Shoo, Ice Cream man! No bodder me!

This a dual-purposed post. I'm combining my dislike for our local ice cream truck entrepreneurs and my sassy Pink Baby's new phrase vocabulary.

A friend recently asked me what the PB's word count was at. I really have no idea. 100, 1,000? I'm not trying to talk up how smart my kid is, I am merely trying to paint a picture of my daily word intake, why my brain is almost always mushy, and why I may not return your phone calls, like ever. Too Many Words.

The PB is a sass and a half (a sassy senorita as Kendra would call it) and is constantly telling us where something is, or isn't ("[Oldest] not in his room." [middlest] es over der") like a dang play-by-play you didn't ask for. I love it and it makes me want to squish her up but 3 talkie-talkertons x's seven million words a day makes me a little nuts. Her current phrases include, No Way!, No! Jose!, Shoo fly, no bodder me, Get OUT!, Holy Cow!, and a version of the ABC's that almost sounds like one long word and gets hung up on W. (QRSsssTUVeeee, W....w...w..w..W!)

Part two:

The ice cream truck duel. One is bright yellow and is driven by a nice Latina. It has an alien eating an ice-pop painted on the side and is by all accounts, the type of truck I occasionally let my kids buy from. It isn't scary and I really doubt she'd sell any popsicles laden with staples or razor blades.

The other is, well the type that we steer clear of. I'm sure the person at the wheel is a nice gentleman but I'm not giving my kids the chance to find out. The reason isn't that he's scary. It's the scary song he blasts by mega phone that keeps us indoors. I wish I could record it but I'll do my best to re-create it here:

It's a music-only version of "Oh Susanna" with a hose whinny added in for effect. "Oh Susanna, oh don't you cry for me, {NEIGH, SNORT} I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee.{WHINEEEEEEE, clomp clomp}"

It repeats over and over until your kids are so confused, they forget the dollar and run outside with a rodeo hat, chaps and a carrot. A carrot ain't going to buy you a Sponge bob Popsicle with black gum eyes. No sir.

My sister's mother-in-law (got that?) used to tell her kids that the ice cream man turns on his music when he's out of ice cream. :) I'm thinking of telling mine that horse sounds coming from an ice cream truck mean that a horse is in there eating all the ice cream and you better stay back because he'll nip at you too. I'm setting them up for therapy later on, aren't I?

"Don't worry Mom,

when I say that he's stupid, it's not bad. I only mean that he's like really dumb and like, not smart like me."


Oh good, I thought we were going to have that talk about humility again.

So...

I was thinking it was about time to bump Mr. Mays down the list but I cannot seem to wrap my brain around any one thought long enough to get it typed out. Plus! My camera is so full of images that I am scared to look through one for fear that I will catch "blogging diarrhea" and not be able to stop my posting.

Trust me, they don't make cyber-meds for that type of affliction. You're better off.

R.I.P. Mr. OxiClean

Of the recent rash of celebrity deaths, perhaps one touched our hearts and home more than the rest. The death of Mr. William Mays, pitchman for such infomercial products as OxiClean, Mighty Mendit, Mighty Putty, etc. left us with a huge hole in our hearts and a shelf full of products bearing his likeness.

To bring to light the effect Mr. Mays had on our household, I only need to recount several recent conversations that took place under my roof.

The middlest and oldest:

"Man, you're going to be in so much trouble when Mommy sees that stain on your shirt."

"Don't worry, she can get it out with the amazing oxygenating power of OxiClean."

"Hey, [Middlest]! You broke my toy!"

"Oh, don't worry! We can fix it with Might Putty! It's as easy as 1, 2, 3! Cut, knead it to activate and then we can fix your toy! It holds up to 350 pounds!"

"Hey Mom, that fwag (flag) is wipped (ripped). They should bwing it down and fix it with Mighty Mend It. It can withstand huwicane-force winds!"

And the Husband:

"Hi, Dad here, with another amazing product! It's called Dad Clean. When your dad is super stinky, use this powerful product to get the stink out!"

And, to bring it home, the middlest who has a firmer grasp on his faith and what death means said, "Mom, I hope the OxiClean guy left some OxiClean here for us to use. And also, I hope he took some with him. God could reawy use it to get His cwothes whiter and cweaner. It will boost the laundwy soap he was alweady using."

Have you met Mike?

This is Mike

(the yellow one)

Mike and the pink baby are inseparable. No one knows the origin of the name "Mike" for her blankie, but you have to admit, it's unique.
The only problem we've run into with this arrangement is when we're in public and say things like, "Do you want to go snuggle up with Mike and take a nap?" That sounds a bit weird, even to us.

We heart Craigslist!

A week and a few days ago our dryer took a dumper. Grandma has been so nice and has laundered our dirties and shuttled them back to us (gotta say that hiring a laundry service is not a terrible idea). We have no money to allot to this type of expense so Husband got all brilliant and listed 3 big-ticket items Saturday morning.

By 10am we had a call and by noon we had made $250.

By 2, another sale. This time $150.

Lastly, the item that we thought wouldn't sell, the washing machine, was loaded onto a truck along with it's broken counterpart and we were another $120 richer.

Oh and Craigslist's wonderfulness didn't stop there for us, oh no! We found a two year old washer/dryer set for $350. Husband talked the guy down to $300, got him to deliver it, and taught the boys the "art of negotiation" in the process. It was a win, win win.

If you can count, it would seem that we were "up" for the day. Sadly, due to last weekend's heinous bachelor/bachelorette expenses, the remainder of our earnings went to the American Express card.

Maybe one day we'll recoup what we are out from Tim's brother and his new wife. Is it tacky to send a bride and groom a bill for $1000 instead of a wedding present. Yeah, probably.

But Yay! Craigslist. Now if only the excellent CL could work it's magic and find us a buyer for Husband's new/old truck. That would truly be the greatest Craigslist miracle of all.

Overheard

Oldest: What ARE you doing? That looks weird. Why are you giving yourself a wedgie?

Middlest: What? I'm tucking in my fart.

Oldest: Gross!

Middlest: I'm afraid if I don't I'm gonna smell it.



Middlest: Oh darnacles, it doesn't work. That smells.



Boys are gross and weird, for sure.

When it rains... things break

"When it rains, it pours" didn't seem to fit.

I could have also given this post the title, "When it rains, our savings gets drained."

And really? Our issues have nothing to do with rain, except that it has been rainy and drizzly and just plain soggy for the better part of May and June. Popcorn, hot cocoa and a movie under a big blanket is all that my brain craves. No time for that. And isn't it almost summer? My body is confused. Hmmm...

Anywho, we sold our high-payment, just had to buy new! car and took out a small loan to cover what we were upside-down and to buy a beater to get the Husband to work. Cut our monthly car payment in half. Yay! A step in the right direction, right? Would have been except the Husband and I are incredibly trusting individuals and got royally duped by the sweetest dad of four with the paperwork of EVERYTHING that had ever been done to the car, and the story that the money from the sale was going to fund his vasectomy. We bonded and got a cool new/old car, to boot! We lamely overlooked the fact that every time we looked at the car, the guy had it running. We never actually started it ourselves. Dude, we are NOT people with any sort of knowledge of anything to do with cars and we want to see the good in people always- which turns out is a terrible recipe for getting suckered in the auto department.

When the Mr. got it home and started it, white smoke. Hmmm... take it to the mechanic just to have it looked over, maybe have some hoses or belts replaced. Yeah, the heads were bad. Pretty much the WORST thing to have to fix on a car you just bought. A measly two-grand would have it up and running. That's two-thirds of what we paid for it. Sweet! Score one for the car dummies!

Long story longer, my sister's boyfriend offered to make it his project for a fraction of the cost. More than just the heads were bunk (including a full rat's nest nestled snugly in the engine and a goopy jell-like substance in the radiator, a clutch that needs replacing...etc.) but James worked his car magic and we have it back at our house and listed on Craigslist! I'm pretty sure James won't speak to us again because of the headache we caused him. At the very least we had to sign a document and have it notarized that "We, the aforementioned car dummies, do solemnly swear to NEVER purchase a car without the consent of an outside person containing half a brain. "

It feels really cool to be in our thirties and learning these types of lessons. Really cool. Doh!

So now that the car is "fixed" we are on the prowl for a super cheap washer and dryer set since ours decided to die this week. AND, we just got our refrigerator fixed for the second time in a year, so we're really excited about that.

Things happen in three's right? We're done with this stuff, right? Right???

Easter babies.

Easter Hunt.

Easter Loot.

Easter Scowl.

Easter was a lot more colorful than I'm eluding to here. In fact, I am trying to escape pastels for a bit. Black and white is what you get.

If you think I'm lazy

and just haven't posted the dramatic conclusion of the Marble Saga you're just too impatient. Keep holdin'. That's what my kid is doing. 14 days and counting. Miralax does nothing for marbles.

Waiting on marbles.

Or, if you like: Poop Watch 2009.

Someone in this house swallowed one of those metallic marbles that belong to a magnetic set. Someone else has to find a way to collect and sort through each bowel movement. If not, the next post will be entitled, "Mega X-Ray Monday".

Husband suggested I glove up and fish it from the toilet. (Ranks up there on my list of WORST IDEAS EVER) Others have suggested potty chairs, plastic wrap the bowl, catch it in a Tupperware. A brilliant woman suggested using a stick to break it apart while still in the toilet. She wins.

And no, it wasn't the Pink Baby. If it were, it would make too much sense to have happened in my house. I would also have the benefit of the diaper poop-catching system. No, it wasn't the middlest. Again, that would make sense. I won't say who but in all his six years, he has never swallowed anything foreign. That I know of.

Stay tuned. Poop Watch 2009

Mega Milestone Monday

So maybe technically it should be a milestone Saturday and Sunday but I'm posting this on Monday and I love alliteration. Sue me.

The boys have been separated. No, they were not conjoined twins. They have shared a room since the middle one was old enough to be in a bunk bed. Age two, maybe? We had been holding off but it was becoming more and more of a hassle at bedtime and all the time, really, so we cleared out the playroom and now each kid has his own room. The oldest loves that he doesn't almost get his head chopped off by the ceiling fan on the top bunk and the middlest loves not having a mattress and a snoring brother over his head. And I love having a place to send each of them when things get a little testy.

So milestone one: big boys in their own big boy rooms.

Milestones two and three: Husband actually running!

Kidding, it's the oldest riding a bike sans training wheels!

Milestone four: Middlest trying to do the same. Don't let this picture fool you, he was actually pretty good at it. He was just equally as good at falling on his head.

BTW, I think he may not have any pain receptors in his nerves or wherever they are supposed to be. It might be a genetic thing judging by his little sister's reaction to injury as well.

And for good measure, the pink baby, in pink.

My top five reasons why the time change is the devil

5. Putting the kids down to bed when it's still light. They hate it.
4. Forgetting to make dinner until it gets dark which is now too late to be starting dinner.
3. Having to watch the kids in the front yard now for a longer period of time.
2. It gives me a premature case of spring fever, but we're stuck with winter weather.
1. WAKING UP AND IT'S STILL DARK!

Today the Mr. and I were awakened by the oldest who started with a "Wow, I really slept in." which normally would be great but today was a work day and YIKES! we all slept in. Husband and I practically ro-sham-bo'ed for the shower. I let him have it.* I threw on some clothes and slicked back my greasy hair, slapped on some make-up and my BIG hoop earrings, hoping to distract from my slick hair, grabbed a lunch and ran out the door.

I thought, Ha! Five minutes to get ready and I look great! until I was greeted at the door by a 6 year old who put me in my place. "Mrs. C., WHY do you look so weird today? And what's up with those huge, weird earrings?"

Guess not.

By 9 am I was almost legally dead so I called my mom and she brought me some coffee. Yes, I'm spoiled but really, it was a matter of life and death at this point. And it was in her best interest to go ahead and bring me the coffee. If I had died, she would have been stuck with my kids for who knows how long. Brewing the coffee and packing the kids up to come down the street and deliver it was the right choice. I mean, did you see my Ode to Coffee post?

*it's way more embarrassing t o be the wife of the stinky person than to actually be the stinky person. Plus, I work with kids. They always stink worse.

Paularino

We have this friend, Paul, who we've known for probably forever (realistically 9 years or so) and he's one of these really cool, understated guys. He's always in the background, helps with video and sound stuff at church and is just cool.

His real name is Paul but I took to calling him Paularino after the street my dad's business was off of when I was a little girl. The connection there? There isn't one. I had just been waiting my all my life to that point for someone to call "Paularino". Sad and weird, I know.

Anyway, Paul's young but he's lived a lot of life to this point. Some of it good and a lot really not so good. I bumped into him a few days ago (despite "seeing" him each week at church) and got to talking to him. He's got all this really great stuff on the horizon and it makes me happy. The one that makes me sit and actually type out a post is his band. We've always known he was a talented guy and that music was big for him but we weren't ever really clear on what he was doing with it. So (Get to the point Wordy McWordyton!) come to find out that he's got this band and they've been playing shows and they have a demo CD. He gives me one and I listen to it on the way home. I haven't stopped listening to it and it's been days and days. We love it! Man, it's so cool to see the talents that some are given come to fruition. We're the types to share what we love so here it is. Listen and check it out. It's awesome stuff and I think we're pretty much the king and queen of the Paularino/Modern Subject Fan Club. Applications for membership can go through us. :)

Want some new cool tunes? Check it!
http://www.myspace.com/modernsubject

Dear Pink Baby,

I want to write to you so that even the smallest details of your life are recorded so that you know how much we loved you as a baby.

Tonight, as you slept peacefully, your father snuck into your room and farted loudly into the baby monitor so that I got the scare of my life while washing dishes in the kitchen next to the speaker.

I apologize.
Love,
your mother

Story time

I love story time. It's mellow, the boys laugh and snuggle in with their dad, and I get a chance to catch my breath.

When did children's book authors become so great? This is what I heard from the couch just now:

My older sister thinks she's so pretty. I told her that no matter how much time she spends looking in the mirror, her face will always look just like her rear end." -Diary of a Worm

How many times have you wanted to say that to someone?

Walk, don't run.

or crawl, even.

What is it about the third kid that makes them grow and develop in fast motion? I think the elapsed time between learning to crawl, then walk, and now run is like a nanosecond and I fear she will be riding a bike and driving by the end of the week. The oldest was 15 months before he showed us that he knew how to walk (I say this because we set him down to get him to take a few steps one night and he took off all over the apartment and never stopped). The middlest walked somewhere between 12 and 13 months and the pink baby has been walking for a few weeks already.

I was reminded quickly how much I hate this stage. Yeah, it's cute that she's wants to toddle all over the place with the drunken-sailor swagger and Frankenstein arms. But really, it's a nightmare because she wants down ALL THE TIME. And you know, sometimes it's just not safe or convenient even to have a one year old cruising the area. And the level of sass she's already exuding and the screeching (oh the screeching!) make the matter worse.

The routine goes something like this:
*Pick PB (pink baby) up
*She arches her back
*She screeches
*She wiggles
*I loose my balance

*More arching and screeching
*I give in and set her down
*She laughs and runs away
*I remember that she's only one and smile
*I realize that, Dear Lord! SHE'S ONLY ONE! and I have years and years of this to go.
*I hold back tears and suppress the panic attack.
*and pick her up... wash, rinse, repeat.