The 7 Things I Hate About You..... Dubya's Turn

So, in the interest of fairness, I now present Dubya's version of the 7 things.... quirks, habits, annoyances, idiosyncrasies....

1. You change your clothes more often than Kate Moss during Fashion Week. It's not the fashion, so much. It's an itchy tag here, a sleeve too long there.... You make me need to buy stock in Tide.
2. You were born in 2003, which means you began to talk sometime in 2004. That's at least 5 years of hearing your voice - non-stop. You absolutely never stop talking. There should be a Guinness World Book entry for this, but I don't think there is.
3. All that talking? It's done at a decibel level that could rival a Metallica concert. When you try, you can break glass with that voice. When you're not trying, you're still loud. One day you will understand why I spend so much time playing the "Whisper Game."
4. You rarely spend an entire night in your own bed, which is probably the only reason you and your brother have managed to share a room this long. You always crawl in with Dad and me. And then you shove your icicle feet under various parts of me to warm them up. Talk about a rude awakening!
5. The icy feet belie the real you. Sleeping next to you is like sleeping under a moving electric blanket. Lately, I've been waking up in a sweat. I thought it was early menopause, but then I realized you were next to me each time. Of course, it might help if you did not wrap yourself around me in a full body nocturnal hug.
   
6. I am not allowed to throw anything away, especially anything your hands have touched. You actually dig through the trash to make sure no masterpiece has slipped through. My fridge is often covered with crumpled up Dubya artwork that you have rescued after it "accidentally" got in the trash. By the same token, I can only throw broken or old toys away when you are not home. The sound of clanking plastic alerts you to a possible infraction on my part. You are positively apoplectic at the thought of our impending garage sale.
7. And, lastly, you love to sing, but I am pretty sure you are tone deaf. You also love to dance, but I'm pretty sure you have your father's sense of rhythm, which means none at all. This is not particularly annoying, except when you try to play the drums on Guitar Hero. I am always reaching over with my hand and hitting a drum to the beat so that y'all don't get booed off the stage. I mean, I'm sure you're mine, but this trait definitely did not come from my side of the family.

Phew! I feel better. You are my crazy, funny child. My biggest challenge in many ways, and my sweetest reward. You have an incredible future ahead of you, Sweet Boy - but it's definitely not on American Idol! Love you, Mom

And the Winners Are.....

Well, despite all of my efforts, not every gift is always a home run. Some early favorites have emerged, however:

Toad seems to like both of his - the cool Sony iPod deck with the sub woofer. I knew he would like this because I already have one at home, and he picked it out himself. He also liked his Magic Bullet, and I look forward to "drinking his milkshake" soon.

Big D must be the only kid I know who gets books on Christmas and stops opening presents so he can sit down in the middle of the floor and start reading. He got the first 3 books in the Redwall series. He also loves all of his Playmobil Romans.



Dubya is super easy to please. He loves everything, but especially his Bendaroos. Since he had a "Very Lego Christmas," he's spent a lot of time building. He does a damn good job at this, considering he's only 5. He built the whole Lego Service Station basically on his own.

And, P3 loves everything. Right now she's cracking up at her Little People Theme Park. But she's also spent a lot of time pushing a dolly in a stroller and trying to ride her new trike. The My First Dollhouse has also been a big hit. The boys play with it, too, but don't tell anybody....

My sister in law called me yesterday to tell me that she was cleaning her wedding ring in the cleaner I gave her. She was a little dismayed at the color of the water, though, and decided that her ring was a lot dirtier than she thought. I may pick up one of these for myself - or maybe my sister can give hers back to me, since she already had one!
And, as for me, so far I've only tried out my new perfume, Ralph Lauren Notorious, which smells lovely - and Toad picked it out all by himself, which makes it so much better. He also got me my big huge Kitchen Aid mixer, which I haven't opened yet because I need to find the counter space. We have now almost replaced all of our kitchen appliances lost in Katrina - except for the electric carving knife we never used much anyway.

Well, I Survived....

But I'm not really sure how. It must be another Christmas miracle. I am so tired I can hardly see straight. Princess Poopie Pants is playing with a new doll house. Big D is playing Boom Blox on the Wii. And Dubya is busy building a Lego Service Station and raiding the kitchen for leftover cake.

Toad is at work listening to his new iPod speakers.

Must have been fun.

And, I am SO glad it's over. Now we can move on to prepping for my real favorite time of year, Mardi Gras and SPRING!

Is it too early to take down the tree? .....Just asking.

P3 Meets the Big Guy......

She's met him once before as a baby. But here she was at my sister's Christmas party. She was surprisingly unafraid this time and kept crawling back in his lap and asking for hugs. This, of course, makes me think she will go off with any creep in a red suit at any old time. The look on her face has more to do with all of the other people than Santa. There were a lot of ooohhhhs and aaaawwwws when she was there. This is because I am the only person in my family crazy enough to have such young children, so they dote on them. Theirs are all way too cool for Santa.
Dubya joined in, too. But Big D was busy playing football in the backyard, and I think he missed him altogether.

One More Day, Just One More Day.....

before this "week off" is over. While my kids are frequently cute and cuddly, they also bore easily. And, when they are off of school, that's what happens. And we all know who they look to for entertainment.... I am just not that entertaining, I confess. And, since someone at my husband's office is always taking a holiday week off, he works twice as long - usually out the door before they are up and back home after the toughest ones are in bed. This all adds up to a really tired and cranky me.

Monday, the big ones go back to school, and hubby is taking the week off. This would normally be great, except he is doing it to help out while I recover from surgery I am told is really painful. Yippee! The recovery time is supposed to be 2 weeks, but I have to make it in one, because that's all the time I could get some help.

As he assumes the role of Mr Mom, let's hope he is prepared to answer the following questions - over and over again....

The questions - as of 7:30 am

Is today a school day?
So I can wear whatever I want?
Can we go outside and play?
Do I have to take my medicine today?
Can I have some ice cream?
Can I have breakfast now?
Can I eat it upstairs?
Can I eat it in your room?
Is today Monday?
Does 20 go up to twenty-ten?
Can we have a sleepover for my birthday?
Can we go outside and play?
Can I ride my bike today?
Is Thanksgiving over?
Where are the scissors?
Why can't I have the scissors?
Is ten minutes longer than ten hours?
Can we go outside and play?

And, that's just in 40 minutes or so.... And only out of one kid, cause one doesn't really talk much and the other one is still asleep!

Patience, patience patience - I repeat this in my head over and over.

If It's Not One Thing, It's Her Brother......

So, last night was going along fairly normally. We spent the day hanging around, took in a little retail therapy at Target, where T had to pick up the latest expansion pack to World of Warcrack, had a late lunch at WOW, that sort of thing. A little later, Dubya was lying in my bed watching TV and he started to cough. He has some killer allergies, so this is not unusual. But then he starts screaming, "I threw up in your bed!" "Dad, I threw up in your bed!"

Of course you did, honey.

So, once again, I spent the evening washing sheets and towels. This time, however, the one throwing up had the werewithal to be able to do it in a bucket most of the time. Hooray for independent minded children. The bucket thing worked great until he actually went to bed. He fell asleep in 2.6 seconds as usual. And, then Big D comes out yelling, "Mom, Dubya threw up again! He's throwing up everywhere!" Big D has a flair for the dramatic, so luckily it was not "everywhere." It did, however, mean a whole other set of sheets to be washed, prompting me to mutter over and over, "sheet, son of beetch," which had T cracking up.

So, Dubya spent the night on the couch with the bucket next to him. He only erupted once more in the morning. He was just sick enough to stay home from school, but not sick enough to be quiet for more than 4 seconds all day. It also means I missed doing what I had promised I would help with in his classroom today. I am the worst. room. mom. ever.

He's fine now, but I am wiped out. And, all of our sheets are nice and clean. Sheet, son of beech.

What Happens When They Drive......

We have this thing called a "gator." It's a battery operated little John Deere 4 wheeler looking thing. My dad bought two to keep at his house when the boys were really little. They loved them then. When Daddy died, we took one and my brother took the other one. Well, his flooded in Katrina, but ours is still going. What's funny is that Dubya used to be the passenger and Big D was the driver. What a difference a couple of years can make......


But - not content to let anyone else drive her around, P3 decided she would take the wheel. She just doesn't know how to turn it yet.....

The neighbors all find this totally hysterical. Well, so do I, actually. This little baby driving this thing all over... She's nothing if not determined.

My Little Dubya.....

He's getting in so much trouble at school. We have tried one ADHD medication and the results were disastrous. But, he needs help. I know he wants to be good. It's like he doesn't know how. I am spread too thin and questioning my effectiveness as a parent. I just don't know what I am doing wrong. Am I doing anything wrong?

Yesterday he didn't go more than 30 seconds without talking to me. He cannot stop - ever. I adore him, and yet, he is driving me crazy. He is so full of love and joy, but he does nothing in moderation. He is loud and curious and creative and messy and lovable and frustrating and smart and infuriating. When people tell me that Baby J is just like him, it gives me chills because I know what's coming.

I always thought Dubya would have trouble in real school. I also always hoped I'd be wrong.