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.

Keaton

Our little baby is finally one year old. I guess I shouldn't say 'finally'. It's more like 'suddenly'. It doesn't seem like it has possibly been a year already. Time flies even faster with the second one, that's for sure. Several times this evening I have thought back to what I was doing last year at this time: going in and out of consciousness between contractions! But, it was definitely all worth it. Keaton's gone from being that little infant we swaddled up, placed on our bed, and locked the bedroom door, just to ensure that big brother wouldn't bother him to the little toddler who wanders around the whole house looking for messes to make. We've gone through formula, rolling over, baby food, crawling, solid food, and now walking. Keaton has changed so much over the past year.

Keaton has been the more easy-going of our two boys, so far. He is fairly happy most of the time. He doesn't much like going to bed, but neither does Carl or Cale so I know where he gets it. He is very loving, often giving us repeated hugs. He has still yet to really give a kiss. So stubborn. His favorite hobbies include: 1. Taking everything out of the sippy cup/bottle drawer and throwing it all out on the floor, carrying the clean sippy cups that he throws on the floor all over the house to be found in random places.
2. Sticking his hands in the toilet water, any time a careless person leaves the lid up.
3. Going for quick, clumsy-looking jogs while holding any type of technology that he's not suppossed to have. Especially an iPod or iPhone. He gets his hands on it, then takes off without looking back. He doesn't realize this is a red flag for us. He's going to have to become less conspicuous.
4. Dropping everything and booking it to the dishwasher the minute he hears the sound of plates/bowls clinking. He immediately tries to climb inside once he gets there. I have mastered the art of silent dishwasher emptying. Also, I have a trick. I take everything out as fast as lighting and set it on the kitchen counter, which is out of Keat's reach. Then, I can put things away without worrying.
5. Emptying the trash can onto the floor and searching for scraps to munch on. Caught him doing this on multiple occasions.

At one-year old Keaton is quite a chunk. He loves to eat and will do so when given any chance. He's already become a bit of a picky eater...not to crazy about vegetables besides green beans. He loves milk. He also loves his bottle. For some reason milk in a sippy just doesn't taste quite the same. I'm going to give it a little time before I really try to start breaking him from the bottle. I mean, he was born three weeks early, right? I know, it's just an excuse to avoid the terror that is to come...

Keaton loves people and is willing to go to almost anyone. He has reached for strangers multiple times. What's funny is, I can remember Cale being this same way and now he has a bit of stranger fear. He clams up and gets a grumpy face when people he doesn't know try to talk to him.

Keaton also loves to people watch. He's not even nonchalant about it. He will turn completely all the way around in his high chair to stare at the table behind us. That's actually the one time he's usually not too interested in eating.

We love our Keater-pie and cannot believe he is one. He has been so much fun already and we just love his happy personality. We can't imagine life without him. I think even Cale is 100% glad to have Keat around. It's like he's got his own little punching bag. A punching bag that he loves on in between hits. A few more pounds and Keaton will be able to hold his own. And we will probably sit back and smile the first time he does. Big brother's got it coming...

A Week in Our Life With a One-Year Old. I'm Tired Just Thinking About it.

It's funny how fast babies go from cute pallet-on-the-floor accessories, capable of little more havoc than the occassional spit up or didn't-get-the-diaper-on-fast-enough mess, to destructive demolition experts, with the speed and accuracy, or inaccuracy, of a seasoned expert. That is where we are. At this very moment.

Carl had several things going on this week that resulted in me spending the evenings alone with the boys. Alone to try to cook dinner, clean up dinner, pick up the mounds of toys lying around my house, only to have both boys creating new mounds behind me as I went. Well, if you've ever had a curiuos one-year old, you probably know that planning to accomplish anything more than chasing them around the house as they go from one room to another, and another, and then back again is pretty pointless. But, even though I know it, it's like I just haven't accepted it. I still try to multitask. When will I learn?

A few nights ago, while Carl was gone I was hurrying around the kitchen trying to get all the droplets of food pieces off the floor beneath Keaton's high chair, mentally groaning because I had JUST steam cleaned the floors the night before. The boys were playing, and since I didn't hear the sound that makes my radar go off, screaming, I assumed all things were fine. Or at the very least non-emergency related. After quickly throwing a load of laundry in the washer, laundry that probably consisted of whites, colors, maybe even a diaper (It's happened. Couple of times), and who knows what else all mixed in together due to lack of time and concentration on my part, I walked into the living room to make my rounds. There sat Keaton, with the fireplace door opened, covered in gray ash with a nice thick ring around his mouth where he had taken a few tastes. Around him were handprints covering my floors. The floors that had just been steam cleaned, I have to throw that in there. I know, I need to just get over it. My floors have absolutely no chance of staying clean for more than an hour. If both boys are present and awake, probably not even that long.

After the initial shock, I took my little pain in the "ash", to the bath tub. Was that completely inappropriate? It just fit so nicely... Since it wasn't quite bedtime I let Keaton play a little longer. You'd think I'd learn my lesson, but I never seem to. I went to do a few more things in the kitchen because I just can't stand to have dishes laying around waiting to be cleaned. No loud sounds coming from the TV room. Just the soft voice of Steve on Blues Clues coming from the TV and the occasional sounds of plastic being hit together as Cale drove his tractors around the room. So glad that the boys were letting me get a few things done, I stuck my head in the TV room to check on them. Keaton had somehow, with his Stretch-Armstrong-like reach pulled over the trash can which we had resorted to putting on top of an end table, out of his reach. Or so we thought. Every piece of trash was strewn out across the floor, including pieces of food and crackers that Cale had disposed of. Keaton was sitting in the middle of the mess, chowing down on trash- bucket goldfish crackers, happy as can be. So, I had my 900th mess to clean up that night. Well, it felt like 900.

So by tonight, Friday night, I was completely worn out. Since every Friday night I go on a much-anticipated cooking strike, we headed out to eat. Due to the boys' behavior, we opted for casual and quick: Taco Villa. The whole dinner was a mess. Cale was fairly loud and Keaton was completely restless. He kept throwing his food on the floor, dropping his sippy cup on the floor, pulling himself to a standing position in the high chair, and reaching for anything he could get his hands on. It got to the point that I decided I was done eating and Carl decided to take his meat and bean nacho home to eat it. So, we began the process of loading everything up and trying to get out of there. Which is no easy feat. I was frustrated and tired and still a little hungry. Suddenly our Stretch-Armstrong son stretched far enough to reach the styrofoam box holding Carl's meal. The meat and bean nacho poured down Carl's leg and onto the floor.

I don't know if I finally snapped or what, but I just started laughing. Laughing hard. Carl gave me a look that could kill, so I tried to wipe the smile off my face. While Carl took the boys out to the car, I leaned down and after about 10 napkins, had most of the nacho mess cleaned up. I laughed the whole way to the car. Carl still had that look on his face. He talked about his precious nachos for about 10 minutes while driving down the road. But, to ease the pain we stopped at Taco John's to get him some food.

I still don't think the incident is even remotely amusing to Carl. Wasting a Taco Villa meat and bean nach could never be laugh-worthy to him. But, maybe in a few days.

Sometimes all you can do is laugh when life throws difficult times at you...or in this case...nachos.

Oh to have the imagination of a three-year old...or the energy. Cale has finally hit the stage of pretend play. We started out the night with a pretend circus. I walked into the TV room to find every cushion and pillow off of our couch and thrown on the floor in a messy pile. Cale then informed me that it was a circus and I had to sit down and watch the show, which of course I did. Then, after applauding his efforts, he told me it was my turn. So, I gave a few sad attempts at what I called "flips" and he cheered and clapped as if I was a regular acrobat. You gotta love that child-like admiration. I'm trying to soak up every minute he loves me and thinks I'm kinda cool, because I know in a few years I will be so much less than cool to him.

After convincing Cale that we had to close the circus down, he decided he wanted to be a "baby". Being a sappy mom, I have to say I was eating this up. He crawled around on the floor and made cute little baby sounds. Then, he got the idea that to really portray a baby, he would need a diaper and a baby shirt (aka onesie). So, thinking this would be pretty funny (and maybe even bring back a few memories), I cradled him in my arms and took him to Keaton's room. He lay on the floor, much too eager to get his baby diaper put on. After squeezing into the diaper, he squeezed even harder into a onesie. With a little work, I finally got it buttoned. He looked like a 3 feet tall baby with long, skinny legs.

He was way too geeked up about being "the baby". Carl and I played along for about 10 minutes: putting Cale in Keaton's crib, rocking him, putting him in the high chair...you get the picture. But, eventually we lost interest. Much sooner than Cale did. He continued to crawl around and crying "wahhhh". Then, he came up to me and said, "Mommy, you need to change my diaper. I poo-pooed." Wishing he would give up the act already, I distractedly played along and said, "Oh no, the baby's got a dirty diaper!". But, Cale was pretty persistent. And that's when I smelled it. And then I looked. Cale, with the strangest look on his face said, "Baby pooped in his diaper." After he said it, he looked gave me an inquisitive look, as if to see how I was going to react to this news. Let's just say it wasn't cute anymore.

In disbelief, I scooped him up, regretting the baby idea ever happened. I stopped by the playroom to give the news to Carl. As I was holding a stinky, much-to-big-to-even-wear-a-diaper Cale in my arms and telling Carl what our son had done, Cale said "I'm peeing on myself right now." And he was.

Maybe we have a future actor in our house. He was willing to get his "hands dirty"...well, other areas dirty, for a role. Don't the best actors become their character?

Oh, who am I kidding, I think we just have a little boy who was looking for a chance to poop on himself and not get into trouble.

Moral of the Story:

Diapers are NOT toys.

2011 Recap

Well, I figured I better write one last post, to close out the year. I've definitely fallen off the bandwagon of blogging. But, at least I'll end with a bang. Or a blog. A lot has happened this last year, which in some ways feels more like a few months and in some ways feels like forever. Fifteen days into the new year, we gained an addition to the family: Keaton Gray Kirtley. And what an awesome addition he has been, I must say. Keaton is such a fun, cheerful baby. He is easy going most of the time, although he does have quite a temper when he does not get his way. Like at bedtime when he thinks he isn't sleepy. And in the car when he finds it appalling that he is strapped to the "electric chair" we like to call a car seat. Besides the occasional temper tantrum, Keaton is truly a great baby. He almost never fusses, nothing that food or cuddle won't immediately cure. He is playful and very generous with his smiles. Before Keaton arrived, we wondered how we could love another as much as Cale. It was easy. 2011 wouldn't have been the same without 'ole Keater-pie.

This year Carl and I ran our first 10K, which may not sound like much to all you runners out there. But, it was the most I had ever ran before and probably the most I ever care to run, if you must know the truth. Yes, running is rewarding, after the fact. But, my comfort zone is about 2 miles. Much more than that and I start getting grumpy.

Cale stopped wearing diapers this year! And it was relatively easy, with the help of M&M's. We're still doing the night time pull-up as a safety precaution, but other than that he is going to the bathroom like the big boys. Except he still needs to work on his aim. And not getting side-tracked while he's peeing. I've been forced to become much more diligent cleaning the toilet...and the wall behind the toilet...and the tile beneath the toilet...and the stepstool Cale stands on...yes, maybe 2012 will bring more bathroom accuracy for him.

Carl put a zip-line in our backyard, along with a playground that he helped my dad build. We spent much of our time this summer out at that play park, as we call it.

I started a new job as a library media specialist at Dwight, which aside from having Keaton, is the most exciting thing that happened for me in 2011. I love my job now and am so lucky to be in this position. Really liking your job makes such a difference on your overall attitude. Carl says I complain much less often now. Like never. Now I only complain about him.

Cale started Noah's Ark in August of this year. We decided that it was time to get Cale's name on the list for preschool. We figured it would be several months until they had a spot available for him. But, two days after I filled out the paper work, we got a call saying there was an opening. So, we had to make the hard decision to leave our wonderful babysitter Nonna, and start a new school. It was a hard transition for Cale. He has become shy and uncertain in the latter part of this year. So, being with people he didn't know was especially hard, along with the different routines/structure of preschool vs. in-home child care. He cried when I dropped him off for awhile. And became incredibely clingy. But, it didn't take him long to fall in love with his teacher Ms. Amber. I literally mean "fall in love". He developed a bit of a crush on her and was highly offended and jealous when he saw a picture of she and her husband. So funny!

Just when Cale was really getting settled into his classroom and very comfortable with his teacher, they moved him up to the next classroom. So, we went through the whole crying/clinging thing again. Feeling comfortable is everything for Cale. He can't function until he's "comfortable". Gosh this child may end up being too much like me I'm afraid. But, after about a month, Cale began feel at ease with his classmates and began to really like his new teacher, which we refer to as the "New Ms. Amber" because her name is Amber, too! She's his comfort zone at school now. If she's there, we're good. If she's not, Cale gets nervous. Overall, Cale really likes school and has made lots of new, special friends.

We took many train rides this year. It started with a special train that came to Russellville last January, the zoo train, several Silver Dollar City train rides, and ended with a Christmas train ride early December.

Yes, this year was the year of trains. Toy trains, train videos on the Ipod, train movies, train shirts, food lined up like trains...you name it. Maybe next year will bring a new obsession. Something other than trains!

Keaton decided he couldn't let the year end without learning to walk. Right before Christmas he started toddling and is now walking all over. He's been getting into everything already and I'm sure walking will enable him to find even more mischief. I will just be glad when he doesn't have to taste everything in sight. It is tiresome and worrisome keeping track of what goes into his mouth. I've had many near panic attacks as I've found Keaton with random things in his mouth. But, he's still alive. So, we've done okay.

Being a family of four has made 2011 a great year. I wonder what 2012 has in store for us? Hopefully more sleep...please, more sleep.

The Mouse

Okay...this mouse is killing me. And I'm praying it's mouse and not mice.

I've always hated mice. I'm not really that scared of them because I know they can't actually hurt me. It's just the idea of a smelly, furry, rodent sneaking around my house, hiding in unexpected places that bothers me. I have been tortured by many a mouse in my day. Mentally tortured. To the point of sleeping with my head, arms, feet, completely under the covers, sweating, because I envisioned the mouse crawling across me at night. I'll never forget when I was young one winter, we had been finding mice in our house. I started fearing that a mouse would get in my bed while I slept. My parents assured me this couldn't happen. But, then a few days later I found mouse droppings on my windowsill, right by my bed. That's when I started sleeping completely under cover. And practically suffocating. I was so disturbed by the thought of the mouse crawling around my room that I wouldn't sit on my floor or place anything of importance on my floor because I knew a mouse had been crawling there. I even thought I could smell him. Seriously. This went on for awhile. You don't know how much sleep I lost. Maybe the disturbing thing was how horribly disturbed I was by the mice.

Well, I would like to say that now that I am an adult, I have grown up when it comes to mice. And I actually thought that I had. That is, until we got a visit from a mouse. Saturday morning, Carl spotted him racing across the carpet in our TV room. That's when my world came tumbling down. My nice, clean house...infested. Sure, our house isn't that clean. I'm sure our floors our covered in baby spit up and human waste (from babies) but it least it's our mess...not the mess of an univited guest. I spent Saturday watching every step I took fearing I might see the mouse.

I made it through the day okay, but night time was a different story. I know it's irrational, but I'm not the most rational person. I placed all nine of our throw pillows on top of our dresser, instead of the usual messy pile on the floor. And I'm not crazy. I failed to mention that after seeing the mouse on Saturday, I was putting fresh sheets on our bed. After getting the sheets on, I pulled the comforter back on...only to see a black speck attached to it. A speck which I am 99.9% sure was a mouse pellet. See, I just knew they crawl on me in my sleep. I had an awful time falling asleep at bedtime. I'm almost positive I heard the mouse rustling in our room. Then, when Keaton woke up in the middle of the night, I climbed out of bed and am almost certain I felt the mouse brush against my foot. I screamed and turned on the light and I'm pretty sure gave my husband one more reason to think I'm crazy.

So, tonight we stopped in Wal-Mart to get some ammunition for this problem. We stuck a sticky trap behind our fridge (when I say "we", I mean Carl...when it comes to mice I am completely hands-off) I had to work hard to convince Carl to buy sticky traps instead of the regular kind. His argument was that you have to keep buying more sticky traps because you only use them once. My argument was if he thinks I'm going to allow him to keep used and bloody mouse traps somewhere in my house, he's crazy.

So, we finally got the kids in bed and were sitting in the living room watching TV. Suddenly I heard the familiar rustling sound that I heard the night before. See I just knew it was a mouse last night. Then, we heard the squealing. Squealing and squealing, and more squealing. Very disturbing. The mouse was caught. I had wanted nothing more than for that mouse to die. But, I must say the squealing, suffering mouse made me feel a little bad. It probably wouldn't have been so bad except that Carl refused to do anything with it right then because it wasn't dead yet. He must not have understood how it was killing me inside to have a dying mouse behind our fridge. So gross. So, we watched the remainer of our show amidst the random rustling sound and moaning of a caught mouse, trying to free himself.

Seeing how we live in the country, I'm afraid I'm going to live a tortured life, if I don't get this issue of mine under control. Oh, and I failed to mention that I found mouse droppings in Keaton's book basket by his crib. Let's just say he didn't get a story tonight. Even my sweet little baby isn't safe.

My goodness, it's been way too long. A lot has happened in the past month, much of which I can't even remember. Seems I'm remembering less and less these days and even my mass of sticky note reminders stuck in various, should-be obvious places, are being overlooked. I can't remember to look at my reminders. I blame it partly on starting school and being in a new position, of which I love by the way. I blame it more-than-partly on my eight-month old and nearing three-year old which have been draining every last brain cell that I have...and they are already few and far between. And lastly I guess I blame it on forgettful genes...my dad, not my mom. Life has been...busy and not allowing for much of anything extra.

Back to the kids. Cale has started Noah's Ark which has been an experience. Mostly a good experience, except that Cale has chosen this time in his life to become clingy and unsure of himself. So, many mornings have resulted in me prying him off of my legs as I quickly shut the door while he screams. Great way to start the day. (And it's not just at preschool. It's church, bedtime, naptime, etc.) But, he has been doing better the past week or so at Noah's Ark. Nothing that a little candy-bag-for-not-crying bribe each afternoon and having his best bud and cousin Kenzie ride with us to school, couldn't fix. It's shameful that I've resorted to bribing with candy, but I'll take shameful bribery over screaming and clinging any day. Each morning Kenzie and Cale walk in holding hands and stay that way for the first few minutes of being at school. It's pretty sweet.

Since my last post, Cale had a two-week long monster transformation. I don't mean monster as in "big", I mean he literally became a monster. He screamed and cried a constantly throughout the day, didn't want to go to school, woke up screaming and kicking several times a night, and just completely wasn't himself. I kept trying to get him to tell me what was wrong, but all I got was wailing. Finally we took him in to the doctor and found out he had a bad throat infection. After being on medicine for several days, his behavior did not get better. In fact, he got worse. I was beginning to think this was a phase he was in, and that disturbed me. Each day at school Cale's teachers were telling me that he cried a lot, refused to eat lunch (for about a week), and just wasn't himself. He was even sent home one day because he wouldn't stop crying. Finally he began telling us his teeth hurt. I looked inside his mouth and sure enough...it was the King-Kong of teeth...the two-year molars. I guess I thought those had already come in. I should've known better. There's not a tooth in that boys head that didn't come with pain and torture (yeah, I'm sure it hurt Cale, too) ;) So, we loaded him up on Tylenol and Ibuprofen for several days and he finally got past it, for the most part. He's still pretty clingy and almost impossible to get to sleep..."Lay with me...I want a drink...I'm scared...I think there's a tiger in my bedroom." One of my favorite excuses came about 11:00 one night. He woke up screaming and crying and when I finally calmed him down he said he wanted a drink. I told him no and he said, "...But I want milk. My bones are hurting and they are about to break". Back story...he hasn't been wanting to drink milk lately so I've been trying to coax him into drinking it by telling him how strong it makes his bones. So, what could I do but give him some milk. This boy is killing me.

Keaton is crawling all over the place now and pulling up on everything. He's been caught eating the toilet brush at least two times now. So that's where we are right now. I would move the brush, but there's just no good, handy place to put a nasty toilet brush and I feel like the best place is beside an equally nasty thing...the toilet. I just can't bring myself to put it on the counter or even on top of the toilet. I have issues about toilets and the tools we use to clean them, I guess. Keaton has also had ear infections for about a month and a half now. We have had four doctor visits and are now on our fourth different medicine. Next step will be a visit to the ENT, if his ears haven't cleared in about another week. Poor little guy has definitely been fussier than normal and not sleeping too well, but overall he's still a trooper.

Mr. Keaton has developed a temper in the last few weeks. He goes into a full-on screaming fit when things don't go his way. My sister said she read that at eight months you can start to really see a baby's personality. Up until then, you can't really tell. Darn it...he hit the eight month mark about 6 days ago. Hope there's not a correlation! But, in his defense his ears have been hurting for far too long now and he's cutting his second tooth. Those two things would be enough to make any of us have a temper, I suppose.

I can't believe how fast time is flying. It's almost October, Cale will be three in a few months and before long Keaton will be a year old. And I can barely keep up already. But, we are beginning my favorite time of year: Fall! So, I am going to try to slow down and enjoy it, one pumpkin at a time.