Whoever names it, claims it

It's been a while. Sorry. It's not that my boys have been uncharacteristically funny its just that I have been tired. The holidays seemed to have worn me out. That being said this was just too funny not to jot down.

They had been sitting at the table eating their afternoon snack when apparently last nights round of tacos and burritos decided to grace us again with its presence via route Ethan's behind. David hates hearing the "f" word out of children's mouths (can you blame him?) so we have told the children to use the word "stinky" I know, I know... lame, but the alternatives are worse. I would probably roll over laughing every time my kids used "poof" or "bum puff" or whatever.  That being said, Ethan farted! This was no stinky. I mean like pretty much man fart and I got to be honest it scared me a little. I expected to turn around and see a full sized man or at least a 5 foot troll standing where my tiny little offspring sat. I was so startled by said eruption that I nearly screamed out "Who on earth was that" Ethan is my little shy boy when it comes to being embarrassed. He also knew that its totally fine and everyone does it, but one must excuse himself. We may not be able to control our bodies expelling gases but we are not barbarians. The ability to beg one's pardon is what separates us from the animals. So he sheepishly apologized and said "it was me" Caleb sitting next to him and out of no where says very defiantly "No, it was me" Ethan looking just as confused as to where that came from as me says "No.... it was me"

"Nope! It was me. I stinkied"

"No Caleb! It was me"

Of course this turned into a little game and they bantered back and forth a few times until Caleb apparently having picked up on the art of intimidation by making oneself larger (this one he must have picked up from the nature shows we have watched... you know the ones with the bobbing birds and who has the biggest breast gets the ladies) stands up on the kitchen table bench and in the deepest, loudest and most growling monster voice the kid could muster yells in Ethan's face "NO! IT WAS ME!!!!"

Poor Ethan, sensing that there was really no way out of this, says "Fine, whatever....it was you", looks at me with a look that could not have said more clearly if he has said it aloud "what the crap is with him" and heads into the play room to play with his trains. Caleb, clearly very proud of himself, sits back down to finish the rest of his snack. I proceed promptly to the computer.

Just call me Mr. Grinch

I had been trying really hard to have a good holiday spirit and make the season bright for Juan and Paco (seasonal call signs for Ethan and Caleb) and not be like uber monster mom from hades. Probably could have done better but due to said holiday season I had eaten Caleb's weight in candies and goodies and was in sugar toxic overload and kind of crabby. Also Project Big Daddy (David's seasonal call sign) and I had spent like 3 nights in a row staying up into the wee hours of the morning making these awesome looking pillow pets for the boys. I am super grateful that those were the fad this year and not tickle me Elmo because I don't think we could have pulled those off. Anyway, we were busy being crafty and were running on no sleep, so I told the boys on the morning of Christmas Eve to go play in their toy room and I was going to snooze with the baby. Have done it before (bad mommy habits revealed) I thought I could hopefully get a good 45 minutes out of them. I got an hour. I almost didn't believe my good fortune until I went into the front room and found my two darling little boys in front of the Christmas tree having had opened one of Paco's presents and there was wrapping paper everywhere. Ethan is a genius for two reasons. 1- He chose Caleb's present to open and not any of his own therefore Caleb should be the one to receive my wrath and 2- When I was standing there with my mouth gaping wide he said "But mom.... it's Christmas. You said we only had to wait until Christmas" He did have a good point. Caleb had been trying to convince me for days that because the lights were on the Christmas tree that it was Christmas and we should open the presents so the fact that we actually made it to Christmas eve was pretty amazing. Seriously I am having a hard time combating the logic of my 2 and 4 year olds. I am seriously screwed when they turn 8. So because David the night before had strongly encouraged me to try and have a loving and scream free Christmas eve and in all honesty I had no idea of what to say or do, I calmly told them to go play in their room where they stayed in of their own accord for the next hour. Its probably what saved them from having all their presents taken to the tip top of Mount Crumpit. My father in law of course thought it was hilarious and looking back on it, it probably was. Sometimes I would think it would be funny to have hidden cameras on me to see my reaction because I know there would be some doosies but then you might also see me picking my nose or wiping the babies snot and/or drool on my pants or something. (more bad mommy habits revealed. Thinking about starting another blog) I made it safely through the rest of the day and even dared the store for a few last moment items for Christmas day and remarkably was in and out in 25 minutes. It was a freaking Christmas miracle.

Riding in cars with boys

My children are hilarious. They probably get it from me. That's all I'll say about that.

Once again my story takes place in the car. I had just dropped David off at work and was heading for the really bad idea of going to the store on a Saturday afternoon 2 weeks before Christmas. Luckily fate smiled fondly on me and had me in such stitches before I got there that I actually had a pleasant afternoon with the boys. Out of nowhere Ethan pipes up from the back seat holding the long since dead and canceled Verizon cell phone that keeps them occupied behind me with "Command, command. Come in command. Anton, are you there?"
Not entirely sure of who "Anton" is and whether or not I should respond in place of Anton, I wearily turn my head to the side and say
"Hello?"

"Command, we have a serious problem here. I need your help Anton"

Still not quite knowing where this is going but willing to go along (David loves that about me;) I decide to fully embrace the persona of Anton and have fun with my kid.

"What seems to be the problem there..... whats your call sign again?"

"Cand"

"Right, Cand. Ok what is your problem"

"Well command, it looks like someone has stolen the machine. I can probably fix it but I am going to need some tools. Can you get a hold of Crow and send him with some tools?"

"Sure thing Cand. Hang on a minute. Crow, come in Crow. Are you there"

In comes Caleb because I am obviously talking to him. Now mind you this is my feisty child that is moved by no one and if he doesn't want to play then he will make it very well known. And he is two and doesn't enunciate very well. I am his own mother and can't understand half the crap he says. Just think crotchety old woman here.

"I not Crow. I Taydub. I not talking to jew!"

"Sorry about that Cand. Crow doesn't seems to be available at the moment. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Oh man. I was really hoping Crow could help me out"

Ethan looks longingly at Caleb

"I say I not talking to jew!"

"I think you are right Anton. Crow is not going to be much help. Oh my goodness this isn't good. What are we going to do?"

"What's the matter Cand. It sounds like something else has gone wrong. What can I do."

"Oh man. Some one else has taken all the apricot seeds. Now we will run out of food and probably die!"

"Easy there Cand. Keep it together soldier. No one is going to die. Not you, not me, not even Crow over there"

"I SAY I NOT TALKING TO JEW!"

"You are right Anton. I can do this! But we are going to have to stop the space ship so we can re-supply. How long is until landing?"

"Looks like we are going to be at the store, I mean landing spot in about 3 minutes. Is that going to work?"

"Sounds great command. I am going to go prepare for the secret mission."

We then got to the store and for the next 45 minutes it was "Anton, I think we need more apples than that" or "Anton, do you really think we should be getting that chocolate? It is not really healthy and can make you overweight" That is when I really wanted to follow in Crow's foot steps with a "I not talking to jew" but motherly refrain. It was almost funnier to watch the people that started to follow us throughout the store so they could hear the rest of the saga. I think I got stopped 4 times that day with how cute my kids were and how wonderful I was to be playing with them like that. If that is all it takes to get praise and recognition then I think I am going to start acting like a crazy person more often. I felt like a good mom that day and all I had to do was pick up the walkie when someone called out desperately for "command"

Great... I bet Santa Claus is next

I think one of the nicest things about being a parent is being able to see the world through your child's eyes occasionally. Especially when you are stressed about how are we going to pay the bills this month, am I being a good mother, or how am I going to make it through another day without seriously killing someone..... seriously.... one of your kids shares their view of the world and suddenly those worries take back seat for a while and you can just smile.

Ethan and Caleb were playing with these purple satin shoulder wraps that I made for my sisters wedding that they love to use as doll blankets, king robes, sumo wrestling underwear... whatever. Today they were capes. Ethan says to me,

"Mom, I really want to learn how to fly for real"

I smile and think "so cute!" and then have to be the one to break it to him that people can't really fly and the only way we can is on airplanes. My son being the one to have a solution for every problem says

"Superman can fly. I will just learn from him"

Huh. That's a good point. Why do  I have to be the bearer of bad news and tell my wonderfully imaginative son that superman is not real. I might as well smack him across the face. The divvying of the parental responsibilities has gotten a little skewed, I think. David taught him the ABC's, I teach him to pee standing up. David has the cool job at the airport that they like to talk about all day, I destroy his childhood dreams. This kind of sucks. Deep breath....

"Honey, Superman is not really real. He can't really fly. He is just a character that someone made up for pretend."

Look of absolute horror. I hate myself. But after a moment of letting it sink in, his expression suddenly changes to one of hope and excitement. I am confused....

"Wait, Mom.... I know what will fix this"

He runs into the toy room and promptly destroys it from the sound of things and then comes running out with his daddy's old batman cape. Of course, how silly could I be. He just had the wrong cape. Now certainly he can fly. But there is no way in hell I am going to tell him now that Batman couldn't really fly either but rather jumped off tall buildings using grappling hooks and ropes to keep his butt from splatting on the concrete. I'm only going to burst one bubble today

In need of recipe for humble pie

I have extremely intelligent children. I know that, David knows that and anyone who spends five minutes reading my blog knows that. In a world where self esteem is so hard to grasp or have a healthy sense of, I have no problem telling my children just how smart, creative and even good looking they are. This might all come to bite me in the rear one day. Hopefully no worse than this morning.

Ethan: "Mom, do you want to pretend that you are me?"

Me: "Ok... sure...Why am I pretending that I am you?"

Ethan: "So you can be smart"

Me: "But I am your mother. I am smart"

Ethan: "Hmmm.... not as smart as me"

Me: "Really.... OK well, I will pretend to be you and you can pretend to be me and you can do the laundry"

Ethan: "No thank you. Not today"


So he goes into his play room to play and I slink to the bathroom to regroup and give myself the "Yes you are smart, no matter what the four year old says" talk in the mirror, whisper under my breath several "WTF" and silently pray that I am not raising a narcissist. Goal for today...finish the laundry. Goal for tomorrow.... instill sense of humility in child #1

Sonny has got a point

I've been a little bit bad lately about bribing the kids with various things. It's bad I know but I take comfort in the fact that I try to make it somewhat fun or healthy things and not just sugar or crap. Yesterdays "If you relax and stop acting crazy I will...." was watching drill routines of Filipino inmates to soundtracks of various Micheal Jackson songs. Somewhere in my searches on Youtube I came across some music videos of MJ himself and thought that might be fun. Although to be honest the first couple I started, I ended early because there is only so much crouch groping a four and two year old should see. All your judgements aside, I found a few that were just fun. We were watching "They don't really care about us" and it was pretty much MJ just dancing around in a public street. It was one of his later songs though so he looked like.... well the way Micheal Jackson did in his later years. Ethan pipes up with, "Mom is Micheal Jackson a girl?" I of course said that he was a man and to never let your pa hear you say that. He then said "Well, he has long hair and make up on. I think he is a girl" I told him that some boys like to have their hair long and wear make up. He said he thought that was pretty funny and he still thought Micheal was a girl. Kind of made me start thinking. He was a little odd. Maybe he really did turn himself from a black man to a white woman? The things I spend my days pondering really get me wondering if I have anything better to do. In the mean time, the boys and I will enjoy the incarceration practices of the east and eat pop corn while doing so. What will we think about tomorrow?

"So thats why..."

We were walking in the park the other day going for an adventure walk when our latest "line of questioning" occurred. Because my boys are boys, they are inherently fascinated by poop. Who isn't, right? It's because of this that they became the poop patrol on our walk and made sure that no one in our family was going to step on any poo. So every time we saw the left overs from some inconsiderate fur loving friend, they would yell out at the top of their lungs "MOM, DON'T STEP ON THE POO!!" Like I could really miss the huge pile of crap that blocked my way. Well, it just so happened that this particular particulate was on the smaller and rounder end of the turd sizing chart and that struck Ethan as odd. He then proceeded to explain it was because everyone is different and has different shapes of butt holes and that is why their poop is different. Some people have really big butt holes so their poo is really big and some are small so their poo is small. It all made perfect sense. Really big butt holes are full of a lot of crap. My son is a genius.