The Cutest Blog on the Block

Monday, March 26, 2007

Finals Week




There is something about a male that is wearing a grey sweat suit and has bed-head. It means one of two things.
1. This Male is a college student in the middle of finals and has gotten about three hours of sleep the past week.
2. This male has simply given up on life. He just doesn't care.

Either way, it is a cry for help.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Lost - March 11th, 2007

This week Christian lost his first tooth, Porter lost his lunch, I lost my baby and Glenn won a “major award”.

Christian’s tooth has been loose for about a month. When it first got even a slight wiggle he was paranoid that it would fall out any minute. I had to explain that it wouldn’t fall out until it was hanging by one thread. Well, he soon learned that sometimes when he would eat it would bleed and hurt. He cried until I told him that he was just breaking treads. He took courage and began eating through the pain. After each apinful stab, he would ask how many threads I thought were left. The end of the story ends like this. Christian comes walking over to me while eating a hot dog bun. “How many threads are there now?” GASP. "It’s gone!" He then starts looking all around him. “It’s gone!” He is about to panic and me too. We can’t have lost his first tooth; he’s been talking daily of this event. Did he swallow it? Turns out it was wedged into the hot dog bun. All is dandy again.

Porter got some stomach bug while my parents were visiting while Glenn was out of town this last week. He lay on the kitchen floor. We didn’t know he was sick until he started drooling – those who have been there before know that is not a good sign. “Porter are you okay?” “No.” He answers and then there was his meal. ‘Nough said. He was fine the rest of the night, but the next day said his tummy hurt again. I gave him a bowl and since it was nap time sent him to bed. We had extensively practiced leaning over the bowl - leave nothing to chance when it comes to something of this nature. He was set. I left him. Minutes later I heard his cries. I sprinted to the rescue. I can't explain how proud I was that my three year old made it into the bowl. He remembered the drills. Unfortunately, he had place the small monster trucks he had purchased at the dollar store into his bowl. He realized this dilemma after he had filled the bowl. "Yuck!" He yelled as he chucked two fully loaded trucks (you know what I mean) across the room. Glenn was right, if I had told him not to throw the trucks he had thrown up on then he wouldn't have done it. I can only blame myself.  Next time we'll practice throwing up in the bowl and not throwing anything that has throw up on it.  Not sure why I didn't think of that sooner.

I experienced a moment this week that every mother inevitably experiences. I was looking at my baby, Warrick, when I realized, with a little slap, that he is not a baby anymore. He is a toddler. It is a little sad, but of course I wouldn't have it any other way.

Glenn has been in St. Louis this past week getting more company training. At the end of the week there was a presentation competition that my dear hubby won. It was a big deal, complete with an acceptance speech and a large trophy. The boys stare at the shiny metal from his office door and usher their friends by to prove that their dad can beat up their dad.

Things are warming up and that is great news as this winter has seemed rather long, cold and cooped up. Our basement is slowly coming along and I finally have my computer in a place that I can use it more often so that means I can write more often. :)