Mini-Me's Mouth

When I say "Mini-Me" here, I'm referring to the Boy Me, not the Girl Me. Really, everyone has so many different opinions about which child looks like me or like Ike that I've solved it like this: the one being cuter at the time is mine.

So, Jake (mine for the time being) has started saying these things that sound familiar. Weirdly familiar, like he's talking out of the voices from my head. Oh wait, I think it's because he sounds JUST LIKE ME.

Yesterday while dropping a friend off after karate, I got out of the car to walk Friend to the door and talk to Friend's Mom. I left the air on and could see the car, I didn't go inside the house, I talked to her for maybe 2 minutes. When I got back to the car, Jake said, "Finally, you're back!" I asked if I took too long and he said, "It's hot and I'm only burning to death here."

Is that little Mini-Me hyperbole I hear from the backseat??

So then a few minutes ago, I said something to Jake that he either didn't hear or (more likely because it was about cleaning his room) that he didn't want to hear. He came back to me and said, "Pardon me?" with an attitude like... oh. Like me.

I choose to ignore it. These things will make him so darn witty someday...

She did it!

Annie peed in the potty last night!!! A friend loaned us her daughter's small potty yesterday (yes, she cleaned it and I cleaned it again). When Annie saw it in our bathroom, her eyes got very big and she said, "Potty?? Potty!!" So at bath time, which is when she's been sitting on the big toilet, I let her sit on her new potty while she read her potty books (borrowed from her other friend).

Soon we heard the tinkling and her eyes got big again. "I did it!" She clapped her hands, stood up...and tried to step into the potty bowl...

Oh well, we're getting there. I'm proud of her, but I feel a little guilty. I mean, last night Ike peed in the big potty all by himself, and I didn't praise him at all.

But I guess he is 33...

Can we press pause on this adreneline rush, please?

We've had an exhausting week here at the Quigley household. I'm just about ready to lock the doors, close the blinds and keep out the world. Of course, with Annie's daredevil instincts, I'd probably have to tie her up to keep her safe...

So, where to start? First, Tuesday we got some (potentially) good news about which I'm not yet allowed to talk. No, it doesn't involve anything like pregnancy--that would not be good news for us. :) Let me say, though, that it has the potential of being something wonderful for our family, so I can't wait to see how it all unfolds.

So that was Tuesday. Last night (Wednesday), while I was getting ready for bed, Jake got out of bed, came into the bathroom to see me, and said, "I just have to check out something that hurts." He drops his pants, and there is a strange...thing...on his penis. (Is this TMI? I have to share this to get to the funny part.) I call Ike in, and between the two of us we determine that it's something very weird and NOT GOOD. What we decide after a conversation with Granny (a nurse practitioner who deals with more of our health questions than anyone else has to) and a lot of internet research is that it's a staph infection caused by our nasty bathtub.

Okay, that's what I decided. Ike kept insisting that even if it was an infection, our bathtub didn't cause it. But I knew differently. I started cleaning. More than ever before. The bleach smell is deadly even this afternoon. But it's clean and will never be dirty again. (By the way, in case anyone is taking this seriously, no, our tub wasn't THAT bad. But now I think you could eat off of it.)

First thing this morning I called Dr. Sumner's office for an appointment. "Yes, my son has a strange growth on his penis. Yes this is the same little boy who slammed said penis with a toilet lid at the age of 3. And yes, he's the one who kicked a mirror until it fell and broke his toe. Yes, that one."

We went in to see a different doctor, whom we'd never met. He said (seriously), "Well, this will be interesting. Certainly breaks up the monotony of the day."

That's what we're here for, doc: your entertainment needs.

The doctor took one look at this growth, reached down...and pulled it off. Jake said, "OWW! Oh, I'm glad that's off." This was my first clue. Infections and lesions do not just pull off.

Let me point out right now that even the doctor didn't know what it was. He muttered that he didn't think it was a tick, but he wanted to put it under the microscope just in case. Now I've had conversations with some of you about ticks, so you may know that I'm more afraid of ticks than snakes, tornadoes, the boogeyman...anything. So this was my new big fear: my son has Lyme disease.

When the doctor came back, he reported the news: "It's a booger."

I'm sorry, what?

"A booger."

But he said it hurt.

"Yes, it must have been stuck on pretty well. You know, they are gelatinous."

Yuck. So that was our first trauma of the day, averted. On to Trauma 2.

Since Jake was healthy with no diseases after all, I decided to work on clogging his arteries (to give him something to worry about when he's middle-aged). We went to McDonalds. In the drive thru line, just as I was ordering, Jake started saying, "Um, Mom? A little help here? Mom, I need your help."

I'm a saintly, patient mother, so I said, "Jake! Not now, don't you see I'm ordering??"

It was only when I got to the first window that I looked back and saw the problem. Jake had his seatbelt wrapped around his neck. He said he'd wanted to try to make a necklace...

Again, I'm a saintly, patient, kind mother who handles anything with grace and understanding, so I said, "Jake! What are you doing? What were you thinking? Well, I can't help you with that until we get through the drive thru!"

At the second window, the woman handing me my food said, "He's choking hisself."

I know, McDonalds Window Lady. And it's himself.

I parked the car, got out to help Jake...and then started to panic. Jake had pulled the seatbelt all the way out to loosen it to put it around his neck (he'd unbuckled it at this point, too), then when he let go of it, the belt "locked" and could not be loosened again. In other words, it was as tight as it could get. He wasn't choking, but the loop wasn't big enough for his head to fit through.

I called Ike (who left the movie set to join us because as he said, it's pretty hard to just sit there and wonder if your son is choking), then called 911. Two officers came to help us. They worked on him for what felt like 30 minutes and had almost decided to cut the belt (even had their multi-tool out to do so), when they found construction workers eating at McDonalds. They borrowed wrenches from those guys and unscrewed the bolt at the top of the belt.

Jake slipped out with just a few red marks on his neck as a reminder of what happened. The officers gave him a teddy bear (now named, "Officer Bear") and turned on their blue lights for Jake to see. They lectured him on not doing that again, but really? I don't think he'll even try...

On top of all of this, I found out this morning that a good friend of mine was in a wreck last night and her car was totaled. She just happened to not have her kids in the car with her, otherwise, they probably wouldn't have survived.

It's all just a little too much this week. But hey, at least my son doesn't have skin cancer or something...

Okay, there was a video when Ike watched it

Last night Ike and I watched a video of the movie he's currently shooting in Randolph County. This morning when I got online to post it, I could only find this article. Perhaps someone who understands Internet Voodoo could help me here? Or maybe the video's just gone. Oh well, at least there's the article...

But wait! I've been saved by Fox 8 News, which has an even better video. Better because it has a great shot of Ike. :) Here's the link.

So there's an answer to everyone who has been asking about Ike. He's stuck in the woods in Randolph County. With Matt Moore no less...

Jake: Leading a New Generation of Feminists

Our conversation on the way home from Mad Science Camp:

Jake: Some girls don't like boys.

Me: True.

Jake: Some boys don't like girls.

Me: Yes, that's true, too.

Jake: But girls can do anything boys can do, you know.

Me: Yes, I do know, and you are quite right.

Jake: And they can even do it in high heels.*

Ann Richards is smiling down on my son right now.

*I should note that he learned this from The Suite Life of Zach & Cody on Disney Channel. Now way up there on our approved shows to watch.

Too. Early. For. This.

Jake got Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2 from Netflix yesterday. Imagine my pain and suffering upon walking into the living room this morning and seeing Vanilla Ice on my television screen.

Could someone please pass the coffee for my headache and a hot poker for my eyes?

By the way, the movie synopsis on Internet Movie Database for TMNT2 reads, "This plot synopsis is empty." After watching a minute or two, yes, I can see why it would be...

I suppose I should be grateful it's not mice...

I keep repeating this to myself, every time I squash another ant. My (NEW) sister-in-law is having a problem with mice, which shows that she's a braver, stronger person than me. For me a problem with mice would be a real estate problem: we have to find a new house immediately.

As it is, my problem is ants. My problems are ants? Whatever is correct, that's the case. We only have problems with ants right after Orkin comes to spray for ants. I understand that what they spray is supposed to bring out the nasty things for a day or two until they eat it, take it home to feed their families and all die in their nasty anthill living rooms. But the Orkin man came two (three?) weeks ago now. The ants are still here.

When I called Orkin about it a week ago, I got this response, "Well, I'll call him [our bug guy] and see if he can come out today." Okay, but this is a week later. And it's bad when my daughter points to the kitchen and says, "Bug! Bug! Bug!" And it's bad that when she does that, I fully expect to see a giant ant staring back at us.

In reality, she just wanted to play with the ladybug magnet on our refrigerator. Regardless, I'm canceling our account with Orkin and buying my own bug spray. At least I know I'll show up.

A few pictures from birthday party #1

Jake will be having a party with friends next month, but here are a few pictures from today at the party at Granny & Papa's house. Thanks for the pictures, Jane!

Jake & Daddy hanging out on the porch...


Jake saying hi. Or perhaps saying, "Peace Be With You."


Annie at her brother's party.


Uncle Billy and Cooper.

C'mon, a little fear is cute!

I'll admit it. I love it when Annie is scared. I mean, I don't make her watch Nightmare On Elm Street or take her to haunted houses or anything. I don't do psychologically damaging things like leave her on a street corner and drive away...just to see what she'll do. (Wow, but it scares me a little that I thought of that!)

But these days when she's going through a bit of separation anxiety and someone else wants to hold her, she clings to me like she's being kidnapped. Her chubby arms wrap around my neck and her little fingers grasp my skin like I'm her life preserver.

Yesterday Jake received a remote control truck from a friend for his birthday. This morning Annie found it abandoned (temporarily) in the office/playroom/don't-go-in-there-you'll-never-make-it-out room and decided to push the buttons. When the truck started "revving" and vibrating, Annie backed away quickly and clambered into my lap. She squeezed my rib cage and laid her sweet head on my chest. She sat there for a few minutes, one pointer finger at her lips (in typical Annie pose), as if to say, "All is right with the world, I have Mommy to protect me."

And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons I love having children.

Mommy, where do conversations come from??

So the birthday boy has begun to feel better. When Ike and I replayed everything he's eaten this week, suddenly his sickness this morning began to make sense... We vetoed his lunch suggestion (McDonalds) in favor of something a little more healthy (K&W).

After his recovery and lunch, we headed out to the park to ride his new bike and to Toys R Us to spend a gift certificate. On the way home, this is what Jake said...

"Mom, when I was in your tummy, did you spew food all over me when you ate?"

"Uhh...what?"

Ike then explained that babies don't actually grow in their mommies' tummies, they grow in the uterus (see, I would've just said, "No, honey, I didn't spew food on you because I used my napkin," or something).

Jake apparently likes the word "uterus." Because he decided he'd become a uterus. He put his arms up over his head (I suppose to make himself the shape of a uterus) and started singing a new song called, "I'm A Uterus."

Here's how the song goes:
"I'm a uterus!
I'm a uterus!
I am a uterus!
I'm a uterus!"

The things you never think you'll hear your child say...

Sick at Six

Well, I know Jake's not feeling well if he turns down a celebratory birthday donut. Thanks to Aunt Jane, who sent me this last night. Jake, Annie and I headed to Krispy Kreme for a free dozen donuts, plus a coffee and a sprinkle donut for Jake's birthday. Jake took one teeny little bite (he says he took a bite, but I can't see it, actually), then said it tasted gross. He's been lying on the couch on his stomach all morning and saying that it's not fair to be sick on his birthday.

I totally agree. Not fair. :(

If today isn't your birthday and you can't get the free donuts, dress up like a cow and go to Chick-Fil-A. Thanks to Dad for telling me about that one.

Hopefully we'll have a more fun report on the birthday boy later!

Wait, wait, let me write that down!

It's a veritable catch-22. My children must do crazy things in order for me have something to write on my blog...however, my children keep interrupting my writing (and my, ah...researching other mommy blogs for kindred spirits) with the crazy things they do.

For example, Annie (of course, Annie. Jake is an angel these days. This is why I think people should have kids close together: they're both crazy at the same time, then they both grow out of it.) just started fussing in her "not-quite-crying-but-definitely-stuck" way. I walked in to find her upside down. Her legs were sticking straight up on the side of her chair, her head and arms were on the floor between her chair and the big chair. When I asked her what she was doing, she said plaintively, "STUCK!!"

I pulled her back up to a normal sitting position and you know what she said?

"AGAIN??"

No, not now, honey, Mommy has to go blog about it.

Annie and shoes...

So Annie has been obsessed with shoes since the day she was born. I absolutely blame myself. I had my own obsession with Annie's shoes, while she was still in utero. And then when she was a mere infant.

Shoes have always been one of her favorite things. They don't even have to be her own. She steals shoes while Jake is in karate (all the students leave their shoes outside the door). She points to my friends' feet and says, "Shoes?" As if to say, "Hey lady, can I have those?" And we've already started arguing in the mornings about which shoes she's going to wear. Of course, her argument is a bit more...physical...than mine, as she tends to throw the shoes she doesn't want and run away with the shoes she does...

This afternoon we were looking through a parenting magazine together so I could show her the different babies. We got to an especially cute sleeping baby, and I said, "See the baby, Annie? What's the baby doing?"

Annie responded dismissively, "Bye bye, baby." Then she emphatically pointed to the opposite page--an ad for Payless--and said, "Shoes! Shoes!"

So I suppose this picture of Annie trying to fill her brother's shoes should come as no surprise...



...but still, it's so darn cute.

And I'm throwing in this picture, too, since she stood in front of me repeating, "Cheeeeessseeee....cheeeeesssseee..." until I took another picture.

Just a typical morning...

While Jake cleans his room (his own choice--I think he misses getting an allowance), Ike sleeps (having come to bed after the last night of the movie at 7 this morning), and Annie watches, "Micka and Duck!" (that's Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck), I find myself huddled in a corner sucking my thumb and trying not to cry. The reason? It's really hitting home, what Ike so cruelly said in the car on the way home from Wilmington.

"You know, when Jake turns six on Friday, a third of his childhood will be over."

Oh.

But I am heartened and amused by the blog I posted about yesterday. Here's her idea for a Virtual Preschool. I'm so there for Annie...sign us up.

Pass me the canvas and the brush and I’ll paint this picture for you. You lock your kids in a small, childproofed room with a computer equipped with a web camera and Skype. You log your kids onto the preschool’s web page at 8am. Come to think of it, just have a computer set-up in your child’s room and as soon as you hear him stirring, log him in remotely. Each child will be assigned a virtual classroom with a virtual teacher. This will ensure that parents of the preschoolers still have something to complain about, which of course is a virtual right of passage. For example, if another child virtually bites your child, you can still call all of your girlfriends and discuss how that other mother has no control over her kid, and how you almost had to take your poor baby to an on-line emergency room to be examined by a Doogie Howser look alike who has virtually graduated from medical school.

Each student will be assigned a user name and password and every time the child hits a major developmental milestone the parents are to hit the “HaHa” switch which will denote the exact date and time the crowning achievement was witnessed (and confirmed by the grandparents). This feature is a key component to the success of my program, because in its absence it would be nearly impossible to know who won preschool.

The Quigleys Do Wilmington

We returned yesterday from a successful, albeit exhausting, trip to Wilmington for AUNT Adrianne (it's official!) and Uncle Billy's wedding. Here are a few highlights and things I learned.

First, for any of you who knew ahead of time that I planned to go down a day early to take the kids out on the beach by myself...those of you who knew better and didn't warn me...you're on my list. Why didn't someone hit me over the head or something?? No, really, it wasn't terrible, as long as I reminded myself every ten minutes to breathe and let go. And as long as I could be Elastic Girl, who could reach Annie in the sand and Jake in the water instantly at the same time. When Annie grabbed a bucket, said "Bye Mommy" and walked back toward the dunes, I had to do some fancy footwork to keep her on the beach without letting Jake drown.

From the kids' perspective (who by virtue of the fact that they are the kids do not ever worry that they will drown), it was a perfect day. We played in the water and Jake met new friends. Annie met seashells and sand and never even tried to eat any of it! Jake never tried to venture too far into the water because, as he described it, "Dad told me about this monster that grabs you if you get in past your waist and it pulls you into the water and you can't get back out."

I asked Jake if this monster was called, "the current," and he said yeah, that was it. I tried to explain that Dad didn't mean it was a monster, just that it was a strong pull. But Jake of course is (now four days from being) six, so he understands that anything that can grab you and suck you into the ocean must be a monster. Duh, mom.

Washing off the sand and changing clothes in the car after our beach day was absolutely the low point of the trip. Oh, no, wait. Maybe the low point was when we were changing into our suits before the beach, and Jake said (after pointing to my chest), "Wow, Mom, they look like they still have milk in them or something. I'm not trying to be rude."

Ouch. Yep, that was the worst of it.

So skipping over the drudgery of getting a baby out of a nasty sandy swim diaper and moving on...

We spent a wonderful evening Thursday with an old college roommate in her new home. It was so relaxing, I think we could have stayed a week (although I doubt we were quite as relaxing for her as she was for us). I'm amazed at this friend and how welcoming she is when people visit her home. She has a guest room and guest bathroom all prepared with fresh sheets, extra toiletries, reading material... Very impressive. She even has a guest book for people to sign. So if you're ever going to Wilmington, let me know and I'll send her your way (just kidding, Lynda C!).

Friday morning took us to the Wilmington Children's Museum, where we would've gotten in free had I realized I needed some stupid little sticker on my Greensboro Children's Museum membership card. Grr... Anyway, once you're there, you can't very well say, "Sorry, kids, Mommy doesn't want to pay for this," so we stayed and had a ($16) blast. Really, my kids are easygoing and fun to travel with. I think it's me that's whiny and hard to handle...

After lunch, we met up with Granny, Papa, Billy, Jane and George at the hotel. Beautiful, beautiful hotel with an awesome view of the Riverfront in downtown Wilmington. The hotel was actually having some odd issues with their power, something to do with a transformer blowing up, I think. That was Saturday, though. On Friday Jake and I stuck Annie in her playpen in the hotel room bathroom so she'd nap. Yes, I felt weird about sticking Annie in the bathroom to sleep, but really, she needed the nap and wouldn't go to sleep with Jake and me in the room. Jake and I vegged out on the hotel beds, playing Transformers (him) and reading (me).

Friday night we had a great meal at the Artisan restaurant for the rehearsal dinner,then went to Adrianne's parents' house for a yummy dessert. Annie and Jake were perfect (well, perfect-ish), especially considering how off-schedule we were. The minister (a very cool man named Arthur) commented on how well-behaved they were, and I had to admit my secret: God made them that way. Ike and I had nothing to do with it, we've just been lucky to have easy kids. (Okay, Jake's easy, Annie is easy-ish.)

We briefly saw another old college roommate Saturday morning. Oh! A note about something I learned Saturday: nice hotels don't do free continental breakfasts. If you go to one, don't invite your friend to eat with you there. It's not free.

When Ike arrived (YAY!) Saturday, the four of us went to lunch, then stayed in place through a huge thunderstorm (no swimming in the pool for us). We got back to our hotel, put Annie in the bathroom again for a nap, then all got ready for the wedding.

The wedding!! Are you still reading? Aunt Adrianne was a beautiful bride. Even Jake, who is more impressed by strength than beauty, was amazed and kept talking about her "big white dress." Adrianne wrote the vows, and as she'd promised, it was the shortest wedding ceremony ever. :) Just wonderful... with a great dinner afterward.

Oh, one thing. Julia Stiles was staying at The Wilmingtonian, where Adrianne and Billy got married and stayed for the night. Adrianne was so funny about it when she saw her on the front porch. Adrianne whispered to me, "Julia Stiles is staying here, but I have the best room in the house!" And she deserved the best room, it was a wonderful evening. Welcome to the family, Adrianne! :)

Two quick stories, then I'll stop so you can stop reading my saga. Jake is apparently picking up my lingo. At lunch on Saturday, we were all talking about something (maybe Ike remembers what?), and I said something that Jake obviously thought was a joke. He looked at me, deadpan, and said, "No, Mom. Seriously." Seriously?? Seriously?? Who is this teenage boy???

Also, it seems Annie might be ready to start potty training. No, don't worry, I'm not going to be pushing my eighteen-month-old to train. But Saturday in the hotel, she walked into the bathroom, lifted up her shirt facing the toilet (just like Jake does), looked at me and asked, "Potty?"

I asked if she wanted to use the potty and she nodded. So I stripped off her diaper and sat her on the toilet for a few minutes. Nothing happened, but still, there it is. She's interested, so I suppose I need to be. So much for not thinking about it until she's three...

A new blog to read on a Monday morning

Whether you work outside the home or your home and kids work you all day (I mean, if you're a stay-at-home-mom), Monday mornings are hard. I suspect that in a third-world country, where one has to worry about where the next meal comes from and one has no calendar, people still wake up on Mondays (without actually realizing it's a Monday) and think, "Man, this day is harder than all the others. Where's my coffee?"

So, I give you this on a Monday morning, thanks to my friend Snoa. Something to read while you ignore the boss/emails/phone/laundry/dog/kids: My Minivan is Faster Than Yours.

My favorite quote from a recent entry, in which the author contemplates sending her children to Alcatraz for potty training:
First of all, seeing as it's been uninhabited since 1963, with the exception of the whole San Francisco Bay/Pacific Ocean issue, it's totally childproofed. Regardless of how diligently you childproof a home, one kid might still chuck a piece of sidewalk chalk at his sister. There's no sidewalk chalk on Alcatraz.

You can't argue with good sense, folks.

"Rubble" Strikes Again

Not to compare my children, but Jake at eighteen months was relatively calm. It's all relative, of course. Relative to his sister Annie, who at eighteen months is trying to kill me (or herself) every day.

Take this morning for example. I went out early to get 4th of July star donuts for the kids and Ike (I settled for yummy Krispy Kreme coffee. I'm not dieting, I just have serious sugar overload when I eat a donut...it's like being drunk or something and it makes me mean). Annie and Jake ate theirs, I swept and mopped the floors and wiped down the table and Annie's chair (very messy, those donuts), then I gave Annie a bath (again, very messy donuts...).

We're leaving tomorrow to go to Wilmington for Uncle Billy and (almost) Aunt Adrianne's wedding, so I have a few errands to run. In the ten minutes I took to brush my teeth and get dressed, this is what Annie managed to do...

I walked back into the dining room to find Annie: on the table, covered in red, white and blue sprinkles. She'd climbed onto the table, opened the donut box and attacked Ike's donut. Sprinkles were EVERYWHERE. On her hands, legs, face. On the floor, the table, the chairs. (Incidentally, Ike's donut doesn't look like it's missing any sprinkles at all, which makes me wonder...how many sprinkles can fit on one donut??)

And what did Annie say?

"I did it! Yay!" Hmm...actually, Annie, this is the time to say, "sowwy."

Annie explains...

For...eighteen months now (okay, maybe just since she started walking), Ike and I have had a nickname for Annie. "Trouble." If you've read anything I've ever written regarding our daughter, you understand.

A few minutes ago, I rescued Annie from yet another "Annie-get-down-before-you-break-your-neck" moment as she tried to climb onto the table by climbing a dining room chair. I pulled her off the chair, got down at her level and asked, "Annie, what are you getting into???"

She shook her head (overwhelmed with her own daring, I guess) and answered, "Rubble."

There you have it, in toddler-speak. Trouble/Rubble, our daughter.