Brotherly Advice

You know what I love? (I ask this question not "Do you care what I love?" because I KNOW you care about what I love. Otherwise, you're not reading this scintilatting bit of fluff.) I absolutely love hearing my big boy, you know, this dude, the one hauling our dog across the front yard to throw her in his tiny pool.  

I love hearing him, when he's not hauling around the livestock, lecture his little brother about sharing. He said, and I quote, "You have to share. Jesus doesn't like it when you don't share. It's not nice."

Sound advice, I'd say. Actually, I think it's bordering on wonderful since it's exactly what his father and I have told him countless times. And yes, I love this because I'm proud that he's listening. I didn't mean it that way though. I was being somewhat sarcastic. I know that you find it hard to believe that I would be anything other than completely forthright and plainspoken in my interactions with my children and my writing. It's a character trait that I've tried to hide but now you know, I can be a little sarcastic sometimes. And a little facetious. And perhaps a little acerbic. I apologize if this comes as a shock to you.

The reason I enjoyed this much-needed and often-repeated lecture on sharing was because the punk actually giving the lecture is the same one who has wholloped his brother over the head to take something from him and the one who has screamed with so much dramatic flair that Joan Crawford and Bette Davis would have pronounced him over doing it a bit, and again, this is a quote, "I won't share! I'm never going to share ever again!"

Just found this post. Don't know where I was going with it so don't know how to finish it. Hope you enjoyed it though.

My Dog Ate My Blog Post

Though I wouldn't put it past one of the despicable animals, I mean, they have eaten shoes, toys, and kittens, the dog did not in fact eat my blog post. At least as far as I know. If I was shooting for a realistic excuse I would've said my baby ate my blog post, I mean, he has eaten shoes, toys, and kittens. Well, he nibbled on them. Shoes, toys, and kittens. He never actually swallowed one or anything. As far as I know.

I was writing another post very soon after the last one I posted. By very soon I mean a day or two. I was considerably into it when something happened. I pushed the wrong button or something. I'm going to blame it on the baby. He's always a good fall guy. He's too cute to get into any trouble. And he always blames everything on his older brother. When this something happened, I assumed my draft to that point had been saved because it usually works that way. When I went back a couple of days ago to work on it some more, I couldn't fnd it. I'd added pictures and everything. And now I can't remember what I was writing about. The pitfalls of old age I guess. No, wait, I'm not old. I'm 29. Yeah. I'm 29. I keep forgetting. Part of getting old I suppose. No! I'm not getting old. Sheesh!

So, I guess I'll just start all over. I posed the question a few weeks ago on facebook..."Do you know what happens when you give a 2 year old a snack sized Oreo McFlurry in the car and tell him to be careful and not spill it?" Assuming this question was rhetorical, no one answered. I had posted a picture along with it though so there waw really no need for a response. You know what they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. That may well be true, but I don't make a living with pictures. Words are my bread and butter. Well, they're not really my bread and butter. Trains are my bread and butter. Words are my obsession, I guess you could say. In light of that, here is an illustrated list of what happens when you give a 2 year old an Oreo McFlurry and tell him to be careful and not spill it.

First of all, he laughs maniacally because he now has physical proof that his mother is a SUCKER.



Second, if the pictures are any indication, he takes 2 drinks then rubs the cookie-laced ice cream concoction all over his hands, face, and knees.

Third, he sticks his tongue out at his poor beleagured mother because he knows she's in for it when Daddy finds out. After all, Daddy had just spent the afternoon cleaning out her car. And when Mommy rats him out, which she most definitely will do, as she's know for her tendancy to throw absolutely anyone under the bus to save her own hide with very little incentive, he knew all he would have to do is tell Daddy, while looking at him with that now perfect smile, "I wuv ewe." He'd never see the first second in time out and we both knew it.

Fourth, he hangs his head in shame because Mommy has just lectured him about ruining a white shirt and shorts that both of his brothers had worn without destroying. He appears contrite but secretly he is proud that he did something neither of the older BKs was able to do. Even if it did make him Mommy scream like a banshee most of the 25 minute drive home.



Finally, he has the nerve, the unmitigated audacity, to tell his mommy that his hands are "icky". Since my son is working very hard to create his own, much more simplified language where "shosher" means shower, flip flop, and trailer, I understood that this meant his hands were sticky and he wanted to wash them. I suppose he was unconcerned with that his legs were sticky, his feet were sticky, his knees were sticky, and his face was sticky, not to mention the fact that the ice cream was in the buckle of his car seat and there was a good possibility that he would be stuck there. Of course, this really sent his mother over the edge.

One of these days there's going to be something really wrong at my house but no one is going to pay any attention because they're going to think I'm screaming at one of the kids again. Big BK now says I'm a yeller. I'm okay with that. I told him to keep it up and I'd be a yeller and a spanker. He wasn't scared. I'm not sure why.

The next morning, after I wrote this, I'm posting it. I went to my blog and couldn't find it. I clicked on drafts and there it was. Along with the last one I wrote and lost as well as like 6 others that I've started and haven't finished. So, here you go!

Just a Quick Post

Day before yesterday I drove the hubby's Explorer to work because the weather stunk. I went out for lunch. When I have lunch I purchase my food then sit in the car and eat and read. It's my 2 favorite things, eating and reading. :) I went to Taco Bell and ordered a Chicken Ranch taco salad because I thought, why not. I haven't had any lettuce in a while. If you know anything about Taco Bell taco salads, they are 95 percent lettuce, 3 percent rice, 1 percent beans, and 1 percent meat. (I have never conducted a scientific study on this topic, or any other topic for that matter, but I'm pretty sure that's how it breaks down.)

I was sitting in the Explorer, putting the ranch dressing on my salad when I moved funny or something and then entire thing flipped out on to the console, seat, and floor. A large portions spilled. Well, a large portion of lettuce and chicken spilled as the rice and beans were attached to the bottom of the bowl. Hubby hasn't mentioned it but I know the Explorer smells like Ranch. I only had 3 napkins to clean it up and it required way more than 3 napkins. I scraped the larges part off of the hard and soft surfaces with my fingers to conserve the napkins. Which leads me to another thing that you may or may not know about BKCMom.......

I will eat Taco Bell Chicken Ranch Taco Salad off the floor of an automobile that isn't too dirty.I paid a good portion of my semi-hard earned income for this salad and it only had a bout 4 pieces of chicken in it to start with. I couldn't afford to lose any. Well, actually, I guess in an effort to preserve the integrity of this blog, I have to be honest and say that BKCMom will eat just about anything off of any floor that looks like it's been cleaned relatively recently. You had no idea I was so disgusting, did you. Well, I guess if you've ever lived with me you do.

In other news regarding my other favorite things.......

I came home from work last week and heard the boys in the family room playing. Hubby was in the living room working on a fire. The boys were in the family room playing....for those of you with somewhat weak constitutions and absolutely no faith in my or hubby's ability to parent well, you might want to stop reading this. The cushions were off of the couch because hubby had vacuumed under them. He said he had to empty the vacuum cleaner twice during the cleaning because it was so dirty. That may or may not be an exaggeration, it's hard to tell with him sometimes and the couch really was dirty. I'd seen it. Then I pushed the cushions back and pretended that I hadn't seen it. In the immortal words of my aunt, you could've sewed lettuce under them. Like I said, the cushions were on the floor. The bar stools were pulled away from the floor, out in the middle of the floor, away from the bar. BabyBK has only recently learned how to climb on the bar stools, a skill that he most definitely needed to be a well-rounded 2 year old. My children, and this is where our parenting is going to be questioned, were climbing on top of the bar stools and jumping onto cushions. Oh, and one of them missed once.

I will respond only to comments and emails that don't threaten to call social services. I will refer all others to my lawyer....:)

Our Vacation

I had Thursday off for Veteran's Day. I decided to take Friday off too just because I wanted to. I rarely get to take a day off just because I want to. Usually it's because someone is sick or I've got to go buy a SUV or something like that. This time it was just because I wanted to. It was really kind of naive on my part to think that it would be a vacation. As if I would ever be allowed to sit around the house and not do anything. I guess I'm still naive despite my advanced age because that's exactly what I thought I'd do. Needless to say, it didn't happen. This post is two weeks later. I'd started it much earlier and got busy and couldn't finish it. Now, 2 weeks later, I don't remember what I did that Thursday. I only remember that I was busy. I think I might have spent part of the day updating catering info. That Friday, I spent the morning getting caught up on laundry and putting clothes away. 2 weeks later, I'm behind again. Anyway, after laundry, the boys and I went to clean the church. The boys are always such a great help. We did that, then rushed home to get ready for our "vacation".

I'd researched and decided that Stearns, KY looked like a good place to vacation. Stearns, KY? Where is that? You might be asking yourself that question. Well, from where we're at, you turn toward Prestonsburg and drive, turn to get on Route 80 then continue to drive. All in all, you drive about 4 hours. Yes, 4 hours in a a car with hubby and 2 boys. We didn't make it the full 4 hours. By the time we got to London (KY, not England) we were ready to stop at a hotel with a pool. That was our only requirement apparently and I pulled into the first hotel that had a sign boasting a pool. We could barely keep the kiddies calmed down enough to have supper. They were all about the swimming pool. Well, the big one was all about the swimming pool. The baby was all about walking around the swimming pool while never actually getting anywhere close enough to get wet. He doesn't like swimming pools. I don't know why. He loves bath tubs and showers. He pretends he's swimming when he's in the tub. He just doesn't actually like pools so we never have to worry about packing his trunks.

Anyway, my big one stayed in the pool while his brother went back to the room and spent the rest of the evening pushing the wheeled suitcase around. He loved that part of the trip. I think I'm just going to leave the suitcase in the downstairs hallway and tell him to knock himself out. He had a blast. Big BK remained at the pool for about 20 minutes, managing to get every part of his body wet except his hair. He told me during that time that I was a good person. He's not a good person though because he's a little mean-his words, not mine.

The next morning, after a bad continental breakfast and a disturbing bathroom incident in which my potty-trained son's pants became soaked with pee and sent Hubby into a rage, we were on our way. On our way to where, you're no doubt thinking. We were headed toward Stearns, KY with a little detour to Cumberland Falls, KY. The hubby had never been and I thought that since it was just about 45 minutes away from our final destination, it would be a good side trip. It was. It was beautiful. Cumberland Falls in one of only 2 water falls in the world that boasts a moon bow. We were there at 9 am so we didn't actually see the moon bow although it was so cold I could see my breath. The other water fall is Victoria Falls in Africa but, if I'm not mistaken (and I'm not googling this to verify my info so you may feel free to), Victoria Falls collapsed some time during the 1990s and no longer holds that distinction.

We tromped around the falls for an hour or better. It was chilly and it was lovely. The boys had a ball. They went in caves and walked through a very sandy beach. I tried to come up with a way that I could smuggle some silver drift wood off of the beach, to my car and then to my house. I was unable to formulate a plan but I'm certain that, had I put the task to my Big BK, I'd have a giant silver tree branch in my yard right now. We stopped in the gift shop to pick up a souvenir, which we didn't get. We did walk out with a box of chocolate covered pretzels, a bottle of super sour apple tongue spray which my son had to have then refused to actually allow me to spray on his tongue because it might be sour, and a piece of grape super bubble gum that my clepto of a baby tried to sneak out of the store in his mouth but was foiled by a wrapper he couldn't chew through. We paid the 1 penny for the gum. I don't think the baby learned a lesson by us bailing him out because he tried to grab a package of hubba bubba from a shelf on his way out. I worry about that one.

Finally, we got to Stearns, KY in time for lunch. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Stearns, KY, their main claim to fame is the fact that they are a refurbished coal and lumber town with their own private scenic railway. The town itself is part of Whitley City but it is super cute. All of the buildings are original to the early 20th century, refurbished and lovely. There were restaurants and an original company house full of offices and professional spaces. The train depot itself hosted a gift shop and a restaurant that called itself Suzanne's Fine Dining. Apparently in Stearns, KY fine dining means frozen catfish, frozen chicken strips, frozen fries and frozen fried pickles--all fried to order. That's all I'm going to say about that.

After lunch, we boarded the Big South Fork Scenic Railway for a 1 hour m/l trip through the wilds of southern Ky. The boys were so excited. Well, Big BK was excited. Baby BK really had no idea what was going on. We rode in an open train car because it was a beautiful afternoon. Almost before the trip had begun, Baby BK was asleep in his mommy's arms. About 1/3 of the way into the trip, Big BK was asleep in his daddy's arms. So, needless to say, the train ride was quiet. It was nice. Sigh.

The absolute cutest part of the entire trip was, when we were waiting to board the train, walking around outside, seeing the sites, Baby BK made me let go of his hand. He went over to his big brother and took his hand. He and Big BK walked along the train depot holding hands. Baby BK was so happy and proud that he was with his big brother who he alternately idolizes and tries to murder. Seriously, the cutest thing you ever in your entire life saw. I'm sure that, shortly thereafter, someone hit someone else and there was a big row but it was lovely while it lasted.

To round out the weekend, Big BK threw a hissy fit Saturday night followed by a doozie of one Sunday morning because Mommy asked that he put his socks on so we could go to Sunday School. He was grounded from swimming in the in-door pool during his cousin's birthday party that night. His response was, "If I can't swim, then I'm not going." So, he didn't go. He went to church instead. That was probably where he needed to be.

Things My Baby Did For His Birthday

This is not a comprehensive list by any means as I'm not with him 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

1. He got a carton of used eggs out of the garbage and proceeded to smash empty egg shells all over my
living room.

2. He cried like someone had stabbed him in the eye when we sang happy birthday to him.

3. He whined...oh no, wait. That wasn't in recognition of his b-day. That's an everyday thing.

4. He destroyed 1 basketball game centerpiece less than 20 minutes after Mommy put it on the table.

5. He had a little fit at some point over the weekend and tossed shoes around the garage. He was clever  
about it though. He moved very slowly when we were watching him so we wouldn't catch on. You know
how mommies and daddies are-not very bright.

6. He helped his Daddy build a wall. :)

7. He obtained a log splitter to split logs into firewood. He, his Daddy and brother planned to use it Friday evening until an irate and exhausted Mommy exploded like a volcano, pointed her finger and yelled about them having wasted the entire previous day building a wall when there were hundreds of other more pressing things to get done.

8. He attended a bonfire at the neighbors' house where he and his brother actually played together. He made new friends by breaking a whiffle ball and demanding that every guest in attendance fix it and by trying to take all of the female guests' flip flops off of their feet.

9. He ate half a can of Treat. (If you don't know what Treat is, I'm not sure you're the kind of person who should be reading my blog. No, I'm kidding, of course. Treat is akin to Spam only better. I think it might be the southern version but I have no empirical evidence to back that up.) Baby BK loves it and that was essentially his lunch Friday.

10. Rubbed his brother's uneaten slices of Treat all over my couch.

11. Climbed onto the chair in our den to pay some bills or do some homework or something, then proceeded to cry for 15 minutes when he thought he couldn't get down and mommy refused to stop reading Body Double by Tess Gerritson long enough to get him down. Daddy claimed that the den was destroyed when he finally fetched the child off the chair.

12. He emptied the contents of the vacuum cleaner, which he is convinced is his best friend, onto my living room floor. This caused mommy to go into juvenile hissy fit, growling and yelling and threatening to murder everyone. Yep, good times.

13. He demanded that mommy manually blow up balloons even though he had 30 helium filled balloons spread throughout the house. Of course, Mommy didn't do it.

14. He fell over the same log at the neighbor's house 3 separate times.

And the best of all.....

15. He disappeared empty-handed into the corner of the family room and came out with 3 pacifiers. I'm not exactly sure how this happened but I know that when I can't find a paci I'll look in that corner from now on. 

Things My Big One Did for His Brother's Birthday

This is not a comprehensive list by any means as I'm not with him 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

1. He had a fit and refused to come out of the house as long as his uncle was there for about an hour.

2. He cried and had a fit during the party for some unbeknownst reason, and clung to his Mommy's leg as she drug him through the garage.

3. He went to a bonfire at the neighbors' house and educated all and sundry about the equipment used on strip jobs, what kind of employment he was seeking (a job at a coal mine that has coal), and the uses of a tube of caulk.

4. He hit his brother.

5. He kicked his brother.

6. He yelled at his brother.

7. He demanded the opportunity to play with his brother's new toys before his brother could then took them to his room. They haven't been seen since.

8. He helped his daddy and brother build a wall. :)

9. He rearranged the gravel in the driveway.

10. He demanded that mommy drop whatever she was doing and get him juice, milk, some supper, some bacon, something to eat, a jelly sandwich, some supper.

11. He made his own supper by mixing a snack pack of vanilla pudding with some mini chocolate chips and some crumbled Oreos.

12. He obtained a log splitter to split logs into firewood. He, his Daddy and brother planned to use it Friday evening until an irate and exhausted Mommy exploded like a volcano, pointed her finger and yelled about them having wasted the entire previous day building a wall when there were hundreds of other more pressing things to get done.


13. He got grounded from cartoons for several of the above stated actions.
 
14. He made a marshmallow sandwich at the neighbors' bonfire.
 
And the best of all.....
 
15. He ate nearly an entire package of snack sized Hershey bars that were intended for s'mores at the baby's party.

My Naked Baby

I spent all day Saturday cleaning house, with the exception of the time it took me cook dinner-the most delicious barbecued ribs, Soho potatoes, and some spicy baked beans-in an effort to prepare the house for Big BK's birthday party, which will be this coming Saturday. I did this with both boys "helping". Cleaning toy-strewn bedrooms with 2 punks who think that every single toy that is put away must be played with less it feel useless does not make for an easy afternoon.

At some point during the afternoon it became time to change Baby BK's diaper. I kind of got that message when it was so heavy that he was having difficulty keeping it on his flat little tail. Baby BK did not inherit his backside from his mommy unless the gene works in reverse for him. His little dimpled behind is so flat it's almost concave. Trust me, that is not my issue.

Anyway, his diaper was practically falling off of him so I thought I'd beat gravity to the punch and change it for him. While Big BK ran downstairs to fetch a diaper (That is the true benefit of having children, they can fetch things for you. I mean, aside from the love of course.) Baby BK ran around naked. That is his favorite thing to do. He runs around and feels of his little bottom until it's red. He enjoys this tremendously. He seriously ran around only long enough for his brother to run downstairs, grab a diaper and run back up. Oh, and long enough for me to yell at him 2000 times to get in his room so I could put a diaper on his naked butt. That doesn't take as long as you'd think. I'm quite good at yelling at this point in my life. I've had a lot of practice. Ask hubby.

Fast forward a few minutes. Baby BK has finally come in for his diaper. He is no longer naked so now he has to work very hard at getting to his butt. He does that very often. I'm telling you, he likes to rub his butt. I think it's from when I was pregnant and I rubbed my belly all the time. Some of those hard lumps had be his caboose, he was virtually folded up in half inside of me. (For those of you unaware, I am not exactly long through the torso. I had very little room for my 20 1/2 inch babies. They were kind of cramped in there and very easy to see when they moved around.)

Big BK went into his room and yelled at me. He said something incoherent and I pretended to be paying attention like I usually do and said, "Really?" Generally this suffices as a response. In this case it didn't. He yelled again. This time I understood him very well as he started in his room and finished his exclamation across the hall in his brother's room, where I was located. "Mommy, somebody pooped in my room."

"What?" from his really quick thinking mommy.

"Somebody pooped in my room." By this time I was following him to his room, completely grossed out by what I was expecting to find. "Who did it?"

"Well, good grief, bubby, who do you think did it?" I replied, always sensitive to the emotional and intellectual growth of my children. "Show me."

He took me to his room and there in the middle of his sage green carpet was a nice little gift from his brother. Thank goodness the child gets very little fiber, is all I can say. I personally think this is a reflection of the condition of their relationship, the fact that Baby BK did it in his brother's room rather than the bathroom, his mommy's room, the hallway, or his own bedroom. Either that or my baby is no where close to being potty trained. Drat, I was hoping he'd be sharp enough to learn that on his own.

Of course we cleaned it up. Big BK promptly told Daddy even though he was encouraged not to. Mommy doesn't like getting grief from Daddy because the Baby doesn't have a diaper on. Mommy gets a lot of grief from Daddy and she tries to save herself some whenever possible. Hey, we're cutting back on everything around here.

This is Baby BK eating blueberry pancakes with whipped cream. It looks like he and Daddy are dressed for church. Makes me wonder what dummy gave the baby blueberry anything right before church. Sheesh.

Please feel free to remind my baby of this incident when he's old enough to be embarrassed by it. I plan to. I plan to alot. Another benefit of having children. :)

My Son's Early Birthday Present

The neighbors called the other day to say that they'd bought Big BK an early birthday present and they would bring it over. I ws trying to unload some blackberry cobblers so I said I'd walk the boys over and trade the cobbler for the gift. We tried to guess what it was. They'd asked Big BK previously what he would like from Harbor Freight. He'd told them that he needed a toolbox with a latch and a chain. So we hypothesized that it was one of those things.

When we got next door Big BK was thrilled to find that he was being gifted with a new toolbox with a latch. Not a toy. No, he's got two of those already. No, my boy got a new real toolbox with a latch to keep that pesky baby brother and daddy out of his tools. Not only was it a toolbox, it was filled with tools! And not toy tools. Real ones including a tape measure, a set of screw drivers, a hammer, a rope, electrical tape, nails and screws. He was thrilled. He had some real tools already but not like these. He spent the day taping and tying while I spent the day reminding him not to hammer his nails into my hardwood floor. He'd probably say it was the best early birthday present ever!

My Baby's Big Wrestling Match

Saturday was my niece's graduation party. She's graduated from fifth grade. She rocks. Seriously, she rocks the big rock. And she's cute as a button!

Anyway, at her graduation party, my baby BK got into a little bit of a wrestling match. Please view these photos to watch the progression of the fight. I'm not sure Baby BK ever had the upper hand. It was declared a draw. Mommy had to step in and help him. He's young yet, though. I believe, given time and enough practice, he could give a much better accounting of himself if in the same circumstance. Here we go.

He's quite graceful, isn't he? Just like his mom. Saturday, before the party, I was cleaning my front porch, finishing with my chairs, washing down my walls, rocking chairs, and doors. I first washed down the walls. To get to the top, of course, this required that I use a step ladder. Big BK was using the step ladder at some point so I used my plastic step stool. I was wearing flip flops. There was water every where. Do I need to go on?..... Clearly I do. I went to step off of the stool and my foot slipped. My knee hit the floor, taking some flesh with it. I sat there, crying like the little baby I am. Big BK came to check on me. Hubby was in the garage doing homework. He asked what happened. After about a minute and a half, he came to check on me. That hubby of mine is nothing if not a gentleman. You all have seen me do this though. If you've lived with me, been related to me by marriage, gone to church with me, or passed me in the hallway at a hospital in Columbus or on a side walk in Paintsville, there's a good chance you've seen me fall. Just like my baby, I'm nothing if not graceful! :)

Epilogue: The porch did get cleaned. The chairs did get painted. The furniture did get arranged. Flags were placed in the flower beds in commemoration of Memorial Day and 4th of July. They are no longer there but everything else is finished. I will survive. I am still suffering from my injuries. The road to recovery has been tough but I'm certain I'll be good as new in no time.

Thanks to WSB for the pictures.

Baby 4 Sale

I'm not sure, but I might have a baby that I could possibly be looking to unload, cheap cheap. (I'm kidding about that, of course, for anyone who is reading this. I am not putting my baby up for sale. He's cute and all but anyone who's spent any reasonable amount of time with him can tell you that I could never get a good price out of him.)

Anyway, my baby is about to get on my last nerve. He's decided since he's been staying home with hubby that he no longer needs to take a nap. That might serve his purpose fine, but it does not serve my purposes. On top of all of the regular distractions he causes just by being him, when he's missed his nap, he devotes a great deal of his time and energy to whining. It's very annoying. Trust me on this.

In the past couple of days he has picked up a couple of funny habits. He now makes some super funny/cute faces. He also now sits at his little table on his little chair to eat and, when he's finished, he just sits there and cries. Apparently, he's lost the ability to climb from his chair. Now, keep in mind that this is a little boy who I actually had to pull off of my baker's rack the other day. He usually just climbs up and empties the drawers. He did that the other day but actually put his foot in the drawer as if he was going to continue climbing. He can do that but he can't climb off of his chair. He can climb his brother's bunk bed ladder as it leans against my bed but he can't put his feet on the floor and stand up from his tiny little plastic chair. Huh?

I'm not sure what any of this is about. Probably related to the fake crying he's trying to master. He's working really hard on that. He's quite good at it too. He scrunches up his face and says, "uhhhh." If a person didn't watch him to closely they might actually believe he's crying. I've yet to see him do it though and ever manage to squeeze out a tear. It's really funny.

I guess we'll keep him for now. Especially since he's about to start spending the day with Mommaw now. Good luck Mommaw. You're going to need it come Monday!

Best Friends and Compound Miter Saws

Fudge is Big BK's favorite friend. He is a small blue dog, Carter's brand, purchased by my angel BK and myself somewhere in Columbus, OH while I was pregnant with Big BK and Angel BK was doing radiation treatments. He is, quite honestly, my child's best friend in the entire world. He travels with him, sleeps with him, watches tv with him, rests in the bathroom while my son is in the shower. He's very important. His name is Fudge because Angel BK's best friend was named Sprinkles. There are two more friends, Butterscotch and Peanut. They're all named for ice cream toppings. :)

Sometime during the Christmas break, my hubby left the house to go to the store. I was sitting on the rocking chair in the family room. Big BK was playing in the basement, where his daddy had left him. It was about 2:00  in the afternoon. I heard a noise. It lasted about 3 seconds. Wrrrrrr! That was all. 3 seconds. Then I heard my child screaming like he'd been stabbed in the eye. My heart dropped completely to the bottom of my feet. I started hollering (that's  how we say yelling), "Are you okay?" as I threw open the basement door and ran down the stairs.

He was crying and was nearly incoherent. "Fudge got cutted! Fudge got cutted!" he repeated.

"Did you get cutted?" I demanded as he finally came into sight.

"No! Fudge got cutted! Fudge got cutted!" he was stumbling across the basement at this point, his arm outstretched, a nearly decapitated Fudge in his hand.

"What happened?" I demanded but I knew what had happened. Hubby's compound miter saw was sitting on the floor. (This is a compound miter saw, for those of you that don't know.) I could see little tufts of stuffing sticking out of the base of the miter saw. 

"Fudge got cutted!" was the only response I got. Tears streamed down his face. He was devastated. Fudge's little head, which is, at most, 6 inches in circumference, was gashed open from one eye, completely across his head to well past the other eye. "Fudge got cutted!"

I was breathing a little easier at this time, seeing that he was actually okay and hadn't lost any important appendage. He was starting to calm down but not much. I looked Fudge over and determined that he was not ready to be buried just yet. I thought I could fix him. I told him that.

"Fix him, Mommy. Fix him," Big BK commanded. Hey, I'm a good girl from way back, I do what I'm told.

We found some thread and a needle and sat on the rocking chair together. As I began to suture Fudge's injury I began to laugh. It wasn't funny when I heard that saw. My child was now traumatized-he'd seen his best friend nearly torn to shreds. That wasn't funny either. Well, for a better mommy it wouldn't have been. The more I thought about it the more I laughed. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes. I laughed when I repeated the story to everyone.

I admit that I don't come out looking good in the story. I was watching television while my child was operating a piece of construction equipment. In my defense, I didn't know it was accessible to him and hubby had unplugged it before he'd left.

Big BK was so traumatized that he refused to talk about it. He didn't want Poppaw to see it. He still won't talk about it. That day though, after the fright wore off, I laughed harder than I'd ever laughed in my entire life.

Epilogue

Fudge is doing fine though he did lose one eye. He was permitted to be cleaned for the first time since his accident just the other day and he survived. He is expected to fully recover. Though he has not been diagnosed, it is suspected that he suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Big BK still refuses to talk about it. We may never know what actually occurred int he basement that cold January day. I would guess that my child was acting out of some kind of self-defense. I don't believe my son would have maliciously wounded his closest friend without just cause. Neither of them is talking though and until one of them comes clean, it will remain a mystery. :)

My Big Boy

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My Big BK, or as I'm going to refer to him throughout this post, my baby, is perhaps the most brave and mature almost 4 year old on the planet. Well, that might be an exaggeration. He's definitely the most brave almost 4 year old I know. Sometimes he's mature.

Case in point, we've been getting his paperwork together in hopes of getting him enrolled into headstart this upcoming school year. He's had to go to the dentist, the eye doctor, and the family doctor for checkups. He's been to the doctor more this week than he has this entire year, I think. And keep in mind that he's never actually been to the dentist or the eye doctor before. And it's been a couple of years since he's actually been seen at the family doctor.

The post yesterday mentioned how well he'd done at the dentist. I was so proud. No crying or whining or fear from that boy.

At the eye doctor today, he sat in a chair by himself, answered the doctor's questions and allowed him to examine his eyes and put eye drops in. He allowed the nurse to use two seperate machines, one to look at his eyes and one to take a picture of his eyes. He did all of this without even holding my hand. When he initially got in the chair he said he wanted me. I said I was sitting in a chair at the side of the room and would be right there the whole time. I assured him that nothing would hurt. He didn't make another noise of complaint.

I was so proud of him. It almost made me cry. He did so good during the eye doctor's examination that when it was time to take a picture of his eye, the nurse came for us. She said that the doctor had assured her that she could do the pictures because my baby would sit still for her. And he did.

I've been telling him for a couple of days what was going to happen, what he could expect at each visit. I don't want him to not know what's coming and conjure something fearsome in his fantastic imagination. I've always been honest with the boys, telling them the truth even if something was going to hurt. I think it's just better to get it over with. I developed this philosphy when my angel was going through his chemo and radiation. I never told him well ahead of time what was going on, sometimes waiting right up until just a few minutes prior because he would have fallen to pieces. He'd gone through a lot of terrible stuff though, so it was completely understandable. I even told him what was happening to him when we knew he was near the end, not in so many words of course, but I did ask him if he wanted to go to Heaven. Everything else is easy in comparison to that discussion.

Anyway, I digress....My mature and brave baby just got his brother in a head lock in order to drag him out of the corner where all of his 4 million cars are.

Oh wait.....My baby just jumped off of the back of the couch bounced off of the cushions directly onto the coffee table. No major injuries were sustained. He got up immediately to check on his toys that were laying nearby where he'd crashed.

I'm sure my little baby will be doing the same thing some time this evening. He's also jumping off of the back of the couch. It's what they do while I'm blogging. It's become a nightly ritual. They've left the cushions on the couch this time though. He probably wouldn't have bounced if they hadn't. Oh well, hindsight is 20-20.

Dentist

I need to go to the dentist. I've needed to for years. By years, I mean a decade or longer. Probably closer to two. I am that old. I have dental insurance for the first time in my life and I need to use it. I need to go to the dentist. When I say I need to go I mean, at a minimum, I need a cleaning and probably a couple of fillings. At a maximum, a root canal or some other drastic procedure. I think I might even have some kind of gum disese. I need to go to the dentist.

Why am I not going if I have dental insurance that I'm paying my hard-earned money for, you might ask. It's because I am a first class, number one chicken. I am scared. I'm afraid it will hurt. I think this is left over from my time as an orthodontic patient. I've given birth to 3 children, not one of them the way God intended. I've had my body surgically opened and a child pulled out of it, completely against his will I believe, times 3. I was given morphine to help with the pain of this surgery for more than a week. I know how badly a person can hurt. I'm scared that if I go to the dentist, it's going to hurt. I know I'm going to have to have work done. You don't go as long as I have with no dental care and the bad eating (ie, chocolate, Reese Cups, Whatchamacallits, and Reese Cups-I said that twice because it bares repeating, trust me) and drinking habits (ie Pepsi, Pepsi, Pepsi and no milk) that I have and not need some kind of dental procedure. Seriously, fillings will be mild for me.

On the other end of the spectrum, my Big BK went to the dentist today to get a checkup for Head Start. He sat in the chair and let the hygienist clean his teeth, opening wide the entire time. The dentist came in and looked in his mouth and he opened wide with no complaint. He was awesome. I was so proud. He's not a first class number one chicken. If you all know anything at all about my boy, you know that is the truth.

A 4-Year-Old's Take on the Economy

Big BK: "I use to work at that coal dock."

Mommy: "What happened?"

Big BK: "I got laid off."

Mommy: "Why?"

Big BK: "They shut it down."

This is an actual conversation that took place between me and my oldest child on Sunday, April 24, 2010 on Mommaw's front porch. It is not a reenactment. Big BK was not coached to say these things. This is a spontaneous conversation, or it had been at one time. The incident on Mommaw's front porch was in fact a reenactment of a spontaneous conversation for the benefit of those present. Or it might have happened at the birthday party earlier in the afternoon, I forget. Anyway, this conversation did take place at the instigation of my child.

I Really Don't Like Mondays

Monday is my least favorite day. This weekend I did nothing. I was a couch potato in the first degree. I didn't do anything except go to the grocery store, cook supper, make some cookies and move some dreaded laundry from the washer to the dryer. I didn't do anything. And I loved it.

And then today I had to go back to work. I had to go to the office. Blah! I had to go to the office and I actually had to work. I had to call about 50 people and ask them what the heck they planned to do for the summer. I had to complete housing assistance forms for about 2/3 of those. I had to answer the phone and deal with people who came in. I like my job. I don't like it so much on Mondays.

My babies didn't spend the night at home last night though. Mommaw and Poppaw kept them at their house. I can't say that upset me too much. I love my boys. I truly do. I wouldn't take a million dollars for them. I don't mind having a break from them every once in a while though. Mommaw asked them to stay so that I wouldn't have to drive all the way to her house this morning. That meant that I didn't have to get up until 6 am this morning. Oh that felt good.

Mommaw woke up this morning, about  3 am, with my child standing beside her bed like something out of a creepy Steven King movie. He needed his pants buttoned. At 3 am. He needed his pants buttoned at 3 am. Apparently, last night he insisted on sleeping in his jeans. When he got up to pee at 3 am, he couldn't go back to sleep with unbottoned pants. That would have been ridiculous. He's not four years old yet so he can't button his pants on his own. So, he needed Mommaw to help him. Nothing strange at all about that.

Saturday night, hubby went to a gospel concert and got home at about 11:30 pm. He was coming upstairs when Big BK got out of his bed and went to the bathroom. I was in bed but awake. Big BK came through my bedroom, to my bathroom. He stopped in front of my toilet and growled, whined a little then went to his bathroom. In his bathroom he did something similar. I got up to find out what was wrong. He growled and growled and came back out of his bathroom. He stood in the hallway and whined. I asked him if he needed to use the bathroom. He just whined. I led him to my bathroom, stood behind him while he peed and then led him back to his room. He laid down in his bed and went directly to sleep. I'm not sure he was ever actually awake.

He just asked the hubby where his nail gun is. Nothing wrong with that. Doesn't every 4 year old need a nail gun?

Time Out Again

My baby is in time out again. This time it's because he pulled a lamp off the table. Twice. He ran away giggling the first time. I gave him the opportunity to prove himself and he did it again. I think he was proving what a twerp he is. He'd just gottten out of time out for throwing a sippy cup full of milk at my laptop. A sippy cup he'd stolen from his brother. I don't think he's learned his lesson.

Now he's sitting on his Sesame Street couch winking at me. It's almost working. I'm almost smiling at him. It's hard not to. You have no idea how cute he is. It's like swimming against the tide. (I don't actually swim especially anywhere there might be reptiles of any kind in attendance, but I'm assuming this is what it would be like.) You just can't resist him. He gazes at you with those chocolate brown eyes. I've always been a sucker for chocolate. Then he lowers his head and looks up at you, then he blinks both eyes. Then he smiles. Those two little dimples come out and....

He's changing tactics. Just in time too. I was just about to smile at him. Now he's standing up, looking at me to see what my reaction is. I say in my best mommy voice, "Sit down!" and he pops back down. A few seconds later, the action repeats. This tactic isn't working for him.

Uh-oh, he's sitting with his hands crossed on his lap. He's back to being irrestistable.

I really need to go bake some cookies. Uhhhh.......

Halloween

I was looking through my pictures and found these. They're too cute not to share. These were from Halloween 2009. We dressed the punks up just to take them next door for the neighbors to see. Both of the costumes had previously been my angel's.

Meet Captain Swordman

(dubbed himself that)

And his Dalmation friend Blue

(the doggy ears are beside of him-he wore them for about 15 seconds)

And this one was just because he found the costume.

These boys rock the big rock!

Bedtime Prayers

My big one says his prayers every night when he goes to bed. He prays at church too. He "talks to Jesus" as he calls it and to do so he has to lay prostrate on the floor, no kneeling for him. Here's a sample of what he says at bedtime.

"Jesus, I love you. You're my friend. Take care of me Jesus. I'm sick," I have pointed out at this point that he's not sick. He coughs for effect. "Take care of Mommy and Daddy and Kam and Mommy. (Apparently Mommy's condition is so bad that she requires extra care.) Take care of Roger. (Roger is the husband of a cousin who actually died a few months ago. That was one of the funerals the baby had to be removed from.) Take care of Baily (our dog). Take care of Mommaw and Poppaw. I love you Jesus. Amen."

This is not verbatim as he switches it up every night. He only recently added Mommaw and Poppaw to his request.

Cute though, ain't it?

Brothers

My boys. They're rough and tough. They push and shove. They don't like to share and they make each other cry. Deep down though, I'm pretty sure they like each other.



My Big BKC (Before he was big) and My Angel BKC

My Big One and My Baby

My Hungry Baby

My big punk told his aunt "boss" last week that Mommy never cooks supper for him, that she stops at Wendy's everyday and gets him some nuggets and fries and cheeseburgers. I disputed that immediately and even called him on the phone and demanded that he come clean. He started talking about digging or shoveling or something like that and my complaints never actually got addressed. I'm not sure I convinced anyone that he was not being honest.

I stop at Wendy's and get him something to eat once per week, usually the night that hubby goes to bible study because he's generally leaving very soon after I get home with the boys and I don't really have time to throw him a meal together. I do not, when I stop, buy everything on the menu for my punk. (I'm too cheap for that even if I wanted to. I don't even by him his own meal. He has to share with his brother!)

Keep that in mind when you look at these pictures of my baby. He is not starving to the point that he's begging for some cereal. He is squalling and demanding that someone get him some Fruity Pebbles because he can't seem to work the already open bag even though he can open my make-up, my deodorant, and a can of spackle he found in the garage today. He has at that very moment waiting on his table a plate of pork, mac and cheese, and carrots. He does talk hubby into giving him the cereal.

Okay, maybe the plate wasn't on his table but it definitely was waiting on the counter for him, cooling. Ten minutes later he was standing on his chair eating a lollipop the size of his head. If you know anything about my children, you know that is one big lollipop.

Baby Boys

A baby who will eat a dishwasher detergent packet, empty an entire box of disinfectant wipes, and play with a toilet brush just for kicks, will spray 409 in his face. He probably won't like it though. Just so you know. (Sometimes he'lll do all these things with his mommy standing 2 feet away.)

We allow stupid things to happen at our house so that y'all feel better about your own parenting! No thank you's necessary. We're doing it for the good of all mankind.