Poison Control 101

It was bound to happen eventually. We made it almost four years into the journey of parenthood, but clearly our time had come. The morning was going way to well and it simply couldn't last. Both kids had eaten, were dressed with hair fixed ... and I had a good 20 minutes to spare before we had to leave. I might actually get to wear make-up today!?!?

And then it happened ...
D walks up to me holding Baby Q and quite calmly says "I think he might need his mouth washed out?" He then holds up a bottle of nail polish thinner, circa 1999. I have no idea where it had been hiding - it clearly predates my married with kids life (I don't currently own any nail polish, unless you count the sliver of pink on my big toes from who knows when). Wherever Q found it, he had managed to chug about 1/2 an ounce of the stuff. Pretty amazing considering it smells like acetone. So yeah, there would be no make-up for Mommy this morning. It was replaced with a call to our local Poison Control Hotline.

The lady was quite nice - "it's nothing to be concerned about, just give him lots of milk or water to dilute it and keep him upright for the next hour or so."

And then she took my name and number ... do they put you on some sort of Bad Parents List on your first call or is it a freebie???

OCD - The Toddler Version

Miss E was asked to be a flower girl in a family wedding last Valentine's Day. This was not something we had tried before, but it was to be a small informal ceremony so we agreed. With much excitement and anticipation, she put on her "pretty dress" and posed for pictures. She did so relatively easily, so we assumed the rest of the ceremony would go just as smoothly. As the music began she walked down the aisle, tossing red rose petals along the way. The bride followed and Miss E quietly stood there, watching in awe. As the music stopped and the officiant began talking, she seemed to lose interest. She began picking up the rose petal and putting them back in her basket. No big deal - at least she was being quiet. Then ... well, poor Miss E has just a touch of OCD (all things have a place and everything must be neatly in its place) and it got the better of her. She tried her best to pick all of the petals up, but she could not reach the ones the bride was standing on.

In the middle of the prayer my sweet baby girl shoved the bride, said "move ___," and picked up the last few petals.

I didn't know whether to laugh or crawl under my chair!!!

Conversations With a Three-Year-Old

After picking the diva up from school, we set out on our typical bimonthly adventure ... lunch and a fun activity to pass the afternoon. Being at the house is not an option, as diva is terrified of the housekeeper. Mind you, she is quite intimidating - 5'2", maybe 110lbs, always smiling and talking to diva, and she has been a regular around here since diva was 6 months old. None the less, we must run screaming from her every 2 weeks ... and the adventure begins.
Diva was quite talkative today - no big surprise to those who know her father!!!

Our conversation went something like this:

• Diva: Mommy why are we taking this path
• Me: This is the path we have to take.
• Diva: Why
• Me: Because it is. *this went on for several minutes*
• Daddy: "Diva," why don't you want to go this way?
• Diva: Daddy, I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Mommy
• Daddy: Why?
• Diva: Because I am.
• Daddy: But why? *you get the idea, but Diva finally had enough*
• Diva: Daddy I done talking

Silence ... oh the beautiful silence. Until it started all over again!!!

Around the Dinner Table

I remember, once upon a time, quiet romantic dinners. These are now just a distant memory. Dinner is somehow never the same after the kids arrive. The nice dishes are replaced by plastic 4/$1.00 Wal-mart plates. Dinner is served much earlier. Mac and cheese is considered an entree, not a side dish. But all of this pales in comparison to the drastic change in dinner conversation.

This is a list of things said at our dinner table (many of them more than once):

• Don't growl at your brother!
• Stop digging in your stuff! followed by...
• Go wash your hands, again!
• Stop peeing on the floor!
• Don't feed your (fill in the blank) to the puppy!
• We don't put our feet on the table!
• Don't stand on the table!
• Did you pops? (our word for passing gas)
• We don't wipe boogers on the table!
• You have to wear panties at the table!

And, that was just this week!!!

Floppy Buns

For reasons that remain a mystery, Miss E refers to Chick-fil-a as "Floppy Buns." Yeah, took us forever to figure that one out. So, Miss E and I took an adventure to our local mall. It just so happens to contain a Floppy Buns. We were waiting for the elevator - innocent enough, right? So, the door opens ... and there stands a um, sizeable woman holding a Chick-fil-a cup. In her best three-year-old voice (read "nearly a shout"), Miss E says "Momma she has floppy buns." Just kill me now. Really, can I just melt into the floor right here? I am certain this poor woman understood what was said, but is she really going to believe the comment pertained to her coke? So I did what I do alot these days ... grabbed my kid and headed in the other direction, my face several shades redder than when we started the day.

Potty Training ... Rewind

This is taken from an email sent around Thanksgiving. Forgive the rewind, but it's definately worth repeating:

I worked wednesday night and Aunt K kept the kids. At work I found out at 0630 Thursday morning that there was to be a potluck that night (and D. would be working, so something would have to be sent). When I got home, I quickly mixed up a cake and put it in to bake. I laid down for a nap and K. pulled the cake out to cool on top of the stove. She woke me up around 1130 and said she was leaving. Miss G was watching tv and Baby Q was taking a nap. I was still tired and snoozed on the couch for a little longer. Miss G woke me up at 1200 with "mommy I need wipes." This is never a good statement in our house!!!. So as I sleepily headed for the wipes, I noticed something all over her face (don't get ahead of me here). When asked what it was, she replied "mommy I eat cake." After taking care of the wipes, I set out on a mission to find the missing cake (I had noticed on the way to the wipes that I had only one 9" cake, where there should have been two).
She ran off to the playroom - let me paint a picture for you ... cake smeared all over the face, nothing on below the waist as she had pooped her pants somewhere along the way, yet to be determined. Quite a picture - would have been funny if I hadn't been so mad. So she comes back to me with a cake pan, minus half the cake. The playroom has an area where clearly she has been eating the cake. It is in several of her dishes, divided up for her babies and animals (and of course herself). Beside the cake ... the missing pants and a poop patty smeared into the ottoman and rug. keep in mind it was a chocolate cake, so it was quite difficult to distinguish where cake ended and the other began.

Yep ... a poop cake.

Welcome To Our Blog

I have never been on the cutting edge of technology. Now that it seems everyone else is well established in the blogging world, I guess it is time for me to jump in and get my feet wet. As the description suggests, the blog will be comprised of the funny happenings of Miss E and Baby Q. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Here we go .... !!!