Photo Fave!

I absolutely HAVE to find a contest to enter this picture in...it's just priceless!! Check out how happy my son and his cousins were to participate in two hours of pictures before the wedding in which they were flower girls/ring bearer. Too cute...

Obsessed with Snuggies

The Short One is a walking infomercial for Snuggies. I promise he is. You know, those things that are like blankets with sleeves? Seriously...what happened to just wrapping a blanket around you? I'm not knocking them, I just don't really understand the concept. All I know is, my son wants one. He wants one bad. He's four, why does he want a Snuggie? He has asked for it time and time again for his upcoming birthday. I mean, easy gift...I saw them on clearance at a Target about an hour away for $12...it's just the fact that...is that REALLY what you want or are the infomercials brainwashing you? On the way home today he told me that he wanted Snuggies for himself AND for the dog. Uh - the 140lb dog?! He said, "Yes, mama, we can both get a Snuggie AND we'll get a pair of socks with it...did you know that? Did you know that you can take your Snuggie ANYwhere?? In the car, to the movies, anywhere!"... is my four year old son seriously buttering me up for a SNUGGIE??? He just told me they were SO good I could put him to sleep in it. And that he would take the color "rockin' blue". Oh my...I mustn't fail him. In search of Snuggies, here I go...

The Short One Goes for a Ride

I got a phone call at work today. My husband. "When you see D's hand, I want you to know what happened. I caught him, but his hand is sliced open"...always great to start a conversation like that...So it seems while my husband had his hands full of boxes to ship at the post office, on his way to load The Short One into the car for preschool, he pressed the button to open the garage door and The Short One grabbed onto the handle of the door - you know, the one you can use to open it manually if it isn't working. Well, believe it or not, it took him all the way to the top of the garage, feet dangling about my husband's car, eyes as big as his head (I'm told). Needless to say, the boxes were tossed as my husband darted under my son to catch him...he was afraid to stay, afraid to let go...but finally my husband coaxed him into letting go and he caught him, but his hand was cut on the way down. Now, that I've seen his hand and know that he's okay, I find it comical, picturing him dangling there...because he wasn't hurt - but he could have been! I very seriously doubt he will do it again. My husband said he tries most mornings to grab the handle and I suppose with my husband's hands full of boxes, he saw an opening...a fun ride. Little did he know it would take him all the way up so quickly, to the "tippy top" as he told me when I got home this afternoon. Want me to be honest? Now...the more I think about it, the harder I laugh. ;) So, if you have a little guy, watch out for that handle on the garage door...it may appear "enticing"...

A New Animal Group Via The Short One

So we're reading a book last night about animals. Each page has a category of animals with various animals on the page. For example, one page was Safari Animals: Zebra, Elephant, etc. The next page was Farm Animals: Cow, Pig, Horse, etc. Each page had about 10 animals on it and some of them were rather difficult...predators, types of birds, but...The Short One was doing pretty well...until...

We got to the "Animals as Pets" page...and I thought, this will be the easiest page yet! After all, we've already gone through all the baby animal names, Lemur, Bobcat, Puffin...we've got this pet thing DOWN. Well, as I pointed to the animal, he named it..."Cat, Dog, Goldfish, Ferret"...he even got ferret?! Then I point to the Gerbil. And what does he say??

Zhu Zhu Pet!!

Aaahhh...confusion...thanks to the lovely and rather wealthy creators of the much loved Zhu Zhu Pets...lol

The Short One Strikes Again

We went out to eat last night with my father-in-law, brother-in-law, mom, dad and of course - "us"...my little family. On the way there I was riding in the back with The Short One. I leaned over, gave him a kiss on the cheek and he said, "Mom, that was a HOT kiss"...lol. His daddy turned around and looked at him from the front seat and said, "Son, one day, about ten years down the road, I'm going to tell you what you just said and you're going to THROW UP"...hehehe. Ah...if they could always love their mommies like that...

Honesty and The Short One

So my sweet Short One had to be taken to the hospital today for blood work and an ultrasound on his kidneys. He's been having some problems with symptoms much like a UTI or Kidney Infection, the doctor was concerned, so he scheduled some tests. Please keep my sweet little bit in your prayers as my family is believing for positive news and good test results.

When we go ANYWHERE with a wait...the doctor, the dentist, the mechanic...I've learned to be prepared. We had books. We had the Leapster. After reading four books, The Short One was playing his Leapster when I leaned over and said, "I am SO proud of you. You are being such a brave, well-behaved boy"...to which The Short One, without even looking up from his game, replies, "Mom, it's because I'm playing this and it's keeping me out of trouble." As I laughed he said, "REALLY, mom...it is"...well then, let's just tie that Leapster to your arm, okay kiddo? ;) Honesty...I hope it never ends...

Cracking Down or Cracking Up?

Do you ever have one of those moments when you should be supporting your significant other, disciplining your child, but you find yourself holding back your laughter and hiding behind something because you're about to BURST out laughing?? I had one of those moments tonight.

We had a loooong night last night. The Short One was up alll night whining, saying he heard a robber, call the police, I need to snuggle and on and on and on. I ended up in his twin bed with him at one point. He ended up in between my husband and I in our bed at another point. We just all tossed and turned all night. He was faking. He was MAKING himself physically tremble. We had a 120lb dog asleep in the hall. We had our security system on...trust me...NO ONE was "robbing" our house. The Short One is going through this phase where he REFUSES to go to sleep - no matter how early I put him to bed, no matter how long I read to him, tuck him in, check for monsters, etc...is it a phase???? Whatever it is, it's getting old.

So...tonight my husband told him he was limiting his TV intake. He was NOT watching anything remotely scary. His exact words were, "I'm cracking down on your TV shows". They talked back and forth, naming a few cartoons specifically that would be off limits, The Short One whined, "daddy" stood his ground and once again, said more sternly, "I am cracking down"...to which The Short One replied, "You mean up"...

I almost lost it. I had to turn around and look at the wall. Cracking UP instead of cracking DOWN?? How did he even make that quick connection and turn it around so smoothly? I was impressed...Cracking up, cracking down...I just want to sleep tonight!!

Homework Lessons with The Short One

So my son, a.k.a. The Short One, doesn't like homework. We've figured this out already at the early age of four. He only goes to school three half days a week, so it's not like he has LOTS of homework. His preschool teacher has asked that we practice writing his name...ALOT. The Short One is smart. I know he's smart. I've been told by friends and strangers...he's smart. However, it's how we channel our "smartness" that makes all the difference. For The Short One, he doesn't like to sit still. He can do ALL things IF he wants to. I reviewed spelling his name with him for MONTHS, trying to get him to remember. It wasn't until I said, "You know that toy store that's JUST for kids? I bet there's something really special for you in there if you can tell daddy how to spell your name"...at this point he asks, "Momma, HOW do you spell my name again?"...from that point on - HE HAD IT. He knows it. It's a year later and he still knows. Because...Toys R Us made all the difference.

A few weeks ago his teacher sent home practice sheets for him to write his name. I found myself caught up in the ramblings and reasonings of a four year old. It went something like this...

Mom, I know how to spell my name, why should I have to WRITE it?

Mom, I'm only four. Why do I even have homework? I'm not in big boy school yet.

Mom, Ms. J's class doesn't have homework, why does Ms. D's class have homework?

I think Ms. D said to practice once, not a lot.

I don't WANT to write my name.

I CAN'T write my name.

It will take me forEVER.

If you get me some pudding, I MIGHT write my name.

And then I remembered...I'M the mom. No arguing. No reasoning. Just. Because. I. Am. Your. Mother. This doesn't go over well with The Short One. He wants logic. He wants answers. He wants to know why. At some point in our conversation, as The Short One was still talking, I folded his beloved blanket, reached up to place it on top of the refrigerator and something magical happened. I turned around and his homework sheet was FINISHED. Done. It was as if the homework fairy swooped down and sprinkled her fairy dust. You see, The Short One has a love affair with his blanket. Better known in our home as "tag". Because he rubs tag, he loves her, it's his snuggly. And in times like this, it comes in great handy. Thank you, Tag, for helping out with homework time. I may love you more than D, The Short One.

The Short One Remembers the Rules

So The Short One came home the other day with a note from his preschool saying they are now a "peanut free zone"...with a HUGE picture of a peanut and a big red "X" over it. Okay. Fine with me. If my son were allergic, I would want his school to do the same thing. However, I have mixed feelings on this. You know, there are A LOT of kids allergic to A LOT of things...and in a way, I think - Hey! I buy Uncrustables, throw them in my son's lunchbox, he likes them AND it makes my life easier - don't take that away from me!! But another part of me says, okay, if my child were allergic to peanuts, I would want the school to do the same thing. You can't reason with 2,3,4 year olds and tell them, "Remember, don't eat anything with peanuts", because it just doesn't work that way. Anyway, with that being said...I FORGOT ABOUT THE NOTE. I'm usually REALLY good about that stuff, but I had an event at school (where I work) this week which made for a really long night and my son only goes to school 3 days a week, so somewhere during the time he was NOT in school...I.forgot.not.to send. "THE" sandwich.

When The Short One came home from preschool on Wednesday he said, "Are you trying to get me KICKED OUT OF SCHOOL?!?!" Ummm...what? "Mom! We are NOT supposed to bring peanut butter. Some kids are ALLERGIC. Did you PLANT that in my lunchbox?!"

And how does he know the word "plant"??

So...my mouth falls open...I AM SO SORRY!! I forgot! What did your teacher say? Did you get in trouble? She didn't send another note in your backpack...I was thinking snacks, cup cakes, I didn't even THINK about your sandwich.

To which he says, "Well good thing Ms. D didn't notice. Don't worry mom, I kept it under cover. But next time, get me a lunchable, okay?"

Well, it looks like he's going to get his way THIS TIME. Good thing HE has a good memory. Maybe I should just put that peanut with the big red "X" on his school calendar...then I'll look at it every day...and hopefully...remember.

Looks like I know what I'll be taking to work for lunch for a while...sandwiches from that giant box of Uncrustables I just bought. Yummy.

Dear Lincoln Logs:

Dear Lincoln Logs,

I love you. My son has been playing with you for hours. I was worried. He's quiet. He is still. He isn't jumping off the couch, spinning like a top on the floor, jumping on the bed, going through the pantry, climbing in a chair, riding on the dog or "creating" with spoons, underwear, crayons, jewelry or other things he's found in mommy and daddy's drawers. He's. Just. Sitting. And...building. He's built a house. He's built a fort. He's now building a fence. He's not asking for help. He's not talking at all. He's not about to fall off something. He's sitting. On BOTH butt cheeks. What do you put in your blocks? Is it magic dust? I hope it's not harmful. It must be awfully powerful to have such control over my usually "active" son. Movies can't do it. Activity or coloring books can't do it. Cooking with mommy can't do it. Playing GI Joe with daddy can't do it. How do YOU do it? He's been in his playroom for over an hour. I keep peeking in on him because it is SO quiet in there. I mean scary quiet. Spiderman can't do this. Batman can't do this. The Green Lantern can't do this. The Leapster can't do this. I. need. more. blocks. I promise to buy every new set you come out with if you will please make more. I need a set for every room, the cars and preschool. Will you send me the recipe?

Sincerely...

The Short One's Mom

Chapel with The Short One

Life always gets interesting after Chapel. The Short One attends Chapel each Wednesday at his Pre-K. I love it. I think it is VITALLY important to instill worship, morals and the Christian faith in children at a young age. While I enjoy sharing my faith and reading Bible stories to my son, it is important to me that he interact with other individuals who practice that faith as well, so that he is not only seeing it within his home, but at work out in the world where we live and interact. With that being said, we're all for Chapel. However, we usually have some new trial or tribulation after Chapel. It's usually amusing, humorous...and it makes me laugh. Although, I try not to laugh in front of The Short One because he takes it oh-so-seriously. For example, our last issue was due to the story of Samson and Delilah. You see, I didn't even know they had studied the story of Samson and Delilah until the weekend after Chapel...when it was time for "The Short One" to get his hair cut. He carried on, he didn't want to go, he was going to knock the scissors out of her hand and so the whining went. Getting a haircut has never been an issue before...so I'm thinking, what in the WORLD? Until it all comes out... MOM! What if that lady cuts my hair off and then I lose all my strength like Samson and I can't wrestle with daddy anymore or build castles at school because I'm not strong!!! Ooookay...so we have a nice big helping of imagination in our household. But I have to be careful with the "no, that can't happen" because then we go down this road..."So Bible stories are fairy tales?"... Hmmm...come on God, help a momma out...I'm getting into one predicament after another in the realm of explanations...

So, our latest Chapel event comes out tonight. And...I must say, I found it rather funny. My child is definitely alll boy. I've told him before that Jesus holds the world in his hands - we love singing "He's Got the Whole World In His Hands". So, in Chapel this week, the focus was the same - God takes care of us, He is holding us. Tonight, "The Short One" asks, "Momma, is Jesus holding me? Is He holding me allll the time? But I can't feel Him? Will He let go of me? Momma, are you sure? If He DOES let go of me, will I fall?" And here I am, being serious yet trying to be somewhat simple for a four year old mind to understand. Yes, He's holding you. Always. You can't feel it, usually...you will just know. He won't drop you. I promise. Therefore, you won't fall.

But "The Short One" wasn't convinced. And finally, after rounds of conversation...it comes out. Why the questions were asked. Not because I have a truly interested child wanting to understand the lessons being taught in Chapel about his Heavenly Father, but because..."Well mom, are you sure he won't drop me? Because, if He's holding me right now, I just tooted on Him".

Laugh. That's all you can do. AND be thankful we have a Father that won't drop us...even when we "toot"...lol

The Short One Tells the World...

Kids talk. They talk a lot. I can't remember the exact day my son started repeating everything I said or the exact day he started speaking in a volume far above the rest of the world, but I do remember THIS day...the day he made an announcement to the women in the restroom at Wal-Mart. You see, we were shopping together. Just the two of us. Just The Short One and...mom (me). Usually, believe it or not, my son is a pretty good kid when it comes to using the restroom, but on this particular day...he had to go potty...and he had to go BAD. So, off we go - to the Women's Restroom. As I'm going back and forth with my sweet, sweet son about why we MUST go to the women's restroom, even though he is a "man", we finally make our way into the stall. My little short one stands, potties...all done. So easy for them, eh? Then, I decide...better go ahead and go myself while we're there. So, I squat. That's what we do, right? My restroom motto is this...never, ever touch ANYTHING. Sometimes I even make The Short One hold his hands on his hips or above his head - just to keep him from touching "the germs". On this day, as I squat...I see my son peek around behind me. And he yells, for all of Wal-Mart to hear, something I could have done without ANYONE knowing. Not because I'm ashamed, not because it's a secret, but because...there are just things you don't share with the world...TMI, you know? Until my son takes it upon himself to share and share loudly.

My mistake. To use the restroom. Why did I do that? I should have known better. No potty with The Short One...lol. Regardless, I decide to "tinkle" as we call it in our house. I'm a female. I don't want to touch anything. I squat. The Short One scoots around to the side/behind me and in his oh-so-quite, but not really voice says, "Momma! I see your tattoo!"...at this point I'm shush, shush, shushing until my face has turned all shades of blue from blowing all the wind out that I can possibly muster. SHHHHHHHHHH!!!! All the while, my son continues to get louder, "Momma, I see your tattoo. How did it get there? Does it NEVER go away? How do they DO that? Can I have a tattoo? My tattoos wash off. Why doesn't your tattoo wash off? It's on your faaaaaaaaaan----nnneeeee"....and so goes our day at Wal-Mart. As I come out of the stall with my son and my "tattoo" which I consider to be on the upper part of my hip (okay, it's high on my fanny), I am getting all kinds of sideways glances from the hand-washers of Wal-Mart.

Me. My son. My soft-spoken elementary school teacher voice. My "I'm really just a quite librarian" look. And my now well-known about tattoo. You might say I don't "look" like your typical "tattoo-ed" lady. I mean, what does a tattoo-ed lady look like anyway? It was college. It was a spur of the moment thing, I'm on my own, I can do whatever I want (12 years ago) kind of thing. It's inconspicuous. No one knows unless I tell them. "I" even forget that it's there. But believe me, the women of Wal-Mart that day...will not. Since The Short One has told the world...I figure...so can I.

To my Short One...Thanks, love. You make my life meaningful and memorable...love always...Momma.

We Just Wanted Milk

We try not to eat out very often. I mean, you just never know what might happen. The Short One COULD stick his hand in a plate of nachos on another table, he COULD run over to a table full or paramedics and hug them while they're eating to tell them, "Thank you for keeping me safe, policemen"...when they're not policeman at all...lol...but the thought was sweet or...The Short One COULD toss a french fry into the hair of a lady sitting nearby. I'm just saying, hypothetically, these are all things that COULD and possibly HAVE happened.

Recently we went to one of our favorite Chinese Buffet Restaurants to eat dinner. The Short One is a BIG fan of Lo Mein, so we thought that sounded like a good choice for dinner. Only, little did we know...our waitress spoke very limited English, not a big deal, right? Well, to The Short One...it was. You see, he wanted milk to drink. So, when I asked her if they had milk, she gave me a puzzled look and started talking in a language I definitely didn't understand. The Short One was in one ear whining, "I Want Milk!" and the waitress was in the other ear saying...something. I said very precisely, "Milk" and pointed to The Short One, trying one more time. She continued saying something, pointing and then...it was my husband's turn. He said, "milk?" and made the motions for milking a cow...and pointed to The Short One once more. She motioned him over to the fountain drinks, pointing, carrying on about something or other...and I finally told my husband to just order him Sprite, it was okay. Except now, The Short One was, at the top of his lungs and in some deep, strange voice I have never heard before, repeating over and over, "MEEEEE-uuuuuuuuuul-kkkk"...I mean, it must have been the longest syllable word I had ever heard. I finally got him shushed and THOUGHT we were on a completely different subject, got up, visited the buffet, sat back down and then...the waitress came back with the Sprite. At this point, The Short One got on his knees, leaned over in front of her face and with the most precise lip movements I have ever seen, once again, moans..."Meeeeeeee-uuuuuulllll-kkkkk". I quickly shushed him and it worked...for a moment. However, after this same multi-syllable MILK was said to our poor waitress a number of times, with my most sincere smile, I gently SHOVED The Short One down into his chair until she was gone and then explained why we DO NOT mimic or harass the waitress who doesn't speak English. His response? "Mom, I was just trying to help her understand"...And, I'm sure he was...enjoying it all the while.

Crafting 101: The Short One Teaches... Uses for Toilet Tissue Rolls

I've taught first, second and third grade for eight years. I've been in the library and computer lab for two additional years, teaching third through fifth graders. I went to college, graduated with a BS in Elementary Education. I had a degree. I had binders. I was prepared to teach children (I thought). I went to college, graduated AGAIN...with a Master of Library and Information Sciences. I had another degree. I had more binders. I was ready to tackle the world with Children's Lit and Technology information. But...I had no schooling in crafting. So, through my son, The Short One, I'm earning my first degree.

Lesson #1: Crafty Uses for Toilet Tissue Rolls

Now, when I think of saving toilet tissue rolls, I think of making music makers for preschoolers, butterflies with wings, mummies by wrapping toilet tissue around it, you know, "elementary things". I am, after all, elementary minded. But, The Short One had a more interesting take on how to use a toilet tissue roll. I share this with you because...I am forever amazed.

As we were eating dinner one night, The Short One jumps up, runs to the restroom and yells, "Just potty-ing, momma!"...okay...but then...I hear him rummaging through the garbage in our bathroom. I keep eating and look at my hubby...hmmm...A moment later, my son comes out...but he looks...different. He has found, in his trash rummaging, an empty toilet tissue roll. Now, remember...he's four...he comes OUT of the bathroom and I almost spit out my dinner. As I watch my son walk across the room and sit back down in his chair, he is adjusting his "find" (an empty toilet tissue roll) which is now...IN HIS PANTS. Let's just say, it's very obvious. It's strategically placed. And, it's pointing at me. As The Short One sits and adjusts his new...*ahem*...toilet tissue roll appendage...I can NOT control it any longer...I burst out laughing. At this point, The Short One runs into the other room crying, all the while mumbling, "why does everyone have to laugh at me and my giant tee-tee?" So, I turned on my straight mommy face, snuggled him up in my arms, and explained why we don't dig in the trash, why we don't put toilet tissue rolls in our underwear and why we don't talk about our "tee-tees" at the dinner table...among other things... Ahhh...a day in the life...and a lesson in crafting that I never saw coming...

The Short One Speaks Spanish

So recently my precious four year old boy was sitting on the couch with a cup full of milk - I know, mistake number one. I figure the couch is leather, the cup has a lid, we're semi-safe, yes? No. The lid comes off, the child starts to bouncing and milk goes everywhere. Before I could even see what was happening, I hear, "THAT SUCKS!"...ummm, excuse me?!?!

You see, we don't use the word "sucks" unless we're talking about a baby and a bottle or someone eating a lollipop. When I approach my sweet and precious son with, "WHAT did you just say?" I get...

What, momma?
Was it bad?
Am I not supposed to say that word?
What?
What did you HEAR me say?

To which I reply, "We do NOT say the word 'sucks'...it's not a nice word and I don't want to hear it coming out of your mouth again, do you understand?"...at which point The Short One informs with a sly chuckle and innocent grin...

"Mom, it's Spanish for 'I spilled it', okay?"

This is one of those moments when you just walk away. Do not argue with the four year old. Do not laugh when he is being disciplined. Because I wanted to do both. Just...walk...away. And, ban the Spanish language from the home...at least, temporarily.

The Short One Vs. the Tent

So, The Short One is my four year old son who is craaaazy - he makes my life have meaning. I love him more than life itself...but...he...is...insane...in a good way. Most of the time. My husband did say a few weeks ago that one of them needed medication for them to both keep from going crazy. I figure they're both a little crazy already, so we'll all be okay. It has been FREEZING cold here in Alabama and it looks like it's going to stay that way for the next week or so (please let it snow, please let it snow, please let it snow). Yesterday, because I'm "a good mommy", most of the time, I decided to put up the 8 foot tall teepee tent The Short One received from Santa. It was freezing outside. It was colder than freezing outside. I opened the garage, drug the tent from inside the garage, around the side of house, through the gate, all the while keeping the 140 lb beast of a dog, no, I'm not exaggerating, she really weighs 140lb...AWAY from the tent and INSIDE the gate. I stepped in dog poo, changed shoes, worked on the tent, went inside to get gloves so I could feel my fingers, all the while as The Short One is bouncing up and down with glee. I set up the tent, put all gazillion parts together, got it standing...somehow...although I'm 5'4" and it's 8', stake it into the ground, bring in blankets, close the crawl space and door to keep the cold out and...all the sudden...I hear a loud warrior cry. I look up to see The Short One blasting through the window of the tent as the tent that Santa paid $100 for rips from one side...to the other. I wanted to sit down and cry...but I didn't...only because I feared the tears freezing on my face and transforming me into a human icicle. And so goes life...the life I love...