I wish he was a “yes” man…

Bug has made the transformation. Ya know the one – one day you have a sweet, albeit rambunctious, toddler and the next you have a cloven-hoofed two year old who doesn’t hear a word you say and if he DOES, he pretends he doesn’t. I’m talking about The Terrible Two’s. Or as I’ve come to think of them, The If-You-Say -“No”-or-Throw-Yourself-To-The-Ground-One-More-Time-I’m-Going-To-Lose-My-Fucking-Mind Phase.

I don’t remember it being this bad with Nut. I don’t. Sure, she liked to destroy her room instead of sleeping during afternoon nap. And sure, she threw some monumental tantrums. But this – this is a whoooolllle ‘nother level. I knew I was in for it when I read his daily sheet from daycare this week:

"Reid has not had good listening ears this week.”

“Reid took a swim in the sandbox. He is clean but wet.”

“Reid had to sit out on afternoon playground time.”

“Reid turned the water on in the bathroom and stuck his Mickey doll under the faucet when he was supposed to be napping.”

Swell. The Two’s had been rearing their ugly head sporadically up until this point, but this week has been HELL. I take a little refuge in the knowledge that Bug is no longer saving this just for me, but spreading his Two Year Old Glory to his teachers too.

His favorite word is “no”. And not just a casual “no”, not my boy. He SPITS it out with disdain, a look on his face like I’m an idiot. He sounds like a tiny Cartman from South Park. It drives me bananas and is his answer to everything lately:

“You want a hot dog, lil’ man?”

“NO!”

Thirty seconds later… “Waaaaahhhh! I want a hot dog!!!”

I feel like I can’t take him anywhere. He won’t sit in a cart, is a head injury waiting to happen, but as soon as I give in to his demands to walk, he SPRINTS like a God damned caged animal finally free and I’m left to decide which child to ditch ~ the pint-sized run away or his sister who is staying by the cart as instructed. He is like a tiny dog on those occasions; runs half a frickin’ mile before stopping and turning back to see if I’m behind him - and if he sees I am, whooosh! He’s off another six aisles.  I call him The Terr(or)ier.

No form of punishment phases him. Time out? Psssh. Take his toy away? Oh well, he has 97 other Matchbox cars he can turn to. A threat to swat his bottom? He laughs and says, “silly, Mommy! That’s funny!”

His attention span is all of maybe 12 seconds when we are in public. He is cute, I’ll give him that. He tells everyone hello and goodbye and he dances and sings to music. And today when he pulled a giant VAT of vinegar off the shelf at Super Walmart, he told the poor worker who came to clean it up that he was “sowwy”. I guess in the grand scheme of things, at least the little shit has manners.

What made me happy this weekend:

 

 

Taking my pumpkins to the pumpkin patch – where we took a picture where we ALL were looking at the camera and smiling.

Notice my hat? Remember the small tidbit that I am DIE HARD St. Louis Cardinals fan?!? …….. well……

 

WE ARE GOING TO THE WORLD SERIES!!!

I say “we” like I’m on the roster.

Which, obviously, I am not.

But still.

I just ran a victory lap in my living room.

*squeals*

SMKSTW Friday: Modesty is her middle name.

Nut is my diva. She spends more time looking in the mirror and complimenting herself than anyone I know. That's okay though, right? Healthy self-esteem. And she's quick to tell other people how cute they look too so I think it all balances out. This morning she informed me she wanted to wear her Halloween skirt to school (yes, my 3 year old not only has her wardrobe memorized but also gets to pick out her own clothes). I hadn't gotten any pictures of her in yet though and when I looked out the front door and caught of glimpse of her in all her fashionista glory, I figured I might as well take some. As soon as she saw the phone come out of my purse, she was in full model mode.



I told her to smile and look cute for the camera and this is what I get:


I asked her what she was doing and she said, "I'm peace out'ing!"


I call this one her celebrity I'm-too-cool-for-this-crap pose:


I'm not really sure where she picked up the "Faaaabulous!" pose (secretly I wonder how many episodes of RHONJ she watched with my mom when she babysat them), but I have to admit it is pretty damn funny.



Christmas cards photos should be fun this year. She would have continued posing all morning if we weren't running late for school and instead had to settle for looking through my phone at all her shots and congratulating herself (and me) on her new clothes:


"You buyed me this outfit, Mommy? Pat yourself on the back for a job well done!"

Well then.

*pats self on back*

(Not so) Wordless - and not at all Wednesday

I was all prepared to post one of my favorite pics of the kids from the past few months for WW yesterday but got distracted and it didn't happen. I'm doing it today though because I seriously *heart* this pic AND as a Cardinals fan, I am TOTALLY ON CLOUD NINE about my boys in red making it to the playoffs!!!





LET THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER BEGIN!!!!! GO CARDS!!!!!!

Dear Offspring,

I'm writing to you in response of what I found awaiting me this morning in the bathroom. The photographic evidence is posted below in case you have forgotten:



Though neither of you will admit to it, I know for a fact that I didn't put the toilet paper under running water and then stash it in the hopes that nobody would notice. Oh no, not me. If I had done it, I would have known that sitting down on the potty ten minutes later was not a good idea. I would have known when the Starbucks I enjoyed last night hit me I better be prepared, seeing as how OUR LAST ROLL OF TOILET PAPER WAS NOW MUSH. But I didn't know that. YOU apparently did though, seeing as how nobody would respond to my pleas to please bring me the baby wipes, WHY WON'T SOMEBODY BRING ME THE GOD FORSAKEN BABY WIPES!?! I guess I should have been suspicious from the start, seeing as how I was actually being allowed to poo in private.


And that brings us to issue #2 (no pun intended). Here's the thing, kids... Mommy does not ask for much. And if I do, generally you choose not to listen anyways so it's like my demands were never mentioned in the first place. One thing I am consistant on is my request to poo uninterrupted. That's all. I'm quite stealthy at it, I can be in and out in under three minutes. Please afford me this luxury. PLEASE. Sure, the clapping you do is appreciated. And it is nice of Bug to offer me bits of toilet paper, even if they are so small it would be like wiping with shredded lunch meat. And I'll admit that it isn't ALWAYS your fault, Nut, that you have to pee the second my butt touches the seat.

But I don't need for my three year old to tell me my poop smells and to ask me to leave the bathroom (kind of hard to do logistically when I'm still..erm.. in the middle of it). You guys don't need to brush your teeth or wash your hands or put on lotion or get a bandaid or have me open a juice box RIGHT THAT INSTANT. Surely you can wait 90 seconds. Surely you can cut your mother some slack. Surely.....


Love,

Mom

SMKSTW Friday: Toddler Smackdown

My precious offspring have started arguing with each other recently. There had been sibling rivalry before, shoving for toys, blaming messes on the other... the usual.

But now we are on to full-fledged verbal spats. Half the time I have NOT A CLUE what the issue is or what the hell they're saying, but it can be amusing to watch. You didn't think I'd leave you guys outta the fun, did you??

So from what I can gather, Nut pointed to a picture of her infant self, informed Bug it was her, and he disagreed. This is what ensued:






Happy Weekend!

Give me your finest box of condoms , sir.

So it's Thursday. On the one hand, only one more work day left in the week - on the other, still one more work day left. It's a glass half empty kinda day around here and I'm wishing it was half full of wine. I'm finally beginning to believe that fall is here to stay - yay! - and I think I made it through the allergy season relatively unscathed. This is AWESOME news if you remember my seven week long coughing fit from last year.

I've started working a new shift at work, 9 to 6, which I LOATHE. I have to rely on the ex to pick the kids up from daycare every night and then by the time we get home, it is almost 6:30 and I've still got a meal to fix. I swear by the time I get dinner on the table, Bug has all but started to gnaw his own arm off. Have I mentioned he has garnered the nickname Fat Baby in the last few months? Not because he is fat by any means, but just because the kid can EAT. Seriously. Do you know many kids who could wolf down three bowls of spaghetti on their 2nd birthday? Thank God he never sits still or he'd have to be moved out of the house with a fork lift by the time he was 5.

What I do like about the later shift is that I don't have to be at work until 9am, which means we don't have to leave the house until 8:30...which means I don't have to wake up two grumpy toddlers at 6:30...which means my morning runs much smoother. It also means that when I was driving to work yesterday morning, I got to hear the weekly segment on the local radio station where they have a psychic phone in. If you can get through, you give her your first name and age and voila! She gives you a reading. I should give a disclaimer here where I say that I take all the psychic stuff with a grain of salt, blah blah blah. Whatever. I like them. I think they're fun. Now hush. Anyways.... lo and behold, I pick up trusty Droid when they queued the Psychic Suzanna theme music yesterday and got through. Too bad they weren't giving away money or something. But I digress...

The first thing good ol' Psychic Suzanna asked me was, "Nicky, are you pregnant?"

Um... say what?! I about shat myself. I told her no (and by told I mean I pretty much shouted it into the phone), but she couldn't let it go. Oh no. She had to continue on, tell me I wasn't fixed and insist, "Well you don't have three kids yet, do you?!?"

Hmmph.

She followed up that jaw dropper by telling me to expect some fun in a bowling alley. What? My mind is always in the gutter and after the pregnancy shocker, my first thought was that if I ever thought of having sex in a bowling alley, THAT idea is out....

Needless to say I don't remember much else of what she said because the threat of an impending pregnany was enough to make my ovaries swoop down and rip my lady bits off. I mean, sure I'd like another baby sometime down the road - like when I'm duped into marriage again... but not now. No way, no how. All that lady has managed to do is effectively ruin sex for me for a while. Which, hello! How rude.