Ism’s

I lied, I am not consistent enough to do a mini-post series, although this will be brief as well.  A plethora of funny things are coming out of K’s mouth now that he’s talking so very much.  For those of you who have heard him talk lately, you’ll know that K sounds slightly robotic in how he laces words together, and his cadence is a little high.  Which makes it a little more funny, for me anyway.  Cheers.

After I told him I put his initials on his stuffed Elmo so he doesn’t lose it at daycare: “wow, that’s perfect!”

And again, four days later, after I told him we could go read stories after we brushed his teeth: “yes…perfect.”  (the word “perfect” to me sounds like such a grown-up word to have come out of a two year old’s mouth)

When he was told not to pick his nose: “i eat mine boogers!”

When referencing anything that has happened in the past beyond today, it happened last weekend.  “i see grampy mike last weekend!” (he didn’t.  it was last month).

After getting to see some of a movie with dinosaurs in it a while back, he keeps asking to watch movies.  I told him no, so he scrunched his eyes up so they were closed tight, pointed at his eye, and said: “i can see movie, in mine eyes!”  this is my personal favorite due to the accompanying photo:

He also likes to completely make things up that never happened.  This is especially funny because he will emphatically tell someone about something he did while i stand behind him quietly shaking my head no.

Having a small talking human being is infinitely amusing.

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The (second) First One

I have decided to do a series of mini-posts on things that I learn or re-learn about parenting while in Maine.  Today, on “things you should already know about parenting,” Ashley makes a discovery about bringing a two-and-a-half year old into an instrument store.

Pro tip #1: Don’t bring a toddler into a drum shop and somehow expect that they won’t want to touch everything in sight.

Pro tip #2: If you are brave enough to enter a drum shop with a toddler, make sure you have lots of energy that day for redirecting.

On a not completely unrelated note, sound-proof drum lesson rooms are great for subsequent temper tantrums when redirecting just isn’t cutting it.

He does make an awfully cute and enthusiastic little drummer boy, though 🙂

Talkabout

So, K has really exploded in the language department.  He’s speaking in full sentences, sometimes even full prepositional phrases, and has a solid vocabulary. It’s really quite amazing.  And now that he’s talking so much I’ve started paying attention to how his little voice sounds when he talks, and it’s truly adorable.  Mostly because so much of what he says is stated with an upward inflection.

Well, the newest phrase that has been added to his little repertoire is “I need.”  Since getting the hang of the difference between “I need,” “I want,” and I would like” is fairly challenging, he often sticks with the simple “I need” as a blanket statement for all.  The result is that he frequently “needs” unnecessary things.  Needs a cookie monster, needs grapes, needs running shoes, needs the guitar any time I pick it up and try to play in front of him.  Needs just about everything.

Here is a little piece of my morning yesterday:

8:00am, in the kitchen, Keiran is sitting on the floor reading a little book.  K: “Mama, Missey Mouse (Mickey Mouse) has sweet treat in his mouf.”  (sweet treat is a blanket term for any type of sweets).  Me: “Does he really?”  K: pointing to his mouth, “I need sweet treat in mine mouf!”

Right now, instead of saying “my,” K says “mine.”  Insert that into any sentence using the possessive, and it becomes pretty German-sounding (and hilarious).  He also says “yous” instead of “yours.”  Have fun substituting that in a sentence.

Continuing on, he goes off and plays for a minute after loudly declaring his need for sweet treats, and I start to make breakfast.  He’s decided he’s actually hungry now, and comes back in the kitchen around 8:30 while I’m finishing cooking:

“I need oasmeal and wiiiamins!” (oatmeal and vitamins)

“I’m making eggs for breakfast, love.”

“I need…this!” Pulls Chex out of the pantry.

“No love, I’m making eggs.”

Pulls out triscuts: “I need one, these!”

“K, no.  Please put them back.”

“I…I need this!”  Pulls out Cheerios.

“K, no.”

“I need cashews!!!”

I couldn’t contain my composure any more after the emphatic request for cashews, it was too funny.  But also getting messy because he kept pulling food out of the pantry.  So I told him that he “needed” to come out of the pantry and shut the door.  The rest of breakfast was spent telling me about all of the things he needs.  By the end of breakfast, I needed a nap.

It must be so hard living inside the head of a two-year-old.  Do you think it’s like living in a pinball machine?  You’d have thought he had to wait 12 days for breakfast.

The Educational One

What, you say, two posts in a row??  Are you a machine or something?  Why yes I am, thank you for noticing.

I am a fan of making attempts to learn from less-than-awesome experiences, and there were many things I learned over the course of the weekend.  I thought others might benefit from the knowledge I have recently acquired.  Cheers.

1. You should not keep a gas can in the trunk of your car.

If you are lazy enough (and/or busy enough) as I unfortunately was to literally drive you car to the point where it dies due to lack of fuel, by all means, feel free to walk yourself (or if you’re lucky enough to have someone come get you, drive, since it’s cold out) to the nearest Stewart’s and purchase an over-priced gas can to fill with approximately enough gas to get you to another Stewart’s where you will proceed to again pay too much to fill your gas tank.  But at least your car won’t be dead.  ‘Cause again, it’s cold out, and no one wants to be walking about amidst the “polar vortex.”

If you manage to leave some gas in the bottom of your $13 can, you should not leave it in the trunk where you originally stashed it once you finally get home, lest you spill gasoline all over the trunk of your car 3-5 days later taking a sharp turn.  For the love of god, just take the can out of the trunk.

2. If you do decide to leave said gas can in your trunk, you should not also have your favorite blanket since 8th grade in the trunk with it.  Or for that matter, anything really that you care enough about to not want doused in gasoline.

I think that line pretty much explains itself.

3. If you smell gasoline in your car while driving (knowing you have been lazy enough to leave the can in the trunk), you should probably remove the can immediately rather than waiting several days, unless you enjoy headaches.

“Huh, why does my car smell like that?  It’s probably nothing.”  Then, later that day:  “Wow I sure have been getting a lot of headaches lately.  And I’m kinda nauseous.  I’m sure it’s nothing.”  No, it is something.  It’s that ridiculous cubic-foot hunk of plastic emanating fumes throughout every crevice of your vehicle, and solving the problem is fairly simple.

4.  Upon discovering your favorite blanket has been saturated in gasoline once you finally do get around to taking the can out of the bloody trunk, you should not proceed to put said blanket in your washer.

You know where this is going.  For anyone wondering, it takes approximately 8 hot cycles with detergent and oxyclean to remove the smell of gasoline from the inside of your washer.  And incidentally, close to that many washes even to get the smell out of your blanket.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I am a brilliant human being.  So, dear readers, remember this advice if you find yourself in a similar predicament.  And if nothing else, just don’t put the blanket in the washer.

Catharsis

So as most of you know, I work at a youth shelter.

Part of my responsibility as shelter staff is to share in the on-call rotation.  For the most part it’s not really that bad.  This week, however (and the weekend in more concentrated form), was a total nightmare.  It was non-stop, and so naturally by this morning, I was just about elated to be passing off the phone.

Why, you ask, did you title your blogpost “catharsis” then?  I will tell you.  Because last night, I had the most fantastic dream about taking a hammer to the on-call phone.  It was kind of like Office Space except somehow even better, because though our fax machine/printer really doesn’t like to cooperate much of the time, it doesn’t follow me home at night like the dreaded phone.  I smashed that phone into oblivion, and afterward I had a drink to celebrate.

And then at 7:00am, I awoke to the sound of a phone ringing.  Endorphin rush suspended, I went back to the unfortunate reality that the on-call phone was in fact, alive and well.

Sigh…

a not so glamorous confession

I try to be pretty patient as a parent.  I know kids are kids and sometimes they will make messes, and have tantrums, and be generally tough some days.  There is something about the age of 2 though, that I have to admit I really don’t know what to do with all the time.

Some days, I am not as patient as I would like, and I find myself feeling bad about it.  I have to remind myself that if we are a few minutes late for something because he wanted to stop on the way down the stairs to point out the squirrels and a plane, it really isn’t the end of the world.  or if we are in a store and he takes a couple minutes to ooh and ahh over something on a shelf, that maybe I should just stop and do it with him.

He won’t be this little forever, so I should probably enjoy it even when I am feeling inconvenienced; I realize this is probably not the romantic way of saying it, but it is what the frustration that comes during rushing around can be boiled down to.

I am fairly guilty of not taking a deep breath and relaxing a little when he’s thrown peas on the floor for the 15th time.  And I haven’t always been that way!  I used to find it infinitely easier to roll with things when he was a little smaller.  Maybe it’s the simultaneous exercising of independence/strong will that makes some of this harder?  I’m not sure.

But there are some days where it seems like one or both of us may have gone ’round the bend.

I keep seeing these funny little articles popping up lately about being the parent of a toddler.  Most of it is boiled down to a simple message: 2-3 year olds are freaking hard, and sometimes at the end of the day an early bedtime and a glass of wine for mommy is what is going to keep everyone sane.  I usually giggle a little at these writings and then move on, but perhaps I should be granting them a little more weight.

If I do, maybe it will serve as a reminder to practice a little more patience in moments where I’m not sure how much patience I have left (hyperbole, anyone?).

I am not really into “doing” new years resolutions, however I have decided that when it comes to K, I am going to try to be in a little less of a rush all the time and try to enjoy the toddler crazy a little more.

Maybe I’ll find that I’m a little less tired and a little more easy-going that way.

A Brief Letter to Santa (as dictated by K)

Dear Santa,

It has recently come to my attention by way of mom that it’s that time of year again, and you will be needing a wish list from me.

Before I expend the energy required for this, a brief query for you:

If you know when I’ve been sleeping, when I’ve been awake, and whether I’ve been bad or good throughout the year, how do you not possess the observational skills necessary to already know what I want for Christmas?

I think perhaps there has been a slight misrepresentation of the scope of your practice/ability.  Please help me to understand.

Anxiously awaiting your reply,

K.