Monday, March 30, 2009

CJ & The Clementine

This past week my mom was ill and since she takes care of CJ, usually I'm out of a babysitter when this happens. But last week my sister, Cat, stayed with us and watched him while I went to work. She used to live with us but now she lives back at home because it's closer to school. She attends night classes for dental assisting and works part time Fri- Sun. More on stories of her adventures w/ CJ later. But Friday I had to stay home with him. Not that I mind, at all. :-)
He and I went to a local grocery market before picking up WC from preschool. He sat in the shopping cart that was shaped like a car and had steering wheel. He was fairly quiet the whole time- so I didnt pay as much attention to what he was doing as I should have been. When I got to the checkout counter I discovered in the car with him: two plastic cups, a roll of aluminum foil, a jar of pickles, a bag of marshmallows and in his hand one small orange. I give the cashier these items and tell her that I didnt need those. But he's not giving up the orange. Fine, I will purchase the small orange- it cant cost that much. But she needs the code off the sticker that's on the orange in order to ring it. Between me & two bag boys we finally manage to see the numbers. But a problem- one we cant get it away to weigh it but that becomes a non-issue when the numbers ring up for Clementine at $9.99. Now, i'm not paying $10 for one tiny orange- he'd just have to scream. The cashier calls the manager over to void out the $9.99. And she says that they come in a crate for that much. They dont have the Clementines sold individually. But she's so amused by CJ & his devotion to this small orange that she lets us just have it.
Then in between the grocery and the preschool he manages to poke a hole in the orange with his thumb and squeaze juice out all over himself. Luckily I carry a beach towel in the car and can dry him up- doesnt help the stickiness. He clings tight to his blanket & thumb punctured orange while we go in the preschool. And the story has to be told to several people.
On the way home I'm contemplating what to do once we get there. I dont want him taking in the orange and squeazing the juice out inside the house. But it had been raining and ground outside wet. The decision was made to let them play outside in the wet yard. He carried that Clementine around for the longest but finally placed it on the ground while he picked dandelions. With his back turned I quietly slipped the orange in my jacket pocket. Then ushered them inside and straight to the bathtub.

Monday, March 23, 2009

CJ drops the F Bomb and other things you hope your kids never say out loud

Kids: You spend the first 2 years of their life teaching them to walk and talk . . . Then you spend the next 16 telling them to sit down and shut-up.

Jay calls me the other morning after he dropped WC off at preschool. Whenever he calls me after the child is out of the car I know it’s going to be a story that we aren’t supposed to laugh at in front of him. He tells me that he & WC were horse playing around before they left the house. WC bounced off of Jay’s behind and announces, “You’re butts almost as big as Miss Jane’s.” Now, Miss Jane, a teacher at his preschool has never been accused of being a small woman. But I’m mortified because I try my best to instill in him that size, shape and color in people do not matter in whether or not they are good people. Then Jay proceeds to tell me that on their drive to school that WC is talking about a book that he likes to look at. And in this book the bad guy is quite large. Then WC announces, “He’s fat. Miss Jane isn’t fat. She just has a big butt.” Please don’t let him say stuff like this out loud around other people. Then WC tells Jay that the villain in his story has a very large belly- “Almost as big as yours, daddy.” Boy that kid was on a roll. I’ve been told before by a teacher in his previous room that he says the most “interesting” things. I won’t ask what. If I ever want to know if I look fat in something all I need to do is ask him. I can guarantee you that I will not be asking…
He got out of bed the other night just to come and ask me if Zebra’s were white w/ black stripes or black w/ white stripes.
A few weeks back my mom calls me at work. She watches CJ during the day and if she calls it usually isn’t good. The first thing she says when I answer, “We have to teach CJ how to say truck properly.” I burst out laughing because I instantly know what word he’s using instead. She tells me that a truck drove past the house and CJ ran to the window screaming, “F---, F---!” And she yells back, “No, its truck, tr-uck, tr-uck.” And he turns to her smiles and scream, “F---, F---, F---!” And she just wanted me to know that way when he said it again I wouldn’t think he picked it up from her. Great now I can’t wait to leave him in the church nursery. A few nights later he & WC were in the bathtub. WC holds up a toy truck turns to CJ and asked, “What does a car say?” CJ grins & yells, “F---!” WC doesn’t miss a beat and says, “No…silly a car says vroom vroom. Maybe if a car is being driven by my mom it says the “f” word. Now that the weather’s gotten nicer outside and we’ve had the windows open CJ stands in front of the open window staring out at the truck across the street screaming “F---.” And to add more fuel as to whether or not the neighbors think I’m raising a potty mouth baby- the other evening after we arrived home my WC wanted to ride his bike. So I said we could spend a few minutes out in the driveway. Our neighbors a couple houses down were having mattresses delivered and nice large delivery truck sat on the side of the road. CJ, stands in the middle of the front yard staring down the street yelling at the top of his lungs what sounds to everyone in ear shot like a profanity. And to make matters worse (yes, worse) the work fork now sounds exactly like his word for truck. Now at the dinner table I get to hear him chant it like a school fight song. Note to self: Do not invite the pastor over for dinner anytime soon.

*Special Note: thinking about my late godson today. Alex was born into heaven 4 months ago today. I miss not getting to know him.

Friday, March 20, 2009

How Could I Argue With the Logic?

Usually our morning routine involves Jay dressing the children for day while I make the breakfasts and lunches for everyone so we can all get out of the door. In the past I have silently questioned some of Jay’s wardrobe parings for the children. And recently WC has begun to choose his own clothes and unless weather inappropriate I pretty much overlook the fact he doesn’t match. But this morning Jay brings CJ into the living room wearing a shirt that swallows him whole. Then the following exchange occurred:
“What is he wearing?”
“Well, it’s a 4T.”
“It’s, WC’s.”
“But it was in his drawer.”
How can you argue with someone who puts a shirt on a child, sees that his hands don’t come out of the sleeves and still doesn’t change the shirt and thinks because it was in his drawer is a valid reason? To top it off the shirt has paint stains that won’t come out on it and I’m fairly certain that it was the pile to get rid of. How it wandered into CJ’s drawer…I have two guesses. And the icing on the cake of the baby in the oversized shirt is- that the pants don’t match and when he sits down come to about the middle of his shins.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Never Dull

It's been a while since my last post. I'm back in blog land now. I've been concentrating all my efforts on my novel. Hopefully people will be willing to read again.

CJ woke up yesterday morning w/ a red rash & whelps on his stomach, thighs & arm pits. And sporadic whelps on his shins. He’d up & down 4 or so times the night before night crying. Guess that was why. When I'd given him a bath the night before he was fine. After the discovery he was covered with the rash we sat on the couch a while then he got down started playing- acted like nothing was wrong. He wasn’t running a fever. I talked to the nurse at his dr’s office & they still wanted to see him. They can't identify a whelpy rash over the phone. And he'd been on amoxicillin the week prior for ear infection and pneumonia. So off we went. From his behavior in the exam room you wouldnt have thought anything was wrong with him. He climbed all over the furture like he had a tail hanging off his behind. Fell off a chair once- didnt deter him. Luckily they were very slow & we got right in. It’s hives. I spent a co-pay on hives. We don’t know what caused them. We may never know. She didn’t want to say it was the amoxicillin because he’s been off it since Fri. but if it happens after the next time he has it then we know (nice). My mom also gave him a nutty buddy the day before and he’d never had one before. One of those peanut butter wafer cookies from Little Debbie. It may be a peanut allergy or she said those pre-packaged manufactured items have a million ingredients in them we can’t pronounce- it could have been any one of them. She recommended not giving him a nutty buddy again (fine by me I didn’t like she gave it to him to begin w.) also if we want to give him peanut butter give him just a tiny bit on his tongue and wait a day. If he is going to react to it that would be all it would take but don’t overload his system w/ a sandwich until we verify whether or not peanut butters the culprit. Great- my son the guinea pig. She said if they start to bother him we can give him Benedryl. But it wont cure him any faster. The creepy thing is she said that the hives will go down and reappear on another part of the body! But atleast for the copay she did check his ears & lungs and pronounced all good there.

And then she told me something that probably wont get me in the motherhood hall of fame anytime soon. I'd forgotten his 18 month checkup!

Today the hives looked much better. But it looks like he will need medication for seasonal allergies. Mom said he ran around all day yesterday rubbing his eyes and yelling, "eyes itch."