The Very Belated Birthday Post

I know. I promised pictures from Wiggle Man's birthday party. Which was over two weeks ago. I humbly beg your most merciful forgiveness, and offer up these. There were lots more pictures, but they tended to feature prominently other people's children, or other personal details.



Here's the Wiggle's Wonder Pets cake, complete with modelling chocolate beads around the edge. Those were a hit with the kids; I think they liked them better than the actual cake. You should have seen their faces when I told them they could eat them!









Here's Wiggle Man casually lounging at the kids' table outside. If I could put a little cartoon bubble from his mouth here, he might be saying, "How YOU doin'?"





After a long day of cake and presents and hot dogs and moon bouncing (thanks for some awesome friends for lending us that!), Wiggle Man was pooped.







Kisses,

From The Mouths Of Babes

We've had a small incident here in our household. Nothing major, mind you. But enough to warrant a trip to the ER this afternoon.

No, not for Wiggle Man. For the Rev.

It seems there was a hole on the golf course yesterday where no hole should be, and the Rev found it with his foot. His ankle is now hugely swollen, words like "avulsion" were thrown around, and I'm trying not to picture what it looks like for ligaments to tear away from bone.

Anyway.

While explaining to Wiggle Man that we were taking Daddy to the hospital this afternoon, he got very excited. He exclaimed, "Daddy have TWO BABIES?"

Um, no.

You see, Wiggle Man's only experience with hospitals is visiting a friend in the hospital when she had her baby, and seeing pictures of me in the hospital when he was born. You see why he made the connection. Hospital=baby. Why two babies, I have no idea, except that another friend is expecting twins.

However, please do not take that as an omen, or prophecy in any way, shape or form.

Just puttin' that out there.

Kisses,

Dorothy, Dorothy and Max

No, Dorothy, Dorothy, Max is not some new version of Duck, Duck, Goose. (But that would change things up a bit, wouldn't it?)

Today is my little man's THIRD BIRTHDAY. Three. The boy is three. He's started pre-school, and HE'S THREE.

Ok, enough shouting. You get the point.

But still. Three.

Well, every time this now-three-year-old goes to the Walmarts, he has to, has to look at the fishies. He luuuuurrrves the fishies. He likes to look at all of the fishies, and find the ones that look the most like Dorothy (of Elmo's World fame, for those of you not living with a pre-schooler.)

Well today, for his birthday, Wiggle Man got to go to the Walmarts, and pick out his very own fishies (while Mommy picked out all the stuff that goes with owning fishies.) I present to you the end result of that trip, plus an hour at home while I tried to get it all put together.



The two goldfish are the Dorothies, and the Black Moor is Max.

I'll post a longer update about his party in a day or so when I have a minute.

Kisses,

Today

Today is decidedly better than yesterday. At least, so far today is better than the scary crazy parts of yesterday. You know, the corroding water heater and the child who lived in time-out and all of that.

I'm happy to report that thanks to the kindness of friends, my child took a bath the night before his first day of school. Also thanks to the help of these same friends, our shiny new water heater is installed. This means I got a shower the night before Wiggle Man's first day of pre-school. Because Mommies need to be clean and shiny the first day of school, too. I mean, I even did my make-up to drop the boy off.

As we speak (as I type?), Wiggle Man is at school, most likely happily playing with trucks if how I left him is any indication. I, on the other hand, got teary-eyed just looking at his little bin where he'll put his papers and letters home. Goodness me.

Now, since I know you all want photographic proof that Wiggle Man really is big enough for school, here you go:

A thousand apologies for the indoor shot; blame it on a Mommy to distracted by her baby growing up to change the settings on her camera. So I tried to cover it by making it look a little artsy. Because that's just how I roll.

Kisses,

Half Mulligan

I was going to write a post about how I wanted a do-over for today. But then I mentally reviewed the day and realised that most of the afternoon was fabulous. Wiggle Man and I met friends for lunch, and the kids played while grown ups had actual conversation.

The rest of the day, however, was less than fabulous.

Wiggle Man has been feisty today. Feisty is the nice way of phrasing it. The child has spent a lot of time in time-out. Mommy has spent a lot of time praying for patience.

I was getting ready to leave for lunch, and thought to myself, "Pants. Pants are probably a dress code requirement at Chik fil-A. Or shorts. Definitely something on my bottom half."

So I went into the laundry room to get shorts to match my clean tank tops. Upon entering the laundry room, my next thought was, "That's odd. My feet normally don't feel wet when I come in here." This caused me to look down and see the water all over the floor.

Awesome.

So I called The Rev, because well, he's a guy. Aren't guys supposed to handle this stuff? The Rev sometimes overestimates my skill in anything involving repair, and started giving me directions to turn off the hot water heater. Or something. I heard levers and breakers and valves....and then I interrupted him and begged him to just come home.

Wiggle Man ended up in time-out again. I can't remember why. It could have been because he thought dropping a pancake on my computer was "a great idea" (his new catch phrase), or it could have been any number of other things--they all start running together in my brain after a day like today.

We eventually made it to lunch, where bliss ensued for about three hours. (The cow at Chik fil-A is becoming very familiar with my son.)

Eventually, though, I had to come home. The insanity continued for the rest of the day. More time-outs over uneaten dinners, potty training "accidents" and the hot water heater? You guessed it--broken. Did I mention Wiggle Man starts pre-school tomorrow?

Sigh.

With that, I'll leave you. We're off to borrow a bath, and maybe another cup of sanity.

Kisses,



PS--thank heaven for spell-check. I spelled "feisty" as fiesty. FIESTA-Y. Definitely not an apt description for our day.

Ponderings

Things I'm wondering about:

Why one of my neighbours needed to start the car at 7 am this morning, blare the radio, then sit in the car--engine and radio roaring--for about 5 minutes before actually pulling out of the driveway. It was 60 degrees this morning. Not 30. Your car doesn't need to warm up. And if I can hear your radio all the way from my bedroom, it's probably too loud.

Why I love chocolate, and I love Oreos, but the new fudge dipped Oreos are not blowing my mind. They should, in theory. But they don't. The new pretzel M&Ms are genius, however.

How in the world Wiggle Man got to be (almost) 3 years old. I'm pretty sure it was just last month The Rev and I were celebrating that we'd survived parenthood for 3 months. (I'm not kidding. When Wiggle Man turned 3 months old, The Rev and I left the baby in the care of loving relatives, headed out to a romantic bed and breakfast, and promptly fell asleep for 3 hours. )

How has it already been a year since we moved down here? Friday was our move-a-versary. It's been a very good year. Southern living has been good to us.

Where did the summer go? And why is it supposed to be back in the 80s next week? The Canadian in me feels very strongly that Labour Day Weekend means cool nights and breezy days. I guess I'm not totally adjusted to southern living yet. Although I do appreciate the sweet tea. And the cobbler. And my mountains. And...well...a lot of things.

And with that, it's time for my (almost) 3 year old to put his curly little head down for the night.

Kisses,

Wiggle-isms

Just a few of the hilarious things Wiggle has said recently:

Wiggle Man: When I grow up, I play saxophone/drive fire truck/play drums/play dulcimer/play soccer/play for Toronto Blue Jays? (Um, totally yes to that last one.)

WM: Ouchie, Mommy, ouchie.
Me: Oh, baby. Does your head still hurt? (He had bumped it pretty hard the night before.)
WM: Yes. I broke me, Mommy. I broke me.

(Upon seeing me first thing this morning, having washed my hair last night and slept on it while wet:)

WM: What's this, Mommy? (Touching my hair.)
Me: That's Mommy's hair when it's curly.
WM: Curly?????
Me: Yes, curly. Mommy hasn't fixed her hair yet.
WM: Your hair broken, Mommy?
Me. Yes. Yes, it's broken.
WM: You fix it? (Grabs a curl.) Boing, boing, boing, boing...

WM: I hungry. I want a snack.
Me: You're hungry?
WM: Yes. I has a snack-ache.

This is why I spend much of the day laughing.

Kisses,