We're not in Kansas Anymore, Toto.

Pop and Circle Stands.

I always kind of thought graduation for little kids is rather silly, but cute, and some days, I'll take cute.  It reminds me that I love being a mother to these two little monsters.  And occasionally, I need such reminders, like when they've been driving me to the crazy like a semi truck shifting up.

So last night we went to Will's little pre-k/kindergarten graduation.  He's been in a private kindergarten program this year, but will be doing kindergarten again in public school next fall, because he's a September birthday and his misses the August 31 cutoff for this year.  If we still lived in California, where the cutoff is December 2, he'd be going to first grade next year and my boys would be two years apart in school.  I kind of would have preferred this, as now I fear he'll be hitting milestones so far ahead of his class that he'll be difficult to challenge, and when little boys are hard to challenge academically, they become a challenge overall.  But, it is what it is.

So square hats and official graduation song, which if you didn't know is called Pop and Circle Stands, they marched up the the risors and proceeded to charm us with singing a song and counting, literally, to 100.

Generally, Will pretty much goes with the flow of these things, but a couple of the kids were absolutely terrified to be up in front of a mass of parent paparazzi, as you can see:

Funny enough, little guy to Will's right is normally the loud, wild and talkative one in class, but apparently suffers a mean case of stage fright.  He didn't look up the entire time.

This is Will's teacher, whom I like to call "The Boy Whisperer", Ms. Nicole.  She has three boys of her own, her husband is a trainer with the Kansas City Chiefs, and she has like five brothers or something.  She knows how to communicate through the testoserone, and she was a Godsend this winter and spring after we moved him to this school in January.  He had a rough fall semester at his other school, to the point where he was so overwhelmed, he was hiding under tables and in corners to escape the chaos of 22 kids and a revolving door of teachers, and she got him back on track. She gave him the award for Most Kinesthetic Learner, which is a really generous way of saying He Who's Body Never Stops Being in Motion.  Good Luck with that, Ms. Public School Teacher of Next Year.


Oh, and not to leave out my other charmer, Drew had his Cub Scout pack's Raingutter Regatta Monday night. 

"Hi Mom!"

Here they are receiving instructions on the rules of the boat race:

"WTF? Is this making any sense to you?"

 

Also, not to be left out, Max would like you all to know that he understands the rules now, if we'd been clearer earlier none of this would have happened, it's not his fault we didn't know how to properly communicate.  But he's willing to move on, and when we're all playing in the backyard and Mommy whistles and says "Max, go home" he gets his ass up on the deck, pronto, thanks for playing, please don't push that button. 

Good Boy.

To catch a poodle, part I'veFinallyHadIt.

Dear Max,
Love you baby, I really do.  I'm sorry that I yelled at you after Will tripped and fell forward, face-down the stairs this morning and you pounced on his back like a trampoline as you raced to beat him down.  I realize that probably put you a bit on edge.  But you need to learn that when the door doesn't slam all the way shut and bounces back open and a child is simultaneously pressing the garage door button is not an invitation for you to go cavorting around the neighborhood in rain-soaked yards and flowerbeds.  It is not a game, despite my best efforts to get your attention on your tennis ball in order to catch you. 

So here's the deal, babycakes.  Next time the UPS man stops by, you and I are going to have a little come-to-Jesus meeting out in the backyard.  You're a smart boy, it won't hurt much.

To catch a poodle.

Now that Spring is here and icicles don't form on the tip when he pees, Max has discovered the joy of bolting out a door accidentally left ajar by absentminded children.  Normally, he wears a 15 foot leash at all times when out of his crate, but recently, as in the last few days, he's been going not only leash-less, but also collar-less, and there's a very good reason.  The short version is I've been too lazy busy to go to Petco and buy him a new collar after his broke.  The longer version is maybe a tad more interesting.
Sunday morning when I walked him down through the garage in my bathrobe to hook him to the tie-out line for his morning wee, he walked out the door nonchalantly sniffing and and then suddenly froze, and stood motionless, staring at the neighbor's house.  Now, Max is a bit, shall we say, bladder shy, if there are kids or dogs or other random noises, so I figured he saw some neighbor off in the distance collecting their Sunday paper off the driveway.  But he kept standing there, barely even breathing.  Finally I stepped far enough out the door that I could see what he saw: a rabbit, also sitting motionless in the grass, not six feet away. 
A f*&^*g rabbit.  Its only end of March and they are already here, starting to nibble on my just breaking through flowers.  It continued to sit there as if cryogenic-ally frozen to its spot while I pleaded with Max to just ignore it, hurry up and pee already, I need some coffee.  Finally, thinking if the rabbit would just leave, Max would go back to sniffing out the perfect spot and get his business over with, I decided a little prompting on my part might help.  So, I reached over to the shelf next to the back door and grabbed a role of masking tape, and chucked it as hard as I could at that damn rabbit. 
Again, I'd had no coffee.  Not. Thinking. Clearly.
When the rabbit bolted, Max leaped after it as if I'd just driven a spike up his ass, and he barely flinched as he reached the end of the rope and it snapped the collar off his neck into pieces.  A plastic clip style collar, not a steel belt-style collar.  Guess which kind I will be buying in the future.
He never even looked back until he was four houses down and had lost the rabbit in some bushes.  And then, as I trudged through the wet grass in my bare feet and holding up the hem of my bathrobe like a freaking princess, I saw the wheels turning in his head - "Hey - I'm free! She'll never catch me!" And he bolted further down the yards.  I had no way to catch him, collar-less and leash-less.  Although I had grabbed his 15-foot leash as I ran out the door, what to clip it to? 
I finally caught up to him when he ran up a neighbors back deck looking for their dog to play.  As I walked up their stairs and trapped him, I saw them in their kitchen, milling around getting breakfast ready.  The dad saw me, in my bathrobe and bedhead, with my stupid, panting loose dog on his back deck at eight in the morning, waved and quickly turned and walked to the front room of his house, out of the line of sight.  Thank you my friend, for offering me a little humility.
I lassoed the leash around Max and we walked home together quietly.  Once he's caught, he doesn't fight, he just walks next to you like he's supposed to.  Its when he knows he's free that he runs.
So that's the story of how his leash broke.  The second story happened yesterday evening, after I left for yoga and my husband was left to manage both boys, the dog, and a scout meeting that started in an hour.  Don't hate on me - you'd have hightailed it to yoga, too.
Anyway, apparently the door through the garage didn't shut completely when slammed, and bounced back open, enough for the dog to escape.  Its a game, he thinks, to run out the door and have his people chase him.  What better fun could there be than tag, except he never has to be It?
So today on the way home I am stopping at Petco and getting him a new collar.  A belt-style one.  And I'm considering maybe an electric collar, too.  That way, when he bolts out the door I can send a significant wattage through his veins by remote control, and he will learn pretty damn fast that when mommy says Max stop! Its in his best interest to do so.

You've been great. I'll be here all week.

Am feeling much better.  Like a human, actually.  Although I spent my weekend cleaning my house, which had totally gone to shit while I was sick, as Daddy held the fort down as best he could, and also for some reason I have the one dog on the face of the planet who does not eat crumbs off the floor.  Who knew.

Yesterday Will came running into my room while I was folding laundry and said "Mom!  Max is playing with two tennis balls at once!  He has two balls!" 

I said, "Hey, that's two more than he had this morning."

My husband groaned and said, "Glad to see you're back in action."

"I do what I can."

Nirvana. (Nevermind)

So, where were we?  Ah yes, Will was recovering from Strep, and Drew was making rocket shooting penis attachments for his Lego soldiers.  Actually, he was not aware of the appendage placement issue on his soldier, its just my gutter mind that went "wha?" when he brought it to me proudly, to show off. 

Anyway, that was a great day, Saturday.  We worked in the playroom, touching up paint and wiring lights and outlets, and buying lumber for the built-in daybed frame, and the weather was nice enough for the kids to play outside quite a bit.  Then we went back to Home Depot, our shopping habit of choice lately thanks to this project, and then had a nice dinner with the kids at Mimi's Cafe.  Movie, bedtime, a glass of wine.  A good day. 

Unfortunately, about 1:30 am Drew started vomiting.  So I got up and moved to his bed, so I could be there to help him.  He had a fever, too, and sometimes its hard to tell with him which begat the other - he tends to start vomiting when he runs a fever, no matter what the virus.  But by daylight it was pretty clear we were dealing with a stomach flu.  Sunday he laid on the couch or on his bed all day long after the puking stopped, while we worked in the playroom more and got almost finished.  We maybe have one more weekend before we're done.

(I will post pictures soon, I promise, at flickr.  I'm not on the right computer for that right now.)

This morning Drew was in much better shape, but still weak.  When you only weigh 42 lbs. and you lose 2 lbs. because you can't take in calories for 18 hours, you tends to be pretty weak. So I didn't send him to school, but took him to work with me (aka my mom's house) so he could rest there.  He hung out with Grandma, who's been staying with my parents since her fall last week where she did indeed dislocate her shoulder.  The two of them, both fragile and maybe needing a little extra attention, played board games together all day long.

So, we're okay.  We're better.  I'm sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop, personally.  To see who wakes up next in the middle of the night with the fever sweats and a grumbly tummy.  It seems that everytime things seem to be going smoothly and everyone is getting along, someone starts vomiting or the dog shits on the carpet or some other type of insanity comes along to interrupt the bliss.  Like tonight for example. 

Tonight I went to yoga while my husband fed the boys dinner and put them into their pj's.  Then when I got back, he left to run to Costco and get groceries.  I didn't have to do it, which is nice, sometimes.  I sat at the bar in the kitchen, feeling soft and warm and stretched, decompressed from my day, and ate a quiet dinner and read my new magazine while the boys played the Wii in the other room.  Bliss.  Maybe even, dare I say, Nirvana, for the mom of Chaos and Mayhem.

And then my seven year old called his little brother a dumbass.

Et tu, Brutus?

I know, I know.  I never call, I never write, I never comment.  I am sorry.  I was busy, you know, back in December, having a nervous breakdown. You may have caught that. But, am done now!  Am feeling better!  have better meds!  And lots of decent sleep over the holiday,  And plenty of wine.

So, rather than rehash all that nastiness, as I said in my first 2008 post, so not worth it and not very interesting, I shall post for you a pictoral history of my recent life instead, the good part.  That which was going on while I was breaking down, thanks to my camera phone.

It is also possibly not all that exciting, but is what I have, at the moment. Here we go!

Shopping at the new Nell Hill's, in Briarcliff, Kansas City.  Houndstooth is the new black, I've decided.  I love this chair, I cannot tell you how much.  Alas, it is $425. Sigh.

Shopping for jeans.  Not nearly as much fun, but necessary.

Ugh, this is the story of my life. If it fits my hips, it gaps in the back at the waist (I kind of can't believe I am showing you this picture).

 

Christmas Eve, three tired kids (including the niece because my SIL had to work 7-7 that day because of all the people who took vacations), biding their time waiting for Santa Claus while the grownups cook, clean, and then make them dress fancy for church.  A little cheerios and some TV never hurts.

Sign of Doom, spotted at the McWane Science Center in Birmingham, AL, two days after Christmas, when searching for a way to entertain four little boys when raining.  I may design a new banner around it.

Max played with his baby sister all week, and Gus, a very lonely beagle at my SIL's house, and was so damn tired he fell asleep at my feet with his head on a keyboard.  Hmmm, comfy.

Back in KC, more cute things found while shopping with my mom, our annual hit the flea markets and antique stores extravaganza.  Writing desk, perfect for my bedroom, alas Cheep Antiques is a misnomer as it is way outside my budget.

And now, back to work.  Back to school. Back to a new kindergarten for Will, which he went to this morning without the hesitation I was expecting.  (Mostly expecting it because he spent most of his holiday break telling people he is NOT GOING TO A NEW SCHOOL.)

Its almost 70 degrees here, folks.  I fully expect the tulips to start coming up only to freeze their pretty little petals off. Oh well.

Willie Nelson ain't got nuthin on us.

So we got back on the road again this morning to come home to a little normalcy. Max did fine, but Murphy's Law prevails and both boys seem to have a touch of the Green Apple Quick Step.
In a convenience store bathroom, Drew asked me the question which pretty much sums up our day:
"Mom, why do public bathrooms always have one-ply toilet paper? Why can't they get two-ply?"
Happy New Year everybody. See you on the other side.

I hear a distant ringing.

Last night my husband and I were sitting in bed with the laptop.  This is what it's come to, thanks to the writer's strike, and I'm not slighting them and their right to make more shitloads of money just that I WANT MY TV BACK.

Anyway, when I first set the laptop on the bed, my phone was there, too.  And then I had to wrangle the kids back into their beds several dozen times, and by the time I settled into the bed and pulled the laptop onto my, you know, lap, I had forgotten about the phone.  And Max was dozing comfortably at the foot of my bed, by my feet. 

When my husband came in we proceeded to spend 20 minutes dicking around on facebook updating my account and poking and taking quizes and all the other dumb stuff you can do there.  (See again, please bring back TV before my brain turns to mush.)  One of the things I downloaded required some kind of confirmation code, which it texted to my phone, and suddenly we heard the phone beep.  Only we couldn't find it.  It came from the direction of...wait for it...the foot of the bed.

"Oh my GOD the dog ate your new phone.  He swallowed it!"

"Don't you think it would have been a bit more muffled had it beeped from his tummy?  And also probably not intact and working? Let's be rational about this."

"Well its gone, isn't it?  And it beeped from down there."
"Maybe he's just laying on it."  Push the dog around, he grunts and harumphs at me and takes on the the distinctive air of a limp, dead dog.

"I can't believe you left another phone where he could get to it."

"Here!  Its right here.  Would you chill out?"

(grabbing at the air as I hold it away from him) "Agh! Give it to me!  Where are the chew marks? I have to check it!"

"Shut up about the chew marks!  Its fine!  See...uh, actually its wet.  I think he just licked it."

"ARGHGHGHGHGHGH!"

But at least he's not puking orange all over the house.  Could be worse.

take your dog to work day, again.

Am lobbying for Take your Dog to Work Day, everyday, but so far, no bites. Har har! *snort. Ahem.

PS- Dear Palm One Engineers, Is it really that hard to add flash to the camera of a $500 Treo smartphone? Seriously? Because black dog + no flash = shitty pictures, so thanks for that.

Wag the Dog.

Max has become quite the pain in the ass lately.  He is still generally a very personable, sweet dog, but he has also become quite mischievious in seeking attention.  His favorite way to terrorize the boys is to steal their stuffed animals off their beds.  He sneaks into their rooms, steals a plush creature, then runs down the stairs with it in his mouth, right up to the CHILD IT BELONGS TO, and I capitalize that to convey to you that this dog is not stupid, he knows exactly which room and which toy belongs to which child.  Then he shakes his head as if to convey that is he is killing said plush creature, then he bolts from the room with a child running after him screaming.  Usually what happens next is we all stop what we are doing, focus our attention on the dog, and everyone starts coming at him from different directions until he is cornered and forced to drop the toy.  He knows its bad, so he does drop once he realizes he's cornered.  Then we all go back to what we were doing, and he sneaks back upstairs and steals another stuffed animal off of someone's bed, and here we go again.

Good times.

Last night, as I found myself chasing him around the kitchen island for the umpteenth time, knowing full well I was only reinforcing in his head that this little routine is excellent fun, I suddenly had an epiphany.  I thought, What Would Cesar Do?

Cesar would not chase the dog.  Cesar would find a way to communicate to the dog that this behavior is wrong.  Cesar would say to me, "You are the pack leader!"  Cesar would make him obey.

And I decided Cesar would load up a spray bottle with water and spray the shit out of Max when he had a stuffed animal in his mouth.

So this is what I did.  I got out a misting bottle that I bought sometime ago with the idea that I would mist my houseplants with water and keep them happy and dustfree.  Its been sitting in the garage for over a year.  My houseplants are coated with dust, they cannot breathe.  Anyway, I filled it up with water, opened the doors to the boys' bedrooms to invite thievery, and waited in the hallway at the top of the stairs.

Nothing happened.  Max wandered through the house, bored, sniffed at a toy here and there, and eyed me suspiciously.  Finally I went back downstairs and out of sight, spray bottle in hand. 

A few minutes later I heards the telltale sound of scampering, and as he came around the corner from the staircase, I opened fire, spraying him right in the face.  He dropped the toy and ran back in the opposite direction, stunned.  Then he ran back upstairs.  Again, after a quiet minute, I heard him rush down the hall toward the staircase.  This time he turned and ran through the office, trying to come around from the other side.  I was ready, and as he rounded the corner into the living room, I started triggering, but he turned and ran so fast I mostly got his backside.

After that I went upstairs, and set the spay bottle on Will's dresser while I helped him get ready for bed.  Max paced around in the hall watching me.  A couple of times he came into Will's room, sniffed at a stuffed animal lying on the floor, looked up and me and walked away as if he was bored with the whole thing.  I had won.

This  morning, while we were all eating breakfast, we heard him run up the stairs.  "Mom!  He's going to get my toys!"  I said, "Its okay, let him. We have to teach him."  We waited, and sure enough he came trotting into the room, bear in mouth, but turned and fled as soon as he saw me, and I ran after him and fired a couple of rounds in his face yelling "NO!"  He didn't do it again all morning.

My husband said, "I kind of wish I had gotten that on video to post on YouTube, you screaming like a maniac and firing your little water gun like an extra in Goodfellas".  Whatever, its working.