I’m Peeing… In the Trash!

My mom said I should blog about my son peeing in the trash can because apparently it is… funny. So, here’s the shameful story:

I was lying in my bed reading some young adult novel that I’m way too old for when I heard one of the kids get out of bed. I waited and listened for the sound of little footsteps walking back to bed, but it never came. Reluctantly, I flung my warm blankets off and padded into the dark living room (where the boys are sleeping while we stay with my parents) when suddenly I saw…

“Z-boy!!!” I cried in shock. There stood my seven-year-old gleefully peeing IN THE TRASH!

IN THE TRASH, PEOPLE! EW!

Z-boy craned his head around to smile at me sheepishly.

I watched his stream die the death of the red-handed.

And then I yelled at him (I mean, yelled as softly as you can at night) things like, “If you were scared to use the bathroom, you should’ve gotten me.” And, “You know better!” And, “That’s disgusting!” And, “Ew!” And, “Really! YOU KNOW BETTER! AND YOU’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! AND I LOVE YOU GOODNIGHT!”

Oh my gosh, so gross! And upon further investigation, this wasn’t his first rodeo. *Shudder*

So, what have we learned? Never assume your first grader knows where their bodily fluids belong.

In This House

Today we closed on our house.

That sounds so… generic? for our house of 8 years. To say goodbye to a place that has been our shelter, safe haven, but most of all, our home.

I made the obligatory Facebook status about the sale of our first house, but how could I convey the bittersweet feeling in such a brief status?

I decided to elaborate here.

In this house, we have argued over paint colors (mostly me not liking what I chose and asking TheBaldEagle to paint it again), laughed until we cried, and cried until we laughed.

In this house we have brought home three tightly bundled babies held close to our hearts. I’ve hugged my husband in the darkness of the night as his shoulders shook with sobs over the loss of his grandparents. We’ve woken to the cries of sick children and fallen asleep with them nestled against our chests.

In this house, we’ve scrubbed purple crayon off the walls (multiple times), burnt cookies, and spilled red-colored drinks on light-colored carpet (oi vey). We’ve gone for walks, failed bike riding lessons, and skinned knees. We’ve kissed boo boos, watched sunsets, and caught fireflies.

In this house, we’ve had first birthday parties, cookouts (which may or may not have singed eyebrows), and played croquet–badly. We’ve picked vegetables from our very own garden, forgotten to pick vegetables from our very own garden, and lamented that our very own garden could produce so very many friggin tomatoes!

In this house we’ve made home movies, a rap song about ice cream Sundays, and danced. We’ve pretended to be lost astronauts, princesses in disguise, and an alien circus. We’ve told stores in the backyard, eaten melting popsicles, and drank hot tea when it rained (or was it smoothies?).

In this house we’ve cursed college courses, celebrated obtaining new degrees, and started new careers. We’ve looked at our reflections and sworn off cookies (or maybe that was just me) only to relapse into an Oreo addiction, gained weight, lost weight, and gained weight again.

In this house we’ve argued to the point we thought we’d break, cried over nothing and everything, and laughed about ridiculous things only we would get.

In this house we have loved deeply. But mostly, in this house we have lived.

This Boy is On Fire!

TheLittlePrince had a Kevin moment from Home Alone.

In Home Alone, there’s an iconic scene when Kevin casually pats on aftershave. Then he suddenly slaps his hands to his face as the burn sets in, his jaw dropping as he wails in agony.

Now I have the scene set for you.

So, TheLittlePrince also was feeling adventurous with the toiletries. I walked in to see him diligently squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

A very benign scene.

Except my 3-year-old had grabbed the minty toothpaste instead of the bubble gum flavored toothpaste.

And you’re probably thinking, “So? What’s the big deal?”

Well, when you’re 3, EVERYTHING is a big deal.

I tried to warn him, but got rejected with a loud, “I’ll do it myself!”

So I let him do just that. And after a minute of gleefully brushing, the brushing suddenly ceased.

And the screaming began. Screaming here. Screaming there. Screaming everywhere. Because apparently his plight could not be contained to one section of the house.

I finally managed to wrangle him back in the bathroom where I rinsed his burning mouth out and had a happy toddler again.

And maybe he’ll listen to me next time. Maybe.

But he’s 3, So probably not.

Where boogers come from…

Another apology for the absence. Internet is… lacking right now.

In other words, I’m in the middle of nowhere with just enough cell signal to be a tease.

Cell Phone: “Want to check Facebook?”
Me: “Yeah!”
Cell Phone: “Okay, grab a bowl of popcorn. It’s gonna take a while.”
Me: :´(

If you missed the last post, we’re moving. In fact, we’re living with my parents right now while we look for a house.

Bless their souls.

Let us now have a moment of silence for their sanity.

Anyway, K-girl has finally started walking at 14 months old.

It’s. About. Time.

As a parent, I realize I shouldn’t rush these milestones and enjoy the time that she is my baby girl… but I am so tired of her crawling all over her clothing and ruining the knees in her tights! I’m all, “Walk already, kid!”

She can walk and still be my baby. She’ll just be my baby walking in clothes without filthy knees.

And another important milestone was reached, this time by TheLittlePrince: Today we learned where boogers come from.

As TheLittlePrince sat on my lap today, I heard this: “Mommy, there’s something in my nose! Mommy, there’s a booger in my nose! Mommy, there’s disgusting in my nose!”

Ah, the life of a mother.