The Bucket of Doom

Last week, since it was Nora's 3rd birthday and Eric finally got two days off in a row from work, we decided to celebrate by hitting up the Great Wolf Lodge in Wisconsin Dells for a couple days. The first night, we got Nora a Rice Crispy treat the size of her torso. She went to town on that bad boy, which of course is normal for my little garbage disposal. She then passed out on the bed at 7:00 pm and slept til 8:15 the next day. This is not normal for her. It is in fact so outside the realm of anything completely resembling normal that really I should not even be using the word normal in conjunction with this activity. Because the two simply do not belong together. She shattered her previous sleeping record by a good, oh....two gazillion hours. She did wake up eventually, though. Then we continued our shenanigans at the water park and I tried to get a cute picture of both kids together. It didn't work.

The kids had a grand old time, as long as we stayed away from one part of the waterpark. You know how lots of places have those gigantic buckets that dump gallons of water on everyone periodically? And how must kids squeal in delight and scamper around delightedly under the deluge of water? Well, MY kids view this bucket as The Demon Bucket of Evil and Possible Disembowelment and Definite Torture. Once they saw that thing pour water on everyone, they turned and booked the hell out of there and didn't look back. Whenever it was suggested we just go see the bucket, from like 900 feet away, we were met with shrieks of panic until we finally just shut up about the damn bucket and gave up.

So....they found a little slide to play on. A slide that is about the size of the slide at the hotel waterpark a mile away from our house that costs us $5 to go play on. But, why not drive 3 hours and drop a few hundred bucks so the kids could play on a different 2 foot long slide? What else did we really have to do those days, anyway? So they went to town. Tate decided it was his job to direct children down the slide. A kid would climb up the steps, Tate would throw his hand up at said kid as he peered down to the bottom of the slide that was like 3 centimeters away to ensure there were no other children floundering around in the 2 inches of water at the bottom, and then give an authoritative nod to the kid, saying "Ok, you can go now. Have fun and be careful". The kids would look at Tate quizzically, inch past him, and get down the slide as fast as they could. Then Tate would repeat with the next kid. Six thousand times. That's what he did.

While he was doing this, Nora would frolic around and practice her new trick of dramatically belly-flopping into the water and laying face down for a good 5 or 10 seconds, just long enough for everyone around her to think she was dead. She would then hop up, howling with laughter, wipe the water from her eyes and do it again. It was....weird. Sure kept the lifeguards on their toes though. Interspersed with pretending to die a watery death, she would trot up to me and bellow that she wanted to go hooooooome. She didn't liiiiiiike the waterpark. I would tell her tough cookies, she better go have fun and ENJOY HERSELF, DAMMIT, and she would run off to practice the Dead Nora Float again for a few minutes.

So my kids have fun in odd ways. What else can I expect by now, really.

But Why Not?

Apparently there is a lot my daughter doesn't understand. Like the fact that markers will not magically start to taste like Skittles if you just suck on them long enough.

Also, we are at that lovely stage of toddler-hood where every single thing Mommy says is instantly questioned. She must think I have the mental capacity of a piece of cheese. She does the whole interrogation thing in kind of a...weird way, though

Nora: Mommy, is it Monday or Fruesday or Fliday or Sannurday today?

Me: It's Tuesday.

Nora: But why NOT? Why NOT, MOMMY?

Me: Uh, why not what? You asked what day it was. I told you.

Nora: WHY NOOTTTTTTT???????

Me: I DIDN'T DENY YOU ANYTHING!!!

Nora: Can we go to Chloe's house sometime?

Me: Sure.

Nora: But why can we go to Chloe's house sometime?

Me: Because you asked.

Nora: But why did I ask to go to Chloe's house?

Me: Because she's your friend. And her mom always has wine.

Nora: Why NOT???

Me: Why not what?????

Nora: But why is it why not?

Me: Are you really honestly trying to make me bang my head against the window?

Nora: But why do you bang your head against the window?

Me: Nora. Have you finished this round of torture?

Nora: NOTHING!!!!! I'M NOT GOOD RIGHT NOW!!!

So I've decided that when my kids ask me something I don't understand I'm not going to ask them "what?" anymore. They repeat themselves about 249 times regardless. I should save that energy for taking another bite of my cookie.

She also does not understand portion control. The thing still eats like an elephant. It's not an uncommon occurrence for me to go into the kitchen and find her teetering on one of the top shelves of the pantry rooting around diligently for more food even though she's already got 17 Snack Sticks sticking out of her mouth and four packs of fruit snacks stored in her diaper. I fully expect one day to find her fashioning herself some kind of satchel to sling over her shoulder for more functional storage. What's really fun is when she climbs the fridge. Ever stroll into your kitchen to see your daughter literally standing in the fruit drawer with her head so far in the cheese drawer you can't even see it? She must think she gets bonus points everytime she spills the entire jug of apple juice all over the floor. Because that happens every 20 minutes.

I can in fact hear rustling and chewing coming from the kitchen as I type this. She must have found the 5 lb chicken I have in the fridge. Or perhaps she was in the mood for a nice stuffed pork chop. I should go see if she's started on that satchel yet.

Oh Hi

Yeah, how's it going. Yep, it's been awhile. Me? Oh, doing fine. Still managing to skillfully dodge my children's' repeated attempts to strip me of any sanity whatsoever. Well, by "skillfully" I actually mean "crappily". And by "crappily" I mean "Who-the-hell-am-I-kidding-ly".

I've been pondering my return to blogging for a good while now, and have been rather intimidated at the idea, actually. SO MUCH has happened the past months that I almost don't know where to start. How far back do I go? How much do I share? I finally decided to just jump right back in, and let the blanks fill themselves in as I go. So, get ready to start having your world rocked again.

Tate has been in therapy for about 6 months now. It was a slow start, but I feel like we are truly beginning to see progress in him. The tantrums are dwindling, the moments of utter frustration on everyone's part as he struggles to control his emotions and impulses are becoming fewer and further between. Now, when people come up to him and say hello, 90% of the time he will either wave or shyly duck his head and say hi instead of just refusing to make eye contact or uttering any noise that doesn't sound like it should be being made by a rabid gorilla as opposed to a little boy.

School has been a struggle. It still is, but the daily problems are finally starting to abate as well. One of his therapists accompanies him to school and through many instances of trial and error, we seem to have hit on some successful methods and solutions to help him have a more "typical" day at school. And he's almost 5. Yeah, I know. He has grown so much in the past few months and he has come so far. And of course, as I write this, he is sitting behind me on the floor trying to clock his sister on the head with Buzz Lightyear. Hey, we can't set our expectations too high here, people.

Speaking of his sister, she is now almost 3. Yeah, I know. And holy crap, is she turning into a sassy pants. If she's sitting by me and I dare to talk or sneeze or inhale, she is very likely to turn to me and bellow "STOP ITTTTTT!!! DO NOT DO THAT, MOMMY! NOW STOPPPPP ITTTTTTTTTTT!!!!" And I sit and rock back and forth in a corner and recall those hazy days when she was but a happy, compliant, cheerful little bundle of lilac and sunshine bumbling around the house warbling ditties about world peace and puppies.

Getting her dressed is quite literally one of the parts of the day I dread most. Ever gotten a little heel direct to the teeth? It don't tickle, I tell ya what. She screams and caterwauls like I'm trying to peel her ears off instead of just trying to put a motherfreaking diaper on you, for GOD'S SAKE. So quite honestly, most of the time she scampers around the house in various states of undress and I pretend not to notice or care that a toddler has whipped me into such submission. I'm not even going to talk about what it's like trying to brush her hair. Most days we leave the house with her just looking like a homeless, ungroomed alpaca or something. Every once in awhile I manage to jab a barrette in there in the hopes that it will help. It doesn't.

So, life is still full of the usual stuff....looking for toys that haven't been seen in like 9 months but must be played with RIGHT NOW, looking for them again 30 minutes later when they get lost, ignoring various bumps, thumps, whines and screams, fighting the urge to bang my head against a wall when I realize that I've once again done something as stupid as bring both kids to a department store by myself, etc. I've missed recording all my moments of idiocy, desperation, annoyance, and believe it or not, pride, contentment and glee. Yes, it does happen. Shut up.

Hopefully I'll get back into blogging on a regular basis. If only for the reason that it gives me another excuse to pretend not to hear Tate tell Nora it's time to pretend they're going to dive off the moon into a cup. I've just realized there's too much stuff going on that I don't ever want to forget.