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.”