Enter Creepiness of Battle Royale

So I went to the recycling bin this morning and this is what I saw when I dropped the box I was throwing in and thought, eh, I should pick that up and put it back in the bin. I should've been lazy and left it there. But, I thought to myself: "Self, you are the one who does the trash nine times out of ten, so you will be the one picking this box up either now or later, so do it now." I should've left it there.
What I was struck by was the amount of spider-webby things around this dude. This means that there was one hell of a battle between the spider and the scorpion. Go spider. My theory is that there was one ticked off spider last night because I went egg sac hunting under our BBQ last night and took out no less than six dime-sized egg sacs with the dog poop. Alas, mama spider, deprived of her potential babies, went on a murderous rampage. Does that make me an accessory to murder? What's that? Oh, I was the one poop scooping and spider-egg sac cleaning? Oh, think nothing of it. I'm a bad ass.

I was also thinking that it's close enough to Halloween to display our paltry amount of Halloween decorations. Look. Here it is. Bryon let me buy it at Disneyland because it works for Christmas too. Thus it gets to stay up for three months. Great, huh? Oh, we are so lame. Collin is totally fascinated that there's a flame in "cack slellinkintons mowf," or, for those of you who don't speak toddler, "Jack Skellington's mouth."

And for the grandparents, who can't live with a post without a picture of Collin; he learned to chain his barrel monkeys together on his own yesterday. I know, fascinating. Breathtaking. Amazing. Today, after hours of endlessly being the "first monkey" holder for him, I taught him to hang the first monkey from a drawer handle, thus alleviating my responsibility as a rack.

Weird Plague and Heatwave Broken

We've been sleeping on the living room floor for the past few days. Ahhh, thanks air conditioner. Mostly because it's been so hot during the day that the upstairs bakes like an oven and never cools down enough for my newly developed princess sensibilities. These have been acquired since the purchase of the air conditioner for the downstairs that makes it so comfy down there that I'd rather sleep on the floor in cool comfort than upstairs in my own bed. Air mattress, so much more comfy. The added benefit, Collin finds the air mattress endlessly fascinating in the morning before I squish it down back into the bag. It's cooled down again now, so phew.

But, the weird plaque that Collin brought home this week? The one that we thought we were done with? Oh, we're not. He and I both succumbed to it; but, it apparently just went into hibernation for twenty-four hours. Daddy, Mommy and Collin are all still sick. And worse. It's awful. Collin's coughing. Daddy and Mommy are pretty sure that we once used to breathe freely and I'm pretty sure that there was a time that I was able to move my body without constant ache or exhaustion. Bryon claims this too, but he's an old, lazy fart so I doubut it. Tee hee. Darn that germ collecting grubby-handed kiddo!

I know, I shall punish him by letting him watch another movie because we are all too sick to do any real child rearing. Since it's impossible to scare our child, as we've learned lately, we let him watch "The Neverending Story." Bryon claims he was scared of it as a child because Gmork, the wolf-thingie was freaky. My kid? Nope. Kid's got nerves of steel. He wanted snuggles but he thought it was cool. Exact response at the end. "I need watch it again...NOW!" Since any kid's first time with that piece of history is a memorable experience, I of course, documented it for posterity's sake. Can you tell that Bryon feels simply awesome?

P.S. Collin is pretty sure that Atreyu is a girl.

How to Get Collin to Take His Shirt Off

My child refuses to sleep without a shirt. This sounds like a simple statement. It isn't. The twenty seconds between the bathroom and the bedroom are starting to pose anxiety for him. He's beginning to freak about being shirtless in any scenario. Weird. If Bryon happens to check on him in the middle of the night, may the heavens open up and suck up into the clouds should he forget to put a t-shirt on first because Collin will panic upon seeing that Daddy too has nipples.

Well, the fever of a zillion degrees combined with the heat wave we're having prompted a necessity in my mind for the kid to not only sleep shirtless last night but, gasp pantsless as well, and brace yourselves folks, without the comforter! Ack! You'd have thought I was torturing my child from the wails he let out. It was awful. Bryon made me turn around for a minute because I got a little weepy at the sight of my child in so much sheer emotional agony.

So, I broke down. I offered him a bribe. I told him that he could have a cupcake for breakfast if he slept, like a good boy, without his shirt on all night. He toned it down to a whimper after that. A pitiful, sad little whimper. But, he woke up saying, "cupcake! cupcake!"

And yes, I had to take all the shirts out of his room because he's just that clever. Also, ever the smart-ass, he says to me, as I'm taking this picture of him this morning, "Mama, not too many pictures today." Schwack! Then, as a fly zoomed by his ear, "Frickin' Fly!" Oops, where'd he get that?

The Pity Factory

Collin is sick. I can count on one hand the number of times this kid has been sick in his lifetime, so he really plays it for all it's worth and it works. The concept of stuffy nose is so foreign to him, he freaks out when it happens and wakes up every twenty minutes in sheer panic, consequently we have to sleep on the floor next to his bed to remind him that yeah, it's okay to have a cold. Leave it to my independent kid to not actually need us to snuggle him, of course. "On the floor with you, ma and pa!"

Still, how pitiful is this? Teaching the art of nose blowing to a toddler is a feat in itself; especially when they aren't in need of doing it all that often. So, we are graced with the whopper sneeze every so often, complete with snot hosing down his face. It's a thing of beauty, I tell you. Poor baby. I think he's milking it for the endless t.v. time he's getting today. What do you think? I heard the words, "Mommy, I LOVE Tinkerbell. I do. I really do," today as we watched Peter Pan for the umpteenth time. Maybe it's the delirium of the zillion degree fever.

An Explanation for a New Disturbing Trend

Collin has an obsession with fairies. It's not in me to dissuade my son from what can perhaps be a beat-up worthy adoration of all things twinkly and sparkly. Okay, I exaggerate. He just likes fairies. What?! They are kinda cool, right? Magic, the ability to fly. Is anyone with me on this?

So, yeah, I let him meet Tinkerbell at Disneyland last week. I've gotten no end of grief about it. This is no less compounded by the fact that I stood in line for 35 minutes to do it and bought the picture. Should I scan the darn thing for you? Bryon says the Tink we met looks like a crack whore. It's also ridiculous that he was thrilled, THRILLED to meet her. He hugged her like she just got off the plane from a war zone. It was embarrassingly cute. Still, is it going too far that today at the library, I had to draw the line at TWO of our five books being about or featuring a fairy?

Anyhoo, I'm pretty sure it stems from his all out love for Peter Pan, which is cool with me since it's my all time favorite Disney movie and since the kid doesn't get t.v. time and he rarely gets movies, I'm digging that that's the one he glommed onto as his favorite. When he discovered that there were fairies in Fantasia as well, he was hooked. "They are sooooo beee-aw-ful mama!" Alas, a sneak peak at our crazily expensive Halloween costume. He was so excited to put it on and see that he was, in fact, Peter, that he refused to take it off. Bryon's just happy that the Disney version of the costume, despite it's excessive price tag, did not require the purchase, or wear of tights.

He was also pretty upset to give up the pretend sword because once he figured out the button that makes "real" swashbuckling noises, WAHOO! But, thanks Disney for making it out of "safe" foam that won't last much more than Halloween night. Yep, sorry kid. You can't play with it until then :( I'm mean, I know. And even then, any bets on how long he gets to keep it before I have to take it away for his "stabbing" someone with it?

This, however, I cannot explain.

He's done it since he was a baby; passing toys from my mouth to his and vice verse. It's weird; especially when it's a pretend hot dog. It's also mildly disturbing when it's a toy hot dog.

My What a Big Head You Have!

You know those little beanies that they give you at the hospital, sending your kid home in androgynous ambiguity? Surely you saved yours if you have kids. Collin's currently sits atop Bryon's computer speaker because apparently, he thinks he owns sentimental rights to that bit of our son's history. In reality, I'm loaning it to him. I love that hat. That little head came through my body, in an indelicate place, and I like to remember how small it was; not, that it felt that way at the time.

Anyway, Collin discovered it today and he thought he should prance about in it. Maybe if I didn't use words like "prance," to describe my son, he wouldn't have been so excited to meet Tinkerbell at Disneyland yesterday? But, I digress. What self-respecting mother wouldn't have taken 24, yes 24 pictures of him wearing that darn thing?

Does anyone else think that he looks a little bit like he's ready to take up a new religion? Since we have no religion in this house, maybe he's crying out for one.

Obligatory

It's just simple obligation to my son, his monkey shirt and my Air Force that this be posted. Enough said.

Oh, and P.S. despite that shirt being only slightly big, it's a freaking 5T! Good Lord!

Evil Disneyland-Hating Penelope

Of course she'd be back. I knew she would. She comes by about once a month. No, I don't mean Granny! I mean Penelope! I should've guessed it would be when Granny and Granddad came for a visit to take the little lad to Disneyland.

Did it seem to phase my son one teeny little bit? No. (Yep, you knew that shot would have to be here Granny. We love you).

Did he seem to mind that I was incapacitated in bed for the duration of their visit? No.

Did he even care that I didn't go to Disneyland with them. No.

Did he cry every stinking morning that he didn't want me anymore, that he only wanted Granny for three days after they left? Yes. In fact, his exact words may have been, "Need to live at Granny's house now! Don't want you anymore, Mommy!" Love, true love.

Ahhh, the love of a child. Why do we do this job again? Oh yes, unconditional love. I remember.

In other news, Collin got library books this week. This one is entitled, "My Two Grannies." How apropos. Oh, and I'm strongly considering taking him on a Mommy-and-Collin Disneyland trip tomorrow :)

How Collin Embarrasses Himself Without My Help

Got out of the shower today to discover that he put my discarded PJ's to good use: practicing dressing himself. Pay no mind to the facts that he was already dressed, that underpants go beneath clothing and should be gender-specific and clean, or that he is wearing gigantic clothing. No, instead pay attention to the fact that he is dressing himself, something I cannot for the life of me get him to do under normal circumstances.

Upon finding it eerily quiet in the playroom while I stirred pasta sauce that refused to defrost after sixteen hours on the stove, (okay ten minutes), I checked on my kid. This is what I found: the fact that his fingers have finally achieved the dexterity required to peel stickers off the sheet all by himself. This is an important skill for him. He was very proud. Oh yeah, it was hot that day, in case you hadn't guessed it from the pants-free zone.

Collin wants to bet you that he can put his feet in his mouth. He's pretty sure that you don't believe he can. He's also pretty sure that a french fry, specifically the one in his mouth, tastes distinctly better than his freaky-weird toenail feet. He has impeccable table manners, no? And his Mommy's good teeth. Okay, so this last picture isn't him being embarrassing, weird or gross, it's just him being cute. Isn't my boy cute? I think so. Look how excited he is to play with play-doh. I'd have been that excited to play with it when I was a kid too. We didn't have play-doh at our house and I still get a kick out of it when we play with the squishy stuff at my grown up house. It's fun! Maybe my glee rubs off on him.

Bad Day/Good Day/297 Pictures to Prove it

Nope, I won't put up 297 pictures. Why? Not because I don't think there's no one out there who wouldn't be interested in all 297 distinctly different expressions that my adorable son makes; but because I'm too lazy to upload that many. I should note that Daddy also takes a lot of these pictures. I'm not the only crazy one.

I should start by saying that we had a horrible time at our first baseball game. Silly us thought that Collin would love going to a baseball game as much as his parents. Oh how we were wrong. He was totally adorable though.

But, we got to our seats and he thought, hey this is a great place to be the most obnoxious kid on the planet because I'm really, really, really bored. No amount of explanation of the game, how excited he SHOULD be or amount of food stuffs could ply him into sitting or even standing in his designated spot. And boy did we try. This is baseball for crying out loud!!! Baseball!!! He ended up ingesting an entire hot dog, a goodly portion of Mommy's pretzel and some ice cream.

This got us nearly four innings. The people next to us probably wish we would've left before the first of the eighty-seven ceremonial "first" pitches. Don't get me started on how many "firsts" of something you can have. I mean honestly.

But, all was recovered the next day when we went back to Disneyland. Coincidentally, we parked directly behind our friends, the Roaches. Seriously, what are the odds of pulling in next to someone you know? So we got to spend the day with friends. It made for a fun day. Don't tell Gracie that we caught Collin putting the moves on another cute blonde. He tried to hold Paige's hand. He was a little stunned to be caught, can you tell? Paige has the whole, "I'm ignoring you and playing hard to get" thing down, doesn't she? My boy is a playa.

How do boys bond AND annoy other people around them in line? ROAR at the top of their lungs for a good five minutes straight. Oh, and get right up in one another's face to do it. I think the hands on the sides of the head thing, which they both seemed to spontaneously know to do might be some sort of mane.

For a change, he wasn't alone with his mama on the teacups. I think he was pretty pleased about this. Nope, still no room for the vomit-maker which we call Daddy.

Three kids, all day at Disney land...how long does it take to get a picture where they are all looking at the camera and making a semi-reasonable face? Yep, it's dark; so all day. Oh, and know where we are? The parking garage, on the way back to the car. My favorite, and this is not personal bias, is Collin's, "I'm drunk on Mickey face."

White Trashin' it Up

You may wonder why I haven't been dutifully updating you all on the minutae of our lives. Come on, I know you are wondering. Well, it's because we've been busy sitting perfectly still as to not burst into flames. In other words, it's been hot. Mostly, I've been busy being uncomfortable and Collin equally so; thus we've been equally whiny and irritable with one another and we've been busily annoying one another throughout the day and this leaves little time for typing or taking cute pictures. Should I have photo-documented any moments, it might've put me on the child protective services watch list. Kidding. Still, I'm glad they weren't around to catch me with him at CSU the other day when I got lost with him for over three hours in the blazing heat and he was sobbing, "need go home, need find my car, need to eat, need my water, help me!" I looked like a stellar parent at that point. Poor kid. Poor me.

But, I got Bryon talked into a frivolous purchase of a portable a/c unit this week. It is totally frivolous because we only get spots of heat waves around here that last for a few weeks here and there. So, it's use is pretty sporadic. I don't care anymore. If it had cost three billion dollars, I was willing to pay it. I also don't care that this is what it looks like. Pretty, huh? Currently, it's in our bedroom because I was selfish last night. It will reside in the living room this afternoon. Nothing says class like this puppy.

To complete our indoctrination into the white trash world, our kid is becoming a whino. I should've guessed he'd like Daddy's home brew, really. A couple months back, he was begging, pleading even to try Daddy's mead and I said, sure let him have a sip; he'll gag on it and never ask for our drinks again. Did he? No, he loved it. Backfire. Bryon's beer was ready last night and Collin wanted to try a sip. No, I don't give my kid beer on a regular basis. Or ever for that matter! But he begged and pleaded again. Who would think a two-year-old would love a beer so bitter that I couldn't even stand the tiniest of sips? He's his father's son; that's for sure.

At least he knew when to quit. I like this shot that says, "No thanks man, I've had enough."

By the way, you'll notice that in this heat, I can get him to go without pants but not without a shirt. He insists that a shirt is a fundamental garment at all times. He refuses to even sleep shirtless. He won't even let Bryon walk around without a shirt. Ever. Period. He gets very, very upset. I guess I should be grateful I don't have one of those stripper kids who takes their clothes off at will, but it's pretty weird that he freaks if his shirt is off, right?