Ho Ho… Hold on, what about me?

How do you make a 5 year old, with the academic capabilities of an 8 year old, and the mental/emotional age of a 3 year old understand the idea of gift giving?  Especially when he genuinely believes the world revolves around him?

Kaleb’s class is doing their Secret Santa Shop today.  For those of you who don’t know what that is – don’t feel bad.  Until a month ago I had no idea either.  The PTA (yeah, I’m a total PTA mom) sets up this little shop in the school each year – basically, there are all kinds of items ranging from $.25 to $10.00 that the kids can buy.  The parents send in an order envelope, with a list of who the child can buy for, and how much he/she can spend along with a check/cash.  Throughout the week each class gets to have 30 minutes in the shop to buy Christmas presents for everyone on their list.  Basically, it’s a really nice way for the kids to pick out something for everyone all by themselves.

I filled out Kaleb’s envelope last week and sent it in on Monday.  When I read the list to him, and asked if there was anyone else he wanted to buy for, his response was “Me!  You forgot Kaleb mommy!  Look!”  *He then proceeds to list everyone I’ve written down*   “Oh!  Look, you forgot Milo too!  Kaleb and Milo mommy!”  I proceeded to put Milo’s name on the list, and did my best to explain that this was to give gifts to other people, he didn’t have to buy himself a gift, that’s what Mommy, Daddy, and Santa are for.

No dice.  Walking to the bus this morning, I try once again to explain to him what he’s going to do today (of course, I do this so stuffed up I can barely hear myself, and was probably shouting).  Once again he gets mad and informs me that I forgot Kaleb.  Well, no.  I could never forget Kaleb – but this isn’t about Kaleb.  He’s not buying it.

I ended up sticking a note in his backpack asking his teacher to make sure he didn’t buy $35.00 worth of glow in the dark slime.


Just a boy and his bed

You know that Mason is sick when he doesn’t bother to pile all of his clothes and cars on his bed before he goes to sleep.

The kid managed to catch a killer cold, and passed it on to me (yay).  After trying to work the Secret Santa Shop at Kaleb’s school this morning, and failing due to my screaming, toy throwing, backpack dumping, goldfish crushing 2 year old; we came home to try and sleep through whatever bug we caught.

Since the day he was moved from a crib to a toddler bed Mason has insisted on emptying his entire dresser (regardless of the child locks on the drawers) onto his bed, throwing in a good 20 toys for good measure, before laying on top of it to sleep.  I will never understand this.  It seems to be miserably uncomfortable, but oh well.  The kid has been living out of a laundry basket for months – simply because it would be completely insane to re-sort all of his clothes twice a day.

So, as soon as we got home, got our shoes off, and he got a cup of juice, off he went.  Right into bed, and he was asleep in three minutes.  No clothes, no cars, no toys – just a boy and his bed.  Now I know he’s really not feeling well – it’s going to be a long few days.

Cry Baby

Kaleb thinks Disney Jr. made me cry (he might not be wrong one of these days!).

When he got home from school today he was furious because I had the tv on “Pop Hits”, not Christmas music.  So, I told him what numbers to punch into the remote to get the Christmas music back.  Meanwhile, I’m getting ready to make chili.  About 30 seconds after he puts on Christmas music, he comes running back out and tells me he needs to watch Disney Jr. instead.  As I cut into the most potent onion I’ve diced in a long time, I tell him to get the remote so I can show him what button to hit.  When he comes back to the kitchen my eyes are watering like mad, and there is nothing I can do to stop it (I even half froze the thing, it was that strong).  He takes one look at me and stops in his tracks.  Then he says:

“Mommy, it’s okay, don’t be sad.  We like Disney Jr!”

I just about fell over laughing.  I tried to explain that onions make your eyes water – he didn’t believe me.  He got right up to the cutting board and informed me that onions don’t cry because they don’t have eyes.  About 5 seconds later he’s yelling because his eyes are watery.  Silly bear.

On the plus side, he learned how to use a can opener (although, it would probably worth my while just to cave and get an electric one).  He fed Mason a spoonful before I separated some to sugar down (it’s a bit to spicy for the Mini Monster yet) – now Mason’s nose isn’t stuffed up anymore, and surprisingly, the kid came back for more.  Now if I could just get them to wash dishes!

Here Kitty Kitty…

I wish Mason would stop eating the flash cards.  And cars.  And action figures.  And balls, books, chairs, and other assorted items.  The child will stick anything in his mouth – and I do mean anything.

While I’m hanging lights in the hallway I see him dart out of the bathroom, and run toward the living room.  Knowing he probably has something he should not have, but not knowing what, considering I didn’t hear any drawers open and he wasn’t splashing in the toilet, I jumped off the ladder and went chasing after.  With the string of lights still wrapped around my arm – successfully yanking my arm nearly out of it’s socket and pulling down all the lights I’d just spent fifteen minutes hanging.  Once I untangle myself from the lights I find my child with the toilet brush inches from his mouth.  I run over and grab it before disaster strikes, scold him, and put it where he cannot reach it.  I refill his milk, and put some toys in the hallway so he can play with me while I start all over.

Twenty minutes later, we are in his room, attempting to clean the mess he made throughout the night.  He closes us in, and laughs hysterically.  Runs over and dumps out the bins I just refilled.  Laughs again.  Runs out of the room, slams the gate behind him.  I sigh, I start over.  Out of the corner of my eye I see him dart out of the bathroom again.  So again I jump up to give chase, trip over the gate, say to hell with it and jump over the gate in my rush to get to my sneaky little monster.  This time he’s got a bottle of diaper rash cream in one hand, a toothbrush in his mouth, and a bottle of shampoo in his lap he’s trying to work open with his free hand.  Seriously??

Take it away, lock the bathroom door, finish cleaning his bedroom.  We go to a friend’s house to check on her pets while she is out of town.  Mason chases the cat all over the house shouting “Meow!  Meow!  I OO OEWWWW” (this last part is what it sounds like when he says I love you).  We let the dogs out to play for a while, fill up food bowls – tell Mason five times to get out of the water bowl – let the dogs back in, go to the bathroom while he chases the dogs (the cat hid).  Come out of the bathroom to find him burying his matchbox cars in the litter box.  Are you freaking kidding me?!  Clean him, dig out the cars, clean the cars, clean up the litter on the floor, put the dogs in their crates, come home.

Where he proceeds to bite the dog.  I quit.

Sophia – the princess from hell

Dear Disney Jr. – Thank you SO much for continuously playing advertisements for Sophia The First:  Once Upon A Princess.  Really, thank you.  As a direct result of your persistence, my morning started off with a BANG – literally.

Kaleb in all of his obsessive compulsive glory, has become fixated on this movie/soon to be new show.  Five days ago he wrote out the title, drew a tv, wrote the title once again in the tv, made some weird remote looking contraption under the tv – then he cut out each piece, and taped them all back together again.  Do not ask me the reason behind this, because odds are good I will never know.  What I do know is that his “Sophiathefirstonceuponaprincesstv” (said just like that) has gone everywhere with him since it’s creation.  Everywhere includes bed.  Where he drools.

At 6:20 this morning Kaleb picked up his “Sophiathefirstonceuponaprincesstv” and discovered that there were water marks – which had smudged his marker.  He tried to blame Mason for this (it was drool, I’m sure), but before he could even get the blame out, he had a complete meltdown.  Right there in the office, one leg in his pants, one leg out – chaos ensued.  In between the bouts of screaming, I can make out him saying he needs a new one.  I then try to explain that he has to wait until after school – because that took him a long time, and we really don’t have much time before the bus gets here.

More screaming, hair-pulling, rolling around, kicking – and of course (even though I really should know better) I get down on the floor with him in an attempt to contain him before he gets hurt, and my face is introduced to the coffee table.  Eventually, I grab a piece of paper and a marker, draw out another “Sophiathefirstonceuponaprincesstv” as best I can, and give it to him.  As calmly as if nothing happened, he gets up, puts his pants and socks on, waits patiently while I put his shoes on him, grabs his backpack and out we go.  I will count myself lucky if I don’t have a black eye.  Of course, he took the paper and the marker with him.  His bus driver was less than pleased to see him get on the bus with marker in hand – but hey, what are you gonna do?

The Griswolds in the Monster’s Mansion

I feel like Clark Griswold right now.  I don’t understand.  I spent HOURS last year carefully wrapping all of our strings of lights – then used two zip-ties per string to keep them all nice and neat… how is it that I’ve just spent nearly as much time trying to untangle them as I did trying to prevent the tangling in the first place??

Of course, it doesn’t help that Kaleb and Mason have a new favorite game – I’m going to name it “wrap ourselves up like mummies with Christmas lights, laugh hysterically, then laugh even harder when we see the look of horror mixed with resignation on mommy’s face!”

Luckily, I only have one room left to string lights up.  Then I get a break until we get the tree – unless I decide that it’s a good idea to tackle the outside lights myself – a venture I have seriously had to talk myself out of multiple times now, while standing in the attic staring at the box of icicles.  The conversation has gone something like this:

“You’re afraid of being on a ladder.”   “But I’m getting pretty good at it.  I mean, look at the kitchen lights, and the stickers on the wall!”  “You have no idea what you’re doing”  “I could figure it out.  How hard could it be?”  “Um, hard enough not to do it.”  “Point taken.”

With that decided, I’m off to unwrap my children (again) before one of them tries to plug himself in.

‘Morning Darth!

My first thought when I woke up this morning –  how did Darth Vader get in my bed?  My second thought – I really need to stop falling asleep watching Star Wars.

Then it dawned on me.  The noise that woke me out of a seemingly sound sleep was Kaleb.  Again.  Ugh!  I’m blaming Milo.  At 2am a new app on my phone (this one as a matter of fact) that I had failed to silence made an obnoxiously loud noise.  This caused Milo to act like a complete loon.  For 15 minutes he barked his fool head off, running in circles around the bed.  No amount of pillow throwing or  “Please stop barking before I lose my mind” reassurances could stop him.  After having to get up three times already because Mason was having nightmares, I fell right back to sleep when the dog stopped his campaign for insanity.  Considering I didn’t hear him make any noise when Kaleb came in (the dog is like the world’s most paranoid security system), my guess is that the 15 minute bark-fest woke Kaleb up, and he came and crawled into the bed.

If this is not the reason I woke up to find a snoring 5 year old in my bed, and the clock isn’t reason, I’m back to square one.  Not okay.  I’m going to go ahead and consider last night a fluke and keep my fingers crossed.  Otherwise I’m going to have to go back to walking into my bedroom door in the middle of the night, and that idea holds only slightly more appeal than having Kaleb kick me in the face in the middle of the night.