Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Blrrrrrrrrr...
Like I said he was a blur once we made it into the classroom. These were the only pictures we got that weren't of the back of his head.
On the way to school 
Yes, we have to take a picture of everything. Its in the genes - just ask all your grandmas.
What a listener?! If only he listened this well at home.
A Smile from Ear to Ear
Big Brother started preschool today and in a lot of ways. It felt like I was starting preschool. I was the one who was anxious, the one who couldn't sleep at night - although that could have also been because the Bee kept waking up crying-, and I was the one who was hesitant to have us apart.
I envisioned many tears, screams, whining, kicking, and a few swear words tossed around - by him, not me of course. I am sorry to say I have little drama to report. He went in, put a hard hat on, and started playing. No real action or drama to report. We left with nothing more than a quick kiss, and a big goodbye.
We went to pick him up after a few hours of clock watching expecting to hear one horror story after another from his teacher, and a boy who would run to his family as if he hadn't seen them in years. Instead, he was sitting on the carpet in the very front listening to his teacher read a story, and occasionally interjecting with his many brilliant ideas and comments. When he finally saw us at the door, he smiled and waved, and went back to listening to the story and putting in his two cents. Totally what I hoped for, but nothing what I imagined. The teacher had nothing to report except that our little caveman kept taking his shoes off at the playground.
When questioned later about his day, he did admit to using a naughty word or two, and maybe perhaps pushing a boy - figures. When asked if he missed us he simply replied, "no". How's that for love?
I envisioned many tears, screams, whining, kicking, and a few swear words tossed around - by him, not me of course. I am sorry to say I have little drama to report. He went in, put a hard hat on, and started playing. No real action or drama to report. We left with nothing more than a quick kiss, and a big goodbye.
We went to pick him up after a few hours of clock watching expecting to hear one horror story after another from his teacher, and a boy who would run to his family as if he hadn't seen them in years. Instead, he was sitting on the carpet in the very front listening to his teacher read a story, and occasionally interjecting with his many brilliant ideas and comments. When he finally saw us at the door, he smiled and waved, and went back to listening to the story and putting in his two cents. Totally what I hoped for, but nothing what I imagined. The teacher had nothing to report except that our little caveman kept taking his shoes off at the playground.
When questioned later about his day, he did admit to using a naughty word or two, and maybe perhaps pushing a boy - figures. When asked if he missed us he simply replied, "no". How's that for love?
A New Look for a New Year
Birthday ready!(Daddy really just wasn't a fan of the whole mullet look. I personally miss playing with his long soft baby hair.)
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Don't Touch My Hair!
When my oldest son was about 8 months, he started to play with my hair while he nursed. At the time, I thought this was cute. Three and a half years later he still likes to play with my hair whenever he needs some comforting or wants to go to bed. Now, he does it while sucking vigorously at his thumb.
It's not so cute anymore! He yanks, and twirls, and pulls those fine little hairs above my neck and snags just enough to send chills running down my body followed by a loud Ouch! I don't like it when you, Big Brother do this anywhere. To quote Dr. Seuss - Not in the chair, or on the couch, not in the bed, or while eating bread, I don't want my hair pulled anywhere! I don't like my hair pulled Big Brother you are. Oh ya, and don't forget to mention this to Sam the Bee. He has mastered the art of hair pulling at the tender age of 11 months.
Disclaimer: In no way am I really trying to imitate Dr. Seuss. I am not that good.
It's not so cute anymore! He yanks, and twirls, and pulls those fine little hairs above my neck and snags just enough to send chills running down my body followed by a loud Ouch! I don't like it when you, Big Brother do this anywhere. To quote Dr. Seuss - Not in the chair, or on the couch, not in the bed, or while eating bread, I don't want my hair pulled anywhere! I don't like my hair pulled Big Brother you are. Oh ya, and don't forget to mention this to Sam the Bee. He has mastered the art of hair pulling at the tender age of 11 months.
Disclaimer: In no way am I really trying to imitate Dr. Seuss. I am not that good.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
It's a Poo-filled Day
It's a poo-filled day, but it turning out to be a poo-filled week. My youngest has had diarrhea for the past three days, and this morning we all woke up to it in the bed. Another reason the family bed doesn't work so well for me anymore. Poo on the sheets, on him, on my arm, and daddy will be happy to know, Bee favored his pillow for soaking most of the poo up. Not the way I wanted to wake up this morning after not getting any sleep again last night.
Of course, I thought I was going to be able to get away with just washing the sheets and not the mattress pad, since after all, I did have a waterproof crib cover under the sheets. Nope. It had moved its way south of the bed, and the poo made it just next to it, but not on it, sooo helpful. This means two loads of laundry, and not just one. Trekking my way outside, down our long unstable path to our detached garage, through the heat and mosquitoes twice -way more if your account for switching loads into the dryer to avoid the mildew stink. This all brings new meaning to waking up on the wrong side of the bed, because this morning it meant waking up in yellow poo or staying clean. I woke up in poo. I'm not sure I want to know what this foretells about the rest of my day.
Of course, I thought I was going to be able to get away with just washing the sheets and not the mattress pad, since after all, I did have a waterproof crib cover under the sheets. Nope. It had moved its way south of the bed, and the poo made it just next to it, but not on it, sooo helpful. This means two loads of laundry, and not just one. Trekking my way outside, down our long unstable path to our detached garage, through the heat and mosquitoes twice -way more if your account for switching loads into the dryer to avoid the mildew stink. This all brings new meaning to waking up on the wrong side of the bed, because this morning it meant waking up in yellow poo or staying clean. I woke up in poo. I'm not sure I want to know what this foretells about the rest of my day.
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