Changing His Mind

We recently went to Target, otherwise known as That Store That I Can Never Leave Without Spending At Least $100.  They have an enormous spring display right now - outdoor furniture, grills, and gardening equipment.  It's almost enough to make me believe that it's actually going to be warm out soon.  Until I wake up in the morning and it's 60 degrees in the house because the furnace stopped working overnight and it's 25 degrees outside.  But I digress.
 
Sammy ran over and climbed on the furniture.  I told him to get down.  He didn't listen.  I started counting, "One....two...." and Sammy jumped down, shouting, "I'm coming!  I'm coming!  I changed my mind!"
 
I don't think I've ever made it to the count of 3.  For some reason, he is sore afraid of the countdown and I have no regrets about exploiting that fear for the time being.

This Is Why I Don't Get Enough Exercise Anymore

I recently was inspired to begin a Couch to 5K program.  Awhile back I did this and it was amazing, but then life interfered and I ended up back on the couch.  The past few months, I've been determined to get in better shape and have been doing my best to work out every day that I can.  Sometimes I do workout DVDs (30-Day Shred is my current favorite) but three nights a week, I run on my treadmill.

 

Ron had to work yesterday but I really, really wanted to do a 20-minute run.  The kids and I headed downstairs, where I set up lots and lots of toys and turned on a movie for them while I hopped on the treadmill.

 

Minute 1...so far, so good. 

Minute 2...this is almost too good to be true, still no interruptions.

Minute 3....Sam: "I have to go poop!  I have to go poop!"  He went upstairs and I followed a minute later to render butt-wiping services.

 

Back downstairs.  My heartrate is back to normal, so I figure I should start over at the beginning again (keep in mind, the first 5 minutes is a warm-up of quick walking - I hadn't even started running yet before this first interruption).

 

Minute 1 through 5...all is well

Minute 6...FINALLY, I'm actually running. 

Minute 6 1/2: Evidently someone forgot to close the door, because I hear Natalie heading up the stairs.  I'm determined to run at least one minute uninterrupted and figure I have 30 seconds before I need to go get her.  After all, she goes up and down the stairs all the time and has never fallen before.

Minute 6 3/4:  thunk thunk thunkthunkthunkTHUNK

 

I had the presence of mind to hit the "stop" button on the treadmill before charging up the stairs, since I know Sammy was likely to try to get on the treadmill the minute I step off.  After all, it would be a bit embarrassing to bring BOTH kids to the emergency room for treatment in the same night.  I charged up the stairs at full speed and found Natalie on the landing, still lying just as she had landed.  From the sound of it, she had fallen down the entire first flight of stairs, about 8 of them.  She was shirtless - pretty typical, since both my kids seem to be budding exhibitionists - and when she sat up, I could see a red spot on her shoulder where she had evidently taken the biggest hit from the fall but quick once-over revealed no broken bones.  For once it was only 4:00 in the afternoon when a potential head injury occurred.  Usually, all major falls at our house happen right at bedtime and I am then compelled to wake up the fall-ee hour upon hour for the first part of the night.  Luckily, all was well and nothing seemed to be injured but her ego.  And my will to exercise.

Potty and Potty Talk

Having the kids back in daycare is both good and bad. 

    Good: Sammy has become remotivated by peer pressure to start using the potty again.  He'd been relapsing the past few weeks but is back in underwear full-time, after only 3 days back in daycare. 

    Bad: He's now napping again (how they get him to nap, I have no clue but they should really sell their method) which means he's up until 9 or 10 at night. 

    Good: Sammy's excited to see his friends again, and it's fun hearing his tales about daycare and his friends.

    Bad:  Said friends seem to be teaching him some naughty things.  Case in point:  Last night, he pointed to his rear and said, "This is my frickin' butt".  Okay, here I have to admit my bad mom moment: I burst out laughing before I caught myself.  Then I found my composure and told him that wasn't a very nice thing to say.  That apparently didn't make much of an impression (or was cancelled out by my earlier laughter), because a few hours later the kids were playing in their room and Natalie came out crying.  Sammy was following behind her and I demanded to know what had happened.  "She pushed me," Sammy tattled.  "Why is she crying?" I insisted, expecting to hear that he'd pushed her in retaliation.  But, no.  "Because I called her a frickin' butt," he said with a grin on his face.  

Sigh.

Dinner Conversations

Yesterday at the supper table, I had my first s-e-x talk with Sammy.  After a discussion about belly buttons and umbilical cords, he brought up one of Grandma's ponies, the one who's expecting a baby this spring.  "How will that baby come out?" he wondered aloud.  I explained in rudimentary terms, but I could see the gears turning in his head so I knew that wasn't the end of it.  I was expecting the "How did that baby get in there?" question, but he threw me a softball question: "Do I have a baby in my tummy?"  And then a few minutes later, "What are nipples for?"

This seems to be the topic of the week, because we went to the zoo on Saturday and were treated to an X-rated show by the lions.   Surprisingly, even though Sammy watched intently, there were no questions asked.  This time, anyway.

Everything But the Kitchen Sink

I had just returned to my desk after a meeting today when a coworker (who I see in the halls occasionally, but have no idea what her name is) came up to me and said, "You were the person nominated to be most likely to have a safety pin".  I couldn't imagine why someone would have thought of me, but I gamely opened my desk drawer and rummaged through its contents.  Hmm...hand sanitizer, Tums, eyedrops, deodorant, toothpaste, various kinds of tea and hot chocolate, a shaker of salt...aha.  There was my sewing kit.

 

The coworker laughed at the contents of my desk drawer.  "You know what that tells me?" she said.  "You're either a madman or someone's mom." 

 

Yes, and double yes.  Guilty on both counts.  Maybe someday I'll post the contents of my purse so you can all have a good laugh at my expense.