Join Me in Snarkville

On our way to pick up bagels:

Duke: Mama, we are doing teamwork.

(Teamwork is something they are teaching them at school and I’m thrilled to see he brings it home with him.)

Me: Yes, Buddy, we are doing teamwork.

Duke: We’re a good team.

Me: The best.

Duke: Mama and Duke ROCK.

Me: Yes, we do.

(Then I cried with joy and wondering if I could eat him up because he would taste much better than a bagel.)

Duke: Mama, don’t be sad.

Me: Buddy, I’m not sad. I couldn’t be happier. Sometimes Mama cries when she’s happy and you saying that we ‘ROCK’ just made me happy.

<SNIFFLE>

Duke: Ok. Now, can we turn right, PLEASE??

Duke has discovered monsters. Oh sure, there was this brief experience, but I think that was more because of a commercial than a real understanding of the scariness that is monsters. Now, you need to know that Duke has no real fear of monsters, in that he doesn’t think they will take him away, eat him, or even steal his covers. He has much more of a sibling relationship with monsters (not that Prince and I have given birth to monsters, either — but you get my point). He doesn’t want monsters in his room, probably because he’d rather they not get to play with his toys while he sleeps, I think. (Every so often he decides he doesn’t want a cat or a dog in his room either. I think this is more about declaring his space than actual dislike.)

So, need less to say, monsters are fun to talk about and we talk about them a lot. Mostly it is fun and giggles, but every so often I notice that Duke is more than a little concerned. Normally, I take the chance to grab him up and whisper in his ear that I’m here to keep him safe and as long as mommy and daddy are here we will keep him safe. (I also told him that Mommy sprays for monsters and put special tape around the house to keep monsters away.) (more…)

Do you know what season it is?

As heard in my car yesterday:

Duke: Mama, please open sunroof.

Me: No, Buddy, it is too cold outside.

Duke: Why?

Me: That’s just winter, it gets all cold outside.

Duke: It’s not winter, It’s Falling.

Me: Falling?

Duke: Yes, look, the leaves are falling from the trees, it is Falling, not Winter.

Now you know.

There will be 1,000’s of posts today about candy crashes in the blogosphere.  Sorry to have to add one more to the mix — but this is SPECIAL — no really, stop looking at me like that.

Sidenote the first: I had a lunchtime event to go to, hence my Smart Ass costume (no, Beth no pocket protector involved, however in a stroke of genius, I added my son’s little bow tie and a yarny tail — happy?).  I won a prize!  Well, actually, I won an iPod shuffle (RED, thank you) and now the thoughts of what the heck to do with it occur.  We could give it to Duke, which seems like the right match of his iPod skills to machine, BUT the Queen Mum is joining us in the Mac world and I know she’d love an iPod, BUT the shuffle is really too small for her and while we have um, THREE iPod-hand-me-downs to choose from, I think my mother can have something better than another hand-me-down tech item or even a won shuffle, for that matter. (Holy run-on sentence, Batman!)

Sidenote the second: There are no Halloween photos of the boy this year.  I know, I know.  The problem is that this was the year he GOT it.  He was so excited to even think about getting the candy and wearing his costume that I could not hold him still for a photo.  We had to do everything NOW and there was no time for “Mama wants a photo.” (Alternatively, I suck as photo-documenting my son’s life — I prefer the former, k?)

Now for the story, finally… (more…)

I have a love/hate relationship with Halloween.  I love the concept of dressing up, eating candy, and the fun of it all.  What I don’t love is the scary.  I strongly dislike anything that is meant to fright — mostly because even at my old age of 34, I’m likely to have nightmares.

So, when picking costumes for Duke, I head straight for the cute and away from the monsters.  He’s not been the baby Frankenstein or even a popular movie character.   In fact, with one exception, he’s been animals.  Monkeys mostly.  In fact this is year three of the monkey — year two of the same costume — because we were on a ship last year and none of his friends saw it.

However, this is the first year I’ve not had to bribe Duke to wear his costume. Well, the first year doesn’t count, he was a few months old — less opinionated then.  Last year, I literally had to tell him ‘to get candy you have to wear the costume’ — he put the costume on and I gave him a piece of chocolate.  Then he proceeded to fall asleep and I carried a sleeping (and heavy) monkey all over a ship for the evening.

But this year Duke discovered two things about Halloween, pumpkins and the fun of dressing up.  He told his teachers yesterday that he was going to be a monkey AND he was going to wear his costume to school.  Um, ok.  They have a parade in the morning and I’m not sure if they are to wear it or bring it — but Duke left for school in his best monkey suit (complete with banana).  Um, he’s pretty adorable if I say so myself.  And I think — oh how I think — this might be the year to beg candy from the neighbors — do you think he’ll stay away until it is time??

And for the first time in years, I’m dressing up too.  I needed something that reflected my inner self.  The part of me that no one sees and will be shocked to learn that I’m all about.  I worked hard to seek out a costume that would shock and amuse my friends.  So I offer to you, my personal Halloween Fun…

One, rather smart ass!!

…out of everything.

Let’s see when last we spoke, I was trying to empty my vacuum cleaner of feathers and shaking my head as to my son’s ability to explode pillows.

The next day, yes the very next day, my father was still combing feathers from Duke’s hair.  I pulled a feather from his ear and that was nothing compared to my dryer.  Everytime I turn around, I find more and more feathers.  Seriously, if I didn’t have a photos proving what happened, I’d be forced to wonder if we were making money on the side with a chicken plucking business.

In other random news, I just caught the youngest cat with a matchbox car.  This will make Duke happy, since Duke wants nothing more than to play with Healy — but a 4 year old doesn’t understand how cat’s play — so he keeps offering to share his matchbox cars.

My youth was the era of the sitcom. You’d sit down to slices of people’s lives far funnier than your own for only 30 minute bursts at a time. You’d see totally unrealistic situations play out for your own enjoyment and then you got up and walked away giggled a little and moved on with your life. (more…)

Of the thousand things that may seem hard to explain to another person (and parenthood being the role by which you are required to teach, explain, and define another person’s world), I may have just hit upon one of the hardest.

How exactly do you explain to a 4 year old, who has never encountered a bone in his chicken, how you eat a drumstick?  I might mention that I seriously doubt that in his 4 years of life he has ever seen meat on a bone.  (Am I a bad mommy for that?)

Why did it make more sense for him to hold the fat end and try to eat the skinny end?

What part of “we don’t eat the bone” was so hard to follow?

Why exactly was I trying to explain to my son that we don’t eat chicken bones?  I mean we all figured out how to eat a drumstick somehow in our lives right?  I don’t recall having to have the “this is how we eat fried chicken” talk.

For what it is worth, drumsticks are “heavy”, require “help” to eat them, and ultimately were consumed when the bright parent (me) stood up and removed the meat from the bone (and a biscuit was promised for his hard work).
Regardless of all of this, I turned my back on the table as I was loading the dishes into the dishwasher long enough for the youngest cat to steal the bone.  It was almost as large as the kitten.

My boy, my FOUR year old boy, went to sleep last night talking about waking up and being FOUR. No, I have no idea why he wanted to be four so badly — other than he’s been looking forward to his birthday since April (not at all like his mother, who never mentions her upcoming birthday randomly and possibly to strangers). However, there is NO way that his dreams of being four included me working since 6:30am and being completely exhausted. (more…)

There’s this thing in my world over the birthday.  Oh, yes, we all remember last year when I focused on me (which is totally unusual, right?) and looked at my birthday for what six or seven straight months?

Well, my dear son has been in FULL on birthday mode since like May.  Yes, I’ve trained him well, though I fear I may be forced to share my own birthday candles with him next month.  I’m a mommy, I can share — for the good of the child — and because after he goes to bed, I’m totally having a second piece of cake with my OWN candles, dangit.

Ok, back to the point here.  Duke is turning four — tomorrow.  Yes, tomorrow.  And yes, we’ve totally been celebrating around here for about a week.  (Frankly, this is really no different than the year he was born and I was kept trying to get the party started and he was all “No, thank you, Mommy, it is really nice in here. But I digress.)  I’d say the party began on Wednesday of last week.

A List of Birthday Celebrations that may or may not be a Four year olds idea of a birthday party:

1. First trip to the dentist.  Went very well.  Duke likes the part where they “got the oatmeal out of his teeth.”
2. A day at the amusement park.  Highlights included riding MANY rollercoasters — some of them completely on his own.  He also got soaking wet on the rapids ride — and never stopped grinning.
3. Shopping trips that included TWO Costco runs, a trip through Target, and Lowe’s.  Oh yes, that was fun.
4. 18+ pancakes consumed over the weekend.
5. Watched a movie AND ate a bowl of popcorn.
6. Ran the vacuum cleaner in his room.

And the birthday hasn’t even begun quite yet.  As I have it figured we will STILL be celebrating this birthday at the end of August too.  And you know, I’m totally ok with that — just as long as the four year old girl in me gets *MY* month of September.  (You thought we’d NOT talk about my birthday??  It’s like you don’t even know me.)