Babyhead - the trauma of it all

Mornings like today are the ones I live for. They are also the ones that make me pull my hair out. Fortunately, I usually find them funnier than aggravating....

A called her sister a "babyhead". And it all started. I know, I know, I totally understand - I mean, how much worse does it get than being called a babyhead? Much shrieking ensued (and yes, I will admit, acting LIKE a babyhead), with H yelling that A called her a babyhead and A insisting that she only did it BECAUSE H was BEING a babyhead (score one for A).

This went on for a few minutes while I pretended to be deaf and sipped my coffee.

S finally settled it for us though. He and his buddies had been watching Noggin and he decided to change the words from a song to be something more suitable.... so he came through singing,

"Where oh where oh where is babyhead?
Where oh where oh where is babyhead?
Where oh where oh where is babyhead?
Oh that's the babyhead THERE"

And his little finger jabbed out and pointed directly at the now screaming H. Which threw her into convulsive fits of screaming "I am NOT A BABYHEAD!!!" when in fact she very much WAS a babyhead.

But I digress.

And I admit I had a hard time not bursting out laughing. Cuz they were, after all, very much correct.

"Cloth PullUps"

Ah, three year olds.

What can I say? I either can't stop laughing or I want to strangle him.

Today was one of those mornings. When S gets something in his head, he's impossible to sway. Lately he's been wanting to wear Diego PullUps. Why I have no idea - we're closing in on a YEAR of being potty trained, and he hasn't worn them at night even for a good six months or so now. And even telling him things like "Big boys don't wear pullups, they wear underwear" or "Sorry, we don't HAVE ANY DAMN DIEGO PULLUPS" doesn't cut it.

So when he started in this morning about wanting a Diego PullUp, I wanted to PullUp all right.... pullup all my hair by the roots in frustration!!

I told him to put his underwear on, handing him a pair of cute but boring red Hanes boxer briefs.

He threw them on the floor screaming "I WANT A DIEGO PULLUP I HATE THE RED UNDERWEAR I AM NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR!!!"

I (stupidly) try to reason with him. Yeah. Like reasoning with a three year old has ever worked. But whatever. I hadn't had my coffee yet.

The fit continues. I ask if he'd like to wear his Diego underwear. I tell him he can wear his red underwear, he can wear his Diego underwear, he can go commando - I don't freaking CARE but there ARE NO PULLUPS SO STOP SCREAMING AT ME.

Only I was nice. Cuz I'm still trying to be reasonable. With a three year old.

As he's lying flat on his back hollering at me (have I mentioned I love 3yo temper tantrums?), something his dad said smacked me in the head..... so I looked at him and said "HEY! Do you want a CLOTH Pullup??"

BAM! Tantrum OVER!

He jumped up, all full of smiles and said "YES! A CLOTH pullup would be GREAT!!"

So I handed him his Diego underwear and told him to put them on. And he said "THANK YOU Mommy!!" as he put on his underwear - wait, scuse me - cloth pullup that only moments before he'd been screaming refusals about.

I'm still not sure who conned who there.

the one in which my brother laughs back

My brother and his significant other (whom we all ADORE) visited last weekend. Aside from having to face the pumpkin patch with A's kindergarten class and a RAGING hangover, I very much enjoyed their visit.

My brother called the day after they got home, asking for laundry advice. Apparently he washed J's white LuLu jacket with one of his red shirts and the jacket was now pink. I wished him luck and gave him a couple of suggestions, including just fessing up to her and maybe she liked pink!!

Several phone calls later, the jacket was still pink and all options were exhausted. He admitted defeat and said he was going to tell her and buy her another.

In the end, he called back laughing. Turns out the jacket was pink all along!! I laughed pretty hard at this.

But he got me back.

The carpet in the kids playroom has been getting stinkier, so I went up there after dark with my stinkfinder light, intending to find all the spots that needed some extra attention when I scrubbed it today. Figured I'd circle them with a washable marker that I use when I sew and it would simply shampoo out.

First marker didn't leave marks, so I went downstairs in search of a thicker marker (and you ALL know where this is going, don't you!).

Found a bright blue on in the cupboard. Scribbled on my hand - PERFECT. Went upstairs and tried again. It still wasn't great, but I found if I made several circles around the spot, it showed up well.

So I spent half an hour crawling around drawing blue circles on the carpet. I was pretty pleased with myself when I went in to wash the marker spots off my hand.

Except.....

the blue didn't wash off.

Because....

some idiot (ME!) didn't check to make sure it was a freaking WASHABLE marker. And good ole Murphy and his damn law made sure I grabbed probably the ONLY non-washable Crayola marker in this entire house.

SERIOUSLY! How did this happen? I mean, I have little kids here all week and they love to color! And I KNOW better than to allow any non-washable markers in this house!! I literally have STACKS of brand-new Crayola washable markers in the cupboard (hey, gotta stock up when Target puts them on for $1 at Back to School time!), yet I manage to grab one that isn't washable?

And yes, it was Crayola.

My brother thought it was pretty funny.

And today I will be scrubbing blue ink from the carpet and reminding myself not to yell at the next child who writes on the floor..... ;)

Karma..... it'll get you every time.

Literally Three

I love my son, I really do. Even when he talks nonstop and I want to scream "PLEASE! Just give Mommy ONE MINUTE of silence, okay???".

Why?

Because he's funny.

Last night he was stalling on going to bed, so I picked him up and said, "Do you want to know something?"

He looked at me all serious and deadpanned, "Nope. I want to YES something!"

How can you not laugh? :)