It's Weebs!

I guess it's fall. There have been no leaves changing, the grass on our neighbors' lawns is still green (we have dirt that one day I will spray paint green); it's not even cold yet.
I did get a little bag of fabric leaves in fall colors from my Monster. They've started celebrating Fall in his Sunday school class, and he's really excited about it. He came running out of his classroom holding a little brown paper bag that he had lovingly decorated in one hand and a lollipop in the other hand. He shoved the bag into my hand, said "Dish ish foh you!", and quickly stuck the lollipop in his mouth before I could take it away. Yes, he has learned the art of distraction from his Mommy. I'm so proud.
When I asked him what was in the bag (I've learned to ask first. Sometimes little boys think things like bugs, used gum, and half eaten cookies need to be saved for Mom. They're so giving.), he said, "It's weebs!" If I could have recorded his little happy dance, I would watch it every day.
He's three years old, and still can't say "r", "th", "l", or "s" most of the time. I should be concerned, but it's still too cute which I need because most of the time, he's very un-cute.

Oh, and I would take a picture of his little art project, but the camera's still missing. There's a reason we call him Monster.

Uh, duh Mom! Do you see a doggy here?

He wants "wed." My poor, little, sick Monster wants "wed." Only his Mommy (maybe his Daddy) would know that he means Gatorade. He knows that when your tummy hurts, you get Gatorade, but he doesn't remember what it's called, so he asks for "red."

I think I may have to add another language to my resume. Not only do I speak English and ASL, but I also speak monster.

I'm still learning, though. Earlier this week, he told our Pastor that he didn't have a Daddy anymore. I could've sworn that's what he said. Pastor Scott and I laughed and asked him to repeat himself, which he did, in a very condescending tone. Turns out he was commenting on the fact that Pastor Scott left his doggy at home. Of course, he acted like we were idiots because we didn't notice the missing dog.

I figure by the time I learn to speak it fluently, he will have grown out of it. I have to admit, that makes me a little sad.

Check out the fancy attachments on this vacuum!

I wanted to post something witty and poignant, but I am neither witty nor poignant today. Today I am withered and poopy, so you get withered and poopy.

My two year-old monster is driving me insane! He has been the toughest child of the four, and although I have not been spoiling him, he is spoiled. Is it possible to subconsciously spoil?

He does not stop. Ever. I cannot leave him unattended for even a minute's time. And having three other children makes that nearly impossible. I feel the need to lash him to my leg, but I know how the authorities feel about tying children to things and other people. So I don't because I really do love him, and would rather he didn't spend time in foster homes.

He is not distracted by anything. There is no magic toy, t.v. program, or DVD that holds his attention for more than five minutes.

I do not give him copious amounts of sugar. He gets a treat (cookies, a piece of candy, etc) once a day. I've even cut back on the juice severely. He drinks water if he's not getting his soy milk. Where in the world does he get his energy?

He sucks it from me telepathically. That has to be it. It's the only reasonable option that would explain my lack of energy and his over-abundance of it. Great, not only do I have a over-active two year-old, but he's a telepathic energy vacuum, too. How much longer until I can kick him out of the house? Sixteen years? Lord, help me, please.

So what's wrong with her? We still think the temporal lobe.

I've been up since 4 am with the monsters. In their defense, they all have stuffy noses, and the time change is always tough on them (and me). That still did not prevent me from going into Exorcist mode this morning. You know what I'm talking about. Don't pretend you've never gotten so frustrated your head starts spinning around and your eyes glow green.

Anyway, I had a dear, sweet friend (thanks Jenny!) send me this yesterday and I thought I would share with everyone. This morning, I definitely needed a good laugh at how absurd parenthood could be, and this video delivered. Bookmark it for your next Exorcist day, you'll be glad you did.





Oh, and you get extra brownie points if you can guess where I got the title of my post.

Free the leash kids!

I know, I know it's been a while. I have life as my excuse. I have two baby blankets to finish before it gets cold; I'm homeschooling my six year-old monster; I'm still working part-time at my nine year-old monster's school; and well, my house does need some attention. So there's that.






For those of you that pay attention, the PKD walk on Saturday was a great success. They raised over ten thousand dollars, and Team Donna alone raised about fifteen hundred. All my monsters walked with their Nonna even though only Ryder raised money. He raised a hundred dollars.

You may notice the leash on my youngest. Yes, it is necessary. He will take off running, and in crowds that makes me nervous. Say what you want about putting kids on a leash, but if my options are having a child on a leash or having a child hit by a car or lost in the crowd, my choice is a no-brainer. He doesn't wear it everyday, only when we are outdoors in crowds. We actually have two, that's how important it is to his safety and Mommy's sanity. The other one is a little bear backpack, way more adorable but also way more hot. (Also, he wears more orange than any of my other children put together, pretty much for the same reasons.)

There's my update. Once we get settled into the homeschooling routine, I will share my feelings about the teacher on the DVDs. Oh, it's gonna be a good post, too! She's, um, special. Special like "what is wrong with her?" special.

It's a bird; it's a plane...

No, it's a kid with his underwear outside his pajamas! I think his sister's cowboy boots and the kitchen towel cape make the ensemble complete.

He looks like he just spotted a crime in progress.

Naptime Adventures, Part drei (aka Dressing for Success)

Shhhh... Monster is currently sleeping, but I have happy news to report. He actually came out of his room to tell me that he pooped in his pull-up instead of taking it off and smearing the contents. The magic clothing combination? Zip-up pajamas on backwards with a shirt and shorts on top. I know that seems like a lot, but the shirt and shorts were his idea. He didn't want to take his clothes off, but I knew that letting him sleep in what he had on would mean finger painting for sure. So we compromised. He's got to be sweating by now. Ah, two year olds...

For those of you that are not caught up with my naptime adventures, read this post and this post.

What's the smallest size this comes in?

Well, we're two for two here in the naptime-poop-smearing department. Which is not only very frustrating because naptime is Mommy time, but it's also getting very tedious. However, my little monster has been bathed more times this weekend than any other weekend since he was newborn.

So I'm considering clothing options. Backwards zip-up pajamas only occasionally work; he laughs while snapping open onesies; even overalls are a ridiculous waste of time. I'm positive that Children's Services would frown on a straight jacket, so that leaves me with one option.

Where can I find a scuba suit for a two year old?

Naptime Festivities Part Deux aka Why padlocks should come with two-year olds.

Exhibit A, your Honor. This poor woman clearly cannot be held responsible for her actions. If your Honor would please take a look at the result of the date in question's naptime, your Honor would without a shadow of a doubt let my client off due to temporary insanity. Yes, this temporary insanity has lasted for approximately two years, but if your Honor would note that prior to her insanity, she was an upstanding citizen with only a few minor traffic tickets to blacken her record.
Exhibit B has been rectified by the in-house electronics cleaner, but had your Honor seen the before (a brand new iPod colored in the very last discontinued lip pencil that my client uses every single day), your Honor would be even more sure that my client absolutely cannot be held responsible for running up and down the street screaming, pulling her hair out, mumbling to herself while huddled in the corner, and spending way too much money at the craft store.
(Also at the scene of the crime was the empty package of gum and crumbled gum wrappers, entire contents of my client's wallet thrown about carelessly, phone with 45 new pictures on it, soiled bedding, and various other misdemeanors.)

Extra points to whoever can guess what part of his body that's a print of and what my two-year old monster used for the all-natural pigment. Oh yes, I did put that picture up. Sorry, Hubby.

Edit: I should add that the padlock mentioned in the title is not meant for the two year-old, just for anything that I hold remotely valuable or that could not hold up to a good scrubbing. The two year-old could pick the padlock no problem.

I like my men in clean white coats.

Let me tell you about my Saturday... I'm going to warn you right now, it was rough.

The morning started with my two older boys throwing up in the living room. Why can't children stay in bed if they are feeling sick? They always seem to throw up in exactly the same spot, too. Hubby cleaned up the first one (which happened to be in "his chair"). I cleaned up the second one which was on the carpet right in the middle of the living room.

Somewhere in the vomiting chaos, my two-year old monster decided to take my laptop, cell phone, and two iPods (Hubby got me a new Nano, and I was playing with them both before bed.) to his room with the bottle of cleaner that I was using to scrub the floor. Mind you this was all before my breakfast caffeine, and I was busily scrubbing, completely unaware that he sneaked off with all this. Yes, it's coming. He sprayed them all with Pinesol.

My poor laptop never had a chance. My iPods were protected by their silicon cases. My cell phone was next in line for the disinfecting when I caught him.

I had to get out of the house. My nerves were already frayed from a rainy Friday spent cooped up with the kids, and I wasn't mentally prepared for all of that before breakfast. I scooped up my pine-scented wet electronics, and dropped them on the bed next to groggy Hubby. "I think it's dead. He killed it, and I have to leave, now." I quickly changed out of my vomit-scented pajamas and grabbed my purse. We have a Saturday tradition of Dunkin' Donuts, so that's where I went.

Upon my return, I fully admit to sitting in the driveway a few minutes to eat some of my bagel and drink some coffee. I couldn't sit for too long because I didn't have any good music to listen to, and my monster (who was banned to his room with a swat on the leg for his actions) had seen me and was standing up on his window sill yelling, because he knew I had donuts.

When I finally went inside, Hubby had my laptop in pieces on the kitchen table, drying it off with a hair dryer. The non-vomiting family members sat down and ate breakfast. Sometime in the chaos, I had texted my friend begging to go see a movie before I went totally looney, and she responded to finalize plans.

I was nice to Hubby and planned to get the church bulliten board done and go to the movies after two of the four kiddies were in bed. I still had to print up the picture for the bulliten board and assemble it before then anyway. Hubby spent some time finding a good picture while I went to WalMart to get an upolstery cleaner (remember the vomit chair?); I also had to get ink and photo paper. Hubby also fixed lunch while I was gone, and once again those not vomiting sat and ate cucumber and tomato salad for lunch.

I was cleaning up the lunch mess while Hubby started printing out the picture. In the middle of clearing the table, Hubby called me into the bedroom to look at what he was printing. I swear to you, I was only in there for 45 seconds. When I came out, Monster was sitting on the counter throwing salad into the air with the salad tongs. It just keeps getting better and better.

I snatched him down, swatted his leg and set him in the shower fully clothed. He had greasy arms and feta cheese in his hair. I asked Hubby if he wanted to clean the child (who had also pooped in his pants) or the kitchen, and he chose the kitchen without first surveying the damage. Let's just say that my leftover Pepsi from lunch was also involved. Half way through, I did offer to switch, but I couldn't really understand his mumbling, so I thought it was best to finish my half without bothering him anymore.

I didn't really want to let Monster take a nap, because he's old enough for napping to affect his bedtime, and I REALLY needed for him to go to sleep on time. So, I put in a movie he liked and gave him a blanket and a spot on the couch. He didn't stay there for long, and was "helping" me assemble the poster-sized Earth that I was hanging on the bulliten board. After almost an hour, I finally got the thing perfectly assembled, glued and trimmed, but I ran out of tape to re-inforce the seams. I checked Monster; I am positive that he was so busy watching his movie that he didn't notice me walk into my bedroom to get the roll of tape out of my desk drawer, but no. I came back out to him smearing purple gluestick on my hard work. I believe that I let out a half shriek, half soul wrenching wail, because he dropped the glue stick and took off. Fortunately it was on the back, and didn't affect the visible front. I don't remember much after that, but I believe Hubby took him back to his room and swatted his hand or leg or something.

I immediately took my poor Earth to safety in my locked van. I needed a long, hot shower after that. Of course, Monster fell asleep during his time served in solitary.

I know this is a long post, but I had to share it all. I think it's important that you all understand why, one of these days, I'm going to take a vacation with the nice men in white coats. I do love my children; I just need to be reminded of it from time to time.

Oh, and I finished the bulliten board, had a cup of coffee, and saw Sex and the City with my friend. The day definitely didn't end how it started.

What does a monster say?

From my monster to you!

All Done!

I went back to JoAnn's and found some yarn to finish the hat I started (see previous post). It's Lion Brand's Chenille Thick & Quick in black, obviously. Enjoy!

Now what...

I kinda finished this hat. This yarn (Sensations Artic in Multi) was on sale at JoAnn's, so I picked up a skein. I thought that would be enough to make my monster a new hat for winter, nope! So now I have a half-finished hat that is made from a color no longer in stores. I'm thinking a black band and black tassels on each point. I found the pattern on Lion Brand's website.
Oh, this picture is of a little girl I sit during the day, she's not one of mine.

Let it snow; let it snow, please God! Let it snow!

I'm ready for winter. It's been 97 degrees outside with 250% humidity, and I'm done! I started going through my kid's sweaters (for the one week a year they need them), and I found the very first sweater I made. It's a year old and covered in mulch, but I still love it. My darling monster is modeling it (ignore the black eye- he's table height now).
I used a pattern in Candi Jensen's book, Total Baby Knits. It's made with my favorite yarn, Caron's Simply Soft, in colors Iris, Off White, Rubine Red, and Berry Blue in their Brights line.
I did make a matching hat, but his head grew faster than the rest of him! Oh, and that's his artwork on the door behind him (in permanent marker!)