Little Sib at 8 wks gestation

I made this!

I made this! I made it! Oops, that didn't work. Look, Mommy, I made it with the tire.

We're going to the zoo, zoo, zoo...

Mommy's taking us to the zoo tomorrow...

Watching the construction on the way to the Metro

Don't get too near the huff-puff-a-puffin'

Great big ears and a long trunk swingin' 

And we can stay all day.

Sittin' in the car gettin' sleep, sleep, sleepy...

Still clutching his "Zookies."

Mommy, I want to be...

Yes, I know what you are thinking. In most circumstances, I'd agree. There is little with less snob value than NOVELTY YARN, and in a great many cases it does produce a "please step away from the needles" end result.

But Halloween is coming.

And in an effort to teach my Santa-obsessed child that there are holidays worth getting excited over that are not Christmas, I am working on Ian's Halloween costume. So far, about 80% of the time, he wants to be Splat the Cat.

So that's where we're headed- A Splat the Cat Hat. (Insert Dr. Seuss joke here.) I am holding some black eyelash yarn double with some black Impeccable, and I'm working 3 stitches to the inch on 6 mm circular needles. I cast on 54 stitches for my three year old, or 18" around. I'll begin the decreases after 4.5" of stockinette.

Stay tuned for the ears, eyes, and tail.

ZOOM!

This is Ian during the "Zoom Around the Room" class he'll be taking on Thursday afternoons for a few weeks.

The teacher reported that he walked up to the large structure in the middle of the room with a hole in it and asked, "what is this? a trash can?" went away and played, then came back and told her, "I will throw myself away!" and jumped into the hole in the middle.

Needless to say, he really enjoyed this class and is looking forward to the next one.

My two favorite guys

On the way to drop Daddy off this morning.

The Pirate Fairy

I asked my son if he could find any pirate things for a pirate costume.  This is what he came up with.

I now really would love to know what, in his mind, a pirate does, because it seems it is a beautiful thing.

You Look Like An Angel, But I Got Wise

Abandon ship! It's every man for himself!

Between the automatic flush mechanisms most of them sport and the ever so much more fascinating things going on outside them, it's not unusual for Ian to refuse to go potty in public restrooms.  Today, in fact, was such a day.  He was having trouble walking he was trying to "hold it" so hard.  And Mommy foolishly, oh SO foolishly, insisted it was time to go to the bathroom.

You'll be needing that fire truck, bucko.

Please take note of this moment, for in it was authored Mommy's Waterloo.  Trust me, I went down in flames.  Big, hot, scary ones.  I promise you, from now on, I will just let him wet his pants.  And if there doesn't happen to be an acceptable change of clothing on board, or if his shoes are so full of pee that we have to evacuate, I'll rest easy in the knowledge that it could be so much worse.

MAYDAY! MAYDAY! We're going down!

He cried all the way to the bathroom, insisting he didn't have to go.  He was clutching my hand in his right hand, and his penis with his left.  Pardon me for not believing him.  If only, OH IF ONLY I had said, "Oh, okay then!" and let him keep playing.  But no, I just continued to usher him to the restroom while repeating encouraging things about how much better he'd feel after he went.  (Lies, if only I'd known.)

It wasn't all bad.

Guess who's tall enough to reach the overhead bars now?

We arrived at the restroom with my child now shrieking that he did NOT have to go potty.  I'm talking about those "I would like the ground to open and swallow me so all the people staring at us will not realize I am your mother" type shrieking.  Of course, he was also crossing his legs and bending double, so again, I allowed this opportunity to escape my fate pass me by.  Instead, I helped him off with his shoes and continued to be encouraging as I got his pants halfway down.

Friends will rescue you after the shipwreck

At this point, still shrieking "I DO NOT HAVE TO GO POTTY!" over and over and over and OVER again, my son began to urinate.  I am still amazed that a 30 pound person is capable of containing this much urine. It was unbelievable.  Picture an out of control fire hose with no one to turn it off.  He peed on the walls.  He peed on his pants, his boots, the snack bag, Mommy's water cup, Mommy's leg, and Mommy's foot.  He peed on the floor.  He may have, purely by accident, hit the toilet once or twice.  At about the point where he peed down my leg, I lost it.  Suddenly, I was the one shrieking those "if only the ground would swallow me" embarrassments.  "IAN!  THIS IS WHY WE DO NOT TRY TO HOLD IT!  YES, I CAN TELL YOU DON'T NEED TO GO POTTY!  THAT'S WHY YOU'RE GOING POTTY ALL OVER THE WALLS!"  At which point Ian switched from screaming, "I DO NOT HAVE TO GO POTTY" to "MOMMY! I AM HAVING AN ACCIDENT!"  Sadly, Mommy did not calm down and respond to this declaration appropriately.  Instead, I screamed back, "YOU ARE D**N RIGHT YOU ARE HAVING AN ACCIDENT!"

Obviously at this point I was well able to identify not only that I had lost it, but that this was all my own fault.  I sat my half naked, wailing child on the bench while I ran all our pee-soaked belongings under the sink faucet.  Then I carried him, still half naked, along with an additional 15 pounds of urine soaked STUFF to the car.  Thankfully there was an appropriate change of clothing for him in there, and just as thankfully he had only peed on the outside of his shoes, because as soon as I'd changed him into clean clothing I frog-marched him to my nearest friend and told her I needed her to take him for 10 minutes so I could get my s*** together.  Okay, I didn't use that word in front of the kids, but she knew I was thinking it.  Then I went back to the restroom where I was, at least, spared having anyone witness the coup de grace of my humiliation- me standing at the sink in my underpants while I washed pee out of my jeans.

Clear sailing again at last

So, just in case you're wondering, the other 23 hours and 55 minutes of this day were beautiful.  Ian was charming, sweet, polite, and adorable.  He said "excuse me" when he walked in front of another patron at the store without being prompted.  He had a nice lunch and a lovely afternoon with Rama and Raba.  He loved running around the "road" at the playground.   So Mommy isn't fired after all.

Sunrise

Big Mister took Little Mister to see the sunrise from the steps of the Alexandria Masonic Temple today. He sent back this photo.

I get by with a little...

Oh, if only every place we went could have a sandbox the size of our dining room.  The little man is in hog heaven every Sunday because our church has just such a sandbox.  He never, ever, ever wants to leave.

Today he was busily figuring out exactly how much sand he could put in the bucket before he couldn't lift it any more.  Then he'd pour some out, and empty the rest into the wheelbarrow.  Pretty soon, he was figuring out how much sand you could put in the wheelbarrow before you couldn't push it any more.  (The wheels get stuck, you see.)

He did a lot of interactive play in the sandbox, too.  Asking a friend for help when the bucket was too full.  Offering to help make a hole deeper.  Working together to figure out how to free the wheelbarrow when it was stuck.  It was really a profound reflection on problem solving.

This is too big for me.  Perhaps a friend could help.
This is too slow.  I should find a friend. 
This isn't working out like I thought.  I'll find a friend.
This all fell apart and I have to put it back.  A friend is just what I need.

World leaders should take note.

Little Man With A Plan

Here is the little guy after he very intentionally and precisely rearranged every little chair in the children's section. When I asked, he said, "I just need to have a plan, Mommy. Let me finish my plan."

"Sorry, Mommy!"

So, we were barely two hours into our second Daddy-less weekend IN A ROW and I was doing something incredibly unimportant while not watching my son.  You know, something like going to the bathroom or fixing his dinner.  It's all a blur.  And I hear from another room, "Sorry, Mommy," followed by a pause in which Mommy did not answer and then, louder, "I'm REALLY sorry, Mommy."

Hmm, this seemed like such a good idea at the time.
Why WOULDN'T Mommy want this wagon in her bed?

So I answered, "Yes, honey, I understand you are sorry."  Ian was apparently reassured by this response because he promptly appeared in front of me and made no further reference to the incident until he went to bed.  At which point Busy Mommy started trying to Get Things Done, still wondering what had prompted the "Sorry Mommy" episode.

Well, now we know. In case you are wondering, the last time I'd seen my room, the bed was tidily made up.  It was, at that time, accessorized with one fairly large, dedicated Daddy who got up at 5 am to spend time with his son before his trip and then decided to catch a quick morning nap before the long drive.  So I wasn't expecting to find my room exactly as I'd left it, but I can tell you I wasn't expecting what I did find.

Whoops, guess that thing was full of sand... uh, "Sorry Mommy!"

 For all our sakes, I hope I can see the funny side of this by 5:00 tomorrow morning.

Loving Hands

Ian and his pals made this project today in class:

"This is a pencil."

(and it was.)

Towing

In Ian's universe, a tow truck can pull a truck five times its size.  Love it!

All This for $1!

Great Grandma Gray would be proud.  On the way home from Ian's firstest ever swim lesson today, we kept passing yard sales in our neighborhood.  No surprise- it's a beautiful day and at this time of year who knows how many more gorgeous Saturdays there will be? Every time we passed one, Ian would point out the window and say, "Find somewhere to park yours car, Mommy.  I want to get out."

We finally got home and he said, "Mommy, I want to go shopping."  So we grabbed the little red wagon and went to a couple of the yard sales in the neighborhood.  For a grand total expenditure of $1, we brought home a mint condition, hardcover copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, two race cars, and a plastic work bench.  What can I say, the little dude drives a hard bargain. 

(PS- The swim lesson was a don't ask/don't tell kind of experience.  I wish I had a photo for you of him squatting by the side of the pool, his face streaked with tears, yelling that he wanted to go home while all the other kids had fun in the water.  Good times.  Of course, as soon as we got dressed when the lesson was over, he announced that he wanted to go back.)

The world's lowest quality educational aide

Well, what was I supposed to do? The kid asked me "Where is October, Mommy?"

I thought surely some better artist than I would have thought of this, created a nice version, and have posted it on the internet SOMEWHERE, but no. So hear me, those of you with even the smallest smidgen of artistic ability: design a calendar wheel and sticker set for the Gregorian Calendar. Make it cute. Make it colorful, laminated, and sturdy, and I'll totally buy that off you. In fact, I'll set it up to sell on the Joy Troupe website.

Seriously, just look at me trying to draw "in like a lion, out like a lamb" for my kid. Take my $10 and spare me the embarrassment.

My new bed is here!

We've been talking to Ian about his "new bed" for a while now.  The original plan was for Santa to bring it, but it turns out there were some good Labor Day sales, so it has arrived a bit early.  He's been going back and forth between being excited about his new bed and telling me he does not want a new bed.

At least, he was until we told him a big truck would deliver his new bed.  He ran into my study every five minutes all day yelling, "My new bed is here!" Finally, he was right.  The truck with his new bed had arrived.  The delivery guys set it up in about five minutes flat.  In fact, it took longer to put the new sheets on than it did for them to unload and set it up.

The minute Ian climbed aboard, he declared, "Wait! I need a book!" He got down to get one and then remembered.  "No, wait, I need all my animals first!"

"Wait for me to clear the animals and come on on the bed, Mommy!"

2010-09-09 Ian's New Bed

Urchin

Apparently my darling son found the chocolate syrup this morning before I got up.  Here he is, in the midst of explaining to me that "These teeth are all my baby teeth."

Learning at the Farmer's Market

"M&Ms have letters. But they are for eating, not for playing."

And, an update on the Christmas Tree Query.  Mommy got a 4' artificial tree from Freecycle.org, which we are looking forward to decorating with our friends this year.  Ian was carrying part of it around this morning when I overheard this conversation:

Daddy: Ian, what are you doing?
Ian: I'm breaking ground here.
Daddy:  That's a bad idea.
Ian: Well, I'm just trying to plant this tree.

Mommy interjected at this point to request that we please not either break ground OR plant any trees inside the actual house.

Knit Night

Everything's better with babies.

Where's our Christmas Tree?

Ian: Mommy, where's our Christmas tree?
Mommy: Right now? Growing in the ground somewhere.
Ian: Let's go and check on it.

Could I *be* having any more fun?

Plums, ice cream, honey, and lemonade at the Farmer's Market.