Church is fun.

It seems like every other week Payne does well in church. Dan and I get all hopeful that maybe we'll get to actually absorb something during mass soon, and then we get the devil child the next week.

Today was devil child day. heh. He was crying and yelling and we were trying to get him to be quiet, and he kept hitting us, which was fabulously embarrassing. Parent #1 would chastize him for hitting Parent #2, and then Parent #1 would get the toddler equivalent of "eff you" followed by five wee little fingers to the face.

So, I took him outside for a time out. This turned out to be more of a field trip than a punishment. Did you know a child can play with a BRICK WALL? That's it. Just brick and mortar. He was sitting there during his punishment smiling and laughing at the wall. I can't compete with that level of resourcefulness!

So after his time out, I said:

"Payne, are you going to be good in church now?"

Payne: "Uh huh."

"You aren't going to hit, right?"

Payne: "Uh huh."

"You're going to be quiet, right?"

Payne: "Uh huh!"

"Ok, lets go. Give me a hug."

Payne: (smacks me in the face)

Gosh, I'm so awesome at this whole discipline thing!

But, I think I've got the perfect punishment. I'm going to put this picture of him up, to hang around in cyberspace for all eternity. Maybe one of his friends will find it when he's 14. Muah ha ha!

Happy Halloween!

I've reduced my child to a pun.

Payne Stewart ,



meet Payne "Stewart".







and I'm not sorry! It was so worth it.

A timely disaster.

So Dan and I are making dinner, and Payne is getting antsy for food. I, being a lovely nutritionally minded Mother, set him up with a plate of fruit at the kitchen table. We go about our business, nothing to be concerned about, or so we think.

Things get suspiciously quiet. I turn and look at Payne.





REE! REE! REE! REE! REE!

(that was supposed to be the score to Psycho)



I KNOW, right?

So it turns out pomegranate seeds pop like mini balloons! Yay! How incredibly fun is popping dozens of tiny balloons? Payne thought it was a thrill a minute! Of course these mini balloons are full of nice, dark, incredibly staining red juice. The juice which was now all over my kid, my kitchen table, the mini blinds, the floor, and the walls.

How horrible is it that the first thing I did was laugh, and think of this?



And the second thing I did was make Dan take a picture?

Ok, well at least I cleaned up the kid and the walls before putting the picture on the internet (Puts gold star on Mommy behavior calendar).

Things Payne says funny.

I might as well have titled this "Things Payne says" heh heh.

He has mastered key, eye, bye, daddy, mama, cheese and hi. Humans not related to him actually understand those. All of the now too numerous to remember words are something that few can understand.

Some of my favorites:

Piggy: Gee! (We were watching the library puppet show yesterday and he kept yelling "Geee!" at the puppet pig. Aw, born heckler.)

Doggy: Doddy

Help: How (he asks me for "how" about 400 times per day right now)

Potty: Pah-ee! (This he screams anytime I head to the bathroom, and continues to scream while standing in front of me and trying to unroll the toilet paper)

Sit: This one just became clear, but until a few weeks ago his sit started with a "T". Yeah.

Water: wawer

Muffin: Muh! Muh! (while he flails his arms and looks at me desperately)

Cookie: Key! (This can get confusing as "key" also actually means a key and he's obsessed with the mail)

Blanket: nigh (as in night night)

Dog: Dao!!! (Yes, this is always spoken in a way that would imply three exclamation points)

Diaper: ipe-errrr

Golf: Goff! (my Dad has started the indoctrination early on this one)

Ball: doll

Bath: Baff! (which is always said while tring to take his own shirt off)

Shower: another super clear one, unfortunately he thinks it means to get naked (signing him up for therapy)

Up: Uh! Uh! Uh! (while staring up at me with what can best be decribed as Puss's eyes from the Shrek series)

Door: Doh-wer

Go: Goo! (which is always chanted as if we were at some sporting event)

Socks: soss

Shoes: soos

Toes: toss (I guess he likes his feet)

And my very favorite, "Dee doh!" which doubles as "There you go" and "Thank you", very Hawaiian of him, don't you think?

I could go on. I love this kid and his toddler speak so very much.

Stella is a head case.

Although I'll be the first to admit it probably isn't her fault.



I mean, Stella was in our engagement pictures, so obviously we set her up for a bit of an identity crisis. I got her as a Junior in college and she was queen bee for two years. We indulged her every weirdo whim.



She's always been, um, quirky to the max. She growls and growls at us about minor details around the house that aren't to her liking. She hates it when we move around the furniture. She'll sit by a blanket and growl at us until we put it over her. She constantly growls for food, but then only takes a few bites and saunters away all "Who's the Alpha now biatch!" but her newest thing is even weirder.

I assume this is related to the laundry room being her "sanctuary" from Payne, with the baby gate and all. However, it's really really unsettling to walk into the pitch black laundry room, flip on the light, and find Stella chillin in the whites bin. THEN she has the nerve to look up at me like I'm interrupting something! She seriously gets a "Do you mind?!" look on her face.

So yeah, my dog hangs out in the dirty laundry, by herself, in the dark. Not sure what to do with that.

I can't be the only one

who's kid is usually without either pants or a shirt pretty much anytime he's at home.


(I don't care who you are, that's just funny right there.)

(Ok, between the boots and the Shiner box, I'm starting to look a little country.)

(Those are carrots. He was "Helping" with dinner.)

I mean, if you're at home and you change your kid's diaper, why would you waste precious energy putting those pants back on? You could be using that energy to push the buttons on the remote! If the kid destroys his shirt during lunch I'm certainly not digging out a new one unless he's going to be seen by the general public. I consider a shirtless baby to be an excellent belly button location teaching opportunity. We're all about education in this household.

I really thought I was a patient person, until I had a child.

There are moments where my son can bring me to the brink of completely losing it.

For example, we were once in the grocery store, and I was drinking a latte from Starbucks. Is this revolutionary? No. But since I've quit working full time I try to be pretty frugal, and nearly $5 for a latte isn't exactly a bargain basement price, so I try to not have one too often. A latte is a BIG deal to me (my life is quiet, ok? heh heh). We had already had to leave Starbucks because Payne was being a pill and disturbing all of the "over the laptop" glarers.

So I'm perusing the canned tomatoes, when I hear a splattering noise coming from my cart. I spin around, and I swear everything went into slow motion. There is my son, grinning, pouring my beloved seasonally flavored espresso beverage out onto the linoleum. I just about dropped to my knees and wailed "My precioussss!".

At that moment, I had a very vivid fantasy of leaving him at the end of the aisle with a sign taped to his front that read "Buy an economy size carton of Goldfish crackers and a gallon of whole milk, and get this for free!". Instead, I mopped up my precious with baby wipes while muttering to myself, and took Payne home.

However, the frustration doesn't last too long, and before I know it he's making me laugh. Today it was while eating his lunch. Normally he throws his grilled chicken and green beans gleefully to the dogs as soon as my back is turned, but today (oh glorious day!) I gave him Frito pie (I added some diced carrots to the chili. Muah ha ha!). Ethel took up her usual ninja dachshund post beneath him, at a spot under the table that I can't see from my seat. He looked straight down at her as he stuffed his face with cheesy goodness, and said "Uh uh" with the exact same intonation I use. Ha! Take that ninja dog!

And if funny toddler hijinks's don't convince me to keep him around for a few more days, a well timed adorable face of mischievousness usually does the trick.

He's all "You'll get over it, Ma." smirky here. Harumph.

I'm a neat freak.

At least I hate clutter. I don't mind dirt, so much as everything is put away (wanna come over for dinner now? Ha ha).

My house actually could probably pass for a rental, except for all of the pictures of those same 10 or so people hanging all over the place, and I might be the only arguably sane person who has a framed portrait of her dogs hung in her breakfast room, but I digress.

I like things nicely arranged. My office book shelf was once a thing of...well, if not beauty, structure. I had it organized by book size and subject matter. All of the series were grouped together, there were various knick knacks positioned in the open spaces. It was tidy.

Then I birthed a human ping pong ball.


(The muffin tin is really an inspired touch.)

Now I just scoop up Sookie Stackhouse and slap her down right next to 1776. Jane Eyre suffers the indignity of being stacked horizontally within my battered Everyday Food collection. It's pure chaos I tell you!

I guess he prefers T.V.


(Guiltily draws line under and adds exclamation point to "Library story time" item on calendar.)

Abuse.

Payne has two beloved stuffed animals, creatively named Doggy (Thanks Emily!) and Piggy (pure poetry I know). He sleeps with them, he attempts to hold them, his cup, and possibly a bagel or a set of keys all at once. They are his buds.


(man, I wish I had a better picture of this)

I think we need an after school special moment with Piggy.

(Takes deep breath)

Today, during a looong car ride, I heard a disturbance in the rear of my vehicle. I turned to investigate the cause of the commotion and was shocked and horrified by what I saw. My son had Piggy over his knee, and was spanking him while yelling "No!", over and OVER again. He was spanking so hard poor Piggy's wee l'il curly tail was shaking.

(wipes away single tear)

After the incident, the assailant picked up Piggy and gave him a hug. What do you bet he promised never to do it again too? My OWN son, perpetuating a cycle of violence. (sob)

I turned away from this abhorrent spectacle, and found myself shaking. I plead the fifth regarding the assertion that I was shaking with laughter .

P.S. I have never turned my child over my knee! I really don't know where he picked this up. Personally, I'm choosing to blame the season opener of The Office. Down with the networks!

Like a deer in headlights.

I've talked to several Moms about this, and I find it hilarious that we all experience this same phenomenon on occasion.

Babies and young children can be pretty disgusting. I'm not sure how applicable that statement is to older children and teens, but since they don't wear diapers, I'm pretty sure they can't compete with the little'uns. Occasionally, my child will produce some sort of disaster of bio hazardous nature, and I'll be the one responsible for the haz-mat cleanup.

There is this moment, directly after the "incident" where you have absolutely no idea what to do. There is "stuff" everywhere, or there is "stuff" in such a precarious position as to potentially be everywhere if you don't address the situation correctly. So, you just stare at your child. You take a step left...(no no...that won't work), you take a step right...(but what about? Ah crap), you reach for your child, you let your arms fall again...this can go on for a solid minute, while Junior stares at you expectantly.

I swear, it's like gag worthy event induced paralysis.

Eventually, your brain kind of tosses together a plan, although the plan usually ends up failing you and you still end up scrubbing something unspeakable out of your kids hair, or out from under your fingernails, or off of the wall, or what have you.

Isn't parenthood GREAT?

And now I'll grace you with an illustrative photograph!








(Made you look!)

Poor Ethel.

Ethel has put in a lot of leg work when it comes to getting on Payne's good side.

When I was pregnant she used to drape herself across my stomach and every time Payne kicked her she huffed out a little satisfied doggy sigh and closed her eyes. Once he was born she would not leave him alone. If we set him on the floor she would root around his body, trying to reposition him just like a Mama dog shifts her puppies. He used to cry during his baths and I'd have to lock Ethel out of the bathroom because it upset her so much. So instead she would throw her body against the door repeatedly while I bathed him!







Now she's endlessly tolerant of him. He "pets" her, which more often resembles a low level beating, and she just winces every now and then and lays still. She lets me know when she thinks his morning chatter in his room has progressed to "Get me out of here" chatter. She's pretty much the model of a kid friendly dog.

What does she get in return for her saintly behavior? Last night, Dan and I were quizzing Payne on his body parts and we asked "Where's your elbow?"

He yelled "Eb-ow!" and pointed straight at Ethel.

Haaa ha ha! Poor girl.

23 months ago today, I took this photo.

We are two days shy of Payne's 23 month birthday, so I took this exactly two days before he was born.

Are your readyyyy?



Ta Daaaa! (I apologize if you're one of those weirdos that is feet phobic)

There are two very funny things about this photo:

A) My toes look like Little Smokies.

B) I'm wearing two different shoes.

I. About. Died. when my 39week and 4 day pregnant butt slapped my feet up on the dashboard and realized I had just fulfilled on of those infamous pregnant woman stereotypes. Not only had I put on two different shoes and walked out of the house, but I'd been running errands for HOURS before I noticed!

I remember it clearly. I noticed my shoes, almost cried, Dan parked the car at Wal-Mart, and I attempted to refuse to go into the store. My nutrient deprived pregnant brain was CONVINCED every person in the store would notice my shoes and laugh at me. Dan saved the say with "You're being stupid." Blunt, but accurate; very Dan.

And the kicker? We were running around frantically on a Saturday when I was too pregnant to see my own feet because we were exchanging or returning absolute boatloads of baby girl clothes. Two different ultrasound techs at two different appointments told us our baby was going to be a girl. The Friday before the shoe incident of 2008, I had an ultrasound to estimate the kidlet's weight, and it turns out he was very much a boy. I might have fallen off of the table when the tech informed me of this, except, you know, I couldn't roll from side to side without an assistant. Thank goodness we found out before his birth, or he would have come home in a pink knitted hat with a scalloped edge and a dachshund print.

That would have been awkward.

Who needs more than one adjective, really?

Payne has a huge enthusiasm for "spotting" cars. Considering we live in a huge metroplex, he spots them often. Our walks through parking lots have often come with a running commentary of "Cauh (car)...caaauh. Cauh! Cauh. Caaaaauuuh!".

Now the new development is the addition of the word "big". We have an adjective, yay! He uses "bee cauh" (big car) to describe trucks. Yeah, we've attempted to teach him the word "truck" but he's onto us (or potentially smarter than us) and is going the route of using two words he already knows instead of one new word. Payne has cleverly eliminated the need for the use of any other adjectives, or even qualifiers. His trick? Why, he uses volume to indicate increasing "cauh" size instead. Why didn't I think of that?

Payne cruising down the road:

(sees sedan) "Cauh."

(sees F-250 truck) "Bee cauh."

(sees delivery truck) "BEE cauh!"

(sees 18 wheeler) "BEEE CAAAAUUUH!"

(sees wide load trailer with pre-fab house in tow) I'm not sure as we haven't run across one yet, but I'm thinking his head would simply explode.

Or maybe he'd pass out.

So he has this face...

My son has made the same "I'm psyched!" face since early in infancy, and it slays me.

Exhibit A






















Exhibit B



































Exhibit C




































I love this face, BUT it sometimes might sort of come off as a little, well, I don't want to say creepy, so I'll say intense. Yes, that's it. I refuse to name the plastic horror movie villian that my son may or may not remind me of when he's making this face. I'm just requesting no one send him any red overalls or rainbow striped shirts for Christmas. Alrighty? Awesome. We won't ever have to speak of this again.

Can you clicker train a toddler?

I've got a table surfer. I borrowed the terminology from the dog training world where "counter surfers" (dogs who steal items off of kitchen counters) are a common issue.

See, the real problem is my "surfer" has opposable thumbs, and maintains an impressive level of silence, considering his normal noise level can often be somewhere north of an air horn.

The thief caught in action.

You can tell he's really ashamed, eh? (I promise he actually wears clothes most of the time.)

I've also found him up there:

- emptying out the salt shaker

- knocking down a vaseful of water and flowers

- unrolling a roll of paper towels

- pretending to whisk with a bowl and a fork (Ok, I'll admit that one was pretty cute)

He's just so PROUD of himself when he gets up there. I'm thinking a clicker and "positive reinforcement" via cookies might cure him, but then we've got the childhood obesity epidemic to worry about! Oh, the double edged sword.

I've decided to list the funny things Payne is saying every now and then, since he's started talking he cracks me up on a daily basis.

- Last night he was "counting" in his carseat on the way home. It went something like "Wuu-uhn!, Doo-ooh!, Oah-er, Iiii-ive, TREE! Yaaaay!" Uh, I guess he's creative?

- When we were leaving the house this morning he turned to Ethel and Stella (the dogs) and casually said "Bye girls!"

- My Mother's dog, Hannah, recently had back surgery. I've been pelting Payne with phrases like "Careful! She has a boo boo. Don't touch! Be gentle!" etc...in the vain hope that this might inspire him to NOT land her back at the vet. Soooo now he has renamed her. When she waddles up to him he gleefully yells "Hannah Boo Boo!"

And we're off!

I've decided to embrace the navel contemplating tradition of blogging, largely because I want to remember the things I've found humorous over the years. We all know I'm pretty fond of sharing amusing anecdotes from my day with pretty much anyone who will listen, so I've decided to concentrate my love of talking about myself into a central location. Hurrah!

I've taken a special interest in remembering things since I've become a mother. I mean, having a largely unsocialized mini human running around is pretty freaking funny approximately 70% of the time. The other 30% of the experience seems to cause me to vacillate between complete horror and inescapable frustration.

I want to remember this kid thing, because I know I'll wish I could later. Plus, I want to be able to respond to 16 year old Payne's "I hate you!" with "Oh yeah? Well....well you used to pronounce the word horse more like hoe-uss! You sounded like a guido with a lisp!" (Is guido a slur? I hope not.) I'm already rubbing my hands together in anticipation of all of the future humiliation potential!

I don't think this will turn out into allll mom stuff though, because, you know, I have dogs too!



And for my finale, a photo of my boss!




















(polishes fingernails on shirt)

Yeah, I should probably just classify this as a blog dedicated to my superior parenting skills.

Also, I should mention that any photo in focus was probably taken by my awesome photographer husband (all of his have the DCM watermark), who does a great job preserving the hilarity of raising a child. All of the crappy cell phone pictures are allll me! Oh yeah!