Baby Tea Leaves: Mom to Boys

Showing posts with label Mom to Boys. Show all posts

Wednesday

The Finger

That's the finger you get when someone's giving you "the business."

That's the finger you get when you tell someone that it's time to go up to the room because there is a giant storm moving in and you don't want to get hit by lightning what with being the tallest things on the beach and all.

That's the finger you get when you ask someone to find their other shoe so we could proceed to shelter.

That's the finger you get when you tell someone not to do something and it offends him deeply.

That's the finger you get if you are an inanimate object and someone crawls underneath you to get something he dropped but he slams his tiny head on you by accident.

That's the finger you get when it's bedtime and someone does not feel like doing bedtime. At all.

That's the finger you get when you tell someone they've had enough fudge for the night.

That's the finger you get when you're getting the wrath of a two-year-old.

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Friday

Batgirl. Even Before Coffee

This "bug" is picking us off one by one. But you know what? I'M NOT GOING TO WORRY ABOUT IT ANYMORE!

It stinks and it's kept us homebound for the past week and we go on vacation tomorrow to the beach but approximately 50% of us will not be going and I'm not going to worry about it anymore.

There is nothing I could have done differently. There was no way to avoid this.

It is what it is. So there. I don't care anymore.

Besides, we're having a little fun.

Before 9 a.m. this morning, I was already BatGirl.

I had a special request from a certain little sick Batman that I dig out my Halloween costume from last year and be his BatGirl.

What can you say to that?

I tried to say, "After breakfast."

And then I tried to say, "After coffee."

But he wouldn't take "maybe later" for an answer. And he used his little Bat powers to find it himself. So there was no pulling one over on him, even with a 103 temperature.

So I was BatGirl. And I can tell you with absolute certainty that first thing in the morning, pre-coffee with mascara running down my face, it was not nearly as pretty as Halloween and well, might have actually have looked more like Elvira than BatGirl, minus the big hoots.

Just in case you were wondering what we're doing this whole time, just know that at any given moment there are at least two people dressed like a Bat person, and at any given moment there could also be another Batman (a tiny one) in which we find ourselves in a grammar quandry: is it two BatMEN? Or two BatMANS? BatMENS?

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Tuesday

Doesn't Take Much to Fill Up a Sick Day

Captain's Log 2190: Another Sick Day

So far, we've:

Watched 453 episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse
Done the Hot Dog dance 453 times.
Played "Toy Story 3" 223 times on the Leapster
Painted a piggy bank
Took turns playing rock band with the Elmo guitar
Watched Phineas and Ferb 329 times
Went bug hunting inside the house *gag*. We came up with 1 dead Palmetto Bug in the sliding door track, 1 random bug shell under the coffee table *gag gag* and a cocoon in a quilt (really? What the hell is this. Seriously. Was a moth trying to eat the blanket but found out it was too big a job, decided he was tired, made himself a cocoon and went for a nap? And by the way, this makes me hate rainy season because we're always a little more buggy this time a year.But I suppose it's entertaining for two little boys who love bugs.)
Played around with my NEW BLOG which is almost done (YEEEEHAWWWW!) And that was just me, actually. While they were watching one of the 600 episodes of Mickey Mouse or Phineas and Ferb of course.
Downloaded 2 new apps for my Blackberry
taken temperatures 12,984,287 times
had one minor freakout when the fever got a little high.
ate tacos.
played with more toys from the roadtrip that should be happening right now but isn't.

And it's only 1 o'clock.

Oh what the rest of the day shall hold.

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Monday

Quoting the wise Agent Oso

It's all part of the plan, more or less. Right?

Like the wise, Agent Oso says anyway...

This morning, I'm coming to you from my kitchen. No 12 hour roadtrip to North Carolina. No one-million stops and snacks and movies and roadtrip toys and yelling at each other and roadside time-outs and carspotting and pecan tasting and picture taking.

But worst of all, no sister. Which is why we were going. And I miss her so much it hurts.

Sigh.

I knew it was all over when my two-year-old laid his head down on the table at Cracker Barrel yesterday just before we left to come home from our weekend in South Florida. For some strange reason, I brought my thermometer (scoring good mommy points here) and it read 101.6. Oh, bugger.

I guess I held out hope that today would be a different story and we'd still be able to go, but he spent the ride home with a fever, all night with a fever, and this morning there was barf. I'm not sure what the rest of the week holds yet, but right now there is a giant fort in my living room, two children and a mommy in pajamas and Monsters, Inc on tv and I've been busting out the toys that I had gotten them for the long road trip.

It's so hard for me to throw in the towel and slow down the speed once I've mentally prepped myself for three back-to-back trips and all of packing and running around with the kids that three weeks of trips entails. When we got home last night, I was flitting around the house packing for the next two weeks because we were supposed to leave this morning, go to NC then come back and go to the beach for a week. I was going to get the oil changed this morning, get in a run and load everyone up and head out. I was going to bring my bike and get my training in North Carolina. I was going to run, I was bringing my GPS watch. I have a sprint triathlon at the tail end of the beach week and I was packing for that too.

Going going going.

But then in the middle of it all, with the suitcases spread open everywhere and clean laundry everywhere and the lights all on, we decided to stay home.

And I sat down with my arms crossed on the couch like I was 4 years old and I threw myself a mini pity party. And then I had a beer. And then I had two more and we watched Tosh.O and we laughed at the cartwheeling goalie and I felt better.

It took me a good hour to change modes and resolve myself to the fact that we were going nowhere this week. It still doesn't feel quite right. This sucks.

But the little boy is happily playing at the table with his Buzz and Woody and he has no fever and he looks so stinkin cute.

Oh well.

It's all part of the plan, more or less.
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Saturday

It's the Small Things...(Plus a policeman named "Ariel.")

Hooray for free Wi-Fi at Starbucks!

It's the small things. It really is.

At the end of our drive, the only thing I wanted in life was a quiet corner with a plug and an iced latte. That is all.

And I remembered I had my "after 2pm coupon" with me ~~because I have already partaken in a Starbucks earlier. Shhhhhh. Don't tell.~~ So that meant my drink was only $2!

An outlet, a $2 iced latte and free Wi-Fi. Seriously. Does it get better?

My mom and I left my dad at the hotel with three toddlers in the same hotel room and when I left they were all bathed and jammied up and in their beds, but sooooo not happy about it. Hope things are looking up for him by now! *snicker*

It's nice and quiet here.

The drive to South Florida went really great with these little beings! It was only a 5 hour drive, and we would have left much earlier had it not been for Michaels and its irresistable magnetic force it has over us. I wonder each time I visit, why does Michaels have the power to suck me in and keep me there and not want to let me go? It has a sort of magnetism that just when I am getting ready to walk toward the cash register it finds a way to divert me all the way back to the back of the store and down each aisle again. I do this again and again and again, and when I am in the store with my mother and Michaels is doing this to her too (we have no defense!) then it's twice as bad. We start walking to the front and then she's diverted and I'm diverted. And it takes forever for us to meet up again and then as we walk toward the front the cycle starts again.

2 hours later...we're on the road.

Really, I wonder, it is like a craft caffeine or craft crack, it's brilliant. It's like what the Colonel puts in his Kentucky Fried Chicken to make it so addicting. Or used to, anyway, back when it was yummy and had all those terrible trans fats in it.

Well anyway, the drive was great. We watched a lot of movies, drew, sang, slept, and ate snacks. (Well, not me, I was driving.) It wasn't until we arrived at the hotel that the madness (and of course the sweating, my God the sweating!) ensued. The restaurant of course is always the most stressful (the squealing, the ceremonious knocking over of the water, all the banging and the of course, the not eating.)

And then I got to skip out of the room while my dad hunkered down in a darkened hotel room trying to convince three toddlers to go to sleep! OK, I feel sort of bad now. But he offered!

I am, however, much more better prepared than I was for our last roadtrip, which means I actually have items that are keeping them busy besides snacks (which was where I was a huge miserable failure of a mother last go round.) Each of them have the following:

A backpack from the $1 section of Target (actually each one was $2.50) but they are so cute. One is shaped like a puppy, another is an alligator and another is a butterfly.
A kid-sized travel pillow, the kind that wraps around their neck like for the airplane, they're so tiny it's priceless! Also Target dollar section.
Stickers and paper
A friend (Two Buzz Lightyears and one Strawberry Shortcake - all on clearance.)
3 magna-doodles.
A partridge in a pear tree.
I have a ton more tricks up my sleeve over the next week and a half -- Leapster, books, activity books, new movies, etc etc but I'm going to ration them all out as necessary for survival.

Also, the Disney Store had these cute little figurine sets on sale for $8, so I bought three sets, and each day I will give them each one of the figurines from the set and I have a tiny little cute bag for them to fill up with all the figurines by the end of the trip. Because once we're done with this one, we're headed to North Carolina and that's a 12 hour drive. Which will probably be much funner *sarcasm*. Anyway, I got two Toy Story sets and one Little Mermaid set. And some of you might be thinking that the Little Mermaid one is for my 2 year old but no, it's for my niece. And the rest of you are now wondering why I would buy the Little Mermaid set for my 2 year old son, so if you must know, it is because he calls himself "Ariel." Yes he does. No, I'm not worried. Not that I should be. Whatever with that. Tonight, when they were running around the hotel like rabid lunatics, I gave the boys some Police Man trinkets (a badge, fake binoculars, a police shield and fake walkie talkies -- also Target dollar section), the little one went by the name "Police Man Ariel."

You go figure that one out.

Anyway, that's a whole 'nother story for a whole 'nother day. "Police Man Ariel" is as good a place to end as any!! Have a wonderful Saturday!

And ps. If you're wondering how to blog from your Blackberry, you go onto blogger on your computer, you got to 'settings', you find the "mobile & email" section, scroll down to the bottom and there is an "e-mail posting address", and you can send an e-mail to that address from your Blackberry and it will post to your blog. Nifty! The only thing is, I haven't figured out how to title it, it doesn't seem to have a link (thanks Pubsgal!) But I can live with that for now because I'm lazy.

I will spend Saturday and Sunday trying to post silly pictures.

Oh! And there is a ridiculous pool at the hotel I am SOOOO swimming in first thing in the morning. Because Coach Joe came through! I have a plan now! That means I am officially training for a half-iron distance triathlon and a full marathon. I am officially "in training"! Shoot. That means I actually have to do a half-iron and a marathon now, doesn't it?

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Thursday

How Much is a Red Firetruck Mall Stroller Worth to YOU?

Because I was wondering the same thing myself the other day when I passed by the red firetrucks of love that you can rent at the mall that my two little mens ogled over.

They gushed. They begged. They believed this was a slice of heaven on earth. They didn't say it. But I knew.

Then I looked at the $5 price tag as I walked by.

Five bucks to rent this germ trap? Really? Because they see a fantastic shiny red firetruck but all I see is a place where zillions of children have drooled before them and a vast empty space for germs to live and breed. No chance. No chance in hell. Sorry guys.

But then I found myself in a "situation." And my tune changed just a bit.

I was at the mall yesterday (again) to go to the Disney Store for a present, but I was with the two mens. And I had forgotten my stroller.

*Gasp*

This was not good.

So I thought about it.

I weighed my options.

And I came up with the answer.

$5 for the germ trap stroller? Or $1,000,000 in Disney Store damages?

Hmmmm.

Stroller it is.

Well the kids of course were over the moon, so we walked to the only place where the double-decker germ traps were located, which was across the mall at the entire other end and level than I had parked (of course) and I went to pay. And it didn't take my $5.

What?! Come on!

I couldn't understand why.

Until I saw that it wasn't $5. It was 7! 7 bucks! Because it's $5 for the single and $7 for the double!

Ugh.

OK, fine. So then I bit my tongue and made an executive decision and put the damn card in already and rented it and as I pulled out the firetruck from its holder, I thought, "OK, this doesn't look so bad."

Because not only was there a HUGE basket underneath for my giant purse, there was a DOUBLE cup holder for a mommy beverage! Or two!

Things are looking up! Hooray!

I wiped it down with a bunch of wipes and put the kids in and everyone was happy. Smiles everywhere! And mommy's going to get in and out of the Disney Store without incident!

Of course, then I find myself standing in line at the place that offers these delectable mommy beverages because I have to, since there are cup holders staring at me and I must put something in them. It would be practically rude not to.

But when all is said and done, we are now $11 into the mall trip and I hadn't even gotten to the Disney Store yet.

Yes, they're looking inside longingly. Sooo the point of the firetruck.

We finally get inside the Disney Store for what we went for, which was a Tinkerbell backpack for my cousin's daughter and some little trinkets for my kids who are about to go on back-to-back road trips. So I am in cohorts with the Disney Store lady and I'm handing her things to put behind the register so my children don't see them and I zip around one of the displays with my giant firetruck and CRASH!

I hear the lady gasp as this giant firetruck wheel smashes into the display's bottom shelf, which of course is glass, and all of the plastic princess dishes fall over. I lose all color in my face and the kids comment about the mess I just made. And then I begin to hate the firetruck again. This thing has a huge wingspan! I can't move anywhere! Its turning radius is ridiculous!

Have I mentioned that it is now past lunchtime and even the golden firetruck of love can't keep two toddlers from starving and yelling and begging for everything in the store? Again, I am sweating. And I have just destroyed a display. And I overhear the lady say to the other lady something about remembering about how "fun" it was to have a 3 year old. I'm pretty sure it was because I, with my firetruck and two screaming toddlers, jarred some spectacular memories.

The lady assures me it's all OK and she'll clean it up but I still feel like a jerk and think to myself that maybe if there were a super-giant firetruck that would fit all three of us that maybe we could have gotten out of there without breaking anything.

But let's face it. The firetruck was extremely useful for the two of them and for keeping them from destroying anything at least, which was its entire purpose after all and for that, I am grateful. Especially since we spent probably an hour in there and the only damage done was make a lot of noise and wreck a display and that wasn't even their fault, it was mine. Right?

Well, I learned on this day that a) this particular firetruck model should not be wheeled around in tight places; b) $7 is a small price to pay in certain situations like this one, where the emotional + physical toll could possibly be much greater and c) don't forget your stroller.

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Tuesday

I Have Tornadoes Tearing Through My Life

One day, I'll remember my two little mens swirling into a store yelping, flailing about and yelling in their squealy, loud, high-pitched and definitely not "indoor" voices and I'll think it was cute.

One day, I'll remember standing outside a Hallmark store with them, scared to death because I am about to unleash two bulls in a china shop, explaining ~~pleading~~ to them not to touch anything because it is mostly glass and I will wonder why I forgot the darned stroller in the first place. And I'll find it all very funny.

One day, I'll remember how everyone in the world knew we have just entered the room because we didn't "enter" the room, we blew right through it. And I'll think it's hilarious.

One day, I'll remember in hindsight that they were spirited little boys with active imaginations and strong personalities and I'll think it was actually a good thing they weren't two little mens who sat with their hands folded in silence.

One day, I won't have to hold my breath before I turn and close the door and turn the key after leaving the house, wondering what the heck I am doing taking them out of the house and into the public and hoping for the best.

One day, I won't have to literally run in and run out of somewhere because they have a "good behavior" expiration and it's about to run out.

One day, I won't have to stand up and yell things like, "No spitting!" or "Be NICE!" or "Stop pinching your brother!" or "That's a train track, NOT A GUN!"

One day, I'll think about how I thought I wouldn't have to say all those things one day, but they'll be 13 and 15 and I will still be saying those things and I'll think that's funny too.

One day, going into a store or a restaurant with them won't entail me profusely sweating.

One day, because I am persistent, they will hear the word, "No," understand the word, "No," and listen to the word, "No."

One day, I will remember how I thought that one day they'd listen to the word, "No" and I will be 84 and they will still not listen and I'll laugh about that while rocking away in my housecoat and my dentures.

One day, I won't have to ask someone who was watching them how they behaved without cowering in fear of the answer.

One day, I will understand why boys are so rough and make everything into guns.

One day, a long car ride will entail annoying repetitive questions like, "Are we there yet?" rather than high-pitched screaming and wailing for hours upon hours upon hours.

One day, I will be able to carry a purse without a diaper in it and without an entire first-aid kit and vending machine in it, too.

One day, I will be able to have a phone conversation. While they're awake.

One day, I will be able to walk into another room for more than a second without fearing that they will destroy the house or each other.

One day my little tornadoes will instead be little rainshowers and enter a room nicely and quietly instead of tearing through it.

And one day, I will remember that I was a nervous wreck 90% of the time. That I sweated a lot. That I stopped caring about getting that look from other disapproving parents, (because I had to for survival.) That I would sometimes close my eyes and listen to their tiny chipmunk voices because one day they will have manvoices and they won't be quite as cute.

I will remember that they were also quite adorable and when they slept. And when they farted and giggled afterward.

And I'll remember that they often surprised me at odd times with little cutenesses like stopping in the mall play area to kiss my knees and offering to help the other one get onto the toilet to potty train.

And I will think it's all very funny.

And I will actually miss it.

One day.

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Friday

Scream Free, That's Me!

I DON'T WANT TO YELL ANYMORE!

There. I said it.
Have you found that after you get to a certain age or have children, everything becomes so much more annoying? Stop that tapping! You're charging me for using my pin number? Are you seriously not going to take back this water bottle belt that I haven't used even though I'm upgrading and giving you more money for the more expensive one????

It's like how old people start not caring about what they do or how they drive, they just back out of the driveway without looking and say, "Look out! Here I come!" They don't even pray that you stop, they just plow on out with complete faith that you will, because they're old and they can.

Recently, I've approached that first step of elderly, where I have noticed that I, too, have stopped caring in certain scenarios. It's like you get to a certain age and you don't wanna take any more crap from anyone. Because that's what I've done all my life. I've been the one who just sat aside idly while someone completely took advantage of my niceness.

Whenever this happens and I'm in the midst of someone actively taking advantage of my niceness, I think back to 8th grade basketball. I had fallen down on the court and was hugging the ball and an entire gaggle of girls from the other team came stomping over, trampling me, ripping the ball away and from the stands I hear a mom call out, "That's right, girls, step all over her! Get that ball!"

Bitch.

But that's the type of person I was. I was too nice to get up and go stand up for myself and plow back over and knock them down for revenge. And my basketball career ended that year to be honest. I was just not aggressive that way. I was the passive aggressive type. I would be aggressive, but only from my side of the court or the field, i.e. softball or volleyball. Not in a contact sport type of way. And in life and career, although I was a leader in my job, I respected authority just a little too much and I would always, always get ripped off at the car dealership.

When I had children, a variety of things changed, like, for instance, my ability to take crap and the amount of shame I carried around with me. Now I didn't care anymore what people thought about me (or my underwear in the middle of the gym floor), and I wasn't afraid to go into a store and demand something and/or write a strongly worded letter if I wasn't happy with the results.

But I also began to yell more, too, and mostly at home. I would lose my cool and be the one throwing the tantrum right alongside my 4 and 2 year olds. How cool am I?

Aaaand I really wanna stop doing that. So I'm issuing you a challenge for 30 days. I am becoming a scream-free zone. Even though it is really, really, really, really, really, really, really hard to not yell when you're the mother of two toddler boys who are 19 months apart.

But here are some of the ways I have done this (I explained this a little for our May Monday Project at the Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans). And so far I have been successful.

I ask questions. Do you think that's a good choice? Do you like it when people hit you? Can you try asking again in your indoor voice? Can you use your words? Was that a nice thing to say? Can you try that again?
Change the subject. Look at that shiny object over there!
I try to offer two mom-approved choices so they're under the illusion they have a choice.
I've stopped saying "no" and instead say what we can do or offer an alternative. I.E. Him: "Can we climb a giant ladder and stand on the roof and jump off?" Me: "We can go outside and make sand birthday cakes, how about that?" Him: "Can we have cake?" Me: "It's time for breakfast, but maybe after dinner."
Spell out the consequences nicely. "Hitting is not ok. You will not be allowed to play at the spray park if you hit." And then promptly remove him and follow through with the consequence. Although that does not net a pretty reaction from the child, so remaining scream-free in this instance is extra-difficult. Mommy may need a huge reward ~~beer, wine, chocolate cake~~ for keeping her cool in this scenario.
I have tried diffusing situations way before they brew. For instance, now if we leave for school at 8:55, I get us ready at 8 because it takes about a half-hour to decide which shoes we want to wear and because for some reason, they slow down to a stop when we have to get ready to go somewhere, so this gives us time to do all that toddler dilly-dallying.
I give them a head's up before we change activities. (One more go down the slide and we're leaving! We're going to put on pajamas right after dinner, watch one Noddy and then it's storytime!)
Finally, if I really, truly get pissed off, I whisper angrily. I get quieter rather than louder. And it has become so much more effective than yelling! They know I mean business when I'm whispering.

So we'll see how it goes. So far it has really been a lot more zenful in the house. And everyone is yelling a little less. I'll update here next Friday with my progress and if you wanna join in my little Scream-Free Project, feel free to post about it and link up down in the comments, or just tell me how you're going to be scream-free too. Because I can use all the suggestions you have!! Safety in numbers, I always say!

* * *

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Tuesday

My Son on the whole "Doing Some Good" Thing..

I've been spending a lot of time contemplating my existence. Honestly, that's really not a new thing, I tend to get overwhelmed with the finality of death and the vastness of infinity. (How's that for depth in the morning before coffee? I apologize.)

The overwhelmedness hits me in waves. I think about it a lot, get overwhelmed and then stop. I don't like to think of my very existence in this world as such a small blip in time, like it is. Between 50-100 years (if I'm lucky) is really not much time in the scope of things. Sometimes it really upsets me. Other times it makes me want to live fully and appreciate each of life's moments, no matter how annoying some of them are. Other times I live obliviously, but I don't really like when I do that because I want to live each day consciously, with purpose. That doesn't always happen.

I told you I'm a victim of my own head.

One morning in particular, I was feeling a little deep and at the same time getting a little upset at my older son because of the things he sometimes says. Sometimes he talks about violence like it's great and fantastic, like crashing into things or people or smashing his brother or something like that. Probably all very normal boy-stuff but I have no idea and all I am trying to do is raise two little men with good hearts and smart minds. (Is that too much to ask?) So this kind of talk really stresses me out. It makes me think I've gone wrong somewhere and I ask questions like, "Where's the sweet boy that likes to share all his toys and says, "Please" and says, "No, I insist! After you!" ~~And gives his cheese sandwich shaped like an airplane to the homeless.~~

So I was sitting at a stoplight taking my two boys to preschool and I was thinking again about not only how fleeting life in general is, but how fleeting driving them to preschool as tiny little men is. Everything just goes so fast.

And I hoped and said a prayer to myself that eventually one day my sons would understand that with such a valuable little blip of time on this earth, they would use that time to do some good. Whatever that is.

So I turned around and said to my 3 year old, "Honey?" And he said, "What, Mom?" And I was pausing because I didn't know how I was going to say what I was thinking about in "3 year old." And he says, "WHAT, MOM!??" a little louder because he's annoyed that I started talking to him and stopped. And so I said, "Honey, we are only here in this world for a very short time. Promise me you'll use that time to do something good."

Blank stare.

(What was I expecting, anyway? I think I just wanted to hear myself say that. Besides, I have a tendency to tell them things that are a little above their level of comprehension. To say the least.)

And then he says to me, "Mom, when I get to school, I'll push..." (and here's where I start thinking, "Please don't say "'push my brother or another child '- please don't say 'push my brother or another child'" ) but that's not what he finished with thank goodness. Instead he finishes this way: "Mom, when I get to school, I'll push in all the chairs at the table."

And I got all teary-eyed.

And I said, "Honey, that's wonderful. You will do that and your teachers will be proud and thankful."

And he smiled really big.

Because those are the kinds of things you do as a 3 year old. You don't quite know yet the scope of the problems in this world. You just know about the scope of the problems in your world. And at that moment, the problem that existed in his world that he wanted to fix was the problem of chairs in his classroom being left out.

And I just wanted to cry. How thoughtful! In his own way, even if I am making it up in my head, he seemed to get what I meant. He told me something he would do that is responsible, that other people would appreciate, and that he could take pride in, himself. In "3 year old," that's pretty good.

* * *

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Thursday

The Great Clock Experiment Part II

It's working!! My gosh it's working!!

Earlier this week, a grumpy zombie "me" went out to buy an alarm clock with fun ambient sounds so my 3 year old would know when to get out of bed, instead of waking the whole house up at 4 a.m.

Since he's been waking up at 4 and 5 a.m., I set the "rainforest" to come on at 6:30, so that if he was up and he was playing in his room, it wouldn't completely feel like forever. He came out at 6:31 proclaiming, "I heard the music! I heard the music!" Now, I have no idea if he actually got up at 6:30 or if he was playing in his room for a while, but the point is, he stayed in there!

Victory!!

The second day, we set it to 6:45 (15 extra minutes of sleep, whooo-eeee!!) He came in at 6:46 proclaiming, "I heard the music! I heard the music!"

The third day, we set it to 6:45 again. This time the music actually woke him up! And he was mad about it! "Mommy, can you buy a longer clock? Because the sun's not up yet and it woke me up." HURRAH!

So we're going to try 7 a.m. tomorrow. That's like the holy grail. Oh if "past-me" could just see me now. If "present me" could go back and tell "past-me" that I actually wake up before 7 every morning, "past-me" would never believe me.

But here is the biggest benefit of said alarm clock experiment. He didn't really know what time it was before, so now he has this little bit of empowerment. He now has the knowledge that if he wakes up at 4 a.m. and the "sounds" aren't on, it's not time. Which means he doesn't get out of bed, come into our room, interact with a grumpy one of us who marches him back to his room and tells him to wait for this unknown amount of time. And he doesn't get frustrated thinking time is up when it really isn't (5 minutes later) and do this every 15 minutes until 7.

In fact, when he wakes up, he's so excited he waited until the music came on and feels like he accomplished something! And in return, everyone is actually happy to see each other in the morning! There are no hard feelings, no one's frustrated, it's like the rainbows are shining and the birds are chirping!

Why didn't I do this before?

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Monday

The Great Alarm Clock Experiment

As I began this post, my eyes were swirly and there were little birds flying around my head and I had a headache.

I had been up since 4 a.m.

Because I have an early riser in the form of a 3 1/2 year old and if he's up, the whole house is up.

BECAUSE HE CANNOT CONTROL THE VOLUME OF HIS VOICE!!!!!

I don't actually think I woke up at all yesterday. I think I was sleep-shopping, sleep-driving, and sleep-cooking. Sleep-picking-them-up-from-school, sleep-eating, sleep-Twittering, sleep-cleaning. A shower didn't help. No amount of coffee helped. I was quickly reminded of how much I enjoy and need my precious sleep and how this is the one perk I looked forward to during both of my sons' newborn phases. Except that it's not a perk. Because I was up at 4 a.m.

So we decided to conduct a little experiment. The Great Alarm Clock Experiment of 0-10. In fact, I was going to write this post yesterday, but I was too much of a zombie and couldn't even form a sentence.

During my sleep-shopping, I went out and bought an alarm clock! With big digital numbers, and a projector that puts these big numbers up on the ceiling and that plays all sorts of fun ambient sounds. Because what I realized is that, really, how is he supposed to know when to get up? Except for the completely dark house and all the sleeping bodies (which should be obvious enough), I can yell at him to go back to his room when he comes in my room at 4 a.m., but he has no idea for how long he should stay. So it's only natural for a 3 1/2 year old to come back into our room 5 minutes later to check and see if it's time yet, because he has no idea how much time has passed. It must feel like forever in that tiny head! I admit that I do feel bad for that when I am of sound mind but when it's 4 in the morning, I can get a little testy about it!

No, he can't tell time yet. But he can understand that you stay in your room until the pretty sounds come on, right? Surely that makes sense. (Right?)

So we practiced at naptime. I told him to stay in his room until the sounds come on and he was so excited about his new clock and the cool numbers on his ceiling. He kept running in and turning his lights off and looking at the time on his ceiling. He doesn't know time but he does know numbers, so I told him that when the 1 turns to a 3, then the sounds would come on. He looked like he understood and then said something about aliens so then I wasn't so sure. But 3 o'clock magically came! And he stayed in his room until naptime was "over!"

But would he stay in there at bedtime? Oh please please please pretty pretty please, dear God, I can't take another sleepless night. I just can't. I don't function. I want to function.

Last night I set the alarm clock on "Rainforest" (he chose it) for 6:30 a.m. At 6:28 I woke up magically and felt like I did when the baby had a 4-5 hour stretch of sleep. You know, sort of panicky and excited at the same time. And at 6:31, my door opened, and a happy little boy came in and exclaimed, "Mommy!! I stayed in my room until the music came on!!" And I was joyfully and blissfully happy!! Oh please don't be a fluke. Please say we are geniuses and have found the answer! Pretty please. I'm not above begging. I don't know who I'm begging but I'm hoping someone's listening!

So there you have it. One night of sleep and a very happy mommy typing away, already coffeed and showered and waiting for another round of experimentation.

I'll let you know how it goes. I am definitely setting it for 6:45 tomorrow. I bet he won't even know! (Am I flying too close to the sun?)

Have you had this experience??? What worked for you?? Please share! Because if this turns out not to work, I might die.
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Tuesday

Well now what do I do.

Well now both of my little mens are in preschool. Today was the day.

My two-year-old had his very first day of "school."

I walked them up to the door where their teacher greeted us and they both took off, without so much as a look back at this old Mommy.

Even the teacher had moved on to the other students who were arriving, so I was just kind of standing there, off to the side, a little perplexed as to what to do now. And I shrugged, laughed along with some of the other parents who noticed it, got into my car and drove away.

So, that's that, huh?

We're there. Two and a half hours A DAY ~~all to ME!~~

Honestly, the part of this that gives me some time each day to do things by myself is a little exciting. When all of your moments are consumed by at least one little being, while cramming all things into tiny windows of when your children are (hopefully) the best behaved, it's a little daunting to all of a sudden have this window, alone.

But that doesn't seem to help the pit in my stomach that means that time is flying by fast again, so fast that my hair's on fire.

They're growing up.

I still call him the "baby."

Oh who am I kidding, they'll both always be that.

Looks like life is changing again, even if just a tad.

I do still have that big pit in my stomach. But I won't lie. The prospect of driving away and going to Starbucks to stare off into space for 2 1/2 hours doesn't sound half bad.

* * *

I'm over Here today at MomActive, come visit me!

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Wednesday

Don't Mind Me

Don't mind me.

I'm here. Kind of.

See because what's been happening is that I get all these ideas for posts and even write them down on here or in my trusty pink notebook or the back of whatever receipt is nearest to me and then I get my kids off to bed, grab my coffee, sit down to write, and then play the game called, "Go back to bed. It's still naptime."

It goes like this:

"Goodnight, I love you!"
(A very happy and comforting silence and me going to sit down and opening laptop.)
(Followed by sound of door opening.)
Sigh.
"What's wrong? It's naptime."
"No! I have to poop!"
"OK, poop, then go back to bed."
"No! Take my shirt off!"
"OK."
(take shirt off.)
"Close the door!"
"Can we say 'please'?"
"Peez, close the door!"
(Closing door.)
(Faint sound of singing coming from the bathroom followed by flushing and the 10 minute ritual of using too much soap and water for hand-washing.)
"I'm done! I'm done!" (three-year-old prancing around naked and proud, with some galloping.)
"OK, great job!! Now put your nakey butt back in your undies, sillyman, and go back to bed."
(the process of reclothing child taking forever.)
"OK, goodnight! No more getting out of bed! I love you." (kiss.)
(Sit down, open laptop. Actually thinking my window of peace is opening.)
(door opens.)
Silly me.
"Can I have water?"
"OK, you can have a sip of water then back to bed."
(Longest drink of water ever.)
"OK, goodnight sweetie, this time it's really naptime. Stay in your bed. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mommy."
"OK, goodnight." (I say a lot of "OKs")
(Sit down, put laptop on lap, take sip of coffee)
(door opens.)
"I'm scared!"
(sigh.)
"What are you scared of?"
"My room! There are noises!"
"Noises can't hurt you. They're just noises. They go away quickly."
"Are they mad?"
"No. Noises don't have feelings. They're just noises."
"Why?"
(crickets.)
"Good night, honey. I'm right out there in the other room. I talked to Santa and he said you have the coolest room in the world and that there's nothing to be afraid of."
"Is he here?"
"No, not yet."
"How does he know?"
(Why did I say that.)
"Word gets around. Anyway, goodnight!"
(Sitting down, laptop on lap again, commencing routine of web browsing and readings before delving into creative pool of writery.)
"Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
(Great. The other one's up now.)
(Door opens.)
"He's too loud, Mommy!"
"Is my nap done?"
"Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Yep. I guess so.
So much for writing.

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Monday

Little Mans

Happy birthday to my little man!

You're turning two. I just can't believe it.

Even at three-months old you had that look on your face like you knew what was going on with your crazycute smile. Your personality is infectious.

You dance to the beat of your own drum.

You nurture and care for everything and everyone around you.

Including me.

Happy Birthday, my little man. I hope you had a great day.

Sure looks like you did.

I love you.
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psst. Mantra Monday to return next Monday.

Tuesday

Questions from Domesticadia

Motherhood and a permanent residence in Domestic-adia raises more questions than answers. And I almost never ever feel like I know what I'm doing. (Do you have this problem?)

Among the questions I've asked this week are:

1. What happens if a child eats cat poo? (Don't ask.)
2. What is the difference in symptoms between the stomach bug my other son had last week and what happens after eating cat poo? (Updated: Whatever it was, it's gone now.)
3. If the stuffed animals are a casualty of said result of the above, can they be washed in the washing machine, even if it says not to?
4. What will happen to them? (Update: Best friend talked me into playing "stuffed animal roulette". Whoever makes it out of the washer alive gets to stay. And I have to tell you, a little of myself went in the washer with them. I was really worried and found myself really pulling for them. THANK GOODNESS! THEY MADE IT! All of them! George, Winnie the Pooh, Baby Bear and Elmo, guess what? You get to stay!
5. Now. If you wash them in the washer, does it follow too that you can dry them in the dryer?
6. What will happen to them? (Update #2: Yes! I used the "almost no heat" option. They are clean, germ-free, and surrounding my son on the couch as we speak.)

OK. New round of questions.

7. Is it weird if I buy a bottle of wine with a coupon?
8. Isn't it weird that coupons for wine exist?
9. Is it weird for me to buy a Twilight Edward doll?
10. What if it's for myself?
11. What is the difference between roasting a turkey in one of those slow roaster things that are on sale at Target and K-Mart instead of roasting it in the oven? Is it a skin crispyness issue?
12. Where are my hair ties and camera chargers?
13. How did I allow my e-mail inbox to hit 5000?
14. Should I throw a party? That's a pretty big milestone.
15. Do I have A.D.D. or do I just have an uncanny ability to multitask? Because I have been bouncing from this post to the one I started previously, and in between I'm doing laundry and cutting coupons (while wondering also why my favorite craft store even bothers offering 55% off "custom framing" because it still costs at least $150 every time I have them "custom frame" something.)
16. How much caffeine is too much?
17. Didn't I read somewhere that you should NOT pay attention to tantrums and they will eventually stop throwing them?
18. Why haven't they stopped?
19. Should I stop before I get to 20 questions?
20. Nahhh.... Why do I put on children's programming only to have them walk away, leaving me stuck watching Curious George or Martha? Like right now?...

PS. This is exhausting.

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Sunday

The Music Truck

I caught myself humbugging the Ice Cream man today.

I look at him so much differently now that I have toddlers.

I heard him driving through our neighborhood exactly 5 minutes into naptime and cursed him under my breath.

"Damn Ice Cream Truck!"

I felt bad sounding so bitter. But I can't help it! I knew what was going to happen! I had just settled into a peaceful house, that is, until I heard the faintness of the music and knew it was going to be over. Because my three year old was going to run out of bed and run to the window to listen to the Music Truck go by. And that would be it. Naptime over.

Yes, around here we call it a "music truck". My 3 and almost-two-year-old still believe it's just a truck that drives around playing music. They haven't a clue it also serves ice cream (and how absurd it would be that a truck would drive around for the sole purpose of playing circus music). But I am going to keep it that way as long as possible until the jig is up. But for now it's not, so it's a "music truck."

But the music truck always comes exactly 5 minutes into naptime and then again about 30 minutes after the kids have gone to bed.

So that my children hear it, wake up, want to go see it and then do not want to return to bed. Because all they want to do is listen to the music while it drives around our neighborhood, and the neighborhood next to us and the one behind us and the one over there, where the music is still faint, but a little three-year-old's ears can still hear it. He will listen until it has completely disappeared and gone away and if ears could squint, that's what he'd be doing just to listen until its very last second.

I realize that after lunch around 1, and after dinner between 7 and 8 p.m. might be a better time for the Ice Cream Man to, perhaps, sell some ice-cream and I sympathize with the fact that he's a business on wheels in probably a very difficult economy for ice cream trucks and probably even more difficult as it'll be cold out soon and no one will want ice cream because they'll be busy drinking hot chocolate, but still. These times really don't work for me. And forget about it when the kids realize it serves ice cream!

And when I see you at the park at whatever event my city is throwing, I have to physically hold my legs to keep them from walking over to you and yelling at you for driving by my house after naptime and bedtime because I already have to get up and lead my son back to bed a hundredty times a night and that other few just because of the music truck makes me a very special kind of crazy. The kind of crazy where you think you have a hold on things and then some unnecessary disruption in the force happens to make it so that you, indeed, do not have a hold on things.

!!!!!!

(Pulling hair out!)

I remember in my 20's I had a party at my apartment and the parents of a toddler came to my door and knocked and asked us to be quiet. And we didn't. Because we ruled the world. And they came up again and pleaded, because their toddler couldn't sleep. ~~And then they called the police.~~

I so get that now. This may, indeed, be a musical karma driving around.

When I have to lay in my toddler's bed on a random Friday night in which there is no holiday whatsoever but for some reason there are fireworks and it sounds like World War Two outside and I have to snuggle with him until it's over while we listen to it, I get it. Loud cars with their radios pumping and the bass thumping, driving by my house waking up my kids. Believe me, I get it now. Unusually early landscapers... Oh yes. I get it now.

And I'm so sorry, parents of toddler, for being such a jerk. I promise, I really do get it now. So much so that I actually curse the sweet little innocent Ice Cream man and his tiny circus-song-playing truck.

But Ice Cream Man, if you're reading this, do you understand why I might be annoyed? Yes? So could you just do me a favor and skip our neighborhood for, oh, the next 6-8 years? It's mostly old people anyway! And they don't really like ice cream from ice cream trucks anymore. I never ever see the old people lining up outside waiting for the Ice Cream Truck. So, head over back to the park where all the kids are and where you can hang out and play music at all times of day and night. Thank you. I appreciate it.

And have a nice day!

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Tuesday

Rescue 911: Curious George Edition

The boy's a champ.

Runs for the potty, barfs up a lung and hops onto his motorcycle and zooms around the house like nothing even happened.

He's been doing this for almost a week now, and though it does appear to be getting better, we're staying home again today just in case (and yes, husband has saved the day and is taking a 1/2 day so I can go to the NICU baby shower, how awesome is he?! Love! More on that later...)

Meantime, I give you an episode of Rescue 911 at our house. (When you're indoors for a long time consecutively, these are the things you do.) (Ps. did you know my three-year-old was a firefighter?)

911: 911, what's your emergency?

Caller: Fend guck!
911: I'm sorry, I can't understand you. 'Friend guck?' Can you speak clearly? I can't understand you, sir.
Caller: FEND GUCK!
911: I still can't understand you, sir, can you speak into the phone?
Caller: (now crying) GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!
911: Standby sir, I'm getting our Supervising Baby Translator on the line with us to help me understand what you're saying.

911 Baby Translator: Sir, what's your emergency?

Caller: FEND GUCK! FEND GUUUUUCK!

911 Baby Translator: OK, you say you have a "Friend stuck?" Can you confirm that for me please?

Caller: Es. Guck. Fend guck.

911 Baby Translator: OK, where is your friend located, sir?

Caller: Imbed. (Urgent wailing now.)

911 Baby Translator: OK sir, try to remain calm. You say he's stuck in the bed? We are sending units out to help you. Please stay calm and stay on the line.

Caller: (Inaudible.)

911 Baby Translator: Sir what are you doing now? Is your friend responsive?

Caller: No. Fend OUT. Fend OUT!

911 Baby Translator: Sir, please DO NOT try to remove your friend by yourself. We have units enroute. If you move your friend, it could result in further injury. PLEASE DO NOT MOVE HIM.

Caller: (Wailing).

911 Baby Translator: OK our units are arriving. Please stand by while our units assist your friend. Please remain calm.

911 Baby Translator: Sir?

Caller: (grunt)

911 Baby Translator: OK, sir, I am told that the responding units will be using the jaws of life, so please remain calm, everything will be ok. Are you there?

Caller: (silence.)

Caller: (more silence)

911 Baby Translator: Sir?

Caller: IP IP OOORAY!

911 Baby Translator: Sounds like your friend is out and everything's going to be ok! Sir? Sir? Anyone there?

(Silence.)

Yep, and, that was that. Oh how they move on quickly. I wonder how George is doing. Think I should send flowers?

Saturday

Mommy, Where DO Babies Come From???

We ordered out last week for some Chinese food.

My son was sick, so he wasn't up for eating much. Except for, of course, the fortune cookie. And I have a pretty liberal "sick" policy around here; pretty much anything goes (especially when they are struggling to keep anything down). So fortune cookie you want? Fortune cookie you get.

He opens it up and wants me to read the tiny paper.

It says something about a drunk man's fortune or something like that and since I'm really not up for explaining "drunk" to a three-year-old, I need to think quickly. Motherhood is perfect training for Jeopardy by the way.

I hold up the paper and say, "Um, Superheroes are wise and kind." Yeah. That's it.

Sometimes I surprise even myself.

This look washes over his face like I have just paid him the biggest compliment in the world, he can't even comprehend this statement or wrap his mind around it or contain himself. His eyes get real big and a smile literally bursts forth and he is now gleaming. Because of course, he is a superhero and this fortune is exactly about him. It is for him. He's usually Batman, but a superhero nonetheless and the fortune cookie was about him. And he repeats the fortune over and over again. "Wise and kind, Mommy!" "Wise and kind!" Gosh I'm great.

Now, "kind" he knows. But wise is a little different. I had to explain "wise." And it was almost easy because we had already been talking about "smart" and "brain" earlier in the day.

Because the questions have been rolling in. I thought I was at least a year out from this by they way, but they're coming in fast, one after another, I barely have time to answer them before he's on to the next one. Earlier that day, he wanted to know how his brain worked.

So I said that the brain contains lots of answers and it always wants to know more answers. I asked him questions as an example. "What's that color?" He said, "Red." I said, "See? Your brain had the answer and told your mouth to say it. What are we sitting on?" (Don't say 'brain'.) "The couch," he says. "That's right. Your brain knew that too!" I could see in his face that on some three-year-old level, he was getting it.

Well now I've created a monster because when he realizes his brain doesn't know something, he realizes he needs to give it all the answers and now it seems like his brain won't stop telling his mouth to ask questions!

"How does a frog jump, Mommy?" (He uses his legs.) "How does a car go?" (It uses its wheels.) "But how?" (It has a motor that makes the wheels spin.) "But how?" (It eats gasoline that makes the motor run which makes the wheels spin.) "Why does the fan spin, Mommy?" (It uses electricity from the wires that come in through the top of the fan.) "How?" All of our houses are connected by wires and electricity is in the wires and the electricity in the wires turns the fan on, the lights on, the tv on, all of that."

Blank stare.

Sometimes I think it's funny to overexplain things to see what his reaction is.

On the flip side, there are times where I wish to completely underexplain as much as I can. Like, that particular question that we mothers are not quite ready for once it is asked. You know the one.

You think you have plenty of time to drum up some genius, but no. It comes out when you least expect it. The one and only. THE question.

"Mommy, how do you have a baby?" Or "Where does the baby come from?" Or "How does it get there?" Or "How does it come out?"

He's three-and-a-half. I so wasn't ready for this.

They all came rapidfire, too, one after the other.

And as I began to sift through the questions, I answered each one, thoughtfully divulging just enough information but refraining from too much. I was almost even proud! I was on a roll!

But by the third question, it turned into my mouth answering questions and my mind turning to look at my mouth, saying, "What are you saying TURNIT OFF!" I could feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into the big ol' hole I was digging for myself and there was nothing I could do. By the end, there was something to do with God having a magic wand and pointing it at my belly and saying "Alacabam!"

Oh boy.

(He's three-and-a-half, he'll forget this by naptime, right?)

I embarrass even myself sometimes. And really, come on. I'm a creative girl. That's the best I could come up with? God has a magic wand?

Sigh.

I swear it all started off so well! I thought I was acing this!

By the end I wanted to turn and run.

And maybe say something supergenius like, "Let's ask your father when he gets home." Which, let's face it would probably go straight back to me in the end anyway.

I hope I have a chance to start over and re-splain. But for now I'll ask you. He's three-and-a-half and I'm interested in the less is more philosophy. While also being somewhat honest. (This sounds like a Craigs List ad). Actually, I would like to say the exact opposite of what I've already said so far. So. Help a mama out. Any tips?

PS. We opened up a second fortune cookie the next day, one that was left over. It said, "Eat your vegetable and you'll grow up big and strong like Popeye."

I swear. I'm not even making that one up.

Thank you, dear fortune cookie people. Thank you.

* * *

I'm over at Shrinking Jeans today too, giving away a pair of running pants from One More Mile! Contest ends today!

Tuesday

Just Sitting Here Drinking a Juice Box

I just opened the fridge and thought, with the day I've had, I could really use some Motts for Tots.

Nothin' like a nice, cool, Fruit Punch Motts for Tots juice box to wash your worries away.

I was going to begin the day's post with this:

Someone or someone-times-two got a hold of chalk and made my coffee table a chalkboard.

Nice.

Not a big deal.

Except for the scratches. Sweet.

Hang on. I'm gettin to the bottom of my juice box and the straw won't get it all and I'm having to slurp. This could take a second.

Boy there really isn't a lot of juice in this thing.

Anyhoo. I tried to take a picture of the chalk but my camera battery was dead. So I left the chalk sitting there on the table until the battery charged nice and good and I could take a picture of it.

Somewhere in between the chalk and now, I dropped my son off at school and went to Home Depot to procure some fall gardening supplies. I'm batting about a 50-50 in sustaining plant life now, I guess now is as good a time as ever to bring that up.

I'm known as the Grim Reaper of plants.

My husband says the plants in the garden sections cower when I walk in.

He calls my hanging baskets, "hanging CASKETS".

I guess he wonders why I kill them and keep buying them, because I am a gardening failure. I guess each time I get more plants, it is with a renewed hope and faith within myself that I will turn my inner gardener around.

But he's probably right. Either I should hire a gardener (after we hit Power Ball) or just buy some pretty stones.

Because I'm real good at buying plants and planting plants and watering them. For about the first week. Then I walk by them and think "uh oh, I really should water that guy, he's looking a little sad." And then I don't. And eventually my son brings it up. "Mommy, why is he sad?" And then I feel bad. So today, one of my projects was to nurse two hanging plants back to life by repotting them. The two very same that are flowery and leafy in this picture right here.

Unfortunately they do not look like that anymore.

In fact, looking at how beautiful they once were made me feel like a big giant jerk just now.

Hang on. Finishing the juice box. May have to crack open another.

Well, the soil on my poor plants was all old anyway because even when I'd try to water it, the water would go straight through the pot and right out, so what I really needed to do was repot them. And this is a pretty big deal. Normally they'd die before I get a chance to repot them. So we're getting somewhere.

See? I'm working on it.

But as I'm wandering out of Home Depot with Mini, I get to the car and the car won't start.

And as luck would have it, I forgot to plug in my cell phone last night and there was barely a charge.

Batting 0 in the battery department today.

I eeked out a call to AAA and the fine gentleman was there to rescue me within 15 minutes and my husband was quick to respond as well. Oh it's nice being a damsel in distress once in a while! Husband and AAA guy to the rescue!!

The AAA guy put in a new battery and I was on my way. I put my phone on my charger and now it's fulla juice. Kinda like me, come to think of it. And my camera is charged. Gosh life stinks when nothing's charged.

Piece of advice: if phone is not charged, don't forget car charger. However, car charger won't work if battery is dead anyway, so just make sure phone is charged.

Mini and I gardened for the rest of the morning, nursing my plants back to life and putting up some belatedly fall decorations and remulching. When my other son got home, we finished up the gardening and by we I mean me, in between chasing them back to our yard from our neighbors or from the street or breaking up fights over who gets to ride the tricycle or use the bubble mower or wear the helmet. They probably both should be wearing helmets at all times, who are we kidding.

Ps. Is it bad for kids to dig into Miracle Grow potting soil? Don't answer that.

So now I'm sitting here drinking a juice box and the kids are in bed after taking long hot baths because we were all hot messes from the dirt and fertilizer.

Off for more juice now, and a shower. Good day.

* * *

We're sharing birth stories and pictures for the virtual babyshower! Click here to read and share, one lucky sharer gets a "Serenity Now" gift package! Not a mommy? Share any story and or picture of a family member/friend! Link it up, you have till Thursday!!

The winner of a necklace from my Etsy shop is Mendie at The Little Ladybug That Could! Go browse around and e-mail me your choice and your snail mail! (christieo_7 at msn.com)

Wednesday

Toothbrush Song

The Toothbrush Song

(to the tune of the ABC song)

(and as referred to in yesterday's post).

Lyrics by Christie O.

A-B-C-D-E-F-G!

This is how we brush our teeth.

Front to back and side to siiiiiiiide.......

TOOTHBRUSH ON A WILD RIIIIDE!!!

A-B-C-D-E-F-G,

This is how we brush our teeth!

(Helpful hint: You really gotta draw out the "side" and "ride" in the song if you want to sing it right.)

Use as necessary. rinse and repeat. the end.

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