Mine mine mine, all mine

touch a truck...or two...or three

On Saturday, we went downtown to the Saturday Market, which this time was featuring a Touch-A-Truck display. Touch-A-Truck is just what it sounds like - a bunch of trucks that kids can touch, sit on, climb on, lick...you know, whatever those crazy kids wanna do.

Drew, like most boys his age, is fascinated by big trucks. If it's large and yellow and has big tires, it's a "dig-dirt" and it's the most wonderful thing he's ever seen. His friend Alex is so obsessed that he actually knows all their proper names, like excavator and backhoe and such. If it's large and it's yellow and has big tires AND it has flashing lights, well, color Drew died and gone to heaven.

So, obviously, he was a big fan of Touch-A-Truck.

Here he is standing in the bucket of what I think is an excavator. Alex's dad told me what it was, but I've since forgotten the subtle difference between the excavator and the backhoe.

Here he is "driving" the excavator. He sat up there and sang that infernal "I dig dirt" song about 50 times, not caring in the least about the line of antsy children waiting behind him.

Drew and his friend Brandon explored the fire truck together, stopping every so often to hug each other and then run away laughing.

And then Drew and Brandon hopped in the police car together, where the nice police officer let them sound the siren, over and over and over again. I hope he was getting paid lots of  overtime to sit and listen to a bunch of preschoolers wail that siren non-stop.

I asked Drew what a police car does, and he said, "Catches the bad guys!"

After watching our children fondle all the trucks, Alex and Brandon and Drew all went to Sticky Fingers for lunch. (Of course, I and their parents accompanied them.)  I ordered Drew a hot dog and mac-n-cheese, of which he ate approximately 1.5 bites of the pasta and nibbled at a corner of the hot dog bun. I swear I don't know how that boy is staying alive.

And, apropos of absolutely nothing, I've decided to include some pictures I took when we got home, so you can all see how pretty my flowers are. Look - I can plant stuff in the ground and it actually grows! Of course, before I bought them I perused the Better Homes & Gardens website to find plants that were classified as "drought-resistant", which really should read, "They'll live even if you are neglectful and lazy and never water them."

Saturday afternoon, my copy of the last Harry Potter book arrived. I'm halfway through it so far (it's hard to read when you have an almost-three-year-old constantly demanding your attention and obviously not understanding the importance of finding out whether Snape is really evil or not) and I brought it to work with me so I should make some good headway on it during my lunch break.

Simon does NOT say

Yesterday after work, I went to pick up Drew at his daycare, as usual. This time, he was deeply involved in a game of "Simon Says", led by his teacher Miss Jessica. You remember the game - Simon Says stand up, Simon Says sit down, Simon Says touch your nose...

Anyway, he was so enamored of this game that he didn't really want to leave, and continued to tell me most of the way home that he wanted to "Simon Says" again. OK, OK, I told him, we can play it when we get home.

So later that evening, after dinner, we were playing trucks and trains in the living room. I needed to put his pajamas on him, so I told him to stand up.

He shook his head 'no' and continued to putt-putt about the floor with his trucks.

"Drew," I said patiently. "Stand up and let's get your PJs on."

"No," he said shortly.

Light bulb! "Drew!" I exclaimed. "Simon Says stand up!" (I'm thinking hey, this will be a great way to get Drew to do what I want! Two magic words and mwa hahaha! He's all mine!)

My plans for toddler domination were foiled, though, when Drew tossed aside his truck, pointed one small chubby finger at me and said, angrily, "NO Mama! Miss JESSICA say Simon Says."

"I'm not allowed to say Simon Says?"

"No, Mama. Miss JESSICA say Simon Says. Miss JESSICA!"

OK, I get it. No Simon Says for Mama.

monday blah

What a great weekend! And now it's Monday. Five long, long days to get through.

OK, Friday night I got to have a Mom's Night Out with some of the women from my mom's meetup group. We gorged ourselves on Indian food (I had lamb saag and garlic naan) and then went to see the new Harry Potter movie. Then we went out after the movie to Krispy Kreme for coffee, so we could dissect which crucial bits from the book were left out of the movie.

It was my first Mom's night out in a long time, and it was decadent.

Saturday morning we went on a tour of the Happy Cow Creamery, where we got to see lots of cows, all of whom did, in fact, look quite pleased, if not outright thrilled, probably because none of them were being turned into burgers.

Drew's favorite part was the taste testing. The milk is not pasteurized or homogenized or whatever other -ized processes they do to milk to make it tasteless and watery. Rather, this organic milk is creamy and thick and tastes rather like a milkshake. Obviously, we had to buy a jug of it to take home, and they also had fresh blackberries and this amazingly delicious cheese called Buffalo Wing cheese so of course we had to buy some of that, too.

Sunday we just took it easy - it was pouring rain, so we went to McDonald's for dinner and so Drew could run off some energy on the indoor slides. Then we went to visit my friend Ginger and her boys, who are 3 and 5. At one point, I was talking to her oldest child and inadvertently called him "Darling", at which point Drew jumped to his feet, pointed at me and said, "No Mama! I darling!"

pestilence

I have ants.

Large, black, eerily fast ants.

In my house.

Now generally when we get ants, they're the pinprick-sized ants that form neat, orderly lines from the outside to whatever it is in my house that has attracted their attention - usually where Drew spilled juice under a chair or behind a couch where I couldn't see it. These ants are easy to deal with. I clean up the juice, follow the line to their nest and destroy them mercilessly.

My current ants, however, are another story entirely. These ants, which are about the size of my thumbnail, are directionless and, dare I say, somewhat scatterbrained? They don't form orderly lines. They scamper about, willy-nilly, in all directions. They seem to have no purpose for being in my house, other than to annoy me.

I can't tell from whence they are coming, nor can I surmise, based on their activity, what they're after inside my house.

After smushing about the 10th one underfoot yesterday, I found myself standing in the middle of my dining room and yelling, "What do you WANT from me!? Just TELL me! I'll give it to you, whatever it is, and then you can GO!"

My mood was not improved when Drew caught on to the "game" and, every 10 minutes or so, hollered, "Uh-oh Mama! 'Nother ant!" About two times out of five, there was actually an ant. The other three times it was a dustball or a leaf or something non-creepy-crawly.

He redeemed himself, though, when I found myself sprawled on my bed upstairs (where, mercifully, it was still bug-free) muttering curses about the ants and he patted me gently on the arm and said, "Mama. I go down and get dose ants. I get dem."

My brave, brave warrior.

More swimming pics

Weekend before last, we took Drew to the Discovery Island water park in Simpsonville, which, if I may be so bold as to say, is about one-quarter of the size it needs to be. Either that, or Greenville County needs about four more water parks of the same size.

Nevertheless, I like the park because it has a zero-depth pool area specifically for babies and toddlers who can't swim on their own yet. My friend Kelly got some good pictures of her son, Alex, and Drew playing together:

Their favorite game involved doing pratfalls on their bums, which looked as if it would hurt, but I guess the swimmy diapers provided enough padding, because they kept doing it over and over.

I'm very excited this week because I get to have a Mom's Night Out on Friday. My mom is coming up to watch Drew and I'm going out with some girlfriends to eat Indian food and see the new Harry Potter movie. And then the last Harry Potter book comes out next weekend! Maybe my mom will watch Drew again so I can read the book all the way through in one sitting...

that makes it all worth it

Last night was perfectly normal in most ways. Charles was out of town, so it was just me and Drew, but otherwise, no huge differences from our daily after-work routine.

We got home about 6 p.m. I let our greyhound Simon out into the backyard to run and, you know, do his stuff. I popped a DiGiorno's spinach and mushroom pizza into the oven and ran upstairs to change out of my work clothes into a shorts and T-shirt, while Drew ran into his playroom and turned on the DVD player to watch an episode of a Mickey Mouse cartoon. (yeah, he's learned to operate his DVD player all by himself...pretty scary)

Back downstairs, turned on the TV, watched Tyra Banks take an HIV test. Found myself not really caring about the outcome, but there's not much on at 6:15 p.m. on a weeknight.

Drew ran around the kitchen a few times looking for something to eat, finally spying a basket of Star Wars Pez dispensers (a Christmas present from my soon-to-be brother-in-law, God bless his little heart) on the counter.

"Mama! I want that basket!" he cried.

"Yeah, uh....no. We'll not be having Pez for dinner."

My favorite dispenser, by the way, is the R2-D2 one. (the middle one, for the non-geek among you) You can eat Pez right out of a robot's butt! What fun!

Anyway, I deterred him from the basket with an offer of chocolate milk. Drew is very picky about his chocolate milk. It has to be chocolate syrup in white milk, not pre-made chocolate milk. And you have to leave some of the syrup on the bottom of the cup, because he will hold the cup over his head to check it.

The pizza was finished, so I made Drew stand over by the kitchen table while I removed it from the oven, because I'm a klutz and I prefer not to have him nearby when I'm handling stuff that's just been heated at 400 degrees for 25 minutes.

I cut up his pizza into manageable bites and also gave him a cup of the old standby - applesauce - in case the pizza didn't meet his approval. Fortunately, he ate it, which means he ate some vegetables! Yay! Vegetables for dinner means we can have Pez for dessert!

Cleaned up the dinner dishes and gave Simon some leftover pizza. (he loves it when Drew doesn't clean his plate)

Told Drew it was time for bubbles. (i.e. bathtime!) Drew, being 2 and a half, had to walk up the stairs "all by myself!", which takes like 10 times longer than it would if I carried him, but that's OK. It gave the water time to get warm.

Sat on a stool next to the tub and read part of my new book ("Something Borrowed" by Emily Giffin) while Drew made castles out of his bubbles.

Removed Drew from the tub after calmly explaining to him that he could not get out of the tub "all by myself!" because it was too slippery and dangerous.

Dodged flailing limbs while dressing him in his pajamas (and had an argument about that - he wanted to wear his "dig-dirt" shirt - the one with a picture of a bulldozer on the front - and I had to explain to him that there was no sense wearing his cool shirt to bed, because then nobody would see it and he couldn't make anybody jealous with his awesomeness. I think he got it, because he stopped complaining.)

Back downstairs...again "all by myself!". Drew wanted a snack, so I gave him a cup of blueberry yogurt, which he calls his "Pidahman ohgurt", because it had a picture of Spiderman on the side.

Then we sat in the recliner together and shared some strawberry Pez (he from the Death Star dispenser, me from R2-D2's shiny little rear) while we watched the tail end of Dr. Phil, which was a really awfully depressing story about this couple with deaf-blind triplets.

It was time for tooth-brushing, which he did "all by myself!" of course, although I did manage to get in a swipe or two on the premise of "checking for cavity bugs!"

Then we marched (literally, with cadences and everything) into the playroom to pick out his pre-bedtime books. Last night, he chose "Little Teddy Roosevelt Learns About Courage" and, one of my favorites, "Good Night Moon."

We returned to the recliner, where I had to read each story to him twice before he'd let me turn out the light. Then we rocked together while watching...something. What did we watch on TV? Some nature show on Animal Planet, I think. I was kind of zoning and listening to Drew sing that infernal "I dig dirt" song over and over.

Then I carried him halfway up the stairs before he realized what I was doing and demanded to be put down so he could...guess what? Walk up the stairs "all by myself!" At the top of the stairs, he gamely attempted to turn into my bedroom, but I blocked him and turned him in the right direction.

I got him into his crib and listened to his litany of demands - he always has a laundry list of things he "needs" before he can settle down and go to sleep. Last night it was "more chocolate milk" and "my fish lamp".

So I turned on the fish lamp and retrieved the chocolate milk and covered him with a blanket.

Before leaving the room, I said the same thing I always say..."Good night, Drew. I love you." I usually get a bit of fussing or a grunt in reply.

But last night,  just as I was closing the door, I heard him say softly, "I love oo, too, Mama."

I opened the door and peeked in. "Really?" I said.

"Es, Mama. I love oo, too."

Beach trip 2007

The characters:

Me: The oldest sister. Mom to Drew, age 2 1/2. Often heard exclaiming, "I'm going to count to three..."

Jennifer: The middle sister. Mom to six-month-old Annagrace. Hasn't slept through the night in a very long time.

Laura, AKA "La-La": The youngest sister. Not yet a mom, and after a week with her niece and nephew, is pretty sure motherhood is faaaar off.

Nana: The grandmother. General overseer and planner of Beach Trip 2007.

Drew: Two and a half. Fearless. Hates being dirty.

Annagrace: Six months. Smiles often. Doesn't enjoy sleeping at night.

The scene:

Seagrove Beach, Florida. On the Gulf coast, halfway between Panama City and Destin. Oceanfront condo.

The first thing that happened is this: I broke my small right toe. I tripped  over a stroller as I was moving it into the condo. Anybody with any reasonable degree of grace and balance would have simply bruised themselves, but I actually broke an appendage. Granted a small and ultimately fairly useless appendage, but nonetheless...

OK, so, onward to the pictures:

After figuring out that the mere presence of her cousin Drew would entertain Annagrace for several minutes, we forced him to sit near her while we were getting our swimsuits on. As you can see, he was less than enamored by forced babysitting servitude.

But the important thing was that they were quiet. And relatively still.

Our first sojourn on the sand, and Drew wanted nothing more than to steal our neighbor's buckets. He fussed and cajoled and attempted outright larceny until Nana finally agreed to go get him a bucket of his own.

And then he was OK, until his hands got covered in sand. Drew hates to have anything messy on his hands - he's very OCD about it.

So, after a quick nap...

we moved to the pool, where Drew promptly informed me that he could "do it all by myself, Mama." And he could, with a little help from his "butterfly wings", which he called his "laller-fie" wings.

I was quite proud of my little adventurer.

Here's Drew strolling along the beach with me and his Aunt Laura, whom he refers to as "La-La".

Annagrace getting a tan.

Evenings, Drew preferred to lounge with La-La and snack on something healthy, like BBQ Lay's.

He also enjoyed serenading us with his favorite song, whose award-winning lyrics are: (sung to the tune Frere Jacques)

I dig dirt
I dig dirt
Yes I do
Yes I do
Scoop it with a shovel
Dump it in a pile
Pick up more
Pick up more

Catchy, huh? I bet you'll be singing it all day long now. ALL. DAY. LONG.

sugar and spice

A couple of pictures sent to me by my mom that I thought were just wonderful:

This is Drew with my cousin's daughter, Claren. (would that make her his second cousin? I've never really understood what happens past the cousin level of relationships.) What I like best about this picture is the expression on Drew's face, which basically says, "Women drivers...not good."

And this is Drew being accosted by his cousin, Annagrace - my middle sister's daughter. Drew tends to regress a bit when he's around her - wanting to lay on his blankie on the floor or sit in a high chair "like the baby."  He looks so huge next to her, doesn't he?

2 1/2!

So, last week...Charles and I are in the car, heading home from work. Drew is in the backseat, where I thought he was reading a book and playing with his Matchbox cars. He's babbling to himself quietly; Charles and I are chatting, when suddenly, apropos of absolutely nothing, Drew blurts:

"Mama! I have a booger! On my finger!"

I turned around, and sure enough, the boy's not lying. He does, indeed, have a booger. On his finger. Not sure what he wants me to make of this information, I say, "Yes, you do."

At which point, he thrusts the mucus-covered finger towards me and says beneficently, "Here, Mama."

So kind. Is this like the equivalent of a cat bringing an eviscerated chipmunk to my doorstep?

Also, while he's not potty-trained yet, he does feel the need to let us know exactly when he's...doing his business. Not that he wants us to do anything about it, because he doesn't want to actually use a potty. I guess he just wants us to know that, if he were to be inclined to use a potty, now would be the time to take him to one. I'm not sure exactly who is supposed to be in training here, but I get the feeling it's us.

Last night, for example, we're at a restaurant having dinner with my parents. Surrounded by people who are attempting to enjoy their food. And Drew announces, loudly, (because he only has two volumes - asleep and loud), "Mama! I have a mess! In my pants!"

Notice how he always prefaces these dire warnings with "Mama!" Not "Dada". Nooo, Dada gets the sweetness, Mama gets the bodily functions.

my dog ate my blog

Hi! I'm back!

Those of you who read my blog regularly (hi Mom!) may remember this post almost two months ago, wherein I optimistically outlined my plans for a playset in our backyard.

Where, then, you may wonder, is this supposed playset? Why hasn't she written about it in all its magnificence? Probably because she, being lazy and good-for-nothing, never actually got it put together!

Charles and Dad actually did get it assembled, weeks and weeks ago, but I, being lazy and good-for-nothing, have neglected to upload the pictures of it and write about it until...well...right now.

Firstly, let me say that the instructions on this monstrosity clearly state that two reasonably competent adults can assemble the playset in approximately four hours. All the wood comes pre-drilled, so it's simply a matter of lining up the holes and fastening them in place. Easy-peasy, right?

They forgot to mention that the holes were drilled by monkeys. Blind monkeys, probably, because not a single one of them lined up where they were supposed to. Ultimately, Charles and my dad had to re-drill a bunch of holes in order to force the pieces to line up, so what was supposed to be a four-hour job turned into a week-long, approximately 18-hour debacle.

I think it was worth it, but then again, I didn't do any work on it.

It looks just like the advertisement! Well, except for our yard, with its unsightly bald patches.

Drew enjoys climbing up in the fort and pretending he's a pirate on a ship. He screams "Arrggh!" at the top of his lungs. Makes me glad we live out in the country and don't have many neighbors.

The ladder makes me a little bit nervous. So far there've been no falls, but it's just a matter of time, really.

Our greyhound Simon especially enjoys sitting in this sandbox on hot days. Charles said it's fine until he finds greyhound poopy in there, and then there's gonna be big, big trouble.