Milo's first trip to a Mall. That is in the throws of pre-Christmas shopping vomit all over everywhere you turn. Where there are stores. With lots of shit 3 year olds love to have/destroy/rip/throw. And, yet, he was good. Angelic even. Even when he insisted on going into Spencers and he picked up a fun looking box and says, "What THAT mama?" "It's a beer bong, honey, put it down, please, that's not a toy for you. Yet."
Look at this kid gazing at the water fountain. I didn't even have to give him Benedryl. Fuck yeah.
Xmass gifts that come in the mail are immediately opened. Especially if they're from Grandma E.! Coincidentally, the UPS man dropped this on our porch JUST BEFORE NAPTIME. *knock knock* "LOOK MAMA! PRESENTS! OPEN IT!! So, guess who refused to lay down until *SOMEONE* put this bad boy together -note: i had to actually READ directions. This is not my FAVE. AND insert batteries. But it made him happy. It made for a LONG day, but whatevs...
At a birthday party. Milo sees the ginormous cake, looks up at me (see above) and says, "I eat cake NOW, mommy?!"
A must to eat Nutella and spend some time "outside the kitchen table."
Important to run with the balls
An important to just run
Also an important to get thee to a bath on an occasion
It's safe to say this kid is going to break many a hearts.
'Specially mines.
It's a curse to breed such good looking children... le sigh...
Or maybe he won't be voted biggest flirt. He'll be the class clown.
Most likely to make you laugh milk out of your nose...
for now, the superlative goes to...
most likely to be loved by his mama...
aww...
and on the otherside of the rainbow..
(friday 9/30/11, dusk)
there's a 3 year old who is going through some phases...up, down, twist and shout,
follow the unpredictable and colorful pathways...
Some say the "terrible twos" others say "terrible threes." We're on the terrible three team.
It's like "opposite day." But everyday is opposite day. And then when you give him what he asks for he cries about it and says he wants the other thing. It's pretty fun. Especially when you're up every 2 hours at night to nurse a floppy baby.
"Enjoy this time."
Oh I AM.
For example, it's saturday morning and I decide to take both boys to the library. Dad stays home to get another hour of sleep. After an hour at the library I ask Milo,
"Do you want to stay for storytime at the library or go to the playground?"
"I want storytime."
So he sits with a few other toddlers and grabs an egg to shake along with the music. After a minute, he returns the egg and says to me,
"I want to go to the playground."
So we get in the car, I strap in a sleeping Ari. I strap in a content Milo. I get in, put the car in reverse...
And then there is synchronized crying. It should be an Olympic event. (parents of at least 2 children, can you feel me?)
I make the executive decision to NOT go to the playground. NOT go back to library. Sad children need to go home.
Fifteen LONG minutes later...we arrive home. Crying/whining/screaming/end of the world noise is still full on.
The baby is soothed by nursing. Milo, however, is sent to his room to continue his tantrum without an audience. Not a time out, just time to vent his frustrations over being wishy washy and beyond reason and completely ridiculous. I suddenly hear banging and kicking on the walls and punching/banging on a window. Paired with blood-curling screams of anger.
Toddler rage issues are awesome...
I'm starting to remember why I picked up smoking again shortly after I gave birth to Milo.
Good thing Milo is of the age where he demands to exhibit his increasing independence. "I DO IT!" is most definitely his favorite words to string together. As I continue to marinate in my nausea-fatigue coma, my little "I DO IT" man is learning the fine art of independent play mixed with a little 2 year old imagination...
Playing with Magna Tiles. This is pretty much one of those daily toys. Milo loves putting together a "house." And then fist pumping the house across the room. Seaside-Jersey style.
Eatting dinner a scoop of peanut butter. (Yes, that's me with my legs stretched out. Sitting on the couch. Yup.)
Milo contemplates breast augmentationplays with his balls... I should be banned from captioning pictures until I develop some couth...
My boys, putting on a concert for me. Doctor? Rock Star? Either one is cool by me!
Smoking a J. Catching a case of the major sillies.
Cleaning shelves. With body lotion. Very expensive lotion I might add.
Looking at porn Playing Call of Duty: Black Ops with daddio.
After tearing through all the layers of gifts from family/friends/Santa, we decided to bundle up the family and head out to the...BEACH. Yes, it's cold and it's December and it's about to snow, and some people rather cozy up to Call of Duty: Black Ops and drink a boozy citrus beverage, but the fresh air was a pure love-burn to my lungs!
And it was calling my name!!
Or something like that...
I mean, really. Can't a 2 year old just *pause* for 2 seconds for a picture?
Did he walk into the water? Do you have to ask?
my handsome, rugged, hunk-a-hunk of burning love
I like ducks.
I also like picture captioning. I'll call this one: Doing Epic Shit on the Beach, Christmas Day.
People I spent Christmas Eve/Day with.
husband/son/ladyfriend of brother/brother.
I might be on a mision to touch base with every other pumpkin-rides-hay maze gathering uppers in the area. This particular one didn't excite the likes of Milo, unfortch. Maybe it was too close to naptime. Maybe it was the hoards of families in a relatively tight area. Which means lines. Which requires patience. All these things equals a short stay and ending with a screaming, biting, swinging toddler in the strong and capable arms of daddy...
And w/o further ramble, here are the pho-toes:
Whoa. Good morning everybody!
eh. hay maze.
hay jungle gym thing. whatevs.
Horse ride? Not too, too bad...
Barrel ride? Been there, done this...
Hey ani-mawls. What's good?
This doesn't quite capture the *magic* of the E's leaving...but we were totally THAT family with THAT kid that won't CHILL THE HELL OUT.
At least, I made one mom with 3 kids very happy -I handed her a fist full of unused tickets. I hope she -and her kids- had a good time...
Being a parent of a boy and all, I'm understanding more and more when they say, "he's ALL BOY."
And, of course, it's a good thang, but damn, does it urge me to stay in touch with my tom boy side...
Not that I was ever a girly girl. I didn't get my first manicure until I was 25. Didn't get my eyebrows waxed until I saw my High School Senior pics (18yo) and my mom made a lovely comment about my bushy uni-brow...
Didn't shave my legs until last week.
I joke...I joke...
So here's this son 'o mine who:
Bungee jumps-like off the couch and bed.
He'll attempt to climb trees, arms up, pleading the branches for "up, up, up!"
He gets in his little car and scoot himself down little hills of the sidewalk, like a roller coaster.
Climbs up ladders at the playground and slides down head first...
He'll do "surprise trust falls" on unsuspecting friends.
Proudly shoves his finger up his nose and giggles hysterically when I redirect the hand and say "ewwww..."
Puts his hand down his diaper...while watching T.V.
Squats in the bathtub, watches himself pee and/or poo, then looks up with a big grin of pride on his face
Could care less about dirt. Or scraped knees. Or dirt-ridden toes or fingernails...
And then there's this. Where did he learn this from. DAD?!
What I do appreciate is when my little human wrecking ball bumps his head, falls, or otherwise causes himself pain, he can easily get up, brush himself off and move forward. He may need a quick cuddle of reassurance, but then he is quickly squirming away and off to conquer what knocked him down.
My little Bam Bam...
But when I deny him another spoonfull of peanut butter? Or refuse to open a gate to let him fetch something he tossed over? Or otherwise say "no" to some seemingly pointless object that he Must. Have. NOW...?
Look out -because tough guy becomes a hot hysterical mess in .2 seconds...
and boy, does he play it up...
Before I moved to Motherland, USA I would occasionally find myself on the phone with a mama who had a screaming child in the background, and I would blame the piss poor parenting skills of the mama.
Yup, that is on that list I call "Naivete: pre-baby social skills of the ignorant."
I know you've been checking this blog out, like, every day x3, just to see the same post over and over because I haven't posted the latest and greatest of your grandson in about a week or so.
And, OH MY YES have things changed. Like, one, he now sleeps on the floor. If you follow me on FB (and I know you're stalking me there, too) we have broken down his crib. The one that was recalled a year ago (that I never did anything about).
OMG I let your grandson sleep in a RECALLED CRIB!! For a YEAR!
Where was I?
So the crib is/was a convertible crib. Which, when I bought the thing, I thought was a, like the Brit Brits say, BRILLIANT idea. Because it's supposed to last an American Lifetime. So, aside from the whole recall bullshit, when you convert the damn bed to a "toddler" bed, it's still HIGH UP OFF THE FLOOR. So, yeah, either buy a crib tent (which, By the FREAKIN' way) is not easy to find one that fits a CONVERTIBLE bed or buy one of those side railing things, WHICH, By the FREAKIN' way, unless you are a FOWARD thinking kind of parent (nice job and gold star if you are) and already have these assessories in your home or happen to live right next store to a babys R (rippin' us off) us...
Where was I?
So persons like MOI have to make due and QUICK because YOUR GRANDSON is slippin' himself out of the crib like a FREAKIN' NINJA. NO Joke. Seriously...So, he's in his crib, sleeping, orzo I THOUGHT. I'm down the short hall folding laundry (not joking, I really am folding laundry) and I hear a door moan open. I think it's a cat going into Milo's room. So, imagine my surprise when I see Milo in his doorway. Like a mirror image we both jump in surprise at seeing the other. His lips suck in, his eyes avert in a sheepish way and I, half in surprise, half in WTF is going on! turn him around and lift him back to his crib.
So we do this about 5 or 20 so times until he finally gives in and falls asleep in his crib.
In and out of the crib
In and out of the crib
In and out of the crib.
Not even ONE NOISE was made.
Again, the little sucker is a NINJA. At 21 months.
So the husb comes home and I tell him about how his little seedling can swoop himself out of the crib without so much as a Thump-a-Thud.
So we the husb takes off the front end of the crib. And this is what transpires the next day when putting him down for a nap:
Think he did this accidentally? Nope!
p.s. All those pillows and blankets are on the floor to *protect* him from falling. His room isn't usually in this ungodly disarray. Trust.
This is what I think about you taking apart my bed: DESTROY!
Over and Over. We are having so much fun now.
And then?
Let's take the mattress off!!
2 hours later...
Finally, he naps...
And for your viewing enjoyment, here's a little video of which has amused me for hours...
So now?
We've had to bid adieu to the crib. And Milo is left with this:
kinda sad, really. but, hey, safety first...
Also? I've done away with ALL the bottles. No more BOTTLES. Too much for one week?
So, mom...I'm really looking foward to seeing you tomorrow! You'll be here at 1:00? Just in time to put him down for a nap!!
