On Lunden Pond

Sunday we decided to check out a set of trails up the road from us and head out for a little adventure. The boys had fishing poles they hadn't been able to try out yet, and Rob got a license and a new pole for his birthday. They were itching to fish, baby. We were happily surprised by the picturesque setting, and the ability to bring everyone on the adventure with us, including our new little pugsy. What a thrill for Max to catch his very first fish ever on his third cast! I cannot begin to describe the expression on that boy's face as he was reeling in his catch. Thrill, joy, manic excitement, surprise... his face wasn't really smiling exactly. It was a contorted, eye-bulging, grin. A tad on the scary side, but man was he EXCITED! Rob hustled over with congratulations and then a casual, "How'd you catch that, Max?". Rob wanted a fish too! A very big day for the Jordan boys, a memory seared into Max's mind. Oh, and Rob did catch his own fish the next day on Dean Pond, just so you don't feel so bad for him. He caught a 12 inch Rainbow Trout!

Sweet Doggy Insanity

Well, it's official, I must be insane. Meet Sammy, our newest family member! He is an adorable one-year-old pug we took in for someone who was moving. It has been exactly one week today and we are finally figuring out how we all can coexist peacefully. I wasn't so sure last Wednesday after a sleepless night of dog antics... but, by day two he was snoring blissfully (and quite audibly) at our feet. To my delight, he's surprisingly clean and tidy. No long hair to shed, no drooling, only the slight aroma of dog about him. We even gave him a bath Saturday! That is what my Saturday night has come to! No gallivanting around town, or out for a show. We give doggy baths here. Boo ya!

The boys seem to have fallen in love with him, although Miles has a distinct love/hate relationship with him. Sammy has cramped Miles' style of lounging about snacking. The dog will not rest if there is food being enjoyed and Miles needs to have his snack time reprogrammed to suit this new lifestyle. He wavers between squealing with delight and running across the house repeatedly with Sammy at his heals, to howling like a teenager that no dogs are allowed in his room. That is followed by a shuddering door slam. He's a fairly moody three year old.

Max has no complaints, and giggles with child-like adoration whenever Sammy's in the mood to play with him.

Rob and I are going with the flow. We are the walkers, the feeders, the tick-picker-offers, the referees. And at the end of the day, we are the couch snugglers, stealing sheepish smiles at one another over the fuzzy-headed friend we have taken in.

Living in Luxury

Our latest home project has involved our master bathroom. It was atrocious, and something needed to be done. So, one boring afternoon I decided to start pulling wall paper off the walls. It was really fun. That was the easiest part of the whole ordeal, honestly. Since then, and some three weeks later, we have finally finished the wall prep, the priming, the painting, the caulking and the cleaning, and the fun part begins. We get to use our bathroom again tomorrow! Whoot! Our last task today is to hang the new vanity light fixture. The old one was this darling brass/flowered/scalloped thing from 1988 that wasn't doing it for me, so it will be doing it for the garbage.

Another fun part of finishing the hard work on a room is placing the final touches. The new toothbrush holder installed, the new tp holder, the new towel bar and the placement of the new "luxury" bath mat. While at WalMart the other day, I decided our old bathmat would no longer match with the wall color, so I picked a soft plush new rug for the inaugural shower. Upon arriving home, the boys tore apart my bags inspecting every new purchase and oohing and ahhing. This is grocery day, they don't get much excitement I suppose. Miles was immediately taken with the new "luxury" bath mat. He rubbed it against his cheek and laid it out on the counter and put his head down on it. I thought it was cute, it was very soft and fluffy after all.

Imagine my surprise yesterday upon finding Miles in my bathroom. Buck naked. Laid out on the luxury bath mat. I suggested he put his clothing back on and he burst into tears. Why have that sweet, sweet luxury if no one's allowed to enjoy it? Later in the evening, I called Miles to dinner. He emerged from my bathroom without his shirt on. Maybe this novelty will wear off, but I guess everyone just wants to enjoy the luxurious new bathroom!

Can I Get a Workout?

Exercising is one of my least favorite things in life. I would much rather park my pleasantly plump hind quarters on the sofa and read, knit,watch tv, anything other than working out. There's actually lots of excuses I'll use to postpone my thirty minutes of sweating goodness; "Boy, that kitchen floor could use a scrubbing, I should whip that up. While I'm over here, I'll just throw in another load of laundry. Hey, where is that other sock? I better check the kids' rooms. Holy Mother, look at this mess! Might as well pull all this junk out from under the bed, feed the fish, reorganize this closet, make the bed. Ok, laundry's underway. Oh darn, I can't find the cd I wanted to listen to. You know, my workout mix that gets me pepped. Well, I'll just burn another one really quick. Hmmm, is it my turn in Scrabulous yet? Kay really kicked my butt on that last game, I better take my turn before I forget.... Wow, 27 emails! How many of these are spam? Let's find out. Oh, hi Miles, yes, I know I said I was going to exercise, are you going to play downstairs while I'm doing it? Well, I see my breath down here, so you'd better get your boots and coat. Hah, hah, just kidding, but definitely wear your slippers, ok? Alright, here goes... music's cranked, kid is happily playing in sight. Did I turn off the coffee maker yet? I wonder what I should make for lunch. Huff puff, sweat sweat. Doing good.... it's really not that bad once you get yourself going... Sweet Mother of Mercy, what is that SMELL? Lawd, I'm gagging with every ragged breath I gasp for, what IS that? Oh, hi Rosie, I see you needed to use your litter box right now. I know, you're situated directly in front of me about five feet away. I'm not going anywhere, but I'll look away so you can have some privacy, ok? Sweet Mother, Rosie, that's one helluva stink bomb you just dropped. Good God. Ok, I'll just hop down from the elliptical for a minute and run that litter box into the other room and close the door so that I don't suffer asphyxiation from the noxious odor in the air. Phew, ok, my legs feel like jelly, but here I go again, I'm underway. Good song. What? What Miles? Where are you headed? Oh you have to poop on the potty? Ok, go ahead, give a holler when you are done and I'll run up and clean you up. Huff puff. You done? You WHAT? I'm coming... puff puff. Let me just run up the steps and get this taken care of. Oh, nuts. You pooped in your pants. Ok, well, I see you were trying and you just didn't make it. Let's get you cleaned up. Ok, all set, I'm gonna finish up my program real quick. Ok, back on board. Only five minutes left. Lord, help me. Good song. Yay, I'm finally done. Yes, Mommy's stretching... yes, you can stretch too. Yes, this is a good stretch for the back of your legs. Oh, well, yes, that was a loud toot. Whew! It's kind of stinky too, huh? I think I'm going to finish stretching upstairs. Next to the glade plug-in. Wow, I feel good after that workout. It feels good to have that accomplished, why do I always think it stinks so bad? I feel all pumped up! Why is it so hard for me to get motivated usually I wonder?

Snowy Snowy Day

After a delightful taste of Spring here for the past two weeks, Winter has curled it's icy breath around us once again. We are in the midst of a Nor'easter, and school has been cancelled for the day. As a kid, joyous news. As a parent (specifically, the one who will be home with both children for the said snow day), a deep, soul-searching sigh. Some siblings get along famously. Some play together, sharing, laughing, watching out for one another. That does not apply to my children. My boys fight. Actually, one minute they are laughing hysterically, sharing the joy of a good poop joke, the next minute might involve blood and screaming. My six-year-old does not wish to be disturbed by his pesky three-year-old brother. He shouts in a guttural bark "Get out of my room!!". This is about the time his brother will take a lightning fast assessment of his elder brother's room, determine with speedy accuracy exactly what would push his brother to the tipping point, and brush it onto the floor in a great sweeping motion. Then he will run from the room in fear of his life, and hide under the nearest piece of furniture. This continues throughout the day, sprinkled with a few happy moments where they might sword fight with those lovely plastic swords we picked at the Dollar Store (insert self ass-kicking here). Inevitably someone will be poked and smacked too hard with the lovely plastic swords and a brawl erupts. Usually by 8am, I am sighing with relief as the school bus will be pulling up soon. I know that my son enjoys school, he will have fun, he will learn. His teachers have patience. Then, Wee Beast will have no competition for attention and he will be sweet, adorable, loving. Until the school bus rolls around at 3:30pm, and we start all over again. Well, today is the wrench in my daily routine. However, with a good dose of playing outside in the snow, a warm batch of brownies, and maybe an impromptu play dough session, I just may survive my snow day.

Christmas Trees and Potty Treats

Last week we designated as Christmas tree weekend. Saturday morning we worked with the boys to set up our tree and unpack the obscene amount of decorations we have. We primped, we strung lights, we assembled a small village, we scolded for making the ceramic lady lay on the roof of the church. We were immersed in holiday delight. Oh yeah, and we were on official day two of potty training wee beast. He enjoyed most of the festivities sans pants, but hey, he made it to the potty, so who cares, right? It was afternoon and we had one last task on our yuletide to-do list: decorate outside. It was cold. Colder than cold. So cold that we bundled Miles up (our outdoor lover), walked to the front of the house, only to have him say he was "cheewy" and was going inside. Rob looked unnerved at him being indoors alone, but I said, nah, the tv's on, he'll just hang out for a bit. Even now, writing those words I feel an icy shiver down my spine. We braved the cold wind, strung our outdoor lights and were picking up the last bits of junk when Miles was loudly talking to us through the front window. Sans pants, of course. It looked important and Rob went to check it out as I finished up. As I entered the house, I heard the washing machine going, and saw Rob stuffing our curtains in. Still in his fluffy fur-lined hat and coat, he was muttering to himself and blowing fine wisps of steam out of his ears. Apparently, while we were freezing our light bulbs off outside, Miles was experimenting with what worked best as toilet paper. He left a deposit in his potty seat, but tracked through the house leaving a trail of destruction and mess behind him. While leaning over the couch looking out the window and checking on our progress, we think he noticed he felt not-so-fresh and grabbed the nearest cleaning cloth around. My white living room curtains.

Fear not upcoming holiday guests, our house has been detoxed and cleaned. My white curtains no longer bear the stain of disgrace and our beloved beast is now successfully finishing his seventh day of potty training. He's doing really well, and I'll just have to be sure to remind him when he's married someday not to buy toilet paper curtains for his own home. Merry Christmas. And you'd better compliment my outside lights our I'll sick poop boy on you.

Ferber-izing The Beast

For most of Miles' life, he was a perfect angel at bed time. After a prompting of "time for bed, Miles", he would grab his favorite train toy and head off happily to bed. No worries. About two months ago, the Jordan household was turned upside down by the fact that the wee Jordan decided he would no longer like to go to bed. Instead, he would like to scream bloody murder so loudly that his parents feared a visit from the local officials. His parents conferred, tried different tactics, sweated, conferred again and finally decided to let wee Jordan fall asleep on the couch. He would also frequent the head of household's bed in the middle of the night. Well, the elder Jordans decided that as long as no one was screaming, everyone was sleeping, and no major problems arose, this situation would serve well for the time being. The time being is now officially OVER. For the past two weeks, wee Jordan has consistently come to bed with his parents and harassed them. He has lain sideways in an attempt to claim in territory. He has screamingly demanded that no one, under any circumstances, fall asleep. He has demanded to watch cartoons in bed at 3am. He has headbutted, kicked and in many other ways abused his loving parents and they have had enough. As of last night, at 7pm, Miles was put in his bed, told he was loved, kissed and his door was closed. After five minutes, he was reassured he was loved, but firmly told he needed his own bed. After twenty minutes, he fell into exhausted sleep. Until 2:30am ET. At this point he called out to his mother, and the whole process started again. Tonight, after only ten minutes, he fell into exhausted sleep and we shall see what the nighttime hours hold for his parents. Determined, they will follow Dr. Ferber's program, proving that they can, in fact, regain control of their dominating two year old. They will triumph in having their own bed again. And they their son will sleep blissfully once more in his own bed. Pray for the elder Jordans on their journey.

Bye Bye Binky

As some of you may know, Miles is a bink-a-holic. The kid loves binkies. A lot. Too much. WAY too much. If he sees another kid's binky laying on the floor, he immediately notices it, picks it up, ponders a while whether he should just go for it and pop it in his mouth before finally relenting and finding it's owner. For a long time we have struggled along playing his binky-centered game. Many a night a bedtime, Miles stubbornly resisted laying down, while his two exhausted, bedraggled parents searched the house on hands and knees looking for a binky, ANY binky. It could be three years old and covered in cat hair from being under the couch. No biggie, we'll wash it, Miles will go to bed. Sigh... it's been a long road. For a long time, we didn't dare leave the house without a binky stashed in one of our pockets. God forbid we are out and there's a meltdown and the only thing Miles needs to calm down is his binks. We have been chained to the darn thing.

I am announcing, that as of this morning, we are officially a BINKY-FREE household. Miles had one, sad looking, chewed up binky left to his name and he really really really really wanted a Henry train (Thomas' friend). So, I bribed him. The two of us went grocery shopping and when we were walking in, I suggested he could pick out a new train ("HENRY???!!"), if he could throw away his binky before we left the store. I explained how he was a big boy, his binky had a big hole in it from him chewing it, it was bad for his teeth... this all went over his head. He was going to get Henry, and that was all that mattered.

It was just that easy, too! We headed straight for the toy section, he picked out his new Henry, and we proceeded with the grocery shopping. He told several people he was big now and could have Henry, and they sort of smiled funny and went about their shopping. It was the BEST shopping trip I've had with Miles in a long, long, LONG time. We stopped at the garbage can at the exit, he took one meaningful suck on his beloved bink and popped it in the can. He said "Bye Bye Binky"!! And that was that.