Master?

Most children are into Disney movies or animation such as Toy Story...not M. M's fascination covers Spiderman, Harry Potter, and his biggest obsession-Star Wars. The child has every just about every lightsaber both just regular and electronic, a Millenium Falcon, a TIE fighter, an X-wing, and various action figures. However, the crème de la crème of his collection is this:

HIS DARTH VADAR HELMET.

The child's obsession has also come with role playing. His is now convinced that he is Anikan, and whichever elder individual he is around at that time is now "Master". Our conversation on the way home yesterday went something like this, "Hey Master!"
"Yes, M?"
"I am not M; I am Anikan!"
"Ok, Anikan. What's up?"
"Catch that truck, Master."
"I don't think I can do that Anikan."

I was Master all evening. Even when he wished me goodnight, I was Master. I think I liked Mama better. LOL!

Reminiscing

It's hard to believe that just three years ago, I was just now getting ready to deliver my son. In just shy of an hour, he will be three. I knew my life would be forever changed, but I couldn’t grasp just how much. As I watched him sleep on the way into town to spend the day with Memaw this morning, I couldn’t help but reminisce. I am so blessed. M has changed my life in more ways that I could ever imagine. Sometimes we get so caught up in the “parenting” aspect of being a parent that we take for granted the great little things.

Being a parent gives you the opportunity to give butterfly and Eskimo kisses (to which M makes a “ssss” sound when giving). Tickles and raspberries and squeals and laughter are a must daily. Holding your child’s hands between you and your spouse and swinging the child on the count of three only to have them start counting for you because you aren’t going fast enough is a given when walking across a parking lot. You find the time to sneak a quite look at your child sleeping peacefully. I also have the distinct pleasure of having a son who likes to play with my hair when I am holding him. (This does turn into a nuisance if you are trying to go to sleep or are getting him dressed.) It is indeed the little things that you cherish the most.

So, to my little man, happy birthday sweetie! I love you whole bunches and bunches of oats! And to B, thank you for my precious little M.

Ok, crying at work isn’t cool, so until next time....

Gutterball

So, I’m sitting here at work today, and all of a sudden, we all hear this massive noise coming from above and over by the wall. It sounds like someone is bowling on the floor above us—only they are missing the pins. You guessed it—GUTTERBALL! It turns out the center elevator in the bank nearest my side of the floor is out and they are working on it. I swear it sounds just like bowling a gutterball. (I would know this because I bowl about that well.) What is even more amusing is that every time we hear the sound, the group erupts into laughter and someone makes the point of saying in an elevated sportscaster tone—“GUTTERBALL!” See, even accountants have a humorous side too.

My Valentine Date

Well, B is yet again out of town, so I went about my typical Monday activities. This consists of leaving work a little early and rushing back to town to take M to gymnastics. We got out of gymnastics shortly after 6:30, so we headed over to the airport as I promised M last week. The plane had not arrived yet.

We sat there for a short while chatting (well, as much as you can chat to a soon-to-be 3 year old). The controllers started preparing the airport for the plane, so I knew it wasn't far out. We turned on Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and listened to the book on tape for a brief period and then I could see the light of the plane on the horizon. We watched the plane land. I explained the landing process to M and the de-planing process as well. We watched the luggage being unloaded and the plane being prepared for take off to Ponca. The plane then took off and we left the airport for the next part of our date--Walmart & "The Donalds".

We headed to Walmart where mommy picked up a couple of items, and we went to the McDonald's there where M got Chicken Nuggets and I got a Quarter Pounder w/ Cheese and onions, despite my specific request for no onions.

It was a good date--just Mommy & M. Sometimes we need that kind of bonding time with our child--just you and the child w/o the other parent.

' da plane; 'da plane...

Fantasy Island--Do you remember that show? I remember watching it with my parents vaguely. The part I remember is Tatoo yelling, “Boss, the plane; the plane!” Kids are fascinated by planes; M is no exception.

Yesterday I was running a little late to work, so I had PaPa pick up M and keep him until I got back into town. I arrived at MeMe’s and Papa’s around 6: 30 to collect M. MeMe & PaPa live on the outskirts of town just south of the airport. M & I were walking out to the truck when the ConocoPhillips shuttle jet from Houston was landing at the airport for the evening to drop off the Bartlesville passengers before heading back to the hangar in Ponca. M’s face lit up with glee. “Look, Mommy,” he exclaimed excitedly. “It’s a plane,” and he pointed his little finger up to the sky and followed the plane across the horizon. As I put him into the car seat, he commented on the plane and asked me questions repeatedly. His enthusiasm and the zeal with which he chattered about the plane made me smile. I drove down the street to the highway, and I made up my mind. The plane would not be departing for a good 15 minutes, so I drove the short way to the airplane so M could see the plane take off.

We turned into the airport and drove down the road to the ConocoPhillips hangar; I pulled into the parking lot and parked the truck and turned off the headlights. We waited patiently for the plane to take off and I explained to M what he was about to see. I cracked the window slightly so M could hear the plane engines somewhat but I didn’t want us to freeze either. A short while later, the blocks were removed from the wheel and the plane began to taxi to the end of the airport and turn to reach the runway. M’s eyes were sparkling with excitement; he chattered incessantly about the plane. He craned his neck so he could see the plane at the end of the airport, and at that point, we counted down.

5…4…3…2…1. No take off. Ok, we were a little early. After a few more seconds, the plane began to build speed and taxi down the runway until it lifted and took off. The plane rose into the sky and the eventually turned back West to head toward Ponca. I started to leave the parking lot. We discussed the take-off on the way back across town.

“Mommy, that plane was really big.”

“Well, not really, M. There are planes that are much larger than that.”

“The plane went really fast, Mommy.”

“Yes, the plane was fast, M.”

About that time, my cell phone rang. It was B. He hadn’t been able to reach us at home; I filled him in on what we had been doing and asked M if he wanted to talk to Daddy. “Yeah,” was his response. He told his daddy about watching the plane and how big it was and how fast it went. And then I heard, “You need to buy a plane for us, Dad.”

I wish! We both laughed at M, and I smiled as I told B good-bye. And then I remembered the Fantasy Island scene with Tatoo and my smiled widened. I ruffled M’s hair and told him, “Mommy loves her silly rabbit.”

I intend to take him back to see the plane land and take off again. I’m thinking we might just do that after gymnastics on Monday, and I think I’ll talk to PaPa about taking M to the air show this year.

Blemishes and black attire

A fever blister appeared yesterday evening right at the lower, left hand corner of my mouth much to my chagrin. The bad thing is that it isn't just one fever blister--it is several extremely small ones all concentrated in one area, so instead of one blemish, I have several! GROSS!

Why is it that whenever one develops a blemish, we spend a good amount of time peering into a mirror contemplating the blemish? Case in point: I just noticed that I have had my makeup compact on my desk all day and I frequently will open it and glance at the blister in the mirror and grimace. I even switched from the powder compact with the smaller mirror to the makeup compact with the larger mirror to better observe the hideous blemish. I am sure my co-workers have wondered if I am vain, but the blister feels huge, and quite frankly, it stings. It is really not that large and noticeable, but in my mind it is greatly distorted and it is irritating me. It is irritating me enough that I commented to a very close co-worker of mine how I feel like I should just don black robes and hat and paint a wart on my nose as well while this blister is around as I borrowed her Campho-Phenique. Thank heavens for nice co-workers.

Did I really just write a blog about a fever blister? That's scary.

A bad thing?

So we have been trying to get M to sleep in his own bed, and he has been doing so well. He had slept in his bed for over a week. Well, B is gone on business. Monday night, M climbed into bed with me around 3 am. Last night, he wanted to sleep with me. I attempted several times to get him to back to his room with no avail. It got down into the 20s, and I worried a little bit about the temperatures, so M slept in our room last night. Now I am worried that he is transitioning back to our bed, and we will be fighting the same battle again when B is back in town.

Toddler-eze

This age of not quite saying the proper words is just too funny. When talking with M, I find myself often reliving the scene from The Goonies when Mikey and Data are arguing about the booby traps.

"I'm setting booty traps."

"You mean booby traps."

"That's what I said--booty traps."

A lot of our conversations with M develop into this type of dialogue.

The following will be updated with new words used by M on a regular basis.

The crouton aka known as the futon. See Victory Dance.

The alligator aka known as the elevator. M has been talking about the alligators each day we have visited the hospital this week. Well tonight, I finally put two & two together. The alligator is the ELEVATOR. LOL!

Rac-a-car aka as a Race car with an extra A added in. M is developing affinity for Nascar and Nascar collectibles.

Updated: 2/16/05
Spread your pants. M says this when he is playing football. What he wants you to do is straddle and hike the ball to him.

"The Donalds". aka McDonalds where we get Chicken Nuggets...not McNuggets...just Nuggets.

Updated: 2/17/05
Eggies aka as eggs?

Updated: 3/2/05
Yo-ger-it aka as yogurt.

Victory dance

Sometimes as a parent, you have to celebrate the small victories...and often, you have to fight hard for those victories.

The scenario: Yesterday evening, we had our nephews Chase & Jarren for the evening because their mom, Angela, had to work at her 2nd job. Jarren & M both were congested and not really feeling well. Jarren laid down on M's bed to watch TV; however, M was having none of that. (Remember Chase & Jarren were there.) He and Chase and Jarren (well until Jarren laid down) played light sabers until around 8:45. The kids had pulled out the trundle and M was jumping off his bed onto the trundle. Well, being told to stop and being given several chances, M was disciplined and all the kids had to lie down. M & Chase were on the trundle, and Jarren was in M’s bed.

The background: We have been a co-sleeping family. We didn’t start out that way; it just kind of happened. Marshal never took to the bassinet; he slept in his crib from day 2 of being home until he came down with pneumonia just before his first birthday. We brought him into bed with us because we were (well, I will admit I was) initially afraid he would stop breathing. We would both sleep with our hand on his chest to make sure he was breathing. Well, then Basil moved to midnights and it was just easier to take M to bed with me, so we ended up being a co-sleeping family.

Fast-forward another year or so, and co-sleeping isn’t a good idea. Marshal was 39 inches tall the last time we had to visit Dr. Mac. 39 inches worth of sideways sleeping toddler between two adults isn’t a good thing (even if you do have a king-size bed). One of us will sleep with Marshal’s feet in his or her back (usually that was me), and the other will have his head in his or her shoulder blade area (usually Basil). So, when we moved into our new home, B & I came up with an idea. We would transition M to his bed via the futon (which M calls “the crouton”). We set the futon up in our room, and our journey began.

The transition started out with my lying down with M on the futon (I almost typed crouton there) until he fell asleep. I would then move to my bed (usually when I woke up around 12-2 in the morning). We’ve been doing this for a while. Sometimes M would sleep through the night on the futon; others, he would crawl into bed with us during the night.

Well, one of my co-workers and a few Internet chat buddies mentioned a Nanny episode on getting your toddler to sleep in their own bed. (I think it was Super Nanny?) So, last week, I stopped lying down with M on a nightly basis. I would tuck him in after reading a story and then go to our bed. M could stay up and watch TV with us if he wanted, but he had to stay on the futon and lie down while doing so. I would tell B to peek and make sure he was doing what he was told but not to make eye contact. Occasionally would have to reprimand him. By the end of the week, he was rolling over toward the wall and going to sleep on his own if he was tired.

The end of the story: M wanted to sleep in his own bed last night (well, on the trundle). Basil wanted him to come sleep on the futon. Our house has terrible windows (we are hoping to replace those with our tax money), so B was worried it would be too cold. I shot down the idea. The vent in that room is right above the place where M was going to sleep. I told B that if he woke up in the middle of the night, he could come in our bedroom. We just made sure M had enough blankets to keep him warm. When B awakened me at 4 something AM to go to work (I could have sworn I set my alarm), M was still in his bed. I went in and check on him, righted his position in his bed, and tucked him in again. I went in and told B that I would let him stay there despite B’s mentioning bringing him into our bedroom. I went to start to get dressed and I wanted to sing, “O Happy Day” so badly, but I didn’t think singing at 4 am would be looked upon favorably by my family (even if I do have a good voice).

So here I am, shouting from the rooftops inside, over a small victory. I’m not naïve enough to think this will be an every night thing, but it is a start, and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel!

Oh happy day; oh happy day.
Oh happy day; oh happy day.
The night my kid…
The night my kid…
Slept in his own bed! ALL NIGHT!

Dragon eggs & MeMe's dinner

I can't believe I'm posting about this. It's amazing that things like this are so important to us when we become parents...yep, you guessed it...potty training.

Sometime last month, M starting wanting to go potty (well occasionally). Well, I guess that his daycare taught him to say he needed to go lay dragon eggs if he needed to poop? Well, I'll take whatever works.

So last night, we went to the hospital to visit MeMe (had knee replacement surgery). We had just arrived after dietary had showed up with MeMe's dinner. Hospital food...gotta love it. *blech* Dinner consisted of: Turkey and rice soup, a roll, tea, crackers, and a lemon cake bar type thingy. The food looked really appetizing *gag*. M started out eating crackers; then he went to eating the broth from the soup. He drank a can of Shasta lemon-lime. Well, I knew he needed to go so I made him go to the potty. Now, explain to me....How does it take 5 minutes to lay dragon eggs? The kid is well on his way to becoming a man with that kind of timing. All I need to do is subscribe him to Highlights and keep them in a magazine rack in the bathroom, and he would be a boy all men are proud of.

Speaking of Highlights...Do they even still have those things?

Well, at least my annoyance was of amusement to MeMe. Lord knows she could have used some laughter while being in that drab hospital room.

So be it....Jedi.

Being a parent is so neat. It’s amazing to see a child grow from an infant into someone that can interact with you.

Yesterday, I was cooking dinner when we got back from the hospital. (B’s mom had to have a knee replacement surgery. It is my understanding they just had to do some work to her kneecap and did not have to replace the original replacement.) I guess B went outside to talk to Parker, who was back from borrowing the gas can. Well, M comes into the kitchen with his light savers (not sabers…savers) and tells me that I am Darth Vadar and we begin to fight with the light sabers. He was climbing up on to furniture and maneuvering around to fight me. He told me, “I am a Jedi Knight.” You can’t tell the kid is a Star Wars freak like his father and his uncle Bubba. LOL! When I went out to tell B dinner was ready, I told him I needed to be saved from the Jedi. He mentioned, “Oh yeah, he said he was going to train with you so he could fight Darth Vadar.” What an imagination!
My question is: how come I had to be Darth Vadar? Why couldn't I be Queen Padme Amidala? How about Princess Leia Organa Solo? No, I had to be the guy that went rogue....