Celebratory Dance

Yeah, I know, I know -  I haven't posted anything in a couple of weeks.  The good news is I completed a major project at work which dealt with iPads :)

Now that the project is done-zo, I will once again have pockets of time to "goof off" at work and work on blogging and editing videos instead of actually working!  Ha!

Speaking of editing videos, below is Tater doing his celebratory dance now that my iPad project is done!  I'm dancing inside too.  But Tater is much more graceful.... and sober - although the song lyrics suggest otherwise ;)

-Shirley

The Second One

We don't really get to hang out just you and me.

As the second one, your time is always shared with your older brother.  It's awesome to see you two bond (but not so awesome when you guys fight).  And you always try to stake your claim to me.  When you've had enough of your brother, you come seeking my hand and usually guide me towards the refrigerator (Of course you do, Tater).  And when your older brother asks me for a "hug"; well -man - that pisses you off and you let everybody know it! 

You hate snuggling with me, but you always need to make sure I'm within arm's distance (it amazes me how similar you are to the dog - I gets NO snuggle time from anyone!).  You get your diapers in a bunch when it's your brother's turn to play human airplane as I launch him in the air with my feet.  If you could speak I'm sure you'd say, "Get the F off! This is my ride!"

But yesterday you got some unprecedented and precious alone time with Mama.  Your dad and brother went to a far off land for a few hours that required a bridge to be crossed.  That left just the two of us home alone (well, maybe the dog was there too, shredding brown paper).

What to do with this special 1:1 Tater-time?  I decided to keep the TV off and we took a bath (I was fully immersed in my swimsuit since you've suddenly joined your brother in his hatred of baths).  We played, you continuously threw water on me with a cup.  When bath time was over, we watched a couple of Youtube videos of babies doing their thing on my Iphone, and you were enthralled.  We read books, your favorite ones have fish in them.

And we played human helicopter

with no waiting in line!

It was a pretty fun pre-bedtime experience!

We should do it again sometime.

Have your people, call my people ;)  - Shirley 

Chatty Little Old Men (Video Edition)

It's just so fun to see my ruffians growing into actual people with personalities.  They're like tiny little old men.  And lately they've both been chatty little old men. 

Check it.




-Shirley

Word of the Day

Hello Boys and Girls,

Today's word of the day is

"Tare":  noun

Definition: An allowance made for the weight of the packaging in order to determine the net weight of goods.

Often used by a pediatric nurse trying to get my 3 yr old ruffian to stand on the evil! scale during his checkup, while he is adamantly defiant and hanging and clinging for dear life onto my legs like a baby monkey about to fall into a pit of fire! 

Used in a sentence (by the nurse): "How about we allow for the tare, and we weigh you on the scale with him and then you alone, and then get the difference?"

So I maneuver onto the scale in my wedged boots with the screaming monkey still permanently attached to my legs, and judging by the cacophony of sounds that just erupted, an ember from the pit of fire must have singed the baby monkey's butt.

The nurse eventually says, "40lbs." 

40 fucking pounds....
I wish I could've just told her that instead of going through this entire song and dance!

What's that you say?  Your pediatric nurse doesn't  use the word "tare"? It's only reserved for my ruffians?

Of course it fuckin would be!

I'm grateful that the rest of the checkup went smoothly. My ruffian sat quietly with a face full of distrust and suspicion aimed at the doctor, but still he actually did everything she asked and that's what mattered most.

Look at the light
Say "ahhhh"
Breathe deep breaths. <---- his cooperation on this one stunned me the most.

And then the doc said he wouldn't need shots.

Thank God!

That meant I wouldn't need a shot of my own when I got home! :)

-Shirley

Video Edition: Easter Rocked!

Life Lesson: Don't put your eggs rocks in one basket!

How the Ruffians did Easter

Easter puked all over back of my car and in between my couch cushions.

If I never see an open baby blue, plastic Easter egg or aluminum, pastel-colored candy wrappers  again I'd do the Happy Dance!  And if the boys never saw a patterned clip-on tie again,  they'd do the Lambada!  

The only reason I even got one picture of Diego in a tie is because I told him that you must wear ties when you hunt eggs (And he BELIEVED me, muahahahaha!).  He's gonna hate me when he figures it out.  And Mateo is going to hate me when I show his future girlfriend this plumber-butt picture.  Hahaha!  But Mateo got me back as I peered from the living room window to find him getting down and dirty in a rain puddle.  I wasn't home and had no backup outfit.  

And knowing there was rain in the forecast, I still didn't even think to bring rain boots.  I chose to put them in.......... -canvas shoes......... Mommy fail.

As for the hunt itself, the boys got a really great haul.  Diego examined each egg before he put it into his basket.  If it was a real egg, he put it back.  He only liked the fake, plastic ones (I hope this isn't a general statement about his future girlfriends).    His little brother was hot on his heels picking up the scraps (I hope this isn't a general statement about his future girlfriends.)  At one point, Tater got confused and picked up a landscaping rock and placed it into his basket.  It was far from egg-shaped. If he wasn't ONLY ONE, I'd probably get his eyes checked.  

I should probably get his stomach checked too.  I tried to dye eggs with them the day prior (there wasn't enough paper towels in the state of California to clean up THAT mess!).  Mateo figured out there was food inside the shell, and started cracking the eggs open and eating them.  Meanwhile Diego has the patience of a 3-yr old, and would say "OK, ready!" And take the eggs out of the dye as soon as he put them in.  Lesson learned.  Next year I'm dying them myself so that they stain better, and the Ruffians can put the stickers on afterwards..... and I'll probably have some pre-peeled eggs waiting for Tater's stomach.

How was your Easter? -Shirley