Feeling maudlin tonight.  Or maybe just over tired?  I'm not sure why. It was a good day, which means I should have no reason to be "down." The boys were both wonderful pretty much all day, I got a little bit done around the house, although not as much as I wanted to. Maybe if I sit here long enough, I'll figure it out.

So. Let's write.

Aiden's learning how to share much better this week. He still flips out if Parker touches his letter magnets on the table, but most other things he's getting pretty good with. Yesterday we were sharing the car track set we gave him for his birthday. Aiden had two cars and Parker had two. And they took turns saying "Go!" for the cars to race down the track. It was so much fun to play with them.

Hmm. Feeling a little better now. :)

Parker loves dancing. Any time music comes on, he's right there to bounce to the beat. He's pretty good at it too, for a one-year-old. He swings his arms and shakes his little diaper, and just recently he started spinning. I think Aiden taught him how. He copies just about everything Big Brother does these days.

:) :)

Parker is a climber. Yesterday he climbed onto the dining room table, and into the dishwasher (at separate times of course). Today, he climbed into his high chair. Yeah, that kid is giving me gray hair.

Aiden is spelling all sorts of words now. The memorization powers that boy has are incredible. At the end of the month, I'm borrowing a book from my mom about how to teach your child to read, and we're going to start that. I'm soooo excited, I can hardly wait.

:) :) :)

Ok, I feel better. See? Writing helps.

Three years as a Mommy

My oldest son gave me a new name three years ago today. Mommy. He was born at 7.04pm on Tuesday, Feb. 5th, 2008. Three years old now. Wow.

He's grown so much in that time. I mean, he started to roll, then crawl, then walk, and he's finally starting to talk. Amazing. I wish his childhood would slow down just a little, because I want to enjoy the entire thing, and I feel like I have a hard time doing that when it goes so fast.

I love rocking him and singing the bedtime songs. He barely fits in my lap anymore, he's so huge, but we still do it every night. And the script never varies. We sing "Elmo, Big Bird and Snuffy Song" and then he tries to add in Cookie Monster, and Mommy says no, Cookie Monster doesn't sing that song. Then he points out the door and says "donkey-horse" and Mommy says the donkey-horse is out in the playroom. He shakes his head while saying "poke tail" meaning we don't want the donkey-horse to poke with his tail while Aiden is sleeping, so that's why donkey-horse isn't in bed.

Then we sing The Goodnight Song (aka Michael Card's "He Grants Sleep to Those that He Loves") and after that we do the donkey-horse bit again. Same words, same inflections.

Then we pray, and Aiden has the same list of people and places every night. Occasionally it grows, when he learns a new name or falls in love with another of my friends, but they get added on and the rest stays the same. Then we pray, and Aiden finishes with his amen, then he says "eyes" meaning he kept his eyes closed (sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't lol). Then he gets in bed and Mommy sits next to him, and puts on the four blankets, starting with them over his head and then saying, "Whoops, sorry!" and taking them off.

I wrote all this down not because I think the world at large needs to know about the bedtime rituals my oldest son and I have. Instead, I did it so that someday, when he's asking me for the car keys (if we're still using cars at that time lol), or packing up all his stuff that he needs for college, or waiting at the end of an aisle for the woman he loves to come down and join her life to his, I can look at this and think to myself about the precious, special moments that I had with him, that were just mine and his. This way, I can remember the sweet smell of his hair as it rested against my cheek, as we rocked back and forth in the dim room, and feel his baby hands touching my face one more time.

Happy 3rd birthday, my angel. I love you always and forever,
Your Mommy

The Experiment

So yesterday I decided that I wanted to use up the last of the potatoes before they wrinkled themselves into my garbage can. Now what better way than to make potato chips, right? I've been craving salt and vinegar (my favorite flavor) kettle cooked chips. Mmm, there goes the drool. Sorry 'bout that.

Anyway, I wanted to try something new. So I put on the oil, sliced 'em up nice and thin (The Husband got an amazing knife from Cutco that I highly recommend, and no I'm not getting paid to say that) and started deep frying.

Three burned fingers later, I had potato chips! But, silly me, I didn't think through it enough to realize that if you put vinegar on a crisp chip, it gets soggy. D'oh! So I had soggy salt and vinegar chips. They still tasted good, and satisfied my craving. And now I know for next time, soak the chips in vinegar first, then fry them. Of course, I'll still end up with burned hands. When the book you're reading says things like, "Warning! Hot oil burns!" and, "Use caution when placing chips in hot oil!" several times throughout the recipe, you maybe oughta listen. And by you, I mean me. I got distracted by the pushing going on in the living room and didn't pay attention to pulling my hand out of the kettle before the droplets landed on it. Nice red mark.

Oh, and cleaning oil off your stove? Not fun. Not fun at all. :-P

Nap strike is quelled!

The nap strike that has kept me in a fog for the past week has apparently abated for the time being. Thank goodness, because Mommy without downtime is a frightening thing. Just ask my children.

Is winter almost over? Come on, snow, you can go somewhere else. This is why I don't want to live in "Alaska" with my parents. I don't do snow very well. I like it for Christmas, and by New Years I want it to be spring. Reminds me of my former job, the greenhouse. Oh, how I loved working in the greenhouses. I remember one spring break that I worked the entire week, and only left the greenhouse to eat. It was amazing. Potting soil smells great after a winter of bleach and red, green, pink and white (Christmas and Valentine's Day in the same season? Come on!).

Ooh! Big news! I'm going to start teaching Aiden to read! I was talking to his speech therapist, and told her about all the words that he can spell. She said to go ahead and get him started reading the correct way, because his interest level is so high that it might be easier to do it now. I'm so excited! (Can you tell by all the exclamation marks in this paragraph?) Move over, Einstein, my sweet, handsome and brilliant son is moving on up!

Ok, now that I've bragged on him enough for this post, I can tell you that Parker is starting to talk! (Warning: More exclamation marks ahead.) He says mama, dada, papa (Parker) schlah (nice) mo (more or milk) and ball! I think he is frequently trying to imitate what I say, also, but it's not quite as consistent. But my baby is talking! I can't believe how grown up he is already!

Enough rambling. Cleaning now. Bleah.

A "Bad Day"

Today was an example of what you could call a "bad day" of parenting. The little guy wanted to be held all day long, when he wasn't doing nosedives off my couch and getting into the garbage can. The big one spent most of the day helping the little one do those nosedives. And knocking him over. And not sharing toys. And generally just being a typical almost-three-year-old-big-brother.

Oops, excuse me. The big one just took his diaper off and is parading around the dining room table half naked.

Where was I? Was I complaining? Probably. Sorry. The fact of the matter is that even the "bad day" had its good moments. Parker and I took a nap snuggled on the couch together (albeit a brief one). Aiden enjoyed the wheat-free brownies I baked for him, even though he's still asking for the candy I have stashed on top of the hutch. And he gave me a big hug without being asked when I was upset with something I was reading earlier.

So having a "bad day" doesn't mean it has to be awful from beginning to end. It could just be a general sense of frustration that you feel like you're not getting anything done. Which is what I've been feeling. But just now, I looked at my sweet boys, and realized that I did get something done today. I fed them and changed their diapers. And that's enough.

Excuse me please. The little guy is about to start flying practice off the living room couch. I need to get the medkit.

Snips, Snails, Puppy Dog Tails and a Messy Kitchen

So. A blog. What are we supposed to do with this again?

Oh yeah. Write.

I love to write. Most of what I say may not make sense to anyone outside my head. But that's alright. At least I have voices to keep me company ;)

I have two boys, and they most definitely are. Boys, that is. Aiden is a (most of the time) quiet, focused, intelligent little man that is learning to get his point across using words. Yay Aiden! Parker is a moving, shaking, climbing, falling, bruising little spitfire that is learning how to listen to Mommy and Daddy. Yay Parker! But they are both boys, through and through.

I'm sort of a home-maker. I dislike most things housework, although I love the way the house looks when it's clean. I wish I could do something once and have it done. I hate re-doing things multiple times over. Those of you with kids know that this is sadly not a possibility. Until they come out with the touch-free child, things move. And fall. And break. And move some more. And hide. You should have seen me looking for the matches today. I actually called my mom six hours away to ask if she remembered where they had been placed on Sunday. Go Mom, I found them while we were on the phone. Used to be she'd have to walk into the room for me to find something, now I guess I just have to call her. Progress.

Anyway, housework. Ick. My favorite part of being a stay-at-home-mom is the mom part. My kids are such a joy. Even when they're giving me gray hair at age 27 (am I really that old?) and pulling kitchen chairs down on themselves, or tipping over the full garbage can and testing out the splatter radius of half a box of cheerios on the dining room floor that I just swept. They're just that great that they can get away with all this stuff. Must be nice. I wish I could get away with half the stuff they do. Of course, if you listen to my mother for any length of time, you'll hear about how some friends and I dumped flour all over her kitchen floor. But we got punished for that :P

Wow, ramble much? Guess this thing might just get some use after all. :)