The Hair Speaks...Or Does It?

Collin occasionally voices his opinion on his hair. Of course, he also voices his "opinion" on just about everything these days. He's two. Two year olds are pretty much likely to do that, aren't they? And, he changes his opinion to suit counter to whatever it is he thinks I'm thinking, at least that's how it feels. Anyway, considering the little wisps of adorableness that I call his hair, are often in his eyes, or making him scratch at the tips of his ears, I could potentially buy the fact that his hair just might, might annoy him. Still, I only get a 50/50 positive response when I ask him if he wants a haircut.

Today, when Daddy finished washing his hair, he looked so stinking cute in the tub, I chose that moment to pose the question just one more time....

Of course, I can't take his answers too seriously this time because, he was clearly drunk. I mean, look at him. If that's not the face of a kid who has been drinking, I don't know what is! Besides, only a drunken fool changes the subject from his rockin' do to Dory (his squeezie rubber bath toy).

What? He can take a joke!

What Mama Missed...and What She Didn't

I've had a migraine off and on now for over two weeks. It finally got the better of me this weekend. It's been so bad, that I've decided that a headache this bad needs a name. It's a force of it's own, something to be reckoned with. I have named her, Penelope. I figure it's one of those names that is unique, right? The kind of name that is kind of weird and if you have a sore throat, hurts to say. So, I think it fits. Penelope ruined my weekend.

Gramps and Nana visited and I didn't see them...mostly, because I played rude hostess and stayed in bed. Blah. I missed out on the train museum.

Does this look like fun, or what?

I mean, a whistle! A whistle! How could that have made my head hurt worse? Don't worry, he got to bring it home with him; so, I didn't miss much of that part of the train museum.

I managed NOT to miss chili dinner, which is Collin's favorite. Since I felt like BARF from Penelope messing with my entire body, I ate chicken soup while everyone else enjoyed what looked like barf. Collin, however thoroughly enjoyed his helping.

I did miss the tide pool walk the next day though. Sad, sad, sad. Collin brought me a rock...which he's now stolen back to carry around in, you guessed it, his garbage truck.

Unfortunately, I also missed "dressing Collin," in the morning as well. Apparently, when Mommy's sick, nothing gets done correctly. Seriously, do these pants look like they fit? It's a good thing I showed up when I did or he would've made it out of the house like this. Note for Gramps and Dada: Boys do NOT wear Capri pants.

Just before I took my zillionth nap of the weekend, Daddy decided to wash the car! I almost missed it! I was shocked, SHOCKED I tell you. Why? Maybe because it's been a year since he last washed my car. I think he got the idea from Gramps who washes his car regularly (like brushing teeth regularly...maybe because his car is soooo purty).

Alas, Gramps and Nana had to leave this morning...which meant Dada went back to work, of course, and I was alone again with Collin (and Penelope, who decided to stick around). It was nice to hang out with Collin just the two of us again. We started the morning by putting stickers on just about EVERYTHING in sight, including ourselves. It sounds like a lot less fun than it was (i.e. it was a freaking blast). He thought it was great!

And, by our fourth outfit change of the day (and no, not because he wet himself, but because he was THAT filthy that many times) I was in so much pain, I relented and let my neighbor take him for the rest of the afternoon until Bryon got home. I'm off to the doctor tomorrow for more medicine and to see if I can get my other medication adjusted. I think I'll leave Penelope out of the discussion, lest he refer me to another doctor, the kind that runs the looney bin.

But, I thought Collin looked so cute getting ready to go to the neighbor's house, I had to take a picture...he had his little sack packed with a snack and some spare underwear and pants. It was adorable to see him carrying it. He looked like a big boy.

How To Reward a Liar

Collin tells me that he did NOT, repeat, did NOT throw the ball at me. What do you think? Lying cannot be tolerated in this family, even if it is done this adorably.

Clearly, this type of insolence must be dealt with swiftly and with great severity. What to do? What to do? I know! Make sure he's given the most awesome present ever!Yeah, Grandpa and Nana Debby decided to send Collin a really cool fire truck, just for the heck of it. I guess, maybe because he's a super big boy who is just great. He thinks he got it because he didn't pee his pants all the way to and from the airport (and heck all week).

He seems to especially love the bell. What is it with this kid and LOUD noises? Like the shirt? His other Nana does. Lest you think the fibbing was forgotten though just because FedEx came though....This is what Collin had for dinner! Mu-ha-ha!!! Looks delicious, huh? Well, shows you what you all know. It was. It's called Skordalia. And, it went with our grilled chicken. We all ate it. Well, all except for Collin who used it for abstract art. We found a dip that he didn't eat, despite the fact that we told him it was made of edamame, which he eats by the truckload if it's not ground up in the food processor like this. All is forgiven of course, at the end of the day. How can't it be? Look at that sweet boy (and the dog, no less!), looking through old photos of his daddy as a baby with his Gramps. Is that sweet, or what? He even thinks his Gramps looks like a stud with a beard in old velor track suits. Now, that's good lying.

The Lamest Serial Killer Ever?

I cannot TELL you how excited I was this morning. I made a purchase earlier this week that required assembly, a multi-tiered drying rack. You'd think that a laundry fairy such as myself would have something like this already. Nope; I dry my delicates draped all over flat surfaces in the laundry room and end up annoyed at having to move them all over the place to open and close the stupid washer and dryer to keep doing the endless loads of continuous laundry. I put the assembly-required box in the laundry room, hoping hubby would notice it and magically it would be put together for me: "voila." Alas, it was not. I decided to take it upon myself.

Look! I'm so proud. I didn't even need any tools! It may fall down and kill us all--but, whee! I even did laundry just to put on it. Look how many delicate things I had saved up for this bad boy. I tried to get a picture of Collin's extreme excitement at Mommy's "tower tunnel," but he was too mad at me for telling him not to touch it. Believe me though, he was as excited by the thing as I was, which begs the question: Is my boy already lame? Laundry is exciting to him.

Still, of further concern is the following. I have noticed of late, that he is horrible. I know, it's the "terrible two's," right? Well, he's not obstinate or ornery; he's just whiny. It's as if he cannot speak without crying. It makes me want to give him something to cry about in that old fashioned way. Not really, of course. But, I miss my old sweet kid that laughed ALL the time. Now, I only get glimmers of him. So, I find myself giving in to weird things that I know will make him laugh, despite their oddness.

Like, letting him watch the the video I took of him scaring the fur off the cat. (Watch it if you haven't seen it!) Giving it some thought, don't serial killers usually have a childhood backgrounds enjoying the cruel and unusual torture of animals? And, since it cracks me the up to no end to watch him crack up at his own cracking up (wow, does that make a circle or what?), how sick does that make me? Since I don't have any bodies in my basement, I'm going to call it a wash because anything to get a two year old to laugh, barring anyone else's bodily harm, is fair game. Oh, and no bodies in my basement is not just because I don't have a basement.

I think letting him do weird stuff like that must be paying off somehow. This morning, while waiting for garbage manny, he summarily beat the snot out of a flower bush (which, he of course got in trouble for), but managed to scrounge one, solitary flower, the size of an unphotographable pinhead out of the wreckage to hand to me, saying: "Bootiful flower. For mama. Love you." I'm pretty sure he'll grow up just fine. No bodies in his basement either.

Thin Mints and Beef...It's What's for Dinner

If you are Collin, you have a strange and new obsession with "dip." That means that EVERYTHING you eat has to be dipped in something, anything. Today, at lunch, Aunt Sara got to hear the play-by-play of him dipping his cheese in ketchup. I got to see it. Yum. It got better at dinner.

He got a cookie mid-meal. Yeah, I know...cookie, mid-meal?! Hey, if your kid was backed up in the pooper all day, complaining of "boo boo tummy," and couldn't get things moving down there despite his best efforts and then FINALLY got some action going, even if it was poor timing (like say, as soon as we started chewing) and it landed where it was supposed to (aka the potty), then you'd give him a cookie too. Anyhoo, since the cookie was right next to the meal's accompanying "dip," which was homemade BBQ sauce containing hoisin sauce, orange juice concentrate, BBQ sauce and some other random things; I'd have thought it an unlikely companion to a Girl Scout Thin Mint. I was wrong.

Gross. That's all I can say now. Gross. Apparently, my son has the taste buds of, well, nothing. He has no taste buds at all. When asked if that combination of flavors was pleasing to his palette, he did at least, respond with a negative. However, he continued to dip every bite of that cookie until it was gone. Blech!

Oh, and by the way, the BBQ sauce is meant to accompany BBQ beef and orange kebobs, which are actually, quite tasty and go well with the sauce.

One Man's Reward....

Collin and I are in the process of attempting "mini-outings" in underwear. Every time we go out for the day in pull-ups, he pees his pants like he's got a leaky hose. He's fine all day in underwear at home, even at the park. I think he thinks pull-ups are diapers and just can't figure them out. He'll pee in the potty too wherever we are, but in between those adventures to giant toilet land, he wets his pants like nobody's business and doesn't seem to care. My theory is that he needs to be in underwear, not pull-ups. Bryon disagrees and fears the public underwear monster as if it is as dangerous as leaving the house with the kid strapped to the roof of the car instead of the car seat. I say: trust the boy. Look, I did this morning...on the duvet!

With pee-making-liquid! AKA water. Or, in Collin-speak...waGer.

So, we went to Target today. Wheeee! If that's not livin' large, I don't know what is. We had to go potty twice in a forty minute trip. Once to check out the facilities because I told them they existed and lo and behold he wanted to see them five minutes later. Push as he might, no pee. Bummer. Then, he proceeded to act like a cart surfing monster in the store. I love being "that" parent who can't control her maniac in the store, don't you?

Alas, he pottied right before we left by announcing at a decibel I'm sure you all might've heard, "PEE PEE!!!" So, we re-visited said facilities and made some pee in the potty. Pretty great. Not so great was the fact that he announced his potty success to the cashier at an equal volume. It's kind of weird, don't you think? So, despite his craptacular attitude in the store, consisting of standing in the cart and throwing his truck on the floor, over and over and over again, I had to cave and get him the promised happy meal. Grrrrr. I hate promises.

And, since he got yet another garbage truck today, he was so stinking excited to gather up a handful of them, he begged to sleep with them. Rewards, rewards, rewards. What a stink pot. Do you think he'll get a good nap today? I think not. Whatever. That's why baby monitors have "off" switches, right? :)

At least there's some explanation as to what happens to his hair in the afternoons. Nap head starts pretty early in his sleep process with that hair.

Corn..and Other News

I hate corn. Really, I like corn. It's tasty. It's sweet and crunchy; both on the cob and off. It's buttery and salty and oh so yummy. Now, alas it's gross. Want to know why? Take a guess.

I don't think you need further explanation do you? What? Collin thinks it's funny!

In other news; know what's more terrifying that demonstrating how to wear a drum to your son? Not much. Basically because once the seemingly innocuous device is balanced on your body, he comes at you wielding the drumsticks of death at breakneck speed. AAAAAH!

Thankfully, he's decided that wearing his drum by the oh-so-wearable strap is not as much fun as peering through the other side.

In the aftermath of birthday fun, Collin has taken seconds away from his garbage men toys to play with...more garbage men. That's right, more presents arrived today from Grandpa and Nana Debby, to include another garbage man, which he clutched for most of the afternoon.

He did put it down long enough to go play outside in the playroom...with the rest of the garbage men. He decided that they were hungry of course and fixed them a delicious meal. Does this indicate a sickness of some kind? Seriously, look at this array of garbage men lined up waiting for their fixins.'

It's an obsession really; and, I've decided that it could be worse. I could be subjected to day after day of listening to Elmo songs or stupid Barney crap. Instead, I have to love the garbage man with the same fervor that he does. So, I can live with that. The only part that's no so fun is that we have to have "garbage" for the garbage men to put in their trucks, which is annoying. I hate not picking it up and actually throwing it away. I mean it is trash, after all.