When Animals Attack!!!

This is what happens when a nine-year-old sister teases a very tired two-year-old brother!

At least I don't have to worry about him getting beat up on the playground.

A Guest Post With Tommy

Hey y'all, my name is Tommy (aka Bubba, Tinker, Thomas Penny, Buster Brown--you know my mom, the queen of nicknames). She wanted me to tell you about the fantastic evening we had the other night. First of all, Daddy came home, and that makes me happy as a clam.

Every September, Gilbert has a week-long celebration of the Constitution, and it ends with a fireworks display on Saturday night. Since I think I ruined the 4th of July by being a little bit (ok, A LOT) naughty, I thought maybe I'd try a little harder this time. Of course Mom and Dad didn't want to fight the crowds, so we found a nice little park just south of Highland High where they were doing the fireworks. Mom and Dad brought lawn chairs and relaxed while Sister and I played at the little playground. The sky was clear, no wind, and the temperature was perfect. I only ran off once, and that's only because I was trying to uproot the stop sign, but it was stuck. When the fireworks started, we had the perfect view. I even sat with Mom and Dad for the whole fifteen minutes and said things like, "Uh oh, firetruck; boom, boom; cute; cool beans!" I cracked them up.

Anyway, gotta go. I'm off to bigger and better things now, like ransacking Sammie's bedroom or rubbing my toothbrush all over the bathroom mirror (it's one of Mom's favorites!).

Help! He's Created A Monster!

After another three-week adventure around the world, Tom finally came home today. Yeah!! There is more than one reason I'm a happy woman when Tom comes home . . . (nudge, nudge).

It's moments like this--when the kids get to spend time with their daddy. If you know Tom, these are his top three priorities (in this order, I hope!): family, flying real airplanes, and flying r/c airplanes. Lately he's been working with Tommy, trying to get him used to the controls, in hopes he'll start flying models with him soon. Looks like he's got a good jump-start.

The Culprit

Ah, yes, this could be the reason why I found a puddle on my bathroom floor, as well as a puddle on the carpet in the loft. Guess he thought it would go nice with the Chex Mix he dumped (and smashed) two seconds earlier.

Have I mentioned I can't wait until his daddy comes home?! Two more days, Tom, and he's all yours:)

Happy Birthday, Part 2

Daddy was out of the country for Sam's birthday, but we still tried to make it fun for her. Tom decided that since she's getting older (despite my attempts to stop it!), that she should make more of the decisions today (decisions fine, growing up, no).

I suprised her by picking her up early from school. She was then able to choose the following:

A. Where to eat lunch (YC's Mongolian)
B. Her Halloween costume (Punk Pirate--what the heck is a punk pirate?)
C. A new DVD (Camp Rock, of course, she's a 9 year old girl!)
D. A new outfit (Aeropostale--too bad the jeans don't fit yet)

We had as much fun as two girls can have together with a toddler in tow. Then tonight, the cousins came over for cake and ice cream. A sweet ending to a sweet day.

Frosting on the nose seems to be a common birthday pose for these two

Ty-Ty Small Fry and Tommy Tinker seemed to enjoy Diego and Dora popsicles more than the cake

Make a wish for something good, Sam-I-Am (like winning the lottery for your parents:)

This is Tommy's angry face (you can tell by the vein in his neck!) because he couldn't touch the "bawoons"

Happy Birthday to a Mommy's Best Friend!

Tooth #9

Tooth #9 on birthday #9

Lucky for me, the Tooth Fairy doesn't have to come this year, as the truth has been told, and childhood as she knows it is over :(

Sir Whines-A-Lot

Tommy Tinker was playing away quite happily in his room when I informed him it was time to go get Sammie from school. Obviously he wasn't very happy about being bothered, but then again, this is pretty much his general reaction to most things!

Happy Birthday Toots!

Here is the little brother . . .

Here are the birthday flowers . . .

Here are the birthday cupcakes (for school) . . .

And here is . . . the birthday girl!

More to follow . . .

Multiple Choice

You know you're the mother of a two-year-old (from h*#!) when you experience the following at the grocery store:

A. Getting slapped across the face because you won't give in to the demand for candy;

B. Your child decides to "show you" and throws a glass bottle of teriyaki sauce onto the cement floor (and it shatters EVERYWHERE); or

C. All of the above

Needless to say, he's not on my "good list" at the moment. Is it no longer "politically correct" to beat your child in public?!

**Disclaimer: I cannot be held liable for the things I just said. If you have ever been the mother of a little boy who is two, please don't judge too harshly.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

And this time it wasn't my kid--yippee!

At church I help teach a nursery class of rambunctious two and three-year-olds. Now back in the days of daycare, there's no way I would have accepted this calling. However, now that the only rugrats in my house belong to me, nursery is actually quite entertaining.

Take today, for instance. An unnamed little boy (who is only two, but talks VERY well for his age) had me rolling on the floor.

One of the little girls was playing with a baby doll and talking about how the baby wanted ice cream for breakfast. "No no baby, not for breakfast." Then the little boy, who has a new baby sister at home, joined in the ice cream conversation.

ME: Little boy, does your baby like ice cream for breakfast too? (I assumed he would come back with something like, "No, she's just a baby, silly teacher!!")

LITTLE BOY: No, she just likes to drink milk from my mommy's b--bies!

ME: Thanks for sharing--now, moving on to a new subject . . .

Jackpot!

Tom has a shelf in the loft that has a collection of (wait for it, wait for it . . .) airplane models! He has collected these Corgi models for the past few years, and has accumulated at least thirty or so.

Since Tommy has an affinity for anything boy--trucks, trains, tractors, cars, and of course, airplanes--he is always begging for me to take some down off of the shelf for him to play with.

Of course Daddy wouldn't be very happy if I did that, but last night, fate intervened. Tommy and I were in the loft, when for some strange reason, a "Flying Legends" book (also on the shelf) came CRASHING down and knocked about ten Corgi models down with it. After I recovered from my initial heart attack, I watched Tommy start scooping this little beauties up like a kid on Christmas morning! He handed the airplanes to me one by one so I could put them back on their plastic stands. He then proceeded to line them up and was fascinated with them for the next half hour.

Once he hopped in the tub, I put the dumb little planes (oops, I meant to say Corgi models) back on the shelf. Who knows, Tommy, maybe next time "Air Show: The Drama & Speed of Precision Flying" will attack and knock down some more little beasts. Until then, you'll just have to make do with your own airplanes.

It's Hard Being Two!

Poor Tommy--must have been a rough day at nursery . . .

Not Fair!

When Sammie was a toddler and not happy about something, she used to always say, "Not fair!" This week I totally agree, Toots.

Tom has spent the last seven days on the beaches of Waikiki. While I have been "at my post" working, cleaning, doing laundry, shuttling kids, and dealing with a sick two-year-old, Atlas was paying Tom to sit reserve in Hawaii. Let's just say his job description is a little more enlightening than mine right now!

On this layover, he had some time (let's just say oodles of time) to do a little sightseeing, and finally made it to Pearl Harbor (without me--not that I'm envious or anything).




But alas, his working vacation is coming to an end, as he moves on to Australia, China, Dubai, etc., etc. He was supposed to come home for a few days this week, but that of course has changed. That's the one thing that is certain with a pilot's schedule--it will ALWAYS change!

Working From Home

I consider myself very lucky to be able to work from my home office. No commute, and Tommy has never had to go to daycare.

However, it's not always all it's "cracked" up to be.


Take today, for instance. I'm upstairs typing away, and decided Tommy was just a little too quiet. Sure enough, this is what I found. He had even pulled a clean hand towel from the drawer and tried to clean it up himself.

Remember that Safety 1st contraption--the one I thought would keep him out of the fridge? Well, it didn't take him long to figure out that if he jerks the door over and over and over, it's bound to pop off.

You can't exactly tell from the picture, but his shirt says, "Born to Be Wild." I guess if the shoe fits (or in this case the shirt) . . .