Mommy Needed Comfort

We hung out in the crib for the last time....

Yeah...it was fun!
Apparently, despite my wiping all my tears before he could see me and my hiding my despair as best as I could while we set up the big boy bed, Collin could feel my sadness and decided to help me out the only way he knew how during his bedtime stories tonight.

Photogenic, aren't I? Despite the hideousness of how gigantic my nose looks in this picture and the gorgeous nature of my hair, I decided to share this tender moment with the world anyway because I just melt at my sweet son.

Anyway, he was beside himself as we set up his bed. It's not finished yet, and at this moment looks like a flophouse setup at the Y with standard issue plain bedding. We have the rest of his stuff on order but figured we'd give him the start anyway. Bryon broke the railing setting it up but what the hey, maybe he won't fall out. We put my old preggo body pillow next to him instead. He looks pleased with the setup anyway.

Still, the jazz of the setup has worn off for him now that he's actually IN there alone with the big boy bed. I've lost track of how many times I've been summoned into the royal chamber now to address various issues: the first of which was that he could still SEE his garbage man and wanted to hold him. Yeah, garbage man went to bed in the closet. I'm looking so forward to the adjustment period.

The Beginning of the End of an Era

Yesterday afternoon Collin got his leg caught between the crib slats so badly that it took me upwards of ten minutes to free it. It turned purple before I could get it out and he was as hysterical on the outside as I was on the inside; me, of course, keeping the outward signs of calmness so as not to freak him out further. Meanwhile, I was thinking that I was about three seconds away from calling the fire department or hacking the crib to bits to get my precious little big guy free from it's clutches of death. He went through a phase a few months back where he did this on purpose for attention, but stopped when he realized it was mildly painful to him. Thankfully, I never had to resort to Crisco.

Oh how I fear the big boy bed, but I think it's time. The freedom of movement he will have scares the pants off of me! Oh, and yes, the laundry increase that I will now have gives me the cold shivers because sure, he's potty trained for daytime and for naps but not overnight. I figure we'll work on that goal for when he's thirty. Washing a crib sheet is no big deal. Washing whole big boy bedding all the time? Yippee! But, I figure it's better than teaching him to walk with a prosthetic limb.

So, I've ordered some bedding and a little rail for the twin bed, and I'm already feeling misty eyed every time I put him in the crib, thinking it's one of the last times I'll do it. Oh, the baby! Oh, how he's growing! Oh! Oh! Oh! It's so fast! And, yes, I've already started taking pictures of him sleeping in the crib, thinking that it might be the last time he does it. This is him at nap time today. Am I sick, or what?

Not as sick as he was after spinning in this chair tonight for way longer than he should have...Daddy actually had to put his hands out in front of his face to catch what we thought was going to be the vomit shower of the decade. Thankfully, when Collin opened the mouth on his very, very green face all that came out was "ooooow! Colllin tummy boo boo!" Then, he jumped down and said, "More!" Phew.

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.