Friday, February 27, 2015

At least this time it actually snowed...

Of course, I was already at work, so no snow day nap for me.

Most people decided to leave early because of the weather, which made no sense to me since no one can drive in "winter" down here and the highways (no joke) looked like this:

Ironically, if they had simply stayed put, the snow stopped falling and the
roads were fine by [what would have been] rush hour.

I can't complain, though, because it is pretty.  And rare.

Baby's first snowball to the face
(compliments of Trevor)

Tomorrow is going to be fun.  At least until it all melts.

On having a three year old...

Someone asked me recently why three is so much more...ahem..."interesting" than two was.  After all, they asked, isn't it the "Terrible Twos"?

And, yes, two does have its own unique challenges.  But I think most of them stem from not being able to communicate very well.  By three, these little people are armed with a vocab arsenal and a giant bucket of sass and preposterous "I do it myself" attitude.

But my favorite go-to example that sums up three (at least for me) is as follows:

Three is...throwing a fit because you want someone to help you zip up your jacket, and then throwing an even BIGGER fit after they do because you "want to do it" yourself.  But, because you are three, you know how to UNZIP your jacket (take that, MOM!).  Which, unfortunately for everyone involved, now means your jacket is now unzipped again and OMG, YOU NEED HELP RIGHT NOW because all zippers MUST BE ZIPPED!  But, for the love of God, don't help because...well, we have already covered that.

Oh, and just to clarify?  The jacket can easily be substituted for ANYTHING YOU CAN IMAGINE (and some things you can't).  I'd advise you to pick your battles, but - really - there is no point.  There is no right answer.  There is no winning.  The only consolation for a parent of a three year old is that you can still pick them up (sometimes kicking and screaming) and carry them wherever you need them to go.

But, don't worry, there is good news!  Three year olds say the most hysterical things.  Granted, a lot of it is completely 100% irrational, but - if you are like me - that only makes it better. 

(I try so hard not to laugh, but sometimes I just can't help it.)

(Mom of the year, I know.)

Tuesday, February 24, 2015


I honestly thought we were going to skip winter this year.  Especially when it started getting into the 70s mid month and things started to bloom.  And then *WHAM*.  We had an ice storm.  Which, tragically, means that Banner now thinks ice is snow.  

(College me is mortified.)

Also, I'm pretty sure my wisteria isn't going to bloom ever again after Mother Nature has fooled it with late freezes two years in a row.  And it had buds already!  BUDS!  Shame.

Work has been a doozy lately, so - honestly - a couple of random days off here and there for ice were fine with me.  My house never feels as warm and cozy as it does when it is cold outside and I'm home with my boys.  

Here are some of my favorite pictures:

I sent this to one of my college friends and she laughed.

The girls stole his bed.  Haskell was not amused.

Can't wait to experience "winter".

To be fair, that is solid ice.

The brisk temps turned the dogs back into pups!

Sadly, "winter" killed my rain gauge.  

Obligatory photo of our patio furniture.  You are welcome.  

Banner kept calling the ice snow.
Even Haskell was embarrassed.

And because I really don't know what to say about Dallas overreacting to winter yet again (except that the naps I took were GLORIOUS), here is a video Trevor took of Banner in the backyard.  The downside to "snow" days is that it is getting really, really, REALLY hard to wear that boy out.

Friday, February 20, 2015

True story...

Me around three.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it here, but I suffered from night terrors as a child and - for whatever reason - never outgrew them like I was supposed to.  So, basically, I still talk, shout and - occasionally - scream in my sleep.  The night terrors are so scary because I'm somewhere between asleep and awake when I have them.  Or, rather, I'm awake and something from the dream world still lingers.  So, I know I'm in my bed.  I know I am waking up.  And everything is as it really is (i.e. I see my clock, hear usual house-at-night noises, feel Trevor beside me, etc.), except that, say, there is a giant spider jumping towards my head or my duvet is covered in ants or there is a scorpion on the ceiling.  You know, that sort of thing.  The WORST one I've ever had was when I was in graduate school and woke up to find a man with a knife standing at the foot of my bed.

Good times, right?


So I scream bloody murder, occasionally throw things (like a pillow or blanket) or jump out of bed because SPIDERS! ANTS! SCORPIONS! HOMOCIDAL MANIAC! and more or less freak everyone in the vicinity out. 

Or did.

Nowadays, Trev just rolls over and says in annoyed voice, "You are dreaming.  There really isn't [fill in the blank] on us/over there.  Just go back to, no don't turn on the light...wait...okay, now that the light is on, do you believe me?  Please turn off the light now."

The last time I shared a hotel with my father (this was YEARS ago), I had one, and his response was very similar to Trevor's:  "OMG, You still have these things?  You are fine.  Go back to sleep!"

Even the dogs don't care anymore.  There was a time Gypsy would run over and lick me in an effort to comfort/wake me.  Now she just sighs and groans as she rolls over.

Clearly, no sympathy for me.

Anyway, they really aren't that big of a deal.  Yes, they are freaky, but I can't remember ever NOT having dreams like these.  Plus, they aren't nearly as frequent as they were when I was a kid, and seem to be triggered by things like stress and travel.  They are just one of those things you get with the whole ME package.  And the good news is that I'm totally fine once I turn on the light and reassure myself that whatever I thought I saw isn't really there.

(Except for the guy with the knife.  Just try going back to sleep after that.  I dare you.)

The thing is, Banner has started having night terrors.  Which, in itself isn't that big of a deal because they are very common in childhood.  But - just to be safe - I asked Banner's pediatrician about them at his three year old wellness, and he said there is a very good probability that Banner will never outgrow them either. The good doctor’s advice? “Don’t tell Banner’s significant other about the night terrors until they’ve already exchanged vows at the alter”. Trevor’s response? “Aint that the truth”.


Poor kid.  Looks just like his daddy and gets all his weirdness from me.

Or, better yet, maybe we BOTH get our weirdness from MY father?  Because:

(Don't ask.  I was there and I still don't understand.)

Friday, February 13, 2015

Another episode of Bannerisms...

Banner with a stuffy nose: "Mama!  There's a bug in my nose!"

I put a little VapoRub under his nostrils with the hope that the strong menthol odor would help open him up a bit.  I guess it did, because the next day I caught him trying to smear it all over his face and chin to "get the bug out again".

He thinks pickup trucks are called "hiccups".

New mantra when he wakes up in the morning:  "Mama, I a very hungry boy!"

Thinks the word "computer" is the funniest thing ever.  Because it involves the word "poot".  Com-poot-er!  OMG.

Equates the word "disgusting" with "poopy diapers".  And yet, will call me into his bathroom LIKE HE'S TRAPPED AND THE ROOM IS ON FIRE to marvel at the "really, really BIG poop" he just unloaded into the potty.

Has learned that the Hulk's real name is Bruce Banner, and now tries to attach the word "Banner" to all his favorites.  For instance, Spiderman is now "Peter Parker Banner".

In related news, I don't know how we are going to tell him that he was named for a family member, not The Incredible Hulk.  Maybe this TRUE STORY will help?

During dress up, if you ask Banner what his real name is, he will respond with the alter ego of whatever character he is currently dressed up as.  We are still a little iffy on our colors (the kid just doesn't care if the grass is green or not), but we KNOW that Captain America is really Steve Rogers and that Ironman is Tony Stark.  Again, priorities...we got 'em!

The kid got his neck stuck in a key chain.  Yet more proof that he really is MINE.

Related:  He gets "stuck" a lot in general.  I can totally relate.  Just ask anyone who knew me in high school or college (or, you know, in general). 

Banner can be throwing a fit on the floor, and will insist that he is "a happy boy".  It takes all my will power not to laugh.

His number one excuse why he can't listen?  He doesn't want to.  At least he is honest?  Anyone?

On the flip side, Banner desperately wants to be a "big helper".  The kid is happiest when he is doing you a favor or helping out in anyway.  The only caveat is that he only wants to help with certain things (i.e. bringing mommy her purse, putting shoes away, feeding the dogs, etc.).  Sadly, helping to clean up his toys is never something Banner wants to do.  Obviously, it isn't always a choice (and sometimes he happily complies), but just as often it is a major struggle.

Randomly walks around the house or mall doing his karate drills:  "Out!  In!  Tuck!  KIAI!"

Banner is OBSESSED with the song "Hooked On A Feeling" except he calls it the "hoo hoo cha cha" song.

It is equal parts adorable and alarming that Banner knows so many lyrics to so many songs.  Adorable because OMG, have you ever heard a three year old sing?  And alarming because I'm not sure everything Trevor and I listen to is...umm...appropriate for his age.  Then again hearing a three year old sing along to Riptide and announce, "I swear she's destined for the screen/Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen," is pretty much the highlight of my day.

When someone comes over, Banner either says, "Wanna play with my trains?" or "You can play with my trains if you want to".  Both kill me.  PLAY WITH THAT KID ALREADY!

Related:  When Banner walks up to Trevor and says, "Daddy, wanna wrestle?"  How do you say no?

Someone please lie to me and tell me "pooting" (as Banner calls it) becomes less funny as boys get older.  Thanks.

Banner:  "Uh oh!"

Trevor:  "It's okay.  U-verse just timed out.  It will be back in a second."

Banner:  "It broken?"

Trevor:  "No, it's fine, buddy."

Banner:  "Daddy fix it?"

Trevor:  "All we need to do is be patient.  It will fix itself in a second."

Banner:  "Be patient?"

Trevor:  "Yes, buddy.  Patience.  You don't have it."

Banner:  "Oh.  Okay."