The have promise

Post Easter Post

We went to San Antonio this weekend. All of us. Including the dogs. The trip down went smoothly; Tyson peed on the side of the road twice and had no accidents in the car. Dare I say that we are potty trained??

Here is a picture highlight of our 4 days:

Thursday
We went to Chick-fil-A.
Stuart fixed my dad's car.
Sat around the house.
Day one of spoiling.



Friday
More sitting around.
I went to lunch with a really good friend and had chocolate. Yum.
We went to the Friday night service at church. Awesome.
Went to dinner with Stuart's dad, Jan, Steven & Misty & Gracie.
Went to Steve and Jan's house after the boys were in bed for some grown-up family time.
Day two of spoiling.



Saturday
Went to Jeffrey & Sarah's house for food, fun and egg hunting.
I went to a gorgeous outdoor wedding (where we all froze) and saw a ton of old friends. (It was sooo good seeing Rebecca, Brittany and her fam and of course the bride, Jessica!)
Went out with Steven, Misty and Justin. Good food, good drinks, good family and friend.
Day three of spoiling.



Sunday
Hunted eggs indoors because it was raining outdoors.
Packed up and headed home.
Day four of spoiling.

Happy Easter!

Rookie

I made a mistake.
I made a BIG mistake.
I made a BIG rookie mistake.

Yesterday in my steam-coming-out-of-my-ears-push to do all things domestic and get ready to leave town, I didn't put the boys down for a nap. What was I thinking? Come on. No nap? It started as if I don't put them down for a nap, maybe they will fall asleep sooner in the car and sleep a little while longer before getting to Mimi's house and thus making the transition from sleeping to seeing-Mimi-and-Peepaw-waking better. Obviously this didn't happen.
While my laundry list of things to do included finishing, folding and putting away 5 loads of laundry; cleaning the bathroom; dusting the house; vacuuming (because we doesn't relish in coming home to a pine-sol, soft scrub, pledge smelling house?); removing all road-side bombs from the backyard; picking up the backyard so that if a stray neighbor were to pop his head over our fence he would be amazed at how tidy my kids keep things and thus deduct that I have the best dedication for teaching my kids the art of picking up; removing all trash from my house (again for smelling reasons); AND THEN packing for our 6 hour trip. I had some things to get done. I foolishly thought that by keeping my children awake I could 1) get things done without waking them since some of the things needing to be done would wake them and 2) I was still thinking about that 6 hour trip looming over our heads. Rookie.
So they stayed awake.
And then graced us with a look at their tonsils all thru 281 S.
We did however have some brief moments of solitude when listening (us)/watching (them) to "Monsters Inc.," "Wall-E," "Dumbo," and "The Little Mermaid." Have I mentioned that I LOVE our portable DVD player? So we made it in at 12:02 am and the boys finally got put in bed about 12:30 am but not before Tyson had a full on tantrum because he wanted to "stay up till morning." Ha! Silly rabbit, Tricks are for kids!

It's all about the numbers

Today we leave for San Antonio for 4 days. In that time span we will meet and greet with Hud (a friend whom the boys have not met but although he's 2 years younger than Tucker is about the same size, this should be fun to watch), eat at Chick-fil-A (can I just say how incredibly beside myself I am at the thought of Chick-fil-A? You have no idea how rotten it is that WF does not have this fine-dining experience), hunt some eggs at Aunt Sarah's house, see all the Doss family cousins, see Aunt George, gets a ridiculous amount of spoiling from Mimi and Peepaw, go to Jessica's wedding (yahoo!), see some animals at kids at the wedding, make all the kids at church feel inferior to my children's adorable, yet grown-up and daddy like Easter outfits and eat way too much food. {smirk}
It all makes for cocktail of chaos and I know it will take a week for the boys to come down from their SA high and drop back down to earth only to be smacked in the head with naps, and non-sugar foods and gasp, a bed time (oh my I am a mean mommy).
So while I should be packing and cleaning and getting ready to leave my house for 4 days, I am instead writing about it. I really like to sabotage myself. But seriously who wants to pack? Not only do I have to over pack for myself (which is quite comical since half the time while in SA I wear my mother's clothes. While we are on the subject, how messed up is it that I am wearing my mother's clothes? Hmm.) but I also have to pack the boys AND the two dogs AND start packing Stuart's stuff; only to have him come home, empty out his bag, riffle thru all the neatly folded items that I have packed away, and toss (literally) things from his closet and drawers into an already over-stuffed bag, later to proclaim, "Where do I put my laptop?," and "Did you get my deodorant?," or "Did you pack my underwear?," and always "We have too much stuff."
It's an obnoxious balancing act and quite frankly I still want to invent "the house shrinker" so that when I need to go out-of-town, I can merely shrink my house and it's contents, put them in my purse and have everything at my fingertips at my beck-and-call (much like my phone...ahh...waiting in line at Wal-Mart has a whole new meaning).

Shout outs:
The brain (more importantly the part that controls the urge to pee and poo)-peeing in the potty is beyond words.
My phone-the touch screen, access to everything including but not limited to my virtual world, the QWERTY board, you amaze me really.
Watermelon-seedless, red, juicy, fantastic.
Portable DVD Player-trips would be forever impossible. Thank you for your service.

Why is it that a husband wants to cuddle at 6:33 am after his alarm clock has been snoozed twice, only waking the hand of the husband that hits the snooze button and royally pissing off the wife that wakes the millisecond the alarm starts to murmur at 6:15 am and having already been woken by her son at 5:52 am to refresh her memory that he's still thirsty from 9:48 pm the previous night and the aforementioned husband still has to take a shower and be out the door by 7 am in order to get to the job that he still has by 7:30 am? Why would this be a convenient time?
And what the heck is up with an overnight low of 25 degrees?
I.do.not.get.it.

Busy Braums

So who knew that Tyson would take to potty training so well?? Not me! It's been a week now (I think) and my boy is doing fabulously. I don't know what triggered him to really want to go, but now we have been wearing underwear exclusively (no pull-up because daddy doesn't wear a pull-up) and he's only had three real accidents. This weekend he was accident free, even out in public. I would call that a home run! But this potty business is also expensive. Our original offer, last year mind you, was gum for going peepee and ice cream for going poopoo. This bribe never really worked during my first million attempts at potty training but now it's on in all it's glory. I don't mind the gum so much. Tyson gets a piece, chews it for like 5 minutes and then says "he's done" and throws it away. I think the lack of flavor and force in which you must use to chew the gum makes it loose it's awesomeness. But the ice cream...now there's a gold mine. The first day that Tyson went #2 in the potty, I called Stuart at work and he brought Braum's home. Now, that particular "store" is the only thing that will do. Yesterday we went to Braum's not once, not twice, but...(wait for it)... THREE times. The boy poo'ed three times. All in the potty. And I drove to Braum's (which just happens to be one block from our house) three times to get a junior cone with a strawberry scoop. I'm not complaining, really. I just think Braum's should know about their amazing luck with making my child poo and then maybe setting us up with some free ice cream or something. Just a thought.
Oh, and this morning (from 6:45 am-the present) he has peed three times in the potty and yes, poo'ed in the potty already. Stuart will be bringing the bribe home again. What a guy!
That was pretty much the weekend. Potty, pee, poo, Braums. (Oh and my sister's birthday was Saturday. She's an old woman now!)

My BIG Underwear-wearing Boy

Monumental Victory

Tyson went poopoo in the big boy potty this morning!!!
Holy wow, I haven't been this excited about something in a long, long, long time! Is that weird?

Happy 2nd Birthday to Chase B.! Kuddos to your mama for carrying you in her tummy for nine months then pushing you out of her uterus without medication, at home, on top of a shower curtain. It's your day pal! ;)
Love you AB!

Aprils

April 1, 2006
Tyson 6 months

April 1, 2007
Tyson 18 months, Tucker 2 months

April 1, 2008
Tyson (right) 30 months, Tucker (left) 14 months


April 1, 2009
Tyson 42 months, Tucker 26 months

Tiny Victory

As you already know, potty training and I have had quite a tumultuous relationship. We're working on it, but I still accuse him of being ridiculous and he accuses me of not having patience. We're both right.
Yesterday we had a teeny, tiny victory. Ha, take that potty training! When Tyson got up, I changed his night time diaper and told him flat out that we were going to put big boy underwear on. He fussed a bit, but then the light bulb went off and he proclaimed, "Daddy wears big boy underwear!" (If you haven't noticed the boy is ALL ABOUT DADDY)
"Yes!"
"And daddy goes peepee in the big boy potty. And daddy wears flip flops. And daddy's a boy."
"That's right booger."
So we unearthed the big boy underwear, slipped them on and paraded in front of Tucker because if anyone would want to wear something Tyson is wearing, it would be Tucker. And thus went the morning-accident free! I'm not sure you quite understand the gravity of this. Tyson wore cloth underwear, such that if he went to the bathroom the contents of his bowel and bladder would end up soaking thru the previously noted cloth apparatus and end up on his legs and the floor. No such thing happened. :)
Stuart came home for lunch and Tyson was all to ready to show his daddy his accomplishments. It was a good lunch. Then Stuart left. {slow breath thru nose}
10 minutes after shutting the door, Tyson walks in from the playroom and informed me that he went potty. In his big boy underwear. Peepee. And poopoo. Nice. So I stripped him down, cleaned him up and made him watch while I cleaned his mess in the toilet, all the while explaining how gross and yucky and icky it was and how it wasn't nice to potty in his underwear because mommy has to clean it up and see?? It is GROSS.
After his nap we put on underwear again because he was adamant about it. Ok, I can do this. I can do this. He went all afternoon dry as toast. And even peed outside twice (why this is so alluring for boys I have no clue, but daddy does it so he must therefore follow as well). THEN we went out of the house to run errands and he wore his underwear. I was prepared with two extra shorts, diapers and a towel. NO accidents. {huge breath}
Today we had an accident this morning and now he's in pull ups because all three pair of big boy underwear are in the washing machine. I guess we'll be going to purchase some more tonight.
We're taking very small, almost invisible steps but this child MUST be potty trained by the time he's four. Seriously. Heaven help us when we get to Tucker.

I have many

eccentricities. I am fully aware that at times people think I have totally fallen off my rocker (I tend to think that I was never really on my rocker but po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe). To help you see the light, I have compiled a list, in no particular order and not in entirety of what I refer to as my world.

-The toilet paper roll has to be placed on the holder so that the paper is pulled down from the top, not the bottom of the roll. If I am at someone's house, I will probably fix this if it's wrong.
-After the bed has been made, it need not be sat on till it's time for bed again. This is a major problem since my dogs live in the bed 90% of the day.
-My clothes are color coordinated in the closet according to use: long, fancy dresses; church dresses; skirts; nice pants; casual pants; tank/sleeveless tops; casual short sleeve tops; dressy short sleeve tops; casual long sleeve tops; dressy long sleeve tops; jeans; bulky sweaters. I know, it's a but all over the place but I had to give in a put them away in order of function and reach ability since we have old closet doors. This does get to me sometimes. (I kinda feel like Monica from Friends with her 27 types of towels. That was a good woman)
-I dispise having "things" sit out on top of the dressers. I like decorations (I becoming more of a fan of fewer things) but not all the stuff that Stuart empties out from his pockets and whatnot. This is why he has a drawer, two baskets and a garage. Put it somewhere else.
-The dishes DO go in the dishwasher a proper way. This allows for maximum space loading and does make the dishes look nice while they are in there.
-I am a huge fan of rotating-clothes, socks, underwear, dishes, towels, washcloths; if it's used multiple times it will be rotated.
-Stuart's garage makes my skin crawl. No organization. Lots of grease. Tools not put away.
-The shower curtain needs to be closed when the shower is not in use. Looks better.
-I love throw pillows. My husband does not. This is a cause for many evil looks.
-I can not stand when dishes are laid next to the sink and not in the sink when dirty. The sink has a faucet and washes things down it. The counter does not.

That's me. :)

What's keeping us alive

What is going on??

Dear Weather Man,
OK, I give.
What in gracious name are you doing to me? Or more particularly, Wichita Falls. I understand that I live in peanut shell, Podunk-ville, no Dairy Queen, no Chick-fil-A, Texas State Hospital (yes, you ARE thinking of the right kind of "hospital") housing Wichita Falls, but come on! I can't do much more of this. Three days ago I had all my windows open, fans circulating fresh, cooling air and children yielding shorts and flip flops. Today I awoke to snow. Snow! This can not be normal. And now I have my heater on. 3 more days till April and I have my natural gas heater on. In Texas.
Please help me.

Sincerely,
Crazy, frozen, stuck in the house, children climbing the walls with snot dripping down their chins Mom

He is his father's son

Poop

That's right. Poop. Or stink-o's. Maybe yuckies. My life revolves to a major degree around bowel-producing nastiness that comes in a variety of colors, textures, and fragrances. Do you have the mental picture?
Tyson is 3 1/2 years old and STILL wears a diaper. Gasp. I know. He quite adamantly refuses to use the potty (except for a couple of break throughs recently) and I am working up the courage and patience to make him. It's quite a process. Tucker is 2 and just started talking so potty training is going to have to wait on him as well (although I have a suspicion that as soon as Tyson starts using the potty with frequency Tucker will want to follow suit for nothing more than to be like his brother). SO on any given day we (and I say "we" liberally) change 6-8 vomit inducing, nose plugging, dozen wipe using diapers.
To add to this mix, we have two large beasts that also happen to defecate, they just happen to do it outside. The boys and I have a little game that we play in order to eradicate the backyard of poopoos: every time that we go outside to play, I pick up the road-side bombs so that they don't end up on shoes, fingers or tire wheels. It's quite an undertaking actually. As soon as the boys are dressed, they run outside to search while I put my clothes on. In the 2 minutes it takes to put my contacts in, change into something more un-I-just-rolled-out-of-bed, grab my phone, grab two bags and turn off lights inside (trying to save on that electric bill...) the boys successfully locate all threats and are waiting at attention to reports their findings. Tucker really gets into this game. As soon as he spots me walking to the door, he runs down the steps pointing and saying, "poopoo, poopoo." I follow and within a matter of minutes the yard is free of all offending matter. Now if only my dogs could understand this game. They invariably will relieve themselves minutes after the yard is clean and I have taken the trash to the dumpster. Which then spurs on another bought of Tucker running around, pointing and saying, "poopoo, poopoo." The trick is if I don't head his warnings fast enough, he will attempt to remove the squishy log, thereby dropping it and run to me to show me the damage that has been done to his hands. Gross.
So this is how we spend our days, around the eternal poop clock. Fun isn't it?