My Thoughtful Yittle Fwiahman

O: "Mama, me yike deese frackers.
Me bring come to da guys at the fwiah cation.
It's way, way far away.
Me need comting to dwive...
Maybe da pumper fwuck.
Yeah. Pumper fwucks good."


translation: Mama, me like these crackers. Me bring some to the guys at the fire station. It's way, way far away. Me need something to drive... Maybe the pumper truck. Yeah. Pumper truck's good." Indeed.

Wardrobe Wednesday

It's an oldie but a goodie. I love how he looks kind of horrified to be dressed like this. Oh, what we do to our children. Thankfully he'll have no memories of this...

Go join the fun at Heathen Family Revival

Wardrobe Wednesday

He's definitely going to be a performer...

Let's Count!

O: “One, two, fwee, eight…”

Me: “Right. Three, four…”

O: “Four…”

Me: “Fi..”

O: “Fibe, kix, kebin…”

Me: “Good! Five six, seven…Eight…”

O: “Eight, nine, ten, lemon!!”

Me: “Nice job buddy!!”

Wordless/Wardrobe Wednesday

King Of The Castle

Either You Are, or You Aren't

I don't think there's a food I don't like. With the exception of a textural issue with eggplant, I pretty much like everything. Daddy-O, on the other hand, is Mr. Meat and Potatoes picky with a sensitive Irish Catholic stomach to boot. I often go to bed thinking about what I'll get to eat tomorrow; he often forgets to eat at all. (FORGET to eat? Wha?)

Our boys are beginning to show their leanings on the food front:

Sunday morning the boys were busy playing in the living room when I decided to I make myself an egg and toast. O, sensing there was food somewhere in his proximity, abandoned his Lego's post haste and came sniffing to the stove.

He sat on my lap and we traded bites, but as usual he ended up eating most of the plate. When it was gone he pleaded for more. So back to the stove I went to produce a second helping.

Meanwhile, Bii wandered in to the kitchen looking for his playmate. I asked him if he'd like to join us for breakfast. He wasn't interested.

Me: Bii, you really need to have something to eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day...(yada, yada, yada)

Bii: Yeah, Mama. But I'm just really not a breakfast kinda guy.

Yep. He's definitely his father's son.

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

Everything is a little rosier these days at Chez Goose! The days are longer, Spring if officially less than a month away and I'm getting a bit of a bounce back in my step.

The most wonderful thing though? Owen wakes up singing.

We've been planning for Finn's birthday next week and obviously Owen has picked up on it.

This morning as I lay in bed waiting for the alarm to go off I heard him stirring. I couldn't make out what he was saying so I rolled over and turned up the monitor.

Like the Hoos down in Hoo-ville, it started as a whisper but the song got louder and louder as the sun came up:

hoppy buwpee to bii, Hoppy Buwpee to Bii, Hoppy Buwpee to Bii,

HOPPY BUWRPEE TO BII!!!!!

I have to figure out how to download video from our camera because this kid? Stinking Cute!

What a way to start the day.

Wordless Wednesday

busted

Good News / Bad News

Good News: Owen continues to become the Master of the Potty! Yay!

Bad News: He's become enamoured with the toilet brush. I caught him dunking it in the bowl while he was peeing. My reaction startled him and as he rushed to remove it and return it to the holder, he sprayed the wall and floor making a disgusting mess.

My version of Neil's classic: A Mom Needs a Maid

My Big Boy

Owen is doing so well with the potty training - even with being sick this week. He doesn't even ask for help unless he needs a wipe. If he has an accident, he quietly takes off his pants, puts them in the laundry basket and puts on new "ungavare" himself. I'm so proud.

This morning, we were all going about our usual routine. Daddy-O happened upon O in the bathroom peeing all by himself.

"Wow Owen! Nice job! Raise your hand if you're a big boy."

Both Owen and Daddy-O raised their hands.

"I'm a big boy too!"

"No, Daddy! You a Daddy!"

It put a big smile on my otherwise grumpy face.

My Baby

A text from daycare today:

"Owen just woke up from his nap with a dry pull up and asked to go pee...his undies have been dry all day."

More reason for rejoicing at Chez Goose!

Merry Merry

This is helping too... Little by little, I'm getting there.

Gotta Change Things Up

We have to figure something out. This is getting O.L.D.

The boys look SO forward to family days (weekends). We do too. With one exception:

Bii and O wake up too bloody early.

I don't know how to adjust their internal clocks so they'll sleep later. Both of them woke before 5:30 on Saturday AND Sunday.

Then, this morning? I had to haul their lazy asses out of bed at 7:00!!!

What I would give to sleep until 7:00!!

I have tried everything I can think of: Put them to bed later. Put them to bed earlier. Teach them that they can't come out of their room before the clock says 6:XX. Turn on their music. Bribe them. If they wake up, there's no playing quietly in their room (note to self: look in to installing doors upstairs). If they're up, they're up and so is Mama or Daddy-O.

I'm tired. Anyone have any suggestions?

Speach

O loves public safety vehicles. (Don't all little boys?)
Whenever he sees a police car or ambulance go by he screams "Woooowoooo!"

Today, when I put on his new shirt he looked down, then back up at me with a huge grin and said, "Fire Fuck!!"

His speach is coming along nicely.

Strong and Silent

Owen is the strong, silent type.

Well, not exactly. He speaks fluent Vietnamese (or is it Cambodian? The dialects kill me.) But he doesn't say much that we can understand. His pediatrician said he's at about an 18 month level. He's not overly concerned.

I had him "assessed" last week because he's "supposed" to be speaking more at 2. I'm not sure I'm being fair to judge him like this. I want him to do things at his own pace - not what the book says he should do. But I also don't want him to fall behind if there is a problem. He was early with everything else. He walked at 9 months. He's coordinated. His daycare teacher say's he's "freakishly strong". Other mothers shoot me horrified glances at the park as I sit and watch him climb up the ladder unattended. And then they shriek when he jumps from the three foot high landing to go do it all over again.

He certainly isn't "delayed" in anything but his speach. The assessor asked me if he spoke 50 words. 50? Are you kidding? Well, last night I started a list (I wish I'd done this with Finn because it's really kind of fun.) and, low and behold, he has nearly 40 words. Not all of them exactly clear, (POK = pocket) but 40 just the same.

So, he's not as far off the mark as I had feared. The assessor was on the fence, but recommended further testing. I don't think I'm going to pursue this yet. Maybe it's realated to "Second Child Syndrome" where he doesn't get as much attention from us as his brother did. I want to spend more time with him practicing his sounds; encouraging him to speak. He loves for me to sing to him (Finn not so much: "Mama, please stop singing") And he's really discovered his love of books in the last month or so. Perhaps a little more attention will help.

It certainly can't hurt.

My Baby

How can he be two?

Just yesterday I was cleaning his umbilical stump and tending to my very sore perineum.

Everyone says that time flies when you have children. I just didn't think it would be this fast.

Happy birthday my sweet boy.