A Planetary Lesson

It is a requirement that kids of a certain age must have a fixture in one's room known as a nightlight. You never know... there may be monsters in the closet or one lurking beneath your bed, ready to grab you by the ankles if you dare to go pee in the night. But, ahhhhh, the power of a nightlight. At the mere sight of it, monsters retreat back into the darkest recesses of a child's room. Like vampires, they fear light as much as children fear them.

But not just any nightlight will do, oh no! My kids have super cool nightlights. In the girls' room, a light show shines on the wall. Colors fade from dark blue to purple to pink then green before starting all over again. In the boys' room, a light shines on the ceiling that displays all the planets. When Phoenix didn't like not being able to see the planets on the ceiling from the lower bunk of his bed, Alyssa had the genius idea of plugging the light in on the wall directly beside Phoenix. The planets then brightly lit up the bottom of the upper bunk. Alyssa lied in bed with Nix and they claimed whose planets were whose. Alyssa properly identified many of them and Phoenix, like the parrot he is, mimicked her every word. Then they began assigning other family members their planets.

I could hear them; Alyssa said, "I have Saturn and Phoenix gets Neptune..."

I smiled listening to the kids so sweetly interact at a bedtime. Surely this would be a fond memory for them one day.

Phoenix continued, "and Maginnis get Mars and David has the Anus planet..."

I had been up in the top bunk with Maginnis scratching his back and nearly fell off the bed laughing. Alyssa was the only one that really got the joke so I had to explain that an anus was...well...it's...your butt hole. There. I said it. At that, the whole room fell apart.

While laughing until tears slid out the corners of my eyes, I recalled a friend in college. She had lost her I.D at a night club the night before and had to call the credit card company and report it lost. The customer service rep kindly asked if she new where she lost her card and my friend flatly answered, "Uranus."

Silence on the other end of the phone.

"No. Really. It's in Uranus."

More silence and then a clearing of the throat.

"Lady, it's a bar. Okay? Like the planet..."

Ur-anus. Now that's a funny planet.

Booger Collection

Never, and I mean never, try to out-gross a kid. You will always lose. As the boys and I were driving back from Kentucky over the weekend, I listened to them play the ultimate cut-down contest.

Maginnis: "You're slimy eyeball juice..."

Phoenix: "Yeah, well you're a dirty diaper..."

Maginnis: "You're a smelly fish breath head..."

Phoenix: "You're a dog and you lick your butt!"

Yep. I think the four year old won that round. Where does he get that material? Hmm...the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

David was giving Phoenix a hard time about having a snotty nose a while back. Basically, he told him that it's not cool to snort drippy boogers up into your brain and that it's even worse to let drippy boogers run down your lip and into your mouth. He told Phoenix that if he saw him with a boogery nose, he was going to pin him down, dig his boogers out with a spoon and add them to his booger collection in a jar he had hidden in his closet. Phoenix rolled on the floor and laughed until tears popped out of his eyes.

About a week later, David took the boys shopping at Publix. He zoomed the buggy around like a demolition derby car and the boys squealed with delight. Good thing I wasn't there, I might have had a heart attack watching him with the buggy. David brought the boys to a screeching halt in the freezer section, opened one of the glass doors, and began to grab frozen waffles. As he closed the door and turned around he was greeted by a smiling Nix, arm outstretched, finger pointing and a huge, yellow, oozy, crusty booger dangling.

"Here David, this is for your collection!"

Bips

There are some words that your toddler says that you will remember forever. For instance, a sippy cup is still called a bubba even though neither of my kids use one anymore.

If you were to ask Phoenix what his favorite cereal is, he would say "Peanut Butter Chocolate Flava" and would roll his head while saying it. Mind you, the cereal's real name is Reece's Chocolate Peanut Butter Puffs.

When Phoenix was about 2 years old, he called chips "bips." And boy did he love his chips. You wouldn't even think of taking the Pringles can from him.

"Back off my bips," he'd say.

That holiday season we had a party to attend at a friend's house. Many of the guests had kids and they had all brought new toys from Santa. Down the hall, the boys raced cars on the wood floor, while in the spare bedroom, the girls worked on an art project. In the living room, friends gathered around an enormous Christmas tree decorated with blue glowing lights and shiny, blue, retro-styled, glass ornaments.

As the evening lingered sleepy children found their way to their parents' laps or the warm laps of their parents' friends. I sat on the couch with Maginnis in my arms while Phoenix made the social rounds about the coffee table. Engaged in a converstaion with a friend I had not seen in some time (probably not since th last holiday party) I felt a subtle nudge from someone sitting next to me. When I turned my attention to her, she tilted her head in the direction of Phoenix. Looking up, I saw the entire room staring at Phoenix as he took bip after bip, licked off the salt, and then returned the bip to the basket. My gasp made everyone erupt into laughter.

Now every year, when we go to the same friend's house for their annual holiday party, I am reminded by everyone of the "bip licking incident."

Wall-E

With every Disney or Pixar animation there seems to be a wealth of material that becomes integrated into our family's daily language. For instance, when Finding Nemo came out, we possessively declared anything that was ours "mine, mine, mine, mine" like the seagulls flying through the sail of the boat. The little hyena from Lion King, with the voiceover done by "Cheech" Marin, said, "I'm so hungry I just gotta have a wilderbeast." That quote became the "I'm Starving" call out for the girls. I thought I would never hear the end of "Curse you teeny tiny toilet," from Despicable Me. Then, from the same movie, there was "I said DART gun...not [fart gun]."

Back when the movie Cars came out, I was trying to potty train Phoenix. Then I discovered a book called Potty Train Your Child in Just One Day, by Teri Crane (which, by the way, truly works). The book recommends throwing a potty party for your child, preferably a themed one. At the time, Nix was mad for the movie Cars. We had every Cars toy imaginable. He watched the movie at least once a day, had a big stuffed Lightening McQueen pillow, and Cars pajamas and slippers. For the party, I made a race track from the party room to the bathroom. Every trip to the bathroom became the Piston Cup (or in our case the Pissin' Cup).

Then there was Wall-E, the movie with the lovable robot who cleaned the Earth's garbage after man abandons the planet. Wall-E spends his days compressing trash and collecting trinkets. He is startled when he pulls the trigger of a fire extinguisher, naively throws away a sparkly diamond, engagement ring in favor of the hinged box he found it in, and is baffled by a lace piece made of straps and twin molded cups that end up on his face. This last piece, is a true curiosity to Wall-E or for that matter Phoenix.

Within days of seeing the movie, Phoenix skips from the doorway of my closet while I am getting ready in the bathroom one morning. He flashes his dimples at me before whipping my favorite black, lace, Victoria's Secret bra out from behind his back and over his eyes.

"Waaall-E" Phoenix impersonates.

"Silly..." I mechanically reply.

The Magic of Butt Fire

As I mentioned in an earlier post, boys relish in all things disgusting. So it comes as no surprise that farts are the world's most entertaining noise to my kids. I once bought Potty Putty for the boys. Ever seen the stuff? It comes in a plastic container shaped like a tiny toilet. The contents of the toilet look like slimy gelatin. When you dig your fingers into the side and then squish the contents back inside, it makes the most delicious of sounds - that of a very wet fart! The novelty of Potty Putty lasted for days and the laughter was heard for hours upon end until the stuff dried up into sticky gelatinous turds.

My boys love farts au naturel, too, of course. I once heard Maginnis fire one off with machine gun force. I was quite sure he had launched himself from his chair and that the seat would be riddled with smoking holes. The boys laughed until they couldn't breathe, methane gas, turned laughing gas.

Farts have become ammunition for Phoenix. If he doesn't want me to dress him, he fires a hot one in my lap. If I try to catch him to put him in the bath, he runs down the hall naked, bends over, and fires a ripe one in my direction before running away. When I listen to the boys wrestling with one another, I can always tell when Maginnis has Nix in a headlock.

"You better let me go, or I'm gonna fart on you!"

"Alright. Alright!" Maginnis relinquishes.

Yesterday morning, I pulled a very sleepy Phoenix from his bed and drew him into my arms for a quick snuggle before getting him ready for pre-school. He affectionately nuzzled his head into my shoulder then ripped one on my arm.

I could feel the vibration against my flesh and gasped in shock at his early morning antics, "Phoenix!"

"That's the magic of butt fire, Mom!" Phoenix whispered.

No kidding. Wait till he learns you can light a fart.

New Shoes

There are the simple pleasures of childhood. Remember them? A lollipop from the bank drive-thru, a sticker from the doctor, or a pack of bubble gum you could call your own, because mom said you didn't have to share it with your brother or sister. New shoes are one of those pleasures.

I took the kids shoe shopping for school. I hate shoe shopping. I always have one of two problems when shopping for shoes. Either the store doesn't have the sizes I need, or the shoes cost $50. I don't have that kind of money to spend on shoes that my kids are going to outgrow in a few months! Of course, every pair of shoes the boys fall in love with are the $50 variety with flashing lights and monster truck tire treads. I was on a mission this time. I would find cheap, cool shoes for school if it killed me.

Ahhhh (the heavens sing) as we enter Sports Authority. There are piles of shoes on tables at the front the store with a huge CLEARANCE sign. I thrust my hands into the heap of Nikes, Adidas, Sketchers, and Reeboks. Bingo! I score a pair of size 11, black, blue and silver Sketchers. Phoenix sees them and is tearing his shoes off like a super hero without a phone booth. I put the shoes on him. They are a perfect fit. I barely get the straps of Velcro attached before he is off and running down the aisles of the store. He runs like a gazelle. Like a mini track star. His smile is a mile wide.

"Mama. These shoes make me fast!" He beams.

You'd have thought they were cars the way he talked about them. I expected flames to shoot from the exhaust of his heels. If I lifted the tongue of his shoes, perhaps I'd find a tricked out engine. Needless to say, we sped to the register and I happily used my credit card to pay $30 for a pair of regularly priced $50 shoes.

Once home, Phoenix raced around the house. Everything was done in lightning speed (which is saying a lot for a four-year old). Perhaps he was absorbing nitrous oxide from the electronic, fuel-enjected, high compression, V8 engine of his shoes...or maybe he was just the happiest kid in the world to have new shoes. So happy, that he went to bed wearing them that night.

Naked Chicken and Seaweed Soup

Naked Chicken (nuggets)

What kid doesn’t love McDonald’s? And what kid doesn’t like chicken nuggets? Recently Nix decided that ordinary nugget eating was simply not entertaining enough. He developed a deconstructed nugget eating method that included peeling the fried crusts off all the nuggets, eating all the crusts and then eating all the nuggets. Weird. I know. Whatever – he’s four.

After an evening of skating with 5 kids (3 of mine plus friends), I took everyone to McDonald’s for dinner. As we all sat at the table, Phoenix began his routine deconstruction.

Colin, Maginnis’ friend, looked on with curiosity before exclaiming, “WHAT is he doing?”

Without missing a beat, Nix answered, “I strippin’ my chicken. I like ‘em naked!”

There's Seaweed in My Soup

Toddlers are so suspicious of anything new we feed them. They look at new food as if it were laced with poison and they might die from one bite. I usually keep my pantry stocked with chicken noodle soup and tomato soup, as they are both favorites with the kids. However, the last time I went shopping, I must have accidently grabbed chicken won-ton soup instead of chicken noodle. Hmmm. I made it anyway. I served the soup, sat back and waited for the questions to start.

Phoenix's nose scrunched, "What dis Mama?"

"Soup, Baby. It's chicken soup with a surprise on the bottom of the bowl!"

I'm thinking wontons are an awesome surprise.

Phoenix stirred his soup, green herbs swirling in broth, before his face turned into a full blown scowl, "Mama, you give me seaweed soup! I'm not eating seaweed!"

And he didn't.

Victoria's Secret Goes to School

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when the boys and their dad arrived back from Virginia with a pink blanket in tow; it was silk after all. Phoenix had long had a fetish for all things silk so it was no shocker he fell in love with a blanket belonging to his new baby cousin, Kyla. The blanket, which became known as Kyla Blankie, was divine: made of soft chenille on one side and satin on the other, it was plush and soft beyond the words of my then two-year-old.

I discovered my child's love of silk early on. When going to the fabric store, as I pushed the buggy down the aisles, Phoenix would reach his hand out touching all the fabrics as we passed by. If we went down an aisle of silk or satin, Phoenix's eyes would glimmer like that of crack addict about to get his fix. When I would get dressed for work and wore silk blouses, Phoenix would follow me around the house "petting" me. He would look at me with pleading eyes, "Mama, hold me." As soon as I lifted him, he would start to rub his cheek on my silken shoulder.

It got to the point where Phoenix would go into my closet looking for silk blouses. If the blouse had strings or sashes that hung down, he would yank them off the hanger and make off with his silky prize. Soon he discovered my lilac robe. He pulled it from the hook on the wall and wrapped himself inside. When it was time to go to school, he refused to let go his new found silk security blanket. So off to school he went with my Victoria's Secret robe.

I joke that when Phoenix is older, as least I know that he will spoil his future girlfriend and wife. She will have all the shiniest and softest lingerie. And when I come to visit my son, and see a silk bathrobe on the back of the bathroom door, I'll know where it came from.

Tiny Hands and Fly Dinner

Tiny Hands

Most kids want to grow up. When they are in kindergarten, they want to be in first grade. When they are in the 5th grade, they can't wait to get to middle school. Once in high school, they can't wait to graduate. Hurry up and grow up! Then there is my Phoenix. Once we had been snuggling in bed for a nap. We were playing and being silly, and I was telling him all the things I loved about him. I kissed his freckles on his cheeks and nibbled his little toes before placing his tiny hands in mine and professing, "You can never grow up. Mommy just loves you too much. You're so cute I want you to stay this size forever!" And so it was that Phoenix decided to never grow up. Now he says he doesn't want to eat sometimes because food will make him grow. Dangle a favorite food before him though and he'll quickly forget plans for stunting his growth - his want to stay small forever. As Phoenix munches on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich he says, "I will get big if I eat, but my hands will stay tiny. I just want tiny hands Mama. Tiny hands because you love them, right?"

They Had Fly for Dinner (Say What?)

David took all the kids to Taco Mac the other night so I could indulge in some alone time. When they all returned, I asked Nix what everyone had to eat.

"I had mac-n-cheese and so did Maginnis."

"What did everyone else get?"

"They had fly."

"What?"

I looked at David and asked Nix to tell me again what everyone had for dinner.

Phoenix looked at David and said, "You and Alyssa and Brookie had fly, right? What that called you ate, David?"

I saw something register on David's face. The ah-ha I know what he's talking about look.

"You mean wings, Nix. We had wings you goof."

Wings. Fly. I see the association now.

Brilliant Outwitting

Part of being a parent is staying one step ahead in the game of manipulation. As any parent of a toddler will attest, kids between 2 and 4 are princes and princesses of perverse behavior. If you say something is black, they will say it's white. So how does one go about outsmarting their kid while he or she is in the throws of establishing toddler autonomy?

Phoenix has what many kids his age experience, some form of sensory integration. He thinks the bath water is scalding, when it is luke warm. He thinks that fizzy soda is "prickly" in his mouth. He thinks certain shorts or pants are itchy and any food that looks suspicious must be disgusting so is boycotted. Given my son's often obstinate behavior in any of these given situations, I am faced with two choices, forced immersion or reverse psychology. In other words: playful torture or brilliant outwitting. So what do these two forms of behavior modification look like you might ask.

Here's an example of brilliant out-witting: The other night, we had BBQ ribs for the first time. Phoenix eyed his plate and started to give that whatever this is, I'm NOT eating it look. Before Nix could even protest though, David launched a test a wills. Nix, being of the mindset that what's mine is mine, was about to have his strong will turned against him.

"I love BBQ ribs" David growled in a monster voice.

Phoenix flashed his dimples at him.

"I'm a gonna eat all my ribs and then I'm a gonna eat all YOURS," the monster continued.

"NO!" Phoenix wailed.

David reached his hand towards Phoenix's plate, "I'm a gonna eat 'em up...YUM!"

Phoenix's eyes flashed: Do I NOT eat this stuff because it looks gross or do I let David STEAL my dinner (that I don't even want)? David and Phoenix stared each other down like two contending arm wrestlers. Without batting an eye, Phoenix grabbed a rib and ripped off a bite. He grinned like a champion with sauce smeared across his cheeks. Each bite the other took was an invitation to establish who was the alpha rib eater - David or Phoenix. Who would it be? They growled at each other and took ravenous bites like vultures tearing into roadkill. In the end, I think they both won. Phoenix didn't LOOSE his dinner to David and David WON the sticky smile of a new BBQ rib fan.

Grease Monkey

All parents know that if kids are quiet they must be up to no good! This is especially true when you have a precocious two year old. Kids seem to have a magnetic pull to all that is messy, disgusting, off limits, or out of reach. So it was, that one day I was taking a shower. Phoenix was playing on the floor entertaining himself with toys on the bathroom rug. It occurred to me, at some point, that I had not heard him in several minutes and so assumed he had toddled off to seek some other play with his brother. It was not until exited the shower that I discovered the horror of his mischief.

With cat-like dexterity, Phoenix had scaled the bathroom counter and opened every container within reach. The scene was that of a mad apothecary at work. Lotions, perfumes, salves, hair gels, and hairspray lay scattered on the counter. But what alarmed me the most was the can of Bag Balm. The distinctive square, green can with flowers and cow udders sat open. Its sticky lid on the floor and its contents nearly gone. On the counter sat Phoenix grinning wide. In his hands gobs of gooey Bag Balm oozed. The walls above the counter were gleaming with the yellow, petroleum salve that filled the air with its antiseptic scent.

Remember the days at camp when you were a kid? Ever played that game where you grease a watermelon and try to do some ridiculous relay with it? This became the challenge of washing Phoenix. Water ran off his expertly greased body like water off a duck's back. My kid had become waterproof! I scoured the walls with similar difficulty. I used every cleaning product in the house to degrease the walls. I finally gave up and resolved to the fact that I was going to have a uniquely stained bathroom backsplash. When we moved from that rental house, I giggled at the thought of the landlord trying to repaint the bathroom. I envisioned him running the paint roller over the "stain" and seeing the paint bead up like sweat. He would never know the story of my little Grease Monkey.

Long Live the Desk

There is something to be said about furniture that requires "some assembly." I bought a desk several years ago that, at the time, was the perfect solution for my home office/student needs. It was compact, had a built in filing cabinet, and had the ability to expand with a collapsable table. The hutch also provided loads of storage for other office supplies. What an awesome desk. For a mere $400, it took only 4 hours to assemble.

Over the years, this desk moved with me many times. I was the only one who knew how to disassemble it and then reassemble every time. On my last move, I came to the conclusion that the desk had seen better days. It was, after all, one of those particle board/laminate wood desks. I purchased a new desk and some matching bookcases and then began the process of disassembling my old desk one last time. I took pieces of the desk down the stairs and to the curb for garbage day. After hauling most of the desk outside, I decided to wait until the following garbage day to haul the hutch to the curb.

A week later, I dragged the hutch to the top of stairs.

Phoenix, very curious of my latest project, inquired, "What doin' Mama?"

"I'm taking the old desk to the curb so I can put the new desk together, Baby."

"Why?"

"Because the desk is old and falling apart so Mama bought a new one."

"Ooooh"

I went to my bedroom to get shoes when I heard a CRASH followed by a scream of terror or pain! I ran from my room with one shoe on. The hutch was smashed on the landing of the staircase and in the wall, two large gaping holes had been punched. I heard a wimper from the boys' room and found Phoenix hiding under his bed. I pulled him out and made sure he wasn't hurt. Phoenix trembled. He was more scared than anything.

We ventured out of his room and inspected the damage.

"Well, you did it this time!" I teased, "You killed it. You killed Mama's desk."

"I sorry Mama. I not want to kill your desk. I was helping."

"It's alright. He had a good, long life. Now let's take him to the graveyard."

Phoenix and I laughed as we dragged the remains of the desk to the curb.

The holes in the wall smiled.

It's Raining in the Kitchen

One evening last summer I drew a bath for Phoenix. Maginnis had showered the night before so was in charge of "supervising" his little brother's bath. My office was next to the bathroom and I could hear Phoenix's splashing and the boys' giggling.

Soon Maginnis came to me, "Mom, Phoenix is getting water on the floor."

"That's okay, just get a towel from under the sink and mop it up. Tell him not to splash water out of the tub though!" I directed without looking up from my computer.

Maginnis left the room and I could hear the vanity cabinet being opened. All too soon he returned.

"Mom, there's kind of a lot of water," Maginnis stated very matter of factly.

I sighed. Obviously, I was not going to get any work done with all the interruptions. I grudgingly went to the bathroom annoyed that bath time had become such a production. Upon entering the bathroom I stepped into what must have been an inch of water on the floor.

"Are you kidding? What's going on in here?" I imagined myself having looked like one of those cartoon characters with steam coming out my ears.

I grabbed more towels from under the sink, yanked Phoenix out of the tub, and became the dreaded psycho-mom, with raging eyes and veins popping out of my neck. I sopped up water as fast as I could while Phoenix stood naked in his bedroom door, dripping wet, and shivering. Then I heard it. A sound from downstairs. An unfamiliar sound that caused great alarm.

I hushed Phoenix from his incessant I sorry Mama's, "Shhh, what is that?"

I ran downstairs and saw water pouring from the ceiling onto the floor.

"This is so NOT cool, " I screamed, "You two are SO dead!"

This time I ran to the laundry room and grabbed towels. I threw them on the floor where a small lake was forming before running back upstairs to deal with the source of the rainstorm in the kitchen.

As I mopped up the last of the water, and wrung the towels out in the tub, I also picked up the tub toys. The last thing I threw in the basket of toys was a tall, red, plastic, Coca-Cola cup ~ the cup that had been used to bail water out of Phoenix's sinking boat (the tub)! From the hall I heard Maginnis.

"I told you there was a lot of water, Mom."

No Kill Phoenix

We all know that toddlers can be meladramatic but this tale tops them all. Last summer we were visiting my parents in Tallahassee, Florida. Their house sits on Lake Jackson and their backyard is a labor of love and their pride and joy (aside from their grandchildren of course). At one end of the pool is a gazebo and at the other is a pond filled with Koi fish. The waterfall cascades down rocks and boulders handpicked by my dad (otherwise know as Papa Bear) and brought from as far away as Michigan.

Much to my mother's horror she discovered a black snake living among the the rocks of the pond.

She shrieked to my dad, "I hate snakes....just kill it!"

I herded the kids in the house as I saw my dad appear pondside with a small pistol. We stood at the windows of the Florida room as my dad and mom crept about the pond. Mom poked greenery with sticks and Dad squinted ready to fire at anything that moved.

"There it is!" Mom squealed.

"Don't move, I've got him," Dad uttered with authority.

I heard the gun go off a few times and assumed they must have killed the bugger. I hugged Phoenix in my arms and went back outside with Maginnis trailing behind me. I wanted to show them the dead snake. Upon reaching the deck above the falls, Dad hollered, "Don't move!"

I saw him take aim, and the wheels in my head frantically spun. The snake wasn't dead. He had missed. He had gotten away. Dad was going to shoot again and there was no time to get back in the house. There was no time to warn the boys either.

BANG! A blood curdling scream pierced my left ear and Phoenix frantically clung to me, shaking with terror.

"We got him this time!" Mom celebrated.

"You shot me! Papa Bear shot me!" Phoenix wailed, his hands flying to his neck.

It was hard not to laugh as I ran my hands over every bit of Phoenix's little trembling body. I repeatedly showed him my hands to prove there was no blood and that he was bullet free. He looked at my dad with a somber "how could you" countenance and grabbed at his neck sure that he had been shot.

"Papa Bear killed a snake. He would never hurt you, Baby," I reasoned.

"Kill snake? No kill Phoenix?"

"You're perfectly fine," I assured.

Prinklely Toes and Grossipes

Prinklely

As I was loading the kids into the car the other day, Phoenix observed my fresh pedicure.

"Mama, they are very prinklely!"

"What?" I couldn't imagine what on earth he was talking about.

Phoenix smiled and pointed to my toes. The gears in my head were grinding trying to decipher what he was trying to say when it came to me!

"You mean pink and sparkley?"

"YES! Prinklely!"

Grossipes (Gross + recipes)

I have learned having boys, that if you can't beat them, join them! Boys are gross by nature. They love to have disgusting conversations about anything. They will show you the black dirt under their toes while trying to shove their filthy tootsies up your nose. They run around the house naked. They bend over and shake their bare bottoms at you. Boys will will tell you the color of their poo (and yes if they eat Rainbow Goldfish crackers it will be neon green).

While on our last trip out of town, when the DVD player no longer entertained the boys, and the DS was "boring," I decided to invent their kind of fun.

"Let's make up recipes and see whose is the grossest. I'll start. I'm going to make a pickle sandwich with peanut butter, flies, and flaming hot Cheetos smashed inside!"

The boys ewwwed in the back seat.

Maginnis was next, "I'm going to make a worm cake with marshmallows, moldy cheese, farts, and David's face (my boyfriend)!"

Maginnis was laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face.

"I get a turn, Mama!" Phoenix demanded.

"Let's hear it!" I cheered.

"I'm going to make something really gross. I'm going to make a pizza with boogers, poop, pee, and diarrhea!"

That was it...game over.

"You win! You're the most disgusting child in the world!"

The Low Down on the Wipe Down

While my kid can't be a comedian every day, I have several stories from the past to share. Those of you that have kids can appreciate this and those of you that don't have something to look forward to. I began searching thru photos to prompt today's blog and came across one taken about 18 months ago. At the time the photo was taken Nix had just finished potty training and we were visiting my sister in Indiana. Just because your kid may know when he has to go doesn't mean he has the art of "wiping" down.

Now, at age 4, Nix will call me from the bathroom, "Maaaaama....come wipe my butt!"

Imagine my gaping jaw upon entering the bathroom 18 months ago and finding my child, feet dangling, bottom hanging in the pot, and a mountain of toilet paper next to him on the floor.

I tried to look serious and asked, "Phoenix, what happened?"

"Mama, I try to get paper but d'ere was too much!"

My serious charade came crashing to the floor with laughter.

Some of the most amusing moments seem to happen when Nix is in the bathroom. For instance, why does my child feel the need to profess his love for me while doing his business?

Nix bellows from the bathroom, "Maaaaaama?"

"Yeeees, Baby? You need me to wipe you?"

"No, Mama. I just love you."

And if that's not enough, when I do my obligatory wiping he leans forward, wraps his arms around my knees and says, "Mama, I love you sooooo much."

Nobody told me before having kids that taking your kid to the potty would be such a bonding experience!

Of course sentimental potty bonding time does not go both ways (much to both my boys dismay).

"Believe it or not...Mommy likes to go potty alone...with the door closed...really!"

I'm met with the deer in the headlights look. Blink. Blink.

"I'm closing the door now."

My boyfriend on the other hand has introduced a whole new level of grossness to potty time.

When he "pollutes" the bathroom, he entices the boys with "Hey, did you leave some money in the bathroom? You better go and look; I think it might be yours."

Maginnis looks cautiously at David. Phoenix takes off running straight for the gas chamber then comes out green, coughing and laughing.

Meanwhile, the girls (who know their dad's game all too well) say, "We told you not to go in there!"

This Blog's for You

Being in the profession of writing, one might think I would have picked up blogging a long time ago. Truth be told, despite the fact that it is easy, and God knows I have stories to tell, it is a creative craft I have never made time for. Every day at work I search numerous blogs and people's Facebook pages. I have become accustomed to the format and various uses for blogs. It's always fun to see what people choose to write about and how large a following they attract. So, with this class's requirement of creating a blog, I'm off and running.

Now what am I going to write about? Well, they say that everything happens for a reason. And it just so happens that my family and I have been talking about "Youtubing" (yes, I made that word up) the youngest member of our family. I see that this is the perfect opportunity to broadcast the silly sayings and daily antics of my lively four year old, Phoenix or "Nix."

Before introducing the character for this blog though, let me tell you a bit about myself and my family. We are a Brady Bunch made up of me and my two sons, Maginnis (6) and Phoenix (4). Then there is my boyfriend, David, and his two daughters, Brooke (11) and Alyssa (8). We have 2 cats, Xuni and Marley and an old, fat beagle named Riley that snorts and waddles like a pig.

As parents, we can blame our children for both our gray hairs and laugh lines, our sleepless nights and early mornings. In our house we have crushed crackers in our couch cushions, sticky door knobs and sparkle, blue, bubbleberry toothpaste smears on the bathroom counter. I'm pretty sure there is dirty Spiderman underwear on the floor in the boys' room and wet towels on the floor in the girls' room too. Welcome to my house, my life, and my family.

Before I go to bed each night, I check on sleeping kids. Tonight I find Brooke asleep in her bed - her long dark hair spread across the pillow. Maginnis is softly snoring from the top bunk, Alyssa is asleep inside the tent pitched in the middle of the boys' room and Phoenix...where oh where is my Phoenix? I find him in the closet passed out on top of a pile of stuffed animals. His legs are scrunched beneath him like a frog. Of course he's asleep in the closet. Where else would he be?