www.diapersandcoffee.blogspot.com

Or

Move to Blogger.

What to do, what to do…

Any suggestions?

I write one post with my new “banana smoothie” theme… and then I disappear for a good long time.

Then I change my theme again.

What can I say. I am unpredictable and fickle, at best.

Anyways, sorry for the long absence. I hadn’t really felt like blogging. Not that my life has gotten any less boring. I assure you, life with three kids makes it impossible for me to be bored.

Or sane. Just saying.

***

Now that the weather has finally started to improve, I’ve started walking the kids to the park. Sometimes Oliver insists on walking past the park all the way to the McDonald’s down the road And when I say insist, I mean that he plants himself on the corner, points in the direction of the main road and says

“I. WANT. McDONALD’S”.

I am telling you, I am this close to raising a child who will have fat and food issues and be a guest on the Maury Povich show about parents who have to padlock their refridgerators. What the H!  The other day, I just left him on the corner and he chased me while crying hysterically and still insisting that we go to McDonald’s. He was so exhausted from all the crying and running that when he finally caught up to me, I had to carry him home while pushing Wesley in the stroller. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Oh. and Wesley started to fully crawl. Whoo……EH. He went from slowly dragging his body across the floor to warp speed crawling on his hands and knees. The other day,  I left him to crawl around my room and expore while I took a quick shower. As I was stepping out of the shower, I realized that while I could hear Wes,

I couldn’t see him.

My closet door was open so I figured he had crawled himself into a corner. Icould hear him making his whining and pleading cry he does so well when he wants me to pick him up. I peeked into my closet and found a bleating pile of pink robe. Apparently he had pulled the robe off the dresser in my closet and had wrapped himself around in it.

WHOOPS!

I guess I better shut the closet doors, huh? Or I guess I could just hang up my robe. Or not leave him unattended while taking a shower. Whatever. Stop judging!

***

John is on vacation for the next seven days. WHOOT! I’m excited for us to spend some quality family time together. We’re planning a mini road trip down to Portland for a couple of days and we’re all going to be spending the night in a hotel for the first time as a family of five. Oliver has never slept in a bed other than his own. Wish us luck.

Yes. I said it.

Dried  poop.

Stuck. in. a. toy.

Just… don’t ask.

***

I like that the weather is finally starting to warm up every now and then  but strangely enough, we’re still spending all most of our time indoors. The last couple times we’ve gone to the park, Wesley broke out in little hives.  Also, I think I’m just lazy. It feels like a lot of work getting the kids dressed for the outdoors, strollers ready, suncreen on everyone, blah blah blah. I’m sure I’ll become more motivated as we get more than 2 consecutive days of warm weather. 

Or not.

***

Wesley has about four teeth now. I miss the gummy little baby grin he used to rip when I’d go get him in his crib after a particularly satisfying nap. He’s growing so quickly! He’s still nursing but eating a lot of solids. His new favorites are tiny bits of pasta and those gerber yogurt melts. When something flavorful hits his tongue, he smiles and giggles like he’s being tickled. It’s ridiculously cute.

However.

Those cute little teeth sprouting out of his gums? The ones that gleam so brightly when he splits into a huge grin? Are sharp as needles! I was nursing him a couple weeks ago and he suddenly decided to take a bite out of me.

The kid bit me.

BIT ME.

Bit me so hard that I started to bleed.

I mean, I started to bleed. I was bleeding! BLEEDING MY OWN BLOOD.

I was so shocked from the pain that I practically threw him off my lap. Of course, he started to cry from being startled but I didn’t even care. I think my concern for my son was masked by the hot searing pain caused by his barracuda teeth. For the next week, he kept chomping into me every time I tried to feed him so I contemplated just weaning him. Luckily he did finally stop. I would give him a stern lecture before each nursing session. I’d give him the “Don’t bite me or else!” speech and I think it kind of worked. I mean, he did cry a few times and I’m pretty sure I hurt his delicate little feelings but you know what? That was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

***

Hmmm, do I have any new pics?

Oh wait. I do!

Seriously, how cute is this? These are the Blues Clues ears we got from Curtis’ 4th birthday party.

Woof!

Can you see those teeth? Those sweet teeth.

Those sweet, sweet teeth belong to a barracuda. A BARRACUDA, I SAY.

I propped him to standing in his crib and um. I don’t think he liked it much? He was stuck in this position for a while and couldn’t figure out how to get back down. So… I left him there, grabbed the camera and took a picture. HELLO! What else would I do.

 ”Best. Baby. Ever”

to

“Reign of Rerror, 2 yr old style”.

I remember the first year with our son. Oliver was a docile, compliant and very pleasant baby. We would often just leave him in the stroller while we ate lunch, shopped and went to church. We’d often marvel at just how sweet a baby he was.

Then he turned one.

End Golden Year.

It started slowly.  He’d start squirming in his stroller. He’d cry in his carseat. He’d stand up in the highchair in restaurants. All age appropriate behaviors, for the most part.  Then age two came around and he suddenly wasn’t my baby anymore. His 2T clothes pants were suddenly like capris, his shirts short and tight like Britney Spears pre-Federline.  His hair long like a pre-teen with the attitude to match.

I look back at pictures mere months ago and can’t believe the chubby baby that looks back at me from the photo. Now he’s grown so tall. He speaks in long sentences and laughs and plays with his sister. He loves to line up all his Thomas the Train characters and dance to Imagination Movers. He loves food, especially french fries. We can’t drive by Mcdonald’s without Oliver howling about how he needs. NEEDS! french fries.  

He’s also become quite aggressive. In frustration, he often tends to lash out physically. He swings his arms in anger, often aimed at his poor sister’s head or someone smaller and younger than him. (He’s smart enough to know not to try to mess with the older, bigger kids at church). I’m at a loss at what to do. I tell him daily that we do not hit. To stop hitting his sister. That it is not ok to be mean to little ones. I admit that I yell more often than I’d like. He pushes me to the brink. I reprimand him over and over. He tells me “ok!” with enthusiasm and then turns around, pushes his sister out of the way and marches into the bonus room to go knock over her tea set. His anger is quick to flare and rears its ugly head often. In a matter of seconds, it’s like he becomes this crazy green monster.

I know John and I are to blame. We’ve inadvertently created a situation where he’s become “the middle child”. As our first and oldest, Evelyn is responsible and obedient. We find ourselves fawning over everything she does, whether it is a picture she draws or a joke she tells. Wesley is our youngest and last baby. We give him constant hugs and kisses while carrying him around the house. He is always hoisted on my hip . He is our last baby and we’re relishing this time while we can.

Then there is Oliver. Former Golden Child. Now he is the menace of the family, always causing trouble at playdates. Swinging his arms aggressively at anyone who even dares to look at his Thomas the Train. Vying for our attention. I’m quite sad as I type this out because I realize he’s only acting out to get our attention. Like they say, negative attention is still attention, right? I know I need to step back and take the time to nurture Oliver like I do with Evelyn. Like I do with Wesley. With affection and positive reinforcement. I feel guilty towards my older son. He deserves more from us. He deserves more from me.  He wants me to laugh at his jokes, too. All he wants are hugs and kisses. Maybe a happy meal or two. You know, the necessities in life

So yes, all his pants are too short, he’s as tall as a 3 yr old and he has the temper of his 35 yr old dad, but I need to remember that he’s still just a kid. A baby. And that he needs me.

Because even though he has a gigantic head and eats like Kobayashi, he’s still just a baby.

My baby.

Time out –  for what else, hitting his sister

Swimming with his “Wobble goggles”

WHAT. I didn’t want it to go to waste, people. I’m going green, y’all!

Anyhoo, I thought I’d write something instead of going downstairs to help myself to a large bowl of ice cream. So here I am.

Writing about ice cream.

***

The other day, I met Jen and Macalla at The Cheesecake Factory for lunch. While I was out, John decided to cut Wesley’s hair. I happen to like my boys to have long hair. Not Ryder Russel Robinson long, but just longish on the sides and top. John decided he’d just give Wes a little trim on the sides while leaving the top long. I’m assuming he didn’t expect the kid to look like one of the 3 stooges. You know… Moe?

Nyuk nyuk nyuk

He looks suspicious. And for good reason.

I took this picture today. You can’t see the bowl-i-ness (not a word, I know. Shut it)

Oh, Wesley also developed roseola as a result of his fever over the weekend. Poor guy. It looks worse than it is though.

***

In other exciting news, John bought Oliver his very own train table. Lately he’s been completely obsessed with trains. I really do not get boys and their obsession with trains and cars. To this day my brother will just surf the internet looking at cars. Even though he’s owned more cars than years driven. His obsession to me is borderline annoying but John decided to indulge his son. Thanks to craigslist, we found this very immaculate train table for 50 bucks. Gotta love craigslist.

Proud dad showing off his find. Remind me next time to tell John to suck it in before I snap the pic.

***

Randoms!

Oliver and Evelyn both like to dunk themselves in the tub. Evelyn is smart enough to plug her nose when she goes underwater.

 Oliver is not. He does, however, hold  the bridge of his nose…?

*Guess who she’s imitating?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. It’s her new way to pose for pictures. FAB

I can’t remember exactly what he did, but he got B.U.S.T.E.D. from John.

Then cried himself to sleep. Heh heh.

Easter sunday before praise. Pointy chin!

***

* She’s pretending to be Princess Fiona from Shrek. She cracks me up.

***

I just ate a scoop of ice cream. I’m SO WEAK. *SOBS*

Evelyn: Yes, I do understand………………………………………I have to poop.

Hannah Park: How do you handle three kids?

Me:  *shrugs* I don’t know………………………….

Anyways, I had a pretty fun pre-birthday weekend. On Saturday, we pigged out at Jen and Drew’s house. I am very thankful for Costco New York strip steaks. $5.89 a pound, yo. On Sunday, my family came over to my house for chinese food and a Coldstone ice cream cake.

This morning I woke up around 8 to nurse the baby. While feeding Wesley, I heard all sorts of commotion in the kitchen and went downstairs to find John and Evelyn preparing me a nice breakfast of omelettes and hashbrowns. Except John forgot to actually cook the hashbrowns. They’re currently tucked away in our freezer to be used for another occasion.

I took pictures, of course. You will notice the absolute insanity going on in the kitchen. Apparently John couldn’t figure out which utensil best suited his omelette needs, so he used four spatulas. Good thing he threw all the dishes in the dishwasher afterwards. He even wiped up the stove after he was done. Man, too bad my birthday isn’t every day.

Here’s the final product. Evelyn’s about to sample the goods.

John tried to take a picture of me with the omelette, but um. hello. I just woke up. so yeah, NO.

Do you like my gigantic coffee cup? I have at least two of those everyday. No wonder my stomach is jacked up.

This picture gives me the cold sweats. TWO cutting boards, gross misuse of bowls, egg remnants drying on the granite countertops, large knife left in reach of small children, handle turning out towards said small children.

Ugh

• **

On Saturday, Jen ordered a fabulous birthday cake for myself and Andrew. Red Velvet!
Please disregard Andrew’s hairy arm. Thank you.

Group shot! As you can see, a few kids wandered into the picture. They were drawn in by the cake. Of course my kid is front and center.

• **

Sunday:

Elliott is sooo cute. Lisa’s alright.

Evelyn likes to tell me “Elliott’s my new cousin”

He’s so cute you get two. Count ‘em. TWO. pictures.

My coldstone ice cream cake. No one had candles so John lit a match and stuck it in the middle. Afterwards, the kitchen smelled like… bathroom. Heh heh

Why yes, the cake is Oreo. Why do you ask?

Of course HE liked the cake. He had two pieces.

HA HA, Oliver just saw this picture and said “He has MUSTACHE!”

Crap. This kid’s starting to crawl. and yes, he still closes his eyes when I take his picture.

Speaking of, he’s been crying for a while. I should probably go see what’s up. SIGH. Go to sleep, dude! It’s time for mommy to watch some tv you to go to bed!

*Name the quote

I do!

Remember how I said I’d do a weekly update and that way I’d be forced to update?

HA HA HA. I’m so funny. Phew!

Anyhoo.

While my need and desire to write is always present, the opportunity or motivation comes in waves. Some days I’m really ready to let my fingers fly. Other days I’d rather surf the web looking at things I can’t afford to actually purchase. On the days I need to get somethings off my mind is the day my baby decides napping is for losers. Sometimes a run to Costco is more important than cementing my butt on this chair. When toilet paper supply starts running low, we’ve got a problem. But anyways, excuses excuses. Wah wah wah. Charlie Brown’s teacher.

***

Last night we finally attended Evelyn’s kindergarten registration. We’ve been anticipating this for quite some time now. I’ve had all my necessary paperwork filled out for at least a month and I planned for Steve to watch the kids for a couple of hours. Registration was to start at 6, and neither of us knew what to expect. The elementary school is a bit further from our house than what we originally expected and John was skeptical that we were even in the correct district. Turns out we are on the very edge of the Dieringer school district. Upon walking into the foyer of the school, we were immediately impressed with what we saw. The school is fairly new and the facilities were very clean and modern. The gym was packed with parents ready to sign their kids up for kindergarten classes and we joined the throngs of sweaty people waiting in line to submit paperwork and sign up for the screening/evaluation. She has an evaluation in April and then she starts school in the fall.

I signed her up for a kindergarten class for younger students, since she won’t be turning 5 until after the school year starts. My initial understanding was that she’d go to school two days a week, and every other Friday. I was under the assumption that the program for which I was signing her up was a pre-kindergarten/preschool type program that meets for 2.5 hours/day.

Uh. I was wrong.

Apparently this is a half time kindergarten class. Which means she’ll be attending school on Tues/Thur and every other Friday… from 8:30 – 3:00pm. ALL. DAY. LONG

Wuh.. One minute I’m signing her up for preschool and the next minute, I’m preparing my first born for real school. You know, the kind where she has to pack a lunch, get a real backpack and be away from me all day long. WAHHH.

Dude, I don’t know why this is a big deal. I was a working mom for the first 4 years of her life. I was away from both Evelyn and Oliver for 10, 11 hours at a time. So why am I being so.. weird? Should I be happy to have one child in school so I can spend more time with my boys? Won’t running errands be so much easier with two rather than three?  When the boys nap, I’ll be all by myself! I can eat as many cookies I want without her hovering around. It’ll be great! Right? Um…What’s wrong with me?!

I guess when it comes down to it, I really enjoy my daughter’s company. She always regales me with hilarious stories and funny anecdotes, plus she helps me fold the laundry and fetch diapers. But mostly, it’s hard coming to terms with the fact that she’s growing up and learning to be independant. I know I need to let her experience things on her own but that doesn’t mean I won’t be hovering behind her in the bushes. Hmmm… that sounds kind of stalkerish but that’s not what I mean.

Anyways, I’ll she’ll be fine. We all will. Sniff… pass the tissue, please.

Seriously. WHAT is wrong with me…

***

Dear Wesley,

STOP MOANING and GO TO SLEEP.

Dear Oliver,

GET IN YER BED! I CAN SEE YOU ON THE CAMERA.

Dear Evelyn,

Yes, that’s a lovely picture. Just as lovely as the other 20 you just drew and showed to me.

***

Pictures. The real reason you come here.

Dude. Come on. Can I just have ONE picture with your eyes open?
And yes. Yes, you are very cute. I love your hair.

This is one of the days he skipped his nap. Around 5:00, he collapsed into a heap in the hallway.
Doesn’t he look huge in this picture? I swear he’s only two.

Bathtime. The kids’ new favorite thing to do is dunk their heads in the water. Oliver likes to keep his eyes open while he does this. Crazy kid. He’s also brushing his stomach….? in the tub.

I told them to give each other big hugs if they wanted warm milk

Oliver looks tha-rilled!

*SQUEEEZES*
This’d be a lot easier if you just lie back

Victory!

Evelyn: Wesley, let’s take a picture!
Wesley: *cough cough, choke choke”

Group shot!

Well…

Oliver’s done. All Wesley cares about is this thumb. Evelyn would make an excellent model.

Wesley: I hate pictures