries. He just really likes circles.)

*There was recently a two-day long, 30 message exchange on my community listserv about how to dispose of dead squirrels and birds.  It got heated.  About dead, wild animal disposal.  Really, neighbors?  Really?

*In my haste to shower before my kids woke up, didn't get all of the shampoo out of my hair this morning so it looks greasy and dirty.  So unfair.

*I forgot Oscar's birth date.  I though it was on June 16.  Like, I was really, really certain of it.  Wrote it on the calendar certain.  It's June 14.  Flag Day.  Miles is December 16 and I got all confused. How's that for awesome?  Oh, and he's asked for a jump rope and a robot cleaner for his birthday.  He's getting a scooter.

*I just taught Miles how to ribbit like a frog.  Dead cute. (Spell check does not recognize ribbit.  Am I spelling it that incorrectly?  Someone tell me how to spell "ribbit.")

*We took the boys to a working farm this weekend and they LOVED it.  Miles was smitten with the chickens.  Oscar was smitten with all food we never let him eat, like hot dogs and s'mores (chocolate AND marshmallows) and potato chips.  It was very fun.  Except for the part where Oscar stayed up until 10pm.  Thanks, HCFs!  Thanks a bunch.

Okay, head to Keely's and check out some other Random Tuesday Thoughts.  Tell her double chin my double chin says "Hi."

Conversations with a Preschooler, #2

Scene: Oscarelli family kitchen.


Jenni: Oscar!  Guess what!  We're going to Xavier's house today!

Oscar: We're going to Xavier's house?

Jenni: Yes.

Oscar: And to Pam's house?

Jenni: Yes, and to Pam's house [Pam is Xaiver's mother]. Are you excited?

Oscar: Oh, yeah!

Oscar wanders out of kitchen for a few moments; returns.


Oscar: Does Xavier have another mom?

Jenni: What?

Oscar: Does Xavier have another mom?

Jenni.  Oh!  No.  Xavier has one mom and one dad, just like you have one mom and one dad.

Oscar: Oh.

Oscar wanders out of kitchen again; returns shortly thereafter.


Oscar:  But does Danny have another mom?

Jenni: Yes.  Danny has two moms.

Oscar: Oh.

Jenni: Who are Danny's moms?

Oscar: Monica and Susanne!

Jenni: Right.  So, Danny has two moms.  And you have one mom and one dad.  And Xavier has one mom and one dad.  And some families have two dads and no moms.  And some families have just a mom or just a dad, like Nora's family.

Oscar: Umm...Okay.  Are we going to Xavier and Pam's house now?

Jenni: Yeah, we're going.

Rough

I had a rough day yesterday.  Nothing really exceptional happened other than cleaning up a lot of other  people's urine, but I was jut having trouble dealing with the every day.  I was tired and sore and just grumpy.  Not a good combination, particularly not to deal with a high energy toddler.

Oscar and I were at odds yesterday.  Like I said, it was nothing exceptional.  His behavior was not especially bad or annoying, but my attitude was so poor that I was easily frustrated.  It started when he woke up and had peed the bed.  It was one of those bed pees that soaks every thing - mattress, sheets, down blanket and duvet.  It was a whole lot of pee for 6:30AM.  A two loads of surprise laundry (my least favorite kind) on top of the several waiting desperately to be washed.

So later, when Oscar had a pee accident for the first time in more than six weeks, I reacted badly.  I was angry with him.  I didn't yell at him, but I was not calm and reassuring, as I should have been.  And when he had another accident later in the day, I was even more angry because he'd peed on the bathroom rug..  Again, no yelling, but I'm sure it was obvious that I was annoyed that I had to clean up the bathroom floor and the bathroom rug and change his pants yet again. Really, the poor kid was trying to get to the potty and just couldn't get his pants down, so not at all his fault, but I was just in a mood.  When I finally took a minute to talk with him, he told me his "butt hurt" and I realized he was constipated again, hence the potty accidents.

Then,when he shoved his the Cozy Coup on it's side while his brother was in it, I was furious.  I put him on the porch steps for a time out, and he refused to stay.  So, I told him every time he went down a stair I would add a minute to his time out.  The time out got up to seven minutes and I realized it was out of control, so I brought him inside and upstairs for his time out.  I was mad, and I told him he'd better not pee his pants again, or I would be very angry (which is true, I would have been, but inappropriately so; and it certainly was not okay for me to tell him as much.)

He screamed and kicked the gate at the top of the stairs and was super, super angry with me.  Then poor Danny had an accident which was fine and didn't make me particularly angry (he's much more novice at the potty training than Oscar) but I was kind of thinking, "Really?  More pee pants?  MORE PEE PANTS?"    I'm sure it happened during the Oscar/Momma battle and poor Danny didn't say anything because he didn't want any part of that mess.

So, I changed him and reassured him that accidents were okay, then went to get Oscar from time out.  He was in the bathroom on his potty, the sweet boy.  But, things had gone poorly and he'd gotten pee all over his pants and the floor (AGAIN), so more floor cleaning and another wardrobe change, though I was much less annoyed this time, though I was in major disbelief because, OH MY GOD MORE PEE?  FOR REAL?

And Miles also peed out (SERIOUSLY?) making for my fifth pair of pee pants in one day and I was just done with pee, okay? ENOUGH WITH THE PEE.

Oscar was also doing lots of running and screaming and not sharing and being rough with his brother and not listening to a word I said all day long.  Yes, all of these are pretty normal toddler behaviors, but when you couple them with the enormous amount of pee everywhere I freaking tuned, it was just too much.  And, when I'm frustrated, Oscar totally tunes into that and it amps him up even more than usual.

Not to mention my house was a wreck and the laundry was (is) just ridiculous.

Today has been better.  I picked up a million tiny socks (and some large ones, Nelson), put away several loads of laundry, made the beds, and even finally washed the pee sheets/duvet.  There was not enough dry milk for this morning's bread, but I let it go because my kids slept until after 7am (an almost never occurrence), and that allowed me to drink my coffee without a kid hanging off my leg (again, and almost never occurrence.)  And then, Miles danced to the sound of me whisking scrambled eggs, which may very well have been the cutest thing I've ever seen.  No one has peed his pants (yet.)

I keep reminding myself that I am better at this mom gig most days that I was at it yesterday.  That one off day does not make me a failure and that today is my opportunity to get it all right.  Or at least more of it right.

Onward.

Everywhere but here

Oh, hi, looking for me?  I've got a guest post up today at Kat's Bungalow - her husband is just back from deployment and she's taking a two week blogging hiatus and I'm really thrilled to help her out.  I complain about Nelson, and I know that's your favorite.

I've also got a post up at DC Metro Moms today.  I'm going on and on about preschool again, and I really need your advice, so please stop by!

Mother's Day

I sit here today while Nelson is out picking up sandwiches for lunch.  He rented a bike trailer so we can enjoy this gorgeous (if not a bit windy) day with a long, family bike ride and a picnic in the park.  All of this follows breakfast this morning with my own mom, and I'll close the day with drinks with my mom friend Pam.  A perfect day.

I feel overwhelming lucky.  I have two beautiful little boys who taught me to love with my whole heart.  Oscar, the first person to call me "Momma" and who challenges me to be a better parent and person every day.  Miles, who is so filled with laughter and joy that I know I must be doing something right.  I feel so honored to love them and to know them and to teach them and to watch them grow.

My husband Nelson, who has more faith in my parenting than I do on most days, who supports me and relieves me whenever I need it.  I'm so glad that we share this amazing life.

Happy Mother's Day!

Mother's Day 2009

Cutting the Grass

Sundays evenings are pretty tough around here.  On the one had they are good because Nelson is usually home and that means an extra set of hands to help with the kids.  But, Sundays are also the day we have to do all the stuff we didn't get done during the rest of the week - left over errands, grass cutting, loads of housework - and the kids are usually extra amped up after two days of fun with both parents, or in the case of this weekend, grandparents.

That was just a little groundwork for my story.  It's Sunday, around 5pm.  This kids are amped up.  Nelson does not feel well.  I have to make dinner.  The grass needs to be cut.  Nelson says, " I need to cut grass."

"Right now?  At 5 o'clock?  I need to make dinner."

"Well it needs to be cut.  I'll just do the front and side yard."

"Okay then."

Okay.  So.  I'm a bit annoyed by this.  This grass cutting at 5pm.  The boys and I had just returned from two hours out of the house.  I left the house with BOTH boys specifically so Nelson could have some time to himself to rest because he was not feeling well.  But now he feels well enough to cut grass?  Because when the boys and I walked in the door and I asked how he was feeling he responded, "No better."

I'm also a bit annoyed because I really enjoy cooking and I only get maybe two days a week where I can cook dinner without my children trying to crawl up my ass.  They are usually right there in my tiny kitchen with me.  Miles jams himself between me and the counter demanding to be held and Oscar alternately dumps giant bags of cars and/or trains on the floor and hangs off the back of my pants begging for a snack.  It sucks.

When Nelson is home, the kids still wander in the kitchen but Nelson is usually hot on their heels and will bring them back to the living room where he will distract them until I'm finished with dinner.  This time is blissful to me.  I love it.

Whatever, I agreed to the grass cutting because he was just going to do the front and side yards, which take around 20 minutes.  If he does the back yard, that's another 30 minutes.

So, I decided to go ahead and start dinner because it's a pretty quick meal and will be nearly done by the time Nelson is finished with the grass.  I figured he'd finish at the tail end of my cooking and come in a sweep up the kids so I would have a few minutes to clean up and put on the finishing touches.

The pot is simmering and the sauce is thickening.  Oscar is begging for a juice box or a snack or, really, my attention.  Miles is hanging off my legs.  I'm tripping over matchbox cars.  It's been nearly 30 minutes, where the heck is my husband?  I look out the kitchen window and notice he's cutting the backyard.  What?

Now, this is not the first time this has happened, that Nelson has said he will only do the front and side yards but instead just cuts the whole thing.  Yes, the grass needed to be cut but he told me he'd be back in to help me with the kids. I was counting on that.  That is what we agreed upon.  I'm annoyed.  I also can't help but thinking how every time Nelson does something like this, all hell tends to break loose.

I scoop up Miles and I notice he's warm.  He'd been up with a fever the night before and upon reflection, he was even whinier and more clingy than usual.

"Come on, Oscar.  We're going upstairs to check Miles' temperature."

I start up the stairs and Oscar is behind me.  He's slow because his legs are shorter than mine and because he's a preschooler and those kids are slow as molasses when you need them to do something.  Anyways, Oscar is lagging behind but I don't really care about that.  He's coming.  He'll get up the stairs eventually.

I undress the baby and check his temp.  101.3.  His diaper is soggy and I don't have a clean one upstairs, so I just give him some ibuprofen and figure I'll diaper him downstairs.  Meanwhile, Oscar finally arrives upstairs.

"Momma, I have lotion on my shoes."

I look and he does indeed have something on his shoes.

"Oscar what is that on your shoes."

"Lotion."

"I don't think so.  What is it."

"I don't know."

Then, I smell it.  And it smells lovely.  And expensive.  Like the salon shampoo I bought the previous day.

"Oscar.  What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"That is not lotion.  That is Momma's shampoo.  Did you squeeze it or did you dump it."

"Nothing."

"No.  Don't tell me 'nothing." I can see it all over you!  What. Did. You. Do."

"I dumped it."

I follow his sticky shoe prints and find that, yes, he did indeed dump it.  Down the stairs.  He unscrewed the cover and dumped my expensive shampoo down the stairs.

I carefully bring Miles down the stairs and diaper him.  I check dinner and turn off the stove.  Then, I spend ten minutes trying to get very thick, expensive shampoo off of my wooden stairs, all the while my feverish toddler whines mercilessly.  Have you ever tried to clean shampoo off wooden stairs?  Have you?  It takes FOREVER.  I was very busy.  And also head explodey because of the whining.

So busy was I that I fail to notice Oscar hadn't reappeared.

"Oscar?  Oscar, where are you?"

"..."

"Oscar, you always answer Momma.  Where. Are. You?"

"Upstairs.  With the paint."

"What?!  What paint?"

Luckily it was just bathtub paint, totally washable.

Oscar agrees to come downstairs after I promise he can have the bathtub paints in his bath after dinner.

Nelson came in.

"Hey, how's it going?"

"You know.  Terrible.  Miles has a fever and Oscar dumped my shampoo down the stairs and go into the bathtub paint and dinner has been ready for fifteen minutes."

"Oh."

"Well, lets eat."

"I'll do the baths tonight."

"Great. Oscar gets his paints."  

Have fun with that, Dad.

RTT: Jesus built my hotrod

And in this corner, The UnMom with Random Tuesday Thoughts!



*Miles at his breakfast in a booster seat this morning.  Sob, baby growing up, sob!

*Oscar is officially toilet trained.  But.  Last week, he was in his room for a time out.  A time out for kicking his brother.  After the requisite two minutes were up, I went retrieve him and he said to me, "I peed in my pants." The bathroom is connected to Oscar's room.  There is a potty in there, and a seat topper and stool.  He knows how to use all of these things by himself.  The only thing he needs help with is pulling up his pants.  "Oscar.  Why did you pee in your pants?  Why didn't you just go into the bathroom?"  "I peed my pants because I mad at you, Momma."  GASP.  The little shit.  A "revenge pee," as Sprite's Keeper calls it.  Not cool, Oscar.  Funny, but not cool.

*Have you heard about this huge Children/Infant Tylenol, Motrin, Zyrtec, Benadryl recall?  Check it out and check your medicine cabinets.  We had four  partially used bottles.  What heck, man?  And wouldn't you know it my kids both spiked fevers this weekend?  Luckily I had a couple of bottles of generic ibuprofen in the house.

*Nebo is still with us.  He gets to go out and go to the bathroom and that's it.  We are considering the dog run/kennel idea, but the weather and our time has not been permitting.

*Oscar has these two race cars and he refers to them as Jesus's cars.  Being that his only reference for word/name Jesus is used as profanity, I pretty sure this is my doing. "Jesus" is my curse of choice while driving.  This might explain why I hear Oscar playing with these cars saying, "Jesus, you are going to fast!" and "Jesus, slow down!" and "Jesus, be careful!" I really need to watch my language.  That seems to be a theme around here these days.

*Oscar planted his first container garden a few weeks ago.  He was excited:

That's all I got.  Go over to Keely's for your Tuesday's dose of random.

Conversations with a Preschooler, #1

Scene: The living room.  Oscar is playing store with a photo printer.  The printer is a cash register.


Oscar: Momma, do you need a new orange thing?

Jenni: Yes, Oscar, I need a new Orange thing.

Oscar messes with "cash register." 

Oscar:  Okay, here you go Momma, a new orange thing!

Jenni: Oh, thank you so much.  It's just want I wanted.

Oscar messes with "cash register"

Oscar:  Here's your change!

Jenni: Thanks.

Oscar: Do you want some candy, Momma?  Here's some candy for you.

Jenni: Thank you!

Oscar: Eat it!

Jenni mimes eating pretend candy.


Jenni: Nom, nom, nom. Wow, this is some delicious candy.

Oscar:  Thank you!

Oscar messes with cash register.


Oscar: Here you go Momma.  A new bag of shit.

Jenni and Jenni's mom exchange a look.


Jenni: What did you just give me, Oscar?

Oscar: A bag of shit. From the store.

Jenni barely containing laughter, tries to parent.

Jenni: Oscar, that's a grown up word.  Little boys stay, "stuff." You give me a bag of "stuff."

Oscar: Okay, Momma.  I give you a bag of stuff.

End scene.