Not Real Problems

1. My boot collection doesn't fit in a "Large" box. Do you know what that means? I need more boots so that it will adequately fit in two large boxes and not be all jiggly in there. I think that makes sense, right? Anyone with me? Anyone? I can't have just one solitary pair of boots in a large box all by itself! No one better say anything about using an additional small box. NO ONE! I didn't buy that explanation from Bryon and I won't buy it from you, either!

2. My son discovered that we packed the china last night and was alarmed that it was missing. How cute is that? He actually was sad that it was gone. My son loves his Mommy's china. I call this adorable, potentially alarming trend towards girlish behavior, not a problem.

3. My house looks a lot like this right now. (Oh and that guy? His name is Paco. I hired him to help with the move. He shows up at 8 or so every night and we pack...wait that sounded dirty). It's not stressing me out because yesterday, strange children were traipsing through my yard to "aggravate" the monkey beast children on the trampoline. Seriously. There were random children in MY yard, yelling to the other children who were screaming on the trampoline. I was told that it was a game and that I shouldn't be worried about it. I thought, hey, why is there even a fence and gate on my yard if anyone can just come in and use my yard, right? So, I will just count my boxes, not worry about the mess and think, a few more days, a few more days, a few more days. Aaaahhh, zen. A few more days more and we are away from beasts.

Mother of the Year Submittal

Just getting this in for the board:

I forgot my child today. Seriously. I totally spaced. I was working on my paper, la-tee-da. I thought nothing of the fact that I forgot to eat lunch. Think of it as a diet plan for those who are having trouble keeping 105 pounds on (go ahead and come kick my ass, I don't lock my doors).

Still, all of the sudden, it was 2:45 and the only reason I got up was because I'd also forgotten to pee. All day. Not kidding. All day. Started working at 10 am. Bladder painfully full at 2:45 after a Coke and a liter of water. It wasn't taking any prisoners on the way to the bathroom when I realized the time and said the following:

"F*@#&#, I forgot my son! I'm a terrible F#*%#ng mother!" Then, I briefly considered skipping the trip to the bathroom and just getting in the car to save three minutes. My body had other plans.

Alas, only ten minutes late to preschool. In my eyes that's five minutes early for avoiding a late pickup fee. So, phew.

The best part? I was informed that an hour ago, approximately time that my almost orphaned child would've gotten up from his sweaty-be-blanket-headed nap, he had a fever of, wait for it, wait, wait, wait: 98,4. Yes folks, 98.4. Should I take him to the hospital? Or, am I being a terrible mother by not worrying? I've already displayed my negligence today, so maybe I'm not taking this seriously enough?

The Decision to Feel Vindicated

I've had precisely three hours to process the fact that someone I've known for seventeen minutes has offered me the chance to use sharp instruments to slice into my child's adorable flesh whilst (I re-read Wuthering Heights this weekend, can you tell?) someone else has used powerful drugs to put him into a sleep that he could potentially never wake up from. Oh, and when they are done with that, they are going to hand me a groggy child that is in pain and say, "success," and I get to care for his grumpy butt for the next few days. I'm not dealing too well with this idea. So, instead, I'm deciding to feel vindicated.

See, I knew all along that something wasn't right. It isn't normal for a perfectly healthy kid who never so much as got the sniffles when everyone else did to suddenly come down with a cough that never went away. I knew it! Darn it! I knew-hew-hew it! There! Take that all you nay sayers that under your breath at least once, went, "Jeesh, what's with this mommy? Kids get coughs--yours is no different. He's fine!" Well, he wasn't all along. So there! I doubted a handful of times whether he was sick but at night when I'd see his sweaty little exhausted head so tired from trying to cough out whatever he couldn't get out, I knew in my heart something wasn't right. A mother knows.

Anyway, he needs surgery and thankfully, doesn't appear to have asthma. I'm almost wishing it was the opposite. More like neither, but it's got to be something for him to be better. The explanation is that somewhere along the line, he picked up a "silent" virus that settled behind his ears, in the Eustachian tubes and basically filled them to the brim with fluid.

Apparently, it didn't hurt him because he never complained. But, the pressure from that and the location makes him want to clear his throat a lot, which is why he is always coughing, especially at night. The constant coughing has aggravated his ENTIRE airway, down to the base of his lungs. Domino effect anyone? If you cough, nonstop for six months, your airway will look like crap, as his does. Throw in a little acid reflux, all caused by the coughing and you have a perfect storm of feeling like crap.

So, more medicine. Yes, more. Not different, more. He still needs to keep his airways open and the inflammation down and he needs antibiotics to prepare his body for surgery and to try to cure whatever infection was there. He needs something to help prevent him from any vomiting that might occur, although infrequent these days. And he needs an additional airway opener apparently.

What do I know? I didn't even know he had fluid. I wish I did! Maybe that's why he's always saying, "What did you say?" I guess he wasn't just trying to irritate me. Maybe his whole world sounds like we are talking through soup cans on a string. Poor baby!

So, the surgery will remove all the fluid from his Eustachian tubes and the adenoids that are too large for his little body that are adding undue pressure to the area. Oh, and since his tonsils are apparently gigundous (he can thank his ever-loving Mommy for that one), they are taking those too. Grandparents, remember the Mama-tonsillectomy right after Collin was born? We'll be saving Collin one of those nightmares by taking his now, I guess.

I'm just glad that when this is over, hopefully it will be better instead of throwing more and more bandaids at the symptoms instead of at the problem. Please be thinking of our baby and our family in the next few weeks. We are scared. Mommy is beside herself. Collin has no clue, of course! When we have our surgery date, we'll keep you posted. The scheduler is calling us back when she gets back from, "lunch." It's 2:30 here. It'll be in 4-6 weeks.

Grandparents, Start your Shutterfly!

So, we had a photography session on Torrance Beach with an awesome photographer named, Adam. Since our son is perhaps, the most adorable kid on the planet, and we were being photographed with the backdrop of the beautiful Pacific Ocean, we knew we'd be hard pressed to walk out of his Redondo Beach studio without ponying up the big bucks.


Yeah, we spent the money for the package that gave us the high-res CD and thus allowing us to just go ahead and print what we wanted ourselves.


So, grandparents this time only, we aren't sending you gobs of prints like we usually do. Please forgive us. I'm sorry. But, when you see this photos, and the smathering sample that is here, you will soon understand. It was worth the money we shelled out to Adam. And it will be worth the click over to Shutterfly for you. I promise! (as soon as the gazillion of them are uploaded, I will put an active hyperlink on the blog for you, in addition to the e-mail that I think automatically generates).

You will soon be ooohing and aaaaahing over the gads of prints to choose from of your precious little grandson and his equally precious parents (did I just say that?).

And you can pick whatever you want. I have already hounded my dear husband all afternoon to get them uploaded and they will be there before he goes to work on Monday. Promise! Otherwise, you and I both know that you'll NEVER see them!

Anyway, can you believe the adorableness of this child? I can't sometimes and I'm his mother.

News of the Last Two Days and More Forthcoming

Since we are deliriously busy lately, I'll condense. No pictures today but I promise you will be surprisingly happy with the pictures you get later. You'll see :) I hope? Now, I'm nervous.

1. Yesterday, two Hispanic men came to my house and I got excited and it made me late.
(The Ethan Allen delivery men came and brought my my china cabinet! They were late, thus I was late for my next appointed engagement as I refused to leave the house until I saw it come through the door, despite my husband being home to welcome it. Yes, I said, "welcome" it.)

2. I spent part of my morning yesterday picking over a dead stranger's things and then giving another stranger $50 for said stranger's awesome antique bookcase that we don't need but that I coveted. (When I see estate sale signs on the ritzy neighborhoods around here, I can't help but go in and I'm starting to not feel creeped out by them anymore. People die. When rich people die, they have good stuff. In my dreams, it's Spode and Waterford. It doesn't make me a bad person, it makes me a bargain hunter. It's like a garage sale in Tim Burton's universe. I like Tim Burton and I like garage sales. What's the problem?)

3. I spent a bit of my afternoon playing with my gorgeous new friend who prefers to be called T-Bone and who spent much of our time trying to eat a fence. (I had my first horseback "riding" lesson which was all a ground lesson because I've never been on a horse before. But, learning to groom, saddle and bridle a horse was more fun that I've had in as long as I can remember and I can't wait to go back and ride. By the way, has anyone ever realized just how HUGE a horse is until you've actually had to do that stuff? Seriously! They are not messing around. That thing could kill you. Oh, and add that to the list of stuff, I "do.")

4. I did the "all nighter" with panache last night trying to study. Bryon found me with my face in my book snoring by 11 pm. Apparently, there is a reason that college kids are kids. Every time I feel like I could keep up with the kids in my classes, I'm reminded in a big way that I'm an old foggie. Little Miss, "I graduated High School in 20008 could kick my ass." 2008!

5. I am the only member of my family awake because of said all nighter. Back to the books! We have a picture appointment with the photographer that took our beach pictures last week to review and purchase. We get a free 8x10. Supposedly, we should walk away with just that. Right. This is the kind of gorgeous pictures he takes. These aren't strangers. These are the Roaches and they have photo model children. If our pictures look half as good as theirs, we are in trouble. I'm considering calling MasterCard and telling them we have a spending liming of twelve dollars.

Another Typical Day of Oddity at the McClain's

I'm not sure who is being abused here. It looks pretty awful for both parties, doesn't it? Certainly though, for anyone who's ever been to my house, or within forty feet of my dog, then you have fallen victim to this type of attention and know that 50% of this party of two is enjoying this immensely and that the awkwardness is really only falling to one party of this duo. You would also understand why Bryon and I only have one child, as intimacy understandably a problem for a couple who is constantly having to brush their teeth to be close to one another. Bryon, I love you babe, but your breath is bad enough without it being compromised by something that licks it's own butt.

Is it also wrong that 45/46ths (isn't it fun to use random fractions?) of our day is spent tickling our child's tickle 'pots (that's "spots" for those of you who use the letter "s")? You see, Collin is absurdly ticklish in all the usual places and he thinks that while he sleeps, the tickle fairy potentially comes into his room and rearranges or steals his tickle 'pots. Where, oh where could he get such an idea? It couldn't be from his mother who enjoys the sound of his laughter so much that she invented such a wonderful fairy. So, it's our job as parents to test out whether they are still working properly at random intervals throughout the day. Alas, if he doesn't laugh hard enough, the tickle 'pots need "repair," and retesting immediately.

Oh, and why yes, my kid's shirt is on backwards and inside out. Want to make something of it?

At least he put it back on after he went poop. That's right, I said, after he went poop. Does anyone else's child poop in the buff? It's a new thing for him. New as in, this week. He's suddenly got a naked poop fetish. He's pretty convinced that if he doesn't take all of his clothes off, they will instantly become soiled. I'm kind of letting the whole thing go and hoping this too shall pass, but it's decidedly weird.

I Reserve the Right...

To complain about the following, even though I got myself into it:

-13 page, cited, researched and written by anal-retentive, over-achieving grad student, term paper is due in two weeks. Have I mentioned that I haven't started it yet and failed to consider that I would be moving at the same time as trying to complete this? Why, oh why didn't I think of that possibility? Oh, I know! Because no one thinks of a stupid thing like that.

-optometry, orthopedic surgery, pulmonolgoy, speech therapy, dermatology and dentist appointments to reschedule because we just don't have the time to get to them. Wait, scratch that. We CAN get to the pulmonolgist because darn it, we need that one and the waiting list was already eight weeks.

-"leisure activities" that are going undone: like horseback riding, book club meetings where I have nothing to say because I've only read half the book for once (shoot me for being in two book clubs when I'm trying to do a master's), and a spouse's club president who is mean to me
because I don't do a super job at my post (oh wait, that's because I don't care about it. Hear that mean lady? The spouse's club is NOT my first priority!)

-the base garage sale pile o'crap that I've accumulated and I've got all ready to sell next month but I'm already stressed out about because the people that show up to this event are vultures and try to talk you down no matter how cheaply you price stuff. "No lady, I will NOT sell you a play structure for $1! And no, I will not throw in our kitchen table for an extra 50 cents!"

-painting our entire house in two days. There, I've said it. Phew. I'm pretending that it will be a piece of cake and that my arms won't fall off from exhaustion and that my kid won't spill an entire can of paint or that the tape job I do at 3 am won't be horrible and leaky but all of those things will happen and somewhere at about day 1 and a half, I will break down in tears and a migraine from hell will happen and I will either be in the hospital asking for morphine and shaking (which sounds like a joke but isn't...it happens) or I will be seeing spots that I'm not sure if I painted or are part of my headache or I will wrap Collin up in the drop cloth and put him in the trunk.

-loading a house full of furniture on our own. I'm spoiled by Air Force movers. Despite their amazing ability to break stuff, pack your actual garbage and use an entire box to pack a paperclip, I will miss them next week.

-I fear that whatever neighbors we have on our new street will be worse than the old ones and I reserve the right to hate them in the future. I am just going to go ahead and state that for the record. Got that record?

The Decision and Elusive Things

I finally did it. I called our property management company and acted like "that lady." You know the one, the one that calls and complains about stupid stuff and sounds like a whiny bitch? I've never before, in my life, called and complained to a housing office, property management office or the like about anything. This week, I made it my mission to see that trampoline go up in smoke. I thought surely, since the rule book says they can't have it, I would win. I wish there was a way for you guys to understand just how crazy these people are so I don't sound like a lunatic.

End result? They got a special letter allowing them to keep the trampoline! Seriously! Oh, and a little talking to about how noisy they are and about how to be good neighbors. Basically, this means that since the four other houses on the block are also enlisted army and they are all block party friends every night with bonfires and other crazy noise problems, gee, I wonder who the complainer was? Yeah, I want to live here still.

This little posse they've set up here is so outrageous that they have decided to skirt all rules. Two families have brought in pit bulls and are hiding them out, pretending that they each don't own them and lying to the housing office about which family has them when they get caught so they don't have to give them up. It's like a gang, I swear. And now they have attack dogs.

So, decision time. Give me a new house. Thankfully, they offered me every house they had available and didn't play bait and switch as they are known to do. Amazingly, they thought that the house two doors down from me would be a good fit. Ummm, no. "Mrs. McClain, I know you don't like living on the right of the trampoline, but how about the left?"

So, we are moving. Mother's Day weekend. Booo. We have to pack and move ourselves with no government assistance. Booo. We have to reprime our old house. Boooo. I want to paint our new house, so lots of work there and they'll only give us the key one day early. Booo. I whined about this and said they could at least, despite all the crap of this situation, in which we have to move, at our inconvenience because they can't handle a resident, give us they key during the days so we could work, and they said no. Booo. We have to move over the week my final paper is due. Booo. We are moving to a house with no backyard. Booo. P.S. Collin went with me to check out all the houses. Is it weird that a 3 year old helped me make the decision of where we should live since my husband can't come home from work? Ever. Naaah. Every other military wife gets it.

They did offer us a rent reduction to stay in our old place and we found this shocking when they said "oh we've done this with lots of your neighbors, no big deal." Bryon said, "you mean to tell me that most of my neighbors are paying less for the same house that I'm living in. Oh, that seems fair. Are there any rules you guys stand by around here?" Note to anyone about to live in a Tierra Vista Community (I think Shriever is one, remember that. Their rules are very wishy washy. Push them around).

And now this: we are moving to a bigger house! Hooray! We are moving to a house facing the ocean and both front bedrooms have a view! Hooray! We are moving to a remodeled house! Hooray! We are moving to a house two blocks away from the army gang! Hooray! We are moving to a block of all officers which I never thought I'd be snobby enough to feel was a plus, but Hooray! It has a torture chamber/closet! Hooray! I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a closet, but it's HUGE! Mommy has plans for this "closet." Excellent plans.

And, in other news, we got an elusive spotting this weekend. We are a family! I swear it. While it doesn't happen often, we do spend time as a unit and it does occasionally happen that we are photographed together! We went to the natural history museum and I don't think I've seen Collin that happy, ever. Can't wait to go back.

Hugs! Send some help and hugs to us! We need them over the next few weeks. We'll be crazy here!

He's Got Mad Skillz, Yo!

Picture it, a stadium filled with adoring fans. A jersey. Maybe Dodgers. Maybe Tigers. Maybe Giants. What? I have to satisfy all the loyalties of all the family members, right? The. Crowd. Goes. Wiiiilddddd!No. Not going to happen. Not with the athletic genes of my husband combined with my athletic genes. If he's got my drive, he'll want to be an athlete, but he'll suck. Bad. Evidence. See above. I could put up all the pictures of him holding the bat upside down. Instead, I'll just leave you the shot of him having made contact with the stationary ball on a tee. It's cute. Also cute? How excited he is to catch the ball when it's thrown directly into his glove. Couldn't make his day any better, right? Not so cute? Florescent orange snow fencing to keep mangy, good-for-nothing bark-ass pieces of crap dogs in their own stinking yard. Or, two parentless, non supervised children staring at us through it, longing for any adult interaction, while we play with our own child. Oh, have I mentioned that I hate my neighbors lately? Everyone cross your fingers for us. We are finally on a quest to either get that trampoline removed or to get a new house. We've called the property management company no less than ten times this week to complain and threaten them with their rule book and we are not backing down. It's time for action, folks. Mama has had it. I don't think it's unreasonable to want to open the windows in ones own house without being accosted by screeching howler monkeys.

This is Collin after his performance-enhancing drugs. Just like the big-leaguers.

And, like all the professional athletes, as he's wrapping up his career and realizing that he's got nothing to fall back on, this is Collin considering a dj rap career and practicing those silly hand gestures that supposedly look cool. G.

At least he's got his ride. And he still wears his hat facing forward, not backward or sideways. Phew.

Things that Make You Go Hmmmm.....

I thought the "wearing Mommy's clothes" thing was a one time thing. I'm hoping it will not become a habit. But, this morning when he got up and saw me wearing my ratty brown sweater that I live in, he insisted that I wrap him up in it and carry him downstairs, kangaroo pouch style, the way I used to when he was a baby. Since he is no longer the size of a watermelon, this is not possible and insisted that I find an alternate sweater of mine to wear as well. This is what we came up with.

Why, might you ask, is my child sitting on the kitchen counter? Or, maybe you aren't. Maybe you don't judge. That's nice of you. Some people aren't that nice. Well, earlier this week, we had a meltdown where we finally decided that the nebulizer was no longer our friend (and can you blame the kid for not wanting to sit still for a total of what amounts to 60 minutes a day, holding a mask to his face?) and we began throwing it around and whipping the hose at Mommy and pelting the cat with it or anyone within its two foot radius. It was fun for all. Everyone is happier up here. See? It's nice to have him at arm level so I can schwack him better. Hee hee. Kidding. But no, really that darn hose comes off all the time and it's a pain to bend down and reconnect it.

Well, bye-bye nebulizer anyway (at least for a little while) thanks to quicker inhalers. Phew. But, not bye-bye counter, as he enjoyed the counter top so much, that I couldn't get him to break that part of the routine as of yet. We'll work on that. Little boy in pink sweater, atop my kitchen counter, hmmm, something not right about that.

You know those commercials, for those sugary breakfast cereals where they always say, "Part of this balanced breakfast," and then they show you a teeny-weeny bowl of said breakfast cereal with eggs, fruit, some meat and then some dairy product just to make up for the fact that you are essentially eating candy? Well, my child had part of a balanced breakfast this morning.

He'd never had a Peep before, so he's pondering whether or not he should try it. This, by the way, is something I adore about children. You tell them, insist to them, that they will like it, that it is CANDY, and they spend ten minutes examining it like it could potentially explode, as if the sugar granules on it might, for the love of God, be granules of crystallized parsley (Collin's Nemesis). He actually tried picking OFF the brown dyed sugar granule that is the eye.

Yes, I recognize that both shots are almost identical, but I couldn't stop laughing at how cute he was making that pondering face and I also couldn't pick which one was more adorable. Maybe it's the sweater? J. Crew does make cute clothes, don't they?

We Don't Have Asthma...

But damn it, we are collecting the paraphernalia! What can I say? If this pile o'crap works, and saves me from having to clean barf out of my car, as I had to do today, I will accept, and welcome it into my house. I do wish that the pile were smaller though, that it looked less dramatic, that the poor kid didn't need so much medicine. I mean really. I feel like the poor baby is on an arsenal and it's still not working. On the other hand, there's nothing like a big old pile of gag-vomit to remind you that you do, indeed love your child, and that you have had enough granola for the day. (Aren't you glad that I didn't take pictures of his clothes? It was a pretty big pile)

We dashed to the doctor today, as Mommy made a last minute appointment, literally as she turned the car around in the parking lot from not dropping her barking child off at preschool because heck, why bother dropping him off if they are going to call her in twenty seconds to pick him up because he gags and throws up? Right? Right? Anyone with me? It pains me to let him miss expensive school on top of a day that I miss expensive school. I could do the math and figure out just how much money the two of us threw away today but English majors only know how to read. You should have seen my advisor and I trying to do the math required to divide the 30 credits I need to graduate and spacing it out over the 2 years I have left here, determining how it's possible to work it so i can make it fit. Watching us do it without a calculator? Have you ever thrown a blanket over a dog and seen how long it takes him to find his way out? Bryon does the math in our house.

Anyway, the doctor's take? What difference does it make if it's croup again, bronchitis or just inflammation? Let's not dance around it anymore. He says he doesn't want to say "it" or write "it" down or make a diagnosis until Collin sees the specialist but jeesh this is bad. The kid has NOT STOPPED coughing at all, not a single day since Thanksgiving and we are in a seriously bad stint again. It's increased tenfold. It is as bad as it was at Christmas with gagging vomits and he's wheezing pretty badly. Prescriptions upped to asthma inhalers, and to no kidding doses to the super levels. Mama's scared because these steroids can make him hyper. My kid MORE hyper? Oh baby. Bring it, I guess?

Anyone want to make a gander based on the x-rays? I think he looks perfectly normal, right? He was such a good boy for them. The tech kept saying that he was "taking his picture," so he smiled every time. Can you tell? I think he's smiling out of relief that the Claritin he just got will help with the potential allergy component. Mommy told the doctor that taking the dog's crate out of his bedroom seemed to help him sleep better with less frequent need for his nighttime inhaler and that scared us a bit. We love Eddie but we also prefer not to shred our child's lungs. No snap diagnoses? Well, I'll just save these for the pulmonologist later this month, then. He looks cute in them though, no?

In other news, I'm afraid. Very afraid. Someone has finally adopted a new skill that he really should've been obsessed with from the beginning. He used to do it only at school but he's finally realized that his anatomy operates the same way both at home and at school and now I will have more cleaning to do. Damn it. I was hoping he didn't figure this out until much, much, much later. Oh and yes, his shirt is on backwards. And, inside out. Don't look at me, I'm only a supervisor these days to Mr. Independent.

And, in a non-typical Disney trip this weekend, we had a mediocre time. I know! Weird. Collin, the apple of my eye, the joy of my universe, the beat of my heart, acted like a total maniac and we had to follow through with our threat of, "if you can't behave, this is our last ride and we are going home right now!"

Kind of nice to be season pass holders and going home isn't such a big deal.

He looks kind of cute though, no matter how much of a stinkpot he is. Man it's easy to love that face.

It Wasn't Worth the Fight

Conversation after Mommy got out of the shower this morning, as Collin dangled this shirt from his hand:

Collin: Mommy, you should wear this shirt. I found it in your drawer.

Mommy: No. And what were you doing in my drawers?

Collin: Pleeeease! Wear it! It has a heart on it!

Mommy: What were you doing in my drawers?

Collin: (commences adorable face sequence, sensing he is in trouble) Pleease wear it! It has a heart on it! It would be a good idea because you have a big heart too!

Mommy: (commencing squishy heart-melt followed by remembering her guns) Maybe some other time. What were you doing in my drawers?

Collin: Wait! Wait! Wait! (begins stripping naked) I have a different idea?

Mommy: What's that?

Collin: I should wear it. It will tell everyone I have a big heart and that I love you.

Mommy: (aw, forget the damn drawers. Note: remove that "stuff") You are too sweet (thinking twice) But this is the LAST time you go in my drawers! And the LAST time you are allowed to wear Mommy's clothes (not wanting to repeat this...imagining bad scenarios requiring years of therapy).

Alas, even in XS, a tee shirt for a woman is often a bit large on a toddler, even a toddler up to 4 and 5T in most of his tee shirts. Mommy thought this solution was a bit ingenious. But take a look at those meat hooks clutching at that thing. Jeesh man! His hands are almost as big as mine these days!

Either way, he was happy. But, like most white shirts, it didn't make it past lunch before it hit the laundry basket slathered with stain remover. He's a boy, what can I say? I also called Kari to warn her not to laugh aloud when we met them at the park, for fear of his first public ridicule. I mean, it's not every day you see a boy in a sparkly heart t-shirt held together with an office supply. I felt it was my duty to give her advance notice.

What It Means to be the Mother of a Boy

You learn to put up with crazy, psychotic, behavior that, if exhibited in a girl, would be defined as "that girl is unmanageably wild" and just plain "weird."

You get shot at with toys that are NOT guns. Then, two minutes later, your child that was making you reach for the Excedrin, ear muffs and straightjackets decides to have a mood swing to total calmness. No threats to boarding school necessary. Completion of mood swing to calmness must include total adorableness. Oh, and yes that is a birthday balloon still sitting there next to him. Two days after his birthday, Bryon and I "humanely" (read: gleefully) 47 of the 50 balloons out of their misery. Really, it was my misery, as I'm not sure if anyone can really imagine how annoying 50 balloons in your house really is, until you experience it. Totally worth it, also totally worth popping them while he was asleep. He never missed them but he's still enjoying having a few around. How much longer can we get away with doing away with things like that while he's sleeping without him noticing? Wonder if he'd notice if I was gone? Another joy of being the mother of a boy? Watching him mack on the ladies already. He's still not mastering the art of steering. He knows it. I know it. Gracie knows it. So she totally took the reigns of the jeep today and Collin was all about letting his lady take control. They were both perfectly content with the arrangement. For these pseudo-siblings, who manage to fight over dust particles sometimes, it was nirvana. For bonuses, Collin has managed to sweeten the pot of being my son lately by learning the art of buttering me up. The following phrases have become part of his lexicon. I'm not complaining. These are a smathering of my favorites of his cutsies. I especially love them because I have NO idea where he came up with them. When boys say this stuff, I think it's especially charming because, come on guys, it's boys! So charming!!

Mommy, can I fall in love with you? (said while nuzzling my shoulder)

Mommy, you are my favorite Mommy? (I recognize the absurdity but I'm going to take it)

Mommy, you are my best friend because I keep you in my heart. (seriously!!)

Mommy, will you dry my tears? (something he only whips out when he's crying for a stupid reason and he knows it's a totally adorable thing to say and I can't resist it)

Innocent 'till Proven Guilty

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting in bed (because that's the most logical place to do homework) writing my paper when the mattress started shaking on the box spring. It bounced, it pounced, it shook about. This is who I blamed.

I had my reasons. See, he was not helping me much with my homework. What? The computer screen is on Facebook and you think that's not related to Salman Rushdie and his Pakistani political thematic devices? Shut up! I was on a break! Anyway, Homer felt it was his responsibility during my painful hours of research to continualy drape himself over whatever I was reading or typing and purr to no end, or eat my pen. So, when the earth began to shake yesterday, I thought he crawled into the box spring under the bed and found a new way to irritate me from underneath the bed instead of atop it.

This guy didn't even wake up for our quake yesterday. He's a good sleeper, eh? But, he looks guilty with those 'tickers anyway, huh? 'peaking of 'tickers...we got another referral for 'peech therapy in from the doctor. He thinks Collin may need to get some help finding the letter "s" when it hides before hard consonants. I say more power to 'peech therapy! It'll be nice to go to school instead of 'cool and to go upstairs instead of up'tairs. It's cute and all to listen to little munchkin talk, and he talks pretty eloquently for his age. Half the time I am afraid of the day when he doesn't talk like such a cute little baby; but, I don't want my future space shuttle pilot to talk about his 'pace mission to mars with his other 'pace shuttle pilots. That would just be too silly.

Also to be kissed good-bye according to the doc at our well baby visit (fingers crossed and another referral to another specialist)....

Collin's gross toenails! Hooray! I've been complaining about his gross toenails EVERY doctor visit since he was born! Does anyone else's kid have this problem, or just mine? His big toes and his second toes have nails that are really, really thick and they grow up and out instead of straight. The doctor said babies are sometimes born that way from being squished and curled in the womb (as if it's our fault for not providing them larger accommodations) and they usually straighten out by their first birthday. Kind of passed the deadline there.

So, he's got to go to a dermatologist to make sure it's not some weird, long-named thing that they don't have to fix. Why can't they just call stuff easy-to-pronounce, logical descriptions like, "gross toenail cooties?" He's already had an ingrown toenail (ewwww) that hurt him a lot because they are super hard to cut (it has nothing to do with his squirming). This has lead to the now, traumatic toenail clipping parties we have that involve stradlling the boy and holding him down until child protective services knocks on our door and asks why there is a child screaming, "YOUR KILLING ME! STOP! I'M DYING! IT HURRRRRTS! NOOOOOOO!" Gross. Can you believe that this face can be gross?

I can. Maybe it's because I'm his mother. So, it amazes me how many doctors it takes to keep a kid running. Pulmonologist this month to talk about (gasp...asthma...everyone cross your fingers that it's not asthma), dermatology to get rid of toe ick, and speech again. This kid better be an orator for all the speech therapy he'll have gotten. I think we might be being picky now but for how awesome it worked the first time, I certainly can't say no. He's more verbal than a lot of kids way older than he is. Besides, every time we drive by the building, he still says, "Can I go play with Amber?" Sure, Collin! Let's go!

We'll Miss You, Daddy!

Daddy's been on leave all week. It's been bliss. We've had him home for dinner every night. He's been here for bath and to put Collin to bed, which has left Collin in sheer heaven! That's Daddy's knee you dirty minds! Look how happy our boy is when you are around!

Oh, Daddy! We love having you home! And you are so relaxed! It will be sad when you go back to work tomorrow.

And Collin will be especially sad to see his Daddy go back because he just figured out that you know how to do "The Noble Duke of York" too! Mommy doesn't know it. Just you and Granny! What to do? You'll just have to put in for more leave! There's only one Daddy around here and we just got used to having you back around. Bye, Daddy! See you again in four more months.

Easter with the McClains

Easter is kind of a no-big-deal thing at our house. We feel a little guilty making a deal out of it, what since we don't do the church thing, and it's kind of Jesus' day and all. So, we don't really make a fuss about it. With most holidays being commercial these days anyway, we figure we can do the commercial bit and let Collin have that fun of it and explain later, let him decide. We aren't faithless monster-demons, who don't want him to lose out on candy after all. So we do a little basket and this year decided to let him try dying eggs.

That is a mess, my friends. That is a mess. Thank goodness we put out the vinyl super tarp. Collin only managed to spill the dye cups three times. Mommy, thank goodness hadn't showered yet at 3 in the afternoon because she spent all day working on her still, as yet, unfinished paper on crazy topic.

Daddy and Collin had a blast making some kind of ugly egg that Mommy has no heart to eat because she judges books by their covers and even unpeeled, she'll remember that it was ugly on the outside.

He got TWO Easter baskets because Grandpa and Nana Debby sent him a way more awesome Easter basket than the one Daddy and Mommy made for him. Way to show us up, guys! Kidding, he loved it. Hilariously though, in the way kids have a way of frustrating your expectations, I wanted him to go straight for the monkey slippers that I picked. He went straight for the 99-cent sheet of stickers.

Eventually, he got to the monkey slippers; after, I forced them on his feet. Don't they look cute? There was a theme, damn it! Monkey slippers! Monkey stickers! Monkey pencil! Monkey pencil case! Monkey everything! He loved it! Why! Why! Why wouldn't he put on the damn slippers! Kids! Again, stickers reign supreme in this house but at least he's wearing the slippers! And kick two-three-four! All the signs are beginning to add up to something weird here. Strut, Collin. Strut.

It wouldn't be a post without Bryon's behind, would it? But, it is the slippers, the stickers and the behind, all in one picture. Tee-hee.