A creepy spider was slowly scuttling across my kitchen ceiling. I yelped for Chris to save me. "Help, it's Lou Lou the spider!" I said, being silly.
Bub, "HOW DO YOU KNOW HER?!?"
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Poor, put upon second son! All of our adventures are errands or chasing after Bub. I signed Cubby up for a play group at the Y. We made fast friends with some bigger kids, all of whom Cubby called "LIAM!"
Maybe put down that snack.
Still with me? Last night, I got a rare phone call from the babysitter. Freaked out, I shoved my way out of the restaurant, fearing contusions and hospital visits, only to hear that my cat pooped. "Only", because it's better than injured children. That crappin' cat pooped all over the rug, my preschooler stepped in it TWICE and tracked it throughout the house.
OK, we resumed Date Night plus a stop at the grocery store for rug cleaner.
Then my sudden attack of food poisoning that lands me in the powder room half the night and then, the morning begins with the aforementioned preschooler not at all confining his bathroom visit to the toilet.
And the cherry on this sundae, ewwww, is that diaper changes have now become wrestling matches with chances of poop containment reduced to 50/50 odds.
It's been 14 hours from the start of all this shit. (Pun and it stays.)
I treated the boys to the middle school me's wildest dream. Cruisin the mall! We had transfat-filled pretzels, got a collosal balloon, Cubby got an awful haircut and we searched high and low for a dinosaur toy.
Please! For the love of GOD! Put in a boy toy store at my mall! How is a mother supposed to get her shopping done without the tantalizing carrot of a new dinosaur? If only Bub were still into stuffed kitties. He was eyeing an iPhone case. And I had to explain a lot of weird and inappropriate things at Newbury Comics. But no dinosaurs. Cubby was this close to getting a Grumpy Cat doll but he didn't like the flavor. Onto the floor it went.
I was called out. I'm not a good mother today because Solomon Pond mall doesn't sell a single reptilian toy. And my feelings aren't hurt at all, nope. And I totally did not use that comment as leverage to pick out the stories I like at bedtime. That would have been childish.
We are halfway through the most recent round of antibiotics for the most recent ear infection and I'm out of ideas! Ideas for masking that fowl amoxicillan. (Some people have confessed that they like the flavor and doctors insist that it's delicious. These people are crackers.)
My kids moan and wale and clamp their small gummy jaws tight. Or spit it out, sometimes with fountain like spray. I asked for pills this time, but the stuff still stinks and I'm out of options.
I did yogurt, all different kinds of yogurt, apple sauce, pudding and that leaves ice cream. Yup, I gave my baby a strawberry milkshake with COWS milk! He loved it. Drank it up with a straw, which was another first!
Oh, and Cubby's also saying "Daddy".
It is so hard to break from the "No!" energy that surrounds Bub these days. He's deeply entrenched in his opposition phase and I'm left to play bad cop at every turn. Even when I think we're having a nice moment, I find out I'm still steeled for defiance.
Tonight, before bed, I was telling a story. I'm one for "cautionary tales" so it was natural for me to weave a story about the kitten who snuck out of the house and went to buy fish ice cream and ended up getting scared by a noise and losing her money.
Bub, sweetheart that he is, replied, "I'm going to tell a story now but with no scolding."
Bub, I'm sorry! I'm doing my best, buddy. I'm sorry that you feel scolded all of the time. Now, if you'd just give me some practice at NOT scolding you everyday, my subconscious might concoct lighter fare.
Goodnight, Little Imp.
The kids and I were playing with Legos tonight and the familiar pattern was unfolding : Bub built a structure and Cubby was trying desperately to sit in the middle of/destroy said structure.
What I noticed tonight was that whenever Bub said "No, Cubby!" Cubby took a swipe at Bub's face!
We've all been on the receiving end of these baby smacks which I had been dismissing as efforts at communication. There is no denying what is being communicated and that's, "DON'T SAY 'NO' TO ME!"
What a little bruiser we've got on our hands!
You have to be ready to make good on your threats.
During bath, Bub did not want to wash himself and decided to pitch a fit. I'm stunned by the turrets style of monolog I was subjected to so we'll just say it was a lot of naughty talk.
I had to threaten, and yes, you are reading this right, to throw his new toy in the woods where it would be eaten by coyotes.
It is holding as effective behavior control! Didn't think I'd be busting that out..... ever.
Miraculously successful errand mission! I was wearing Cubby and pushing Bub in the stroller. I did bribe big brother with a new dinosaur (ahem, judge not!) but both children were wonderful in three stores. Sometimes, the planets do align.
Here's Cubby, finally giving in to sleep.
I just never have the camera ready to capture those stumbling steps!
It was a pajama day all around at our house. Cubby is 11 months old! And Bub has a bad cold..
And for Bub's contribution, here's a collosal squid.
I don't work for any museum or gallery that you would have heard of. It's a small art house in Central Massachusetts, but the artist I curate for is so prolific that I'm kept very busy.
This is equivalent to a ream of paper and represents one month of his work. At least, those pieces which are not eaten by his brother who's in more of a performance art phase. I have the daunting task of "archiving" the majority of these pieces. It is so hard to only save a dozen. I feel like a masterpiece could easily be overlooked!
He's on the rise, so be sure to hang onto any of his early works that you may get your hands on.
Cubby is a giant baby of 11 months, one who spills out of my arms and lap. He loves to nurse and so do I, but he has never been a quiet eater.
From his first day he has been noisy! Grunting and growling, sounds much larger than his tiny body could possibly create, resounded from his throat. Watching TV while nursing has always been more about reading lips. And conversation, forget it!
For a while, I could use my phone or read on my tablet. No longer. He's like a bronc rider, waving his free arm around, smashing any technology across the room. And if I dare to nurse where the TV is on, I guess I deserve the nip-lash as he jerks his head around to see what's playing that music.
Currently, he requires a two-handed hold. If he tracks like his older brother, our nursing time is coming to a close. After his birthday and once he's steadier on his feet, he'll be pouncing on me and diving back out of my lap. I don't know if I will want to deal with that to save the bond. I may. He's my last nursling after all.