War Pigs and Other Childhood Favorites

Some of Ray's and Chay's favorite songs:

• War Pigs, Black Sabbath
• Girls, Beastie Boys
• Brass Monkey, Beastie Boys
• Breaking the Law, Judas Priest
• Rock Star, Nickelback
• Call Me the Breeze, Lynrd Skynrd
• Paralyzer, Finger Eleven
• Hard to Handle, Black Crowes
• Icky Thump, The White Stripes.

Play these songs and you won't be able to get them to stop dancing. And don't even think about playing a slow song. That's guaranteed to get you some whining, and maybe a tantrum or two.

Chay, She's Got Your Back

E picked Ray and Chay up from school today and related the following story to me:

"You would be proud of your daughter today, Mitch! She fought for her brother. She was at the water fountain getting a drink, and Chay was walking around waiting for her. The kids started coming in from outside and JuJu started yelling, 'Hey, look! Its Diaper Boy!' referring to Chay, of course. In a sing songy voice JuJu started singing, 'Diaper Boy, Diaper Boy' and a couple of the other kids started singing too. Ray jumped down from the water fountain, got up in JuJu's face, and yelled 'Hey! That's not Diaper Boy! He's my brother and his name is Chay*** *****!' You should have seen the look on JuJu's face. It was classic!"

First, and most importantly, she loves her brother. I've always known it, but this is just further proof. Despite their frequent fights, they are always hugging/running/playing with each other and are basically inseparable.

Second, how cute and innocent are JuJu's taunts to get Ray's attention? Calling her little brother "Diaper Boy"? "Diaper Boy" is not a real insult -- fact is, Chay wears a diaper. JuJu just recently advanced up to Ray's class; a feat that could not be accomplished until he was himself out of diapers. I guess he feels all proud of his big, bad self.

Third, I guess this ends Ray's love affair with her JuJu. Her first love letter was written to him. Sad, I saw a bright future for those two.

Ray's Ailment of the Day

"Mommy, I need to go to the doctor. My teeth hurt."

Time Out

We started time outs with Chay Friday night. He threw that ball at me again right in the middle of my eyes, and I had had it (does that read right??? had had it????). So we put him in time out in his highchair because we can't keep him in a regular chair without locking him up. Guess what, he laughed. And sat there happily until we gave up 15 minutes later. Saturday he was in time out ~10 times before noon. Again, laughing all the way. Time outs aren't working.

With Ray we didn't start time outs until she turned two. But she was much more responsive to alternative discipline before that. Chay does not. He is hard headed and thinks that the time outs/hand slaps/finger pointings/etc. are hilarious. Seriously. This is a new struggle that I've never dealt with before. Shockingly.

Ray's Ailment(s) of the Day:

"Daddy, I have the hickups. I think I need to go to the doctor."

AND (we must have multiple symptoms)

"Mommy, my tummy and my boo and my leg hurts. Please take me to the doctor."

I Hate Full Moons

Ray and Chay don't sleep when there is a full moon. They never have, and I am always cranky in the days around one. I have been up since 2 am with one of the children (of course, they won't both wake up at the same time). One falls back to sleep; the other wakes up. Lay down myself, and one wakes up again. Repeat until its time to get up to go to work. I can't wait to go to bed tonight.

Ray's ailment of the day: "Mommy, I need to go to the doctor. My ear hurts."

ETA: I'm still having a crappy day. But I'm not going to complain about it. I just checked Collin's update and I have no right to complain about missing a couple of hours of sleep.

Call the Doctor, She's a Hypochondriac

Every morning for the past few days, Ray has told us that she needs to go to the doctor for one ailment or another. Its gotten to the point where E and I now try to guess what the problem of the day is going to be.

"Mommy, my tummy hurts. I need to go to the doctor."

"Mommy, I have a boo boo on my toe. I need to go to the doctor."

"Mommy, I'm not feeling well. I need to go to the doctor."

"Mommy, my head hurts. I need to go to the doctor."

And, today's doozy (she changed it up on us a little):
"Call the doctor, Daddy. I need a shot."

He's Hard Headed.

And I mean that literally. He's so hard headed he broke my toe.

We went to a water feature at the local park today, and Chay took off running (straight at me, of course). Right before he got to me, he tripped (over his own toe, of course). He fell HARD, and his head went crashing to the concrete at full speed. Luckily, my foot happened to be right where his head was landing, so it softened the blow. I swear, he would have had a concussion; he fell that hard. Instead, I have a broken toe. But, that's OK. We need to sacrifice once and a while as a mom, right?

Of Balloons and Pee Pees

I had an HOA meeting last night, so I strictly told E not to call me unless it was an absolute emergency. Of course, he calls me just as the meeting starts and I go into panic mode. Here is about how our conversation went --

E: You know that pink balloon Ray was playing with?

Mitch: Yeah, what happened?

E: And you know how those balloons suck and deflate really easy?

Mitch: Oh, crap. Did Chay choke on one?

E: No, he's fine. Ray's fine too.

Mitch: Then hurry up and get to the point (and in my head I'm saying "Then why in the hell are you calling me?")

E: Because Ray found the balloon and you know how it kind of looks like a finger now?

Mitch: Will you hurry up already?

E: Ray just ran up to me and said "Daddy, Daddy! This balloon looks like Chay's pee pee!" Oh, shit, Chay just knocked over the gate. Gotta go.

Click.

Tame Thy Temper

Remember when I said Chay's a lover not a fighter? Not so much anymore. Last night he was a holy terror. I'm seriously starting to dislike having a little boy.

• After repeatedly being told to stop throwing a plastic ball, he looked me directly in the eyes, grinned and THREW IT AT MY FACE. Hit me square in the eyes.
• After being told I couldn't read a book to him because I needed to cook dinner, HE THREW THE BOOK AT ME. Luckily, he has bad aim and it just hit the floor. But, man that would have hurt.
• After repeatedly being told to stop pushing Ray's doll stroller into the entertainment center/wall/cabinets, he RAN DIRECTLY AT ME AND BANGED IT INTO MY LEG.
• After being told he couldn't have any more blueberries because he already ate a pint of them, he SQUISHED WHAT HE HAD LEFT INTO HIS SHIRT/HAIR/FACE.

Luckily, this morning he was all hugs and kisses, so he's forgiven. Until tonight.

See, I Really Did Forget!

Ever since I had Ray, I have been extremely forgetful. Like I told my friend, JB, just the other day, I can remember the big stuff like his visit to IU, but I can't remember the small stuff like a toilet flushing sound in second grade that apparentally made the whole class crack up. I suppose I may not have remembered it prior to Ray, but since I wasn't talking to JB then, I can't really say if we would have been discussing it.

But I digress. It appears that there is scientific proof that my memory loss really is Ray and Chay's fault! I had always used them as an excuse, but now I can say I have a very real medical condition. I need a way to get a doctor's note or something.

Adventures in Driving with Mitch

I am notoriously known as a bad driver. People who have known me for years can vouch for this. I once decided to make a left turn from the middle lane of a three lane road causing a taxi cab to t-bone my car. Another time I drove too close to a bush and ripped the driver side mirror off the car. I have rear ended cars at least three different times and I've spent an unimaginable amount of money in car repairs. I told you I'm a bad driver.

But it doesn't make it any easier for me when a seagull TRIES TO DIVE BOMB MY CAR!!!!! I don't know if he was on a suicide mission or what but he scared me so bad I almost caused a 10 car pile up on 41. Luckily, no damage was done and I guess he changed his mind about dying because he pulled up just in time to avoid hitting my car.

That was this morning and my day hasn't improved at all.

A Clumsy Little Cuss

Chay doesn't walk; he runs. Usually right into a wall. Talk about clumsy.

We went to an art festival yesterday, and I kind of regret it. It was hot, the kids were cranky, and we couldn't get close to any of the art for fear of grimey mini me hands breaking something. By the end of the afternoon, I was carrying a bawling Ray, and Chay was running in the opposite direction of the exit. He's a fast little bugger and I couldn't catch up to him (its not easy to run while carrying a 32 pound three year old). He ran full speed into a display table, the lip of which was right at the level of his mouth. He wasn't hurt, just a little startled that the table would so rudely jump out in front of him like that. But I was a little overwhelmed because now I had two screaming children wanting to be held. And, where was E during all of this drama? Getting an ice cream bar.

Chay does things like that all of the time. When he was around 15 months, he was standing by the couch. All of a sudden he started running as fast as his little legs could move him. Straight towards the entertainment center. Which is about 12 feet straight ahead. He didn't even try to slow down before he hit it. He fell backwards and just kind of laid there looking up at the ceiling. At first I was worried because he made no movement or any noise for at least 10 seconds. Then he slowly stood up and shook it off. And took off running towards the kitchen.

The Ottoman Is Not a Battering Ram

Chay has figured out how to open the gate between our kitchen and living room. This is extremely bad news.

How does he manage to open our complicated-for-advanced-people-shouldn't-be-able-to-be-opened-by-an-18-mth-old gate?

He uses our ottoman. As a battering ram. Apparently after a few well placed bangings, the gate opens right up.

Who knew?

Mitchy, Wanna Split a Beer?

In a scene from Lethal Weapon 2, Mel Gibson's character splits a beer with his date, which reminds me of my Grandma.

Grandma doesn't drink much (now) and every once in a while she wants a beer. But not a whole beer. When we are together, she'll say, "Mitchy, Wanna split a beer with me?" And I do.

After she's done with her half of a beer, she'll wait an appropriate amount of time, then say, "Mitchy, Wanna split a beer with me?" And I do.

After she's done with her second half of a beer, she'll wait another appropriate amount of time, then say, "Mitchy, Wanna split a beer with me?" And I do.

When its all said and done, we've split about six beers. And I'm a little tipsy.