The Day That Cookie Monster Went Down

The Victim

Count N' Crunch Cookie Monster

Cookie Monster loves to munch on the 3 cookies that he came with, along with other various household items. Pretty much anything that can fit in his mouth.

The Cause

The Gem

The Gem is a costume jewel that my father gave to my kids as a "prize". It was included in a small treasure chest filled with fake gold coins. Every time he sees them he wants to give them "prizes", as he calls them. My house is filled with these miscellaneous "prizes" and stuffed animals from him that they love. Put it this way . . . my kids are 19 months and just shy of 3,  if I keep all these "prizes", by the time they are 4 and 5, I'll easily look like a hoarder. Anyway, The Gem is a favorite. It's a pocket sized, choking hazard that causes me to turn into Nazi Mom when it's in use. (Probably the reason they like it more). I'm constantly telling them not to put the gem in their mouths. Luckily neither one of them are very oral kids, or they wouldn't have it at all.

When my kids woke up this morning I could tell it was going to be one of those days. The morning rain and lack of naps lately was taking it's toll. We bounced from one activity to another in attempts to keep them busy and happy. From play-doh to coloring books to water color paints, to Cookie Monster and The Gem. My youngest got out all of her dancing/musical animals including Cookie Monster. After shoving the 3 cookies in his face my kids proceeded to find other things that would fit in his mouth. They found various foods from their kitchen set, attempted a plastic spoon, and some peeled off crayon wrappers that they apparently picked off and hid under the couch during the coloring activity. As my oldest was attempting to spoon feed Cookie the shredded, purple crayon coverings, The Gem slipped from her fist and into his mouth. As Cookie was yelling out "There must be some cookies in my backpack!" Lanie was yelling out, "You give me back my gem! NOOWWWW!" It was stuck. Before I could get over there to help retrieve her prized possession, she threw the Cookie Monster across the room, ran over and started stomping on it. 

She is not an aggressive kid by any means, and we've gone down the whole no kicking, pinching, hitting, hurting, throwing road before. She knows that stuff like that is not okay. Let's be honest though, toddlers are fickle. They can turn from the sweetest little people into tiny tornadoes at the drop of a hat. This was a definite tornado moment . . . I understand that The Gem was at stake, but whoa. My youngest was laughing hysterically and cheering her on. 

As Lanie is basically beating the crap out of Cookie Monster, I run over and take it away. I tell her "I don't like that behavior at all, all you need to do is ask for help and I'll help you. Use your words!" We'll now the sh!t really hits the fan, because during the Cookie Monster beat down, the gem gets stuck in his mechanical face. I now tell her that she can't play with Cookie Monster or The Gem, cause he ate it.  Her response: "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry to you too, Cookie Monster. I really hope you poop out that gem soon." I spent most of rest time retrieving the gem from Cookie's mouth with a screw driver. I hid it in a cabinet for safe keeping, and maybe I'll bring it out some other rainy day. 

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The Heat Is On, Woooo Hoooo!

This past week we have experienced a pre-summer heat wave and I have to be honest, I love it. Just give me a beach chair, my gated off deck, and a kiddie pool and my kids and I are good to go. I live for Summer and anything that keeps my kids occupied for more than 10 minutes. Wait . . . I take that back . . . not anything.

Tuesday it rained. My kids found the musical instruments that I hid and sat on the couch for three hours straight playing harmonicas. I posted a picture of them tooting away on my facebook page titled: 

"FREE! (for the day) They'll bring you hours of entertainment! (Trust me I know.)"  

That photo got lots of "likes", but unfortunately I had no takers. The only thing that dragged them away from their dueling harmonica battle was when the laundry cycle finished. 

My crappy dryer broke, and while waiting for a part to be replaced I've had to air dry everything. Call me crazy, but this just seems like a better alternative than packing up my kids and all of our wet clothes and going to a laundromat. Just the thought of that seems more torturous than harmonicas. Four people tend to accumulate lots of laundry. Especially when two of the four will often paint themselves with yogurt rather than eat it. I'm not really sure why we keep giving it to them . . . oh right, 'cause it's healthy, and my kids constantly ask for it (probably because it's fun to paint with) and we are the suckers who keep buying it.

Anyway, as I'm trying to find places to hang and drape all the wet clothes I hear my oldest yell "SPIN CYCLE!" She had captured the cat and wanted to give him a "bath". This is not the first time this has happened, and luckily he escaped the washing machine. Sadly, his luck ran out later in the week. I had set up a bath for my kids and Lanie placed him in the bathtub right before my eyes. This was not a first for him, and the twisted thing is that he actually seems to like baths. This strikes me as odd, but maybe he's just use to it.  

After dealing with harmonicas and cat baths, I was excited when the hot weather hit mid week. I dug the kiddie pool out of my garage as my kids cheered me on. This was a total rock star moment, and from that point on I knew I was totally owning the day. That has been my salvation for the rest of the week. They don't get bored of it, plus it gives the cat a bit of a break since he stays indoors.

I had filled it with water bright and early one morning. As I was changing Charlotte into her bathing suit, Lanie ran over to the back door and opened it. Before I could yell for her to wait a minute she jumped in . . . pajamas and all. I didn't even care. I love summer.

Just for the record (actually, keep it out of the record books), I'm the A-hole who popped the pool by accident this afternoon when I hit it with the corner of the backdoor. First thing on tomorrow's agenda - shopping for a new kiddie pool.

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Along Came A Spider and Traumatized My Kids

Along came a spider and sat down beside her and traumatized my kid for the rest of the day. Actually both of them, but for different reasons.

Today was the perfect spring day, birds chipping, flowers blooming and sunshine. We were all aching to get outside and enjoy it. My kids chose to go for a wagon ride.

I live in a hilly, wooded area which can make pulling them around a challenge. I don't mind though, the kids love it. Plus, people will often stop me to chat and say things like "Wow!", "That looks tough!" or "Good for you!". I often get the same remarks when I push my kids around in the double stroller. I don't really know what the big deal is, but their comments make me feel like I should be among the top ranking contenders for mother of the year. All for doing typical mom things like going for walks. I don't know, maybe I look like I'm dying doing it . . . which is quite possible. The hardest part of our walks is my driveway. We call it "The Mountain".  It's very steep and makes for great sledding in the winter.

Today, as I was using all my strength to safely cart my kids down The Mountain in their Radio Flyer, it dawned on me that I forgot to switch over from my flip flops to my sneakers.  A big mistake . . . walking these hills in flip flops is even more of a challenge than pulling my kids around. My first response was "UGHHH". My oldest asked, "What's wrong Mommy?".  I explained to her that I should have changed my shoes before heading out. Her response was, "But Mommy, I love those flippers of yours. Let's just go!".  I agreed. I didn't really want to hike back up The Mountain to change shoes. So off we went.

We walked to a house in the neighborhood that has a pony in the backyard. Lanie loves neighing at the pony and Charlotte loves mooing at it. We ventured on down the road a little further when all of the sudden I heard the most ear piercing scream of panic that I have ever heard in my life. It was Charlotte. I whipped myself around thinking that she may have pinched her fingers in one of the buckles keeping her strapped in, but that was not the case. A spider (half the size of a dime) was crawling on the top side of the wagon. She was staring at it in disbelief and shrieking every time it moved. It was the type of shriek you would hear from someone getting eaten in the movie Jaws. 

I began to explain to her that it was just a tiny spider and not a big deal at all, next thing you know it jumps onto my oldest daughter's sweatshirt. Now I thought, oh crap . . . this thing's a jumper and I'm going to have two kids freaking out over a tiny spider. I made the quick move of taking my flip flop off and brushing the spider off of Lanie's sweatshirt and onto the ground. As I put my shoe back on, my kids were dangling over the side of the wagon looking for the spider. There it was, on the ground, dead. My youngest started clapping, while my oldest began to cry. "Oh no! That was my friend! I don't like your flip'n flipper shoes anymore!"  

I would personally like to wish all the other moms out there the best of luck in the mother of the year contest. I have officially withdrawn myself from the rankings. I killed a spider. . .

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My Job as Referee

Having my kids fairly close together has certainly had it's perks. With Lanie being 2.9 and Charlotte being 16 months, a mere 16 1/2 months separates them. They laugh together, play together, read books together . . . they are best friends . . . and sometimes worst enemies.


DING DING DING

Round 1: While playing a game of run around the kitchen island my youngest slips causing the rug underneath the kitchen sink to slide out of place. My oldest yells "OH NO, you tell that rug you are sorry! You hurt it. That makes me and the rug very sad." My youngest can sense her harsh tone and glares at her while I try to explain to Lanie that it's just a rug and it's really okay. I say "instead of worrying about the rug let's make sure Charlotte is okay". I probably should have been more focused on teaching them not to run in the house, but who am I kidding . . . I'm no Carol Brady. "Mom always said don't play ball in the house" as Marcia gets hit in the face with a football. It's been a long winter so in my opinion occasional laps around the kitchen island and balls in the house are fine by me . . . well, as long as they are nerf balls.

DING DING DING

Round 2: My oldest is fuming that my youngest will not say sorry to the rug. She grabs some plastic silverware out of her play kitchen and proceeds to bang on Charlotte's head saying "If you don't say sorry I'm going to turn your head into a drum. Look Mommy, Charlotte's head is a bass drum!" I yell out "LANIE, NO. Now you need to say sorry to Charlotte. Banging on peoples heads with silverware is not okay." Before I could get over there and grab the plastic spoons from her hands my youngest grabs her by the knees and over she goes. I'm not sure where this behavior came from, but trust me when I say I want to be raising young ladies, NOT WWF wrestlers. 

While I question how Lanie even knows what a bass drum is and how Charlotte learned the armbar legsweep, I get their activity table out along with some paper and stickers. It was clear to me that they really needed some time to sit down and relax. The stickers were such a big hit that when we ran out I was just as disappointed as they were. During my unsuccessful attempt to find more I had the bright idea of using band-aids . . . they stick, right? So I gave them each two band-aids and said "after we stick these, that's it". I figured that the process of unwrapping them would buy me a bit of time.

DING DING DING

Round 3: My oldest unwrapped her band-aids quickly and stuck them on her paper. My youngest chose not to open hers at all and was content just holding them. That did not bode well with my oldest. She could not understand why Charlotte did not want to open her band-aids and attempted to "help her" by grabbing them away. And there they go . . . the screams. The screeches from both of them that are just SO loud. (For those that have read my previous blogs you may remember they had gotten the label of "The Screeching Sisters" at the play place.) The screeches then turned into laughs and I had a instant headache. As quickly as they were worst enemies they were BFF's all over again.

Arguments about saying sorry to rugs, plastic spoons, and band-aids are probably pretty minor in the big picture. Someday I'll most likely be breaking up fights over using the phone, clothes and stealing boyfriends . . . I can only imagine what those screams are going to sound like.

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