Well, we are in the midst of difficult with our one-year old. I remember hitting this point with Cale. The point when you cannot take your eyes off for even one second without some type of catastrophe occurring. Whether it's an overturned trash can containing easy to access, not-quite-empty yogurt cups which ended up being eaten and poured all over the carpet. Or the occasional toilet-brush-to-the-mouth incident. Or even better, the hand-in-the-toilet while big brother is using it scenario. Maybe it's a cabinet full of pans strewn on the floor or an entire box of cereal emptied on the tile. Maybe it's the glass bowl that I loved being pulled off the side table one too many times and shattering on the ground. Every one of these things happened in a matter of seconds. With lightning speed and the sneakiness of a fox...I'm not really sure a fox is sneaky but I think I may have heard that somewhere, so I'll go with it.

If my memory serves me, twelve-eighteen months is simply a time of survival. For parents, not children of course. It's not a time to strive for a tidy home or accomplished chores. At least not in my household.

And you know, age three has it's own hardships as well. While Cale is not eating out of the trash or toilet, shoving rocks into his mouth, or emptying drawers and cabinets...he provides many challenges for us. He is so stubborn. So, so stubborn. Did two 'so's' get my point across any better? Right now it seems it is Cale's way or the highway. And that highway leads to a rather unpleasant destination. Tantrum-ville. It's not a place we enjoy visiting, but it seems we can't get away from it. Just when we start to get close to a happier place, I do something completely absurd like say, open the door to school, and Cale comes unglued. How the heck was I suppossed to know that suddenly his life depended on his ability to open the door and I just took that away from him. The nerve of me.

I can only describe it as walking on ice. I tip toe around, scared to make a wrong move. I take a few steps,and gain a bit of confidence when suddenly I hear a crack. Sometimes I fall in and oh what a pain it is to pull myself back out. But sometimes, if I'm on my toes, I can use a distraction tactic to avoid the fall into utter, untolerable darkness. Okay, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. But just a bit.

This has nothing to do with fits or tantrums, but the other day I had to take both boys to the doctor. By myself. I have only done this once before and Keaton was quite a bit smaller. Thankfully, the doctor got us in quickly, which never seems to happen. We had to sit in the actual room for about fifteen minutes before the doctor came in, but that was no big deal. At least we're behind closed doors when we're in that room and nobody can see bad behavior from my kids or judge my parenting strategies...or lack there of, it sometimes feels. While we were waiting for the doctor, Cale mentioned needing to go to the bathroom. I figured the doctor would walk in any minute so I asked Cale if he could wait. He was already back to watching a video on my Iphone so I assumed it was no emergency. After visiting with the doctor, she sent us out to the waiting room again to wait to get an Xray for Cale. After a few minutes he reminded me that he needed to go to the bathroom. I stood up, with Keaton in tow, grabbed Cale's hand, about to head to the bathroom. That's when I saw the look on Cale's face. I knew the look. It was the "I either pooped or peed in my pants look". I looked down to see a puddle forming around Cale's feet. At least it wasn't poop, right? So, I stood there, not sure what to do. I tried to go get some paper towels, but Cale kept trying to follow me which of course was creating a pee trail. Luckily right then, the Xray lady came out for us. She used a towel to clean up the mess. Then, because I am not always the most prepared mom, Cale had to walk around the doctor's office in his underwear. I had a fresh pair in our bag, but had no extra pants. So, while we waited on the Xray results, Cale happily bounced along in his whitey-tighties. Actually his Buzz Lightyear's. He was completely unaware of the potentially-embarrassing situation he was in. I kept having to chase Keaton around, and every time I got up, Cale would jump out of his seat to follow me. I tried to convince him to stay seated because the whole 'no pants' thing was less noticeable when he was sitting. But, since he felt no embarrassment in this situation he did not take my advice.

I am pretty sure I looked like a complete mess when we left. I was more tired after that hour in the doctor's office than I am after running several miles. Toting a pantsless three-old, a one-year old who desperately, always wants down to explore, a diaper bag, and a purse...is mentally and physically exhausting.

Kids Say the Darndest Things...

Well, there have been several times in my life so far that my three-year old has embarrassed me in public. Most of the time it's when he's being loud in a resturant or throwing a little fit in a store. I get that panicked feeling and the "We gotta get outta here" look comes over me as I scarf down the remainder of my food or begin only getting the absolute necessities on the shopping list, leaving all other so-called indulgences for another time. Yes, even soap is an idulgence in those times. "Oh, we can just use body wash. We gots to get outta here!"

Tonight at Wal-Mart, Cale embarrassed me again. But, this time I must say the embarrassement went a little deeper. I had already been to Wal-Mart once today, and without the kids. You know that feeling. Strolling leisurely through the aisles, looking at things you never get a chance to look at. Like the makeup aisle. So many new things, since about 2008, probably the last time I got to peruse that aisle. Ahhhh, it's pure happiness. But then I ran off and left one of my sacks, the one containing the milk and the construction paper to make Cale's Valentine's box. So, that's how we ended up back at Wal-Mart this evening. As Cale and I were standing behind a man at the Customer Service desk, he began trying to lift my shirt. Cale, not the man. With lightning speed I pulled the shirt down. I'm not one to go around showing my belly off, especially after having two kids, if you know what I mean. There's a little more of it to show off, or keep under cover, these days.

I said, "Cale, stop!" Then, he started saying, "I want to touch...I want to touch..." He stuttered as if he was having trouble thinking of the word. Of course I thought he was wanting to touch my stomach since his hands were ice cold. Then, to my shock, dismay, and utter horror he said, "I want to touch your boobies." And to confirm my fear that someone may have heard (he said it in his yelling-even-though-I'm-right-next-to-you three year-old voice) the man in front of me gave a loud snicker. As my face burned, I told Cale we don't say that or do that. Then, he started saying, "Booby, booby, booby, booby" What a little punk. Again, the man in front of me laughed. I was horrified. As if that is something we do in our household. My gosh, I didn't even breastfeed so there should be no boob attachment. I'm sure that man thought I was some sort of weirdo. For the record, I'm not. Well, yes I am a little weird. But not in the creepy mother-son relationship kinda way. More of the 'I lick the topping off my pop-tart before I eat it' kinda way. I can't eat one around Carl. He just stares at me in disgust and then I can't even enjoy the darn thing.

Well, I have no idea where the "I want to touch...." came from. But, Cale doesn't quite understand that some body parts are better left unmentioned...or untouched. He's constantly got his hand down his pants and has absolutely no shame in running around naked throughout the house, trying to put his "stinky bottom" on Carl or I while chanting, "Smell my booty". Or poor defenseless Keaton. We stop him when we catch him, but many times it's too late. Sorry Keat.

I'm worried to think what Cale might do or say next. You really just never know with a three-year old. And I embarrass very easily, so this isn't good. The moment he catches on to that, I'm toast.