Anyone For Pie?

*I just found this in a file marked "blog", probably about a year old. Amazing how things change. Or don't.*

Roanen has been getting into EVERYTHING - climbing on the island, pulling stuff out of the cupboards, screaming ear-splittingly when something doesn't go his way or right into Tristan's face when he gets mad at him, drawing in pen on the wood kitchen table, cutting pages out of my books, throwing anything he can get his hands on at the baby, taking stuff out of the freezer, eating sand (not dirt, because that would be gross you know), throwing handfuls of ashes out of the burning bin and wiping his ashy hands all over himself, lying on top of Tristan, pulling Josey's ears, attempting to call China and/or 9-1-1, pulling all the wipes out of the wipe holder and scattering them around the house, standing up to pee in the tub just seconds after he gets off the potty insisting "It's not working!", stopping the washer mid-cycle without my knowledge (because although the controls lock, evidently "stop" isn't considered a control), standing on the top of the chest freezer, hammering dents into the wood coffee table, kicking the cat, helping himself to overflowing glasses of water in the bathroom, poking the snake with a toilet paper roll, unpotting house plants, taking all the cushions of the couch and pulling stuffing out of them, climbing up on the island and swinging the pots and pans so they clank around, and refusing, REFUSING, to have anything to do with the potty, underwear, or being without a diaper, tossing my engagement ring down the cold air return. Fortunately he makes up for it by doing things like announcing "That where Nonno lives" when we drive by any cemetery, asking "Why you mad at me?" very earnestly when he gets yelled at, gently grabbing our ears for a second as a part of his bedtime routine, open mouth kissing, giving Tristan toys to play with, eating all but the tiniest shred of core when he eats apples and pears, asking for "chicken on a bone" and eating until the drumstick is completely clean, letting Josey lead him around by the hand on "adventures" through the yard, running downstairs in the morning yelling "Mommeeeee! I had a GOOD SLEEP!" whether he was up 5 times or not at all, needing to be kissed in whatever exact spot he hurts ("No, ON my tongue!"), playing well on his own for long stretches of time, making me laugh every single time I walk into a room and hear "No, I'M in here!" because he wants to be alone while pooping.

In new news, Roanen has puked twice today. After the second time he (against my wishes) shovelled in toast and eggs, then asked for pie. When I refused to give it to him on the basis that he would probably just throw it up, he insisted that he needed it so that his throw up could be a new colour this time.

So I'm Not Nursing Anymore...

Roanen: "Uh oh."

Me: "Uh oh what, Roan?"

Roanen: "Your boobs are all gone!"

Stylisto

This morning I'm going to be volunteering at Josey's school. So far he has critically looked me over, announcing that I look "nice", but could he please see what I look like without my glasses on? The contacts went in, but then he asked if I could put some makeup on because my face was red. I'm just waiting for him to sniff me and tell me to put on some deodorant.

Because My Bathroom Doesn't Smell Pissy Enough.

On Saturday evening I went into the downstairs bathroom to get the boys' toothbrushes ready for them. I glanced around while doing so and noticed a puddle in front of the toilet and some droplets between it and the sink, most likely due to Roanen's earlier attempt at getting himself a drink of water with a floppy silicone muffin cup. Then I happened to look down into the garbage can. I wondered what had been put in there that made crumpled up paper towel turn yellow. Then I saw yellow droplets on the side of the bag and it hit me. I stomped into the kitchen where the boys were having their snack and asked Josey "Did you pee in the garbage?" He immediately got a wide-eyed deer in the headlights look on his face and asked innocently "How do you know I peed in the garbage?". Little bum. When he finally confessed (which he only did because I cracked a smile at the absurdity of the act), it came out that he wanted to "make a lake" in the can, evidently after he had already started in the toilet and couldn't stop the stream while he switched receptacles. Naturally I forgot all about it until we got home from Ottawa yesterday and now my bathroom reeks of old pee. I love having boys.

Get You A Waxin', Woman

Lately Josey has been watching too much adult television. He especially likes the commercials, because THEY PROMISE that their product is the best and that you DESPERATELY NEED IT. It started off innocently enough with the Food Network airing a Nutri-Slim commercial at least once every ten minutes. Josey was fascinated by the pictures of the food, especially the desserts (whose filming, I might add, required a zoom lens because of the tiny portion sizes) and would ask "Do you want to get that, Mommy?" every time it aired. Next came the Proactive commercials. Despite the fact that I (thankGodthankGodthankGodknockonwood) have had pretty clear skin since I was pregnant with Roanen, Josey feels that I also need that. Jessica Simpson and Jennifer Love Hewitt say so too. Then came Garnier Nutrisse. Both Josey and Sarah Jessica Parker would like me to see a dermatologist AND a nutritionist every day.

Thankfully I've managed to explain the concept of commericials to him so now he forms his own opinions. Opinions like, "You need to lose weight, Mommy" out of the blue. My personal favourite though is "It's just not right!" and "DO something about that hair - raze it or something!", spoken with utter disgust while gagging at the sight of my unmaintained nakedness. We've gotten him away from the tv, now if we could only pry Grampa's old Playboys out of his little hands. In the meantime I will have to aspire to be his ideal Mommy, a wrinkle-free anorexic with a brazilian.