Hey crafty Moms!

If any of you are thinking of making play-doh with your kiddo, I can't recommend it highly enough. The pouring! The stirring! The squishing! The end result - play-doh that is totally soft enough for them to roll flat all on their own (I don't know about your kid, but all mine wants to do is roll it and use cookie-cutters. We haven't really moved on to 3-D design, yet.) It's wonderful. It's magic. It's an entire day's worth of fun.

Here is the recipe we used...

3 cups flour
1 1/2 cups salt
1/4 cup oil
1 cup water (mix food coloring w/ water before adding it to flour mixture)

Mix all ingredients in a bowl. Get kid to knead with hands until smooth. Create. Play. Enjoy.




Quick note (and probably unnecessary - most of you will no doubt go "no DUH" to this, but if it spares just one toddler the disappointment mine felt this morning, then this admission is worth it...) Whole wheat flour? Not a good idea. Purple? Not so much. More like the color of dirty grout, with lots of big brown flecks. Jaynie was unimpressed. Jonas thought it was delish, if a little salty.

Dear Joe,

Your son, in addition to being a nose-picking mess-making poop terrorist, is also a play-doh eater. Come home soon. Please.

Love,
Your incredibly tired wife.

Genius Alert!

Jonas has started sticking his little pointer finger way, way, waaaay up his nose. I'm talking to the second knuckle, here. It hurts, he cries, I take the finger out of his nose, he cries harder and puts it back. It's a vicious cycle.

We usually play this little game while I'm changing his diaper. It's like,"Hey -I've got no toys or anything to play with up here... what can I do... Oh! Hey! Look where I can fit this!" I think he likes the way it feels to his finger, and hasn't figured out yet that it's what's causing the pain in the nose. Genius, I tell you. Nothing like trying to wipe a poopy butt, while simultaneously trying to keep a pointy little finger out of the nose. My life - it's is soooooo glamorous.

Shhhh - she's listening!

We have to be veeery careful what we say around the Twink. She is always listening. Even if it looks like she's totally engrossed in a book? Listening. (Strangely enough, she doesn't seem to hear me when I tell her to eat her dinner/clean her room/give that toy back to her brother. Huh.)

I cut out all bad words when she was a baby, before she had the chance to repeat them. So imagine my chagrin when she yelled out, in the middle of the Children's Museum, "You FREAKING KIDS!" Whoops.

Or the time she couldn't get a puzzle to go together correctly so exclaimed "Muvver of GOD!" Nice.


But it's not just questionable language she repeats. Example: Jaynie has an unholy fear of the book Hop on Pop! by Dr. Seuss. There's a few pages about Pat, and how Pat should NOT sit on THAT! (It's a cactus.) First we could read the whole book. Then we could read most of the book, but not the "Pat pages". Then we had to make sure she couldn't even see the Pat pages while we skipped them, then, one day, the book was stuffed under the couch and I was told to take it back to the library - WITHOUT SHOWING IT TO HER. Ok.

Anyway - I was telling a friend about this, while Jaynie was across the room playing with other kids. Later that night, she tells her Dad that Hop on Pop is the book that "I literally back away from!" Listening, I tell you. Watch yourselves.

Um... ew. Just ewww.

Jonas has pooped in the bathtub several times recently. Like four times in one week (twice in one evening - right after Joe scrubbed and refilled the bathtub, he did it again.) As those of you with small children know, this is the grossest thing ever. As those of you with no children can imagine, this is the GROSSEST THING EVER.

So, no more letting them play in the tub while you read a magazine. No more having a conversation with your spouse and not paying explicit attention to the water. No more plucking your eyebrows while the two-year-old washes the baby (not that I would do any of those things.) From now on, we watch that butt. We keep our eye on the butt. Washing Jaynie's hair? Doesn't matter - eye on the butt.



All this is to set you up for this little exchange I just overheard...

Joe: Jaynie! Are you ready!

Jayne: YEAH!

Joe: What are we?

Jaynie: The Poop Patrol!

98.6 degrees, baby!

The other night Madam tells Joe that she doesn't like to hug me because I'm "hot" and it "burns her". I'm just that hot.

So he explains to her that sometimes hot means hot, but sometimes hot means very very pretty. Again, it's hysterical sometimes what kids are actually thinking (anyone remember Jaynie's "sparkling rainbow ball"?)



So two nights ago we're having dinner and she's screwing around and basically doing anything other than eating and she keeps interrupting us and Joe finally says "Jaynie! Less playing, more eating!" and Jaynie says "I'm not playing! I'm trying to have a little conversation with you!" and then follows that with "Ok, first? Mommy? Is HOT!" Now THAT, my friends, is a dinner-time conversation! Any disappointment I may have felt to learn that she thought she was calling me very very warm is gone. Now she understands it means I'm pretty, and she's down with that.

(The "Mommy is hot" was just the beginning. While we were still laughing in our soup she says "So, Daddy - how was your day?" Holy cow - dinner conversation will never be the same, now that the Twink is a participant.)

The Tap.

Thanks to my iron-clad excuse (still nursing), I get to put Jonas down at night, and Joe gets the joy? privilege? honor? of tucking Jaynie in (Oooh - sorry hon! I would totally trade you if I could! No, really! What? He's one and I can wean now? Huh? You're breaking up, Joe - I can't hear you...)

Sometimes Jaynie asks for extra stories. Sometimes she tries to turn on the charm. Sometimes she asks him to climb into her (tiny twin-sized) bed and snuggle her.

Sometimes, she asks him to leave.

"Daddy, you have to go now. You have to go away, Daddy. Mommy's calling you." (Extra funny, considering I was happily watching TV with nobody there to argue about what show was on.)

This has happened to him a couple of times. He'll come out looking all defeated, and when questioned admit that Madam has given him "the tap". She's asked him to leave. She's "all done snuggling" him. Ciao, Daddy. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

This has, obviously, never happened to me. (For one thing, I'm a lot softer and more comfy to snuggle than Joe. We call that a silver lining, people.)

10 minutes ago I was trying to get the Twink to go to sleep. Usually this is a breeze. I "hypnotize" her. I talk about her body falling to sleep part by part, starting with the toes (You're toes are so warm and comfy. They are holding very still. They are not wiggling, they are not moving, they are just relaxed and ready for the nap....) Generally she's asleep before I get to the belly-button.

Not today. I walk in and say "I'm going to talk about your parts now." and she says "NO! Daddy ALREADY did that!" (Damn it, Joe! You obviously didn't do a real bang-up job! How about leaving these things to the professionals from now on?) So I ask her if instead I can just snuggle her. She's all for that - scoots over, holds back the blanket - heck yeah I can snuggle her! So I'm telling her to stop moving and I'm telling her to keep her eyes closed and I'm telling her to take deep breaths and then it happens. The tap.

"Mommy? I want you to go away."

What? Huh?

"Daddy is all by himself out there. I want you to go away so Daddy isn't by himself."

Me: Jaynie - Daddy's fine. He's on the computer. He doesn't need me.

Jaynie: Well, then you should be cleaning. (I swear, I am not making this up.)

M: Whaaaaaaaaat?

J: If Daddy is on the computer then you should do some cleaning because Daddy likes a clean house and this house is not clean. This house? Is dirty. You should go away and clean something, Mommy.





I guess I'm off to do the dishes.

Awwwwwwwww....

Today while I'm getting the kiddos ready to nap, Jaynie announces "There are lots of cute babies out there, but Jonas is the cutest one of all!" (Yes - due to the fact that he is still not walking, he TOTALLY counts as a baby. You can't be a toddler while you're crawling. It's the law or something.)

Anyway - back to the lovefest. She says he's so cute, then she gets down on the floor to hug him and kind of ends up on her back while he lays his head on her. So sweet. I say "You love your brother, huh?" and she's like "Yes, I love him sooo much. Also, I love you, and also I love Daddy. I care about all of you."

"I care about all of you"??? Has she been watching Hallmark movies without me or something?

Hot monkey, anyone?

Yesterday, as I'm strapping Madam into her carseat, she looks up and asks me "Mommy? Do you renember last morning when I was in my Princess Jewelianana costume and I made everybody into things with magic like debils and butterflies and stuff, and then when I was done I made you all back into your normal selves?"

She's talking about Halloween. Jaynie has a very fluid definition of "last morning", it basically means "anytime before right now."

So I told her yes, of course I remember that. She says "Maybe when we get home, I can put my costume on and get my wand and turn you into something with my magic! Maybe a monkey!" Then she leans in reeeaaal close - nose to nose - and says "A Hhhhot monkey!"

That's me, folks. Hot monkey. Not average-looking monkey. Not kinda-pretty monkey. Not even beautiful monkey. HOT monkey. Beat that.

You stole my cashews!

Today Madam didn't take a nap. She slipped in under the radar somehow. Generally speaking, if she's not sleeping she's making a ton of noise. Makes it easy to tell she's still awake, so I can go in and deal with it. Not today. Today she was silent, but awake (this alone deserves a blog entry - who knew she was capable of being both silent and awake at the same time? Mark January 20 on your calendars, people!)

The result of no nap is, of course, a cranky kid. Rather than having a short fuse, she has no fuse. (She also has no volume control. I can only say "library voice!" so many times before we just have to leave.)

So we're in the car, and she's having a snack of mixed nuts. Cashews, almonds, pecans. She eats all the cashews out and then gets pissed that there are no more, she says she doesn't want the rest blahblahblah I take the cup from her... five minutes later she starts bawling unexpectedly. What? What on earth is wrong? "I want my almonds!" Well ok! For the love of Pete - just ask for them! Joe is trying to explain the difference between a real reason to cry and crying over something stupid (good luck there, hon), when she yells "I'm CRYING because Mommy TOOK MY CASHEWS!"

Me: I did not!

Joe: turns head to laugh - almost drives off the road

Jaynie: You DID TOO! YOU STOLE THEM!


How do you argue here? When you're being screeched at from the backseat? Unfairly accused of being a cashew thief?


Just when Joe and I start to get it together she announces, in the saddest voice on the planet, that she's "not crying anymore, but I still just have a little tear on my cheek. And I'm still using my crying voice."


Sometimes I'm tempted to let her skip her nap on purpose - just so I have all this good blog fodder.

Mooooo

In our fridge, there are four gallons of skim milk, one gallon of whole, and one gallon of soy. The fact that they're in half-gallon cartons makes it look even more impressive - 12 containers of milk! In one fridge!

Best part? Joe checks the expiration date, looks at the calendar, and says "You should have bought more milk..."

Where does she get this stuff?

I've introduced Madam to the art of graffiti (our landlord would be so pleased.) The rules are simple - ONLY outside, and ONLY with chalk. Do we draw with chalk on the walls inside? No! Do we draw with crayon on the walls outside? No! When is it ok to draw on the walls? "Outside, with chalk, Mommy!" Good girl.

So the other day she was drawing a picture "For Daddy! To surprise him when he gets home!" It was hot pink and lots of big swirls and swoops. He gets home and she proudly shows it to him - "I drew you a picture, Daddy! It's a picture of me dying my hair!"

What?



So today we're looking at this picture again, and again I ask her what it's a picture of. "It's of me, dying my hair." Ok... what exactly *is* "dying your hair", Twink? Hmmmm? "Dying your hair is when you put paint in your hair, and rub it in, then wash it all out. That's dying your hair."

Not a bad description.

Here's the thing - I haven't dyed my hair since before getting pregnant with Jonas (I know, I've totally let myself go.) So where is she getting this knowledge? I tried to get it out of her - "Where did you hear that? Who told you that?" and she just says "Nobody told me, I just know that. All by myself I just know."

Is she some kind of hair prodigy? Is she destined to own her own chain of salons? (I kind of think she's destined to be a politician. She never shuts up or concedes a point - sounds like a winning combo for D.C.) The best part of this is that she has no actual idea what "dying your hair" does to it. I tried and tried to lead her to the answer - "So, if your hair is brown and you dye it, what will be different about it?" but she has no clue. "It won't be different, it will just be DYED!"

I'm off to find out what else she knows all about, "all by herself".

How very silly of me.

Recently I was trying to get Madam to eat her veggies, in the time-honored tradition of claiming they would make her "big and strong". She looked completely unimpressed. Who wants to be big and strong anyway? I had an idea -

Eat up! They'll make you smart and beautiful!

Mom! I'm already smart and beautiful, hello! (Yeeeah - she's adopted my use of the word "hello!" at the end of a sentence. Smart ass.)

(I'm trying to keep a straight face. A "Eat your veggies right this minute" face. It's a losing battle.)

Look at me! (Frantically gestures to herself. Kind of Vanna White - big sweeping arm movements.) Look at how beautiful I am! And I'm the smartest kiddo ever! I don't need to be MORE smart and beautiful!



Maybe I should've told her they'd make her humble and modest.

Jonas

Is easily the yummiest boy on the planet. He's such a little copy-cat. If he gets his hands on a crayon, he immediately puts it to paper and scribbles. Hand him a spoon and he'll put it right in his mouth. He's mastered crawling into the firetruck and "driving" it - he loves honking the horns and running the siren. He's moving slower than the Twink did when it comes to crawling/standing/walking, but all these little things that took her so much longer he has a serious head start on. Because he watches her. Every second of every day. Yesterday he casually crawled by wearing one of her tiaras. When I asked had she put it on him the answer was "WHAT? WHYYYYYYYYY IS JONAS WEARING MY TIARA!", so I have to assume he found it and put it on himself. (He's very comfortable with his masculinity - if any boy could pull off a sparkly tiara with a picture of Ariel on it, it's him.)

His first word was "AY-NEE!", bellowed out when she dared to walk away from him. He now also says Dada and Mama, but most of the time still calls me "Bob" (???????) His favorite thing in the world (after his sister) is his stuffed tiger - he must have it to sleep. His favorite toys to play with are these cars that Aunty Suz sent (from the movie "Cars") that say stuff like "HEY! Watch the fenders! Ow!" etc etc. when you bang them around. He'll *pick it up, toss it to the floor to hear it yell, crawl over to it* repeat from * all over the house. (Julie and Tracey - you like that description? Hee.)

Last night he stood for the first time with absolutely no assistance. He got up on his knees and looked like he wanted to stand, so I put out my hands and he reached for them... then stood on his own without taking them. He looked as surprised as me. Then he took my hands and walked across the room to Joe, laughing all the way. Won't be long now. Sigh.

Show a little respect, Mom!

Yesterday, the kids and I were in the car when we were suddenly overcome by a "yucky poopy smell". The following is an actual conversation between the Twink and I....

Me: Holy cow! What is that smell? Jaynie - did you fart?

Jaynie: Noooo... but I do smell a yucky poopy smell, Mommy. I think maybe Jonas went poopy in his diaper!

Jonas: [says nothing because he's sleeping the sleep of the innocent]

Me: So, it was Jonas?

Jaynie: Yes, yes I think it must have been Jonas. He's a stinky boy!

[Loud fart sound comes directly from Madam's side of the back seat]

Me: Jaynie! You did it again!

Jaynie: [giggling] Whoops! Mi scusi!

Me: Man, Jaynie - you are a fart monster!

Jaynie: [extremely indignant] I am NOT a fart monster..... I am a fart PRINCESS!



Well, there you go.

So much cuteness, so few posts...

I am not even going to attempt to play catch up on this blog. I'm moving forward. Yes - the kids have done many, many cute things since June. Yes, Jaynie has said many funny things. Do I remember all of them? No. Do I feel guilty about this? Of course. I'm a Mom, hello. Guilt is my middle name. Am I going to apologize for it? Nope. International move, people! The blog suffered, yes, but I'm here now to make up for lost time. Cuteness abounds here at Chez Moore, and it's time to get blogging again...