Why Everyone Should Take a Toddler to the Grocery Store....

You can't possibly have lived a full life until you are perusing the produce section and your toddler shouts....

"Boobies!!!!"

And when their eyes light up as you get closer to the lovely display of blueberries (said toddler's favorite fruit) they exclaim.....

"Big boobies!!!!"

 As strangers don't even try and suppress the judging glances,  you know that you've reached full adult status because you refrain from saying.....

"I guess he's not a leg-man."

(Thanks to Kai for calling blueberries the same thing as Drew once did and reminding me of this event that took place when Drew was two years old.)
Kai circa 2009 with his cheeks stuffed full of blueberries right off the bush and looking a lot like Elmer Fudd.

Drew as a two year old playing in our yard in Greenwich, CT.

Kai Turns Two (Last March 12)

I can't say for sure what exactly it is that my newly inaugurated 2 year old thinks of as he explores the exciting and sometimes scary landscape of life.  But I have some guesses........

Kai doesn't see the big wheel as merely a three-wheeled vehicle to leisurely scoot himself around on.  He sees it as a way to test his Mama's sprinting abilities.  He sees it as a rocket to sit on as he lifts his feet up to barrel down the steep driveway headed dangerously for the road below. 

Kai's glass isn't half-empty.  It is always half-full....because it is more satisfying to dump juice out of a half-full glass.

There is no problem (or barricade) that is insurmountable for Kai.  Any object can become Mt. Everest which was meant to be scaled.  And this Mt. Everest (and all others in the house) have been taken to the dump. (pardon the blurry image)

Kai does not see placed before him the world's ugliest cake with two candles to blow out.  He views the sad looking birthday monument as a way to practice his fire eating technique so that he can run away with the circus....where he belongs.

I can tell you what I see.  I see a boy who runs like a fugitive from the hounds when he sees a Kleenex in my hand.  But he has no qualms about wiping his snoobers all over my pants.


He is a boy who loves to give hugs and kisses.....after he has walloped you with an unforgiving blunt object or one of his stumpy limbs.  The kiss is accompanied by a surprised look on his face as if, "Did I do that?" and then the obligatory "...k?" (Kai speak for, "Are you okay?")

He is the spittin' image of Jay and has his Daddy's hands:  meaty, thick, capable, caring and strong.

His favorite person on the green earth is "Oh-wee" (Owen).  Coming in at a strong second, possibly even a tie, is his Daddy. If Jay so much as sniffles or sneezes, Kai comes out of the woodwork and says, "Daddy....k?" and gives him a rare gentle pat.

His two favorite possessions are his thumb and his "bankee;" which we use like a sheet over a bird's cage to calm him and soothe him when it is time for bed.  Generally, it works like a charm.

Kai isn't a "wait and see" kind of guy.  He is an "I'm going to make it happen at all costs" kind of guy.  The kind of person you would want on your side if you were stranded on a desert island.  But NOT the kind of person you would want on your side if you wanted to go watch a chess tournament or take a  leisurely stroll through a museum of rare artwork.  For that matter, he isn't the kind of guy you want on your lap at church, either. 


If I can only learn to try and see the world through Kai's eyes I might see a world full of endless possibilities instead of insurmountable challenges.  I would understand the full meaning behind "carpe diem" instead of wondering "what exactly did I accomplish today?"  And I might also learn that wearing your food on your face is better than wearing extra calories on your thighs!


Whatever it is that Kai is supposed to teach me, I'm grateful for it.  And I'm trying to be a willing student.  I'm grateful that he has been entrusted to my care and I can only hope and pray that I don't dampen his enthusiasm for life or damage his drive to explore and understand the world.  

Kung Fu Grandma

My Mom was here for a 2 day visit, which means......I got a pedicure (so I could break out my sassy peep-toe shoes without shame), adult conversation, a long overdue date with Jay (museums in DC and Thai food for dinner), treated to lunch at Chick-Fil-A, and some validation, relaxation, commiseration and commendation.  

What did Grandma get?  A whole lot of wrangling, wrestling, diapering and snack dispensing.  She got her bag pillaged as well as an accelerated lesson in "How To Open All The Kai Proofed Bathroom Doors Quick Enough So You Don't Wet Your Pants."  It takes dexterity, mental acuity and the patience of Mother Teresa to open these doors.  I'm considering passing out Depends to all my guests as a precaution.  Luckily, Grandma is still the sharpest knife in the drawer and was in no need of assistance.  (Owen has mastered it and Drew asks Owen to open the doors for him.  It all works itself out somehow.  If the door can't be opened quick enough they just go out and relieve themselves in the bushes.  One of many reasons it is nice to have all boys AND large shrubbery.)  

My mom willingly and knowingly accepts all manner of abuses when she visits our house.  There is no pretense of me trying to make her "stay more comfortable" with Martha Stewart-like accommodations.  She finds no fancy meals or sparkling clean floors or a relaxing retreat.  I provide her with clean sheets and towels and she brings her ear plugs and an extra parcel of patience.

She also brings little toys for the boys.  Curiously, she has a sixth sense as to what kinds of things the boys will like that will stimulate their intellect keep them occupied.  This trip it was Boggle and some drawing books.  They worked like a charm.

Things were going along nicely.  She didn't let Kai take a leisurely swim in the koi pond like last time.  And when we were in the city, Kai only got one headlight on his forehead after an altercation with an open door.  So all in all her Grandma time was a success for all parties..... until Kai and Owen decided to start jumping from the end table onto the couch and then dumping the end table over.  Thankfully there were no injures because Grandma rushed to the scene and said,

"If you boys don't stop that I'm going to have to get after you!!!"

She left them alone to ponder their behavior, confident that she was the victorious adult.  However, Owen translated the reprimand differently.  Apparently Grandma's reputation as a black belt in taekwondo (true story) precedes her.  Owen explained to his brother....

"Did you hear that, Kai?  Grandma said she's going to beat us up!"

Now I know her secret.  And it isn't the toys! 

 

 

Sleep Habits

A few nights ago....about 4.3 seconds after turning on the TV to watch compulsory ice dancing at the Olympics, Jay was out cold on the couch.  (But not before he could complain, "A twizzle!  What kind of sport has a twizzle in it?)  Apparently watching men and women dance around on the ice to the EXACT same music with the EXACT same choreography was not exciting enough for him.
  
Surprising.
  
In all honesty, I tried my hardest to be interested but my book about the witches of Salem in the 1600's was far more intriguing than the people of the 21st century dancing the "romantic tango" with knives strapped to their boots.  Twizzle or no twizzle.  And because I couldn't summon a marching band to wake up Jay and I couldn't haul him up to our room on my back, I left him snoozing away on the couch with visions of ice dancing cowgirls in his head.
  
As I walked past Kai's door I heard the telltale signs of a chest cold.  Since I had a big giant bed to myself I decided to put him in bed with me so I could listen to his breathing.  To monitor his developing cough.  That was my excuse.  What I really wanted was to spend time with him when he wasn't going mach 10 from one disaster to the next. And since that only happens when he is asleep, I seized the opportunity.  I wanted some quiet time alone with my "baby" who isn't a baby anymore but a toddler.  A full-fledged little boy.  That night I wanted to stop time and spend some peaceful moments alone with the boy who will always be my baby.

I snuggled him in and felt immense happiness just being close to him.  Until...

He proceeded to thrash about like a fish out of water.  He was twisting and turning and picking his legs up and slamming them down and doing his own version of the twizzle. I endured the beating for about as long as Jay endured ice dancing, and I returned my little whirling dervish to his own bed, my lofty idea of a tranquil cuddle chopped to bits with each swing of Kai's stubby arm.

It reminded me of other nights I thought it would be a good idea to have some peaceful moments with my sleeping boys.  While on our camping trip last summer, with the serenity of the Great Smokey Mountains surrounding us, I attempted to sleep between Chuck Norris and Kung Fu Panda in a little 2 man tent.  With Owen on one side and Drew on the other, I spent a pain filled night being karate chopped, speared, kicked, scratched and rolled over in the tent of terror.
  
Which brings me to these photos of our camping trip in North Carolina last summer. That is Chuck Norris on the right who enjoys the noise of electronics more than the chirping crickets.  Kung Fu Panda, below, who looks like he is about to snort his s'more right into his giant nostrils!  And that is Kai before he became Houdini and could escape from anything and pick any lock on the green earth.  Being quarantined in that pack and play was the ultimate of insults and the wailing cut through the quiet of nature like a knife.  Our neighboring campers loved us!  Oh, those were the days....

Melting Down

I've lost all creative energies.  Somewhere in the depths of this winter, perhaps buried under the snow, I've misplaced my creative juices.  It feels impossible to write anything or take pictures of anything that seem in the least bit interesting, beautiful, poignant or fun.  I've got a backlog of blog posts that I just can't bring myself to push the "publish" button because they don't feel right to me.  

I've narrowed the problem down to the need/want dilemma.
 
I often talk to the boys about the difference between needing and wanting.  When they whine, "But I neeeeeed a piece of candy."  I respond with a line straight out of the things-you-swore-you'd-never-say-but-can't-stop-from-saying-now-that-you-are-the-mom book.
  
"You need a piece of candy just about as much as you need a cavity.  You should say I want a piece of candy."  (This is followed by the same blank stare that I'm sure I gave my Mom.)


But now I find myself in the same need/want predicament as my boys.  I whine about needing a vacation with just Jay.  I also need to go skiing. I need a bigger dining room table. I also need to watch what I eat and lose a few pounds.  I need to exercise more.  I need, need, NEED........

So I'll do as the hymn says and "gird up my loins, fresh courage take" and march myself right into March....the last vestiges of winter.  I have what I need...my hooligans, my husband, a warm house, food and my health (physical, maybe not mental!).  I'll publish those blog posts because they are what they are, an accurate and perhaps mundane recording of our life.
  
But still, I neeeeeeed a vacation!!!!!!

Bathroom Humor

The situation in the Spencer boys' bathroom has reached critical mass!  I've written before about the little boy pee that somehow, mysteriously, magically is not in the porcelain receptacle that it should be quarantined in.  I've awakened in recent nights to the sound of a child staggering like a drunken sailor to the hall bathroom to use the facilities. (I might add here that my boys have NEVER wet their beds.  A miracle that has not gone unnoticed by their Mama who is NOT prone to being a ray of sunshine in the morning.)  When I should be hearing the distinctive sound of potty hitting the water in the toilet, I hear nothing.  Nada.  Which can only mean one thing.....the toilet opening is woefully inadequate for my children and should be enlarged to the size of, oh, a SWIMMING POOL to ensure that their pee actually makes it into its intended target!

To combat the germs that must surely be having a frat party in that petri dish we call the boys' bathroom, I've placed Clorox Clean Up wipes in the bathroom for the boys to use when their aim is off or they get distracted or if they just get a hankering to make the bathroom shine like the top of the Chrysler Building.  And I must say, things are better.  The boys have gotten into the spirit of keeping their space "fresh and clean."  Miracles DO happen.

Now that the potty issues are relatively in control (until Kai starts to potty train, have mercy) I've focused my rage at the copious amounts of Sponge Bob Square Pants electric blue toothpaste that is decorating the sink, counter top and wall.  I marched Owen into the bathroom yesterday and demanded that he scrub and scrub like Cinderella (a comparison he didn't quite understand given the fact that he is a boy with no sisters and doesn't have a clue what a Disney princess is) until no traces of toothpaste remained.


I left him in the bathroom, confident that he would be there until next week because toothpaste has a way of turning to mortar if left for more than a few minutes.  As I walked past the bathroom I heard heavy breathing and some muttering.  Alarmed, I listened closer and heard something that reminded me how lucky I am to be the mother of these three crazy boys.

With a voice as menacing as he could muster, while scrubbing vigorously, I heard him saying....

"Alright tough guy....

I've got you."

Owen was reading the riot act to those crusted on blobs of toothpaste!  He was whooping some blue toothpaste booty, not taking any prisoners and giving it the what-for!  

Sure enough, the bathroom was sparkling clean when he walked out of there with a satisfied grin.  Mission accomplished, a child's imagination in tact and a Mama taking the time to have a much needed laugh while savoring the sayings of a precocious 4 year old.  It makes those minty blue blobs almost worth it.  Almost.

School is Canceled Along With My Sanity

Prince William County Public School System has canceled another day of school as a result of the Snowpocalypse of 2010.  This makes almost two weeks with no school. 

Apparently some dude in a suit rocked back in his administrative chair, smoking a cigar and decided that because it smelled like snow, or it was too white outside, or I don't know what, he figured that instead of instructing our children and giving us parents back our sanity, it was better that our children remain at home until all 30 inches of snow has melted from our lives or we've been carted from our homes to the looney bin, grateful for the chance at some quiet in our padded room.......whichever comes first.

Can he possibly fathom what is happening to my impressionable young student?  Drew's brain must be turning to mush.  Brain cells just dropping like flies with every episode of Sponge Bob.  I'm certain of it.  Why else would we be having conversations like this?

"Mom, can you please open the bathroom for me?"  

(Only those older than 30 are able to open our Kai-proofed doors.  We've removed the door knobs altogether.)

"Sure, Drew.  Give me just a few moments."

"How much is a few?"

"About 2-3."

"How long is a moment?"

"About 2 minutes."

"So you'll be here in about 4-5 minutes?"

"Yes."

"How many seconds is that?"

"About 240."
"So you'll be here in exactly 240 seconds?"
"Yep."

"That is too long!" 

I could just feel the life force being sucked out of me with each new question. 

Luckily I had enough life left in me to open the bathroom door within the 240 second time frame.  But I just couldn't resist the golden opportunity of saying to Drew, "Don't forget to wash your hands for exactly 500 seconds after you go to the bathroom."

A few minutes later I heard the sound of running water and 24....25....26.....27.......

I love him.  I really, really love him.

Snow Days, Snow Days These Are....

Wednesday  02.03.10

Another school day canceled and book club luncheon (and gab fest) postponed.

Snow ice cream devoured by boys and neighbors. Tasting very sweet with a hint of something else....don't worry, it wasn't yellow snow.  It just had a unique "organic" taste in the background.

A fire, warm and crackling, to thaw out chilled toes and fingers.


Popcorn picnics in their jammies watching "Ice Age:  Dawn of the Dinosaurs."

Nachos for lunch with a side of hot chocolate topped with canned whipped cream (or a "squirt" as Owen calls it).

Dinner by candlelight (because candles have a calming affect on my boys and by that time I needed some calm).

A flyover by an Uncle piloting a Huey from Andrew's Air Force Base, circling our house like we were fugitives (those under 5 feet qualify, in my opinion)....my boys have TWO helicopter pilot Uncles.  They feel like the coolest kids around.  And they are. 

Friday  02.05.10

Then the BIG ONE hit.  The "snowpocalypse" as it has been called.  Over 2 feet of snow dumped on us in the space of 30 hours.  We (but mostly Jay) shoveled our 200+ foot driveway 8 times.  He certainly gets my vote for the strongest most hard working man around. Hefting around snow and kids is a lot of work!

A Tooth Fairy Intervention

It isn't a secret that my introduction into the world of tooth fairydom has been rocky.  It hasn't helped that the tooth wizard (Jay refuses to have the word "fairy" in any way attached to himself) is also a novice.  And between the two of us we've thoroughly besmirched the good name of the tooth fairy/wizard.  So, apparently we were in need of an intervention.

Drew's second front tooth had been hanging by a thread (or a root...is it a root?...gross) for weeks.  Any time he jumped up and down or let out a hearty guffaw that tooth would wiggle around inside his mouth like a pendulum on a clock. I was just waiting for it to fall out or get stuck in another hot dog and Jay was ignoring the whole thing altogether because "he just doesn't do teeth."  (Except his own, which he brushes quite regularly.)

Just when it seemed like Drew's tooth was going to be around for his junior prom, Auntie came out for a visit and swooped in to save Drew's rather raggedy smile.  If ever there was a person that knows teeth, it is my sister.  She is somewhat of an expert, I would say. Carly takes her teeth quite seriously and knows what it is like to have a snaggle-toothed grin. Recently, while at a fancy out-of-town wedding, she had a run-in with a lettuce wrap wherein she lost a veneer and was left with a vampire fang that would make "Twilight" fans shudder with envy.  (And while I'm on the subject, lets talk about how our brothers relentlessly tease her about being a "potty mouth" because her beautiful smile has a few porcelain veneers.)

Being kindred spirits, Auntie and Drew set out to get that tooth under the pillow instead of sticking out of his mouth, parallel to the ground.  And what better way than the old-fashioned doorknob and string trick?

Auntie and Drew closed their eyes, crossed their fingers, slammed the door and the tooth shot out of his mouth attached to my mint dental floss.  Huzzah!

But the intervention could not be considered a success until the tooth was safely under the pillow ready for the exchange.  And...............

I had no cash.

Just as I was starting to tell Drew, "The tooth fairy won't come when a tooth is pulled out past 8:00 because she has already started her route," (oh, man I'm getting really good with tooth fairy excuses) Carly interrupted and said that "we should try it anyway" (with a wink, wink).

So my sister donates two dollars to the tooth fairy intervention and calls it good.  Crisis averted, innocent child still remains duped about people flying around and magically giving him things while he sleeps, and I'm off the hook.

Until the next morning....

I realize that Drew left his tooth under the pillow in the top bunk of Owen's room because he thought we would move him there after he fell asleep and Auntie went to sleep in his bed.  But Auntie decided to sleep on the couch, and Drew is sleeping in his room without the tooth, and now I have to explain how the tooth fairy knew to go to another pillow to retrieve the tooth and leave the cash under the pillow he actually slept on.

I'm not a tooth fairy.  I'm a tooth fibber.

Pizza, Plasma and a Plight

We had a lovely dinner tonight.  And I don't usually describe our dinners as lovely, more like feeding time at the zoo complete with flying food and gnashing teeth.  But tonight consisted of Jay walking through the door at 6:45 with 2 boxes of pizza to 4 ravenously hungry people drooling on the empty paper plates in front of us.  You see, I boycotted cooking dinner for numerous reasons.  And if Jay wasn't going to make it, Papa John's was!  And just to quiet the responsible, nutrition conscious parent inside of me that was slinging guilt mud balls at me for not having anything green or "full of fiber" within a 2 mile radius of our house....I threw in a container of yogurt for the boys to eat.  Guilt assuaged!

While we gobbled up pepperoni, Hawaiian, and cheese slices of heart-attacks-waiting-to-happen (that was the guilt slinger popping back up), we talked of the beach.  (It has been a hard, cold, gray January.)  I talked about how I would go to the very same beach for 2 whole weeks when I was a little girl.  We giggled about Auntie's childhood dreams of opening her own "Carly's Coquina Care" for the thousands of colorful little clams that burrowed in the sand. And about the posh little bed and breakfast for the sand fleas that she opened......in her underpants drawer!  The boys sat riveted when I explained the complicated biological process of why the sand fleas began to stink after their untimely demise....right there amongst her carefully folded days of the week underwear.  (Not my normal dinnertime conversation.  Mind you, these are little boys, there had to be something stinky or otherwise objectionable to hold their attention.)

With crusts tossed on plates, the empty, greasy boxes still in front of us, and not a grumpy face among us, we continued to dream of our vacation to the beach (which is only 141 days away).  I mentioned that it would be so amazing if we spent 2 weeks there instead of just one.  You know, so we could really unwind and make the effort of putting our clothes from the suitcase into the rattan dressers completely worth it! 

Continuing with the dream, I casually (and completely jokingly) said to Jay, "The only way we could afford an extra week would be to sell our plasma.  Do they pay extra for cute little boy plasma?" 

And, of course, Drew was listening and ready to ask questions about whatever word or concept he didn't understand.  (Being his mother often makes me wish I had paid closer attention in school.)  He asked, "What is plasma?" 

Realizing that my degree in musical theater was not going to help me in this particular situation, I referred Drew to his Daddy.  

Jay says, "It is the liquid stuff that your blood floats around in."  (I knew I married this man for a reason!)


Drew: "How do they get it out?"


Me thinking:  this is not the direction I intended this conversation to go.


Jay:  "They stick a big long needle in your arm and they draw it out."


Definitely not the direction I wanted it to go!

Complete silence.


Drew's face falls and he admits, "But I don't want to do that.  It will hurt me really bad."


My completely literal and believing little 6 year old was feeling shame for not wanting to do his part in our fantasy quest for one extra week of sun and sand!  In my moment of levity I had unwittingly heaped a burden upon Drew's boney little shoulders that he just didn't feel he could bear.  (And now, the guilt slinger was throwing 90 mph fast balls in my direction!)

I sat there carefully crafting my reply.  As I started to explain that I was only JOKING, that one week is a perfect length, and that I would never ask him to sell a piece of his DNA so we could frolic a little longer at the beach, Drew cut me off and very seriously proclaimed....

"Well, I think I could give plasma.  

I'm pretty brave.

I didn't cry when I got my shots.

I'm grown up now."

He was oh, so proud of himself for being willing to sacrifice.  And I was oh, so proud of him for wanting to take one for the team! 

I learned several valuable lessons:  1.) Teach Drew to recognize sarcasm and jokes  2.) Be careful what I say  3.) Study up on science 4.) We all need a vacation.  
These pictures from last June will have to do....for now.

 *Notice the sand on Owen's shoulder and the sand bandit making his getaway.

*Auntie toting around the hooligans on her barge.