Well, summer break for me has pretty much come and gone. In a blink. And my blogging was pretty much non-existent. I thought I would have so much more free time during the summer. And on a typical summer I hopefully will. But, this summer I had a toddler and a baby. Which both take up a lot of time. I had hoped that I would at least get a free hour or more each day where they were both napping. But, I am beginning to think you have to have some kind of magical power to make that happen.

Each week, the boys went to Nonna's (their babysitter) on Tuesdays and Fridays. On a typical summer, these days would have been my "me" days. But, this summer I spent those days at school trying to get familiar with my library. But, 12 days later=still not-so-familiar! But, hey I'm not complaining. I am so excited about my new job and even if it made me spend a bit more time in my school building than I would have liked to this summer, it is going to my make my school year seem much easier.

This past weekend, against Carl's approval, we went to Silver Dollar City. Don't get me wrong. Carl likes Branson and likes Silver Dollar City...in normal weather. But in the furnace that we call summer around here, he wasn't too excited about going. I tried convincing him by reminding him that there are a few rides where we can get wet. I guess it's obvious that in the end, I won. And it really wasn't too bad. We went up on Friday night, again not Carl's idea. But, I oh-so-dramatically reminded him that we would have to leave so early in the morning if we made it a one-day trip and that would put our already-prone-to-be-moody son Cale in a bad mood. And that's just no good for anyone involved. So, at about 2:00 on Friday afternoon, Carl told me to book a hotel.

We invited Carl's mom to come with us because we thought Cale would enjoy it and she hadn't been to SDC in years. We decided to leave sweet little Keaton with my parents because we didn't think he was up for the heat and I didn't think I was up for toting him around in the hot, black harness all day. We arrived in Branson at about 8:45 Friday night. We decided to hit the Landing before going to the hotel. It's so nice that Cale can stay up later these days, if necessary. When we were just about to the Landing, we noticed Dicks Five and Dime, and remembered what a neat store it was. We also remembered how many tractor toys and tractor memorabilia the store displayed...but we decided to brave the toddler, "I want, I want" fit and go in anyway. Plus, we knew we would probably come out with some sort of tractor, and we were okay with that.

Cale actually did great in the store. We talked him into a very small, inexpensive tractor...which is unreal because there were many big, $40 + tractors that he looked at while he was there. In the end, he was happy with the small one that his Mammaw bought for him...and even more pleased with his purchase when he realized the cab of the tractor was filled with small pieces of bubble gum. Which he chewed all of in about five minutes.

We got to the Landing at about 9:30. We were bummed to see that the water/light show was under construction. But, we found a simple candy store had all the entertainment we needed. The store had a train that chugged along the ceiling (like in Stoby's) and Cale was delighted. I don't think he ever even realized we were in a candy store, even though everywhere you turned there were clear buckets filled with colorful arrays of candy that made me an indecisive mess while trying to determine what to purchase. And seventeen dollars later, we had our bag of candy. And I swear it didn't even feel like a pound. They must make a killing at those places.

On our way out to our car, we heard a train whistle. In front of the Landing is a train track and sure enough, one was coming by. What a perfect end to the night, in Cale's eyes. He plopped himself in the grass for a front row seat in the train passing. We could have left Branson after that and he would have thought it was the best trip.

The next morning, after a breakfast that Cale tried to convince us he didn't need because he was so excited about his upcoming train ride, we headed to Silver Dollar City. We hit absolutely NO traffic...which is amazing for a Saturday going to SDC. We got to ride in a trolly car from where we parked our car up to the SDC gates. Again, could the trip get any better for Cale? We started off with The Great American Plunge, which is a log-ride that leisurely floats you around through several tunnels...one of which was completely pitch black, and then takes you up a giant hill before you make a huge, heart-pumping drop into a big pool of water. Cale was just tall enough to ride and I have to admit I was a little nervous. Carl put Cale in the front too, which made my nervousness just a bit worse. I think I reminded Carl to hold onto Cale about five times, as if he wasn't going to. But, to our dismay Cale wasn't a bit scared.

So, feeling pretty good about Cale's attitude towards rides, we headed to Fire-in-the-Hole (my all-time favorite when I was little) Cale thought it was a train, so he was eager to ride. But, as the ride began, I could tell he was getting a little nervous. And in his defense, what a creepy ride it is. From the old-timey, horror-movie music, to the fake flames...it's pretty intense for little ones. After the ride, Cale (serious-looking, but no tears) said he didn't really want to ride that one again.

After we got home from Branson on Saturday night, Cale was still bothered by Fire-in-the-Hole. He kept telling me that there were monsters and ghosts on the ride. He also talked about a man looking at him while he rode. I think he meant the fake people that are staged throughout the ride. After I spent fifteen minutes trying to convince him that it was all make believe, Cale simply told me, "Mama, don't you EVER make me ride that again!" Sad thing is, I'm sure we will try to coerce him into riding it again when we go back in the fall...unless he throws too big of a fit!

We were so glad to see Keaton when we got back home. It seemed strange only having one kid on our trip. But, I'm sure Keaton had much more fun in the air-conditioning, being cuddled and spoiled by Nan and Pop.

We can't wait until we can go on rides and roller coasters with both of our boys one day. I hope they're both little thrill-seekers. Wait, let me rethink that. When it comes to amusement parks, I hope they are daredevils. But as far as motorcycles, four-wheelers, and fast cars...not so much. I dread those reckless teenage days. Thank goodness I have just a few years with my "little" boys!

The Life of a Mom...Far From Glamorous

Today Cale pooped on the counter top in the bathroom. I don't know why. Guess that's what I get for being a germa-phobe growing up. He also won't eat anything healthy. Guess that's what I get for being a terribly picky eater growing up.

I knew Cale was in our bathroom 'peeing', as he announced before he headed in. After just a short time, I went in to check on things...you know, make sure the room wasn't covered in pee, as it sometimes is, and to clean the toilet seat off because it's always covered in pee after Cale has graced it with his presence. I heard the flush, so I knew he was done. But, as I walked in the bathroom, I saw him standing on the top of the counter, the fact that he does this is a whole other issue. Even though the 'standing-on-counter-top' thing made me a bit nervous, I have to say it was the least of my worries. My attention was more focused on the big pile of poo lying right beside his feet and much to close for comfort, at least mine, to a toothbrush. Carl's toothbrush, to be exact. I'm not crazy enough to leave mine out on the counter. Not in this household. Cale looked incredibly guilty when I walked in. I asked him why in the world he pooped on the counter. He was a little speechless, but then tried to cleverly divert my attention by reminding me, in a proud cheerful voice, that he had just peed in the potty. Yes son, but your 'Potty Award' just went down the drain when you followed it up with a nasty 'number two' on the counter. He never really gave me an answer as to why he did it. I guess even he knew, "because I wanted to" wouldn't be the best explanation.

In giving him the benefit of the doubt, sometimes when he gets himself on top of counters...(yes, the 'climbing on counters thing'is a fairly common occurrence and you're probably thinking I'm a terrible mom by now)...he has trouble getting down. So, I'm hoping...going out on a limb really...that maybe the urge hit him once he got on top, and then not really being able to get down very successfully or quickly, he thought..."Oh well, what the heck? Mom can clean it up."

Deep down I know he probably just thought it would be really cool to have a pile of poop on the counter. Glad there wasn't a tractor nearby. We already know what he does with tractors and poop.

10 hours + 2 kids...Need I Say More?

Well, we're back from Florida...and we survived. The last time we went to Florida, Cale was six months old. I remember thinking it was SO hard. He didn't do too well on the drive, he didn't like the beach AT ALL, and he didn't sleep well. Needless to say, we were a little nervous this year with two little ones. And Keaton is a much worse car-rider than Cale was at his age. Our strategy was to leave at 8:00 in the evening, in hopes that Keaton would sleep almost the entire ride. So, last Friday at 8:00, we loaded Keaton up...freshly bathed, fed, and in his jammies...and headed to Destin. We decided to let Cale ride with my parents because they weren't leaving until about 2:00 am and they were also taking his cousin Abree. Plus, Cale does not respond well to Keaton's screaming in the car. Our plan worked out better than I could ever have imagined. Keaton screamed for the first 20 minutes, then fell asleep. He slept for several hours, woke up to eat, and then slept until about 6:00 am when we were almost there! Too easy. Well, maybe not for Carl who did all the driving. I offered to help, but he doesn't trust my driving...especially in the middle of the night.

Cale arrived the next day and our vacation began. The first day, Cale was fearless. To the point of being a little scary. He ran into that water so fast, without ever hesitating. We couldn't believe it. But, he did hate the salt water in his eyes, which I had expected. By the second day, for some reason, Cale was more timid about the water. He would start to get in, but only stay a minute before getting out again. He spent most of his time running around on the sand, pushing his dump truck, and digging holes.

The beach, as I used to know it, has changed. Not so long ago, when I thought of the beach I pictured endless hours of laying out in the sun or under the beach umbrella reading a good book or napping. I thought of spending an hour primping and dressing up for nightly dinners where I actually got to sit and enjoy my food. I thought of going to bed late and sleeping in. Let's just say none of those things happened on this vacation. This vacation consisted of getting up at 6:00 am every day, spending 15 minutes getting the little ones all slathered with sunblock and ready for the beach, toting a two-year old, 5-month old, dump truck, sand bucket and shovel, blown up boat, towels, bottle of milk, and water down to the beach, toting the two-year old all the way back to the condo for bathroom breaks, bathing both kids after getting back from the beach, rushing to get a shower and throwing on some makeup before going out to eat, holding an infant as I clumsily tried to feed myself...you get the picture. Wow, things are much harder now. I'm tired just thinking about it.

But, it was so fun having our little family on vacation. The Kirtley fam is comlete and that's a good feeling. It was fun getting to see Cale's face when he saw the ocean for the first time, or the many air planes that flew overhead dragging banners advertising local attractions, or the parasailors, or helicopters. It was so fun carrying Keaton in a harness on the front of me as we walked through the Destin Commons mall (much similar to the Landing in Branson, but even more magical...especially at night). I loved riding on the train around the mall with Cale, two different times. This dinky little train was probably the highlight of the vacation for him. His face was priceless. I loved seeing Keaton asleep on his belly on a towel out on the beach. Besides his hate for car-riding and his constant need to be held, Keaton is such an adaptable little fella. He loved the ocean, didn't mind the sand, was content to be carried in a harness on the front of me for hours, was fairly easy to get down for naps, and slept pretty well at night in his pack-n-play. If he was being held, he was happy, one-hundred percent.

Cale had a blast at Florida also. He was quite tempermental, the opposite of Keaton. Cale doesn't do well with a lot of change...he likes routine. He started out the trip overtired from not sleeping well in the car, stayed up too late, and woke up too early each morning. So, little sleep was a recipe for a cranky little boy. But, he still had plenty of fun, happy moments. He like the beach, loved the pool, and had a blast playing with his cousins. When they weren't around, he would mope around asking about them. He and his cousin Kenzie spent much of their time playing The Three Little Pigs. One of them would lock themselves in a bedroom, and the other would stand outside beating on the door and saying, "Little pig, little pig, let me in" and then the other would give the proper reply. It was too cute. But, being two and three years old, they also had plenty of little arguments. 'Share' is a word that is not yet in their vocabulary.

A few weeks before we left, we started potty training Cale. We were a little worried that the trip would be hard on him and that he might relapse a little. But, he really did great. He even started going on his own. Like, walk into the bathroom, do his business without telling anybody, and then coming out to announce it to whomever would listen. But, since he's not a good aim yet, this usually resulted in a puddle on the floor and a wet toilet seat. And he refused to use any bathroom but my sister and brother-in-laws. Sorry guys. I had to bleach clean their toilet seat and floor on several occasions. Also, on the first day or two at the beach, we caught Cale trying to drop his swim trunks and relieve himself right there on the sand. Yes son, you do it at home but not here. Luckily we caught him in time.

On day two of the trip, we ate at a restaurant called Fudpuckers. It's a great place to go if you have kids. There is a small park, gift shop, and alligator exhibit for you to look at while you wait for a table. While we waited, Cale and his cousins got in line to hold an alligator. When we walked in the "alligator room" Cale was the first up. The alligator charmer, or whatever he was, asked if he should get a smaller alligator. The one he had was thirty-five pounds. Cale is about thirty pounds. Well, of course Carl (thinking this would make the picture even cooler) chimed in and said, "He can do it. This one will be fine". So, the man sat this big alligator in Cale's arms. Cale looked quite uncomfortable at first and even more uncomfortable when the alligator began to squirm, turned to look at him, and then hissed. I was quite uncomfortable myself. Carl stepped in to grab the alligator and the man went to get another, smaller one. When he came back in with the little alligator, Cale looking nervous said, "That's not a little one". We, in overly-excited voices said, "Cale, you get to hold this alligator for a picture!" He, replied in a not-so-excited voice said, "But, I already did." I don't think he wanted to give it a second try. But, even though he was nervous, he toughed it out and held it. I was proud of him. I'm not sure if I would have held another alligator after being hissed at by the first one.

We had a really good time on vacation, but we're glad to be home. I think this was probably the hardest vacation we'll ever have, with two little ones. I think it will probably get a little easier each year until finally the kids are going out to the beach by themselves and asking us to use the car to go to a movie. That makes me sad. Even though it will be easier then, I will totally miss my little boys. I need to soak up every hard, tiring moment. They will grow up way too fast.

Potty Training...Take Two.

Well, we decided it was time. Time to start the difficult process of potty training. About a week ago I asked my babysitter if Cale was getting low on diapers and she said that she really thought he was ready to make the leap. We've played around with using the 'potty' but I had planned on really starting this summer anyway, so here we are in the midst of big boy underwear...daddy insisted we start calling them underwear instead of 'panties' as Cale refers to them. The hardest thing for me has been remembering to have Cale go every 20 minutes or so. I failed miserably in the beginning. After a few days, it has finally become a little more natural. Now, don't get me wrong. We've had plenty of accidents. Mostly accidents of the worst kind...number two. Yesterday I was putting Keaton down for a mid-morning nap. I'm always a little nervous about what Cale is doing in the other room while I am getting Keaton to sleep. But, there's no way Keaton will go to sleep with Cale screaming and playing drums and bouncing around everywhere. When I came out of Keaton's room, I couldn't find Cale. Finally, I noticed the door to the garage was not quite closed all the way. (It's scary that Cale can open our doors and has even figured out how to unlock them) I stepped into the garage to find Cale in his most favorite spot...sitting on the lawn mower. It only took me a few seconds to notice the trail of liquid that followed him to the mower. I knew what must have happened, but when Cale climbed down from the mower, I noticed a big,saggy lump in the leg of his tight pajama pants. Already knowing the answer, I asked him what had happened. I can't explain the look Cale gets when he goes to the bathroom in his pants and is caught. It's a mixture of embarrassment combined with a lot of trying-to-be-cute, and topped off with a heaping spoonful of stubborness. So, I threatened to throw away his Christmas pajama pants (yes, we're still wearing the Christmas pj's because he loves them) Well, of course he got very upset. He said "You can't throw them away. Trash goes in there!" I tried to explain to him that poop-filled pants are equal to trash, but he didn't see it that way. So needless to say I took the poop filled pants out to the grass and sprayed them off with a water hose before covering them with half a bottle of Shout and putting them in the wash.

Later that morning, Keaton and I were sitting on the porch as Cale played at his playhouse out in the yard. I was feeding Keaton and talking on the phone with my mom. All of the sudden I heard Cale say, "The poo-poo came out" I looked up, dreading the worst. But, what I see is Cale, standing with his underwear half-way down staring at the ground. I ran out to see if he really did it. Sure enough, there was a pile right there on the ground. There was also a pile in his underwear (guess he didn't get them off quickly enough) But, I didn't care! I was just excited that he attempted to pull his pants down and go. I ran in to get some wipes. What didn't occur to me was...toddler left outside with a pile of poop and a tractor with a front end loader...bad idea. Cale decided to drive his tractor through the poop. Multiple times. So, he and tractor got hosed off in the yard. That tractor is now strictly an outdoor ONLY tractor.

The rest of the day was really a success. Cale didn't have any more accidents and he even began telling me when he needed to go. Feeling brave, we even went and did some things in town with Cale wearing underwear instead of a diaper. No accidents. He's still a long way from really being trained. But, we're off to a good start. And I've finally trained myself to be conscious of his bathroom visits. So, at least one of us is trained.

Oh and on a side note, the best potty training advice we've been given? Don't ask Cale if he needs to go...at least not in the beginning. Just scoop him up and take him. This works much better, because if we left it up to Cale he would rarely quit playing to go. So, I don't even say anything about where we're going. He figures it out once we're in the bathroom, but usually doesn't put up a fight. He just gives in and goes. Which is a huge improvement on the screaming fit he used to throw when we would make a big ordeal of going.

Have I mentioned that my two-year old is developing the attitude of a teenager? A teenager trapped in a cute little body with a cute little voice, but still teenager-ish behavior nonetheless. Being little and cute makes it a little more tolerable. If he acts like this at thirteen, let me just say it will not be quite so forgiveable. You're probably thinking, "He's only two, he can't be that bad." I don't know where this attitude is coming from, but Cale has it. Just last night, I told Cale to do something and he said, "you can't make me". And what could've been the best teachable moment...the moment when I said, "Oh yeah, let me show you how I'll make you..." was a flop. What did I do? My jaw dropped as I wondered where he learned that phrase that I will probably hear many more times in his young little life. He's only two. He's not suppossed to say thingsl like that. Yep, I froze. And I completely missed the moment. Oh yeah, we talked about it later. But, if the wrath would've come down in that exact moment it probably would have been much more traumatic and memorable.

Tonight we went to eat at McCalisters. I didn't feel like cooking. Big surprise. I don't EVER feel like cooking and if we were rich we would eat out every-single-night. And I would have my clothes laundered. And I would hire a weekly maid. It would be nice to be rich (gazing off with faraway look as suddenly I'm no longer typing) Hey,snap out of it. Ain't gonna happen. Okay, back to the subject. Cale has a really bad habit of getting loud when we get into any type of resturant. Really loud. Obnoxiously loud. I don't know if it's a "hey look at me" attention-getting thing or if he just gets that excited. We're trying to work on using a quiet voice but I don't think two-year olds have volume controls. In the middle of eating, Cale decided he wanted to try one of the olives from Carl's sandwich. I knew he wouldn't like it, but he went for it anyway. After a few seconds of chewing, he decided it was "yuck". So, as he started to spit it out, and with lightning speed only a mother or the Road Runner from those old cartoons can have, I put my hand up to catch it (the perks of being a mom). Well, I caught it. I guess I should clarify. I caught some of it. I took my hand away and then Cale decided to blow the rest of the olive-slobber-mess out onto the table. Thank goodness he was sitting by Carl and not me. This is the second time he's spit food out in a resturant, so Carl swatted him, which like a domino effect, caused him to start screaming at the top of his lungs. I could feel myself shrinking into the booth, hoping noone would notice. Because Cale wouldn't stop screaming, Carl scooped him up to head to the bathroom. Cale knows what this means. The whole way to the bathroom Cale kept loudly saying, "Daddy, don't spank me. I stop crying. Daddy please don't spank me!" I wanted to hide under the table at this point. But, I was holding Keaton and I figured it would be hard to get myself and a four-month old under a table. Plus someone would call SCAN on us for sure, then. I kept thinking, "maybe people will see that we have another little one and cut us a little slack." At least I didn't really know anyone there. Wait a minute. It's Russellville, of course there had to be someone there that I knew. As we were getting up to leave, I saw a teacher that I work with. With what I'm sure was an awkward, embarrassed smile and chuckle I said, "Ha..ha...I bet you heard us over there." I think everyone probably did.

On the way home, for some reason unknown to us, Cale started saying, "I don't love you, Daddy." I think two-year-olds sit around and think about how to get a rise out of adults. Cale loves reactions. I think it gives him a sense of power. Like he's pulling the puppet strings. I explained to him that we don't say that and that it makes others feel bad." I really think I got through to him because Cale followed up our pep talk with "I don't love you, Mommy." Strongwilled. Then, as if to put the icing on the cake, he said, "I don't love Jesus." It's like he knew that would be the worst thing he could possibly say. Now, I normally wouldn't tell people about my child saying something like that, but he is only two and is still trying to understand who this Jesus is that we talk about and say our prayers too. (At the moment Cale's a little confused and uneasy, that Jesus lives in the ceiling...Cale's interpretation of Heaven, or that Jesus is in his belly...Cale's interpretation of "Jesus lives in your heart") I tried explaining to Cale that we love Jesus and that Jesus created us. In his agitated two-year-old way, Cale was insistent that Jesus was a girl. No idea why he said that. I think he just wanted to argue. I kept telling him, "No, Jesus is a man." He just kept replying in an irriated tone, "No, hers a girl, not a man!" Poor kid is so confused.

When we got in our garage, Cale told me once again that he didn't love me. So I swatted his leg, scooped him up, and took him to the time-out chair where he screamed and cried the entire time. When it was time to get up, I squatted down beside the chair, and asked Cale to explain to me why he had been put in time- out...just like I always do. But, this time instead of explaining in his cute little sniffly voice, he turned around in the chair, and said, with his back to me, "I don't want to look at you." So, he earned himself a spot in time-out awhile longer.

It was a rough couple of hours, but by bedtime Cale was back to being an angel. Well, at least a pretty good boy. He was funny and full of "lovins", as he likes to say.

Being with a two-year old is like being around someone with multiple personalities, ADHD, and OCD, all wrapped up in one. One minute it's great, the next awful. One minute full of love, the next minute mad at the world. Constantly bouncing off the walls. And the rituals. Oh the rituals. Like shutting the door when we leave Nonna's. Opening up his own gum wrapper. Turning on his light in the morning. If even one is forgotten or interrupted somehow, we have drama.

As much of a trial as he was this evening, we love him like crazy. It's funny how that works.

May

Wow. It is finally May. The time of year every teacher looks forward to and every parent of school-aged children probably dreads. Secretly, I'm sure. Summer vacation is just around the corner. Can I get an amen? Every August, I think back to May and wonder why I didn't feel more excited and relaxed knowing that I was about to get some time off. But every year, May is one of the busiest times at school and there's no time to just sit back and bask in the sweet reality that school is going to be over soon.

This year, May seems even more busy, especially since I'm trying to finish things up in my classroom but also begin to prepare for being in the library. It feels like I have too many things on my mind and no one thing is getting enough of my attention and focus. I'm pretty much scatter-brained right now. Not that scatter-brained isn't my normal day-to-day mentality, it just seems I've just taken it up a notch or two lately. Not good. And my procrastination level is at an all-time high. Also not good. I've got clothes in the laundry room that have been waiting to be ironed for weeks. Oh, I still iron every so often right now, but there are two shirts that I avoid each time I begin to iron. Those shirts have been sitting there since early April. I do not want to iron them. They're button down shirts that come out of the dryer so wrinkly, you would think they had been wadded up in a ball for years. I despise ironing them. In fact, I usually won't wear them because I know that I will end up having to iron them again. What's worse is, there is a pair of shorts that has been hanging in the laundry room, all wrinkly, since last July. No, really. July. But, in my defense, when I took them out of the dryer all those many months ago, I knew that I would soon be too fat to fit into them since I was pregnant. So, I just left them hanging there. Through the fall and winter months every once in awhile I noticed them, hanging there amongst sweaters and pants. But, I knew I didn't need them at the time, so I figured, "why bother?". And now, those shorts just seem like a permanent fixture in my laundry room. I don't know what I would do if nothing was hanging on my clothing rod. Maybe I'll get all crazy one day and try it.

Things at home have been a little chaotic as well. Cale, the bundle of joy that he is, has been a little tempermental lately. Okay, a lot tempermental. Anything and everything causes an all-out temper tantrum right now. It feels like he cries twenty times a day. His crying, screaming really, is usually accompanied by kicking of legs and flailing of arms and, if things are really terrible, occassionally flopping face down on the floor. And it's over ridiculus, seemingly unimportant things. Let him stick a piece of ice to his tongue, pull skin off his lip as he rips the ice away, and have blood dripping down from the wound...no tears. But, let me cut his Pop-Tart in half in an attempt to make it easier to eat...and all heck breaks loose. He's hard to understand right now. One thing I know is that he wants complete independence. C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E. He puts things that I open for him back in the wrapper just so he can be the one to take them out. He must open every door himself and shut every door himself, and if I forget, I'm in for a punishment. Punishment in the form of a two-year-old temper tantrum. Yikes, the worst kind of punishment.

Sunday, as we were about to eat dinner on the back porch, I sat Keaton down in his walker...not that he can actually make it move now, but he loves to be sitting up where he can see all the action. As we were eating, Cale got up and started playing. I didn't think much of it until I looked up just in time to see "Baby Hulk" lifting Keaton's walker up and flipping it over on its side. With Keaton in it. On the concrete. I have never moved so quickly, but I was still too late. I watched as the walker landed and Keaton's head, thankfully slowly, hit the hard, concrete porch. I'll tell you the truth I just about went all "Mama Hulk" on Cale. I think I even turned green. I grabbed Keaton and swatted Cale several times while yelling, "You can't do that! You can't ever do that!" Of course Keaton was screaming and then Cale was crying. Thank goodness, no one was really hurt. I think Keaton was just a little stunned. What if Cale would've pushed Keaton off of the porch? It makes me sick to think about it.

Just when I thought Keaton was safe. Lesson learned: I guess a baby is never safe with a two-year-old around. Never.

Last night Carl and I decided to take Cale to see a movie. We tried about 6-7 months ago, Toy Story 3, and ended up leaving after only fifteen minutes. We were a little nervous this time around, but Cale has been to the movies a few times with his Mammaw and has done well, so we were willing to give it a try. On the way to the movie we got a call from my sister saying that she was taking her girls to see the same movie, Hoodwinked 2. Cale was pretty excited when he found out Abree and Kenzie were going to be there. I was a little nervous up until the point the movie actually started. Cale wouldn't sit down and was being a little rowdy. But, the minute the lights dimmed, he was in a trance. I never would have believed he would sit there the way he did. His eyes almost never left the movie screen the entire movie. About halfway through he leaned over and said he wanted a snack (aka popcorn and coke) It was so cute to watch him reach his little paw in the bucket, pull a much-too-big handful of popcorn out, and shove it in his mouth...all the while his eyes never leaving the screen. As silly as it may sound, it was a monumental moment for us. Now we know that we can take Cale to a movie, he can happily sit through it, and he truly enjoys it. This is probably the first of many family movie outings for us.


Cale has been saying some silly things lately. I think he's finally to the age that he knows it gets a laugh if he says funny things. Sometimes when I ask him something, I can see the wheels turning in his mind, thinking about the perfect silly response. On the way home from the park the other night, Cale suddenly said, "Daddy, you're driving too fast. You better slow down, or a 'pop car' will get you." Then I asked him, "What will the cop say to Daddy if he pulls him over?" Cale replied in a very deep, growley voice, "I'm going to get you, Daddy!" Then, I asked Cale "What will Daddy say to the cop?" Cale quickly responded, "Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin." I sure hope that's not what Daddy says if he gets pulled over.

The other morning, as Cale was sitting by Carl finishing his breakfast, he let out a rather loud poot. I said, "Cale was that you?" He said, "No, it was you Mommy." Then, he turned to Carl and said, "Mommy just pooted in her panties", to which Carl reponded with uncontrollable laughter. Feeding the fire, aren't we there, Daddy? Who knows what Cale says about us when we're not around. So, to clear things up any misconceptions you might have about us after talking with our son...Cale has developed a little habit of stretching the truth or just twisting it up completely. So, if he tells you something embarrassing about us, then you should just assume it's not true. None of it. All fiction. Even though half of it probably really happened.

The other afternoon, Cale was sitting in Carl's truck. He loves to pretend he's driving. Makes him feel so big. He spotted a pack of gum in the cup holder. He asked Carl if he could have some gum. Carl said, "One piece". Yeah right. You can't tell a toddler, "only one" and then leave the entire pack in their reach. Carl said he turned his back for about two minutes. When he looked back in the truck, Cale was sitting with nine gum wrappers lying around him. And he didn't have a huge mouthful of gum. He did what I assume most 2-year olds do...he swallowed all of it. Each and every piece. We haven't noticed any side effects of it...yet.

This post is mainly about Cale, but Keaton is very much a part of our lives too. He's beefing up and grinning like crazy right now! He smiles so much...more than Cale at this age. All you have to do is hold Keaton up, facing you, and he grins and coos. He still wants to be held...a lot. But if you're holding him and looking at him, he's pretty content. We're really starting to get attached to Keaton. We've loved him all along, but now he's finally getting some personality.

I noticed a lot of people posted about Easter and I completely forgot to. We had a really good Easter this year. Cale loved waking up to the overflowing Easter basket sitting outside his door. Sundays are always hard around here, getting everyone ready on time, avoiding meltdowns...you know how it is. Well, I was determined on Easter to not feel rushed and to actually be on time, for once. *Snort*...yeah right. So, I woke up earlier than the boys, showered, and began getting ready. I was almost completly ready before anyone else awoke. Success. But, somehow we still managed to be rushed in the end. I was really wanting to get an Easter pic of the boys before we left. Keaton spit up on his initial Easter outfit just minutes after being dressed. More like drenched. I tried to handwash it and throw it in the dryer, but who was I kidding...there wasn't enough time for all of that. So, a little disappointed, I scrounged up another outfit...outfit number two.

Just as we were about to go outside for the picture, already being a minute or two past the time in which we needed to leave, Keaton had a dirty diaper. No big deal really. I didn't panic, just headed to his room to change him. But, then as I opened his diaper I realized it wasn't just any dirty diaper, it was a blow-out. If you're not a mom and you don't know what that means, you soon will when you have one of your own. It was all over Easter outfit number two. At this point, I was beginning to hit that panic-level that I hate to reach...especially on Sunday mornings. I tried to get the oufit off of him without making a mess. Unsuccessful and nearly impossible with a onesie. So, I cleaned Keaton up, but left everything else to be cleaned up later. By this point I was a sweaty, stressed mess.

So, we ended up being about 15 minutes late for church. Grouchy, sweaty, and with no Easter picture. About halfway there I calmed down, cooled down, and realized that little things don't matter. Funny ending to the story. When we picked Keaton up from the nursery, he was no longer in Easter outfit number three. No, he was pantsless with a plain, old onesie that the nursery workers must have found in the bottom of his diaper bag. Outfit number four. Yes, another blow-out.

Welcome to our not-so-perfect life. Some days are just like that, even on Easter Sunday. And I guess I wouldn't have it any other way.