Encouragement

We are trying to potty train Cooper.

We are failing at potty training Cooper.

When your first child potty trains herself, with minimal encouragement from yourself, it sets you up for disappointment with child number two.

Cooper must have been feeling my discouragement this morning when I asked him if he would go sit on the potty and he in no uncertain terms told me no.

So, in his super sweet way, he tried to encourage me with the following.

"Mom, me no go poopoo in da pawee. My like poopoo in my pans. My like peepee in my pans. No poopoo peepee in da pawee. My like poopoo in my pans."

Wow, this whole potty training thing is going to work out just fine....

AAAGH!

Today a squirrel came into my house.

Wow.

I almost died of fright.

That is one gutsy little squirrel.

*Brandon would like me to clarify that the squirrel didn't actually crawl up my pants. He thought the video could cause you to be confused as to what really took place. To recap: squirrel came into my house (but not up my pant leg), I freaked out, squirrel ran away, I locked the door. (Just incase squirrels had become highly efficient at breaking and entering) So, rest assured, I did not in fact have squirrels in my pants. It's just a funny song - with wicked dance moves.

I think my men are handsome, don't you?

I had to whip out my mad haircutting skills last night to trim up my scraggly men. I know, I'm practically amazing... Really, my haircutting skills are deplorable, it's a good thing you can't tell from this picture.

There once was a little boy who believed he was a pirate...

and his imaginings made his mommy very happy.

This little boy might not have fully understood exactly what a pirate really was, nor what one really did, but he was pirate through and through.

And so, his family affectionately called him "pirate boy"

And he was cute.
Very cute, with a goofy face.

(and inventive. Notice his hook imagined from a paint roller...)

{frowny face}

Little baby boy has a very bad case of the grouchies.

He seems to think his entire world should revolve around his every whim. Unfortunately, his entire world can't seem to figure out what his every whim might be.

It's making for a very loud and messy morning.

He completely obliterated a biscuit this morning that didn't meet his expectations

(not sure what he wanted in exchange, but it definitely wasn't that poor biscuit.)

This child has a temper.

wow

What happened to my sweet little Landon?

I hope he comes back soon, his mommy misses him. The little gremlin that took his place is far too demanding.

(and moody)

Turning Green

My favorite thing about being a mom who doesn't do throw-up:

is that when my sick son throws-up on his bed...

and I have to clean it up...

he stays by my side giving a very accurate re-enactment of the events that transpired.

Complete with sound effects.

This is Cooper, right now:

"Me throwed-up - Ba-legh!"

Over and over again.

He really has the throw-up sound effect down.

It's been going on for the last 15 minutes. Every 30 seconds I hear "Me throwed-up. Ba-legh!"

(Like I needed the reminder.)

The sound effects alone are about to make me "throwed-up"

Trying to sound out how one would spell "ba-legh" made me gag.

A Thief Among Us

Late last night Brandon was enjoying some jellybeans in bed when a little boy named Cooper came padding into our bedroom.

He immediately made his way over to his daddy's side of the bed,

scooped up all the jelly beans off his nightstand,

and then proceeded to pop them,

one by one,

into his mouth.

When he had finished the last of the jelly beans, he turned to his father and stated, matter-of-factly,

"your jelly beans are all gone."

and then he turned on his heels and sauntered out of the room.

Brandon is still traumatized by the events. Apparently he had been saving the stolen beans for last because they were his favorite. I still can't stop laughing. It was hilarious. Out of the blue Cooper walks in our room, steals all his daddy's jelly beans, and then waltzes out.

That kid can hear candy a mile away.

Hippity, hoppity, Easter's on it's way....

At our house, we have the Easter Bunny visit us the day before Easter, on Bunny Day. That way we can use Sunday to concentrate more on the true meaning of Easter. (It's a little tradition I picked up from one of my high school friend's family)

So early this morning, my little ones woke up. Kameryn was hilarious, she had found the eggs, opened them up, looked at the candy, and then closed them up and put them right back where she had found them all before she came in to tell us she was awake.

Mommy is exhausted from all the festivities and there are still more to come. Enjoy ths batch of pics from this morning.

There are a lot, so stay with me.

Landon was making the best faces in all the pictures. Such a ham!

Kami with her "littlest petshop". She wanted these so bad she even asked me to e-mail the Easter Bunny to let him know.

Landon even found a couple of his own eggs.

Kami was so excited she may have been just loud enough to wake up her brother. He was a little tired as a result.

Cooper would find the eggs, crack them open, take out the candy, and then leave the remains. He was always so excited to find the big ones. "OOOH dat a BIG one! Aagh ha ha!"

Landon managed to find and open this egg all by himself. He couldn't, however, manage to get the candy out of it, so he just stuck the whole thing in his mouth.

The baskets, with the loot. Kami had littlest petshops, Cooper had golf clubs, and Landon got baby was, a baby toy and graham crackers (the boy loves graham crackers) Kami and Cooper also got bubble guns and chalk.



Brandon was particularly thrilled with this find. (For the beans, not the peeps)

YAY Landon!

The beginning of this week (March 31, 2009) Landon decided to start choosing walking as his preferred method of travel. He is 14 months old. His daddy is very proud. He's been working with him for weeks. Mommy is experience that odd mixture of pride and sorrow that only mothers are accustomed to.

He's so big.

Dumbo

Kameryn has a fascination with ears. The bigger your ears are, the bigger you are. So, having big ears is a big deal to her. I remember a trip home from the store where she burst into tears because I had mentioned Cooper ears were bigger than hers. (Which they are, the kid has big ears.) I didn't know at the time that she thought that because Cooper's ears were bigger that must mean that he was bigger than her and she was emphatically sure that he was not.

Today Cooper placed two bowls over his ears and Kami said

"Wow Cooper! Are those your big ears? You've growed up."

Now she has the bowls over her ears and is saying

"I'm a growed up. I'm a growed up."

Dear Family,

If you would come visit me, then you could compliment me on my new drapes.

I'm just saying...

(Although, Mom probably won't like them so she'll say "they look like you" - her cop-out phrase for saying "not my style". Dad will most likely say "why did you need drapes, you already had blinds." The boys wouldn't care, because boys don't care. And KeiLani, my new favorite would say " I like your new drapes Britt" That's why KeiLani would be my favorite...unless of course she didn't like them.)

...and this is why I win the ultimate klutz award:

It pains me to write these things people. To let you into the inner sanctum of my patheticness. But, when poor Kami is my age and being bombarded by the same level of physical pain and emotional embarrassment that I do every day, well, she's going to want reassurance that she's not alone.

I am so selfless it kills me.

Yesterday I was teaching piano lessons (as I do every Wednesday), and Kami wanted me to get her tea set down. Their toys are on the top shelf of their closet right now because their other shelves keep ripping out of the wall. (don't ask)

So, as I'm pulling down her tea set, the lid slips off the bucket and the very thin, very painful edge smacks me right in between the eyes; on the bridge of my nose.

Of course I start crying, and of course my piano student is waiting patiently on the piano bench. So, naturally I feign like I have to go to the bathroom so I can hide in there until my tears dry up. Which, of course, gives my injury the perfect amount of time to turn red and swell.

So, I taught the remainder of my piano lessons with a big red swollen bump on my nose, quite confident that at any moment I was going to have two big black eyes like a raccoon.

We have these storage bins from Ikea, in case you're curious. I highly recommend them. They are very sturdy, relatively inexpensive, very easy for the children to replace the lids, and very painful when they fall on you. Notice how the lid has very thin, painful looking edges... (they, of course, are not at all dangerous, unless you are me - naturally)

Moral of the story, I'm moving their toys to the ground level. I don't care if I have to pick them up 12 times as often, at least they won't be trying to kill me.

(Brandon kindly pointed out that, with my luck, I was likely to throw out my back if I moved the toys to the floor. I would probably trip over something and somersault to my doom. I appreciated his reassurance.)

Might I also mention that neither my husband nor my mother were the least bit surprised by the events that unfolded and they both had a hearty laugh at my expense.

It's a wonder I'm still friends with them.

(and yes, that might be a threat. Stop laughing at me. I have feelings.)

More humiliatingly painful stories: here and here. Believe me, I have more. But I still want to be cool. So I'm only giving you two.