Dear Anyone Trying to Call Me,

My cell phone is staging a silent protest. I don't know what it wants from me. It refuses to charge. At first I thought it was my charger. So I tried my old charger, though it was defective and didn't always work either. I then decided that the old one was probably just too messed up to work at all. So tonight, I took the kids out in the yard to play and put the phone in the van on the car charger. I know that charger works just fine, so I'm left assuming it's the phone itself that hates me. The battery is currently dead and I have no way of bringing it to life, so, I'll be unreachable until at least sometime tomorrow.

Okay, you can reach me now! You can't reach Michael though, because they accidentally cut his phone off in the process, and now they apparently can't figure out how to turn it back on. Lovely.

I think my brother is giving Aaric lessons in evil

I say evil, because that's Mikayla's adjective that she thinks best fits Aaric. Last Sunday, when I was a bad mom and forgot to give her the run down on how her first Sunday going to the big Children's Worship in the fellowship hall work (their Sunday School teacher takes them down to the fellowship hall and leave them there, and she had no clue that it would happen, and that I wouldn't be involved in the process), she sat and cried and then talked with one of our friends, who was leading their service that day. That might have been a bad run-on sentence. Oh well. (<-- fragment. I can't help it, I've been influenced by Mikayla's reading books. I'd type up a story here, if it weren't copyright infringement. They drive me crazy.) Anyway, this friend asked me yesterday if I knew that Aaric is evil. I said "yes, and here's an example." And then I told him the following story:

Wednesday night, I was getting ready to leave for church, and told the kids to stay inside while I finished up. I heard a door, but we're late every single Wednesday night, so I just rushed to finish up. Aaric came running up to me gleefully, and chirped, "Mom! Mikayla is outsi-ide." You know, nice and sing-songy, clearly enjoying the trouble that Mikayla was about to get into. I was dressed, so I went down and looked at the back door. It was locked, but the back gate was open. Interesting. I sure thought it was the back door that I heard open up. No Mikayla, though. So, I went to the front door, went out, and saw her ringing a neighbor's doorbell. I called her home, and asked why she was over there. "Aaric locked me out!" Oh. Well, that makes more sense. I covered the fact that we also have a doorbell, and that if she's locked out, the logical solution would be to ring the doorbell at our house, not skip off to play with friends. Aaric smirked. My brain has blocked out all the other evil things he'd already done that day, but suffice it to say that he was not exactly on my good side to start with.

But yes, he saw her go out, and then locked the door to ensure that she'd have to leave the fenced back yard in order to get back in, thus maximizing her chances of getting caught. I think that's a fairly diabolical plan for an 8 year old to come up with. Which is why I'm sure it's something Larry suggested to him. Or it could have been Uncle Paul. Both of them are well known for their meanness toward their little sisters. Except that Aunt Becky and I never did anything to deserve such treatment, and Mikayla definitely does.

So, Xander did indeed turn two.

I didn't forget, I just procrastinate. You all know that by now.

I've forgotten what we did that day, though. Or, you know, the day that we pretended it was his birthday.

What I do know, is that I made a cake. This cake, to be exact. It was yummy. We put sprinkles on top, and I left out the nuts. Xander insisted on putting the candles in there himself, and blew on them non-stop, before they were even lit. I took pictures, and I'll upload them one day. Maybe by Christmas. I think I only got a couple of them. When you're the only adult in the house with 3 kids, and there is chocolate cake with flames on top of it, getting a picture taken just takes the backseat in the list of priorities. Not burning the house down or having a chocolate covered kitchen both come first.

He also went in for a check up yesterday. I was going to cancel it, since we're in the midst of switching doctors anyway, but then he had a temperature of 104 degrees Thursday night, so I felt like we should go in to get his urine checked just in case. He thankfully did not have another UTI. He is continuing to live up to his title as The Runt of the family. Not only was he born smaller than the other two, but at 2 years old, his height is in the 20th percentile. Aaric and Mikayla both stay within the 75th to 90th percentiles! It's no wonder this kid's size 18 month pants still fit him just fine, he's a shorty! He was 35 inches tall and 28 pounds.

Now, it's time to go get stuff done and turn off the TV. Because Aaric just came upstairs to tell me that it's settled, we HAVE to get the Shark Steam Mop, because it IS the best mop on the market. They would not risk losing that much money by lying to people about it, you know. And they tested it out in a mall and people were amazed.

Also, Xander just informed me that he pooped on the floor. Will a Shark Steam Mop clean that up? Will it do it without me having to get too close to the mess? If so, I might reconsider.

Someone Rescue Me

Aaric won't shut up about the totally awesome features of Blu-Ray, and feels that I should be out buying the necessary electronics and discs immediately. It's a matter that I'm apparently not nearly concerned enough about.

Last week, it was the Shark Cordless Steam Mop that we Had To Buy. Both kids insisted that this was an absolutely necessary purchase. And you know, it can be yours in just 4 easy installments of $19.99, and if you aren't fully satisfied, you can return it within 90 days, and keep the carpet deodorizer for free.

Before that, it was ShamWOW! cleaning towels. I couldn't seem to make them understand, that these incredible towels wouldn't just walk themselves out of the cabinet/drawer and into the bathroom and start scrubbing. They do require a human to actually get them out and use them. And I'm perfectly happy with my $1/pack rags, thanks.

Speaking of scrubbing, more than once, they've told me I need to buy some of the various scrubbing bubbles cleaners. They take those commercials way too literally.

Also, frighteningly, both big kids have been observed trying to figure out what my PIN is for my debit card. And they wonder why I don't let them have much internet time! They're suckers for advertisements, and are becoming increasingly aware of how these plastic cards work!

Politically Incorrect

...some conversation that I can't remember, as usual, but something about a president came up...
Mikayla - Yeah, well, if I were president, every day would be negro day.
Me - Um, see, Mikayla, we don't really refer to them as negroes anymore.
Mikayla - But I will make every day negro day.
Aaric, sighing and rolling his eyes - Mikayla, the times have changed. We don't need a negro day. Mar, um...
Me - Martin Luther King
Aaric - yeah, Martin Luther King has already made lots of speeches and done lots of marches.
Mikayla, interrupting as usual - Aw man! No fair, he got to be president before me!


Speaking of "aw man..."
So, little quick version is that after the skull fracture and my being away from Xander, and then my pregnancy progressing, it all led to a downward spiral that ends with me having very little milk supply left and his latch getting a bit lazy. Now that it actually hurts every time he tries to nurse, I've given up. Philosophically, I'd love to keep going. Physically, I'm done. He still asks a couple times a day, which just breaks my little heart. So, the other night, we're in bed and he says, "mama, I want nursey." And I sigh, and say, "I know honey. But it hurts when you do. You never open up wide anymore, and it's owie, and I don't want to. I don't want to nursey." He let out a big sigh as he flopped back and said, "aw man!"
That kid is a nut.
And, yes, I'm aware of the date. I'm declaring tomorrow his birthday. I'm his mother, I can do that if I want. This year, his birthday is on the 16th. The only thing he knows about the calendar is that it's paper with squares. And since today was rough, I decided to just pretend it's tomorrow.

Announcement time!

If I had your phone number, or if I didn't have it, but you often sit around thinking about how cool it would be if I called you (just be prepared for kids yelling in the background and me stopping mid-sentence to tell them to stop before they're grounded for 10 years), please do one of the following"
call me, so that I can just hit "save"
OR send me your number in one of these ways
email me at kellyr2 at gmail dot com
facebook
myspace
whatever message board you know me from

Of course, if you keep thinking, "Man, I wish that crazy person would quit calling me!" then feel free to do none of the above.

Too bad I can't just get the urologist, ENT, OBGYN, dermatologist, and probably 15 other specialists I'm forgetting about, to do the same. I have to look all those suckers back up.

So I married a hooker...

(Fair warning for those with weak stomachs: This post contains a picture of a bloody face.)
Michael is a testosterone-filled adrenaline junkie these days. I think he had it all in check until the Army stopped letting him jump out of planes (not him specifically, but they took away the jump status for his unit). Then he started talking about taking up skydiving, and base jumping and all other sorts of illogical things.
See, here's when he got to do a tandem free fall with the Golden Knights:


So, now he's out at Fort Leonard Wood, where there is pretty much nothing to do. Well, nothing but, apparently, play rugby. Here he is at his first practice:

That's a broken nose. I've told him that if he breaks a leg, I'll fly out there to break the other one. He doesn't seem to think I'm capable. I think he severely underestimates the strength of an angry pregnant woman, when her husband injures himself playing a sport, and thus delays his graduation and return home dates!

So, I mean, clearly he's a thrill-seeking, pain-loving individual. But imagine my surprise when he says to me, "Hey, they've made me a hooker!"
For the record, I know nothing about rugby. I know very little about football.
I responded calmly. "So, did you let them know that your wife would have serious issues with that?"
Apparently, "hooker" is a position in rugby. And it seems that some guy on some team (probably New Zealand, he keeps talking about them, and I think they're on serious drugs) is the hooker, and his last name is Hore. I find it amusing.
His first game is next week. It would have been last week, but he decided to go ahead and get his toenailectomy earlier than planned, and couldn't play in last week's game.

I just don't understand choosing to do something that is near guaranteed to get you injured. Not just in a little pain, or very tired and sore, but actually injured. It boggles the brain. But hey, there are worse things a guy could be doing in Middle of Nowhere, Missouri, so whatever. Just as long as he doesn't injure himself any more.

Gotta Love GA Education

(disclaimer: I'm sure there are lots of good schools in GA, and in fact, I am a product of GA schools and didn't turn out too terribly bad. But, you know, I won't list the counties that I'd suspect this could have come from...)

PS, don't tell anyone, but Mikayla has a secret identity. She's a superhero. She's just not sure what her superpowers are yet.

Dinner Conversations

...something about God listening to us...
Aaric: Yeah, one time I told him some knock knock jokes, though. But it was boring, because he already knew the answers. He didn't laugh.
Me: I bet he did.
Aaric: Yeah, we just can't hear him.
Mikayla: I can't even hear him when he tells me to stop talking!

Testosterone Wins

So, it turns out that Baby on the Way is male. Giving us 2 females and 4 males living in this house.
Baby also likes garlic chicken and mac and cheese. Either that or he hates it, because I just ate it an hour ago and now he's doing flips. I think this is the most active he's been so far. Or at least, the most active that I've been able to feel. Click on the picture of Xander eating a muffin over there on the left, and you can see all the pictures of the new little monkey. The very muscular little monkey. I'm kinda afraid of this kid. I think he might be Popeye. He better not smoke a pipe! I haven't even eaten any spinach.

With my odd trains of thought, I think perhaps Tropical Storm Hanna has caused changes in the pressure, causing my brain to malfunction a bit. Good thing I'll be sleeping when the worst of it hits.

Aaric is happy about getting another boy, but it's not like he's jumping for joy or anything. More like, a big smile and a "ooh, a boy!?" and then on with life as usual. It's nice when the kid is old enough to understand that the baby won't be here for a while still.

Mikayla is not too thrilled, but she'd already pretty much given up hope even before she found out anyway. I played up the coolness of being the only girl. She'll be the first to get her own room, she doesn't have to share her clothes or other girly stuff with anyone, it'll be great! She's not convinced yet.

Xander still shakes his head and says "no" when I ask if he wants another baby in the house, so the gender of said baby is just not something he cares about. At least he hasn't said, "I yon't yike it" about the baby yet. I'm sure that will come. He did say it about yogurt yesterday. YOGURT. He lives for yogurt! Turns out he was constipated, he didn't like anything. Not standing still, not walking, not sitting, not being carried... and we were in Target trying to kill time while the van was getting a repair done. That was fun. Walking with a toddler who is afraid to take a step because his belly is cramping, but screams bloody murder if you try to put him in the stroller, and then he stops every once in a while to hold onto something sturdy and strain. Poor kid.

OH! And my camera has grown legs and walked away. I had every intention of taking pictures of his head, 3 months post hair cut. You can see waves again. And fluff. And he likes to shake his head, to feel it hit his face.

I would probably sit here typing more randomness, but Xander is ready for bed, which makes sense, as it's 9:40. So, I'm off to get the munchkins into bed.

Boy do I feel loved

I mean, it's bad enough that he's picky. He doesn't like this shirt, or that one, or those shorts, and good grief don't talk to him about any of those shoes in that shoe store! But I just overheard this conversation, featuring his new favorite phrase:
Aaric - Do you want to go to Mama?
Xander - No. I yon't yike it.

In addition, brilliant observations from Aaric - Mom, I just realized that Mikayla is a con artist.

Dude, seriously, you just now realized that?