clean floors, dirty paws

We have had this slide sitting in the hallway for like six months!  It was mine as a child and I was so excited to set it up for Caches that I may have had Ryan assemble it a tad bit premature.  And so it sat, a perfect obstacle to stub a toe on for the past five months or so. Then, about a month ago when I couldn't find the baby (What?  Oh, I'm soooo sure you never misplace your baby!) I peeked down the hall and there he was, standing on the platform grinning.  Oops. Now he is quite comfortable going up and down though I still cringe every time he is climbing the stairs.  I mean toddlers aren't exactly steady or coordinated.  Nor do they pay ANY attention to what they are doing.  Caches, don't trip on Abner.  Caches the dog is right in front of you.  Caches LOOK DOWN FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!  I swear he might as well have his eyes closed! Anyway, here is a video of him sliding.  He would slide his pants down first, then slide down himself, collect the pants and re

I don't particularly like mommy labels, "crunchy," "hippy dippy," "green," "attachment parenting," "crazy!"  Okay, maybe one of those is an obvious fit, but what about all the other ones?  Is there a score card that I need to fill out to see if I qualify as a true "attachment parent?"  What if I don't meet ALL the criteria?  Does that mean all my efforts will be in vain?  What do you mean I don't get extra "points" for rinsing poop out of diapers every day?  And what the heck does it mean to be "crunchy," anyway? I'm going to be honest here, because I have a feeling that there are a lot of peaceful parenting, co-sleeping, baby wearing, cloth diapering, breastfeeding, vinegar to clean everything, homemade granola bar making moms out there that are not.  I know, I said I don't like labels, but if I don't label myself for the sake of this post then how will I tell you how much I suck

Because he kinda is...

Caches likes to brush his teeth.  Correction, Caches LOVES to chew on a toothbrush brush his teeth.  If he sees a toothbrush up on a shelf in another room he will gasp in awe and raise his arm pointing at it in all it's Oral B glory.  This has always been a pretty easy "give in," for me.  I mean why not let him chew on a toothbrush.  We designated a toothbrush for him and keep it with ours so whenever we brush our teeth he joins in and chews on his toothbrush.  Fun. The other morning we walked into the bathroom as per usual to brush teeth before our morning walk.  I grabbed both toothbrushes, put a dab of spry toothpaste on them and rinsed them under the faucet.  I put mine in my mouth and handed Caches his.  Simple, right?  Wrong. He threw his arms to his side, stamped his foot and screeched!  Ummmm, okay.  Does this mean that you don't want the toothbrush?  Nope, he wanted mine.  As I brushed, I tried a few more times to hand him "his" toothbrush but

"What did you do today?" Seems like a simple, thoughtful question.  But ask this question to a mother at the end of her day and it may not exactly produce the response you were hoping for.  Ryan and I have always checked in with each other during the day or at the work days end.  Just a quick reconnection, I like it, I think it is a nice habit to be in, but once I became a mom I kinda hated it! Like a lot.  All of a sudden it was a loaded question.  So much pressure!  I dreaded hearing it when Ryan came home from work.  "What did you today?" went form, oh Ryan is interested in my day to hey, Ryan is questioning me!  Or at least I felt like it did. Because even I didn't know what I did all day!  The hours passed and I was exhausted, but I had nothing to show for it.  No interesting stories to share, no yummy dinner prepared.  Hell, I was still in my pajamas half the time, my hair a tossled mess.  Did I brush my teeth today?   For quite some time

A little while ago, actually like two years ago, I wrote a little diddy about Ryan's inability to refill the small drizzle bottle of olive oil .  We all have our own olive oil chore, and for me it is replacing the empty roll of toilet paper with a new one.  I mean I HATE doing it!  Which is strange because I also can not stand when someone else does it wrong.  As in positions the roll so that the end hangs under.  How dare you do me a favor and do it WRONG!  It MUST roll over or I will have anxiety every time I step foot in the bathroom and I'll never be able to poop again!  If you haven't guessed already, Ryan is an end of the roll under toilet paper replacer! I almost couldn't marry him because of it. Bottom line, I don't like doing it, and because I am the one who uses toilet paper most frequently, for #1, #2, baby boogers, spiders, etc, I always seem to end up using the last square.  I swear Ryan leaves juuuuust enough for me to wipe and have to replace it e

I'm not sure if it is my dog that thinks he is a human or my human that thinks he is a dog,  But somewhere along the way the lines have blurred.   I'm fairly certain it is my fault, but in my defense, they are both really freakin' cute.  HA!  Look at Caches' two little gopher teeth peeking out.

The birds are chirping, the coffee is brewing and the sun is shining, it's a beautiful morning.  I put the dogs outside to poop do outside stuff while I prep the 14 some odd items that Caches may or may not eat one bite of for breakfast.  I sneak a bite of oatmeal into Caches' accidentally open mouth as I will the coffee pot to brew faster.  He rolls it around his mouth for a bit and I'm pretty sure he was actually going to swallow it...until Abner scratched at the back door.  Oatmeal, meet floor.  "Ouuu?"  "Yes son, the dogs are outside."  "Ouuuu?" As he walks to the back door.  "Yes son, let's let the dogs in."  "Ouuuuuuu?"  "Let me guess.  You want to go outside?"  The scrunched nose smile and fist banging on the door was a subtle hint. So we head outside, only one of us enthusiastically.  Why do kids like to go outside at six am?  I follow Caches to the swing and just as I begin to push the kitty emerges

Caches has had this horn, a gift from his friend Kiley, since his birthday.  For the past month he has been asking us to blow it for him with the occasional accidental sound on his own.  Then yesterday, out of nowhere he got it.  And continued to get it for a solid five minutes.  I'm sure my hearing will come back soon, enjoy.

Utter this word amongst a group of moms and you are likely to get an earful.  Sharing is either of the utmost importance for their child's "manners" or, like me, they think that sharing is overrated.  "What?!  Not only does this crazy woman flip off her baby and curse at her husband , now she thinks her child doesn't have to share!!??  That poor kid, surely he will grow into a horribly selfish, spoiled brat!" Okay, I hear you, but give me a moment to explain and perhaps, if you are an open minded listener you may sway ever so slightly to my side of the fence.  Or maybe not.  But if you do, don't worry, I'll share my side. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Today your two year old decided to bring her pink ball to the park.  Cute.  When you get there another little boy around the same age *cough, Caches, cough* comes up and wants to touch her pink ball.  He reaches out

It is World Breastfeeding Week , so I figured it was a good time to talk about boobies!  They aren't really all that special, we all have them, well all females do anyway, but for some reason they are a HUGE source of conflict, comparison and scrutiny.  And it starts from such a young age!  All of a sudden little Sarah has huge boobs in like 4th grade and all the boys like Sarah because of her magical boobies!!  Of course the other girls notice and either want to be like Sarah and stuff their bras or are jealous of Sarah and assume she is a slut because you know, if a boy that you like likes her instead then she must be! Later, girls start comparing their boobies size amongst friends, it is discussed between the boys at school, they are compared with the girls in magazines, and of course, the models.  Now suddenly everyone has either too big or too small, too perky or too saggy boobies; nobody seems happy with their boobies! Why don't my boobies look like HER boobies, you kno