We've moved

Since this blog was active, we moved overseas and back again. Now you can read about the boogers' latest adventures at www.boogersabroad.com.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Just another night in Boogerland

So tonight was a typical night in Boogerland.

The boys wanted to "help" clean up, so I let them squirt the Windex and wipe it up with paper towels. A recent favorite activity. Only Mo decided it would be fun to rub his head across the windows, using his hair to mop up the Windex. Who needs paper towel anyway? Curley had to get in on the action, too, of course.

So I hauled them off to the bathtub to de-Windex.

Mo ran ahead of me, stripping along the way, and proceeded to rip all the sheets and blankets off my bed and the guest bed. He prefers to jump (naked) on mattresses that are bare, too, I guess.

Bath time was a four-towel event, as they tried to out-splash each other.

Afterwards, Mo refused to get dressed. Refused to dry off. Refused to re-make the beds. So when Daddy got home, Mo was sitting (wrapped in a towel) in time-out.

"I'm disappointed that you're not behaving for Mom tonight," Dad says.

"How do you know I'm not behaving?" Mo asks.

"Well, I heard you when I was walking up the steps," Dad explains.

Mo gave him a questioning glance.

"Kiddo, I have ears you know," Dad says.

"So? I have ears. Everybody has ears," says Mo.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

I'll take the choking hazard, please

Mo had a great line today. We took the kids to the mall. Seems like every couple feet they have kiosks of candy for a quarter.

So naturally, Mo was begging constantly.

I don't mind if he has a handful of candy, but I knew Curley would be jealous. So I kept trying to steer him toward something he could share with his brother. Like Rasinets or M&Ms. But he kept going for a giant jawbreaker. Or super-big gumball.

Finally, he got frustrated and yelled, "CAN I JUST GET THE CHOKING HAZARD KIND! THE KIND DADDY LET'S ME HAVE?!"

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Tired of sleepytime woos

We're all a little bleary eyed over here in Boogerland.

Last week, Curley began throwing all-out fits at bedtime. Put him in his crib: he'd cry. Hold him: he'd cry. Rock him: he'd cry. Try to give him something to drink: he'd cry. Sing to him: he'd cry.

I've already been planning to transition him to the bottom bunk (with guardrail) as soon as he attempts to climb out of the crib. Since he's being such a fussbucket at bedtime right now, I decided to move up the timeline. He's already crying his head off at bedtime, let's just go with it.

And he has, in fact, slept in the big boy bed for the past five nights. But it ain't been easy.

An article in Parade magazine this week said that on average it takes about 20 minutes for a kid to fall a sleep. But the more inactive time they've had in the day will add minutes on to their fall-asleep time. And the amount of active time subtracts minutes from how long it takes them to fall asleep.

Last night, it took more than two hours before they both fell asleep. Since I'm off work today, I made it my mission to tire out those kids, so we wouldn't have a repeat episode tonight.

We played at the Y. Then on to swim lessons. Then storytime at the library. McDonald's playland. Later we headed to the grocery store. And then had some good runaround time at a park.

And after all that, I still hear some rustling upstairs. But guess who's probably the most tuckered out?

Yes, that would be me.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Mo's one-liners

Here are a few laughs, courtesy of Mo.

1. Mo: "Mom, my mouth hurts. I think I have another canker storm."

2. Me: "Please stop tossing food onto the floor for your brother. He's not a dog."

Mo: "But he likes eating off the floor the best!"

(I can't argue with that.)

3. Mo: "Hi, my name is Mr. Brown."

(Spontaneously quoting a Dr. Seuss book when asked to give his own name.)

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Squirrel attack!

When I was making dinner tonight, the boys started screaming. I ran over to them. They were staring at the back door.

Here's what they saw.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Kix invasion threatens bamboo floors

Mo wanted a snack. I had to go to the bathroom. He held up a new box of Kix cereal, and I said, "Fine."

When Curley figured out that Mo had attained a snack, I could hear him scamper up to his big bro and start whining. And then crying.

From the bathroom I yelled, "Share with your brother, please."

My mistake. Big time. I should have seen this coming.

So you guessed it, Mo did exactly what I asked. Only instead of handing Curley a few little corn puffs, he gave the 1-year-old the entire box.

When Mo was 1, he also dumped an entire box of cereal out. Yeah, I should have known.

From the bathroom, I could hear the sound of hundreds of Kix bouncing and cascading over my bamboo floors.

By the time I could survey the damage, both boys were flicking the cereal, rolling it into every corner of the kitchen and living room. They had a grand ole time, jumping on it and smashing the balls into zillions of tiny crumbs. And, of course, they feasted - filling their mouths with fistful after chubby fistful of melt-in-your-mouth cereal.

It was one of those moments where you just have to laugh. And snap a few pics.

So then I started cleaning it up. Mo, annoyed that he couldn't eat any more cereal, asked for popcorn and I obliged. And - as these things happen - as soon as I cleaned up the Kix, Mo tripped on the rug and dumped his entire bowl of popcorn.

So, I clean up the popcorn - turning once to shoo Curley away as he tried to sneak some Kix directly from the open garbage can.

Finally, or so I thought, I'd cleaned up the mess. Since I'd filled the garbage bag, I lifted it up from the can. And guess what? There was a hole in the garbage bag. A hole that expanded rapidly until all the Kix and all the popcorn spilled right back onto our lovely bamboo floors.

Ah, just another day in Boogerland.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Peanut butter sandwiches and cup-stealing monsters

We've had a really rough week in Boogerland. I'm not going to get into the details right now, but all of us could use some extra snuggles.

So when the boys were both crying after lights-out tonight, I caved in and announced "Peanut butter sandwich!"

No, it wasn't a nighttime snack. That's what we call it when the three of us - or four if Daddy joins us - snuggle together on our big king-sized bed.

There are two rules to peanut butter sandwiching:

1. Keep your head on the pillow. (I can't sneak away - or breathe very well - with two boys draped over me.)
2. NO making noise. (It used to be "No talking," but they would hum and bang things and give each other raspberries - which got them riled up instead of calmed down.)

Well, somewhere in the shuffle of getting Mo down from his bunk bed and Curley from his crib and making the important decision of who was going to be the bread and who would be the peanut butter - we somehow lost Mo's sippy cup of water.

Quite upset, he searched his room high and low.

After several minutes, he appeared in my doorway, shoulders slumped.

"What's wrong? Couldn't find it?" I asked.

He threw up in his arms in frustration. In a very serious, almost reprimanding tone, he says, "See Mom? I told you there was a monster under my bed!"

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Outsmarted (again) by a preschooler

The trouble with time-outs is that Mo is acutely aware that for some mischief, the time-out is totally worth it. I've mentioned how he uses time-out as a stalling technique at bedtime and clean-up time.

But it gets better.

I got hosed!

Mo was recently "watering my plants" or basically, just playing with the hose in the backyard. He knows that he's not supposed to soak me (or anyone else) and the punishment is immediate time-out.

He turned quickly and sprayed me across the legs.

I told him, "OK, that's it. I'm turning off the water."

He knows that's our deal. But the little wheels were turning.

He flicked the hose at me again.

"Time out!" I declared, striding toward the spigot.

Only the spigot was halfway across the backyard from where I was standing. And Mo's no dummy. He knew he was already in time-out.

So the little stinker chased me with the hose the whole way back, as I dashed to the spigot and shut off the water as fast as I could. That kid completely soaked me! I was drenched.

Our neighbor later told my husband it was one of the funniest things he's ever seen.

Sweet revenge
Today I found a long-forgotten square of Ghirardelli chocolate. Mo begged me for it, and I struck another deal: We'll split it.

I explained that when you split something, it's only fair if one person does the splitting and the other picks their half.

He wanted to split the square, but he broke off one piece much smaller than the other.

He looked up at me. Paused for a second. Then popped both pieces in his mouth!

"Hey!" I yelled. "Spit that out in the sink right now!"

He chewed faster.

"If you don't spit that out, you're going in time-out!"

He turned on his heel, and ran right to the time-out spot, chewing all the while.

And he's right. Time-out is totally worth it if it means soaking your mom with a hose and getting the whole square of chocolate to yourself.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Hide and seek

Mo's terrible at hide and seek. Well, at least the hiding part. He giggles and fidgets and sometimes tells you flat-out where he's hiding: "Mom! I'm in the closet!"

But tonight he got really creative.

I could tell he was behind the recliner. But, like always, I loudly pretended to be looking for him elsewhere. As I approached the recliner, he said: "Don't look back here! Worker-guys are busy doing something back here."

("Worker-guys" could be anyone doing a job, like bagging groceries or checking out books at the library - but is most often used to describe construction crew members.)

So I tell him, "Well, I better stay out of the way if there are busy worker-guys back there. I'll try looking in the kitchen instead."

While I'm in the kitchen, going through the motions of searching for him, he yells to me from the living room, "Mom, you got a new statue in the living room."

I walk into the living room and he's standing against the wall, very still. I thought it was so cute and creative to "hide" as himself in statue form. And then, when I tickled that brand-new statue, I magically discovered that it was my son all along.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Bee attack and a Fruitista

One of my scariest moments as a mom happened on Saturday.

It was unseasonably cold, so we were decked out in long-sleeved shirts, jeans, socks and tennies. Lucky for us!

Joined by our good friends, Mo's 4-year-old buddy J. and his mama M., we set out on a nature hike - one of the boys favorite adventures. I pushed Curley in the stroller.

The big boys ran ahead excitedly with M., when they stopped suddenly. I caught up and noticed J. was crying a little and apparently had gotten stung by a bee, just behind his ear. (Ouch!)

Then Mo grabbed his belly and yelled "Ow!" and "Ow!" again.

That's when I noticed the bees swarming around me, too! We all ran in the direction of the cars, the 4-year-olds and moms screaming like crazy people.

I later told my husband that the bees seemed very "sticky" and he replied, "No, they were attacking!" I guess I'm just used to being able to shoo them away and that's that.

They were really going after Mo's jeans, and M. and I had to wipe the bees off him with our hands (and then keep running). At one point the evil little buzzers turned to me and even got stuck in my hair, and I had to pull them out with my fingers. I think I only got one sting in my scalp, but man did that hurt!

Back at the car, the swarm had finally dissipated. I stripped little Mo - and it was cold out there! - and had him jump in the car. Sure enough, when I shook out his clothes, at least two more bees flew out.

Throughout the whole thing, Curley was remarkably calm - I'm sure we were great entertainment! - so we assumed he was spared. Come to find out when we got home and striped him, too, that he had three stings on his belly.

Not sure if he got them during the swarm or later in the car? He did cry a tiny bit on the drive home. And we found a bee in the car when we pulled into our driveway. I bet the neighbors could have heard Mo shriek, my poor little man, when he discovered we brought a bee home with us.

He had the same reaction - screamed - when he found a fly in the house about five minutes later. I killed the fly for him, just for good measure.

Mo, 42 pounds, had eight stings on his belly, back and shoulders. I called the nurseline, and they said to put a baking powder paste on it, give him some Tylenol and watch him carefully. Thankfully, I already knew he's not allergic to bees - since he had a sting when he was two. If I didn't know that, I would have headed straight to urgent care.

He never cried. And he took immense pleasure in calling the bees "stupid" and "dumb" - two words that are usually banned in our house, but I made an exception in this case. I also asked what I could get him to make him feel better and he wanted nachos from Taco Bell. So I got him that and one of those Fruitista drinks - high sugar, frozen drinks that he's only had by the straw-full when his aunt is around.

With the nachos and Fruitista, he was a happy kid again. No more mention of the bees, unless someone asked or brought it up. I was worried about nightmares or a fear of going outside - but no. We spent much of Sunday outdoors and even walked in the woods on Monday.

It was like the entire, traumatic bee attack was erased by a frozen strawberry beverage from the drive-thru.

It just amazes me at how tough my boys are.

If that happened to me as a kid, I bet I'd still be terrified of bees. In fact, after Saturday, I think I am!