'Nuff Said

Holy Bats and Balls Batman, Did You Watch That Game?

Oh my, I still can't sleep! If you didn't watch it, I hope the recovery from the coma goes well. And I hope you had your DVR set up prior.

I have a confession. I was totally put out after the top of the 10th when my Tigers couldn't capitalize on the bases loaded and one out. I thought it was over and proceeded to fold a load of laundry. Totally off subject, but does that stuff ever stop? Anyway, I was thinking they just didn't seem to want it enough. But then it all came together. Whew! One down and one to go!! Way to go, boys.

I think we'll be eating some steaks while watching game two. Beef steaks. Longhorn beef, maybe? Ya got that, dear brother-in-law?

Hmmm, do you eat Longhorn or just laugh at them for looking so funny?

The Preparations are Under Way

Let me first provide you with some answers before proceeding. No, we do not know where he gets this stuff. To address the obvious, but unspoken assumption: No, we do not speak like this to each other so he did not get it from us.

Now that that's out of the way, on with why I'm making preparations, and what I am preparing for.


During the really dark times of M's regression I wondered if he'd ever develop the ability to verbally communicate his needs, wants, desires, intentions, etc. That wondering disappeared over the course of the last year...and boy did it disappear!!


He communicates his intentions quite clearly now.

Last week as I was dressing the little guy he smiled at me and said, "Butt." Just one word. And a big smile. It communicated all he needed to at the moment, and was intended to get a strong reaction.


I thought it best to ignore it. Next came "Butt. Butt. Butt." I still didn't bite. Finally after he was dressed and, I suppose able to adequately run from me, came the biggest challenge. "Buttbuttbuttbuttbuttbutt" while running around his room smiling. I'd let him win this round by not taking him on. I walked away thinking I was being a good mom by not reacting.


Not so.

Later as I was resting on the couch the following transpired:

M, walking up to me: I like to kick butts.

Me, thinking WHAT DID HE SAY?!?!: What did you say?

M, the smile is getting bigger: I like kickin' people's butts.

Me: Why do you say that?

M: It's fun to kick butts.

Me, trying not to explode in laughter and shock: You shouldn't say that. It's not nice.


M, eyes sparkling because he now has the upper hand, leans forward and points his crooked chubby little finger at me: I'm gonna to kick some butt...and I'm startin' wif you.

Me, oh never mind, I wasn't able to say anything. I was hyperventilating from the laughter I was unable to hold in any longer. He won round two, but the match wasn't over. I sought to compose myself while he ran around the room dancing.


Round three was beginning.

For his next move M pauses the dancing-running thing he's doing, looks over at me, points his two index fingers at me and pumps his hands back and forth. "Preeeepaaaarrrrre for ya butt-kickin'!"

The match is over and I've thrown in the towel. Let me again say we do NOT speak like this to each other at our home and I do NOT know where he comes up with these things. Promise.


But I'm preparing for my upcoming butt kicking with a sense of humor and a sense of dread.

Meet Nelson

This is Nelson. He's a member of our family. Unfortunately he's not the real Nelson. D and I were sincerely hoping he'd stand in for the real one. Apparently our brilliant idea of a pretend Nelson didn't work.

I know you're now thinking, "She's finally flipped her lid--we knew it would happen one day." I'm okay though. I did drop a lid this morning but I haven't flipped one yet. I do need to elaborate so you have an idea of who the real Nelson and who the substitute Nelson are.

This past Christmas we had the fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you look at it) of meeting a cat named Nelson. A few short days before Christmas we took the boys to the pet store to buy gifts for SissyDawg. As is the case with most people, we took a walk by the animals available for adoption. Mistake. Big Mistake.

M locked eyes with a very cute black cat named Nelson. The infatuation was reciprocal. M wanted to know everything he possibly could about the cat, and their eyes followed each other from one side of the store to the other. It was sweet, in a disturbing stalker-ish way. We visited Nelson several times that evening before leaving the store and leaving Nelson behind. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Not hardly.

The next morning I asked M what he wanted to do that day. He was very specific in his request: "I want to go back to the Dog Store and get that Nelson cat." This went on several times a day for several days, with increasingly pleading doe eyes. It didn't look good for getting out of this one, even with the long and detailed explanation of how Nelson would make him itch. We even had papers from the doctor to prove it. He still wasn't buying into that excuse.

Santa came up with the brilliant idea that Nelson moved to the computer and M could play with him via the Nelson Webkinz. It seemed to work. The Nelson/M connection was there, not as strong, but seemed to be there and it was especially fun for him to take care of Nelson on the computer. I had a false sense of security that Nelson was now and forever a stuffed cat, never a live one in his memory.


Fast forward to two days ago. A conversation takes place. It goes this way:

M, crawling sweetly into my lap: Do you want a pet, Mommy?

Me: I sure do. Will you be my pet?

M: No, I not a pet. I want a kitty.

Me, playing along: What is a kitty? And how do we get a kitty?

M: First we go to the Dog Store. Then we pick out a kitty. His name is Nelson and I want him.

Me, trying to keep a straight face: You can't have a kitty. They make you itch.

M, still not buying the itch excuse: I want to go to the Dog Store and get that Nelson cat!!!

That last bold phrase has been repeated multiple times since. The child has a memory like a steel trap. Unfortunately.






I wll not give in...I will not give in...I will not give in...I will not give in...

You Should See the Other Guy

Really, surprisingly, the Other Guy (also known as N) is none the worse for wear. At least after that scuffle.


But J did learn a good vocabulary lesson. He now knows very well the meaning of the words "instigate" and "antagonize." Actually, they both know since they both were equal starters and participants in this battle. But I was the finisher!

Boys. I just can't figure out what makes them start wailing on one another for no apparent reason. From my untrained eyes there appears no obvious provocation. I must be wrong though, since it seems merely walking by one another is enough to evoke attack instincts. Lions should be lucky enough to have such great reflexes.

As part of the "what makes you go 'duh' today" moment, I present to you the fact that we are paying good money to have someone teach them to smack others. And do it well. Effectively and efficiently even. Go figure.

They do tend to get along better than most siblings I know. They have their moments, but for the most part they are best buds. As I was explaining to J two mornings ago, he has only two brothers. (Trust me when I say there will be no more.) He'd better think about treating them better to keep them around longer. If you were sitting near a window relaxing and enjoying your coffee Memorial Day morning, I'm sorry his extremely loud maniacal laughter and dancing disturbed your peace.

My Large Mirror

I'm trying to move to a more minimal lifestyle. The old materialistic, have-to-have-lots, accumulation days have given way to the one-more-stupid-thing-to-dust days.

I have a beautiful full-length cheval mirror. I don't use it much because I really don't do the head to toe, dress to impress thing that often. It's mostly a toy for the Babiest to push back and forth while making dents in the wall. I've been thinking of either sending it away or at least moving it to the attic for a while to see if I really miss it.

This morning my perspective changed when I received this in a forwarded email. Look closely at an area that will get you slapped for looking at in real life. It's hard to see in the smaller image here. I don't know who took the large smiley face photo in order to offer credit, but it does give one pause for thought doesn't it? I think I will just put up with the dents in the wall in order the have the security of not making such wardrobe errors. Then again, the fact that I wouldn't be caught dead in something even remotely resembling the foundation garment in the picture does give me a bit of emotional security.

And it makes me miss the by-gone days of slips. Boy I'm old!!

Sissy's New Pet

Sissy has a very obnoxious way of telling us something isn't right in her world. We call it her "snake bark." She's identified many snakes so we feel confident with the name. Yesterday morning came a bark that can only be identified as a not-quite-a-snake bark. Close, but not the same thing.

The boys wouldn't let me investigate without proper protective measures. I grabbed a spatula (plastic, of course, since the stainless steel one was in the dishwasher) and took off to the backyard.

Here's what we found.



He's a cute little guy, about 8 inches long and apparently very scared. We put the not-so-bright one in her box inside so the new pet could get away in peace. It took the opportunity and moved. They really have a bum rep with the slow thing...this one could move! It moved toward the fence and must have finally got out.

Then again, I'm hearing a something is not quite right bark right now. Maybe he's back for a playdate. If he is then perhaps they should be known as not-so-bright animals instead of very, very slow animals. Sissy will share the title.