Brudder, you my best friend in da WHOLE World!

The past few weeks have been a bit of a challenge. I don't know if it is the changing of the weather, the impending holidays or too much quality time together but the boys have been at each others throats. Nonstop. Every time I leave the room I brace for the impending scream, shout, and/or tears that are certain to follow. And I do mean EVERY TIME I leave the room. It is exhausting and infuriating and troublesome all at the same time.

This morning, after the boys got into a heated argument over whether or not the picture on the back of the Clifford cereal box was of a cherry or a raspberry, Sawyer looks at Liam and says "Brudder, you my best friend in da WHOLE world!!" They looked at each other, smiled, ate their cereal and then moments later were stretched across the table fighting again. I just don't understand it. I am convinced it is something that is wired into the "Y" chromosome, or as I like to call it the "WHY?!!" chromosome. As in, WHY must you argue nonstop? WHY must you kick each other for fun? WHY can't Mommy brush her teeth without having to run downstairs and pull you off of one another? WHY?????

Lately it has left me exhausted and guiltily counting down the minutes until school starts.

I know that they love each other and I know that they really are each other's best friend. But they also are at each other's throats nonstop and it is wearing me down. Ken looked at me last night and said "This is great. For the next ten years we won't ever be able to leave them alone in the same room .." Like I said...exhausting. They are either kicking, screaming, or hitting each other OR they are sitting quietly together giving each other hugs and professing their undying friendship and love for one another. (Which coincidentally ends with more kicking, screaming and/or hitting).

 I just don't get it. But then again, I have two "x" chromosomes.

Filed Under: Things That Can Keep You Up All Night

Check this out:

http://vimeo.com/17109560


This lovely footage of a mama mountain lion and her two hungry cubs was taken in the backyard right next door to my friend's house. She lives in Golden near the mesa, which is about ten minutes to the south from our house. Which is not that far at all as the crow flies. Or as the mountain lion hunts.

Apparently mama lion moved in last week and brought her two carnivorous cubs with her. She's just been hanging out in their back yard, relaxing, tending to her cubs and running off to kill and bring back the occasional tasty deer carcass (which you can see them devouring in this lovely video).

To say my friend is a little freaked out with this next door to her...is an understatement and the fact that her neighbor doesn't seem too worried with fresh kill in his back yard? Defies logic.

Red

After nearly 7 months of not doing my hair (aside from washing and drying it occasionally...) I couldn't take it any longer. I used my salon gift card and finally, FINALLY, FINALLY went and took care of "the situation" which had become my hair. I decided to do something totally different and I am digging it.

Results below...

Murphy's Law

The past few days I have been staying up very late painting, and then getting up early when Sawyer climbs into bed with me at 6:00 am. When I woke up yesterday Ken said "Wow-You look rough. You need some sleep!!" So last night, all I wanted to do was get some sleep...blessed sleep. Ken made us all dinner and then joked around with the boys, "Ok boys, now you need to go and put Mommy to bed!" Ha ha.

After the boys were fed, bathed and put to bed I was soon to follow. I came down stairs and sat down to watch a little bit of tv and Ken took one look at me and said "Would you just get some sleep already?!" So I drug myself upstairs and flopped into bed. About ten minutes later I heard Sawyer crying. I tried to tune it out but something about the cry, and the timing made me come out of my coma and go into his room. When I went in the stench of vomit was overwhelming and the poor Bean was covered in vomit. His bed and wall looked like someone threw a bucket of puke all over it. He sat in his bed crying and shocked with what had just happened.

And thus began Pukefest, 2010 and another sleepless night.

I lost track of the number of times he got sick, but it was *a lot*. And every time he would throw up he would cry a tiny bit and then thank me for cleaning him up. He even managed to puke in the toilet AND the wastebasket a few times. I was impressed at his pinpoint accuracy. Throughout it all though he was very sweet and very appreciative--which definitely helps when you have to get up 8 million times in the course of a very long night.

Now if we have any luck at all, Liam will not get it and we can all get some sleep tonight. Here's hoping!

BELIEVE.

The past few weeks have been a bit rough. My mood has been up and down and back again seven ways to Sunday. When I first chose to leave Full-Time Employment in Corporate America to paint and illustrate I was a bit nervous, but generally optimistic that I was going to succeed. Somewhere over the course of the past month the optimism has disappeared and in its place, a gnawing, nagging cyst of doubt has grown. Like any dutiful cluster of unhealthy cells, the doubt has continued to get bigger, eating away at my self confidence. On more days then not, I question "why"? And "how"? And "What-the-hell-was-I-thinking?!" I have become quite frankly, scared. I question myself and my abilities, daily.

I don't like feeling this way.

I like to teach my children to be sure of themselves. I like them to know that if they put their head and heart into something and try their hardest, they will succeed. Lately, Liam has struggled with overcoming his gigantic fear of jumping into the water. We have told him if he believes in himself, he can do anything. So it should come as no surprise to surprise to me that he would turn around and teach me back. Tonight as I was driving with Liam to swim lessons we talked about believing in yourself and in your abilities. For some reason the conversation turned to the painting I am working on and need to deliver tomorrow morning. I told Liam I was really worried that my client wasn't going to like it (because *I* don't like it.) Liam interrupted me and said "But Mommy, you just need to BELIEVE he will like it. I know you are good artist and I like your paintings, but now YOU just need to believe you are good too."

And he is right.

A night with Angie, the Kirby Salesperson

This evening, after I picked the boys up from school I decided to vacuum the house while Ken was out with some former coworkers. The doorbell rang and I made the mistake of answering the door. There was a young woman at the door. I assumed she was a high school student selling coupon books or magazine subscriptions. Oh no. That would have been easier. Instead she held out a bottle of hand sanitizer to me and said "I'd like you to try this for a moment." I said "No thanks. We don't use hand sanitizer here." She said "Oh-you don't use it?" And I replied "Nope. We like to build up our immune system the good ol' fashioned way...by germs." Thinking that was the end of it, the woman turned away and said "Hold on just a second." She returned a few moments later with a large box. Followed by another large box. Before I even realized what was happening she was inside the house asking to clean a spot on my carpet.

And thus, it began.

Immediately I told her "I'm sorry. I cannot buy a vacuum from you. I don't have a regular source of income and I *cannot* (I emphasized this multiple times) spend that kind of money. However, if you need practice giving your speech or need me to sign a paper saying you gave a demonstration so you can get paid...I can do that for you." She told me I was very sweet and continued on with her demonstration. Her TWO AND A HALF HOUR demonstration. Yes, TWO AND A HALF HOURS. At night. In my house.

Without going into detail I can tell you that even though the demonstration was tedious (as well as impressive--those Kirby vacuums are impressive!!) the salesgirl was very lovely and very, very sweet. I learned her name was Angie and she was a single mother of a two year old boy. She had just moved to Colorado and this was her first job. She told me she wanted to earn money to go to art school. She was very good around the kids, namely Sawyer who would NOT lever her alone. He would study her movements while she would attach and reattach different parts to the Amazing Kirby Vacuum and then undo and then reattach the parts when she wasn't looking. Angie was very patent and said that her two favorite things in the world were art and children. She told me seeing Sawyer made her miss her little boy. (Apparently they go out in teams for two weeks at a time and go door to door selling Kirby vacuums). Her parents watch her son when she travels. The entire time she spoke I could see a little bit of myself in her and my heart went out to her.

She tried her hardest to sell me that amazing vacuum even going so far as getting her boss to give me a "special rate" if I bought it right then but at the end of the day I just could not justify spending $1500.00 on a vacuum (which was marked down from $2695!!). No matter how well it sucked up dirt, soaped the floors and cleaned windowsills and upholstery. I just couldn't. She seemed really sad and told me she understood and that I made it clear from the beginning that I wasn't going to buy one. But she was still disappointed. Since the demo ran so late I was trying to fix the boys some dinner and I asked her if she would like a snack and she said yes, so I gave her an entire bag of potato chips. She packed up all of her Kirby parts and made a call to the rest of her team and went outside. I wished her well and shut the door.

Ten or so minutes later I went to pull down the blinds and I saw Angie the Kirby Salesperson, still sitting out at the end of the drive with her boxes of Kirby parts and her bag of potato chips, waiting in the cold for her ride. Something about the scene just broke my heart and made me feel terribly sad. She tried her hardest to sell me a Kirby and had things been different I would have gladly bought one from her. But sadly, I couldn't.

Scenes From A Party...

Three!!

Getting into present dismantling...

Presents!

He loved his "Where the Wild Thing Are" puppet...probably because it is a kindred spirit...

The customary Chef Daddy Cake creation. Sawyer wanted an ambiulance.
Then a fire truck. Then a police car. Then a ladybug but eventually landed back
to Ambulance Cake. (Liam is just as excited as his brother)

Happy Birthday Beanie!

Look who is THREE today?!!!

This turkey.

Happy birthday to my sweet, adorable, silly and happy littlest boy. I love you!!!!

I Love You, But You are Driving Me Nuts.

Ugh.

My nerves are a frayed mess of irritability this weekend. I have one nerve left and each child is taking turns  plucking away at it. Like two mini-lumberjacks with their crosscut saw, back and forth back and forth until it finally gives way with a loud SNAP! 

I love my children more then life itself and I am pretty certain most of the time, they love me. But this weekend...they are trying to kill me. Like predators in the wild, they can smell weakness and they are attacking. Namely, my already precarious nervous system.

Things that were said either by me or TO me this weekend:

"The potty is overflowing!!!"

"We do NOT run away from Mommy at a VERY crowded zoo in a VERY large and dark exhibit!! I cannot see you and someone might take you and then the joke would be on them!" (And yes, I did say that to a certain 6 year old who angry, took off in the Amphibian exhibit on an extremely crowded day. Hell hath no furry then a Mama Bear who can't find her (naughty) cub.)

"I don't CARE. I want to go on the train and I am going to go and that is FINAL!"

"(laughing) Oops! I spilled my milk again. (More diabolical laughter).

and,

"Mommy, I'm sorry I wiped a boogey on your cheek."

Ugh. It's a good thing they are so adorable.

The Acorn (Squash) Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree

When I was 6 years old, I came home from Kindergarden a few days before Thanksgiving and told my Mom..."There's a Thanksgiving program and I need a pilgrim dress. By tomorrow." And sure enough, my dear mother, amidst all of the preparation for Thanksgiving and house guests, managed to turn my Halloween witch costume into a pilgrim dress in only a few hours. I distinctly remember going to school the following morning and being the only child, dressed as a pilgrim, and I loved it. My teacher, Mrs. Sands, paraded me around to all of the teachers and office staff showing off my pilgrim outfit. Now you may be asking...did I really need to have a pilgrim costume for a school program the following morning or was this just something I thought would be pretty neat? While there really was a small thanksgiving program at school (which did not include kindergardeners), and while some kids constructed pilgrim hats and others, Indian vests (made of old grocery bags), wearing pilgrim attire was most definitely optional. As in, an option I probably created in my vivid imagination. (By the way, THANK YOU Mom, for making me that pilgrim dress.)

So it should be no surprise to anyone that my six year old came home yesterday needing to wear "simple pilgrim clothes" for the first grade Thanksgiving feast. "Mommy! I HAVE to wear clothes with simple, dull colors like black or white or grey to go with my pilgrim hat and collar I made at school!" So I dug around his closet this morning and found some black pants, white dress shirt and black vest (the blue and green striped tie was nixed by Liam for being "too colorful for a pilgrim."). When I dropped him off at school this morning was I greeted by 25 little pilgrims? Of course not. There were 24 kids sporting colorful shorts and sweatpants and only one pilgrim. My little pilgrim.

And he was adorable.

Bring out the Gimp

You would not know it at first glance, but Beanie has a bum foot. He took a tumble down a few steps on Saturday night (in the dark, so we are not exactly sure what happened) and ever since he has been Hop-a-Long Jenner. I feared he would not be able to make it around the neighborhood on Halloween with his gimpy foot but he drug it up and down the street, over yards and up over sidewalks. I kept hoping he would wake up the next day with the gimp limp but no such luck. There was never any swelling. No bruising. Nothing. And when you asked him if his foot hurts he always answers "No" and then proceeds to gimp off. Last night he finally showed me where it hurt...a specific spot on the top of his right foot. So today after 3.5 days of solid limping we decided to pay out of pocket (we are in the midst of picking a new insurance plan and are trying to avoid using COBRA$) and get him checked out.

When the doctor came in Beanie was in the midst of hopping up and down and spinning around. She gave me "the look" and I said "No really. This child is limping!" She examined his foot and leg and then had him walk across the room. She took one look at him gimping and said "Oh wow. Yeah, he's got something going on in there." They x-rayed him and he laid there completely still when they moved him around. (afterwards the tech told me he was the best preschooler she's ever x-rayed). The tech commented on how bad he was limping and figured it was probably broken. The doctor came back in and said perplexed, "There is no break! I have no idea what is happening in there but luckily his bones are intact. His limp is so bad so maybe he has some deep bruising. Come back next week if it is no better. Thanks for making the afternoon interesting!!"

So, bad limp but no break. The gimp limps on.