Yes, interwebs, I am 5

Well, at any rate Ella keeps on telling me I'm five. Which I guess when you are two is pretty ancient. She also has told me she doesn't like the lines in my forehead. Thanks, kiddo, guess I'll be taking the money from your college fund and getting Botox.

Anyway, this post has more to do with my incredibly immature sense of humor.

This past weekend, Jim noticed that the caulking on the bathtub had been shoddily done. We had a boring conversation about him replacing it. Nothing untoward about discussing caulk in front of the kids, right?

Monday rolls around and I'm getting Ella ready for school. I head out to the garage to put her backpack and such in the car. The kids dutifully trot out after me, Ella talking a mile a minute about this and that. Now, I'll back this up for a second and mention that Ella has some speech troubles so words don't always come out crystal clear. Thus why I hear my little two year old yell, "Marian! Stop! We don't touch Daddy's cock!"

In true Ella fashion, once she starts talking about a subject she won't shut up. The ten minute drive to school was filled with all sorts of details about "Daddy's cock." Including but not limited to the fact that Daddy's cock was broken and he had to go to the store to buy a new one. And that Daddy's old cock was red but now he has a new white cock.

Whoever said parenting wasn't fricking hilarious?

Another post about my toddler saying ridiculous things

Here's another installment of sh*t my toddler says, courtesy of Ella.

Running dialogue in the car: "Marian, STOP. Marian, don't pinch me. Mama doesn't like that when her is driving. Mama is VERY disappointed in you. When we get home you get an X for making bad choices." Gotta be the boss of someone, right? Even if it's your baby sister who is napping. You will respect my authority! (Bonus points if you get that reference.)

"This is my forehead and this is my hair head. Mama you have a forehead and a hair head too." What about Daddy and Marian? "They just has foreheads." Sorry, baldies. 

Upon explaining that certain clothes are now too small for Marian: "That's okay, she can wear it when she turns back into a baby."

When Jim told her the pizza dough needed to rest: "No, I think the pizza dough just wants to have some quiet time."

After accidentally dumping her water in my lap: "Don't worry, Mama, it'll dry." Thanks kid. I love being soaked all the way through to my underwear before 8am. 

Some recent Ella-isms

Toddlers say some pretty hilarious things. Must be some evolutionary adaptation because otherwise the near-constant whining and tantrums would ensure their demise. Here are a few funnies from our house.

-When Ella was being incredibly cranky, I told her, "Ella, you must have put on your cranky pants this morning." She vehemently insisted that she did not- along with the accompanying foot stamp. "I do not have on my cranky pants! I only has on my undies today!"

-She knows she has two different feet. One is the right foot. Naturally, the other is the wrong foot.

-She's very into categorizing anything and everything. Often on our car rides she will start naming everyone she knows and whether they are a big or little boy, big or little girl, or a baby. When I asked her what Mommy was. "You are NOT a girl." Oh really? "You are just a grownup." Apparently all adults are androgynous.

-On a similar note, she will list off all her friends and their siblings. "Haggy* has a baby brudder named Grant, Eeef has a baby brudder named Liam, James is getting a baby sister..." I'll ask her what she has. She will dramatically sigh and say, "I just has a Marian."

-One night at dinner Jim told me I looked very pretty. Ella piped up, "I'm not pretty." Of course my heart sank and I asked her what she was then, praying at two she wouldn't be saying ugly. Nope. She responded, "I'm just pretty whiny." Can't argue with that.

-Her bedtime prayer is, in my humble opinion, pretty hilarious. Jim and I have a hard time keeping ourselves from laughing. "In the name of the Father-Son-Shoulder Shoulder Not Chin Not Knees. Dear God, please bless Mommy, Daddy, Marian, Ella, my boys**, and my baby dolls. Help us to grow up to be good and kind and strong and smart. Please bless Grandma, Grampy, my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and our great cousins. Keep us all safe and well. Amen."


*Even though we have met some kids with strange names, we don't have friends named Haggy or Eeef- that's just how she pronounces them.

**Her imaginary friends, The Boys. According to Ella they are the size of her thumb. They get into a lot of mischief and like to hide in strange places, like my mouth, bra, or "arm-tits."

The moon incident

I have a special talent as a parent. It seems I have a knack for taking everyday items and turning them into objects of terror for my toddler. Like the moon.

The other evening, Ella started to show a lot of interest in the moon. I thought it was a great learning opportunity. I talked to her about it. We looked at pictures in an old issue of National Geographic. I let her watch some neat little video clips NASA had produced. As the grand finale to this little lesson, I took her outside to look at the moon. She went off to bed rattling off the facts she had learned. I was one proud mama.

Fast forward to 4:30am. We woke up to her screaming bloody murder. All Jim could get out of her was, "Moon up high. Moon very scary."

Yes, I somehow ruined the moon for my toddler. If anyone can explain to me how I managed to do this, I will buy you a drink.

Proud parenting moments

Two parenting moments from the past few days that have made me think, "Yep, we're definitely doing this right."

1. Ella woke up from her nap on Sunday. She came downstairs, looked at Jim's empty beer glass, and told him repeatedly, "Get more beer." He was happy to oblige.

2. This morning she farted. It was loud and very obvious. She looks at me and said, "George fart." Rule #1 of being a girl- always pass the blame on your farts. I have taught her well.

Apparently I am the world's worst mom

What makes me say that? Three incidents from today:

1. This morning Ella asked me to draw her a giraffe. I obliged. She took one look at my crappy drawing, took the crayon away from me, and told me, "No color mama."

2. When I got her up from her nap, she told me she wanted Laura (her babysitter) instead. Because Laura is fun and doesn't draw her crappy giraffes.

3. Shortly after the second incident of inadequate mothering, she informed me my shoes stink.

I'm looking forward to hearing the many other ways my toddler thinks I suck as a mom.

Truly effective birth control

People wonder what is the best way to keep teenagers from having unprotected sex. I think I hit on the perfect solution.

Make every teenager watch a video of my toddler throwing a tantrum for 30 minutes straight. (Why the epic meltdown? Because I dared to suggest she perhaps needed a clean diaper before going to library story time.)

The video will be captioned, "Forget about catching the clap. THIS is what you will have to deal with if you have unprotected sex."

I predict teenage birth rates will take a nose dive after being subjected to that ordeal.

Then, just to make the message sink in, I will make them listen to Raffi for 24 hours straight.

Lullaby

Before Ella goes off to bed each night, I read her a story and Jim sings her a song. The other night, he asked me for a song suggestion. I jokingly told him, "I don't know. Maybe a song about farts since she has been so gassy all day?"

Next thing I know, he is singing a melodic, lullaby version of "Beans, beans, the magical fruit" while Ella cuddled up against him. I had to leave the room because I was laughing so hard.

Perhaps in the future I'll leave the song selection up to him.

Hmmm, I guess I need to explain a little better

I've been trying to explain to Ella about the new baby. I brought out the doppler this morning and said to her,  "You hear that? That's the baby!" She clapped her hands and blew kisses. It was incredibly sweet and I was amazed she grasped what I was saying.

Until I asked if she could give the new baby a hug. I thought she would hug my belly, as we've been trying to teach her that's where the baby is right now.

Instead, she grabbed the doppler and cuddled it to her chest.

I guess I am not doing as good of a job explaining as I thought.

On the plus side, I bet she thinks her new baby brother or sister is pretty neat.

The poop rule (yes, I am writing about poop)

There seems to be a special rule that applies to kids and poop. After many months of careful examination, I think I have finally figured it out. The toddler poop rule goes something like this: 

-If Mommy or Daddy is sitting there patiently waiting for you to poop on the toilet, then don't go. Give it about fifteen minutes. They will eventually sigh and give up. Then, once your diaper is back on, run and hide behind the couch. Then, and only then, may you poop. 

-If they are able to manage to get you to poop on the toilet, don't go entirely. Just do a little bit and triumphantly yell, "Done!" Then, once you have lulled your parents into thinking that they have escaped from cleaning up a poopy diaper that day, go squat in a corner and finish your business. 

-The most opportune time to poop is when Mommy or Daddy is trying to get you ready to head out somewhere. Preferably when they are already running late. This is also the ideal time to have a blow-out. 

-If for some reason your Mommy is too tired to take you out in public that day, hold it all in patiently until dinnertime. 

-Another ideal place to go is in the car. Bonus points if you are on a road trip and there is no where to pull off for the next 40 miles. 

-If Mommy or Daddy asks you if you need to poop, the answer is always an emphatic "no." 

Why my child should never, ever have sugar

This morning Ella and I stopped by a bakery so I could order her birthday cake for Friday (!). The shop owner was very nice, and offered us a complementary cupcake to sample while I discussed the details of the cake.

At the time, it seemed like a fantastic idea to let her have some of the cupcake, a lovely reward for having to come along with me to set up utilities and do other boring grown-up stuff. I broke off a bite of cupcake for her. Her face lit up. I let her have a few more bites. The sweet little smile turned into a maniacal grin as the sugar hit her system.

To make a not-so-interesting portion of this story short, we left the shop covered in cupcake. I honestly don't know how. I consumed at least half of it and Ella ate a ton, so I'm not sure how an entire cake's worth of frosting and smashed up cupcake got into my clothes, her clothes, her hair, even into my car keys.

We went back to the hotel, where she proceeded to run around with some sort of super-human energy. The dogs huddled under the coffee table in fear. At one point she literally tried to climb up the wall.

Then she discovered the dirty laundry basket, and pulled out a t-shirt and bra. She proceeded to run around some more, holding aloft her new-found treasures like a toddler war-trophy, all while shrieking at the top of her lungs.

Needless to say, I am rethinking my original plan of doing birthday cake after dinner.

30 Days of Thanks: Day Five

As with any job, being a stay at home mom means you get some good days, and then you get some craptastic days. Today would be one of the latter. I woke up to muddy paw prints all over my clean kitchen floor (thanks dogs), and the day went downhill from there. By lunchtime I was already battling a massive headache, which was not helped by Ella's three-hour long impersonation of a banshee.

Enter Jim's armpits. Yes, you read that right. This afternoon, he had to go get the drug test that's required of all new employees. They needed a hair sample, and apparently to obtain the necessary amounts of hairs, they had to partially shave his armpits. Whoever did it did the world's worst job. You would think that the armpit-shaver would have simply done the entire thing. Instead, they left little random tufts of hair. Perhaps this makes me a bad wife, or an overly tired one, but I find this to be hilarious.

To whoever gave me this fantastic gift tonight, I thank you, for making my crummy day a little better, and for making me remember that while I may have to put up with a lot, at least my job does not involve shaving strangers' armpits.