He's gone on offense

Our poor cat. Really, his life teeters on the thin line between well loved and SPCA report. Avery carries him, feeds him (forcefully), dresses him, and (attempts) to bathe him. This week he's taken a new approach. Offense.
If Avery gets within a 5 ft radius, he attacks. It's a swift little manuever followed by a dash to the highest object possible (to avoid retribution, I presume). Since it is summer, Avery has the battle wounds confirm this vicious little game.
T and I have discussed declawing the cat, but we feel claws are the one thing that keeps us on the well loved side of the thin line. We feel they are vital to the cats defense, but this new offense has really thrown us for a loop.
Suggestions?

15 minutes at our house

1. Noticed something a tad odd about the cat. "Avery, what did you do to Thomas." "Oh, Lipstick mommy." Great...I guess I'll be getting new lipstick. But it is really Thomas's color, we'll save the rest for him.

2. Avery notices that Eli sleeping in the buff (trying to help that diaper rash). "Ohhh, he's wearing the same jammies as daddy." I about lost it at that one. DH had NO idea Avery knew about that...guess he won't be wearing those "jammies" anymore!

Bribery

I'm most definately not above bribery. Tonight, I had a stroke of bribery genius.

T and I wanted to go out to dinner, but didn't plan enough ahead to get a sitter. I actually enjoy taking the kids along and believe it is important that children learn restaurant manners. However, Avery has a very hard time staying in her seat with the overstimulating decorations in restaurants. She wants to analyze every picture.

Nothing motivates Avery quiet like cold, hard cash. Sad, that at two we can't get away with an M&M or something. However, I took a dollar bill stuck it on the chair and told her to sit on it. I said if she got up, I'd be able to take it back and then it would be mine. If it was still there after dinner, then it was hers.

Easiest meal of our lives.

It just makes sense

Avery has a few things (okay more than a few) confused. However, her logic is so much better than conventional logic that I can't even explain it to her without confusing myself a little. So, in order to make things simple, I'm just going to try to change the thinking of the world and allow Avery's logic to remain. I'm pretty sure I'll be more successful that way.

Consider yourself warned:
The thing cowboys ride on are cows, not horses.
Unicorns don't have horns on their head, they have corns.

If you could, please spread the word.

Not that I'm prejudice or anything

I do believe some syllables are more important than others. Avery is going through this thing where she sometimes will leave off the last syllable of a word. When she says "Mom", instead of "Mommy"....not a big deal at all. However, if you happen to be a Target with an incrediably friendly two year old, the last syllable of "Hello" is much, much more vital. Especially when she says it over and over and over. I'm sure of this because I saw the looks. Lots of them.

NOW, I remember why.

Do you ever have the moments why you wonder why you do something? Then, you think about it and realize maybe you do it that way because that is how you've always done it. Maybe this time it would be okay to change things up a bit. It happened to me today.

I decided that I'd go to the bathroom and *gasp* shut the door behind me. What a glorious minute and a half of privacy and freedom that was! It was nice to not be given a play by play of my movements or answer questions like "You poopin' mommy? Is it a big poop?" It was quiet, peaceful, and serene.

Then, this poor little face that greeted me was the reminder on why I rarely go to the bathroom by myself and by all means don't shut the door if I do.


Poor kid. And the culprit was caught "green handed" and very, very proud of herself.

You got to love it...

Sorry folks, I'm feeling kind of sappy today so bear with me. I just have to say that T is the best daddy in the world. Right now he is re-laying our brick patio (not sure why...when he talks landscaping, I just hear "wah, wah, wah wah wah, wah wah"). However, he encourages Avery's "help" (that term is very, very generous). Instead of getting her out of the way and just getting the job done, he wants it to be their project together. I just love it! All too often, I feel, that little girls get pushed to the side while daddy's do "manly" tasks. I love that T engages Avery and encourages her along the way.
On T's way home from work there is one of those billboards that says, "Have you been a father today?" T always tells me how sad it makes him that some dads need a billboard. Even with a billboard...some dads just don't get it.
So, how has your man (or you...if you are a dad) been a father today?

Memories are made of this

Today, my sister and I took our kids to a drive-thru wildlife “safari”. Now pretty much anytime you take six kids somewhere, there is a decent chance something memorable will happen.

We get there and while we are in line to start our drive through the park, we allowed the kids to get out of their seats and come up to the front (we went less than 5 mph the whole time). This allowed them the opportunity to feed the animals. Sounds cool, right? And considering I coughed up $6 for a 2 lb bag of carrots, I wanted them to get the full experience.

This kind looking gentleman was our first customer…We called him Luey.

The kids blew about a pound and a half of carrots on him and so we had to roll up our windows to escape him, but he continued to follow us our entire drive. He’d “attack” us from behind and all the sudden there he’d be with his head in my lap. The first time this happened was the point that my darling decided she was done with the festivities of the day and assumed this position for the rest of our adventure:

This next portion of our adventure, definitely elicited the most giggles. Check out the tongue on that sucker. It will also be the reason that tomorrow I am steam cleaning the car. You can’t be sticking your tongue out like that and not dribbling saliva. Ack.

Of the six kids in the car, four of them were screaming when this guy stuck his head in to say howdy. This would be the point when my windows malfunctioned and would not roll up. To say it wasn’t pretty, is putting it nicely. Can you imagine four screaming kids (Avery included), this not entirely friendly fellow, and a window that will not go up. Ahhh…the kids will remember that for sometime.

But in the end…even through the screaming kids, buffalo head in my van, $6 carrots, giraffe saliva, and the sneak attacks by Luey this is how I’ll remember the day. This picture was at the small petting zoo they also had to visit. This folks is what it is all about:

Quite the little "helper"

I hope you folks are up for another one of these!

So, as if yesterday's gag inducing (hey...I'm weak) poop event wasn't enough, Avery trumped me today.

The words, "Mommy, I changed Eli's diaper" should not elict sounds of "Awwww" or "What a sweetie". Your first thought should be, "Aww Crap!" (no pun intended).

When faced with circumstances such as this, it is best to immediately survey the damage (and my, was there damage). Eli was in the pack-n-play. Which, if you are unaware, has to be THE hardest possible piece of baby gear to clean. I'm not sure words could adequately express how horrific a sight I encountered. I'm sorry to say the first thing that popped into my mind was, "Now THIS is a Kodak moment!". It was much closer to...."Yikes, get that out of his hand before he eats it."

I'm lucky I didn't vomit. I'm pretty sure the only thing that prevented that from happening was the thought that it would just be one more thing I had to clean up and I was already at capacity.

And, FYI...After bathing the boy (no I didn't use Clorox...but I was tempted), I put the pack N play in a trash bag and took it to the carwash. Nothing a little high pressured water didn't take care off (okay, yeah, I'm still a tad freaked out by the thing, but I'm trying to think positive).

I'm certainly hoping that's the end of poop stories for a while...as I am sure you are too!

We're going with door #2

So, I admit that I procrastinated a bit. Yesterday, I ask Avery what we should get daddy for Father's Day. Her first suggestion was a "shiny new black truck". Now considering my ridiculous Mother's Day gift and budget, that wasn't going to fly. I asked if she had any other ideas. She says with great enthusiasm, "Socks!" I'm pretty sure someone had been feeding her a gift idea . Good thing I've got an enthusiastic traitor on my hands.

Talking back

I'm sure this doesn't bode well for the teenage years. Avery's started talking back. So far it is just to toys, but it has happened more than once. This morning was the perfect example. She has this little shape sorter with a baking theme. This morning she put one of that shapes in and it said, "Want to bake with me?" She got all exasperated and says, "Noooooo, I'm plaaaaaaaying now." Yep, good girl stand up for your right to play. Stupid toy was trying to get her to go bake. I'm sure some man designed it so the future generations of men have a "good" wife. There's no tricking her with that little piece of psychological warfare.

I need to slow down apparently...

I didn't realize that I have been driving too fast until recently. Two days ago, some unnamed backseat driver says, "Wow Mom, you're really laying on the gas, huh?" Then, yesterday, I get, "Mommy are we in a race? Are we winning? You are driving fast."
Okay, who asked her opinion and where did she learn about "laying on the gas"?
And...FYI, I usually only go 5 mph over the limit. And most of the time when I'm going faster it is because a certain someone or their little brother is stinking up the van.

Reason enough not to get a cat for a 2 y.o.

Ever wonder why a 2 year old shouldn't have a cat?
2 year olds like Band-Aids. Cats....not nearly as impressed with Band-Aids.

Personification and a two year old

There are many literary elements I hope Avery eventually learns. She's learned personification already. She's actually got it down pat. Unfortunately, it might lead to someone calling Children Services on me, but let's just start by defining personification:

personification- n. 1. a personifying or being personified 2. a person or a thing thought of as representing some quality, thing, or idea; embodiment; 3. a figure of speech in which a thing, quality, or idea is represented as a person

Okay, got that? Basically, it is when you give something human characteristics. Something, like say a scraped knee.

So, we're in Target picking up essentials like diapers, wipes, formula, and smoothie mix (if you haven't tried their smoothies...you don't know why I'm classifying them as essentials, but if you have tried them you know what I mean). Avery, again, refuses to ride in the cart. At one point near the shoe polish, she trips over herself and falls hurting herself. At this point, she decides the cart isn't such a bad place.

Then it starts. "Owwwww...you're hurting me." "Please stop hurting me, I'll be good and ride in the cart." "Owwww...you're hurting me." "Pleeeease, stop." She wasn't talking to me. She was talking to the wound. Do you think the person in the next aisle over knew that my child is gifted and had mastered the art of personification at two? Doubtful. I'm pretty sure he thought that I was beating her. And as she continued pleading with the wound to stop hurting her throughout the rest of our Target shopping experience, I'm pretty sure quite a few others thought so too.

And that, my friends, is your literary lesson of the day.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Well, night one with the kitty would have been an absolute riot had I not been coming off two weeks at a frantic pace and utterly exhausted.

You can just imagine how bedtime went over considering that was right about the time DH and Avery arrived home with Mr. O'Malley (the kitty....named from the Aristocats).I think we probably had to put her down about thirty times. That's not exagerrating to make the story better. That's fact. So, the reason she had "earned" the kitty was that she'd stayed in her own bed all night (genius dad's plan).

Wouldn't you know it at 3:00, we get not one but to visitors to our bed. "Look daddy, I got my kitty."This basically starts World War Avery in our bedroom. DH tells her she needs to go to her room, she refuses. It gets a little messy as they "argue" (since the voice of reason was trying to block them both out and get a bit more sleep). I wake up, diffuse the situation, get her back to bed, and all is well with the world again. For about 10 minutes and then it starts all over. Avery enters room, dad tells her no, Avery says no, mom tries to sleep, mom gives up, Avery goes to room. Lather, rinse, repeat and that's how the rest of the night went. Over and over until, Avery crashed about 20 minutes before we had to get up.

I couldn't help but giggle even through my sleep deprevation at how miserably DH's plan had failed. Did he seriously think getting her a kitty would make her stay in her bed? Our only hope is that she will stay in her room tonight because she realized kitty has claws.So here is Thomas... I particulary like the one where she is trying to make him turn his face and show his good side.

The fish is doomed.

Yep. I'm pretty sure his days are numbered and it is all my DH's fault. Grab some popcorn, sit back, relax, this might be a rather long one!

Avery has been coming to our bed in the middle of the night. Not for any reason, but to cuddle in and fall right back to sleep. DH in all of his parenting genius told Avery that if she stayed in her bed at night, he'd get her a kitty. How's that for a reward? Idiot. So, miracle of all miracles, she stayed in her bed all night that very night. Can you say master daddy manipulator? First thing she said when she woke up was, "Where's my kitty." Umm, score one for the two year old.

First thing she tells my mom when I drop her off, "Daddy is bringing me a kitty today." So, I call my DH and told him Avery fully expects a kitty. Today. Black. It darn well be a kitten and not a cat. Per the girl's specifications. Litter trained. Per the wife's order.

So, DH spends all day trying to find a kitty. A black one. Kitten, not a cat. Today. Litter trained. No luck. Comes in the door tonight and Avery runs yelling, "You got my kitty?" At which point a look of total defeat crosses my DH's face. Score two, for the two year old.

He had actually found her a black kitten. Only problem was it was stuffed. She didn't buy it. Score three, for the two year old.He expands his search to a neighboring community. Finds a kitten. Litter-trained. Black and white. Loads up Avery and off they go to see if he'll meet the requirements. I remind DH that if this kitty is up to the inspectors specifications that he needs to get food, a litter box, and litter.

They come back a bit later. Kitty in hand as well as a litterbox, food, and litter. And also cat bed, collar, and numerous cat toys. Can you say sucker? Score another one (I've lost track) for the two year old. DH had said that the kitten was "free to a good home"....umm yeah, how did that work out for you buddy?

As they walk in the door, who gets to meet the kitty first???? Mommy? Izaac? Eli? Remember what this post started out to be about? The fish. Poor guy. He's had it rough as it is and things are just starting to calm down. He hasn't needed any fish therapy in weeks. So, Avery presses poor kitty's face to the aquarium and introduces them. Now that Avery's gone to bed, I've tried to explain to the fish about a possible opening in the witness protection program, but he was too distraught.

Another Avery funny: She was showing the kitty and I all of the "tuf" her and her dad had gotten at the store. She pointed to the bed and said "sleep" and then pointed to the litter box and said "poop". I'm pretty sure the kitty understood.

A glimpse into his perspective

Izaac's teacher sent home a portfolio with some of his writing from this year. Here is his paragraph about a family member:

My sister is the craziest person, or at least I shink she's a person. She will attack if you sit on the floor or put you in a nelson if you sit on the couch. She never leaves me alone, sometimes she even busts in on me in the bathroom. I hope my sister is human, but still I wouldn't want to lose her.

My thoughts after reading this:
1. Who's scrapbook does this go in....Avery's or Izaac's?
2. Ummmm, buddy, that nelson thing is totally your own fault.
3. Yeah, the bathroom thing happens to me too.
4. Pretty sure she's human, but I too have had my doubts.
5. I wouldn't want to lose her either....or him!Stay tuned for the next installment of Izaac's writing...he's WAY funnier than I am!