Friday, January 27, 2012


One rainy and dreary afternoon, Son #1 pulled out his tool kit and marched decisively into the office.

He announced.  "Mama, I'm going to fix you."

"Oh really."  I replied.

Son #1 produced his screwdriver and ordered me to hold out my hand.  I meekly complied.  After a few twists and turns, he informed me that the procedure was complete.

I was delighted.  "Thank you Son #1!"  I exclaimed.

"Call me Doctor Son #1." was his terse reply.

"OK Doctor."  I responded breezily.  "I guess I'm all fixed up."

"No.  Not yet."  The miniature doctor disappeared into his room and rustled about in his toolbox.  A few moments later, he reappeared with his hammer. 



Thump!  Thump!

Apparently, my arm was lumpy and needed to be evened out.  The miniture doctor examined his work and then sighed.  He walked out of the office to his room in search of another tool.

I called out.  "Are you finished?"

"Hang on, Mama."  He replied.  "I'm almost done.  I just have one more thing to do."

He rounded the corner with a SAW in his hands. 

Hmm.  I think I'll get a second opinion.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Breaking the Habit

Son #2 is slowly transitioning from breastfeeding to bottle feeding only.  He primarily breastfeeds all weekend and then drinks from the bottle while I'm at work on the weekdays.  Monday can get pretty dicey.

Here are Son #2's thoughts on this matter.

Son #2 opens his little eyes slowly.  It is still dark outside.  He ponders the darkness and says.  "Ung, wa ungi!  Ung, wa, ma, mama!"  (Translation:  I seem to be hungry.  Mother, will you please breastfeed me.")

After eating a delicious meal, Son #2 falls asleep and is placed gently into the basinette.  A little while later, the sun peeps through the window blinds.  Son #2 opens his little eyes and quietly shields his face from the light.  He plays with his yellow duck rattle and then says.  "Ung, wa, wa, ung, ungi!"  (Translation:  Once again, my stomach is growling and I am beginning to feel  hungry.  If at all possible, can you feed me with haste.")

In the kitchen, his dad prepares the bottle with loving care.  As he enters the room, Son #2 kicks his feet with excitement and his eyes light up.  His dad lifts the sweet baby to his chest and then settles down to feed him.  Son #2 gazes at his dad with love in his eyes and reaches for the bottle.  He puts the bottle into his mouth and contemplates the moment.  "Ung neh." (Translation:  This is not what I am accustomed to.  I will proceed to spit this rubbery contraption from my mouth.")

Sunday, January 22, 2012

How Loud Can You Go?

Son #2 has discovered his voice.  Now when he plays, he screams with joy. 

One day while laying in his play pen, he began to talk to his little bear mobile.  His conversation with the bears was punctuated with sharp little shrieks.  My husband, oldest son, and I watched with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. 

Son #2 kicked his little legs and sucked his hands as the conversation continued.  The bears on the mobile swayed back and forth in response to his exuberant kicks.  Son #2's conversation began to pick up some steam.  He shrieked and shouted with delight as the bears swung widely.  All of a sudden, he let out a a wild scream.  My husband remarked.  "Howard Dean, is that you??"

If you're wondering what Howard Dean's scream sounds like click below.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Man Card

We watch TONS of football.  Son #1 is the ultimate Cowboys fan.  We are in the process of brainwashing Son #2.  (Cue evil laugh.)

One fine Sunday afternoon as we cheerfully watched a couple unnamed but yet highly despised teams get eliminated from the playoffs, a funny beer commercial flitted across the tv channel.  Son #1 zoomed his cars around the imaginary racetrack on our living room floor.  As the characters in the commercial derided a guy for his chick-like behavior, my son slid his race cars in for the final lap of the pretend Indy 500 seemingly unaware of the tv noise behind him.

The tv man quipped.  "Well, that's the second unmanly thing you've done today."

My son's favorite toy car roared by.  "Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

The tv man's friend shrieked in a high pitched voice.  "Get me off this thing!!!!"

Son #1's evil nemesis car was on the heels of the favorite toy car.  "Zooooooooooom!"

A final zing ended the commercial.  "Man up!"

Son #1 muttered to himself as he took his cars around the last bend.  "Strike lose your man card."

Monday, January 16, 2012

What's Your Number?

We were sitting down eating supper when Son #1 said.  "Next year, I'll be eleven."

I looked up from my food and replied.  "Not next year.  You'll be eleven in six years."

"Do you know what six years feels like?"  My husband asked.

Son #1 looked confused.

"Well, right now you have lived for five years."  My husband continued.  "If you add the five years you have lived to one more year, that would be six years." 

"Oh!  I get it!"  Son #1 exclaimed excitedly.

Then Son #1 asked.  "Mama, what's your number?"

I giggled and replied.  "I'm going to be thirty-six."

Son #1 was amazed but then stated.  "I think that Dad has more years than you."

Then he turned to my husband and asked.  "Dad, what's your number?"

"I'm going to be forty."  He said hoping to shock our son.

My husband succeeded as Son #1 yelled out.  "Wow!  You're as old as Grandpa!"

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Eating the Tablecloth

We went to a restaurant with my family the other day.  After a lovely meal, Son #2 sat with his Abuelita (Grandma).

Son #2 has recently discovered that he could grab things and was busy playing with the paper tablecloth.  Focused as never before, he used both hands to rustle the paper.  His eyes opened wide and he pursed his little mouth.  His legs began to kick as he heard the rustling noise. 

The excitement was more than he could bear.  Son #2 began to pull the paper tablecloth to his mouth.  He had to try and eat it to fully experience the glory that was the tablecloth.  Abuelita saw the tablecloth moving ever so slowly to his mouth and gently pushed the tablecloth back to its rightful place.  However, Son #2 would not be deterred.  He had to eat the tablecloth! 

Again and again, Son #2 tried to pull the tablecloth towards his mouth.  Each time, he was gently stopped by his abuelita.  He fussed a little but Abuelita was tricky.  She would always have something cool to look at or do when the fussing began.

Finally,  we left the restaurant.  Son #2's eyes lingered at the intriguing tablecloth as we walked to the door.  He thought.  "Until we meet again...dear, sweet tablecloth.  Then, I will eat you."

Saturday, January 14, 2012

The Assemblers

We had just finished communion at church.  The communion glasses were stacked neatly in holders behind each pew.  Various people were collecting the glasses to be washed and stored.  Son #1 decided he wanted to help.

Son #1 ran up and down different aisles collecting the little glasses.  Then he carefully returned his collection to an elderly gentleman who was busily preparing the glasses to be washed.  The elderly man thanked my son and continued on with his task.  Son #1 had so much fun helping that he ran up and down a few more aisles to see if he could collect some more glasses.

Back and forth he ran from the aisles to the elderly gentleman with his collection of tiny glasses.  Then, my husband and I motioned to Son #1 that it was time to go. 

As he skidded to a stop in front of us, I asked.  "What were you doing?"

He responded happily.  "Oh, I was helping the assemblers."

Friday, January 13, 2012

Who's Cuter?

The other night while watching tv, my husband asked Son #1 a question with an impish glint in his eye.  "Hey son, who's cuter...that baby on tv or your baby brother?"

"My baby brother!"  Son #1 yelled out.

"Well, how about this.  Who's or your baby brother?"  My husband asked again.

"My baby brother!"  Son #1 responded catching on to the twisted little game my husband was playing.

"Alright, who's or your baby brother?" 

To this rotten question, I replied.  "Oh, you're both the cutest!"

Then my husband asked.  "Who's or your mama?"

Son # 1  paused for a moment and then stated.  "I'm cuter!"

What a rascal.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012


Son #2 is cutting a tooth.  I can see it beginning to poke through the gum line.  This jagged, sharp, and pointy front tooth is driving Son #2 crazy.

Last week, all Son #2 wanted was to be held.  He pushed the bottle away with disdain.  He turned up his nose to his toys.  His eyes would begin to close and just when we thought we could put him down to sleep, his eyelids would fly open  as he started to cry.  (The horror.)  The only thing that provided comfort was the boob or an icy cold teething ring.  (Noone has invented the icy cold teething boob so that was not an option.)  Sometimes we tricked him into taking a dab of Oragel.  Poor baby.

Tonight, after having a pretty pain free day, Son #2's mean little front tooth began to torture him again.  At first, he sucked on his hand.  The sucking increased in intensity as the pain set in.  Then he began to frantically reach for nearby toys in his basinette to suck on.  He sucked on the toys but to no avail.  Son #1 took pity on him and brought him Mr. Blue, Son #1's favorite stuffed animal.  Son #2 grabbed Mr. Blue and gummed him greedily in an attack dog manner. 

I think I'm scared.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

The Fist

Both my sons discovered their fists when they were about 2 weeks old.  They would stare at their fists captivated by its presence.

When Son #1 discovered his fist, my husband and I joked that he was exploring his hippie roots and getting ready to revolutionize the world.  Everytime he raised his fist to examine it, we would say.  "Viva la raza!  Power to the people!  Make love not war!  Give peace a chance.  The fist!"

After Son #2 discovered his fist, we tried saying the same line.  Son #2 would not have any of it.  He fussed and cried.  We immediately changed his saying to "Nacho Macho Muchacho!"

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Superman What A Ham

My husband loves to hold our youngest son in a Superman pose above his head.  Son #2 smiles and giggles everytime he goes flying.  When I gaze upon the precious scene, I am reminded of the time my husband flew Son #1 above his head when he was only 5 months old.

Son #1 was teething at the time and to keep his mind off the pain, my husband would have him fly like Superman.  I would sing. "Superman...What a ham!"  Son#1 would laugh, smile, and kick his little legs.  Little drops of drool would form at his mouth while he laughed. 

Son #1's laugh was infectious and soon my husband and I found ourselves laughing with our baby.  Unbeknownst to us, those little drops of drool were beginning to move away from Son #1's tiny face. 

Up, up, up went our baby as he shrieked with laughter.  Then down, down, down he would swoop as my husband called out.  "Wheeeeeee!"  On one particular ride up, Son #1 laughed uncontrollably so that a drop of drool shook loose. 

Up, up, up went our baby and down, down, down went the drool directly into my husband's mouth as he began to say "Wheeeee!" 


Drool can be a dangerous thing.

They're Rolling

Both of my boys roll around but for different reasons. 

When Son #1 begins to roll, it is out of sheer exhaustion.  His steps to rolling around on the floor are as follows:

Step 1:  Run around like a chicken without a head.  This helps keep Son #1's eyes from closing when he is sitting still.  Running around like a chicken without a head might include some Slow Mo Football action (see post from a few days back).

Step 2:  Hop like a cricket from couch to couch.  This usually attracks the ire of the parents and eventually gets Son #1 in trouble.

Step 3:  After sitting in timeout for hopping like a cricket, rub the eyes.  Slump up against a piece of furniture on the floor and slowly sink down to the floor until laying down.

Step 4:  In order to keep from relaxing, frantically roll around on the floor with eyes half closed.  This is usually the last ditch effort to keep awake.  When Son #1 was younger, the rolling was usually followed by screaming.  Finally, fall asleep mid scream and roll.

Son #2 tries to roll to see what is behind him.  His steps to rolling are as follows:

Step 1:  First, turn head to see what is beside you.  Hopefully, it will be a bottle, a boob, or a toy.

Step 2:  Upon discovering it is a toy, try to touch it.  Roll onto side by pushing with feet.

Step 3:  Fall back over and repeat Step 2.

Step 4:  Get from back to tummy with a helpful nudge from parents.  Look around with a mixture of joy and surprise.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012


Today, we watched an episode on Nova about volcanoes.  Lava, ash plumes, pyroclastic flows, and lahars flashed across the screen. 

Son #1 walked into the room and shouted "Oh wow!  It's coming for us!  Everyone's going to die!"  My husband and I explained that we did not live near volcanoes so there was no need to worry.

We continued to watch the show.  Occassionally, we would comment on things here and there.  My husband mentioned to Son #1 that when he was a boy, he lived near a volcano that erupted.  Son #1 was amazed. 

"You were there when it erupted?!?  YOU were going to die!" 

My husband looked at me and muttered under his breath.  "Man, he sure is attuned to death." 

Son #2 responded appropriately.  "Airgut." 

I looked over at Son #1 and asked.  "Are you going to be a volcanologist?" 

Son #1 shouted.  "Yes!  And then I'm going to build a race car that is faster than the volcano so it can save everyone!"

My hero!

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Slow Mo Football

Everyday, I witness a choreographed performance of Slow Mo Football.  Usually, the team that is playing is different each day.

As I walk in from work, Son #1 sprints down the hallway to the end zone.  He dodges tackles, side steps imaginary cornerbacks and runs the homestretch to score a touchdown.  The imaginary crowd goes wild as Son #1 spikes the ball and proceeds to get a flag for excessive celebration.

Now it is time for the kickoff.  Son #1 kicks it long to the 5 yard line.  Now he is the defense and proceeds to tackle my legs as I put down my purse and take off my jacket.  I go to hang up my jacket while Son #1 body checks me from every angle. 

He shouts.  "Ha ha!  I tackled you.  You're down!"

My response is usually a pronounced.  "Oh no!"

His defense stops the other team.  It's 3 and out.  Good job Son#1!

Now he is on the receiving team.  He catches the kick and begins to run for yardage and possibly a touchdown.  Oh no!  He's tackled at the 40 yard line. 

The imaginary team huddles together and then breaks.  They line up at the line of scrimmage.  I remind him.  "Don't throw the ball in the kitchen or my bedroom."  "Ok Mama."  He replies.  The center hikes the ball.  The quarterback throws it to his star receiver.  Son #1 catches and sprints 50 yards for a touchdown in the final seconds of the game!  The imaginary crowd cheers!  Son #1 and his team win again!


Monday, January 2, 2012

Mission: Pee On Parents

From Son #2's Point of View:

"This is Baby Voodoo preparing for take off."

"Baby Voodoo, you are clear for take off.  Bogies are coming from the hallway at 11:00.  Commence mission."

"Tower, I have the bogies in my sights.  Requesting permission to fire."

"Baby Voodoo, permission to fire is granted."

"Target acquired.  Firing first missile...NOW!  Target is missed.  Firing second missile...NOW!  Target is hit!  Target is flustered and running for cover.  Tower, requesting backup for second bogie.  Second bogie is quick."

"Baby Voodoo, request denied.  Kinder Voodoo is outside playing football."

"Preparing for evasive maneuvers.  Second bogie is coming at me with a diaper.  Target is in my sights.  Target acquired.  The target is too close.  Switching to guns.  Target is hit!  Yeehaw!!!!!  Baby Voodoo does it again!  These bogies don't stand a chance."