What Goes Around Comes Around

I have so many,many nicknames for my short people that it's hard to imagine that they know their own names.

For my daughter there's - Blond Child, Little Bear, Itsy Bitsy, Shrimp, Sweets, Angel Bear, Lovely, Crack Smoker, and I'm sure a couple more that I'm forgetting.

...it's the same for my son

His various nicknames are - Super Baby, Super Kid, Hero, Super Hero, Midget, Little Dude, Evil Baby, Charles the Second, Crack Baby, and again, there's probably a few more I'm forgetting....but let me get on with the story.

This past weekend, Connor decided that he was extra, EXTRA, EXTRA, bored and wanted to play in my little sewing basket....which is really a plastic bag from Walmart....and I gently took the BAG OF DEATH away from him that was filled with EYESIGHT DAMAGING NEEDLES and RESPIRATORY INTERRUPTING, BUT OH SO COLORFUL STRING and told him "I don't think so Crack Baby. You don't get to play with this. No touching please."





and because he's my son, he responded with





"Mine! Crack Mommy!"





Oh yeah, I want a thousand more just like him.

Feel The Love

This is my Pimp.

This is my Pimp on drugs.




Okay, okay, in all seriousness - he's not my pimp. That's my son..aka The HEATHEN. Hero. Midget Man. Little Dude. Mean Baby. Little Baby. Belly Man. Cuteness. Stubborn. Jr. Little Daddy. The walking - MAKE MOMMY SCREAM MACHINE.

Look deeply into his shockingly hazel eyes...you can see the love he has for his mother if you look really hard and relax and clear your mind. Enjoy the peace of your surroundings. Everyone coming together in friendshit...er friendship and peace. Your eyelids are getting heavy and you're getting sleepy. So very, very sleepy. No, this isn't the time for a Red Bull. Just relax and feel the baby love. Now just relax. How do you feel? Good. That's very good.

Now I want you to think about your bank account....yes, that's good....very good. Now I want you to tell me about it...just so you can release your stress from thinking about money and bills and just give all that stress to me. Let me have your stress. Let me help you with your bank account.

Yes, that's right. Let me help you. Let me do this for you. Don't you feel better? Feeling that stress just melt away like purged poison.

Now take a deep cleansing breath, and tell me your routing number.

That's good, but give me just a minute...I need a pen. Okay, once more please. That's very good. You are a very good girl aren't you. That's right. Tell me about your savings......I meant lack of savings. No, we don't need to talk about that any more.

Enjoy the peace of mind I have given you....take another cleansing breath and feel the the tension and angst leave your body thru your finger tips. Now I want you to take those same finger tips and sign this Power Of Attorney. That's very good. Very, very good.

Yes, you are a good, good girl. Let me pet your head. ..... Don't use so much hairspray next time, I cut my finger....but you're still good aren't you.

Now I want you to wake up very slowly. Slowly slowly slowly. When you wake up, the only thing you will remember is the cute baby pictures I showed you earlier, and you will awaken with intense feeling of friendship and love for me. No, not that kind of love....*ahem* I didn't know you were that way....the friendship love. Yes that's right.

Nothing but love and friendship and shopping.

And powerful baby love.

He Learns From the Master

My life is complete now.

I have everything I need. I have done what I intended to do on this earth and I can now go meet THE BIG CHEESE with a clear conscience.

I have taught my son to cuss.

Yeah.

I try not to cuss in front of my kids, but it doesn't always work...and really it could have been anyone who taught him that word, but I really think it was me. I mean, he used it with such CONVICTION and FEELING - it had to me - there aren't to many people out there that can use vulgar language like I can - it's my medium.

Reminded me of the time when Lauren was about his age...I put her on my lap to show her how the computer works so she could play some simple games, she turned around, put her cute little baby hands on my face and said "Mommy, you are such a bitch."

Now, while that may be true...she's not allowed to point that out until she's a teenager.

Connor took a completely different approach to try and get my head to explode from shock.

Let me set the scene for you.

Happy baby in the living room playing with stuffed animals...kiss-kiss, kiss-kiss - throw, giggle. Happy baby takes off clothes and beats himself in the stomach while yelling BELLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYY. Happy baby looks a picture book. Happy baby plays with big Tonka truck - picks it up and drops it on his previously happy baby toes. Happy baby is no longer happy and proves this by saying. DAMN! DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN MOMMY! while stomping his feet and then kicks Tonka truck again hurting his un-happy baby toes. Another chanting litany of DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN follows.

I can not move. I'm in shock - I'm totally shocked. I'm shocked he didn't say Fuck. That is, after all, the word I use the most.

Feet Feet

Connor's vocabulary is finally starting to take off now that his ear infections seem to have mostly cleared up.

It's unbelievably cute.

There are some limits of course...I mean, he's not even two yet.

Almost all the body parts he's got. He can say feet, knows where his toes are, knows what I'm talking about when I tell him to put his arm in his coat and will pull his own hair on demand (what little bit he has), will poke me in the eye while pronouncing loudly EEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE etc etc...but now we're getting into the good stuff...animals.

On our trip to GA, Hero noticed some weird looking things in that big blue thing over our heads and he said his famous words...."What's 'at?" while pointing crazily. It took me a minute to get the clue that the Midget was pointing at - a bird in flight.

"Bird" I said.

"HUH?" - this is also a famous Connor phrase

"Bird" I repeated

"Huh?"

"Bird"

"Huh?"

"Bird?" - okay this is a little repetative.

"Huh?"

"Bird"

PAUSE "BIR"

"YES!!! BIRD!! VERY GOOD! GIMME FIVE!!!" Man I was proud. Little Dude said Bird. "Birds say Tweet Tweet"

"Huh?"

"Birds say Tweet Tweet. Birds sing and say Tweet Tweet"

"Huh?"

"Birds sing Tweet Tweet"

"Feet Feet Mommy! Feet Feet!"

Makes you pause for a moment doesn't it....I am so damn magnificent that the birds sing their praises to my feet.

You may now bow. ...no, all the way down...keep going. Yeah, okay, that's fine...but keep praciticing.

I've Been Gotten

My evil wench daughter knows all about revenge. I've taught her well it seems. Unfortunately, I'm the one she has gotten revenge against.

Damn it.

Me - Connor! Give Mommy kisses.

Connor - No!

Lauren - Say "EEEEWWWWWWWW" Connor!!!

Me - Lauren, don't do that. You'll teach it to him!

Lauren - *giggling* I know She turned back to her homework still giggling.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "She has no idea how hard headed this kid is. He won't say it just to spite her." I thought to myself, and turned my attention back to the little kid entering his terrible two's who was currently rolling around on the floor giggling from my tickling fingers.

Me - Come ooooonnnnnn Connnnnerrrrrr! I sing-songed and tickled while he wriggled and giggled and tried to get away.

Connor - No Mommy! No!

Me - PLLLEEEEAAAAASSSSEEEE!! Mommies need kisses from little babies.

Lauren - Say "EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" Connor! Lauren said giggling.

Me - Blond child! (meaning Lauren) I'm gonna put you in the head lock. Lauren giggled and stuck her tongue out at me and turned back to her homework. She was having trouble immersing herself in the wild adventures and undiscovered territory of Ponce DE Leon.

I looked at Connor who had curled up in a protective ball to keep my probing fingers away from his belly, but it wasn't very effective in keeping me away from his ribs, feet and back. I paused for a minute - the poor kid was having a hard time catching his breath. I let him get a couple of good breaths and I walked my fingers up his back and watched him squirm.

Me - Coooonnnnnneeeerrrrrrr. Mommy really needs a kiss. Why don't you give Mommy all of your baby kisses. I couldn't help but laugh. He was curled up in a ball face down with his forehead on the floor and was squirming so hard I was afraid he was going to get rug burn on his face.

Connor - No MOMMY! *giggles* No! EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Icky Mommy! Yuck! *giggles*

Lauren jumped out of her chair with a resounding YYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! and did a victory dance singing "oh yeah. Uh hu. Oh yeah. Icky Mommy. Nice and yucky. oh yeah. that's right. I said it. Can't stop it. I got it. You can't have it. Oh yeah." ...and just for your visual of her - she was dancing like an Egyptian and snapping her fingers with a pencil behind her ear and a piece of apple in her mouth.

I looked at Lauren "I'll get you later Shrimp." I said with mock menace. "Do your homework" and turned back to Connor who was watching his sister grove like she'd been taised. I picked him up and buried my face in his little neck and nibbled.

Me - Connor. I want my kisses, and I want them now little baby. I said softly.

Connor - *giggling* EWWW Mommy. No. No kiss. No.

Lauren - *snicker* I told you.

The Workings In The Mind Of Baby Einstein

CONNOR SAID HIS FIRST COMPLETE SENTENCE THIS MORNING!!!!!!!!!!

He said "Daddy, what's 'at?"

How cool is that? I am doing the funky strut this morning (quite a turn around from yesterday - and thanks to those of you who chimed in - I appreciate the lurrrvvvv)

This is a true milestone because to Connor:

Everything liquid is "Milk". He takes a bath in "milk", he never drinks anything other than "milk" and he even pees "milk". ..and the cup that he drinks out of is also "milk", and so is the cup I rinse him off with in the tub. So let me see here...My son drinks milk from the milk, pees milk, takes a bath in milk and gets rinsed of with the milk in the milk. ...but he doesn't just say "MILK" it's "Mil-milk". What can I say...my child is gifted.

Everything with wheels is a "Truck" (beep beep truck!) It doesn't matter if it's a bicycle - hell, it could be a UNIcycle and he'd still call it a truck. Correction is futile. "Look Connor! A bus!" "No! Mommy. TRUCK!" and in all honesty he really can't say "truck" all that well. He doesn't have the teeth for it yet - so it's really a "CRUCK" - so sayeth Connor and his word is absolute. Sorry yall. You'll have to correct your vocabulary from here.

All animals, with the exception of puppies and kitties (he calls the kitties "Maows"), are "bears". It could be an armadillo or a komoto dragon and he'd still call it a "bear". OH! but we have progressed to "bird" and when the birds sing they go "feet feet".

I'm trying to get him to say "I love you". I'm constantly whispering it to him, calling it to him, telling it to him, kissing it to him...and he just nods his head....like he already knows that I love him and that's all that the universe needs. He may be right...but I can't wait to hear it. He will at least blow me a kiss and I do loves me some baby kisses.

So there you have it folks. Connor is exactly 22 months old today - and he said his first complete sentence. Finally.

Hold your applause please....we're getting ready for the potty training thing.

UPDATE

Thanks to one of my blogging buddies, I realize that I have been remiss in keeping everyone up to date on family....and that is part of the purpose of this blog (keeping my family up to date on my family....yeah, I make sense).

So, I'm going to put aside the post planned for today and update you all instead (now's the perfect time to slam one of those RED BULL things)

I'll start with Charles...aka Boogerhead, Victim, Slave, Perfect Man, Shit Head or Fuck Face. (Hey Grandma, please don't read those last two). He's doing very well. He keeps his sugar in line like a good man so I don't beat him.....what?.......you know he's scared of me.......I have children and I know how to inflict pain. We are doing very well. He keeps me laughing and we have a good time together.....and then he gets dressed.(on second thought grandma, please don't read this entire paragraph)

Connor is doing very well. He's mid-thigh on me now and is saying so many new words, it's hard for me to keep up. He is such a STRONG willed person. STUBBORN as the day is long. Time-out doesn't work for him and it concerns me that I have to pop him as much as I do, but at the same time I'm glad he's that way. It makes me happy to know that he won't be anyone's doormat, but it sure makes teaching a lot more difficult. He still only has 9 teeth and he'll be 2 in early May. I'm just about to the point where I'm going to take him to the dentist to see if he was born with anymore teeth buds in his gums...I'm really getting concerned now...no, I'm not kidding. Poor kid can barely eat a cracker. He can't chew it. It just sits in his mouth until it gets soggy and then he swallows.

Lauren...I don't know where to start. I had done 6 or 7 lengthy paragraphs on her and deleted them. Let's just say that she's a lot like her mother was at that age and I'm not enjoying it. I would like to send out a big raspberry to my mother for cursing my children to be just like me. I'm on the look out for gray hair.

She is up to my shoulder now and she's only 8 (I'm 5'7") and yesterday I looked at her pants - the ones I had bought her in Dec (they were a little long)and they are high waters....OMG.

In other news.....

I am getting a guy to come and service the treadmill on Tuesday to make sure everything is A OK with it so I can start exercising a bit. I know it runs, I've already turned it on...but it's been in storage for a couple of years so I want to make sure there's no problem before I put my over weight and lumpy ass on it. I'll be going out today at lunch to buy walking shoes and a sports bra (I hope they make them in extra huge - nothing like a huge uni-boob to turn your man on). I went this weekend and got a pedometer....my only concern now is if I'm going to show up on the Richter scale.

The plan right now is to get up earlier and do my thing then. The alarm goes off at 6 am and I don't usually drag my butt out of bed until later - about 6:30 or sometimes 7 when I've been staying up with Charles The Night Owl....but I'm going to have to get out of bed at 5 or so to do this. I'm excited. I'm ready to look great and feel better and have more energy....and to be able to do this with out surgery and crystal meth ....well, it's an overwhelming feeling I can tell you.

That's about it.

Love you all

Angela

My Midget Is Cute

I took Connor to the Dr on friday. He was way past due (at almost 21 months) for his 18 month well baby check-up.

In the midst of all the Dr. visiting we do (and we do it at least once every two weeks, sometimes more), I didn't schedule Connor for his well baby check-up because I figured the Dr had checked him enough. Not so, said the nurse...and I had a hard time believing her because he had been sick so much that he still had not had is 15 month shots!!!

Being the chastened mommy that I was, I called to make ANOTHER appointment (even got to say Hello to Lin - I know she still loves me)...only to find that Connor's pediatrician quit to start his own practice 3 counties away for the poor and underpriveledged with no access to health care. (DAAAAAMMMNNNN) While I admire him for what he's doing and wish him well, I wish he wasn't going...but, there's nothing I can do about that, so I switched his primary Dr to another Dr he had seen on several occasions and scheduled an appointment to come in.

I showed up for the appointment 5 minutes early....and waited 30 minutes after the appointed time to be called back to see the nurse...because we all know the Dr. doesn't show up until later.

I liked the nurse...she seemed a bit scattered, but nice enough, seemed to know the drill and Connor liked her...which is important to me...because kids can smell a bullshit artist a mile away. She did the standard height, weight and head measuring and asked me a million questions and then asked me if I had any questions. We spoke for a bit and then I asked for his percentages.

She plugged his info into her portable laptop. First, his height (he is in the 25th percentile for kids in the 18 month age group) then his weight (75th percentile) and head measurements (again, 75th percentile).

I had to pause. Basically what she was telling me was that I had a short, fat baby with a big head.

I laughed a little, and then felt guilty for laughing.

So I kissed my short, fat baby on his big head and tickled his distended belly and miniture ribs.

There now, all better.

Give Me Furniture Or Give Me Death

Man oh man!

I need some living room furniture in a bad way. I am absolutely fed up with it.

I would like to be free from fear - fear of sitting on the overstuffed armchair - scared that it's going to try to eat me again. Last time I tried to sit in the damn thing I sunk way down deep in it and COULDN'T GET UP. I felt like those old people on that commercial for Life Alert and wished to hell I had one. It was not pretty - especially since I was at home with just Connor and I was stuck - practically folded in half and pinned by a chair. (Yes,I have grace - what can I say)

*Grunt Grunt uuuugghhhh!*

"Damn it!!!! Son of a...hi sweet baby, mommy will be up to get you some milk in a minute. No, nonononooooo, please don't cry. Mommy will get you some milk, I promise. NO SCREAMING. Connor, look at that toy over there honey - isn't it cool."

*More wriggling and squirming*

"Sorry peice of shi...come here baby, give Mommy a kiss ...NO NO! Don't play with the vacumn cleaner honey, that's not a toy. I said to put it down. Connor Allen! Boy, you're getting ready to have a bad day"

*wriggle squirm wriggle squirm*

"Connor - SON! you're going to break it! Go play with Elmo, that's right Elmo. Elmo likes to dance. There you go! Dance with Elmo!"

*I try to dance along folded in half and trapped in the chair - the fluffy jaws of death had me in a firm grip - I could not get leverage to get out - it just wasn't happening.*

"Connor honey, don't throw Elmo. Pick him up. Connor, I said to pick him up."

*Connor toddles happily away*

*Son of a bitch - sorry rat ass bastard of a chair! I'm gonna burn this thing...if I ever get out of it."

Grunt, wiggle, squirm, cuss

"Connor! Connor! Come back in the living room sweetie! Do you want to sing the Itsy Bitsy Spider? Connor!"

Then suddenly without warning - the chair released me....I was free, and I haven't put my ass in that thing since.

No one else has had any problems with that damn chair. The frigging thing is out to get me.

I'm going to visit the Basset store....and I'm not buying any stupid overstuffed armchairs either

East Coast Living

I had thought about breaking this up into 3 different parts, but that is going to take entirely to much effort and I have shit to do. Read some now, and come back later and read the rest if you can't stand to read it all in one go. (lazy ass)


I love living here on the east coast. Really I do. I've lived further inland and have visited as far west and north as Montana - and it was beautiful, but I like living here. Lots of trees, lots of green shit all over the ground (the animals have upset stomachs) and I can grow an ass load of flowers and shit if I can ever manage to keep the friggin Japanese Beetles from killing every damn thing (notice how I blame them).

There are a few disadvantages to living over here:

1 - Inbreeding. Laugh if you must, but it's a friggin reality. You know the story of somebody's cousin gettin' hitched to one of his cousins? Yeah well, I have a distant cousin that did that. I'm not kidding. They are second cousins and they have offspring. No shit. They were fully aware when they tied the knot. Apparently, it didn't matter. Their kids have 6 toes (okay, NOW I'm joking - or maybe not - I've never met their kids or seen their feet - of course, If I had seen their feet with out actually meeting them that would imply that they are detachable or they've been severed and either thought is just a little to "out there" for further contemplation)

2 - The BUGS. Oh My God. I have wolf spiders around my house that are as big as my palm. I'm not kidding or exaggerating. It's plain nasty.

We also have Japanese Hornets, Yellow Jackets, Bumble Bees, Carpenter Bees, Honey Bees, Wasps, stinging flies, biting flies, horseflies, gnats, mosquitoes, fleas, ticks, a BILLION species of moth, Black Widow spiders, Brown Recluse Spiders (I just found out the other day from one of my clients that there have been a rash of those biting people here lately), red backed spiders, regular black spiders, garden spiders, Japanese Beetles, cicadas, Katiedids, June Bugs, Beetles, cockroaches, termites, grasshoppers, crickets, camel crickets and any other kind of insect that "The Big Cheese" decided he wanted to torture me with. (Thanks for that God - 'preciate it).

I live in a cloud of DEET, go through endless cans of bug spray and I'm starting to seriously consider having an affair with "Bubba" (cause that is one guy the can chew some Hubby Bubba - even if he only has one tooth) the pest control guy to cut down on the monthly costs of treatment. Hey, it's all about home economics and tightening the budget belt. This is just one of ways they don't teach you in school or talk about in expose magazine articles. I mean, I've already seen his crack - you'd think he was a damn plumber with the way he shows it off or something, and you really know a lot about a guy after you've seen his crack.

3 - Storms. I hate storms. I'm scared of Thunderstorms. (insert wussy jokes here) I hate it when the storms roll in with low hanging clouds and the thunder shakes the house. I'm constantly walking to all the windows in the house - back and forth, back and forth, to look out of the windows. My x-bastard said I looked like a caged puppy - to wit I responded that I wouldn't be waggin' my ass in his direction anytime soon.

Hurricanes and all Tropical Storms suck big donkey dicks. They throw out tornados for fun and that just doesn't endear them to me. I want to keep my shit thank you. I won't appreciate having to crawl out from underneath the ruins of my homestead and walking a mile down the road with the baby on my hip to pick up old bank statements and deny that any of the other rubbish is mine so I don't have to pay to have it removed.

Ernesto the Pesto hit here this past friday. It wasn't to bad. I was expecting worse to be honest. It turned east before we got the full wallop and so we were spared the horribleness of the eye of the storm.

I worked all day and left at exactly 5pm. I was worried about some of the low spots flooding out on the roads for me to get home, so I drove as fast as was safely possible and beat feet to the house. I stopped by the little country store that is 2 1/2 miles away from my house and picked up a gallon of milk and a couple packs of cigs and went home. No worries.

I walked in the house and there was no power, no phones, no nothing. DAMN.

You may remember that Charles has been out of town in NC. We were also still expecting the worst of the storms in a couple of hours. So there I was, in the house with Lauren (who is also scared of storms) and with super baby, a dog, three cats, and I'm sure an endless variety of creepy-crawlys that had managed to squirm, wriggle and bore their way into my sactuary to get out of the rain. Did I mention it was starting to get dark? Yeah, the fun factor went right off the scale.

Like I said, it wasn't to bad. We got a lot of rain - which we needed and that was about it...except there were no lights and no phones. Super kid had mercy on me and went to sleep for the night at 7pm - an unheard of phenomenon. Lauren and I made a great big pallet on the living room floor and I read her some of The Hobbit until the lighting was bad enough I had to stop before my eyes exploded.

We made shadow puppets in the flickering candle light and watched the storm whip the trees around a bit.

The lights came on about 9ish and Lauren jumped up and down and yelled "MOVIE!" - so that was the end of the quality mother-daughter time.

The phones didn't come back on until about 6 or so Sunday night. Did I mention I have dial up? Did I mention that I read blogs EVERY DAY???? I was about to DIE. Hello, my name is Nikki, and I'm addicted to the internet.

I was FORCED - do you hear me? - FORCED to spend quality time with my family. Now they think I love them or something.

Famous Quotes

Being a wife and mother (as so many of us are)

I have heard myself say interesting things:

Lauren, pick the wedgie out of your butt for goodness sakes. If you're so hungry that your butt is eating your underwear, grab an apple.

Connor, Honey, Sweetie, Baby, could you save the whole peeing all over a parent thing for Daddy?

No Lauren, a poncho, a sweater and a pair of shorts with sandals doesn't match.

(Talking to my brother when Lauren is a month old) It's hard to believe that one day, this beautiful person is going to call me a bitch.

No honey, that's not a poop stain on my underwear.

What was that sweetie? Oh, it's because Mommy is a republican. Can you say RE-PUB-LI-CAN?

Charles (using last name)if you slap me on the ass and tell me "good game" one more time....we're going to have a problem.

Who knew my mom was so smart?

I would LOVE to take a nap.

Gitchie, Gitchie, GOO!

WOW! I've never heard anyone fart quite like that. (talking to Connor)

Um, Charles? Is this supposed to happen to baby boys? REALLY? Well uh...which way do I point it so it doesn't break off?

Go.....son......just..... AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (to prevent swearing in front of the kids)

I hate it when the dog humps the stuffed animals.

No, it's not a special occassion. Put that away.

I know you've got a couple. Come clean.

Mama! Mama.

"Mama! Mama. Mama"

I hear him from the computer room and I go to check on him. It's early morning, 2am and he's sick again.

I put my head in his room and find him in the darkness. His room lite only by his small night light and the light seeping in the the bathroom across the way. He's asleep on his tummy, knees tucked beneath him, his favorite sleeping position. He had been calling me in his sleep, like he always does when he's sick. He's a bit wrestless and I watch him for a moment.

He has kicked off his blanket. I debate the wisdom of covering him up. The slightest touch might wake him and he needs his sleep. I cover him anyway and he's immediately awake. He stands and stretches his arms up to me.

I pick him up and he rests his head on my shoulder, my right shoulder and lets the rest of his body go limp. I give him a snuggle and he's warm. Not just sleep warm, he's got a fever. I carry him to the kitchen and open the medicine cabinet and take his temperature. It's not bad, 100.1, but I take out the medicine anyway.

I'm concerned and worried. Connor hardly ever runs a fever, even when he's really sick. Is this a sign of bad things to come, or is this better, showing me that his body is fighting it? I can't decide and can feel my forehead crease in a frown.

I offer him Tylenol, cherry flavored. He tastes a bit, takes half and then shakes his head no. I offer again, he shakes his head no.

I sit on the floor, Indian style, and he sits on my calves. He loves doing that, it's like his personal baby chair, and wraps my arms around himself and leans back into me. I rock him for a minute, from side to side and give him kisses and snuggles. I decide to try again with the medicine and he shakes his head no. I try again and he shakes his head no.

"Okay sweetie, let's change your diaper and we'll try again in a minute."

We pass the drain board and he sees his favorite cup.

"Mama. Mama" he says pointing to it.

"Just a minute baby. Let's change your diaper first."

All fresh and clean, I return to the kitchen and fix him some cool water. He backs away from the cup like it's a viper. I can't for the life of me figure out why he doesn't like water. It's a rare drop that has ever passed his lips. I decide not to offer milk...not with his fever, that's just asking for trouble.

I offer the medicine again and he shakes his head no. I lean back slightly and sit on my haunches and put him on my knee. I offer again, he shakes his head no. I try soothing words and comforting sounds, but he shakes his head no.

"Sorry little man, but half isn't gonna do it. You have to take it all." I force the medicine dropper past his lips, squirt a little medicine in and he pushes it out with his tongue. I sigh, because I know what I have to do next. I tilt his head back, forcing him to stay that way and push the dropper pasts his lips. He swallows.

I wait for a moment to see if it's going to come back up. His gag reflex is very sensitive and this wouldn't be the first time I've worn his medicine. I look at him, he looks at me and rests his head on my shoulder. I wish Charles were awake. I hate forcing him to take his medicine. I'm always afraid that I'm going to choke him, or that he'll throw up, but he seems to be keeping it down okay.

I pick him up and he puts his head on my shoulder, my right shoulder this time and pats my arm.

"Night-night. Night-night"

"Yes baby. Night-night" I give him a little snuggle and rub his back and he goes limp.

We walk back to his room and I rock him and sing. I sing the ABC's, and This Little Light of Mine, and the Barney song. He squirms a bit and switches from shoulder to shoulder and I rub his back.

"Time for night-night" I whisper. I've rocked him for half an hour and he's not going to sleep.

"Night-night" he whispers back. I lay him down in his crib, on his tummy like he likes it, and he tucks his knees under him. I cover him up and tuck him in lightly and rub his back for a few seconds and tell him Night-night one more time.

He lifts his head to watch me leave the room and I expect him to cry. I wait for it while walking away, but there's no sound but him settling in and getting comfy.

I linger outside his door, just out of sight to listen to him, to make sure he's okay, and I hear him whisper "night-night" one more time and he's asleep.

Cleanin House - Changing Things

I preppin' the house for some long term guests to come and live.

Over the 8 years hubby and I have been married we've accumulated a lot of "stuff" and never really dealt with a lot of the paper stuff. We've just let it stack up and collect dust, squirreled away in boxes, boxes stacked in the backs and corners of closets.

When we moved in this new house, those boxes moved into my Den and have stayed there quite happily, never bothering anyone (except me when I walk by) with their peaceful and carpet protecting existence. Over time, they have gotten friends to keep them company. The bassinet that Connor grew out of, the Christmas ornaments and Christmas tree boxes (to make room in the closet in Connors room when he moved into his room), and any other sort of bit that your house collects and you just can't bring yourself to really go through and throw away.

Now that I have friends coming to stay for quite a while, they have to go. The Den needs to be cleared out so that we can have room for all 8 of us that will be living in my house, room for the furniture they'll be bringing for extra seating.

I have cleared out eight boxes so far and have found an old CD that I bought six years ago and could never find. I've gone thru and saved obscene amounts of military documents and have even put away old military uniforms that Charles wants to keep for some reason. I found all the old awards for Charles and I and he wants to put endless amounts of holes in our walls in the computer room to show them off (called a vanity wall - one for him, and one for me). I have found numerous stray pictures that have somehow not gotten into the photo box and I can't resist looking at them and feeling the memories and smiling at most of them.

I found the letters that Charles wrote to me while he was deployed to Albania, and the ones I wrote to him. I have found the frillies and sexies that I used to wear pre-babies and ker-trashed them. A ton of Lauren's pictures and papers from school and daycare and craft projects galore, most of them dated for saving. I found a love letter from an old boyfriend, the one and only man that really broke my heart - not even my ex-hubby did that - and I kept it too.

I found a couple of issues of my high school newspaper that I used to write for, my by-line proudly showing. I found a plethora of recipes and patterns for things I've always wanted to try, things I wanted to do. Old jewelry has surfaced, things that I had thought lost forever. Pictures we still haven't hung and decorate-y things that I don't want anymore.

I have given all the baby clothes that Connor has out grown to the daycare center that he goes to and have also given them his old bouncy chair/walker thingy. I gave his old baby swing to the director there, she just had her first grandbaby and carries a picture of her around in her pocket at all times.

In the mean time, school has started so I'm back to my hectic schedule of rush-rush home, play, cook, clean, check homework, take care of cats, take care of dog and do it all RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW I SAY!

Lauren has fallen into the old routine of giving me drama when I tell her to go take a bath and grumbles about having the earlier bedtime with no movies to watch at night.

Connor has moved out of the baby room on to the toddler room at daycare and I can't help but feel sad and happy and sad again. My last baby is growing up and it's going to fast.

Charles is still working hellish hours to make sure we stay caught up on the bills, getting home between 9-12 every night 4-5 days a week.

I'm feeling a bit melancholy - it's probably just the damn hormones.

Just Another Day In Paradise

MA MA! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!

I looked down and there was my cute little man, arms stretched high, wanting me to pick him up.

He's feeling kinda puny so I walk over and pick him up, give him a snuggle. He puts his head on my shoulder and pets my arm - like a dog.

He sits up, looks at me, and pukes warm, chunky, wetness down my front. It runs down my shirt, in my bra, down my stomach, down my legs and pools at my feet.

"Lauren honey, get me a towel NOW please. Connor just threw up." Connor starts to cry.

"What Mom?"

"Get me a towel please."

She brings me a dish cloth. "No honey, I need a towel." She runs over with a snow white, relatively new towel. "No Lauren, I need an old ragged towel, please hurry" Connor stops crying and puts his head on my shoulder, the one not covered in vomit, and pets my arm. "Ma Ma. MAMAMA" more arm petting and a kiss on my shoulder.

The smell of vomit is starting to get to me, and now the wet warmness is turning to wet coolness and I can feel chunks of something in my bra - and it has nothing at all to do with what God gave me to put in it. I was still in my work clothes - a new white shirt.

Lauren arrives with an old towel and runs like hell for the other side of the house holding her nose. I semi-spread out the towel on the floor and stand on it, at least we were in the kitchen and not on the carpet.

"Lauren, please, could you get me another one?"

A look of horror fills her face.

"Lauren, I need another towel please and I don't want to get this on the carpet. Please get me another towel." I'm starting to get upset. I'm the one that got thrown up on after all and she's horrified I want her to bring me another towel.

She comes back with another old towel, pinching her nose for all she's worth with her thumb and forefinger, the rest of her fingers are curled claw like and digging in her face. She's pinching her nose so hard, the tip has turned fire engine red, like she's trying to rip it off. I roll my eyes at her.

I put Connor down on the towel on the floor and strip him, laying his clothes beside him, throw the diaper away, and dry him off. He lets me know what he thinks of this idea by showing me his tonsils and testing the highest note he can hit. I strip as well, down to my birthday suit, some of the vomit had gotten on my underwear somehow and I gag. I dry off and bundle the clothes in the second towel, pick up Connor and head for the washing machine, leaving the other towel on the floor until I can scrub it.

Next I head for diaper station, no need to tempt fate for additional ickyness.

"Lauren, could you please unplug the fryer? I don't want the food to burn" I laid Connor down and he knows what I'm getting ready to do. He protests and it hurts my ears. I get a better view of his tonsils.

"Mom, you're naked"

"Yes Sweetie, I know. Please unplug the frier."

Lauren unplugs the frier and stands watching me. I wipe Connor down with a few hundred wipes, no time to give a bath now, I'm cooking dinner.

Freshly diapered, fresh long shirt, Connor is happy - for now. "Keep an eye on him please Sweets, I need to put some clothes on." She looks at me in that "Mom has lost her mind" kind of way - she's not used to seeing me stroll around the house naked and is scared that Connor will hurl on her. "He'll be fine Sweetie" I say, and hope it's true. I don't want to find out if Lauren is a sympathy puker tonight.

I go wash quickly in the sink, get dressed and head back out to the short people. Connor is sitting in the bean bag with Lauren reading him a book. I plug the frier back in. I hope the squash is okay. Fried squash is a pain in the ass to fix, it takes so long, I damn sure don't want to have to redo it.

Connor walks over to me and throws his juice cup at my feet. If I didn't know better, I would think he was offering me some. HA! He looks at me, he looks at the cup, he looks back at me. I can just see the words in his face "What the hell is taking so long mom? Fix me some juice already." He's so full of charm, even at this young age.

I give him some Pedialite, he's had loose stools all day. He throws the cup down at my feet again. I look at him, he looks at me, and goes back to Lauren with another book in his hand, leaving the pedialite at my feet. That boy is his daddy through and through. I wish he liked popcicles.

I put the chicken in the oven and get the vegetables ready for steaming and scrub the floor.

Charles arrives home just in time for dinner. I hand him the baby as soon as he walks in the door. "Please give him a bath, I need to shower and then we can eat."

Charles kisses me on top of the head and asks one of those questions that only smart people can "Bad day?" "Can't you tell by my freshness?" I say.

Baby all fresh and clean, Mommy all fresh and clean, we arrive in the living room together. Lauren is asleep on the couch.

"You know that you get to stay home with him tomorrow don't you." I say.

"Just another day in Paradise baby." he smirks.

Yeah, lets see if he says that when a diaper explodes and the baby pukes all at the same time. I'll make the appropriate noises over the phone, and hang up, glad that's not me.

Dear God,

Sometimes, you let really good things happen.

Like yesterday, when I went to CVS I found two really great books for Lauren. Journey to the Center of the Earth, and Around the World in 80 Days. They were only 2.99 a piece! I snatched them up and did a funny little dance. They were hiding behind one of those displays that hang from the aisle on those plastic doo-hickeys, on the bottom shelf. I just happened to drop my keys, bent to pick them up and something caught my eye. Hard backed with an illustration every few pages, I was taken back to the first time I had ever read them. I hugged them close and grinned at the cashier as she tucked them in crinkly plastic bag and pushed them towards me.

After I picked up Lauren, I showed them to her and teased her just a little bit. I made airplane noises and pretended they were flying over her head while she jumped for them. "Sorry" I said "These two books are only for people who really love to read...only for people who love a good story about adventure. I wonder who I'll give them to hummmmm?" She almost tackled me. She has devoured several pages of Journey to the Center of the Earth already. "I'm going to leave these in the car mom, right here, beside my seat, so I can read some every afternoon and every morning." So that's where they live now,in my console, eagerly awaiting her return, so that she may discover the treasures inside.

Thank you for giving her the love of reading. Thank you for giving her the imagination to enjoy them. Thank you for my daughter, she's my angel.

My mother is now living in Montana. She and her husband have been dreaming of finally being able to live there for many years, and you finally made that happen. I miss them but she's happy, so it's okay. I get to talk to her all the time. What's even better is that she has now got a camera phone so I can send her pictures of my short people all the time. Last night I sent her 2 showing Connor slinging food from here to there and my Lauren looking beautiful and sweeter than sugar.

Charles got that nice raise and now, all of our medical bills are paid off. We no longer have to worry about bankruptcy. I don't pace the floor at night any more, and cry in the shower where no one can hear me. I don't squish my kids in extra hard hugs because I feel guilty for not doing better by them. I squish them extra hard because I love them and treasure them.

We will finally get to take the kids places instead of just being homebound - not even being able to afford gas for free activities. I'll be able to take Lauren shopping for school clothes instead of just a shirt or pants and shoes here and there, skipping enough lunches and saving every single penny to save up for them. I don't have to worry anymore if I need to take Connor to the Dr, if I have enough money to cover the co-pay in the bank, and how I'm going to afford the prescriptions that he always gets. I don't have to worry about the electricity being shut off and people taking me to court. I don't have to worry how I'm going to afford a new car battery if the one I have now suddenly dies. I don't have to worry about making the tank of gas I have streeeeetch as long as possible because we don't have the money for any more, I can turn on the AC and not feel guilty.

I'm still deeply in love with my husband. I love him more and better than I ever have. We are constantly re-discovering each other and spend countless hours depriving ourselves of much needed sleep talking and joking like teenagers. We talk of important things and issues in the world and sometimes, we talk about nothing at all and fall asleep at night holding each other.

Thank you for sending him my way. Thank you for sending me a man that loves me for my intellect, my spirit, my sense of fun. Thank you for sending me a man with a sense of humor, who is capable of such sweet, fierce love and believes his word is his bond. Thank you for sending me a man that respects me, my opinions and decisions.

Thank you for sending me a MAN.

Connor is doing so great! I never drempt that he would be doing this well after he was so sick for so long. Even now, he has dual ear infections, but I can't tell. He's not cranky, or fussy. There's no fever, no loss of appetite or pulling of the little ears. He's happy. He giggles and likes to face dive into the bean bag and baby wrestles with his daddy. He gives such sweet drooly kisses and when he hugs me, he squishes his whole baby sized body against me and snuggles into my neck. He pats my arm and makes adorable baby noises and it makes me feel like I couldn't possible take another breath and have it better than the one I was holding right at that moment, only to find that it is better, that it is some how sweeter and more life giving.

I couldn't even imagine this a year ago.

Thank you for my son.

Thank you for being there with me though all those really tough times. When I was in the shower, the washcloth pressed firmly to my mouth, tears mingling with the spray. When I hit my knees, for the first time ever, when Connor was going in for surgery, not even 2 months old. How I screamed and prayed and shouted in anger at you when he would stop breathing, getting ready to do CPR on my infant son, who we had tried for so many years to have, who I was was watching slip away in front of me. When Lauren was 8 months and then again at 2 and she was soo, sooo, sick and I didn't know what to do. When things between Charles and I got so ugly, I packed his bags for him and told him he either needed to get himself together, or get out, all the while I felt my heart had been ripped from my body and I was bleeding freely, leaving a big pool of love on the floor. How he hugged me, and held me and took his suitcase back in the bedroom and we talked for hours and slowly got ourselves back together and things have been wonderful ever since, even after all this time.

Thank you for all you have done, because I realize that while life doles out challenges to us all..to me and mine...you have been beside me, and in me, and I was never alone.

Thank you.

Yawn

I'm not a movie goer but I went with Lauren today to the movies. We had hoped to see Garfield 2 but no such luck.

Instead, we saw Barnyard. Yes BARNYARD.

This would have been a great movie if I was 2. Alas, I am 32 and it just didn't do it for me. I fell asleep in the movie theatre. Yes, I fell asleep. I'm not exactly the type you want to take to the movies unless there's explosions and shit, especially if the movie we go to includes cartoon animated cows with thumbs. Yes, that's right cows with THUMBS.

After the movie, Lauren and I went and got school supplies and I bought a new hairdryer and then we came home, where I again, went to sleep. (sad isn't it, that I can still be worn out and still think about my hair)

I even slept in this morning. I didn't wake up until 11! I never sleep that late. The latest I can pull off is 8am and then I just feel drained because I slept so long, but today, I slept until 11, cat napped in the movie theatre and went directly to bed when we got home.

I woke up at midnight and was greeted with the scariest kitchen ever. Seems hubby had a hard time holding it together watching little man all day, then having both kids while I was sleeping, and to top it all off, he had to cook dinner too. My kitchen looks like hell detoured thru it. The microwave looks like something exploded in it and I'm considering just throwing the damn thing away instead of having to actually clean it. We don't have a power tool that is that heavy duty.

I'm scared to go back in there. There's empty soda cans, plastic wrapping from something or other, wads of paper towel, dirty pots stacked 3 high and the floor looks like someone dropped some green beans and did the river dance on top of 'em. I'm not even going to talk about how the trash can...never mind.

The living room doesn't look much better. The only thing I can say for it - there doesn't seem to be any green beans on the floor - but everything else is. It would appear that Charles couldn't muster the energy to tidy up in there. Toys are strown from here to there and two of the blinds have broken slats - baby head high. I'm guessing that Little Man wanted to look out the window - what do you think?

The Laundry Room smells funny. I don't know what happened, I'm not going to ask cause I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. I'll just wash whatever that is in the laundry basket and shut up about it. I'm pretty sure though, that I didn't wear that shirt that's sitting on top of the washing machine today and now there's a big pink stain on it. I have no idea what that is. It's kind-a scary to be honest because I can't think of a thing that we have in the house that would leave a big PINK stain. It doesn't look like washed out blood.

The dining room. OY. The most I can say for it is that it's still there - and so are all the school supplies I bought. Tablets and pencils and crayons and glue and new book bag all over everywhere. I can't see the top of the table - and it's not because I'm blind - though, I'm wishing I was at the moment.

The dog won't seem to leave me alone. He keeps pawing at my leg and whining. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was scared of something.

The cats have all been giving me accusitory looks and I'm not quite sure what I did. Maybe they think that they are the only ones who should get that much sleep in one day. I dunno. But I'm watching them, AND my ankles just in case.

I've peaked in on the baby, and he seems to have all his body parts and isn't covered in poo and/or vomit and smells like he had a bath. I haven't gone into his bathroom yet because I'm scared what I might find.

Lauren is sleeping peacefully - TV blaring at full volume and candy wrappers on her floor. It's painfully obvious, from when I went to kiss her cheek, that daddy didn't make her brush her teeth before going to bed. I'll shut up about that too though, because she seems to have had a bath - I think.

Charles is asleep in the recliner in a position that looks like someone knocked him out cold and he just happened to land on the recliner. There are dark circles under his eyes and drool is dribbling down his chin. Yeah, he's sexy.

Me? I'm hiding in the computer room, delaying the inevitable of cleaning up. I'm using the excuse that it's late - or early - and I don't want to wake anyone up. Yeah, I don't want to wake anyone up. That's my story. I'm using that one.

And You You Wonder Why I Am The Way I Am

An especially endowed lady client leaves the office...

Nikki - Jim! OMG! Did you see that lady? She has obviously had those things done.

Jim - Why do you think that?

Nikki - Because no bra in the world pushes your boobs up until they touch your chin.

Jim - Well, that's okay with me. I enjoy artifically flavored food.

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A conversation between hubby and I, after he refused to see reason...

Nikki - Alright! This is the part where I pluck you in the ding-ding.

Charles - This is the part where I pluck you in the ovary.

Nikki - Oh! (covering abdomen) YOU'RE GOING TO PLUCK ME IN THE OVARIES?

Charles - What was I supposed to say? That I'm going to pluck you in the clitoris?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Charles talks to Connor while he's whippin up dinner. Charles says "I'm gonna teach you how to cook little man. All the ladies will love you and want to keep you around...

Nikki - You know the only reason I keep you around is because you're a good cook.

Charles - You know the only reason I keep you around is because you have big boobs.

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On my birthday, the office threw me a little party. They got me a cake and they all signed a card.

There are 4 other people that work in my office, one person signed Happy Bithday Nikki, another signed Happy 21st Birthday Again, one simply signed his name, JIM however, lovingly signed

Happy Birthday Bitch.

No one has seen him since.

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Riding down a back road and I read a street sign incorrectly...

Nikki - Well, don't I just feel stupid!

Charles - Stupid...ER

CAUTION - Bitching Ahead

Super Baby is sick. Sigh. It started out with Pink Eye. Went to the Dr., walked out with a prescription for eye drops. He says "He can go back tomorrow. These eye drops will fix him right up." EXCELLENT! I called the boss man, told him I'd be in tomorrow. This was Tuesday afternoon. I haven't been back to work yet. (incidentally, I stayed home on Monday because I felt like regurgitate crap) That means I've been to work a grand total of a half of a day this entire week. (did I ever mention how much I despise staying at home?)

I called daycare on Wed morning to let them know he would be coming in that day equipped with a Dr's note saying it was alright. "Does he still have discharge coming from his eye?" "It's just a bit watery. It's from the eye drops." "I'm sorry Nikki, but he can't come back until his eye has stopped watering." "But I have a Dr's note." "I'm sorry Nikki, we just want to make sure that the other kids won't catch it." Well damn. I understand their concern, but honestly, I have a friggin Dr's note. So I stay at home with him, and we both nap A LOT but he seems fine and I'm happy that he's letting me nap because I feel SO MUCH BETTER with all the sleep I'm getting. Later that night, I have a surprise waiting for me when I pick him up from his evening nap.

A cranky, squirmy, feverish, coughing, sneezing, mucus producing little baby. Okay, little dude caught my cold that explains why he was so happy to nap. Poor little guy. I give him lovies and sing to him and cuddle him and give him lots of kisses and it'll be okays. I feed him and he eats great. He takes medicine A OK and I put him down for the night.

My thoughts? Lets see how he is in the morning, maybe I'll get lucky and can go to work. I get up in the middle of the night, fever is down but he's sleeping a bit restlessly, I check him again at about 3 am, stuffy little nose, fever is back up. I wake him up and give him medicine and we sit in the recliner and watch TV for about an hour until he finally goes back to sleep and I fall asleep with him, both of us there in the recliner cuddling. I wake up at 7am, with a screaming baby and vomit all over me, the recliner and the carpet. (did I ever mention how much I despise staying at home?) If I may quote one of my favorite blogs - OH THE JOYS.

I clean everything and everybody up and catch hubby on the way out the door. "Can't you stay with him today? I NEED to go to work. I don't want to get fired for pete's sake." "I can't, I'm teaching assistant in a class today." "You're teaching a class? Since when?" "Since the other teachers assistant called in sick. I've been trying to get this gig for a while." FUCK. "Charles, I love you, and I'm glad you got this position BUT I NEED TO GO TO WORK. When you go in today, tell them you can't make it in tomorrow BECAUSE I NEED TO GO TO WORK." "I'm off tomorrow." "Works out well for you then doesn't it" (yeah, I was a bit cranky and this would fall under the heading of bitchyness)

I call boss man - I can't come in, Super Kid is vomiting - he has his daughter take a message. WONDERFUL - that means he's not happy. I mean really, if you were him wouldn't you be a bit pissed? If I was the boss, I know I'd be a more than a little bit frustrated, but, what can I do?

So here I am, it's noon and I have just managed to take a shower after stinking of vomit, clorox and carpet shampoo. Little dude is napping and is keeping everything down just fine. His fever just broke so he should be fine tomorrow when daddy stays home with him.

Why does it always work out like that? Why does he always get to play and goof around and never have to deal with cranky stinky vomiting baby?

I ask you - Where is the justice?

HE'S GOT A TOOTH!

Connor is 1 yr, 2 months and 11 days, and he has finally cut his first tooth.

FINALLY!

HURRAY!

I was starting to consider baby dentures.

It Happens To The Best Of Us

Let me set the scene for you.

It was HELL FIRE Hot outside, and so humid you immediately became sticky when you stuck your head out the door. One 8 year old about to bounce out of her skin to go to a BBQ, a 1 year old that is not happy unless you are holding him or playing with him - but preferably playing with him while you are holding him, I'm trying to do house work, dog following me around the house and tripping me up when I turn around, cats hissing at dog following me around from their lofts on the window sills.

I'm trying to move from one room to the other with a strange squirmy growth on my leg - MY SON as he clings and whines and headbangs my kneecap. I'm trying to loose myself in the 80's music I've got on, but keep hearing something fly by my ear - MY DAUGHTER as she runs from room to room talking faster than the speed of light about what she's going to do, what she should wear and blah blah blah
AND I HAVEN'T HAD A CIGARETTE FOR 3 HOURS.

Can you say grumpy? How bout bitchy? How bout foul, evil, loathsome or crabby.

Fast forward 2 hours later, we're in the car, baby screaming in back seat, daughter bemoaning the fact that I wouldn't put make-up on her so she could dress up for the BBQ, how she wanted a red ponytail holder and not the white one...

BE QUIET! EVERYBODY JUST BE QUIET! MOMMY NEEDS A CIGARETTE! MOMMY NEEDS A CIGARETTE RIGHT NOW! CHILL OUT! JUST CHILL OUT! CHILL OUT UNITL I'VE HAD MY CIGARETTE.

Instantaneous quiet.

A few miles down the road after mommy has chain smoked 3 cigarettes and is working on her fourth, a commercial comes on the radio where a bunch of little kids saying "I want my mommy! I want my mommy!"

Lauren promptly responded "You can have mine."

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Hey Puss! I know you read me, Her Majesty told me. Wanted to tell you Hi and I love you.