Mountain Dew Night

So, the other weekend my parents had agreed -or begged- to watch Chase overnight while I had a night out with some girl friends.  My Mom, Chase and I went out to Taco John's for dinner before my night of "whooping it up" (Ya, you're right, I can't really pull that off) began. I believe Taco Johns's was the perfect choice- because frankly, what two year old doesn't want to have a gallon of nacho cheese and a fist full of potato ole's for supper?  Well, Chase ate an entire box of fruit snacks (Dora ones of course) on our drive to my parent's house, so I figured he had already consumed his servings of fruit for the day, so he could have a dinner that was a little less nutritious.

While at dinner, Chase asked me for a drink of my pop- which of course was Mountain Dew.  I typically wouldn't have let my child guzzle down a 16 ounce cup of caffeinated Mountain Dew at 7pm, but since he wasn't going to be in my care for the evening, I thought this would be a great idea.  So guzzled he did.

I came- well stumbled- home at 3 am hoping to sneak down to the basement of my parents house, curl up into a ball and sleep blissfully until at least 7 am without anyone knowing I was even in the house. But my dream of sleeping in (or sleeping at all) was crushed when I walked into the house and saw my two year old, sitting straight up in bed waiting up for me as if I was a teenager who missed my curfew.  But not only was my child waiting up for me at 3 am, he was up for the day (Did you know that Barney is on at 3am?  And did you know that Barney is not any less annoying at 3am?), and I guess so was I.

Lesson Learned:  Do not teach your child how to bong Mountain Dew before bedtime unless you know for a fact that you are not sleeping in the same house as him.

 
On a side note: My mom told me that around midnight my child strolled into the living room where her and my dad were watching tv, crawled up into a rocking chair and nonchalantly asked, "So, what are you doing?"  Apparently caffeine does effect a 2 year old.  Who would have guessed?  Certainly, not me.

Perkins

On Friday, Cory, Chase and I went to Perkins for dinner.  I shouldn't expect my toddler to sit down for an hour long dinner - but, ofcourse when you have a hankering for Brinner (breakfast food for dinner), your good decision-making skills fly out the window. 

Of course, we were seated dead center in the middle of the restaurant (where the eyes of every other customers end up on you frequently- and of course they did) in a booth with a window as a partition from the customers on the other side enjoying their breakfast food for dinner as well.  All was going well until Chase finished his bear pancake (with chocolate chips, because frankly, who would order a bear shaped pancake without chocolate chips?) and had a legitimate question that he needed to ask the adorable elderly couple on the opposite side of the partition.  Chase took his tiny fists that were caked in syrup of many flavors (which is why I enjoy Perkins- who doesn't love to have three different choices of syrup?), and started to bang on the glass partition, all while asking the elderly gentleman (of course at the top of his lungs) with frosty gray hair, "Hey old man, are you done eating?" 

May I note, he didn't ask this once- he asked this repeatedly until Cory's hand was able to reach across the table and cover his sticky mouth. 

Needless to say, we are no longer welcome at Perkins (at least until our two year old can refrain from insulting their customers).

Laundromat

It’s no secret that Chase is my main squeeze; we spend tons of time together.  I am very blessed that I am able to spend as much time with my little munchkin as I do (although, I don’t think it will ever be enough- I mean seriously, if he’s not hanging out with me- then he’s making memories without me in them.  And we all know that isn’t acceptable.), but sometimes I forget that I am speaking with a two year old. 

It has always been very easy to carry on conversations with my tiny tot.  I believe his large vocabulary has made my parenting gig fairly easy so far because he has- for the most part- been able to communicate to me what he wants and needs.  We can actually go days without a tantrum because we are usually on the same page (unless I eat his last ho-ho and then all hell breaks loose.  Seriously, Chase still refers to me as, “The mommy who ate the last ho-ho,” at least once a week.  Had I known this was going to be an issue for months, upon months, I would have hidden the empty wrapper.  Man can my child hold a grudge.)  

But usually there is something in our conversations that reminds me he is a two year old.  For example:

The other day, Chase and I passed a Laundromat (which we have passed twice a day for the last 2.5 years- but for some reason one day it stuck out to him) and this was our conversation:

Chase: “Mama (yes, my child refers to me as Mama, and yes- I think it is adorable.), what’s that building called?”

Me: “It’s a Laundromat.”

Chase: “What’s a Laundromat?”

Me: “It’s where people can go to wash and dry their clothes if they don’t have a washing machine or dryer at home.”

Chase: “Why don’t people have them at home?”

Me: “There are many reasons.”

Chase: “What reasons?”

Me: “Well, sometimes people don’t have enough money to buy a washer and dryer or they may live in an apartment that doesn't have a washing machine or dryer.”

Chase: “Why don’t they have money?”

Me (trying to be as insightful (and educational) as possible): “Well, there are many reasons; sometimes a Mommy or a Daddy lost a job, or maybe a family member is sick, or maybe they had to use their money to buy something else they really needed.”

Chase: “Oh or a monster bit their face off?”

Me: “Yes child. Sometimes people don’t have washers and dryers because a monster bit off their face.”

And that is where we ended the conversation, because frankly, I tried my hardest and failed.  My insightfulness (totes not an actual word- just kidding, I am too old to say totes instead of totally) was wasted on this conversation. 

Yup that's totally my child picking his nose. Typical Chase.

On A Side Note

As Chase gets older and our family gets busier, there are many things that I keep mental notes of in hopes that I will have time to go back and do something with these notes (that disappear from my brain just a quickly as they appear).  Here are my "side notes" from today:

On a side note:

Enroll Chase in art classes. After spending many, many minutes (I know what you’re thinking, “Minutes?” Yes. Minutes.  Anyone who has ever played play-dough with a two year old knows that time drags on, and on, and on and it takes everything inside of you to restrain yourself from yanking the play-dough out of your tots hands and finishing the project yourself so you can- for the love of God- move on to a different activity.) watching Chase sculpt his statue, this is what he came up with-  

Chase entitled his masterpiece, “Crushed play-dough.”

Dear feelings- please don’t be hurt that Chase thought your sculpture was a spider.  I don’t know how he could have mistaken my self-sculpture for a yucky, creepy, crawly spider.  (On a side note- get Chase’s eyes checked.)

On a side note:

Toughen up my tiny Sally.  Chase’s insult of the day was, “I will wipe off your kisses.” Oh please, oh please child, toughen up by middle school. (Because I’m not going to stop dressing you in sweater vests anytime soon and you will, most certainly, need to defend yourself.)

I hope I have enough time tomorrow to follow-up on all of my "notes."  

On a side note, this is day one of our “Elf on the Shelf” experience.  I’ll keep you posted on this naughty, naughty elf’s mischievous adventures.  Or as Chase would call him, “A naughty pants.” Because clearly, everything is more dramatic when you add “pants” on the end. 

Bed Time

Reasons my Chatty Chasey needed me to go back into his room after I tucked him into bed tonight:

Reason Number One:

I hear, “I have to go potty!” coming from Chase’s room, so I rush into his room, swoop over the side of his crib,pull him out and rush him into the bathroom (I say “rush” as if my bathroom and his room are miles apart- in fact, one night when I was using the restroom after I laid Chase down for bed, I heard him say- “Mommy, I hear your pee.”) and sit him on the potty and nothing comes out.   He then says, “Mamma, I won’t fib about potty tomorrow.” (I’m glad he clarified that he won’t lie about going potty tomorrow- so it still leaves every other topic open to lie about.  Well played little one.)

Reason Number Two:

Chase: “Mom! Come here!”

Me: “What buddy?”

Chase: “Is it raining outside?”

Me: “No. It's winter. Please go to sleep.”

Chase: “You should let me see if it's raining.”

(Insert sound of Chase’s bedroom door closing and me walking away.)

Reason Number Three:

(Insert the sound of me opening the door knob to Chase’s room yet again).  Apparently, Chase spends ample amount of time in his crib (in the dark- because frankly, nothing is shameful in the dark) knuckle deep in his nose and expects me to wipe each booger off of his pointer finger. 

Reason Number Four:

Once again, I hear Chase yelling from his room, “Mom, I have a deal for you!”  Naturally, I was intrigued about what deal my two year old had mustered up, so I entered his room and asked what his deal was.  He said sweetly, "I need one more hug- that’s my deal."  (I have to admit, it was a pretty good deal.)   

I know I probably shouldn't indulge my child’s every wish and request, but hey- I only have one child, so I have plenty of time on my hands to indulge.    

Yes and No

Yes. My child pulled down his pants when I was taking a bath, leaned over the edge of the bathtub and peed on me.

No. I didn't drain out the water and start over, although I probably should have.  I just continued on as normal… After all, I didn't want to run out of hot water.

Yes. While sitting at lunch at daycare, my child asked his daycare provider, “What do you think my mom will get me for Christmas? Maybe a big screen tv?”

No. My child isn't spoiled.

Yes. My child asked me for a “snacky-snack” today.

No. I don’t want anyone to tell Cory that our son called a bag of chips a “snacky-snack.” He already thinks Chase spends too much time around females. 

Yes.  My child told me, “Mama, good job going pee on the big potty,” when I used the bathroom the other day.  He then proceeded to clap for me.  (I think I may need to start locking the bathroom door.)

No. I didn't hate the compliment.

Yes.  My child walked around Applebee’s like a zombie with his arms straight out in front of him saying, “I’m a booby monster.”

No. I didn't correct my child and tell him it is actually called a “boogie monster.”

Cory shot a deer last weekend and hung it in our yard.  A little hillbilly?  

I Am Thankful For Boogers

I have noticed a lot of people posting on Facebook the things that they are thankful for, so I thought I would take a swing at it (sorry for the sports reference, it's not like I have taken a physical swing at anything since I failed miserably at softball in middle school)…

Today I am thankful for boogers. Why, you ask?

For without boogers, my silly tot wouldn’t be picking his nose.  And if he wasn’t picking his nose every night in his crib before he drifts off to sleep, then he wouldn’t call out for me to hurry into his room to wipe a booger off of his tiny, two inch finger and I wouldn’t be able to get one last kiss in before he closes his eyes for the night.  Maybe I should teach him not to pick his nose, but hey- this disgusting, unacceptable behavior is growing on me.

Trick-or-Treat, Smell My Feet....

So, Chase struts into daycare this morning and announces to his daycare provider, “I’m going to pull down your underwear.”  (Insert the sound of me smacking the palm of my hand on my forehead, repeatedly.)

I guess someone (Cough-Emily Revermann-Cough), didn’t realize Chase would only remember the creepy ending to this beloved Halloween rhyme before she taught it to him last weekend:   

“Trick-or-Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.  If you don’t, I don’t care, I’ll pull down your underwear.”

I apologize in advance to anyone that my child verbally assaults while trick-or-treating. 

 

On a side note:

When Chase and I were at the library yesterday, Chase was pretending to eat cookies.  A mother sitting next to us on the child sized picnic table asked Chase if he baked his pretend cookies.  Chase replied, “Oh no, my mommy just buys them at the store.”  Chase then looked at me and rolled his eyes as if signaling to me that the stranger was making up the fact that cookies can be homemade. 

My cooking.....

I spend a fair amount of time scrolling endlessly through Pintrest looking for just the right crockpot meal to serve my little family of three.  I am actually pretty obsessed with my crockpots (yes, that is plural- I have 3 crockpots- one for each family member. Cute, huh?).  I feel like when I die, my body should be cremated and put into my small little red crockpot, which is clearly my favorite one. 

Although, I think my crockpot creations are simply beautiful, my teeny tiny tot doesn’t agree with me. 

 

I usually start some sort of crockpot creation (creation may not be the right word- I am probably confusing “creation” with “experiment”) in the morning before I leave for work.  It cooks all day and fills the house with a wonderful aroma.  Well, I think it’s a wonderful aroma; Chase on the other hand does not.  He usually enters the house at 3:30pm after a long day of playing and napping and usually asks, “Hey, Mom.  What’s that bad smell?” But don’t worry. This doesn’t hurt my feelings.  My crockpot and I have become pretty immune to the negativity around our masterpieces at this point.     

Well, the other night I made chili in the crockpot.  I put Chase’s bowl on his placemat on the kitchen table.  Chase climbed up into his spot, took one look at the bowl of chili and said, “Oh, no thank-you. It looks digesting… and wet.”  He proceeded to climb down from his chair and scamper off into his room to play.  Well at least he is trying to be polite about my awful cooking, right?    

I ate chili alone that night. 

Chase must have been feeling bad about not eating my chili because the next night when I decided to make a cake he was actually quite proud of me.  As I pulled the cake out of the oven, I notice Chase out of the corner of my eye standing by our kitchen table, almost out of sight- as if he is supervising me from a distance- just far enough away to make a quick getaway in case my cake explodes.  As I set the cake on the kitchen counter I hear Chase shriek in delight, “Yay! Mommy, you did it- great job!”

Apparently, he didn’t think I could actually pull off baking an entire cake.  

My little Sully the monster. 

Too Much Mommy Time?

I am starting to fear that maybe my child spends too much time with me (and females in general)… 

Exhibit A:  After we got home from daycare today, Chase asked me if I would “take off his bra.”  (Sorry bud- since you have my genes, there will never be a need for a bra.)

Exhibit B: After I strapped Chase in his car seat this morning and started backing out of the driveway on our way to daycare, Chase let out a scream, “Stop, Mom! I forgot my purse!”  I guess you never know how many checks you need to write out to your toddler friends on the swing set or how many coupons you will need for snack time.  

   

Exhibit C: Chase asked me to put a necklace on him tonight (and of course I did- I also tried to put a headband on him too).  After his necklace was clasped, Chase looked at me and asked, “How do I look? Great?” Doesn't every boy wonder how his necklace looks?  

Is this enough evidence?

Lasso

Chase is really obsessed with listening to me tell him stories that I make up- I do this when I can’t stand one more minute of Dora the Explorer.  The stories usually consist of a little pirate boy named Chasey who sails the ocean blue in search of long lost treasure (pretty original huh?) or about the old Daddy who peed in his undies (which just so happens to be Chase’s personal favorite).

But the other night Chase decided he wanted to tell me a story for a change and this was his story (verbatim)......

“Once upon a time there was a little prince named Chasey, who lived up high in a castle.  Then he lassoed a princess and trapped her forever.  The end.”

Yikes-  I don’t know if I have been watching too many episodes of Criminal Minds, but I’m thinking I may need to report this to the FBI so they can keep him on their “too watch” list in case any princesses get abducted and trapped forever.   I’ll tell you one thing- I may never feel comfortable turning my back to him ever again and never will I buy him a lasso (I can cross that off of his Christmas wishlist).

Shot! Shot! Shot! Shot!

There's nothing like the Hair of the Dog to get you feeling good for daycare on this chilly Tuesday morning. 

Most parents would think that letting their child drink out of a shot glass at 6am would be inappropriate parenting; luckily for me (not so much for Chase) I am not most parents.  

This morning while looking for a can koozie for Chase's sippy cup (What? Don't most 2 year olds request a can koozie around their sippy cups so their tiny little fingers don't get cold? I have no idea why my tiny tot may be a little odd.), he spotted a little "Chasey sized cup" and knew he had to have his apple juice in it.  And, in an effort to avoid a temper tantrum before the rooster crowed, I rinsed out the shot glass (for fear of left over vodka still remaining inside) and poured his apple juice inside and guzzled it, he did.  

Hey, at least I made him say cheers and toast to not having any accidents in his undies today (Now that I think about it, that was the exact toast I raised my glass to most nights in college, because frankly, no one likes "that girl" who pisses herself after 19 shots.  Any who, I think I'm getting off topic...)
Happy Tuesday!   

Hello Tootsie

So the other day Chasey-poo (yes, I actually call him that and no it isn't strange) and I were at the store.  Chase was sitting in his stroller and was clearly bored but it’s not like I didn't provide him with adequate entertainment.  I provided him with a snack size bag of Cheetos (I say that like it wasn't the size of his head) and my phone to play Stupid Zombies.

He must have devoured all of his Cheetos and passed every level of the game because he got bored and decided to strike up conversations with nearby strangers.  He told a teenage girl he liked the color of her shirt; of course it was pink.  He asked another woman why she had orange hair (actually, I was glad he asked- I was wondering the same thing- but she didn't answer).  After she didn't respond, he announced that he likes curly hair (go figure).  But all of those conversations were normal (and only fifty percent were offensive).

Then, I saw that Chase made eye contact with a gentleman walking towards his stroller.  My heart started to beat faster because I could sense Chase was waiting until the gentleman got closer to blurt something out, which would probably be inappropriate and I knew I didn't have time to cover his mouth.  Chase waited until the gentleman was in clear hearing distance (he has great timing like that) and greeted him with a, “Hello Tootsie.” 

I thought to myself, “Oh crap, how am I going to pretend like this didn't just happen?”  The guy stopped, his face became the color of a tomato and he power walked away from us in the other direction- luckily, he was the one who pretended this didn't happen.  I knew after this greeting, we needed to scram… so scram we did.  I pushed Chase's stroller right out the door and headed home; where no one, besides family- who hardly judges him- can hear his speak.  

I still have no idea why my child continuously hits on gentleman in public places, but it’s starting to worry me…        

What Did You Mumble Under Your Breath?

Have you ever been told you are a drunk from a toddler?  I have.  Well, I guess my child doesn’t actually know what being a drunk means, but I know Chase was alluding to the fact that he thinks I am one...

The other day I walked up to Chase and gave him a kiss on the cheek (which isn’t out of the ordinary since he receives nearly 1,440 kisses from me a day- if you are doing the math it equals out to one kiss every minute- which is a pretty accurate guess) and typically Chase would have just wiped the kiss off or pretended like I wasn’t hovering around him and ignore my kind act.  But this day was a little different. 

After I planted a gigantic wet kiss on his cheek, I heard him mumble something under his breath.  I asked him to repeat what he said because I didn’t quite catch it (and I want to know everything he says in case he is telling me how much he appreciates my simple acts of kindness).  So he repeated it louder as if he was annoyed, “Mom, I said you have beer on your breath.”

I stood there dumbfounded for a second and then my dumbfounded-nesss (apparently, spell check doesn’t think dumbfounded-ness is a word- but I do) disappeared and turned into a need to defend myself.  So I replied, “Um no sweetheart, Mommy never has beer on her breath, if anything it is the aroma of wine you are smelling.” 

It’s like my child doesn’t think I’m sophisticated.  I like to think I’m a little classier than a simple can of Coors; anyone who knows me knows I’m more of a, drink my boxed wine in a plastic cup through a green straw, kinda gal.  Looking back on this moment (which will certainly not be documented in Chase's baby book), I think maybe I should have been more concerned with the fact that my toddler thinks I constantly reek of alcohol then being offended by the type of alcohol he labeled me with. 

Any who, Happy Friday!

House-Guest

So, we have a new house-guest.  My parents are going to Ireland on vacation so that means we got a bird bundled up in a basket on our door step.  Okay, maybe it was delivered in a cage and it wasn’t bundled up or swaddled like a baby.  But at this point I would welcome an infant in a basket as opposed to a bird in a cage.  My worst nightmare has come true… Chase has fallen in love.  Beak over feet, in-love.

Yesterday, Chase and I were driving down the road and all of a sudden Chase shrieked, “Mama!”  I jerked my head back to see who was stabbing my child (because that would have been the only reason anyone would shriek like that) and he continued in a calm voice (I’m starting to think he may have multiple personalities similar to Sybil), “we have a pet, his name is Tweety.”  Um, no little one, we have a visitor… say it with me, a visitor.    

I am not a pet person, mainly for the reason that pets require work and are added responsibility (I know what you’re thinking- don’t you just have to feed it?  Yes, you have to feed it; everyday.  I can hardly remember to feed myself most days).  I had buyer’s remorse after purchasing a fish for Chase over a year ago.  The darn thing just won’t die.  I swear it’s staying alive to just taunt me.  

On a side note: Chase has only thrown one toy at Tweety and only accidentally put one book on top of Tweety.  I fear Tweety may meet his maker before my parents return.  Then I’ll have to do what my dad has always done; buried our dead birds (yes, plural) in the backyard in a Schwan’s chicken wings box (Yeah, this is the stuff I grew up around.  It took me many years to realize this wasn't normal).

House Rules

I’m not ignorant to the fact that I am a little strange (hey- you can’t fully blame me, have you met my family?), but I fear my oddities are rubbing off on my child.

I don’t have many rules in my house but the two rules I do enforce, I enforce like a drill sergeant. 

Rule #1: No rubbing food on your man jewels before eating it (this rule is no secret- but rule number two is something I thought I would never tell anyone outside of my house).

Rule #2:  You are welcome to have a snack while you are sitting on the potty- as long as it doesn't involve a fork (because frankly, using a fork in that environment can be dangerous).

Tonight while we were eating dinner Chase announced, “I have to go potty!”  Luckily for him he was already naked (no, being dressed at dinner isn't one of our household rules, don’t ask me why that one didn't make the cut) so his exit from the dining room to the bathroom shouldn't have been difficult.  He slid off of his dining room chair, and high tailed it into the hallway headed directly for the bathroom.  But somewhere along the way he decided he needed something, so back to the dining room table he came.  He crawled up on his chair as if no one was watching (and it wasn't shameful), grabbed a handful of shredded cheese and announced matter-of-factly, “Oh, I needed cheese” and off to the bathroom he returned.  (On a side note, he did make it to the potty and gobbled up his entire handful of cheese before he got up to wipe himself.)

It’s nice to know that although my child is a little odd, he is a rule follower.  After all, he may have brought a rather bizarre snack to the potty, but he didn't bring a fork and for that he got a high five when he returned to the table.   

Please don’t question my parenting.  Child Protective Services is questioning my parenting enough for everyone.  J

A Titty Tale or Two

Chase spent the night at Cory’s parent’s house last Friday night.  It is a big deal for me when Chase is gone for the evening because I’m sure he misses me as much as I miss him when we are apart and frankly, I don’t want to put him through the heartache of missing me and not rocking together before he blissfully drifts off to sleep for the evening (or until he has to go potty, or until he gets too hot, or until his pj's piss him off so much that he screams).  Nonetheless, I like to let myself believe there is some sort of heartache on his end also.  So, in an effort to not break his heart, overnights without mommy are scarce.  

I spent the entire evening missing him.  Cory and I went out to dinner and I found myself daydreaming about spending time with Chase and scrolling through my phone to look at pictures of him (I may be a little obsessed with my child but that is only because I don’t have hobbies, or a social life, or boundaries).  Sometimes I wonder what I ever talked about before Chase.  Probably nothing important. 

On Saturday we met Cory’s parents and Chase at a softball tournament.  I envisioned Chase waiting for me as we drove up to the softball field and running in my direction with his arms wide open ready to give me a gigantic hug all while spouting out how much he missed his beloved mother (I may watch a little too many Lifetime movies).  But that was not the welcome I received.

As Cory’s parents pulled up to the field I waited by the car door to greet my little nugget, but he was fast asleep (I’m sure he was so very exhausted from missing me and couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer).  As I got him out of his car seat he woke up and I thought to myself, great- now he can tell me how much he missed me.  But instead, 1 millisecond after he opened his eyes he stuck out his tiny little hands, made his fingers into little pinchers and yelled “Titty twister.”  Yes, that’s right.  Chase’s uncle Brent taught him how to do titty twisters in my absence.  Not so much the greeting I was looking for…. Please wish me luck in explaining this one to daycare.  

All of this "titty" talk reminds me of a story about my cousin’s little boy, Rylee (I know what you're thinking- who has two stories about titties?   Sadly, I do).  When Rylee was younger he pronounced “K” as a “T.”  You may think, oh that’s no big deal.  But when you are talking about kitties it is… this was what he said while talking about “kitties”: 

Rylee (to my aunt Jenny): “I like little titties, I like big titties, I even like your titties.” 

Rylee (to me): "You don't have any titties."

It's nice to know he doesn't discriminate.  

Pee-Pee

It’s no secret that Chase can sometimes (and when I say sometimes, I mean always) be embarrassing in public.  He is often quite embarrassing at home, but at least there is no one (but my soul) to apologize to there.

So, yesterday (in true Kleinermann fashion (see what I did there combining Cory and my last names- clever huh?) we scurried to Fleet Farm last minute to get some sort of deer hunting license for Cory (I’m not quite sure what type of licenses he needed.  I’m sure Cory told me while we were standing in line, but I was probably distracted by the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that were taunting me as I stood in line).  What started out as a quick, normal errand turned creepy, fast…. real fast.  

We were standing in line at customer service and Chase was perched, as normal, on my hip.  It was getting quite late (7:30pm- yes, that is late, even on a Thirsty Thursday) and Chase was getting tired so he had his sweet little noggin resting on my shoulder when out of nowhere he screeches, “Mom, stop hurting my pee-pee!”

Naturally, I was the only female standing in a deer hunting license line and every single man dressed in Wrangler jeans, boots and flannel shirts turned around to see who was violating this sweet, curly haired tot dressed in camouflage pjs. 

I immediately started searching around for a hole to crawl in, but there wasn't one in sight- at this moment, I would have crawled into a bear’s den covered in honey. Instead, I just stood there, weeping inside to myself hoping that every person in Fleet Farm was hard of hearing.

As it turns out, Chase’s “junk was getting crushed” (his words, not mine) from me holding him on my hip.  I guess one downfall of wearing big boy undies is that there is no more cushion to protect your man jewels.  Oh, the troubles toddlers face on a daily basis.   

Who doesn't love a naked tea party in the sink?

Puppy Conversation and Awkward Rule for the Day

My conversation with Chase:

Chase: “Mommy, I’m a puppy in a cage.”  (Please note: he was inside of an upside down laundry basket at this moment.  Don’t ask.)

Me: “You’re a cute puppy.” (Frankly, everything he does is cute- except for picking his nose and wiping his boogers on the back of my shirt.  Please tell me that stage will end soon.)

Chase: “This puppy needs a snack.”

Me: “What kind of a snack?”

Chase: “Oh, just a candy bar snack.”

Huh? Either I need to educate my child on what dogs actually eat, or he was trying to outsmart me.  Well yeah, the puppy did end up getting a Snickers, but I will be smarter than him next time.   

Chase being a puppy in the laundry basket.  Please don't call child protective services- he wanted to be trapped in there- I swear. 

Awkward (but necessary) rule of the day:  Chase is no longer, under any circumstances, allowed to eat snacks naked on the couch ever again.  Apparently, Chase hasn't learned that it isn't socially acceptable- or even acceptable in the privacy of your own home- to rub your goldfish crackers one by one, on your junk before every bite.  (I mean, every other bite would be fine, but every bite is just ridiculous and disgusting.)  

Chase Quotes

I have been very lucky to have had an extended weekend at home with my little munchkin.  Sometimes I marvel at the things he says, and sometimes I just have to remember, not everyone is college material.  Below are some of the things that Chase has said over the last few days that have made me stop and scratch my head….

Chase to the checkout lady at T.J. Maxx, “I have teeth, I use them to bite.”  (I don’t know whether he was strictly trying to inform with this statement or intimidate.  I also don't know why Chase feels the need to say awkward things to people in checkout lines, but he does and I pretend I can’t make out what he is saying.)

Chase to me, “Mommy, I like your big butt and I cannot lie.”  (I actually think he was trying to be sweet when saying this, but it’s hard to tell when all of his comments are made with a straight face, followed by a wet willy.)

Chase to me about a tattoo I have on my foot, “Mom.  I can pee on your tattoo.”  (This is an odd thing to brag about.)

Out of nowhere, to no one in particular, “I have a tongue, I like to lick.”  (I hope he grows out of his licking stage quickly before he is licking windows on the school bus on his way to kindergarten.)  

And my personal favorite conversation:

Me: “Chase you are being a little sassy.”

Chase: “Suck it up, Sally.”

Me: “Correction, super sassy.” 

Potty Training Reports

So, we have been potty training for the last four days.  This is our second attempt at potty training.  Last time, I lasted for a half day before I broke down and wanted to put diapers back on both of us. 

This time around I have decided I would keep daily potty training reports so when Chase is older he can see the torture he put me through (and when he is rich he will feel guilty and buy me expensive things or at least put me in a nice nursing home)….

Day 1- What the heck did we get ourselves into?

We decided to set a timer every 30 minutes from the time Chase woke up until the time he went to bed.  Every time the timer went off, we put Chase on the potty.  Holy crap, I have never realized how many 30 minutes make up one day.  I swear the universe added extra minutes to the day just to torture me.  Every time I knew the timer was about to go off, I cringed and strapped on my helmet.  Yes, I did say helmet.  My child decided that it was, in fact, appropriate behavior to throw punches in my direction and scratch my forearms every time I would get within arm’s reach of him on the potty.

Note to self: Clip Chase’s fingernails tomorrow- for my own safety.

My conclusion for the day: Maybe Chase’s wife won’t mind changing his diapers.

Chase’s conclusion for the day: “Mommy, I want to scratch you.”

Day 2- Oh day 2, why won’t you end?

Chase did slightly better today.  When I say slightly, I mean not at all.  Today was more of a numbers game: 6 tinkles in the potty, 2 accidents, ½ of a poop in undies, ½ of a poop in the potty, 7 swats at me, and 1 bruise.

My conclusion for the day: I promise I won’t cry again tomorrow.

Chase’s conclusion for the day: “Mommy, I don’t want to play potty training anymore.”

Day 3- Sorry!

Chase didn't do well potty training at daycare today.  To the couch and living room carpet at daycare: Sorry you got a urine bath today.   Although Chase rejected potty training at daycare today, Chase had no accidents at home.  This is progress.

My conclusion for the day: To my child care provider:  I’m sure Chase didn't actually mean to hit you when you tried to put him on the potty. I’m sure his fist accidentally bumped your arm, repeatedly.  Right?

Chase’s conclusion for the day: “Potty training is naughty.”

Day 4- My favorite phone call ever!

While at work this morning my phone rings.  Ring. Ring.  On the other end is my Chasey; he called me from day care (No, he didn’t grab the phone and dial my number by himself- I’m sure he had help).  He yelled gleefully into the phone, “I pee in the potty. Take me to Cherry Berry.”  Chase knew he did something good and he knew he needed a reward. 

Side Note: No accidents today! 

My conclusion for the day:  Ya! I can retire my helmet and my washing machine gets a night off.

Chase’s conclusion for the day: Damn, I guess they aren't going to give in; I might as well get Cherry Berry out of the deal. 

Humpty Dumpty

At our house we spend a lot of time reading, singing and saying nursery rhymes.  Chase was repeating Humpty Dumpty the other night and it got me to thinking.  Nursery rhymes are very counterproductive to our current practices and are a little morbid. For instance:

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All of the king’s horses and all of the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.

First off, whose name is actually Humpty Dumpty? Don’t you think having the word dumpty in your name gives you a little preview into your future that you are almost certainly going to dump yourself off of a high building.  It’s not like you need an old lady sitting at a table in a dark alley rubbing a glass ball to tell you that one.

Secondly, where were Humpty’s parent’s during this time?  It seems as though if he isn’t old enough to harness himself to the wall before climbing, shouldn’t he have had someone do that for him? Or at least be under the supervision of his parents?  I’m guessing they were probably on their IPhones.

Thirdly, how are you supposed to explain to your child why Humpty was on the wall in the first place? “Well, Little Billy, Humpty’s wife ran off with the milk man last week and he just lost his job…”  I think not.   

Lastly, couldn’t all of the king’s horses and all of the king’s men try a little harder to put Humpty Dumpty back together again?  I mean, why were they so quick to give up?  Aren’t we supposed to teach our children to try and then try again?  I think that this rhyme is missing one last sentence:  “And then all of the King’s horses and all of the King’s men tried really hard one more time and eventually did put Humpty together again. (And then they all did a chest bump and headed to the bar to celebrate.)” That ending would be way more suitable for small children, well minus the bar part.

I’m not saying I’m never going to repeat this nursery rhyme ever again to my child (because frankly, I’m proud that he can repeat the whole rhyme himself.   So I’m going to encourage him to show off his Humpty Dumpty skills to every stranger we see- I certainly cannot let his skills go unnoticed.), but I might think twice about changing the words again to “Chasey Dumpty,” because I guess in that version, I was unknowingly killing off my son.  Opps!  Anyway- Happy Friday!

And I quote (sadly): "Mom, my cheese is like whiskers on a kitty."

 

The last Ho-Ho, Oh, No!

There it was.  Sitting on the top shelf of the pantry, glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light; the last ho-ho.  Oh what I would do for a ho-ho… but just as quickly as my delight came over me, it turned into fear.  Fear because there was only one ho-ho left.  (I know what you’re thinking, don’t they come in a 2-pack?  Well, yes, they do, but breaking up a pair is unthinkable.  It would be like breaking up Bert and Ernie or Peter Pan and Tinkerbell- Man, I watch a lot of cartoons.)

Chase had been asking all morning to go outside and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity.  I shoved the ho-ho up my sleeve as we headed outside, trying to cover the crinkling of the package with a loud cough as the plastic wrapper slid from side to side in my sleeve.  I waited a minute or so until Chase was playing joyfully in his sandbox to open the wrapper.  I knew I had to wait for the perfect opportunity.  Luckily, Chase had a bucket on his head so he didn't hear me fumble with the wrapper.  Then, quickly, I shoved the ho-hos (yes both of them) into my mouth.  I think I may have unhinged my jaw-similar to a snake eating a rat.  But I didn't care, I needed to eat the ho-hos and I needed them bad. 

But I made one mistake; one big mistake.  I laid the wrapper on the ground next to my lawn chair.  It didn't take long for my tiny tot to recognize the package lying lifeless on the grass.  He asked me for a ho-ho and I had to be honest (mainly because my breath still smelled like sweet, sweet chocolate and delicious filling).  I sat him down and filled him in on the situation, “Honey, Mommy ate the last ho-ho.”  Chase let out a shriek as if I had just stabbed him in the heart.  Then he did the only rational thing he could think of- he kicked me.  I understood his need for revenge.   But being the only parental figure in sight, I figured I needed to do some parenting.  I told him that it is naughty to kick mommy and if he did it again he would have a timeout. 

So, he did what toddlers do best- he kicked me in the shin again (luckily for me he was wearing his crocs that are a thick fluffy plastic, so it hardly hurt.  But I tell you, my child kicks like a bull so I’m lucky my pale, pale skin didn't bruise like a peach).  But, I was forced to give him a timeout.  This timeout probably won the record for the longest, most grueling timeout in history.  Once Chase finally sat down in the timeout chair, he threw his crocs at me and he proceeded to slither underneath the arms of the chair (I guess Chase and I both have snake like qualities). 

This is the second Chase realized Mommy ate the last Ho-Ho. 

Finally, after about 15 minutes, and many neighbors peering out their windows to make sure I wasn't abusing my child, Chase finally sucked it up and said sorry.  When I picked him up out of the timeout chair he growled in my ear, “I want to throw a ball at you.” 

I guess do I have to give him props for communicating his feelings and not following through on his naughty thoughts- all of the time.   

The better my child becomes at communication the more I find myself apologizing.  Not that Chase is having new thoughts, but now strangers can actually make out what he is saying.

My list of apologies for the week (and mind you, it’s only Tuesday morning):

               I am sorry to the petite woman at Coborn’s with a really short haircut.  I’m sure Chase didn’t actually mean to say, “Look at the little boy,” and point in your direction. 

               My apologies to the pizza delivery woman.  I realize that just because you were wearing a sports shirt and athletic shorts, doesn’t mean that you are necessarily on a softball team and on your way to practice, but apparently Chase didn’t know that.  (But my toddler does bring up a good point, maybe your company should invest in some matching uniforms.  I’m sure it’s confusing for children to have their food delivered by an athlete lookalike and not snazzy restaurant employee.  He’s going to be disappointed when Michael Jordan doesn’t make his nuggets at McDonald's now.)

               My apologies to the teeny bopper who was crying at Target the other day.  I’m sure my child didn’t mean to call you a “little baby.”  I’m sure it is completely age appropriate for a 12 year old to cry over not getting a new pair of shoes.  I don’t know how that behavior could have confused a toddler. 

 

               My apologies to my kitchen walls.  I’m sure it was a disappointment when we spent all night painting you, just the right color of blue and Chase’s only response when he woke up and saw it was, “I like orange.”

               My most sincere apologies to my backside.  It was hurtful when Chase said, “Mom, I have a little butt and you have a big squishy butt.”   Little does he know, he’s the reason my derriere isn’t nearly as perky as it used to be.

Well, from the bottom of my heart- I’m sorry (but if you don’t want to be offended by my toddler in the future, you may want to stay out of his path.)

Who couldn't forgive this little nugget?  :) 

Poetry

Believe it or not, when I was in college, I spent some time studying poetry.  For a brief period of time (please remember I enjoyed a drink or two during my college days) I toyed with the idea of being a full-time poet (only because I found out jury duty wasn't actually a full time job). As it turns out, there isn't a high demand for poets these days, who would have thought?

The one thing I haven’t written a poem about is parenting (and trust me, I have written poems about pretty much everything- including fainting goats), so I thought I would give it a shot.  Besides, who doesn't love a good rhyme?

Instructions for poem: The odd numbered lines are what I was thinking as a parent during my first year of parenthood and the even numbered lines are the things I think during my second year of parenthood.  Ex: Line 1: First year thoughts,  Line 2: Second year thoughts, Line 3: First year thoughts… and so on.  (Do you follow? Sorry for forcing you to think during this poem.)

I love to count your ten little toes,

I don’t especially like it when you pick your nose.

I can’t believe you are mine,

You want an apple fritter for dinner?  Sure, that’s fine.

I love your blonde curly hair,

Can I use the bathroom alone?  It creeps me out when you stare. 

Sure, stranger, I would love to hear your parenting tip,

If you question my parenting again, I may flip.

Infants are easy… I got this,

Where did he go? Chase? What did I just miss?

I should have 16 children; my child is so mild,

Sorry bud; you're going to be an only child.

Future Architect? 

Mousekersizing

So, yesterday I decided to bite the bullet and start exercising again (On a side note, I've never really understood the saying, “bite the bullet.” It sounds painful and if you actually have a bullet in your mouth, you are probably unintelligent enough to choke on it.  Any who……).  I know, I don’t want to rush into it.  I mean, I only took 14 years off.  But I decided to put on my big girl granny panties (mainly because that’s the only type of underwear that doesn't cause a gigantic wedge when you’re running, or slowly, slowing, speed walking) and dust off my treadmill- with my only pair of socks. 

My tennis shoes were not the only ones confused with my newly found fitness desire (Yeah, I was surprised I own a pair tennis shoes too).  Chase was a little taken aback when he saw me on the treadmill.  I’m not actually sure he was aware of the purpose of the treadmill.  He usually uses it to swing like a monkey from handle to handle while asking me for a banana. 

When I was in fully panting- pace (4 minutes into my painstaking workout) Chase stood in front of the treadmill in his full, head to toe MN Twins attire and asked, “you mousker-sizing?”  I looked at him (with shame in my eyes for 2 reasons: One because my child has to clarify with me what I am doing when he sees me exercising because it is such a foreign activity and secondly because my little cartoon addict uses Mickey Mouse Clubhouse references in his everyday vocabulary.) and said, “No sweetheart, it’s called exercising… say it with me, exercising.”  His response, “Where the ice-cream truck?”  I guess my child only believes I would run if I was headed towards an ice-cream truck (and typically he would be right).      

Although, my tiny tot isn't showing his support for my new healthy lifestyle, I am actually adjusting to my new healthy lifestyle quite well.  I am currently on day two of my rigorous workout routine.  I was a little worried I might over-do-it and pull a muscle but I think I have come up with the perfect workout routine.  It consists of walking for 15 minutes straight- with hardly any breaks, while watching reruns of the Real Housewives (because honestly, watching them once is not enough).  So this is what I have been doing.  But rest assured, since I did so well yesterday, I rewarded myself by stopping 7 minutes premature today.  Tomorrow I may reward myself with the day off.      

With this rigorous routine, I am bound to shed this baby weight in no time (I know what your thinking- once your child is 2.5 years old you can no longer blame your extra pounds on a pregnancy from 3 years ago... but you're wrong.  I have 18 years to loose my baby weight.)

9 Reasons Why My Child Cried Today

Awhile back I posted a list of reasons why my child was mad one day.  As it turns out there are many days that my child feels that the world has done him wrong and today was one of those days. As my child gets older and grows more independent he has begun to form his own opinions about things.  And in true toddler fashion, he expressed all of his opinions in tears today. Below are 9 (not 10- because 10 is so predictable) reasons my child cried today.

9 Reasons Why My Child Cried Today:

1. I woke him up this morning.  When I rubbed his back to lovingly wake him up, he opened one eye and growled, “No scratch me.” (And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how our day began.)

2. We drove to daycare in our green car (like we have done for the last 2.5 years) but for some unknown reason, Chase wanted our car to be blue today and he wouldn’t settle for anything less.   

3.  The sun was out this morning.  Chase requested the moon to make an appearance at 7 am and the moon failed him.  (Can you tell my child isn’t an early bird?  He never catches the worm, only bad moods.)

4. I said the word dinner.  (Apparently, even the thought of my cooking sends him into a downward spiral.)

5.  I put his pirate eye patch on the wrong eye (Man, I really need to pull myself together.)

6. We went to the store. 

7.  I mistakenly reached for the grape juice in aisle 3,234 (Well, maybe Walmart doesn’t have that many aisles, but it sure felt like I walked through 3,234 of them tonight.) instead of apple juice.  (Good thing Chase was there to correct me or this could have been a disaster.)

8. We left the store (and got into our disappointingly green car).

9. We didn't purchase Despicable Me 2 minion figurines.  (I pulled one of those, “sure you can have this toy” to keep him entertained in the cart while we shopped and then ditched it at the last second at the register when Chase was engulfed in all of the impulse buys at the checkout aisle.  Unfortunately for me, my child has the memory of an elephant and frantically dug through the grocery bags when we returned searching for his minions.  I’m pretty sure if Chase could have sent me to bed without a bedtime snack, he would have for trying to pull this.)

While rocking before bed, I asked Chase if he had a bad day.  He said that he did indeed, have a bad day (this may have been the only thing we agreed on today). I told him that I hope tomorrow is better and that I love when he is a good boy.  Chase said with a very defeated tone, “Thank you, Mommy.  I was a good boy last weekend,” and laid his head on my shoulder.  After I laid him in his crib, kissed him on the forehead, I headed for the door.  As I closed the door, I heard him say, “I love you Mommy.”  Even after all of the tears of today (his, not mine), I welcome any day that I get with my toddler- the good or the bad.