Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Mini Meteorologist

"This weekend will be cloudy and mild with temperatures in the mid 50's and an 85% chance of me being completely wrong."

Matthew is now our in-house weather expert. He and his trusty drumstick enjoy bringing us the 7 day forecast. It may not be the correct forecast for our particular area, but what he lacks in accuracy, he makes up for in adorability (that is not really a word I know, but if it were it would mean his ability to be adorable).

*The meteorologists on the Weather Channel have been blacked out in the photos in order to protect their identity (really my camera just does that when it takes a picture of the TV, but I thought I would make it sound like I did it on purpose).

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Since I Didn't Have a Bar of Soap

Yesterday, Matthew uttered the all-naughty, super bad, "s" word. You know the one, it starts with "s" and ends with "tupid". It, of course is an acceptable word after the ripe old age of 13, but it is punishable to the fullest extent of the law beforehand. (At least, that is the way it worked in our house when I was growing up - no saying shut-up, stupid, or butt -bottom was preferred). Not that on a person's 13th birthday they are given a wrapped gift with a box containing a piece of paper that says "you may now use the word stupid when talking about rules and other inanimate objects, but with the exception of describing people", it is an unspoken rule, it is just all of the sudden not such a bad thing (my guess is as a parent of a teenager the least of your worries is your kid saying stupid). I think that may be the way things will work in our house too, I don't know when exactly it will become ok for Matthew to say that word (probably by age 22) I just know that I don't want him to use that word now. Back to the story, if the "s" word were a ship this would not be considered it's maiden voyage sailing on out of my toddler's mouth. No, this ship had sailed a few times before. The trouble with toddlers and naughty words is that the first couple of times they say it you think-- Did he just say what I think he said?-- and then you have 3 choices:

1. Punish him for possibly something he didn't really say.

2. Respond with "Did you just say _____?" and run the risk of giving him a new word if that was not at all the word he was attempting.

3. Ignore the word this time, wait and see if it is uttered again to ensure it is the offensive word you believe it to be.

I had previously chosen option number 3... until yesterday. It was completely clear and especially horrible. There was no way to deny it this time, I heard every letter of that word as if he were spelling it out, in slow motion: S-T-U-P-I-D, looking directly at me waiting for my reaction. I promptly took him to the spare bedroom so that he could serve his 2 and a half minute time out. The spare bedroom is like the Alcatraz of time outs because not only is it conveniently and cleverly located in the only room without toys it is also home to the cats' litter box. So there is absolutely no chance of him finding his way to a toy while I am not looking and no chance of escaping the smell of the litter box.
I think I may have stumbled upon a new form of discipline here. For instance, if the next time the "s" word comes to mind, he immediately thinks about stinky cat poop and opts not to use the naughty word then my plan is indeed successful. If this works I may be exploring and compiling more discipline tactics (like maybe having him clean out the litter box during a time out or eating undesirable vegetables). I may even write a book, maybe titled Alternative Discipline. Yeah, be on the lookout for that.

Monday, September 10, 2007

The Protesting Cat

This is Emma. This is what she does every time the water bowl reaches or plunges below its minimum acceptable level or if it is not as fresh as she would like. She stages a sit in of sorts. She just sits there and stares at me until the problem is remedied. I wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow she is picketing in front of the litter box with a sign that reads "Heck no, we won't go".

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Weekend Pics

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Saying Goodbye to Another Trusty Old Friend

Matthew, apparently in the mode of getting rid of all things baby, decided to be done with his womb bear this week and send him into early (not real early, just earlier than I thought) retirement. Don't worry, the womb bear received a decent severance package and will be living in the "baby closet" until another little one needs comforting (he initially wanted to use his time off to travel but has since found the closet to be quite relaxing).

Matthew tossed the bear out of the crib and when I inquired, he simply said "I don't like him anymore".

For those of you who have never heard of a womb bear, it is just a stuffed animal with a box inside that plays a recording of actual womb sounds. Don't ask me how they recorded these sounds, I just know Matthew NEEDED it when he was a baby to drift off to sleep and as he has grown a bit it helps drown out some outside noise so he can fall asleep.

This bear has been essential. He has been a part of the family since February 2005. I searched and searched to find him on the internet and payed 40 whole dollars for him. Now for those of you who know me and my spending habits, know that is HUGE (I generally don't buy anything over $10 unless it is absolutely vital to keep our hearts beating, blood pumping, and stomachs from starving).

Before the bear we had this little light that attached to the crib and it would light up and play the womb sounds when Matthew would cry. This product was great except the sounds only lasted 5 minutes and it turned on only when someone was crying. Now this was when Matthew was just a couple of months old and he would be nearly sleeping when the womb sounds turned off. I was, of course, sleep deprived, loony, and desperate to have a sleeping baby to call my own, so I would watch the clock, sprint on my tip toes, jump over the 3 squeaky floor boards into Matthew's room seconds before the 5 minute mark, and say "wah, wah, waaaah" quietly into the sensor to keep the womb sounds playing without disturbing my bundle of sleepless nights, I mean joy. Erik showed his support by laughing uncontrollably on the other end of the monitor while I was fake crying. Needless to say, I was very happy (nearly to the point of real tears) to find a womb bear with the sounds that played for 40 long luxurious minutes and could be turned on and off with the flip of a switch.

Now the bear's services are no longer necessary, my baby is growing up.......Wah, wah, waaaaah.