The Surprise

One day, I noticed that Son #2's diaper needed to be changed.  I called out.  "Change you!"

Son #2 looked up from his toys and immediately began to run away. 

I shouted out in mock surprise.  "Hey! Come back here!"

However, Son #2 continued to run in his tiny tennis shoe, hands in the air and laughing with glee.  I thought to myself.  "My baby is a nut."

When I finally caught Son #2, I scooped him up and carried him back to his room.  He wiggled and fussed as I lay him down to change his diaper.  I expected to find a wet diaper but nothing more.  With that in mind, I pulled out a clean diaper, one wipe, and his baby powder.  Sadly, there was more inside. 

I opened the diaper and found a pile of mushy poo.  The horror!  I only had one wipe!  Why wasn't he stinky?!  Was I losing my sense of smell?!

I silently cursed as I tried to keep my baby still while retrieving more wipes.    Son #2 turned from side to side trying to make an escape.  I held his legs in the air to keep his dirty rear from touching the ground.  Visions of poop spraying from his turning body made me shudder.  I hung onto his little legs with all my might as I wiped him clean. 

Once finished, I sprinkled Son #2 with baby powder and placed a new diaper on him.  Just as I was about to fasten the diaper, a water fountain of pee shot up to my face.  I leaped away in time to see pee pee cover my baby's clean clothes, diaper, and floor beside him.

With a touch of discouragement, I knelt down to clean my baby again.

Potty?

Son #2 is beginning to associate dirtying his diaper with using the potty.  We can usually tell when he needs to use the restroom.  His face gets tense.  His cheeks turn red.  He stands with his legs slightly apart and leans on a piece of furniture.  Sometimes, he grunts.

When he looks as though he needs to poo, my husband will ask.  "Do you need to potty?"  Typically, Son #2 will run to the potty and sit down.  Usually, he has still dirtied his diaper.  However, he is beginning to understand the concept.

The other day, Son #2 struck his usual potty stance.  My husband called out.  "Poo Poo?  Pee Pee?  Potty?"  My husband fully expected Son #2 to run to the restroom.

Son #2 looked up from his position and shook his head.  No!  He was firm about his decision.

My husband asked again just to clarify the answer.  "Poo Poo?  Do you need to potty?"

Son #2 responded emphatically with a firm shake of the head.  "Uh uh!"

My husband and I rolled our eyes at each other and laughed.

Son #2 was determined to avoid the potty that day!

The Garden

My husband and I just put in a garden in our backyard.  We are growing a variety of organic, Non-GMO vegetables in these fantastic garden boxes crafted by my fabulous husband.  It is all very exciting.

Before planting our seeds, my husband ordered a truck-load of dirt and manure to fill the boxes.  Forty pound bags arrived neatly stacked on several pallets.  These pallets took over our driveway and garage for a couple of days as we maneuvered the bags to the backyard via the wheel barrow.

Son #1 and Son #2 were in dirt heaven.  As my husband and I heaved the bags of dirt into the garden boxes, Son #1 and Son #2 trotted out with their plastic garden tools.  They climbed into the boxes and immediately started digging.  There was no purpose to their digging.  They dug for the pure joy of digging in dirt.  (and manure...)

Son #2 plopped himself down in the middle of a dirt pile and began to fling our quality dirt everywhere.  My husband yelled out.  "Keep it in the box!"  However, his words were in vain.  Son #2 was intent on digging to China.

Son #1 dragged out a variety of toy tractors, big rigs, heavy machinery, and motorcycles.  He was determined to make a motor cross track of grand proportions.  Dirt flew in all directions.  My husband shouted again.  "Keep the dirt in the box!"  My husband's instructions were heeded this time.

Son #1 and Son #2 played in the dirt for several days as we prepared them for the seeds and seedlings.  Eventually, their days of digging in the dirt came to a close.  We planted the vegetables and put up a rabbit fence. 

Sometimes, I can see the boys peeking over the fence at the garden boxes longingly.  They miss digging tunnels through the rich soil.  I miss watching two filthy, little boys crawl around in dirt piles with toy shovels and spades.  Fortunately, they'll get another chance to play in the dirt when we harvest the vegetables.

A Boy and His Dog

Son #1 has always been close to the family dog.  Old Socks, the original border collie in our lives, was found as a stray young dog on my back door step when I lived on a country road.  Old Socks preceded my first date with my future husband.  He was a good and faithful dog that loved to chase anything living and nonliving that moved. 

By the time Son #1 was born, Old Socks was a senior dog.  He still had spunk and energy but was less inclined to herd a brand new baby. 

Old Socks was very curious about Son #1 when we first brought him home.  He sniffed and introduced himself to the baby with border collie style.  Son #1 sucked on the Bo Bo (our name for the pacifier) and eyed him suspiciously.  Little did Son #1 know, Old Socks and he would become great friends.

 



Months went by and Son #1 was crawling.  Son #1 and Old Socks explored everything together inside and outside.  Old Socks would creak alongside Son #1 as he forged his way down his chosen path.

 

 

Then Son #1 began to walk.  His little legs would take him far and wide always with Old Socks behind him.  Son #1 explored parks and ponds.  Old Socks chased ducks and birds with lightening speed.

 



 

 

Years passed and Son #1 was a toddler.  Son #1 had discovered the joy of throwing the ball to Old Socks and watching him chase it like a lunatic.  They spent hours playing outside.

 

 

 

One day Old Sock's heart gave up and he passed away.  Our hearts broke in two as we lay him to rest on Family Friends' land.  Future Tio (Uncle) remembers that experience because he had to dig the grave twice.  The first grave was not where I wanted it.  He complained to my sister that I was crazy.  However, my sister gave a terse reply.  "Just do it.  She's sad."

 

 

 

When our hearts were mended, we began to look for a new dog.  We came across an injured young border collie that had a striking resemblance to Old Socks.  We took him home and tentatively introduced him to Sketchy, our old cat.  She nuzzled him lovingly and batted his tail as if to say.  "Old Socks, where have you been?  I've missed you so much!"  My husband and I eyed each other conspiratorially and immediately named the dog New Socks.

 

 

 

Son #1 and New Socks began to get to know each other.  At first, New Socks wanted to herd Son #1 around the yard.  We could hear shrieks of fear as New Socks nipped at our oldest son's heels.  However, we soon put a stop to that nonsense.  New Socks and Son #1 began their friendship with grudging respect that slowly grew into an inseparable love. 

 

Son #1 and New Socks love to wreak havoc in the yard.  Son #1 plays football, basketball, baseball, and soccer while New Socks casually watches the games.  New Socks is injured so he doesn't enjoy chasing the ball like his predecessor.  However, the two enjoy each other's company.  Even Son #2 is beginning to get in on the action.  May New Socks and my boys have many more years of fun together.

 

 

 

 

 



 





 

My Brother's Cars

Son #1 has been fascinated with cars since before he could walk.  He has a huge collection and loves to bring them out to the kitchen table to race them.  Son #2 wants to join in but Son #1 is usually very possessive.

One evening while Son #1 was taking a bath, Son #2 crept into the kitchen and spied the pretend race left askew on the table.  He wobbled to the chair and belly-flopped onto the seat.  Slowly, he rose to a standing position.  He lifted a car from the table and eyed it silently. 

Then, his imagination fired up.  He carefully pushed the cars back and forth.  As his game continued, Son #2 became increasingly animated.

Suddenly, tiny car noises erupted from my little baby.  He roared and revved engines as the cars squealed around corners.  Periodically, a crash would occur.

Son #2 was so engrossed in his game that he barely noticed me taking these pictures.  I crept to the bathroom where Son #1 was drying in a towel and said.  "You should see your little brother playing with your cars just like you."

Son #1's eyes brightened and he exclaimed.  "Oh my goodness!  He's trying to be like me and race!"

My two little boys are going to have so much fun growing up together.

P.S.  Please ignore the dates on the pictures.  The dates are wrong.  The time stamp was on but I had to share them anyway.  :)

The Wash Cloth

Yesterday afternoon, I was busy folding the laundry in the living room.  Son #2 bounded in from the back yard and scurried to see the piles of clothes.  He yelped and cooed while tossing the neatly folded stacks onto the floor.  I sighed in exasperation and began to refold the jumbled mess.

Son #2 discovered a fresh wash cloth on a stack of crisp linen.  He picked it up, brought it to his face, and made a funny sound.  I looked down curiously and asked.  "Baby, what are you doing?"

He giggled and responded.  "All done."

I watched him as he ran around the living room with the wash cloth.  Son #2 stopped suddenly and put the wash cloth to his face again.  I gently pulled the wash cloth down and looked at his face.  Clear boogers trailed down his nose to his upper lip.  He grinned and blew his nose on the wash cloth.  My eyes opened wide as I realized that my sweet baby boy was blowing his boogers onto my clean laundry.

Son #2 looked up from his soiled wash cloth and mumbled something in baby talk.  Then, he bobbled down the hall toward his room.  Before entering, I caught sight of him blowing his nose into the wash cloth again.  I closed my eyes, shook my head, and tried to find my happy place.

I will focus on being proud of Son #2 for blowing his nose independently.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

After eating lunch at my mom's house, my husband and eldest son began to load the car with our belongings.  I gabbed with my mom and sister while my youngest son wreaked havoc upon the living room and hallway.

As Son #1 and his dad exited the front door, they came upon the new neighbors standing on the sidewalk casually smoking cigarettes.  Son #1 eyed them and exclaimed in a loud voice.  "Smoking is bad!"

My husband's eyebrows shot up to the sky.  He muttered to Son #1.  "Don't be rude."

Son #1 would not be deterred.  He self-righteously announced.  "Smoking can kill you!"

"Shhh!"  My husband responded tersely.

How my husband wished the ground would open up and swallow them.  Yet, he stoically continued with Son #1 to the car.  The neighbors stared possibly out of disbelief.  Six-year-old children can be excruciatingly honest sometimes. 

With all of Son #1's proclamations about the evils of smoking hanging in the air, my husband hurriedly tossed our things into the back seat.  Quickly, he and Son #1 climbed into the car.

When Son #2 and I got into the car, my husband told me the story.  I giggled impishly as my husband said.  "Don't look at them."

As we drove away, I said with a touch of chagrin to the neighbors who just happened to be out of earshot.  "Welcome to the neighborhood."