Birthday baby.

When I was pregnant with my second child, we learned his due date was February 19th. The day after my birthday.

SO many people smiled hugely when they heard that news. "Wouldn't that be cool if he was born on your birthday?" My thought? Uh, no. I'm thinking that would SUCK for him. I mean...imagine...you're in high school. You're sixteen. And you're sharing a birthday cake with your mother? Blech.

But as most mothers will tell you, once you hit the last few weeks of your pregnancy, most women will do just about anything to get. that. baby. OUT. Once that kid nears the size and weight of an actual watermelon most people are ready to endure any amount of pain just to be able to sit upright again without being short of breath or having a shooting pain stab them in their ass. Or, you know, that could just be me.

So when my 29th birthday rolled around and there was no kid? I was pissy.

February 19th and no baby? PEEVED. And probably just a wee bit crabby.

February 20th? I had a doctor's appointment during which the good doc informed me that he typically lets women go A WEEK OVERDUE before scheduling inductions. I probably would have stabbed the man had I had anything in my pockets with which to cause harm, but as it was, I was wearing nothing but a flimsy paper gown...I couldn't even give him a papercut with that thing.

I remember, vividly, sitting at home that evening, crying. The Hubster and I recorded a "Hey - you'll know when the damn baby makes his appearance" outgoing message on our answering machine. And then I went to take a bath and glare at my oversized belly.

And then? At 9:30 p.m. the contractions started. By 11:45 we were at the hospital, and by 3:25 a.m. we had a baby. And that's exactly how this child has lived his life.

He will do something if and only if it is HIS idea, and only when he's ready to do so.

And then? Dude...he jumps in head-first with absolutely no fear.

There are many days when I think I could learn a little something from Will.

Happy birthday, baby. You make my heart happy in ways I could never describe.

Read Will's other birthday recaps here and here and here and here.

A Christmas gift of Sasquatchean proportions

So - have you all seen this Bigfoot toy in the stores?

My kids love it. Typically, the displays I've seen have a toy open in a big plexiglass box so that kids can push a button and see it in action. It then does flips and swings its arms and talks.

And because I have two boys, I get to stand in the toy isle at Target and watch the demo twice.

Its one of those things I'd really like to buy for my kids - you know, be the cool Mom that gets them those gifts they really want - but it retails for $89 dollars.

You can enter to win one! The folks at Fisher-Price are giving away one Bigfoot toy every week. All you have to do is create a Bigfoot Moods badge on Facebook and enter their sweepstakes.

Just thought I'd pass along the info!

I was compensated for sharing this information with you, but I probably would have anyway cuz my boys really like this silly toy!

Hodge Podge

This week has been another tough one. Like, where did the time GO?

---

Nick was sick the other night. I got up with him four times. Sitting on a tiny stool in the dark in the bathroom, listening to him cry about how much his tummy hurt was miserable. It reminded me of the days when he was a newborn -- except even in his earliest days I don't think he was ever up four times in one night. And back then he didn't cry that he wanted his Daddy, making me feel both inept and miserable. We called Daddy instead, at 1:30 in the morning, but he was on his way to a call and couldn't talk long.

True to little boy form, he was back to his old self half way through the day on Tuesday. I called in to work -- which I almost never do -- Jay has almost always been around during the day for dealing with sick kids. This week, though, he was due to be "helping parent" in Will's 3K class after that overnight shift, meaning that he had to sleep sometime. So instead I stayed home, and let Nick choose which movie we cuddled up to watch while Jay and Will did the 3K thing. We watched the original Star Wars. It was pretty darn near perfect.

---

That's the killer thing about being a working parent. Obviously, you can't be all things to all people. So either you're the parent who gets up with sick kids in the middle of the night or the one who's up early in the morning to head to work. Its nice, sometimes, to get to be the parent on the other side.

---

Another of my cousins is getting married this weekend. I bought myself a new dress (yay BlogHer discount!) and new shoes. I pulled out both pairs of boys' dress shoes and made sure each boy had a pair that fit. I pulled out the 3T pants we bought Will for the weddings in June and made sure they still fit. I was ready to make a short list of stuff I still needed (paint my nails, pick up a new lipstick, pick up new sucky-in-Grandma-panties) when I realized -- Nick didn't have anything to wear at all. He's worn a tuxedo to the past few weddings. That left me with one option -- take both boys to Kohl's (I had $50 in Kohl's cash to spend - holla!) and get him to try some stuff on.

Utter nightmare.

There was exactly one rack of dress shirts and pants for boys in his size. Right next to the display of t-shirts that came with dinosaurs. And a direct view away from a display of baby toys. It didn't matter that they were for babies -- just that they were more interesting than looking at dress clothes. And that my children could lie on the floor in front of the display for reasons unknown to me.

It took all the patience I had to wrestle that boy into trying on a few dress shirts. Then I mentally tortured myself over choosing just the right tie, all while he could have cared less if I dressed him in a burlap sack. But the job is done and DANG IT we're all going to look nice.

---

Nick came home with a few things in his backpack yesterday that struck me with a wave of...sadness, I guess is the right word for it. His starting all-day kindergarten wasn't too hard on me. We've had a few rounds of practice. When he was three he did the same two-day a week, two-hour a day preschool program that Will is doing now. When he was four, he started out the school year in a 4K class, three hours a day, Monday through Friday. When we moved, there was no 4K program in our new school district, and it was clear over time that he was missing it and was ready to go back. Now he's in an all-day kindergarten, five days a week, and while he often comes home so ugly, attitude-wise that I sometimes threaten to have gypsies come pick him up and take him away, its clearly the right place for him. He's unbelievably smart and comes home with new skills every day, telling us stories about the kids who got into trouble.

But yesterday I opened his backpack and saw two things --
1) His very first school pictures. Ohmygod. He's like, a real KID now. You know? I mean, that's dumb. But he's not a baby. Not a toddler. Not a preschooler. There is no other child category for him but KID. We are now officially in the realm of class birthday parties and after school sports and buying clothes without a "T" in the size...{sniff}...I don't know if I like it. I mean, I love it -- I love that he's growing up like he should be and we seem to be doing things right -- but I hate it. You know?

2) His very first order of Scholastic books. I used to LOVE getting those flyers from the teacher. I would take a pen and circle all of the books that I wanted. Then my Mom would laugh and select one or two. It was always so exciting to get those books that we'd ordered. I loved to read when I was little and I always talked my Mom into ordering a few. While I was looking through the new books at the kitchen table last night, Nick began to read one over my shoulder. He got angry when I tried to help him with a tough word. *Sigh.* Its just so...he just wants to be so independent, which I should have expected. He gets more like me every day.

---

Will is probably one of the best children on the planet with regard to sleep. If toddler sleeping were an Olympic sport, he'd be Shaun White. (He's even got the reddish hair.) He's one of those rare kids that will tell you when he's tired. If you suggest a nap, he most often will go, "OK!" and run to his room, asking for you to tuck him in. He even prefers his bed over sneaking into Mom and Dad's, and when I try and get him to come cuddle with me on Saturday mornings, he'll shout from the warmth of his covers that no, I should come to him instead.

On the odd nights when he cries or shouts that "ITS NOT TIME FOR SLEEPING YET!" he'll eventually be in his bed, under the covers, ready to ask God to bless his Rollie Fingers bobble-head. ("And God bless the dog, the cat, the Brewers and the Packers and all the other bobble-heads, too.") And then? He just goes right to sleep.

And then and then? He'll sleep until 9:00 in the morning if you let him.

---

I have so many things to write -- things I've promised other people, things I want to write for other people, and things I want to write about here. But there just isn't TIME. I just wish I could erase the guilt that comes along with those broken promises...or just learn not to make them in the first place. Life's just too busy and I don't want to miss out on things.

---

I've had the hiccups now for about an hour. All my typical remedies have failed. DANG IT.

---

I think that's about all the random things that are floating around in my head right now. Why is so little of it about me?

The cuteness.

Will's first day of preschool, 9/7/10.

OK, I had scheduled this photo to post last night as a Wordless Wednesday, but I just realized it CAN'T be totally wordless. (And I apologize to all my Facebook friends who were forced to see the first day cuteness last night.) Cuz here's what happened:

Last night, 8 p.m. I'm sitting in the kitchen on the 'puter, boys are playing quietly in their PJs and I've just given them the "We're brushing teeth in five minutes!" warning. Will walks in, cute in his mis-matched PJs.

"Mom, I need to have a shower." Which is weird, cuz the kid hates showers.

"Bud, you don't need a shower today." We have an "every other day" rule for the kids, which is usually stretched into the "every third day" rule unless they're dirty or smell funny. They're still little - it's totally OK.

"Yes I do!" The look of determination on his face was so adorable I almost laughed out loud.

"No, buddy, you don't."

"YES I DO, YOU BUTT!"

Oh my God in heaven my adorable little three-year-old child has just called me a BUTT. Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

"Excuse me?" I raised my eyebrows and glared at him. "We do not call anyone a butt."

The look on my face alone was enough to make him burst into tears. He stood there, in the kitchen, with his hands over his eyes, bawling.

"C'mere, buddy," I said, trying to pull him to me. While I wanted him to know that it is unacceptable to call his mother a butt, he's still only three and a hug to quiet tears when he clearly knows he was wrong is almost required.

"No!" he shouted. "I sorry. I so so sorry."

I picked him up and put him on my lap. He continued to refuse to look at me. "We don't say things like that. That's sassy."

A few minutes later, after rubbing his back and continually drying his tears, he finally looked up at me.

"Momma, don't tell Daddy, 'kay?"

"OK."

First day of school, Mommy Always Wins style.

I *AM* smiling. And no - you cannot fix my hair.

I don't WANT to smile nice. This IS my smile.

Mom. I'm DONE with pictures.

FINE. There. Are you happy?

C'MON...

whhhaaaaaa...

GARLBARALBARARABAL...

In reality, he had a great first day of kindergarten.

"So what did you do today?"

"Uh...I dunno. Lots of stuff."

"Did you make any new friends?"

"Uh huh. Like SIX friends. But I don't know what they're called."

Uh, OK kid. OK.

The post where I laugh at my kids and make you think I'm a big fat jerk.

I know its nearly required that you do a post-BlogHer post, but something happened yesterday that was so goddanged funny that I just had to share it. And in my defense, it wasn't really funny at the time, but when I retold it to The Hubster and I knew my kids were tucked safely in their little beds, heads sweating and drool pooling on their pillows? I laughed until I cried.

So welcome new BlogHer friends. I only hope you don't think I'm too much of an arse.

---

Since getting home from my trip, my kids have been whiny to the Nth degree. Time without the structure only a Mommy can provide + time with Grandma + no naps while at the sitter's will do that to a kid. That and its super hot and humid here and we've recently gotten lots of rain, allowing the mosquitos to grow to prehistoric sizes to the point that they're all big and cocky and grunting "Which way to the gym?"

On the evenings when my hubby works, I'm not gonna lie, I don't usually cook. By the time I would get home with the kids it would be nearly 6:30 which roughly translated means the time my children would melt down further from lack of sustenance. So yesterday I opted for the McDonald's drive through.

The McDonald's near the sitter's house has a PlayLand, meaning I warded off threats of impending tantrums for not allowing them to play in said PlayLand with promises that we could eat outside on the deck at home. Twenty minutes later the kids were at their Little Tykes picnic table, happily munching on apples and fries. I finally got to my lukewarm Filet O'Fish once they were settled.

Will has allergies. He gets them from, well, both of us, as The Hubster and I are both allergic to just about everything that grows outside. This means that the pollen-laden muggy air made him miserable about three minutes into our meal. He sneezed and sneezed, swatting mosquitos from his already welted arms. When I watched a big wad of snot fly out of his nose and land on his upper lip? And then his little pudgy three-year-old fist rub that snot around his face? And into his eye? It was time to take the lad indoors, despite however much he might protest.

So I scooped the kid up and took him and his food indoors. I washed his face with a cool washcloth and got him settled at the kitchen table. Once he was happy, I left him be to go retreive my sandwich only to go back outdoors and realize that the damned dog has eaten my freakin' fish sandwich. Seriously?

Finally, we wrapped up dinner and the kids wanted to jump on the trampoline. It was wet from the recent rains, but at that point I just didn't care. But when the jumping turned into soggy wrestling and then tears? It was time to call it a freakin' day.

I scooped Will up and gave him a piggy back ride to the house and convinced both boys that a bath was the most spectacular idea I'd ever had. I let the water run lukewarm to cool them down, and after scrubbing them from head to toe, I gave them every toy they asked for and enjoyed the fact that they were behaving and playing nicely.

At one point, Nick called out to me, "MOM! Can I have that green thing? You know...for breathing in the bathtub?" By that he meant the snorkel that used to have matching green goggles until we left them at the pool at the Y. Like I said, they were being good and getting clean and allowing Mommy a few minutes to do something other than work or take care of kids. Of course he could have it.

You see, he figured out that if you put the part that normally goes in your mouth under water you could blow into the top of the tube and it would sound like you were farting in the water.

They're smart, my kids.

At one point, I was sitting in the kitchen, tweeting away and looking through photos, listening to them laugh about fart noises, when suddenly I heard choking and realized my brilliant child has sucked water UP the snorkle.

I almost wiped out on the hard wood floors while running to the bathroom to save him.

I recovered from my near fall and saw my super skinny five year old, standing naked and dripping wet in the tub, coughing and gagging. His face was reddish purple, but he was breathing. Then his gags turned into retches and I helped him over the edge of the tub to the toilet just in case he threw up.

I was patting his still-wet back, holding him up so that he didn't slip on the tiles. I was simply stunned that my child had just surely had a near-death experience when he straightened up and said, "Whoa."

And climbed right back into the bath tub.

Uh, ok. You gotta get back on the horse, right? I took the snorkel away for good measure. I mean, you'd think he'd learn from that, but at that point in my day I didn't want to take any chances.

I had walked away when I heard Will start to whine and cry. "Iss my turn for da snerkel, Momma!" he shouted. "MY TURN!"

I argued with my boy for a few minutes before giving in to his pleas. My children should work at Gitmo. But I figured - how likely is it that the previous scene will repeat itself?

I pulled the plug and let them shout over the sounds of the water going down the drain.

Sometimes Mommy DOES win!

Weekends like this past one are hard. My hubby's job as a cop isn't a nine to five...it's not even a Monday-Friday. He works swing shifts and third shifts and mandatory overtime and has to appear for court dates. And sometimes its just the overwhelming amount of paperwork required that takes him away from us.

Every week he has what we call his "short day". He'll work an overnight shift, go home to sleep for a few hours and be back on the roads by mid-afternoon.

The boys and I also call it "Daddy's Poopy Day".

I try and do something fun with the boys on Daddy's Poopy Day. If they've spent an entire day at the sitter's (which is unusual for them - mostly they're there for just a few hours), we'll go to McDonald's for dinner, or to a movie.

When Daddy's Poopy Day falls on a Saturday though? Its extra tough. Its more than 24 hours in a row of making meals and snacks and entertaining children and breaking up fights and answering the 356,000 questions they seem to be able to come up with. I know lots of people do it - single parents, other folks who's spouses work long long hours - I'm just saying I know it sucks.

And if you just happen to have to run errands without a spouse around? Lord save you. There is no "Hey hon, could you just watch the kids for an hour so I can sort through my coupons and run to the store? And then help me haul all of our groceries up the stairs and put them all away?" There's no time to even consider the coupons, and you're left alone to buckle two kids into the car who make it crystal clear that they "Don't wanna go to the grocery store!" followed by an hour of "Here hon, don't hit your brother - help me pick out what flavor of yogurt we should get!" and "We don't hang on the edge of the cart - GET DOWN!" and "STOP TOUCHING THAT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT'S GLASS WHY MUST YOU TOUCH EVERYTHING?!?"

Good times.

I try to make my kids think that whatever it is that I have to do is just the best thing in the whole wide world. (I'm thinking that may by why they are so enamored with Piggly Wiggly.) I can bribe them with the promise of bananas or chocolate milk, and I've slyly built their collection of "books children must certainly own" by promising new ones to well-behaved children.

So this past Saturday, I made the mall down in Brookfield sound like heaven on earth.

Kids aren't putting on their shoes fast enough? "Someone's not going to get a milk at the coffee place!" The shoes that were, a moment before, IMPOSSIBLE to put on somehow make it on the right feet in 2.2.

So off we went. I wanted to buy a new shirt or two for this little ol' trip I'm going on this next week. I have to say I was rather pleased. They only hid under the racks of women's clothing four times. ("Oooh - this fort is soft!") I only had to hiss "Stop touching your brother!" six times. I grabbed a few shirts and bought them to try on later.

While having our treat at the coffee place, I looked up to see a man with a Barnes & Noble bag. I had totally forgotten they had one at that mall and - SCORE! - I still had a $50 gift card for B&N in my purse!

"Boys! Would you guys like to go pick out a book?"

Nick nearly choked on his milk. "CAN WE?!?"

"Sure! Let's finish our snacks and as long as you're good in the store when we get there you can each pick a book."

Once inside Barnes & Noble, we headed for the kids section and they found a rack of those little paperback Step Into Reading books. Will picked a Toy Story book and Nick picked something with the Super Friends in it. Rock on.

Now for the tricky part. Getting them NOT to beat each other with the new books we haven't yet purchased while Mommy gets her turn to browse the shelves. I navigated them toward the discount tables (LOVE the discount tables at book stores!) and specifically told them to stand between two tables out of the way of foot traffic. I even told them they could sit on the floor and read their new books if they wanted to, so long as they stayed out of the way of other people and kept their hands to themselves.

So I start browsing. I hear Nick say, "Here Will, do you want me to read it to you?"

Followed by an "Uh huh!"

Happy that they're busy and not taking the books off the shelves because they "need to be cleaned up - they look junky", I had already found a few books that looked promising.

Then I hear the tell-tale staccato voice of a new reader, slowly telling his brother,

"Buzz and Woody. Good buddies."

I peeked around the corner toward where they were sitting. Nick was holding up the book so his brother could see the pictures. He was definitely reading to his brother. I watched, afraid to interrupt yet insanely proud of my kids as Nick read almost the entire book to his little brother.

Its official. I have a new reader! (And two of the best kids on the entire planet!)

Taking a break from pool time to read the book again

Sounding out a tough word

And you'd better believe little brother won't let himself fall too far behind!

Reading

 
Turning pages

Our tree.

There's a park near us with a great old tree we've visited in June for three consecutive years. Last year, the boys found the bugs under the tree to be of more interest than posing for an actual picture. The year before, Will was so little that he was barely walking. {*sniff*sniff*}


Now, its simply known as "our tree". (I'm sure no one else in the history of time has ever taken their picture in front of that tree. Ha...)

Its become our new tradition. Each June, we head to Greenfield Park and pose the boys in front of (and this year, in) the tree.

Summer came early to 'sconsin.

Wisconsin has weird weather. I know most of you who live in more southern states think its just plain cold here, but really, it would be better to just characterize it as 'weird'.

Temps can regularly fluctuate by 20-30 degrees overnight. We've had snow in every month but June, July and August. (We're finally home free - WOO HOO!)

We've had winters with hardly any snow...until March. Other years there have been blizzards in time for Trick or Treating.

It can hit 90°F in the summer with what feels like 9,000% humidity. Just months later, temps can drop to -20°F.

I once camped over Memorial Day weekend, in a tent, in 50° rain. But Mother Nature? She was nice to us this year.

Temps in the eighties. Skies with only wispy little clouds. And sun. Beautiful, beautiful sun.

And we enjoyed every single minute of it!

Pics were taken with my Nikon D60. The series of shots of Nick on the slip-n-slide were each taken a second apart!

This post linked to Beth's You Capture. This week's theme: Best Shot. As in singular. I totally cheated. But if I had to pick just one, it'd be that last one!

Small moments

Life can get overwhelming if you over-think it. The trick, I think, is to take each moment as it comes and appreciate it for what it is.

Kids are tough. If you're outnumbered, its easy to feel mired down in their incessant questions about everyday things. They never slow down, never stop wondering, never stop talking at a volume that's just a wee bit too loud.

But if you can sigh and take a deep breath and shake off the frustration you feel at having to decide just what you're doing to make for dinner AGAIN, they'll remind you of life's simple pleasures.

Like rolling down the windows on a nice day and letting the wind rush through your fingers.

A boy and his dog

Tomorrow is Nick's fifth birthday.

He's FIVE.

I don't know where the time went, but suddenly, in the past few weeks it seems, he's gone from preschooler to BOY.

He says things to me like, "Mom, that's a good sandwich right there!" and "Mom, I love you more than Daddy does. I loved you my WHOLE LIFE!" and, after coming home from a hair appointment, "Looks good, woman!"

He reminds his little brother of the rules. "Will, if you don't eat your dinner you have to go to BED! You don't want to go to bed, do you?!?" (And Will listens to him! I'd complain, but, well, I don't have to argue with the little one as much so whatever.)

He's amazingly smart. Because his birthday is on a holiday, we had a party for him this past Saturday. Jay and I got him a Leapster 2 and my Mom bought him a few games. He's already mastered them. And they teach math skills. And reading. (And building rollercoasters.) He's told me that tomorrow he wants my help to write up a letter to Santa. He's been scanning last Sunday's paper for the games he wants to ask Santa for.

And probably one of the greatest new changes? He loves his dog.

She was the family dog before we even had kids, and for the past year or more he's been feeding her when we ask him to. But recently he takes the initiative...tells us when she needs a treat...calls her to come follow him when he goes to play outside or in his room. And at night? She sleeps at the foot of his bed.

It just melts my heart.

Happy birthday, dear boy.

Maybe they're trying to tell me something.

I will never claim to be a domestic goddess. My hubby will have to win the lottery or I'll have to strike it rich by selling some big screen play or novel before I'll ever be a stay-at-home Mom and even possibly have enough time to keep my house even halfway decent. And when that day finally does come, I'll have enough money to pay someone to come clean my house for me.

But if you follow me on Twitter, you may have noticed a new trend at our house.

I thought it was totally cute. I was excited that the days of Super Why and Dora may be numbered. Until:

No, no...that's OK...I'll get over it. Yeah, so maybe I need to clean under the couch. Armed with his Daddy's work flashlight, Nick is probably the only person ever to go looking under there just for giggles.

Watching Dirty Jobs makes Nick happy, and you know what? It keeps him quiet and I like the show too. Double win!

Thanks, Mike Rowe, for kicking Patrick and Squidward to the curb. (Hmmm...I think there's a 'Dirty Jobs' show idea in there somewhere...)

The only thing that would have made that match-up better was if they'd made a Mike Rowe muppet. (No offense, Mike. I just got a thing for muppets. Wonder how they make those things...another 'Dirty Jobs' show idea, perhaps? Don't laugh - for all you know they could make muppets in Malaysian sweat shops and make those strings that control their skinny little arms out of whale baleen.)

All was just fine and dandy with our new TV love affair until this weekend. It hit a whole new level.

Just after we happened upon the D.J. marathon on Saturday afternoon, somewhere between the episode where Mike visits a cedar shingle factory (dangerous, but not exactly dirty if you ask me) and the one where he makes super really good bird food, I noticed my two little boys missing from the living room.

Oh, what we parents won't sacrifice for a little peace.

Then I had someone "tweet back" and ask me how one "plays Dirty Jobs."

Darn it if I didn't have to get up and check on them to see for myself.

They hauled nearly every tote and toy that normally resides under their bunk beds OUT, sort of making a little tunnel. Nick dropped down onto his belly and instructed his little brother to do the same.

Imagine a four year old leading a two year old on a great under-bed safari.

I don't know that I ever laughed as hard as I did when Nick would yell something like, "WATCH OUT FOR THAT THING!"

I have no idea what they were actually looking for, but they came out with two broken crayons, seven wayward socks, three Happy Meal toys and various parts and pieces for board games. (Why yes, you CAN hire me to write your next Christmas song!)

In the end, I'd have to say I highly encourage you to let your small children watch Dirty Jobs. You never know...you could just have your younguns cleaning the toilets before fall.

Like pee through Wall-E underpants, these are the days of our lives

See Bald Baby hiding under the pillow?

We found Will sleeping like this on the couch the other morning. He's learned to undress himself and pretty much does it all the time if we're not looking. (What? Its 30° outside? BAH - who cares?!?) Seems like he was half-way through when he fell back asleep.

I didn't write much about Will's birthday, other than to pay tribute with all my Weekly Winner photos. Thankfully, he's already outgrown most of his terrible two-isms and stays in his bed at night. Oh, and he'll keep his winter hat on now, thanks to his little day care girlfriend. (Seriously, tell him Katie does something and he's all over it.)

He's less crabby and more downright a-freakin'-dorable (his smiles tell me he knows what he's getting away with), though he does still have his food issues. All I'll say is don't force him to eat something or his entire dinner may just end up in your lap. 'Nough said.

He's an old soul. I had a friend say to me a few weeks ago, "You know, Nick is funny and cute -- but his mannerisms are those of a little boy. Will, on the other hand...he's like a cute little old man."

He is. Its totally funny, but he'll walk into a room swinging his arms back and forth, as if to say, "So...what're we going to do today?" I almost expect him to do that snap-snap-clap thing men do. I could just picture him in golf pants and cleats, snap-snap-clapping. And the looks on his face sometimes - MAN. Its really hard to be mad at the kid!

We've been working on potty training with him for awhile, but it works best if you can make him think it's his idea to go. He kept his brand new big boy underpants dry nearly all day on Sunday. When he saw his Disney skivvies were wet, he let out the biggest sigh and threw his hands up with a look on his face that said, "GAH. I just can't catch a break!"

He talks more and more every day and is at the point where he'll surprise you with what he knows. He'll request movies by name ("Horton, Momma!") and just when you think he's not paying attention, he'll repeat those things you wish you hadn't said.

He knows the characters of Sesame Street by heart, and I won't hold it against him that he doesn't know the difference between Ernie and Bert. (I mean, they're practically the same anyway.) His obsession with basketball is very well known, and more often than not, he's the instigator behind the UFC take downs that occur in my house on a minute-to-minute basis.

But best of all? When I ask if he's my big boy or my baby, he knows just what I want to hear. He'll throw his chubby little arms around my neck and hug me as big as a two-year-old can when he mumbles, "Momma baby."

Happy birthday, Will. You'll always be my baby!

Luck is believing you're lucky...

Temps in the Milwaukee area hit nearly 60°F on Tuesday.

You'd better believe that when we finally get a reprieve from our long cold winter we milk it for all its worth.

After work, I decided I'd take the boys to the park down the street.

I donned the kids in sweatshirts and rain boots and decided Will was too big to need a stroller for a two block trip.

I let them each take one toy - they each decided on a small basketball. Of course there were several negotiations as to which ball belonged to whom.

Over and over and over again.

We got to the park where I quickly discovered that in Wisconsin, 60°F in February doesn't feel like 60°F in May. There's quite a bit of "cold" thrown off by those piles of melting snow.

We had only been playing for a few minutes when I saw Will's rosy red cheeks and felt his ice cold hands. I cursed myself for being a Bad Mommy and decided we should head back home.

But getting two boys and their toys rounded up when they're at the park for the first time in months is like getting snails to march in a parade. You might as well not even try.

After ten minutes of balls flying THIS way and boys meandering THAT, I scooped up the little one, deciding that mud on my jeans from his boots was far easier to handle than being in the park after dark as the temperature dove back down to winter norms. The sun was setting.

We finally got out of the park and were on our way down the street. Nick was happily jumping in every puddle he saw, and Will was twisting around in my arms to watch him. Now that we were on our way and the sidewalk provided a straight path, I tried several times to put him down.

"Noooo - UP Mama!"

I was trying to shift him in my arms to distribute his weight better when the Earth may have just as well stopped turning.

While running and jumping, Nick fell -- HARD.

There was no blood, just slightly scraped and dirty hands, but it didn't matter. Huge tears...much screaming and crying..."Mama, I can't walk!!!"

"Oh, hon, you're OK," I said, squatting down and balancing him on my knee. I kissed his muddy palms and transferred a kiss to his knees with my own. "Let's go home and get an ice pack, 'kay?"

"NOOOOO....I SAID I CAN'T WAAAAAAALK!!!"

Oh Lord in Heaven. We stood on that sidewalk for several minutes, me trying to convince him we could practically see our house and him, proving he was un-ambulatory by slinking down to sit and then lay on the dirty wet sidewalk.

I sighed. "FINE. Stand up."

I gathered up Will and his basketball, which he was trying to retrieve from under a bush. Nick stood (MIRACLE!) and I handed him his ball, which had rolled into the street and come to a rest in a puddle, next to a cigarette butt and an empty plastic soda bottle.

"You guys hold onto your basketballs, OK?" I pulled the strap of my camera case over my head so it sat across my body diagonally. Taking a deep breath, I squatted and thanked my stars for palates. "If you let go of them, I'm leavin' 'em behind."

With a grunt, I picked them both up, straining under the extra 70 lbs. I mentally kicked myself for being so stupid as to think we could go anywhere without a stroller.

Then, while in my arms, gripping their muddy basketballs, my boys hugged each other.

I just had to laugh. There we were, trudging down a dreary sidewalk, the sun setting, wind whipping up. My hair was flying around my face and the mud from their boots was running down the front of my jeans.

It was utterly ridiculous.

But at the same time, utterly delicious.

My arms were full of sweet little boys - complete with mud and bruises and scrapes and basketballs - and we were all hugging each other.

GIVEAWAY! Get outta the house!

In case you didn't hear me the first time, its really cold here right now.

My natives? They're long past restless.

And Phil? That bastage didn't see his damned shadow. What gives, Phil?!? Have you ever seen that thing?!?

I know there are parts of the country that have recently been hit with ice storms and others with mass amounts of snow, and there were folks in both areas who lost power because of the weather. We're lucky.

BUT -- that being said, its only hit freezing (32F) once here in the past month. ONCE.

There hasn't been much snow, and definitely no ice storms to speak of here in Brew City, but oh mah gah...its damn cold!

I've long past run out of indoor activities to keep my kids busy. LONG PAST.

The fighting over toys has grown to epic proportions. EPIC.

My rule? If you can't share? I take it away!!!

Usually I only have to threaten or take something away once and that works to get my point across.

These days? Notsomuch.

Case in point: I was picking up the house after the boys were in bed tonight and look what I found on top of the fridge.

On top of the china cabinet?

The lil' one almost got this upside his head!

On top of the piano?

Because we the OTHER 11,000 cars just aren't as good.

And finally, behind the couch:

Tomorrow? Come hell or high water (or ten below temps) I'm getting them out of the house! That usually works to change their moods!

In the spirit of cold-weather activities, I'm giving away a $20 Fandango gift card!

Leave a comment below for one entry.

You get a second entry if you subscribe to my feed and send me an email with the secret code (included at the bottom of the post in your reader) in the subject line. (You need not say anything else in the email - it won't otherwise be read. If you entered Monday's giveaway or Tuesday's giveaway with the secret code, that entry is counted here, too.)

Want a third entry? Follow me on Twitter. Then DM me with a "Hi! I'm entering your giveaway for ___." (Make sure you tell me which giveaway.)

All contests will be open through Friday, February 6th at noon central time. I'll then pick a winner for all three using random.org.

Whine-ditty-whine-whine-whine

In the past 24 hours, the high temperature here in the Milwaukee area was -1F.

And that was for probably 3 minutes just after midnight yesterday. Its so cold my spaz of a dog doesn't even want to go outside to pee. (Can't say I blame her. I'd be afraid my little cootchie coo would freeze off.)

My hubby's come down with a stomach bug.

I feel for him...I really do. But I didn't exactly sleep the best last night with him getting up eleventy-two thousand times the way he did. (Though I'm thankful he got up to do what he had to do. I'd be mighty pissed if he'd have stayed in bed to do that.)

I tried to work from home this morning. No dice.

Around 10 am, hubs finally admitted he was really sick. This was after I juggled my laptop for three hours, dressed the boys, cleaned up breakfast and generally tried to keep them entertained.

I kept hearing Adam Sandler in my head yelling, "That would have been useful to me YESTERDAY!!!"

My children don't seem to know how to occupy themselves.

I mean, GOSH, Will's like almost TWO and Nick is FOUR. You'd think between the two of them they'd freakin' figure it out already. I mean, GEEZ, how hard is it to pull that box of puzzles from underneath the bed, dump all the pieces on the floor and put the puzzle back together?!? FREAKING IMPOSSIBLE, aparently, because I did nothing but drag out one toy after the other, only to stop them from fighting over it, then pick up all the pieces and put them away 20 minutes later.

My brain is fried. Or mush. I can no longer decide which.

I do know that we watched Wall-E and three hours of PBS television. We played with Matchbox cars, the Aquadoodle, puzzles, blocks, legos and Clip-O (cuz you know, they're all COMPLETELY differen things). We played Candyland, Memory and Wii. They took naps - I did laundry and ran to the grocery store to get hubby Pepto, Sprite and saltines. We read books, then some more books, and then there were tears when I suggested they put the books away. ("But we're READING these, Mommy!") We played with different cars, the Playskool ball popper thing and Colorforms.

There was more, I'm sure of it, but I think my brain has turned to cheez whiz.

And the real kicker?

It'll hit a high of SIX DEGREES TOMORROW.

Be nice to me when we meet in the loonie bin, 'kay?

I got nothin.

I have zero coherant blog post-type thoughts in my brain right now and zero motivation to pull something brilliant out of the arse that is my life.

I did a number of blog-worthy things today. I updated my 365 photo blog (I'd been taking photos and uploading them to flickr but not actually posting them to the 365 blog) and I created a new Ning group for Wisconsin bloggers (Cheeseheads - come join us!)

What's left to do? Why, interview a four year old, of course. (I can hear my RSS readers unsubscribing...{chirp...chirp}

What do you think your mommy does at work every day?
I don't know...she has a white office and she works in it all day long...she has a computer.

How about daddy?
He arrests people and fights the bad guys.

What do you think about having a little brother?
He's a good brother except when he doesn't share.

Do you like preshool?
yes

What's your favorite thing about school?
reading books

Who's the new president?
Rock Obama

What do you think - will he do a good job?
yes

Why?
Cuz he works all day long.

What's the most important thing in life?
a gold medal

If you could have one thing you don't already have, what would it be?
a space ship

If we could go somewhere on a trip, where should we go?
Minnesota

What's your favorite toy?
My space ship

What's the funniest thing you can think of?
He makes a funny face, tilts his head sideways and holds it there.

How many kids do you think we should have in our family?
He counts one to ten, then jumps to 100 and stops. I don't think so, buddy.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
A baseball player

What's the one thing every person needs to be happy?
me

What do you want to say to all of mommy's readers?
I love you!

So...there you have it. At least the picture's cute, right? Heh...

Post-holiday sugar coma

Second to Christmas, I am now enjoying my second favorite time of year. The post-Christmas, I ate too much, feelin' the love of all my family and friends, I don't have to work vacation.

OK, it probably ties the summer at the lake vacation, but with indigestion instead of sunburn.

Its nice, while its freezing or snowing outside, or, like this year, doing both, to be able to sit in your warm house with your over-sugared children and just...be.

Because we had some pre-holiday holiday get-togethers and because we're heading out of town tomorrow to do a holiday thing with Hubby's Dad and family, we stayed in our PJs yesterday while Hub's Mom came over for brunch and then decided it was proper attire for the rest of the day. We catched Wall-E (gift from Santa!) and How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the movie version) and ate left-overs and cookies and played with new toys.

Today is more of the same - after they get up from their naps we'll probably head out to run errands, but there's no stress. No rushing. No urgency. I love it...

Enough uber holiday cuteness to make ANY Grinch's heart grow three sizes

I admit it...one of the reasons I started this Christmas-ey series was to keep myself in check. The stress of the season gets to me every year, and I'd be lying like a dog if I said I was cool as a cucumber so far this season.

This weekend, however, I had some time to cross some things off the old holiday to do list that has steadied my nerves a bit. (Oh, and in case you were wondering, St. Nick brought the boys light up bobbers and other fishing tackle, new mittens and their very first taste of Whoppers.)

And if the fact that I got things accomplished isn't enough to settle your pre-holiday nerves (I took the Christmas card photo, ordered the cards, went to Mass, decorated the tree and the rest of the house), let this over-abundance of cuteliness overflow your proverbial cup:

Our 2008 Christmas card photo

I always let my boys help with decorating the tree - I have some cheap (unbreakable) ornaments I got from LTD that adorn our lower branches. If you looked at my tree, you'd see about 12 all hanging from the same branch, but it doesn't matter. They got to help and they loved it. See?

Why am I doing this?

Past "Un-Grinching posts":
Day 1: The Christmas Special
Day 2: Baking Cranberry Cream Cheese Bread
Day 3: Making paper snowflakes
Day 4: Giving to those who need it most
Day 5: Hanging the stockings for Ol' St. Nick