But Where Have We Gone

I don't even know where to start. So much has happened this year and not all of it for the best. I am not typically one who blames a whole year to be crappy but damn, 2013 is kicking our butts. Even being the eternal optimist that I am has wavered more than once this year.

My sister moved to another state. I miss her to the point of hurting because we spent so much of our days together. It feels so odd not seeing her so often or even talking to her. I know it was best for her family but oh man, do I miss her. I can't help but to feel it is a bit of a karmatic ass-kicking. My OSD moved at the beginning of the year and I couldn't help but breathe a sign of relief. I know it is best for her family and where she truly feels at home and yes, I get a certain amount of peace knowing she isn't here. Call me petty, call me cruel but I really thought I deserved some calm after almost 6 years of difficulties. We were/are getting along with his ex and the lines of communication have been opened wider than they had since I moved in with him in 2006, but I feel like I sacrificed my sister for it.

I have worked more than twice the amount of overtime this year than I did last. Yeah, the extra money is nice but I miss my kids. I hate coming home late just in time to put them to bed. I miss picking them up from school and hearing their excited stories about their day.

Fart Bone is slacking off in school and at home. He is fighting more than ever with his brother and refuses to help around the house. I think we are sliding into puberty and the age of mood swings and teendom. He doesn't understand why we get so upset about it because he is still getting mostly A's. Without any effort, he's passing but I know that he could just blow everyone out of the water if he would just freakin try! I guess it is true that you are blessed with kids that are just like you. Joy. I am excited that he is so comfortable in school. With bullying becoming an epidemic in this country, it makes me happy that even with his nerdy love of Pokémon (which he'll say himself) and his obsession with Skylanders, he has many different friends at school and has no problem making more. He is a total teacher's pet and still doesn't get crap about it from his friends. You can't help but love him.

Chunko runs our house.
His tantrums are getting more rare but when he is having a bad time, it lasts a week or more. He is very scheduled and has his rituals. I guess he got all my OCD characteristics and Fart Bone was blessed with his dad's flexibility. I'd be terrified if there was a third kid to mix all of our bad traits into one mean toddler (who would probably be 20lbs at birth). Chunko has started school and comes home with so many great things that he has learned. It is exciting to see him at the end of the day and hear him tell me what an author is and what an illustrator does. I love hearing him sing his ABCs and count to 35 (even if he is supposed to be going to sleep, not singing in the dark and stealing his brother' covers).

Of course not all of his tantrums are horrible to watch. When he first started school he would come home and just scream at us. Everything we did upset him. If we ignored his tragic wails, he would move our couch around the front room. Which makes me wish I could have caught video of my whining Godzilla baby pushing a loveseat around the room.

Now that we are not wandering our halls like sleep deprived zombies we are able to sleep and have energy to actually do chores (ew, chores) and go do more family things like hiking. We have turned off the baby monitor and have had two weeks of peaceful sleep without it. Next on our list is to get Chunko to go to bed without the drama. The kid is used to getting his own way and being able to sleep in, so we aren't expecting miracles.

Fart Bone is to my shoulders and has broken the 5 foot mark. He is all skin and bones and has a baby 6-pack. I pray every night that he can make it to 6 foot (maybe 5'11") and hasn't inherited his dad's shorter stature. Chunko is 42" and staying steady at 46lbs (even though it feels like picking up a pile of bricks would be easier). Of course my step girl is steady at 5'4" and will just be one of those ridiculously cute short girls (on top of being freakin gorg, funny and smart... brat).

Now that I have burst the damn of words since my small hiatus, hopefully I will be able to post more often and share more and more of the troublesome nut jobs I call "my children."

Maybe I'll post instead of obsessively watching Breaking Bad or American Horror Story... Prob not...

Sleep is Such a Very Beautiful Thing

I know that we are all very familiar with the troubles that we have had for the past three years with getting Chunko to sleep through the whole night, in his bed, in his room. 

Small recap: Chunko never slept for more than 3 hours at any time in his own bed. He insisted on sleeping with us in our “getting smaller by the second” bed. He slept diagonal, all the while maintaining a foot on each of us, typically in my gut and on my love’s face (the better to kick you with, my pretty). 

Smaller recap: It sucked.

We tried everything! Everything! We were sleep zombies, desperate for those few hours of continuous sleep we could squeeze out before the baby would come charging into our room. He would lull us into a false sense of sleep deprived safety and do really well for a week or so, but then it would go right back to the usual, 12am wake-up call (followed by the 1am, 3am, 5am and the final 6am wake-up calls). 

We stumbled through our day to day lives, constantly overrun by our adorable little tyrant and were in serious talk about upgrading our bed size. In our final last ditch effort to soothe our wild beast, we completely redid the boys’ bedroom. Over the past few years, we have been slowly moving Chunko’s belongings into his older brother’s room. It was time for a complete overhaul. Fart Bone’s bed was huge and oppressive and so we replaced it. We bought all new furniture, we rehung all new posters and artwork and we even saged the room. We were leaving nothing to chance.  

And it worked! Holy crap, it actually freakin worked! He settled into his required bedtime routine, and will scoot his tired butt to HIS room and sleep in HIS bed the whole night! It is a miracle desperately needed and very graciously accepted. 

The first week it happened, we were so sleep deprived that we honestly thought that it was our tired brains playing tricks on us. We could not believe that it was happening and we were going to soon be “those” parents that actually looked like they slept sometime this century. So far, it has been three blissful months of full nighttime sleeping and it has been absolutely beautiful! More beautiful than a chocolate cake after a long gym workout, for realsy though.

It is amazing how little sleep you need when you are 20 and running the town versus when you're 30, old and grumpy.

DIY Dresser

My love has a dresser that has been his since he was 10 year sold. It is over 30 years old. It has been painted and repainted at least four times.
When we first moved in together, we repainted the dresser for my step girl and she added a few of her own personal touches:

We passed the dresser down to Fart Bone but it was hidden in his closet and we eventually bought his loft bed (with more drawers than could be imagined), so the magic traveling dresser was passed on to Chunko. We again hid it in our closet.

These past couple of weeks, we have slowly been moving Chunko into his brother's room. The last thing to be transferred was the traveling dresser.

I apparently have a thing against closet doors and think they need to be removed immediately upon move in. Which means that the boys do not have closet doors to hide the dresser with their sister's name on it.

It had to be repainted before we could move it.
I saw an Ikea dresser and I loved the color, and we used it as our inspiration.
We wanted "Ikea dresser" meets "Monster's Inc"

 ^ My Inspiration

 Hard at work and making the final touches

Tada!!!

We painted it green because that was the color the boys picked (you know, Mike Wyzowski's color?)
And we added white knobs with crazy monster eyes painted on them.

It looks perfect in its new place!

Chunko is so excited to be in his own room with his brother (Fart Bone could care less).
He is very happy to wake up, walk into his own room (cause he still sneaks into our room before 6am) and pick out his days outfit.

I call this DIY a success

Wise Cracks

I am about to blather on about my butt...
That was your warning...

I have been suffering immense pain in my tailbone for the past 9 months. It hurts when I sit mostly, which is what I do for my job, eight hours a day, so it is important to try to alleviate it. I went to my primary doctor's office and determined they are complete morons. The first doctor insisted it was due to my molar pregnancy or giving birth to an 11 pound baby. I could have agreed but this started in June/ July, not over 2 years ago. He sent me off to get x-rays, which came back completely normal. The next doctor insisted I injured myself without knowing. I live a very active life and, again, could have agreed. Only problem, this was a progressive onset of pain, not a sudden discomfort. She kept blathering on about her freshman year of college and how she injured her back and didn't even know why, except she was in gymnastics and fell off a trampoline once.... I was supposed to apparently ignore it and it would go away. I insisted on an MRI referral and she reluctantly agreed. After waiting three months for my (soon to be ex) doctor's office to get their shit together and refer me to an MRI center that accepts my insurance, I got the MRI. Holy shit, that is one of the scariest experiences of my life. It wasn't so bad, until they shove you in and you realize the roof of the tube is an inch above your nose. I nearly had a panic attack after spending almost two hours in that tube of hell. The results came back and it looked like I had a slight displacement of my tailbone. Both the MRI specialist and my (idiot) doctor agreed that 3mm of movement of my coccyx is not big deal. My doctor kept insisting on my having a mysterious injury that would heal itself but I managed to get a referral to a pain management specialist. I was defeated by this point. They were more concerned about the cysts on my ovaries than the pain preventing me from sitting. I always have cysts, I didn't come there to find out what I already knew. I almost didn't go, but I am glad I did. He believed I didn't forgetfully injure my butt and he believed that any displacement of my coccyx isn't normal. He wanted me to start with steroid shots to the area and maybe in a year (or two), we would plan on having my tailbone removed completely. He said he hasn't ever seen a situation like mine except in 80 year olds with osteoporosis who fell on their butts. Clearly not 80 and not suffering osteoporosis. I went home and tapped Google to read up on these shots... and I scared the crap out of myself. I read nothing good about them and became all too aware of the possibilities of an allergic reaction. I called the nurse for some reassurance and ended up getting an earful about the pain I would soon be in. I sucked it up. One time. If it was too much, then I wouldn't go back. Simple as that. Besides, if I can birth a baby naturally, birth an 11 pound baby, have 2 blood transfusions after a D&C, then I can conquer this... I hope.

Today was the big day.
I was shaking I was so scared.
Have I mentioned I hate needles (like most normal people)?
And have I mentioned that I am extremely sensitive about my back (and my butt)?
I walk out of the waiting room and follow to the back, sniffling because my husband won't be able to hold my hand through this (apparently they didn't want to uselessly expose him to radiation, pssshh, whatever). I nervously blurted all the ridiculous crap that came to my head.
"I'm a huge cry baby and you have to deal with me now."
"I'm nervous so sorry if I make any snarky bitch comments."
"I didn't shave my legs, please ignore that."
"I don't really like people playing with my butt."
"You seem tired, are you giving me the shot?"
"Not pregnant but clearly ovulating"
"My husband had the big V, but they wouldn't give me his balls in jar. I guess they don't remove them anymore."
"I have an unusually long butt crack."
And on, and on my wise words spewed from my mouth.

I climbed on the table and sat there, still vomiting my awesomeness.
And the nurse yanks my pants down!
"I have to shove a tissue up my nose because my allergies are acting up in this overly sterile environment."
I've had quite a few surgeries but never have I had to casually lay on my stomach and talk shop while my bare ass waves in the wind. Then they had to swab the area... and then they discussed the affected area. They had to give me three numbing shots (3!!!!) and then it was over. Kind of. The nurse had to clean up the iodine, blood and shot juices... From my butt. Awkward. I am so glad Chunko is potty trained because wiping his butt after a poo would have brought back memories of my own recently wiped rear end. Like PTSD but creepier.

The anesthesia has worn off and I hurt like hell. I hope that there is improvement over time. I am overly excited to go back for more highly enjoyable butt shot fun. Nothing beats a day where you bare your ass in front of strangers.

Ps, I really do have an overly long butt crack. It is long like Jennifer Aniston's. I know my butt isn't as firm as her but it used to be

 

Crappy Pictures R Us

I don't know what the heck is wrong with the idiots who take Fart Bone's school pictures but I have declared war on them.

Life touch? Psshh, more like "Crappy Pictures R Us"

At the beginning of kindergarten and even first grade, we were begging Fart Bone to take a nice picture. He did a fake, cringe-like smile and rocked the "What the heck did you just call me?" look.

A couple of years ago, we tried some School Picture Training and we practiced his smile for hours. I gave up on getting nice, model-esque pictures of my crazy boy child and decided that if you can't fight them, then why not join them? We practiced goofy lopsided grins and we practiced a few really nice wide smiles (I hadn't completely given up yet).

When we got his pictures, his smile was actually very cute... He looked adorable, and then I noticed his shirt was tucked in. It wasn't even neatly tucked in, it was shoved in a half assed attempt to tuck my kid's shirt in. I HATE tucked in shirts. I spit venom at tucked in shirts. I don't know what it is about them but to see a shirt crappily tucked in rubs my nerves raw.

I assumed it was a fluke. I was a bit pissy but I rolled with it.

Then it was time for spring pictures. I put him in a shirt they couldn't tuck in and we practiced his smiles again. I had high hopes. Then we got the pictures....

He was in a ridiculous pose (Standing, with his hand literally gripping his chin? Who does that????) and they made him "lessen his smile"
Apparently the professional photographer thought that my sons smile was too much and made him lessen his grin. Am I the only one dying from the rancid stupidity?

I called to complain about the pose and they told me the pose goes with the background. Um, I am not a graphic designer or even proficient in photoshop (I can' even open it), but I know that I can easily switch out the background or the pose. I know because I did it!

So it was time for war...

School pictures came up again and I told Fart Bone that he was going to give me his most ridiculous smile. I wanted it to ooze with creepy stalker goodness or to remind you of someones porcelain clown collection. I wanted ugly and I wanted to cry with laughter when I saw them.

Aaaaannnnnddd they sucked.

Weak smile, lifeless eyes, lame, lame and lame. I was so mad.

First they tuck my kid's shirt in. Then they plead stupidity and refuse to change the pose. Then they made Fart Bone smile less and then, lastly they photograph him with a lame look on his face?

So it is time for spring pictures... I told him to tell the photographer that I am the one paying for the pictures and if they aren't going in the yearbook, then why can't I have it my way. I told him to tell these Lifetouch jerks that they were stupid and I might have given him a few sample taunts if the photographer argued with him (I said I was mad).
We practiced.
1.
2.
3.
Smile

 I told him I really wanted the serious frown but if not I wanted a "slap you in the face" cheesy grin with all his teeth (even the molars that hadn't grown in yet). I told him that if the photographer told him to lessen his smile, then he was to keep frowning until the photographer gave up.

After school today, I made him show me what he was able to do... He showed me two options... He won't tell me which one was taken. I guess I have to wait the 16 weeks to find out (which means so do you, I know you are dying to know). 

He has such an amazing smile... I adore him. Don't those dimples kill you?

I understand why my parents gave up on my school pictures. Why pay $50 for pictures you can't stand? You can't be there to approve. You can't even view samples before a final selection. You can't even choose a nice background without it coming with a lame pose.

Pinter-Test

Like most women, I am an avid pinner on Pinterest (and if you aren't on it, seriously get on it) and I have started a small collection of delicious looking recipes. My family has fallen into a very bad rut of crappy, bland dinners and I was hoping to throw in new things to allow new tastes in our lives. It tends to be hard to eat healthy in our family because I am a picky eater. Very very very picky eater. It has been classified as an eating disorder, it is pretty bad. With my picky tastes, it narrows what we eat down to a very small amount. The baby doesn't like meat (and no, chicken nuggets are not meat) and Fart Bone is random on what he will and will not eat. If we let him, he would eat ramen and cheese pizza for months on end and never complain.

So I scroll through millions of delicious recipes, hunting for what will meet our various wants and needs. We have tested a few of them so far. Mostly very sad fails, like the limp baked asparagus or the overly garlic and basil nightmare this was.

Last night we had success! It was delicious (x 1,000,000) and everyone loved it (except my nephew but he was sick and crabby so he doesn't count). We made twice baked potato casserole and it was to die for!!!


Pinterest Version

Our Version (Looks so much better, right?)

 We also made these cute swirly color cupcakes and they were so much fun to make. My sister and I had so much fun making the color swirls that we actually forgot to invite the kids down to help! We were trying to make designs and see what would happen if me swished colors together. It was so much fun to make and very delicious to clean up after. 

Pinterest version



Ours (Again, so much better)

I am hoping to be able to create simple, healthy snacks and lunches for the boys (cause my step girl is a teenager, we all know they live off of Mt Dew and Dorritos) and also for my husband and myself.

Why are you still here? Get on Pinterest already!!!!!

When Did It Become Ours

Last night, we were going through the basic every night struggle of getting Chunko to go to bed. He had already claimed he had to  pee. He had already had two rounds of goodnight kisses from everyone in the house, including a few stray stuffed animals. He had already changed his pajamas 3 times. He had already claimed he had to poop. We already read our four books and snuck in a fifth. Now, it was time to turn off the lights and officially go to sleep. This is when the whining started.

"I want to sleep in our bed!"
"I want to sleep in our bed!"

"I want to sleep in OUR bed!"

Wait.. What the frack???? When did MY bed become OUR bed?!?!?

Chunko is almost three years old and we still have regular fights over getting him to sleep and staying asleep. The holidays have completely ruined any sense of routine we used to have but we are slowly getting back to what is working best for us.

Unfortunately, this also means we are almsot starting fresh with our sleep training.

He goes to sleep without too much trouble, aside from the usual distractions, but the magic is getting him to stay in HIS bed throughout the whole night. I would be happy with him staying there until at least 5am. I don't think we ask too much but he seems to think we do.

We have almost given in and actually started looking into california king sized beds just to get a fraction of the space to sleep in. My love and I sleep grasping the edges of the bed on opposite sides, all while Chunko spreads out and still manages to kick me in the head and punch my love in the junk. Then we realized we were shopping for a new bed (and frame) and that our two year old was winning.

Now, I know the kid is stubborn but where do you think he got all that bull headedness? Um, his dad (totally not me), hello! We have dug our heels in and have decided to get this kid out of our bed (and when I say OUR, I mean mine and my love's) and back into HIS bed.

I am hoping to be able to successfully get Chunko to go to sleep without being watched as he tires himself out and be able to keep him out of our room for the night. I am also hoping to not be woken up at 5 am with a very crabby baby smacking me in the face and demanding I put on Caillou (have I mentioned I HATE Caillou?). And since I am asking for miracles on a star, I would also like to not be woken up at 2 am by my baby pulling my hair and pushing me out of bed, followed by screams of "I want water!"

I know, I am asking for magic faeries to fly out of my butt to help me but I am desperate to sleep a decent night's sleep.

On the plus side, due to the lack of sleep, I do get quite a bit of cleaning done. While my husband battles it out with the baby, I go through all the piles of crap that keep building up in our room. See? Optimism! I have joined a group of lovies who are helping keep each other inspired to spring clean the house. Get into a pattern where the laundry gets done every week and doesn't pile up. Scrub the kitchen floors so you can safely eat off of them (or so Chunko can continue to do so). Go through those old boxes full of "Why the hell do I have napkins from 2005?" and "Do I really need the Taco Bell receipt from 2008?"

It is so nice to have the energy (or pretend to, let's be honest) to clean! I am excited for our evil plans to work and for Chunko to repeatedly sleep through the night in his bed... It will happen. It has to happen. Please, let it happen...

So Then I Improvised

Chunko is almost completely potty trained (day AND night time thankyouverymuch)!!! I used our very last diaper/ pull-up to blow my nose in the car the other day so we are officially out!!! I am ECSTATIC!!!!

A very small downside is that when the kid says he has to go potty, he doesn't always have to go. But of course, if we ignore him, that will be when he has an accident. Then he wets himself, and the carseat and whatever else he peed on and it is all my fault for ignoring him.

We are in the car outside of Fart Bone's school and waiting in line to pick him up after school. We are trapped in a sea of parental SUVs and mini vans. That is when nature picks up her phone and calls my two year old.

"Mommy, I have go pee."
"What??? Now???"
"Yes, I have go pee"
"Are you sure???"
"Mommy, I have go NOW!!"

I cannot pull over. I cannot park. I cannot abandon my car, run in the school and back. I mildly freak out wondering why I chose today to clean out my car. I catch a glimpse of an empty water bottle and grasp it like it my saving grace. I hand it to Chunko and tell him to pee in the bottle.

At this point he has already unstrapped himself from his car seat in order to pace the car, chanting about his need for relief. He is standing in front of the front passenger seat and proceeds to pull his pants down. I keep trying to get his penis in the water bottle so he can pee... and then I look up. Into the slightly shocked and completely horrified face of the driver next to me. The woman who is acting like she has never had the opportunity to make her toddler pee in a bottle. The woman who my son is happily waving to, both hands, while I hold a bottle to his penis.

Then the bell rings, and the kids swarm. I realize my son is joyously making a spectacle of himself so I tell him to climb into the back seat to pee. He climbs back there, I reset the bottle and nothing. Apparently, the kid can only pee if people are watching? Like he has the opposite of shy bladder? Is that public bladder?

He pulls his pants up and hands me the empty bottle, "I don't have go pee, Mommy" as he climbs out of my reach. He is so lucky I had to move that car right at that moment or I would have throttled him! He sits in his carseat, buckles back up and acts like I am the crazy one!!

And let me tell you, after almost three years of this kid... Maybe I am.

Inner Peace Makes You Go Oooommmm

I am having a very hard time with anger lately. I strive to let it go and move away from it. I try not to let it into my home or my heart but I am not made of stone and I do have a temper.

I feel that I was searching for an answer when I wasn't even looking and I found this quote today:

It was the perfect reminder for me. I needed to remember to let my anger go so I wouldn't end up burning myself. I can't allow myself to become angry and bitter. I love that this popped up in front of me when I first opened my computer and it was just a happy accident that my coworker is slightly computer incompetent.

I will not focus on the negative, only on the positive (even if that was negative to say that).

I am breathing in the wonderful and breathing out the anger.
I am breathing in my love and breathing out the jealousy.
I am breathing in peace and breathing out the war inside my heart.

 

Catching Up With Myself

I am on my deathbed, sick as all hell. I have chosen to take this time to update my blog. Our lives are a wee bit hectic and if I can't take five minutes to write a blurb, then I need to reschedule stuff pronto.

In October, our family went to Disneyland, Sea World and Universal Studios. It was a week of vacation overload and it was amazing!! It seems that as soon as we crossed state lines, Chunko decided he was capable of speaking full and clear sentences. Out of nowhere, he was making demands and spinning his wild baby tales. He was tattling and begging to go on rides right along with his brother and sister.

My baby is 10!!! How on earth did he go from 4 o 10 overnight?!?! It is so hard to look at this boy and realize that he is just around the corner of teen mania. He is maturing too fast. He is super smart and somehow manages to be the Teacher's Pet but also the Class Clown. I adore his goofy jokes and crazy faces.

November and December are a whirlwind. Lots of family time and lots of parties. Every weekend was some sort of gathering. Christmas was so wonderful. It was marred by some difficult behavior but it was still amazing.

2013 has not yet brought good tidings for us. It has brought some and I am trying to focus on them but the more negative aspects are still a little prominent. We were hit by some very large unexpected medical charges and my love's car broke down and needed some fixins.

What has hit me hardest is my grandmother's passing. I am trying to mourn her to the best of my ability but due to circumstances I (who works in a funeral home) have been blocked out of helping.

I have also lost my fragile relationship with my mother. What could have easily been fixed, was allowed to waste away and rot. I am in a depression and am mourning my loss of her, too. While she has not passed, I still feel that it will be a great amount time before this can be healed, if ever.

That is hard to say. Nobody wants to be without their Mommy but I haven't had mine in years.

I am NOT focusing on the negative! I refuse to.

My sister graduated Suma Cum Laude with her Bachelor's degree!!! I am in awe of her. A single mom for too long, working full time, going to school full time. Then, she meets a great man, marries him and graduates Suma Cum Laude!! I teared up watching her walk across that stage and receive her degree and handshake.

My other sister and I did a quirky road trip to watch her graduate and sneak in some fun time at Castles & Coasters. It was crazy and if it had been with anyone else, it could have gotten ugly quickly. My niece cried pretty much the whole time we were in the car. She is lucky she is so adorable or the person sitting next to her (ie, me) might have strapped her carseat to the roof of the car. My nephew vomited fruit loops on the way there. I will not be eating those for a looooooong time. The smell is still stuck in my nose. My gooboo threw up as we pulled into the parking lot of our motel. We had a smidge of time to clean up, shove the four crazy babies back in the car and make it to the graduation. The next day we partied at Castles & Coasters. The babies loved the coasters. My niece was miffed she couldn't ride the bigger rides (cause she's a midget) and Chunko could (cause he's a beast). Of course, on the way back, my gooboo threw up all over the car, which started a chain of gagging from the rest of us. We were in 20 degree weather wiping down my son, wiping down the car and gagging. Thankfully the rest stop restroom was very well heated and the cashier was very understanding.

My job has gotten incredibly busy with new expectations. I thrive on it but I am learning how to manage my time better. I went from some work here and there to holy hell in less than a month. I am used to my desk having neat piles here and there and now it is usually covered in paperwork. My OCD cries regularly. I have my own desk! I am so excited. I haven't had my own desk in a long time. I share it on the weekends but we all share our desks at some point. I am no longer reception and have been moved to admin. No more phonecalls but lots more paperwork.

I know we are only a month into 2013 and I am eager to see what it brings us. Normally, after a downpour such as this, we are blessed with sunshine so I am excited for this to pass. Cause as they say "this too shall pass" and it will.

Here is a pic of my two poor sick babies, no one is safe from my camera:

Gym Rat-a-Tat

One day I allowed my sister to convince me to go to a yoga class. While I was there, my husband sneakily signed me up for a gym membership. Being the cheapskate that I am, I have been using it. If I'm locked in for two years then I'm going to the gym for two years. If I have to frickin pay for it, then I am going to use the crap out of it..

And now I have become a gym rat...

I have gained some weight that I want to have magically fall off (like every body else) and I started doing cardio (cause I know what that means now) and lifting weights.

Unfortunately, my husband thought that I should be lifting weights as he does and I had to explain that I didn't want "man back" and to be overly muscular.

Like this:

This may be wonderful for some people (and wow if you can stick to it) but definitely not me. My suits already don't fit right, imagine over those shoulders? So while we both know I can curl 60 pounds with my biceps, I don't need to do it as part of my workout.

My sister goes with us and we're dedicated to keeping each other on track. All three of us (my sister, husband and I) slump over to the gym and gossip on the elliptical or track. People around us aren't always fond of our conversational direction but I've noticed more than a few listening intently.

At first, I would dread the one day a week we had to go. I already had zumba, why must I do more???? I would whine and find lame excuses as to why I couldn't go. Then I started looking forward to our gym days. I felt good after our workouts (and gossip fests) and I was more eager to go more often. Now we're up to three days a week (off and on depending on schedules) and I still have my zumba class. I love being able to spend time with my sister and having quirky gym dates with my husband.

I have my cute little gym bag, my own lock and even went out and bought new shoes. Apparently converse tennies aren't gym appropriate? Whatevs.

I haven't lost any weight. In fact I've gained. (*Enter sad face*) I was really upset about it but my muscles are toned and my biceps are huge. I am laying off the bicep curls and spending more time on the ab twisty machine (love that one!!!).

I know I am not going to have "those" abs... the ones we dream of and hate those who have them:

 

*Sigh*

But I am determined to get back to and stay in the 150's. I am happiest there and it's only just a couple of pounds away.
But if I don't, oh well.

I would cut out carbs and count my calories (again) and work out every day if I knew that within a month, maybe two, I could have that body but it ain't happening. Even when I was 117, it wasn't happening.

I'm just going to keep on swimming, swimming, swimming (sorry Finding Nemo is Chunko's latest obsession).

And hope that someday soon I can have this again...

*crunch, crunch, crunch*

I swear this is my last bag of potato chips... Today... Maybe


Ps, why do people get buck naked in the locker rooms??????? Did you really need to drop your towel and lotion your body in the center on the locker area? Did you really need to shower with the stall door open???? Did you need to have a towl on your head while you stand NAKED talking on your phone and itching your inner coot???????
WTH people???? Wrap a towel around you and shut the stall doors!!
I walk with my head down and eyes to the ground. I may run into walls and accidentally knock down signs but I am NOT seeing this stuff if I don't have to... Yikes

Pretending to Know

Lately, I seemed to have been consumed by the need for another baby. I don’t want more kids but my lady clock was still ticking and counting down until the next baby. I guess no one explained to her that I couldn’t get pregnant again. These past few weeks have put her in check and now I am in sync. I do not want another baby (No matter how cute I think it would be to name it Waffles or B.E.R.T.). We have our hands full and we are just now, after 2 ½ years, getting into a routine that we like. We can finally travel without the pack ‘n’ play, the 4 diaper bags, diapers and formula and extra bottles and rattles and teethers and… And all just so we can go grocery shopping. I know that some moms can accomplish the potty training while breast feeding (and I’m seriously in awe that you can) but I know that isn’t for us. I’m glad that I can spend quality time with Chunko and revel in his baby-ness.

I know that the last time I wrote I seemed a little out of control and in all honesty, I was. I was overwhelmed by the constant fighting and I was tired. I’ve gotten some amazing advice from my mommy group and friends and have been able to put it to practice and have succeeded! The first week was hard but I could already feel that we were on the right path and so it made me more determined to get it right.

I give one warning and the threat of timeout if he continues. Then (this is hard part #1) I follow through with timeout if he does it again. He has to stay in his time out corner, same corner every time, for 2 minutes. If he gets out, it’s starts over. I don’t give time off for good behavior or for making me laugh (hard part #2) and we learned that the “Timeout Chair” is a great idea for others but definitely not for ours. He thinks it’s fun to throw said chair and has the strength to cause serious damage. After his full two minutes we remind him why he is in timeout and go about our day.

Sounds super easy, right? Narf!

It was hard the first three days but now he actually stops doing his bad behavior when he receives a threat of timeout! We can’t seem to get him to stop picking of my China Doll niecey but we’re working on that.

In the mean time, I have stepped back and have done some serious thinking about our boys. I realized that they are growing and really fast and that nitpicking is only going to make it all go by faster. I am stopping and appreciating our days together. I am literally stopping to smell the roses with them and I am so much calmer (work is stressing me out but at home I am calm). I sit and build lego houses for Chunko to destroy and I am photographing Fart Bone’s latest alien warrior. I miss my chunky ball Michelin baby that Fart Bone used to be and if I keep freaking over spilled milk, I’m going to be stuck wondering where Chunko’s baby years went, too.

I’ve also decided that I am taking my camera with me everywhere (except work, nobody wants to see that). My loving husband went out and hunted a nice camera for me to practice and really enjoy shooting with and I have poorly abused it with neglect. I haven’t downloaded the pictures that are on it since June!!! That is the beginning of a horror story for me. My sister and I have both agreed to get out there and shoot! We have already scheduled a fun shoot for this weekend and another one for November. We have to get those creative juices flowing and create, create, create!

I feel more at peace than I have in while and it feels good to get back to me, who I am and what I want (other than shoes).

Ps, thank you MMMs, you guys are always there for me, no matter how crazy the questions get!!!!!!

Blessed With a Hellion

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother pretending that I am smarter than the 2 year old. I swear we should just quit our day jobs and dedicate our lives to fulfilling every single nutty demand Chunko can dream of. Just when I think we've managed to out maneuver him, he goes sprinting past us, laughing, to destroy our well thought out plans. We need to buy jester hats to complete our new persona.

Okay, so maybe I'm being a smidgen over-dramatic... likemaybethismuch

Chunko thought it was so great to take my car keys, unlock the doors and climb in the driver's seat. He would shut the door and give me a kiss goodbye. He learned how to turn the key so the battery would come on and he could listen to his jams. I thought it was super cute. Then he started my car and locked me out! Thankfully, he was more interested in the radio than the gear shift. Then I realized that with his height and new found skills, my 2 year old could probably steal my car! Needless to say, he's not allowed to touch my car keys anymore.

I know that I am incredibly lenient towards him but I find myself questioning every parental choice I've made. I had a firm set of parent guidelines that I believed in and chose to follow. I will spank my kids and smack their hands. I yell when I am mad and I use timeouts. I use more emotional and psychological tactics with my oldest because he psyches himself out more than I ever could spanking him.

I feel that lately, that isn't enough. Actually, I feel more that it's good for my oldest but that it's not right for Chunko. It's not the best way to approach our bull child. I spank him, he spanks my nephew. I take the toy from him and he takes a toy from my niece. I throw a snack pack for my husband (not at him, but for him) and Chunko thinks it's okay to throw everything across the room.

I am becoming frustrated with our lack of control of the situations and Chunko... We're trying to find our footing and I can't help but to feel unprepared.

We're finally, finally, finally getting into a great rhythm of getting him to go to sleep and stay asleep. We've had a month of only one wake up per night and we've had a week of no wake ups. We still have battles over when it's time for bed and if we don't read ALL of the right bedtime stories, then we get screaming nightmare child. Thankfully our nighttime battles rarely take longer than an hour and then he's down for the count. It's almost as if he hadn't used up all his energy for the day and had to expel it somehow.

Most restaurants have banned us from coming back. Even fast food ones. Okay, not really but we've personally banned eating out for a bit. If it doesn't have a play place, we smile sadly as we drive by. Chunko doesn't fit in highchairs anymore so we can't buckle him in with any hope of keeping him still.

Admittedly we realized that we have been smacking Chunko more often than not and we decided to try other forms of discipline...Some nights it ends up looking like a poor version of The Three Stooges. Chunko throws his lego at the TV, I smack Chunko, Chunko smacks me back, I smack Chunko, he smacks me back, I smack Chunko, he smacks his brother, his brother smacks him back and his dad smacks Chunko.... On and on until someone gets their eye poked out.

I was at the end of my rope on Friday and so instead of smacking him, I put him in the corner for a timeout. He walked out of the corner and laughed at me. I put him back into the corner and he kicks the wall and walks away. Rinse and repeat for 10 minutes. I get his chair and put him in the chair in the corner. He pushes the chair back and walks away. I pick him up and put him back in his chair. He gets up and walks away. Rinse and repeat for five minutes. I storm out to the garage, grab a bungee cord and bind him to the chair in the corner. He giggles and gets up and walks away. End scene with me saying that 20 minutes of fighting over him being in the corner counts as a timeout... It does, right?

Chunko goes and brings his chair to his sister, makes her sit down in it and straps her to the chair. Then he pushes her over to the corner and makes her sit in timeout.Then he does the same with Brother. That means he gets the point but not the idea. Or that he gets both but he knows who wears the pants in our family (actually he doesn't wear pants at all but not my point).

We're still trying to find the right balance between having a toddler that we have to warn people about before they come over and "accidentally" feeding my kid to the tigers at the Mirage (Those tigers are still there, right? They have dolphins, too, right? Those will work).

Raising Godzilla

You know that parent that is whispering poor judgements about your parenting as your child screams and thrashes about on the floor while you calmly sit at the table ignoring everything but the ice cream cone you are eating? That used to be me. I judged you and it wasn't kind. I expected your child to cry but then I expected you to discipline your child into calming down. Period. There was no reason for your child to scream or kick and if they did, then you were to remove them from the area. If you had the poor parenting audacity to actually offer the child a sweet treat or a bribe to quiet them, oh well then, you were Satan.

I understood tantrums, or at least I thought I did, and I understood that the best way to end them was to walk away. The child would see that you were no longer standing in fascination of their performance and come running after you, sniveling apologies for being a brat.

I wasn't inexperienced when I made these judgements of you. I had already had my first child and he was an angel. I didn't fully appreciate his angelic nature until I had Chunko... or Godzilla Baby as we like to call him while he destroys our house and surrounding areas.

I AM SO SO SO VERY SORRY!!!

I cannot even begin to apologize enough to those I judged. I know that a very small fraction of the people I judged deserved it and I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the mom that hasn't slept 7 straight hours in 4 years and is trying to read a book and eat a hot meal for the first time since giving birth. I'm talking to the mom trying to finish the grocery shopping while dragging her screaming 2 year old behind her like a dust mop because it's the only way to keep them from running away. I'm talking to the mom at the mall who keeps offering the baby cookies to keep her in the stroller and out of the display cases.

Chunko lies down in the middle of the floor and refuses to move, not caring one bit if it's in the middle of a busy walkway. He tries to jump from the moving shopping cart and tries to scale the aisle shelves. He thinks clothing racks are fortresses to be stormed. Straps and leashes are a joke. I'm sure it must be a riot to see my 2 year old flip himself over in the stroller and then crawl off still strapped in the stroller. When I walk away from his floor pounding tantrums, he just gets up and follows me. His screams become more panicked and he starts grabbing for me, trying to climb up my leg.

To make my struggles even more difficult is his size. Wrestling an angry 40 pound 2 year old is the same as trying to rope a greased pig while wearing oily rubber gloves.

I ask now for what I could not give before. I ask for understanding. I don't ask for help and frankly, say what you will about my parenting. I ask that you keep your snide comments on mute until I am past you. I can hear you over the screaming child and if I don't, my older kids can. Then they ask me why you're such a witch and I have to find the proper words to nicely explain your rudeness.

I ask that you look beyond the situation and know that you don't know the circumstances. You may see me struggling with an ill tempered 4 year old, but I'm actually struggling with a just barely turned 2 year old. He's allowed a little leeway behaviorally, I would think. I shouldn't have to walk around explaining to every passerby that he's only 2.

I know that I am getting what I have given for years and that is why I don't say anything back to the looky-loos. I just smile and walk on by or smile as I give Chunko another cookie. That's right, look at my "terrible" 2 year old, go home, and thank the heavens your child "never would act like that."

I Never Get What I Want

I thought that my husband was my twin at heart.
I thought that he understood my level of thinking but now I'm wondering if I was horribly wrong.

We went out (alone with no kids!!!!!) to see Ted (<---- so very wrong, but so very very very funny) and as we were standing in line, I brought up my desire for a new acquisition....

Me: Honey, I want a taxidermied pony with wings like a Pegasus
My Love: What????
Me: *large dramatic sigh* I want a taxidermied pony with wings sewn on like a Pegasus
My Love: What the hell???
Me: I'm assuming it can't be more than $800
My Love: That's so much better but I don't understand
Me: The Bloggess bought a pony and it has wings like a Pegasus and I want one!
My Love: Hell no!
Me: But it's a pony...
My Love: You want to kill a pony and sew wings on it?
Me: No, I want an already dead pony with wings already sewn on it. It's dead and stuffed and we don't have to feed it or pick up it's poo. Fart Bone will love it!
My Love: No... No... No.... No
Me: What is the issue? I didn't get the giant metal rooster (like Beyonce) I asked for and I think this far more appealing than that and the HOA can't complain because it'll be in our house, not in the yard.
My Love: No.... No.... No.... No
Me: I want it and I think I deserve it
My Love: What on earth would you do with a dead pony?
Me: Well, actually I'd be totally creeped out by it and probably end up dancing around and poking it with a stick until it got a bald spot. Then I'd put it in the playroom so the kids could break it and I could blame them for the bald spot. I might even be able to use it to punish Fart Bone. You know? As in, be good or you'll have to touch the Pegasus...
My Love: No... .No... No... No.... No.... No....

Don't worry.
No animals were harmed in my quest for a Pegasus.
Cause my husband told me No and he doesn't understand me at all.

Annnd I didn't get the giant metal rooster either.

Boo

I mean, seriously, how can you possibly say No this this slice of awesomeness?!?!?!?



Ps, The Bloggess struggled to convince her husband, too and still was able to obtain one so there is still hope for me. I see it as an "Everybody Wins" kind of deal

Quitting Isn't Always Losing

I have made a few rather difficult confessions on this blog, but this... this has to be one of the hardest ones. My battle with being skinny nor the admittance of our bankruptcy is comparable to this.

After five years of trying, my love and I have decided to quit. We have tried all that we can imagine and now the only thing we can offer is time.

I'm talking about his oldest daughter, of course.

Five years of anger and aggression and five years of a father and a daughter not talking (or at least, not nicely) has worn us down. He has tried calling, texting, emailing and even snail mail letter writing in hopes of rebuilding something of what they used to have. I even tried a few times to reach out only to be slapped back with silence. The silence, I think, is far more brutal and harsh than a simple "Not ready" or a "No thank you" or even a "Frack off." It adds the element of hope that the answer will come soon and then it never does. No news is not always good news. The absolute lack of answer is much more hurtful than a rude one because it says that he's just not worth it to her.

It seems that about every six months one of us will get the itch to try again. Maybe there was a pleasant conversation or a good phone call. Maybe there's just a father worried about his daughter and wanting to let her know he's there for her. But we can't keep doing this to ourselves. There has to come a time to stop and say "When she is ready, she will call." If that is never, then we'll have to accept her wishes, even if we don't agree with them.

We talked about this for a very long time and we realized it has to end. We are torturing ourselves over this and it's just been far too much for way too long. He tried one last time and got the usual lack of acknowledgment.

Neither one of us wanted to accept that this is the path we have to take. It's upsetting, even a little infuriating, to have to decide this. We had to understand that it is our loss but it is hers, too. I hope someday it can be different and far better but until then we have to step back and move on.

And now we are done.

Cause I Made Myself Promises

At the beginning of 2011 I originally promised myself some easy things I thought I could follow through on. Then, a month later, I followed up on those promises... Then I dropped it. I kept the promises in the back of my mind but never really showed any progress.

So a year and a few months later, here it is and where I stand.

1. Get back down to 150 - I got down to a very happy 153 and then I shot back up to 163. I couldn't figure out how in the heck I was eating healthy and exercising (yeah, I gave in and started) and I gained weight! Then I did a few calculations and realized I was eating almost 3,000 calories a day. More than my husband when he was training for his triathlons. Oops. I go to Zumba once a week but they might cancel my classes. I am sad because I doubt I'll find another class as amazing as this one. The classes are small, we all laugh as we go and we can pick the songs we want to do for the day. If they do, my sister's will get gym memberships with me and we'll hold each other accountable, so either way, I'll benefit.

2. Make our wedding album - I am currently doing the final touches on our wedding albums. I am taking advantage of an amazing deal and am going to get free shipping and three $90 books for less than $30. Score!!!!

3. Make my sister's wedding album - If I finish in time, I'd like to do a similar deal for my sister's wedding albums, too. If not, then I will save up and get it done. She deserves to be able to flip through and see all her beautiful pictures. She looked mag that day and totally should be able to see it.

4. Scrapbook my loose pictures - Um... Yeah. It takes a lot of work and a lot of fighting with Chunko to pull out my scrap booking tubs and get started on it. I rarely have enough peace to shower, eat my own dinner or watch a TV show, so I'm not putting this on the top of my priority list. On top of that I realized I have to scan Fart Bone's baby pictures before I cut them up and glue them somewhere because I need to share those with others. Buuuutttt... I'm going to just claim I ran out of double sided sticky tape and I can't go forward until I remember to buy more. That's my story.

5. Showering my love with love - I am going to vote this as a fail. We've had a tough time adjusting to a very attention greedy and busy baby, along with all of our everyday chores and responsibilities. We've fought quite a bit because of short tempers and lack of sleep. It has really sucked but in it we have developed a new friendship with each other. We talk a lot and we are learning to talk out the issues before it grows into a fight. I've learned I am madly in love with my husband and have fallen in love with him as a good friend, too.

6. Working through our debt - We had an amazing plan that would have solved all the monetary problems within 3 years and then one of the debtors was a dick and made ridiculous demands (Um, no, you cannot have free access to our bank accounts). I am going to admit, painfully, that we have filed for bankruptcy and are in a five year plan to pay back our debts. It's hard to say to people and embarrassing to share but I feel better knowing we could have done it on our own before the debtor fought with us. We had no choice, we really didn't. We worked for three years to not have to choose this path but we were making no head way. We didn't even dent the interest accumulated. Now, we have a set goal and are actually better off than we were on our own. I have to say it was one of the better decisions we have ever made. We have 4 years, 5 months and 9 days before our final payment (there's an app for that!!).

7. Clean our garage - I have done this many, many times over. My love doesn't park in it and has no shown no real desire to do so in the future. Our garage isn't as neat as I would like it but is far neater than most garages and I can easily step out and find what I need. It will have to do until I can design the cabinets and shelves I want and buy the dream tool box. *Sigh* organizing is so hot.

8. Quit obsessing - I don't know what to call this. I'm not bombing but I'm not passing with flying colors. Something happened around Christmas time and things got awkward between us and the ex/ OSD. I don't know if it was stress or if we effed things up but it just felt... weird. We tried so many times to talk to OSD and we have tried to be accommodating for his ex but we can't seem to please anybody over there. I really wish things could be completely opposite of how it is. I do over think it and I tend to look through rose tinted glasses but it is so frickin aggravating!!! So yeah, fine, it's a fail. I am still obsessing. I want things to be nice and fair and I am not getting ANY cooperation.

9. Mending broken fences - I have tried to move on from the past with certain people in my life and I have extended my hand to others. Both haven't worked. It's all just being ignored. I've realized that I cannot control other people and that as long as I live considerately and in peace with myself, then that's all I can do. I am always open to be nice to anybody who wants to talk but I am going to step back and try to let them live as they choose. I may think they are miserable without me in their life (cause I'm awesome) but they very well maybe be happy without me, my husband or my kids. I cannot make them talk to me, so I will just be open if they change their mind.

10. Sending special occasion cards - Yup, I suck. I'm going to set this aside for some time. I was sending them late and then not at all. I really want to be that person that remembers to send cards for everything but I really suck. I barely remember what I wore yesterday. I did find this great daily planner/ journal book. I suck so far (we already went over this) but I am making it my goal to write at least 2 sentences for every day. We did a service for a woman who had a daily journal entry for every day for 76 years!!! She recorded her wedding day and all of her children's births. It was awe-inspiring. See? My ADD took over and I've already forgotten what I was writing.

We'll see where this year takes us and where we're at in another year...

He Thinks He Can Pee in His Legos

OMG, I'm about to blog about pee... Turn away now

We are in the midst of potty training Chunko...
Or at least I think we are.
We may just be in the middle of teaching him that he can pee in cups, or outside, or in his Legos, or, if he aims just right, on Sister.

This kid never wears clothes anymore. It's a battle to keep his pants on when we go to the water park. It's a war to keep his pants on at the grocery store. We have started using secret catch phrases when he's around because if you say  "Pee, P or Toilet" He's naked and pointing his tinker toy at something.

That's progress, right? We're on the right track, aren't we??????

The nudity I can handle. Fart Bone used to strip down naked and spend hours rubbing his wanker-doodle on the sliding glass door and waving at passerby... Yep, we were That house that no one walked by. He also pulled his pants and undies down while we were at Universal Studios (Yep, not letting him live that one down). So, this is nothing in comparison. Yet.

He follows me every time I try to use the bathroom... Only me. If I mention I'm using the restroom, he will follow me screaming and pushing me, so I can't close the door without him there. I don't remember when peeing became a doubles sport but I have no choice. If I dare close and lock the door on him or sneak away (which is even harder cause he watches me like a hawk), he will bang and kick the door until I open it.

So usually he follows me in...

Then he watches me. Stares at me and waits. He stands there staring at me with a wad of toilet paper, waiting. I know it sounds creepy but that's only because it is. Then when I am done, he'll check the potty and then praise me. Yep, I get "Good, Momma" when I make the pee-pees now. Yaaaaaaaaayyyyy me!

He pees in the potty and has even pooped a couple of times. He's doing a great job, we're just working on his consistency. He really likes to be naked so he doesn't mind the peeing part. He likes to try to stick his tinker toy into his toys (he's a boy, of course he does) but now he's trying to see what he can pee on or in. He lined up five of his Legos, upside down and then took the stance. Thankfully, we caught him but he went right to the Legos bag and tried to pee in there. I don't know if this is a territory thing or if this is a boy thing. Fart Bone never went this far (or I blocked it out... either way).

All weekend I spent chasing him as he tried to pee on his sister and he even tried to cross streams while his brother was peeing. I am NOT dealing with that! No way, no how!

All I know is that if we don't get him trained soon, he's going to be wearing adult diapers. He's already in the last pull-ups size... Not that we have a deadline or anything. No pressure, yeesh.

If They Would Just Stop Growing

Both of my crazy boys are growing so very fast. I keep getting emotional as I watch them become their own person and develop their insane personalities.

Fart Bone is crazy. Period.

Hello, he agreed to be named Fart Bone!

He volunteered to let us name his first born child Waffles (boo-ya!) and he's an avid reader. His vocabulary is outstanding. He got his golden sight words tag (998/ 1000 words pronounced correctly) and he graduated the third grade with straight A's!!

Jamma took him this weekend and spoiled him ROTTEN to celebrate. It's amazing how much spoiling can be done in 24 hours.

For the summer, he'll be practicing both his 3rd and 4th grade exercise books and participating in the library reading programs with his cousins. I'm desperately trying to find a pool we can go to that isn't the YMCA (they use far too much chlorine and their rules plain suck) so he can practice his swimming again.. In the meantime we have our mini backyard pool that the kids adore.

We're also looking for a new bike for him. His last one died from total lack of attention but he's begging to get one again, so we'll see.

He is 63lbs and 58 inches. He's lean and strong. His ab muscles are out of control and he asks us to knock on them a lot.

He's still an attention whore and a total comedian and I can't stand that he's going to be 10 in less than 6 months! *Wah!!!!!!!!!*

Then there's Chunko, who I swear forgets that he's just barely 2 years old. He's decided that anything any of us can do, he can do... better.

Great.

He strolls around the house. He climbs on counters. He opens both the front door and the door leading to the garage. He locks our bedroom door in the morning in the hopes that it will keep us snuggled up to him longer. He brings me my tennis shoes on Wednesdays when I go to Zumba without my even asking for them. He knows which shoes are for which days.

The other night my love and I were talking about how one of us had to go downstairs to get Chunko a diaper for after his bath. Chunko wandered off to be naked as he usually does ( this kid rarely wears clothes anymore) and we kept arguing. A few moments later Chunko came back with not only a diaper but also his selection of pajamas for the night.

When he wants a drink, he'll bring us his choice of drink and his preferred sippy cup. I think he tries to separate his drinks by cup style. He likes apple juice in his Cars cups but powerade in his green jungle cups... Hmmm...

He's currently potty training himself. He woke one morning and peed in his potty. We rewarded him with candy and he looked at us as if to ask "Well, why didn't you tell me??? I could have been getting candy this whole time!"
He pees on both his baby potty and the normal toilet, just depends on his mood. He barely fits his potty chair and is too tall to stand and pee in it. He practices using the bigger toilet but doesn't like how far away it is. He hasn't completely stopped using a diaper but he's so much closer. He asks to use the potty when we're out running errands and he's woken twice in the middle of the night to pee. We haven't had a thing to do with it. He goes in the bathroom, sits on the potty, wipes, flushes and washes his hands. It's insane to watch him do it. Now that he knows he can get candy sometimes he'll pee just a bit, get his candy and then pee again so he can get more.
Stinker.

He also got his first haircut... I feel like he went from 2 years to 10 years in one snip of the scissors. I keep staring at him. I can't figure out who this kid is that looks so much like my baby but isn't. I wish I could glue his hair back on. I hate it. I'm adjusting but it still makes me so very sad.

He isn't much of a talker still. He is saying so many new words though. He calls his binky his "baby" and he says "No" all the time (in proper context, of course). He doesn't just say "No" to everything, but if he doesn't want to do it, he's gonna let you know.
He is saying more words on a regular basis but not as much as some other kids his age (like his cousin who's a mini parrot).

His tantrums are not as bad as I think they could be but we tend to let him do as he wishes. Actually, I do, my love is still trying to argue over who's more stubborn.
The baby's winning, fyi.
He's so much easier to deal with if you explain to him what's going on and if you let him do the same as the big kids.
If Brother isn't holding your hand and neither is Sister... then why should I? If Brother gets 6 chicken nuggets... where's mine? If Sister can do her own ketchup, then so can I. If Brother is running screaming through the store, then guess where I'll be... yada, yada, yada.

He's quite the music critic. He demands the station be changed if he doesn't like the song and if I dare change it from a song he likes, then he will scream until it's back. He loves to sing and is actually pretty good. He favors the TV show tunes (like Two and a Half Men or Big Bang or Family Guy) because they are brief but he likes music in general.

We're finally getting into a pleasant groove with sleep time and play times. He is getting better about being able to play by himself even though he prefers not to. We're in the middle of night time sleep battles but it's an on and off thing we've grown accustomed to.

He's hitting the brink of 39lbs (38.9lbs... Are you kidding me!?!?!) and still about 37 1/4inches.
I miss my wee lil chunky baby guy. I might have to start calling him JJ soon cause Chunko he is not.