Welcoming Spring in our Special Way

It was actually gorgeous today.

So we pulled our picnic stuff and headed out to the park.

From March 2012

Ahhh, lunch outside and a playground. Perfection.

From March 2012

From March 2012

From March 2012

The thing is, I had forgotten when you have a toddler, you can not SIT at the park. It's constant chasing, removing rocks from mouth, making sure they don't fall off the playground equipment, etc. It's tiring. Fun. But tiring.

Then: DRAMA

Oliver, my newest potty-learner had to tinkle. OF COURSE HE DID.

No matter, we'll just hop on over to the bathrooms.

WAIT, the doors were locked.

What the what?

So, Henry and Spencer schooled Oliver in whizzing on trees.

O-man was very reluctant at first. But once he removed his shoes, pants and underwear entirely, he found great success.

From March 2012

We then had a talk about when going potty outside is appropriate and when it isn't. I'm absolutely certain he heard none of it and there will be much #1ing on things from here on out.

Happy spring!

A possibly inappropriate post

***Disclaimer*** I have no idea why poop and other such inappropriate fodder has made it's way onto my little corner of the interwebs with such frequency of late, but hey, it's my life. 

Our kids have learned "proper terminology" for all things "body related." We have our reasons for teaching them the words as they are,  and I won't bore you with the details.

Suffice it to say, my kids call it like it is.

So, the other morning, I left a diapered, unclothed little Ezra on my bed to run save Oliver from some sort of life-threatening situation (as nearly two-year-olds tend to find themselves in) and when I returned, Spencer had wandered it. Ezra was giggling with as much force as an almost-four-month-old could. Spencer, too was enjoying a hearty chuckle.

"What's up, Dude?" I asked Spencer.

Spencer looked perfectly angelic when he said, "I'm tickling Ezra!"

"Oh yeah?" I queried. Great, gently playing with the baby is ALWAYS encouraged.

"Yeah," answered Spencer. "I'm pinching his breast-es like this..." and then proceed to pinch little Ezra's baby man boob.

And Ezra LOVED it.

I simply requested that Spencer not pinch.

Breast-es don't like to be pinched.

JUST SAY NO

I am avoiding changing Oliver's diaper right this minute. I can't leave it for toooo long because um it's gross, but still. He is STINKY!

When we went grocery shopping the other day (remember, it is an EPIC FAMILY OUTING), the boys decided they missed having cereal for breakfast. Whatever, fine by me. So both Henry and Spencer voted for Strawberry Shredded Wheat.

GREAT! No problem! Healthier than many other options! BEAUTIFUL.

Have you ever given that high a dosage of fiber to children who have ZERO issues with constipation?

I don't recommend it.

Between the three of them, they have trotted off to the pot/dirtied diapers more than I care to admit.

It's gross.

I have to go change Oliver.

JUST SAY NO to SHREDDED WHEAT!

More Blackmail

My poor sweet Henry. Oh how he'll hate me for putting this on the internet for ALL the WORLD to READ forever!

Tonight, we were having dinner with my family (some of them were not present) at a fantastic restaurant that I wish I lived at.

ANYWAY...

My sister was making a bottle for her little-itty-bitty, and Henry got all hot and bothered.

"No! NO! You have to NURSE him!!" demanded my five-year-old. "That's what mommies do!" He was very determined.

"Well," said my ever-patient sister. "Some mommies do, but mine are broken!" she said. It's true. She's not lying. Oh the pain that girl endured...

ANYWAY!

Henry wasn't buying this story. "NO! You still have breast-es!"

Guys, he said it REALLY loud. Like almost shouting.

And we all began to laugh and laugh and laugh until we cried.

The End.

I am the Best Wife EVER!

Just in case you were wondering.

So, today, in a snow storm we were out and about looking for a very specific something: Tart Cherry Juice to be exact. It was 100% necessary otherwise I wouldn't be going out in a snow storm.

Unfortunately, nowhere in our entire city seemed to carry it. So, we headed to a neighboring town and FINALLY found it. By then the children were sick to death of being in the car and begging for some freedom. And look-y there, a McDonald's with a play place. We *might* have spent two hours there, waiting out the storm.

About an hour into our little visit, I realized that Oliver was in cloth diaper, and had been for about three hours. This is severely pushing the capabilities of a cloth diaper. I didn't HAVE any other diapers with me. (I wasn't planning on being gone all freaking morning!)

I had Ez in the sling, so I just instructed Derek to check and see HOW wet he was. There was a Wal-mart right across the street. If he was soaked I would simply send Derek over to grab a small pack of disposables. NO BIG DEAL.

Well, Derek wasn't really sure the best way to discreetly see HOW wet a cloth diaper is. Truthfully, it is usually I who checks and instructs if a change is warranted. But I didn't feel like bending over. Ezra was dead asleep in the sling, and Derek was right there, ready to be helpful.

"Just stick a finger in the BACK of his diaper. If it's wet that means the whole diaper is soaked and he needs a change. If it's dry, then he can make it home," I command.

Derek, being the ever fantastic husband, did exactly as I instructed.

And quickly, a look of utter horror washed over his face.

"Oh, oops. Is he poopy? I forgot about that possibility!" I said nonchalantly.

And indeed, proof of the state of Oliver's diaper on Derek's fingers. Yes, plural. Like I said, Oops. Neither one of us had entertained a poopy possibility.

I had sent my poor husband on a suicide mission.

I am the best wife EVER! And Derek went and washed his hands and went off to the Walmart across the street. He bought a LARGE box of disposable diapers to store in the car.

I should have just done that in the first place. Or maybe actually BRING a diaper along with me.

Man, I am awesome.