Last night we went over to Scott’s nephew and his wife’s house to help them put together a beautiful baby crib.  In just forty-five days, we’ll have a new family member.  They are on the brink of parenthood.  I stood there in the kitchen watching my four year old on the floor drinking milk proudly from a cup with no lid, a feat we are currently practicing.  Wasn’t that cup a bottle just a few shorts weeks ago?  Wasn’t I naively standing on the brink of parenthood just a few months before?

There was so much I wanted to tell them.

I wanted to say, you will have to relearn how to do everything. From one handed laundry to eating cold dinner because you had to change a diaper or feed a little one, not to mention trying to squeeze in a shower every few days.  You’ll forget to eat in those first days and weeks because you are in such awe that you made this little being and gave him life.  Watching him sleep is more peaceful than a massage.  Hearing him coo is more entertaining than the TV.   You’ll cry when he gets shots.  You’ll hold your breath when he takes his first steps.  You’ll get mad at him. You’ll get mad at each other.  You’ll make mistakes.  Everyone does.  But you’ll love him more completely than anyone else on this Earth has ever loved any one person.   And you will look at your parents in a different way, because you know now, they love you that much.

But I just smiled as I watched Caleb drinking his milk and listened to the last few notes of the crib mobile  drifting down the hall, barely audible in the kitchen. I simply said, “Don’t blink.  Because it goes by really fast.”

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Tsk tsk.  My poor neglected blog.  You know it has been too long when you have to log into wordpress to access your blog’s dashboard.  It doesn’t “remember” who you are (your saved login info).  And your husband asks, “When are you going to blog again?”  Two days ago.

So, a little criteria for reading this:

  • If you are a dentist, DON’T
  • If you value your teeth, DON’T
  • If you like to remain cavity free, DON’T
  • If you prefer to avoid sugar induced comas, DON’T
  • If you are on a diet, lord knows, DON’T
  • If you’ve read all this and still just don’t care, proceed with caution, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Gather your ingredients: honey, cinnamon, butter (duh, you pretty much got that from the title), and powdered sugar.  Y’all stop looking at Civil War era mixer.  She’s a beauty, isn’t she?

I’ve experimented a bit with the recipe, as the honey taste was a bit strong in the first recipe.  I used a scant half cup of honey, 2.5 teaspoons of cinnamon, 1 cup of sugar and two sticks of butter.  Just dump and mix.  No special instructions.  The butter will have a nice, soft (spreadable!) whipped consistency when you’re done.

That’s all, after that, just enjoy the rush.  Warning: you may receive unreasonable demands and/or threats that you make more immediately, when supplies are approximately half depleted.

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This is Caleb’s girl friend from across the street.  She and her brothers come over to play a lot.  If she got any cuter, I might just keep her here for myself!  She was sure to tell me Happy Mother’s Day!

They had so much fun playing in the car today.  Pretending to be grown ups driving to the gas station and listening to tunes on the radio.  Caleb asked if he could give her a kiss!  “Noooo!” she squealed!

He did give her a weed flower, eskimo kisses and butterfly kisses before asking if he could plant a wet one on her cheek!

I seriously want to offer her parents a free photography session to have an excuse to take pictures of her.  She is so delicate and girly, I feel like she should be wearing a set of wings.  She said the bugs kept biting her earlier and I told her it was because she was so sweet.  She said, “Yeah I think so too.  *Sigh.  Raises eyebrows* Not everybody else does though.”

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…this morning?

(No I didn’t butcher the front, it is just the way it is laying while still wet, I’ve now had two years practice!)

A wee bit shaggy a few days ago…

I can always tell it is time for a haircut when the back looks like this every time he lays down… and also, we misplaced his ears.

Of course, it has been worse in the past…

I see nothing funny here.

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Caleb and I were riding in the car when the topic of remote control trucks came up (Scott has a few gas powered ones.  And not gas like what goes in your car, nooo, no, $35 a gallon gas. Yeah.).

“I want Daddy to get another truck!”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, they are expensive.”

“Why?”

“Because they cost a lot of money.”

“Why?”

“Because they are expensive to make I suppose.”

“Why?”

“Well, because they take a lot of time and work I suppose.  And the parts are expensive to make.”

“…Why?”

“I reckon the materials the parts are made of cost a lot.”

“Why?”

“[laughing now] I don’t know Caleb.  They just do!”

“…[longer pause]…Why?  Don’t laugh.  DON’T LAUGH!”

~He told me something about his little pull along puppy, so I turned the tables~

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it just does.”

“Why?” I asked again.

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“I DON’T KNOW.  I JUST DON’T!”

“Hey did you see those cows?!” I asked, changing the subject.

“No, what color where they?”

“Brown.”

“Were they milk cows?”

“No, I think they were beef cows.”

“Well maybe they were chocolate cows since they were brown.”

“I think they were beef cows.”

“No, those are brown and white cows.  So I think they were chocolate cows.”

“I’m not sure what the difference is in brown cows and brown and white cows.”

“Brown cows are chocolate cows.  I just told you.”

“Okay, they were chocolate cows.”

Case closed.

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Scene: Rest time (early afternoon at our house).  Caleb “reads” books in his bed while sometimes talking and singing loudly to himself quietly.  He usually ends up going to the…umm…little boy’s room at some point during this 75 minutes.  To, you know, preform the only one of the Three S’s he is capable of at four years old.  I sit at the computer and whittle away my time with mindless internet activities sometimes blog during this time.  I was on the phone with my mom.

Caleb: [entering the room for help buttoning his shorts]: “You don’t EVEN want to know what the toilet looks like right now.”

Me: [phone conversation ceases, my mom pauses, then says "uh oh":  "What's that?"

Caleb: [repeats sentence with strong emphasis on the word even]

Me: [My mom is giggling bigtime at this point]: “Why is that?”

Caleb: *Grin* I think I actually saw a twinkle in his eye

Me: [stands up from my computer chair] “Hold on Momma”

Caleb: [Tears ASS around the corner, slams the toilet lid and waves his hands over it as if to make the contents disappear] “No.  No, no, no.  NO!”

Me: “Caleb, please go get back in your bed.” [Loose translation: Move, I need to assess the damage.]

The bottom line, pardon the pun: Do not sit on the toilet unless you desire the sensation otherwise known as “Toilet-butt.”  But there was ne’er a drop of water on the floor.  How I’ll never know.  After the tides recede, a plunge shall be required.

~~~

Scene: The kitchen table, examining a science experiment butter from Wendy’s that has gone unrefrigerated for five days now.

Caleb: “It’s better than fast food.  It’s Wendy’s.”

Me: “Oh?  Where did you hear that?”

Caleb: “The TV Channel told me.”

The bottom line: There in lies the reason we watch very little TV.  By we, I mean Caleb.  I can just hear in a zombified voice, “The talking box told me to do it.”  Still, it cracked me up.  We taped Madagascar (with commercials) on the DVR a few weeks ago.  I’m guessing it contains a Wendy’s commercial at some point during the movie.

~~~

Oh yeah, ps…you can rate blog entries before/when leaving a comment.  Because sometimes you just don’t have anything to say  (I love when you do!).  In that case, you are encouraged to check “You rock” ;)   That’s all.

You’re excited.  I can tell.

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This past week, our backyard turned into grand central.  Several of the neighborhood kids, who seemingly are free to roam the neighborhood, took up residence on our deck.  We are glad to have the company, but our neat and tidy sandbox turned to chaos.  And it quickly became apparent that the biggest (and most expensive) hit, the moon sand, was being dispersed through the cracks in the deck at an alarming rate.

The sandbox

The whole area around the table with the moon sand box looks like this:

After a little research online, I stopped by Walmart last night and for the grand total of $1.75 for two boxes of cornstarch, I made my own moon sand.  It is a bit messier than the real stuff I think, but for a small fraction of the price.  You combine water, cornstarch and play sand.  The only difference is this sand does dry out.  You have to add a little water each time.

The darker models are moon sand, the lighter is my homemade sand

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I don’t know which part is more embarrassing funnier… The fact that I bought these period.  The fact that these slippers were $3.24.  Or the fact that I bought the XL because they were $3.24 while the medium and large (more common sizes) were still $6.48.

Whatever the case, they make my feet smile.

Somehow they don’t look like boats from this angle on little feet.

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This year, we did a photo scavenger hunt instead of a basket full of candy filled eggs and dollar store stuff.  I went around the house and outside taking pictures of recognizable places.  The stove, the clothes hamper, a toybox, the bumper sticker on my car, a ball in the yard…  I printed all of these pictures out as a contact sheet (the one that fits about 35 photos).  After cutting them up, I put one egg with a picture in a small bucket that had a few other eggs and some easter grass.  The place in the picture was where Caleb should look for the next egg…and so on.  He ran all over the house, then out in the yard.  It took an hour to complete our “hunt!”  He seemed to really enjoy himself, and it was reasonably simple, although it took me longer to place all the eggs than I thought it would.

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