Fog Horn, BEEP!

No good photos today. (Fog horn BEEP!) No photos today at all. Want to know (Fog horn BEEP!) why? It's because I'm finding that (Fog horn BEEP!) it takes all of my mental agility to actually focus my mind into not striking (Fog horn BEEP Fog horn BEEP!) the boy today; or, other some such horrible (Fog horn BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!) thing, like accidentally pushing him (Fog horn BEEP!) into traffic or accidentally making the little piggie (Fog horn BEEP!) that goes weee-weee-weee all the way home somehow eat his nose (Fog horn BEEP!) for real. Can you guess why? It has something to do with fog horns. This is obviously a caryover from yesterday.

Someone once told me that I shouldn't be so eager for Collin to learn to talk because kids have this weird way of latching onto some phrase or another every once in a while and then driving you absolutely crazy with it. Hmmmm, I get it now. Some days, it's such a joy and a pleasure to be a parent. Some days, I wish I was on drugs. Fog horn, BEEP!

Cute...But Annoying!

Yep, Collin's still doing the "underwear" dance. He spent the last two days on a roll of using the potty...until today. He had a bad poop incident this morning, a two-fer if you will. I should've known that the little bean that he squeezed out wasn't the end of the show; but hey, I had hopes. High hopes. I also had hopes that when he was "helping" me with the laundry, that he was doing just that, so I took a few shots. I mean what is cuter than my little man in those way too cute kiddo underwear doing work?

Then, I realized what I was taking a shot of. Yeah, what do you think he's doing here? I realized just a moment too late to get in on the action and get it in the potty. Oh well. Damage done. And he's now scarred for life. What is with kids and poop? I love the kid though. He's so darn funny. He just wants to do it so badly.
But, he found a way to annoy Daddy today too. Daddy and Collin went on a walk and heard the fog horn. I was out shopping. Apparently, Daddy explained that the fog horns beep. Well, Collin then stood on the corner and would not be moved for five minutes solid, where he repeated, "fog horn, beep!" Then, when he got home, he stood at the window, shouting the same, endlessly for ten minutes. I got a taste of it all evening as well. Conversations went something like this.

Mommy: Hey, what is that? (pointing to a picture in a book)

Collin: Fog horn beep

Mommy: Ummm, no. Try again. It's the mommy chicken. What's that called?

Collin: Fog horn, beep

Mommy: Ummm.

Collin: Fog horn, beep! Fog horn, beep

Mommy: I'm so glad we took you to speech therapy because you're learning to talk has been such a blessing to us all.

Anyway, pretty annoying. This is not a picture of Collin annoying Gracie with the fog horn business, just annoying her in general; but, I thought it fit.

Stress Relief

Collin has decided, yet again, that today is an underwear day. He's also decided that he's deathly afraid of anything to do with poop. He pooped his pants; but, don't let him know it. He not only wouldn't admit that it happened, but when we got to the bathroom to clean up the "evidence," he tried to wedge himself into the corner between the wall and the toilet; all the while screaming "No poo-poo pants! No! No!" Of course, when a kid's pants are half down when he wedges himself in such a position, guess what happens? Yeah, poop falls out on the floor, he steps in it and you get ground-up turds. It was AWESOME! And, now he's even more terrified of poop.

I'm not sure where this came from considering he used to think poop was awesome. Maybe it was from the time I beat him silly when he pooped his pants. Or, it was from the time I made him eat it. Or, it was from the time I gave him a six-hour time out for pooping. Wait, none of that happened. Oh, it's because kids are weird about poop. Anyway, after that "incident" he still refused to wear a diaper and then, hours later, FREAKED out about peeing too. Still, he wouldn't pee in the diaper either. I LOOOOOVE potty. Love it. This resulted in our infamous 40 minute tantrum.

He didn't want to pee in the potty. He didn't want to pee in the diaper. He didn't want to forget the whole thing and eat lunch. He didn't want to go to bed. He just wanted to cry. Endlessly. Loudly. Thrashing on the floor. It was the best 40 minutes of my life. I hope to relive it again soon.

Eventually, we calmed. Pee was made in the potty without wrestling, coercion bribery, trickery or any yelling (yaaaaay Mommy!) and the day has progressed. Collin has taken a nap without peeing in bed and even woke up mid-nap to go potty. Phew. I count this as a successful day so far. Each little success is all I can hope for right now. Should he want to wear a diaper tomorrow, or even at his wedding, whatever. I'm cool with it. Seriously.

To relax, I dug through my old pictures and found this winner. It is of the happiest day of my life.

What did you expect? A wedding picture? A glowing post-birth picture? Pishtaw! Since you can't tell who it is, I feel okay posting it. Heck, you can't even tell it's me...IT IS!!!! I had a meanie of a boss who HATED me. We had a fundraiser to get to throw pies at faces and since everyone knew what a (you can fill in the expletive) this guy was to me, they bought me a pie. Throwing a pie at this guy was the single greatest stress-relieving moment of my life. The applause generated from rubbing the whipped cream on that head was awesome. Ahhhh, I can hear it now. Okay, I'm ready for more potty training.

Inappropriate; or, Just (fill in the blank) Timing

Timing is responsible for shots like these. I haven't been able to get one like it since. Bryon calls them inappropriate. I call it awesome timing.

For the most part, I have bad timing...in everything. For example, I had to go to the DMV today to get a CA driver's license. On the way, I was in a slow patch of street traffic, not exactly a rarity in our part (or ANY part of California at 8 a.m.). Where my little safe cocoon of a car came to a stop, I got to peer out my window at a lovely park, where a nice man chose to exit to the sidewalk and promptly pull his business out of his pants, fondle himself for a minute or so and the pee on the light post. AAAAAH! It was like a car wreck, I couldn't look away. I did manage to look at the ground and not AT "him." I just had to be sure of what I was seeing. Was it, in fact, pee? Yes. Yes, it was. See, timing! Had I left three seconds earlier, I'd have been the car in front of me, and not been able to see this lovely image. Oh, and by the way, he didn't look homeless or indigent. So, riddle me this...what's the guy doing peeing in a park...or rather, leaving the park to pee on the sidewalk?

Anyway, timing sucks. I also managed to chose one of the probably 364 of 365 days of the year that the DMV's computer systems "go down" to apply for a license. So, instead of a usual week-long wait for my turn, I had to wait six weeks in their waiting area. It was awesome. Thankfully, Kari watched Collin all morning. The best part is how pleasant and helpful the employees are there. Truthfully, half of them are helpful but the other half are exceedingly unhelpful and make up for the rest. I was horrified to even attempt this process since the last time I went to a CA DMV, a crazy woman backed into my car while I was in park an then proceeded to nearly physically attack me in the parking lot because she was convinced I hit her. It was terrifying! The rent-a-cop security had to pull her inside. They may be 60 years old and forty pounds overweight, but they step in when needed.

Oh, and since Bryon's been gone, having chosen excellent timing for his trip, the faucet upstairs has nearly fallen off, the dishwasher has decided to completely stop draining and the water filter flew off while I was doing dishes last night, completely soaking the entire kitchen (not to mention me!). I fixed the water filter though. I felt pretty important after that one. Just call me Rachel the Riveter.

Return to Battle?

I thought it was a fluke the other day, the whole couch peeing incident following Collin's insistence that he wear underwear. I was wrong. Yesterday, when he got up from nap, not only did he insist that he not be put back in a diaper, but he actually went to the drawer, pulled out two pair and spent a good ten minutes deliberating about whether he should wear choo-choo underwear or car underwear. I wonder if he was debating which would make his butt appear larger, a locomotive or a sportscar?
Regardless, I let him wear underwear. And, I had a mild case of the shakes from post traumatic stress as I recalled the last time we tried this. Meanwhile, he plotted how to knock my socks off. Thirty minutes after putting his cutie-patootie underwear on, he dribbled a teeny-tiny bit and marched his little buns over to me to tell me "wet!" and then grabbed my hand to march me to the potty. Can I fault him for not knowing the precise way to hold it ALL the way just yet? No. A dribble is okay by me. He knew what to do. Hooray! The evening proceeded the same way. Three successful trips to the potty!

Then this morning, he insisted on underwear again. Three successful trips to the potty again before disaster struck. I left him alone for probably forty seconds to take the stink-o trash outside to the can. Considering it's about sixty paces from the door to the trashcan, I can't have been gone that long...just long enough for him to wonder where I was when he stood at the door to pee his pants. I comfort myself with the fact that he was waiting at the door for me when he did it; so I've convinced myself that he must've been eagerly trying to tell me he had to go. Forget the fact that I'd only asked him seconds before. It's a work in progress. Anyone who's done this process before, feels my pain. No, of course I don't have to go unless the urge is so strong that my bladder just might burst through my skin if you even so much as touch me.

Of course, poop is another story. Isn't it always? I'm still not so sure I'm ready for this battle to have begun again, but I'm not so sure I have a choice in the matter. I tried to put a diaper on him for nap time because I KNOW I'm not ready to wash sheets EVERY freaking day again and he about killed me with nun chuck legs and sass-mouth about not wanting his diaper. Reasoning with a two-year old about how he has to wear a diaper because he didn't empty his bladder before bed is pretty useless so I pinned him down with a good elbow to the neck of course. I'm preparing for this battle that I didn't ask for by eating way more girl scout cookies than I should. Good strategy, eh? They have got to be fortified with something. They make me feel better at least. Well, until I realize how many I've eaten.


P.S. Doesn't he look pleased with that toy? It's a repeat visit of one of the "poo-poo presents" he got from last time. We were evil and took them all away when he reverted back to diapers. We figured we could give them all to him again when we started over. He'd never know the difference. We were right! And, that potty is the best for anyone who has a boy! No pee spray anywhere and it doesn't scrape the little guy when they stand up!

Because You Can't Make this Stuff Up

Collin's got a new favorite food. I like to call them strawberries. He likes to call them....

All I know from this is that Eddie is starting to look a little more fearful than usual that he's next on the menu (what with all the lip smacking accompanying constant reference to canines!) and if the Scarecrow lived here, he'd probably be a little fearful as well...and his little dog too. HA! I know, I know. I'm hilarious!

Yellow Ledbetter (or Bed Wetter)

Ah, a flash from the past, right? Didn't we all wear flannel shirts and baggy pants at some point in the 90's and pretend to understand what the heck Pearl Jam was talking about when they moaned about Yellow Ledbetters? Was that just me that wore flannel? Maybe. Anyway, I was thinking of that today because I made yellow dinner. I know, a stretch. But, I did actually make that connection when I saw my delicious feast.

Appetizing, eh? It was delicious though. Tunisian chicken with raisins and potatoes. Yum. Anything with turmeric in it looks like someone cracked a highlighter on top of your food. What can I say? It also looks a bit like barf with little turds on it. Still, I had to post the picture because I know that Daddy, who's gone again, will be drooling at this, knowing that the more neon the dish, the yummier it is.

It was immensely popular with the Collin crowd. He literally polished off three, yes THREE helpings of chicken, potatoes and corn. I figured corn would be a good compliment, no? Come on, what better? Yellow! Why shirtless you ask? Well, because turmeric is, like I said, a highlighter. Even touch it and it's like paint. Sort of like curry. Considering he's got the use of his opposable thumbs down to about the skill level of a chimp, I don't exactly trust the kid not to paint his face, clothes and anything else with yellow.

So, why the bed wetter remark? Today, when the little man got up from nap he promptly announced, with attitude mind you, "No change diaper! Collin wear underwear!" He went to his drawer got them out and then said, "Choo-choo underwear!" We talked about it. I explained we don't pee on them and I (VERY RELUCTANTLY) agreed to let him wear them. He was so excited! He jumped all over the house shouting about his underwear. He also insisted he did NOT have to go potty. That is until ten minutes later when he peed on the couch. So, maybe I should call him couch wetter. I'm pretty sure that kids come in cute little packages so we don't drown them while we rinse out their wet pants and underwear.

Oh, and he FINALLY climbed out of his crib yesterday. It was horrible. He cried for about ten minutes solid afterward. I am thinking he won't do it again because of the trauma. If you even start to ask him about whether or not he'll do it again, he interrupts you to shout "NO!!!" I was shocked at the sound of the thud. I've heard we've all got termites in these houses around here, so I just hope that the supporting beams of our ceilings can take the weight of my massive kid falling at warp speed from the top of his crib rail.