At first it was cute, 'dins running around butt-naked. Then it got old. Really quick. Now all I want is for him to put clothes on. Seriously, this boys is naked 90% of the time. It doesn't help that he has a huge pet peeve for wetness either. He cannot stand to have a drop of water on his clothing. If he gets one little bitty microscopic drop of water anywhere on his clothing, he has to take it off and it is deemed dirty. So then it has to go into the washer. Oh and no trying to trick the genius child. He KNOWS if i don't actually wash it. He will get quite upset if I just throw it to the side and then when he gets his new clothes wet 30 seconds later and I try and hand the previous one back to him. Because he KNOWS that it hasn't been through the washer. Ugh, as if I don't have enough laundry to do around the house. Apparently, 'dins doesn't think I do enough, he wants to add more work to load.

Adin does. On Sunday we drove up to Baltimore to go to the National Aquarium. It kind of sucked at first because we got there around 11:30, but since everyone and their cousin wanted to see the fishys too, the aquarium was on a time entrance thingy. That means that even though we bought our tickets around 11:45, we didn't actually get IN until 1:45. But the Inner Harbor, which is where the aquarium is located, had some pretty cool things to see outside and it actually wasn't that cold outside. Well, it was cold, by not as cold as one would think seeing how we were right on the water. They have a kids museum there, so we will probably go back to check it out.

Anyways, back to the aquarium. Well we finally get in and we learn that there are no strollers allowed in the exibits. But the do give out free backpacks to haul your kiddos around in. Cooll we thought. Then the lady at the stroller check told us that Bear was too big. (BS, there were bigger kids in them, but I wasn't going to argue with her.) So it took a few minutes of having to pick him up off the floor because he didn't want to hold a hand, but he eventually picked up on the concept. They had some pretty good exibits. They even had monkeys there. Which confused me seeing how I thought we were in an aquarium, but whatever. The boys enjoyed looking at all of the fishys, but their favorite was the turtles. Which was good since they seemed to have an overabundance of them there. All was pretty good until we started making our way up. Once we got past the sharks, the crowd got insane. It was wall to wal people and kids. And the thing that pissed me off was that there were so many adults just standing in front of the tanks for what seemed like an eternity. I just wanted to smack them. All they had to do was stand back like two feet so my kids could see the damn fish. But no. So we ended up saying screw it and started to make our way to the dolphin arena. We got there about 25 minutes before the show started, which was good for seats, bad for antsy kids. Finally they started the show, which I was AMAZED at. My kids, not so much. Bear threw a fit through most of it because he didn't want to sit there. He was not impressed at all. And Adin went to sleep about 5 minutes into the show. He just layed his head on my lap and knocked out. But he was very thoughtful and he left the cleanup crew a nice big present. I go to pick him up after it's over and realize that he has had an accident. And not just a little one either. The floor beneth us is soaked. Oh well, accidents happen right?

Ship the boys thought was pretty cool. Only surviving CG warship from the attack on Pearl Harbor


Someone forgot to tell Adin that he is sitting in that all wrong


The National Aquarium


Brotherly Love


Daddy and Bear


Mommy and 'dins


Looking at the turtles


In a shark's mouth


Bear screaming during the dolphin show


The dolphins

So the other night, they were supposed to be in bed sleeping. Well since I was trying to catch up on homework, I let Adin slip into Arin’s room. I figured, what the hell, how much can it hurt? Right? Wrong. So about a half hour of them playing and jumping around in there, Adin comes out to go pee. Cool, right? Wrong. While he is in the bathroom, he spots the bottle of soap sitting on the tub. He apparently grabbed it and ran back to the bedroom, all the time yelling, “nightloveyoubegoodmom!” I didn’t see the soap, so I was like, great, he is going back to bed like a good boy, they will eventually fall asleep, at least my homework is getting done. Wrong again. Not even five minutes later, I hear Bear-Bear screaming bloody murder. I can tell that this is a cry of pain, so I take off running. Open the bedroom door and there is my Bear, COVERED in soap. It is in his eyes, his hair, his mouth, everywhere. You know how a baby is all slimy when it first comes out of the womb before they clean it up? Yeah, that’s what Bear looked like. Again. I grab him and run to the bathroom, we both jump in the tub, clothes, shoes and all. At this time, I still don’t know exactly what kind of soap is allover my child. Of course, Bear is screaming, he’s in pain and the water is freezing. I guess he expected me to wait for the water to warm up for him. Wrong. I finally get all the soap off of him, wrap him in warm clothes and give him a cookie. Time to deal with Adin. When ‘dins put the soap in his hair, he managed to keep it just there. Well because he had put so much there, by time I got done with Bear, it had started to run into his eyes too. Child #2 screaming bloody murder. So then of course, I have to hold him under water, which luckily for him, is warm now, and flush out his eyes. After that, we sit and have a little talk about what we do NOT do with soap. And if it doesn’t involve Mommy or Daddy, then we aren't supposed to even touch it. I decided not to spank ‘dins for that little episode. I’m pretty damn sure that the pain of soap in his eyes will be a good enough reminder. Poor little Bear’s face is completely red on the left side now. I finally figured out that it was baby wash that they were playing with. Thank God, because if baby wash hurts that much, I can only imagine what big people soap would have felt like.

Moral of the story: Baby soap is only tear-free as long as it is not poured directly into the eyes. And know you know, and knowlege is power.

Back story- Adin is laying in our bed watching TV, Dad goes up to bed and kicks him out and makes him get in his own bed. I reassure Adin at tuck-tuck that Daddy is going to sleep and is going to turn off the television. 30 seconds later, I hear Adin running down the stairs…

Adin: mom, Mom, MOM, MOM!
Me: Yes Adin.
A: Mom, you gotta go up the stairs. Daddy a bad boy, he turn the tv back on. You gotta go spank him.
M: What?
A: MOM, Daddy not going night like a good boy, he watching tv. Go spank him, tell him to go to bed. Please Mommy
M (trying not to laugh hysterically): Ok Adin, I’ll go up there in a minute. Go-
A: And then you spank him?
M: Yes Adin. Now get back in bed.
A: Ok Mommy. Thanks. Nightloveyoubegood.

That is Adin's newest saying, "Wait 'till I..." Here are some lovely examples...

If he wants to wear something that is too small, he will say, "Wait 'till I be little, and then I wear it."
If he wants something that is girl specific, i.e.; makeup and I tell him that what he wants is for girls, he will say, "Wait 'till I be a girl, then I can wear it. And Daddy be a girl, and Arin be a girl. Then we can all wear makeup!"
And my favorite as of late... We were at the mall and his balloon got away from him. He asked me to get it and when I told him that I couldn't reach it, he ever so sweetly looks up at me and says, "Wait 'till I be a bird Mommy. Then I fly up there and get it. Just wait 'till I be a bird."

Well, Happy New Year everyone. Hopefully this will be a good year for all. It is starting out good here. The weather is nice, the boys have been good so far today, so let's hope that it continues this way. I hope that everyone had a good Christmas. We have succeeded in teaching Adin the true reason for the season. He knows that Christmas because of Jesus. It was so cute when the other day he picked up a Christmas card that someone had sent to us and read it too me. he held it up and said, "Look mommy, it says Happy Birthday Jesus." Ok, so it really said Merry Christmas, but I thought that it was cute. And he knows that Santa is "just a toy, he's not real." Which he will so blatantly point out to you if you say something about that fat man.

Arin has decided to start the New Year off good too. He is slowly realizing that he will be two soon and so he needs to start on those terrible twos. We were in the car and he had the soda that he was sharing with Adin. I told him to hand it to mommy so that I could give it to Adin and that he had to share. He looks at me and says, "No, MINE!" turns to the side, licks the straw and says, "mmmmmm, mine Mommy." It was so hard not to laugh at that. And then the other day when I was trying to change his diaper he was rolling around. So Dad popped him on the leg and told him to lay still. Arin starts fake crying which daddy then tells him to "either cry for real or don't cry at all. Got it?" Arin responds by saying "ok." Daddy asks him if he wants a spanking, which of course prompts our little Bear says "Yes Daddy." I couldn’t help myself, I busted out laughing. So see, this year will be full of changes all around. Bear is going to be a handful. Oh well, I guess it's his turn now.

So Adin turned three on Monday. He had been waiting for that for weeks, he kept telling all of us that his birthday was “A-cember 10.” And well, A-cember 10 finally got here. He loved all his presents, (thanks everyone). His favorite had to be the tyrannosaurus Rex we got him. He’s big into dinosaurs right. I mean come on, what boy isn’t at this age. So of course, we got him this nice sized T-Rex that's mouth opens and closes as he growls (or does a rex roar?). So what does our precious Adin do with this dino? He chases his brother around the house having the Rexy “eat” Arin. Poor Arin is running away crying, but does Adin care? No, of course not. Because as a big brother, it is fun to torment.
But, oh a semi-good note, Adin is officially out of diapers. He has been all underwear since A-cember 7th. It started out awesome and has slowly started to go downhill. He has not been accident-free in three days. I am beginning to think he is just doing this because he thinks that the look of exasperation on my face when he tells me. Like tonight before bed I asked him 3 times, 3 times if he needed to go pee in the potty. Not even 5 minutes after I returned downstairs after the nightly tuck-tuck did I hear this;
Adin: “Mommy, I need new pants.”
Me: “Why Adin?”
Adin: “Cuz.”
Me: “Because WHY Adin Christopher?”
Adin: “Because these are wet.”
Me: “How did they get wet Adin?”
Adin: “It just an accident Mom. It just an accident.”
He tells me this as he is looking around the banister smiling at me. Accident my butt.

I also answer to Mama, Mommy, Ma, Lady that gave birth to me, and a few others. What I do NOT answer to is Daddy. Yea, try telling the 20 month old that. He refuses to call me mom. It is always "daddy, daddy" oh and today, he even called me Nana.
So this is what I would like to say to Arin:

"I carried you for 41 weeks and 3 days, I delivered your little punk butt with no epidural, I breastfed you exclusively for the first 8 months of your life and then continued on until you were 14 months old. I am home with you all day long. I kiss the bad ow’s and boo-boos. I change your butt. I tuck you in at night and say your prayers with you. I could go on and on. But look child, all I am asking is for a little consideration. Just a tad. I know that you a capable of saying Mommy. You have let it slip every now and then and if we tell you to say mommy or momma, you will. But why is it that every time you look at me, you call me Daddy? I just wanted to let you know that while I love you to bits and bits, I'd like a little of that in return. I'd like to walk in the door and you look up and yell, ‘Mommy's home!’ When I pick you up over the baby gate, how about a ‘thanks Mom’ instead of ‘thanks Daddy.’ Could you do that for me please? Thanks a bunch.”

*Now don't get me wrong, Daddy is a great guy and he helps out a ton around here. I just want my baby to call me by my name, not his.

So we were sitting on the floor this morning, playing with toys when I was trying to convince the boys that it was nap time. Of course, this was met with some resistance by the older one, Adin. Seeing how they love to drink milk, I tried to bribe him with a sippy cup full of his drink of choice. Then, out of the blue, Adin asks me, "Mommy, where get milk at?" I informed him that I bought the milk at the store but that is not where the milk is really from. Obviously I have lost the 3 year old at this point because he looked up at me and said, "huh?" I proceeded to tell him that milk comes from cows, and since I was oh so conveniently holding a stuffed one, I showed him the utters and explained to him that the cow is milked and then pasteurized and bottled, then goes to the store, them mommy and daddy buy it. He was intrigued by this, so he began to ask me where other things come from. He thought that cows were pretty cool since not only do they give us milk, but the give us steak and hamburger too. I decided to leave out the part where I tell him that they have to kill the cow to get his yummy steak for now. At three years old, he has a pretty good idea what death is. He knows that if you kill a bug, it dies and that Gil and Sharkbait died and are gone for good. (Those were our 2 angel fish that Adin and Arin decided were starving, so they fed them coffee and an entire bag of algae while mommy was on the phone with the doctor. Aren't they sweet?)

I don't want to sugar coat death but, "the earlier and more naturally the concept of death is taught the more likely children with develop a healthy and fuller appreciation of life." (Crenshaw, David A.) I can see that Adin is trying to wrap his little mind around the fact of life that is death. While watching the news with us one evening, Adin looks at the TV and asks us who they were talking about and what happened to him. I just told him the facts. That Sean Taylor was a football player who died. Adin then asked me, “Somebody die him?” I told him yes, some bad guys shot him and he died and that’s why we don’t ever play with guns. Adin looked at the TV and Sean’s picture and said, “Oh, I sorry.” That made me even sadder than I already was. The look on Adin’s face was as if he had lost one of his best friends. And it’s not like he knew who he was.

Crenshaw, David A.. "Helping Toddlers and Preschool Children with their Grief." SearchWarp.com. 10 Feb 2006. Rhinebeck Child and Family Center, LLC. 4 Dec 2007 <http://searchwarp.com/swa39856.htm>.

Having children around you can be quite humorous. We were in the kitchen making gingerbread cookies last week and of course I had my boys sitting on the counter all up in the cookie dough helping me. Well my three year old has his little ball of dough, which he rolls in between his hands, making a cylindrical looking thing. He holds it up to me and says, “Look mommy, it a penis!” Oh my. I almost fell over I was laughing so hard. I had to compose myself and look at him and tell him that we do not make penises out of cookie dough. He said ok and moved on. Not two minuets later, he goes, “Look mommy, it a another penis. And it’s big!” I almost died laughing. Once again I tell him that we do NOT make penises out of cookie dough. So I was a little grateful with what happened next.
Adin: “Look mommy, what’s this?”
Me: “I don’t know. What is it?”
Adin: “It a elephant!”
Me: “Oooh, that’s cool. What a nice elephant.”
Adin: “Yes, it a elephant. ‘Cuz we don’t make penises out of cookies mommy. It just not right. Silly mommy.”
The good thing is he seemed to have gotten it through his little head that we do not make body parts out of food. Because last night when he was helping me make tortillas, he once again reiterated to me that we don’t make penises because, “It just not right silly mommy.” Silly me, what was I thinking?

I’m kind of stumped as to what to write for my blog(s) this week. See the problem is that I have been on a kid-free vacation since Thursday. My wonderful in-laws came in from Illinois to share the holiday with us. It was great; the turkey was good, the quiet house was even better. See when Nana and Papa come to visit, they get a hotel out in town and take the boys to stay with them for the duration of their trip. Don’t get me wrong, I love my babies to death. But I don’t often get a break from them. Most days I am around them from the time they wake up until the time they go to bed. So a little break every now and then is great. It was amazing, the house stayed almost spotless! I was hoping to get a little more read in my book, The New Strong-Willed Child, but homework was a little more important. I did get a little read on the discipline chapter. Dr. Dobson advises a three step process. 1. Ask nicely. “Adin can you please pick your toys up?” 2. Inform them in a strict tone while slightly gripping their shoulder... “Adin, mommy wants you to pick your toys up right now. Do you understand me?” 3. A firm swat on the bottom. That is considerably different from how we had been doing things. I would always ask Adin about five or six times. And then I would start to get frustrated. And then I would demand that he do as he was told about two or three times. Then he would get a spanking.

“Just as some children are naturally compliant, others seem to be defiant upon exit from the womb. They come into the world smoking a cigar and yelling about the temperature in the delivery room and the incompetence of the nursing staff and they way the doctors are running things…Mothers of strong-willed children know there is something different going on inside, because their babes have been trying to carve their initials on the walls (in-utero)…Three o’clock in the morning is their favorite ‘playtime.’ Later, during toddlerhood, they resist all forms of authority and their greatest delights include ‘painting’ the carpet with Mon’s makeup or trying to flush the cat down the toilet. Their frustrated parents wonder where they went wrong and why their child-rearing experience is so different from what they had expected. They desperately need a little coaching about what to do next” (Dobson, James)

Dobson, James. The New Strong-Willed Child. USA: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc, 2004.

So I was surfing the net, catching some waves when I decided to visit one of my favorite blogs, Rocks in My Dryer. One of the first posts that I came across she was talking about her latest experience to a furniture store. When they were there, her potty-training-in-process child had tinkled on a sofa while they were out furniture shopping. Of course, it was not the sofa that they were thinking about buying, but a more expensive one. Her husband did the honest thing and bought the sofa. I really hope that if I am ever in that situation, I would do the same thing. But having not been there yet, I don’t know. There is that part of me that would just want to throw a pillow over it and leave the store. Quickly. And then, of course, all that I could think of is how when we go bed shopping this weekend, that that is going to be my son. I’m sure of it. And not only will he pee on something, I’m pretty sure that he will make sure that it is the most expensive thing in the store. I might just throw a pillow over it and die. As far as potty training is going around here, we are actually doing pretty good with it. Adin has only taken the baby’s diaper off once since my last post and luckily I caught it before there was any mess. If only I could be that lucky all the time.

Ugh, potty training. Part of me wants to be super lazy and just have my sons in diapers from now until eternity. I know that it sounds a little mean, but hey, give me a break. When we first began this potty training adventure, all was well. I call it an adventure, although at times it is more like a nightmare.

Take the other morning for example. Adin comes up to our bedroom to wake me up. He is naked. I know from this that it is going to be a long day. So I go down to their bedroom and not only is Adin naked, but so is the baby. It's going to be a really long day. Now Adin knows what to do when he has to go to the bathroom, but Arin does not. I'm going to let you all use your imagination as to the state of the crib. I sighed, and grabbed the baby and continued down yet another flight of stairs. When I tried to put clothes on the baby, Adin looks at me and says, "But mommy, Arin wanna pee in the potty!" Ahhhh, I was at a loss for words at first. Then I had to look at my three year old and try and explain to him that the baby does not know how to pee in the potty. I did think that it was kind of sweet though, he wants his baby brother to be like him. But oh, the mess. And of course, it is now a regular thing, if I leave the room, the baby ends up naked. I have even tried to duct taping the babies diaper on him. Seriously. But no, my 3 year old is smarter than that. He immediately figured out how to take the tape off. So now I am clueless as to what to do about Arin and the diaper sitch.

I thought that I might look around the Internet to see if I can find something to help me out. I found many mothers suggesting taping the infants diaper on. (See, it’s not just me.) I was shocked to see people out there actually potty training kids as young as 8 months old. It’s called infant potty training and to me it is just insanity. There a lot of steps to do this. One of the first is to switch to cloth diapers. After you do that, you start just holding your kid over the toilet until they go to the bathroom. When they do eventually go, you make a specific sound or say a specific word. This will help your baby identify what their body is doing. The more I read, the more I learned that this would take a LOT of time. Granted, I am a stay at home mom, but I am also a full time student, wife, housekeeper, teacher, doctor, therapist, you get the point. I barely have time to brush my hair every day, let alone spend a lot of time holding Arin over the toilet waiting for him to pee. “Many families who learn about this method a little late end up potty training two children at once, a baby and a toddler” (Boucke, Laurie). Where in the H-E-double hockey sticks do they get all that extra time?

Adin did do very good today with just big boy underwear on, he only had one accident. But as far as keeping the diaper on the baby? For now, I’m still at a loss. Suggestions would be great… :]

I love to cook, and one of my fondest memories from my childhood is cooking with my family. I remember making cakes and cookies with my Grandma. My favorite part of baking was getting to lick the batter. Since there were four of us kids (me, my two aunts, and my uncle), we split it up. The two oldest ones, (my aunts Kristi and Dolly) got to split licking the bowl, and then us younger ones (myself and my uncle J.D.), each got a beater to lick, which left Grandma with the spoon. I, of course, could not wait to pass this tradition down to my boys. I know that there are a lot of parents out there that do not let their children do this for fear that the kids will get sick because of the raw eggs in it. In fact, one of my good friends and my sister-in-law are like that. But me, nah, that was one of my favorite things, so I wanted to pass it on to my boys. And maybe it is a little reckless of me to do so. My philosophy is that I have been licking cake batter off beaters, spoons and out of bowls for the past 24 years and I’ve never gotten sick, so it’s okay for my kids. Eh, whatever, I eat my steak medium rare too.

Anyways, I decided that even though I have boys, I wanted them in the kitchen with me. I try not to play the gender roll in my house. Yes, my oldest son has a few baby dolls he plays with, and my baby has long curly hair. So I decided to put them in the kitchen early on. My three year old has his own little wooden rolling pin, apron and chef hat. He loves to help do anything in the kitchen that involves helping mommy. His favorite thing is when I make either tortillas or sugar cookies because he gets to sit on the counter with his own ball of dough, rolling it out. It’s kind of funny because his tortillas always come out more round than mine do! Arin likes to help out in the kitchen too. If I am standing at the counter making something, Arin will run into the kitchen saying, “mix, mix” because he wants to stir too. I think that by letting the boys help me out in the kitchen at such a young age will help instill in them a life-long love of cooking. That, and so they will know their way around the kitchen, so one day, they can make mommy dinner! More posts to come on this subject matter later...