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We’re on TopMomma! Please Vote for Us!

I'm a Top Mommma!

Ok loyal readers, we are once again embroiled in a blog popularity contest and we need your help! To vote for us, please go to TopMomma and click on this adorable picure of my son Joshua on his first trip to the dentist:

Joshua goes to the Dentist

(I took this with my camera phone so the quality’s not great but the cuteness is spectacular!)

Then, repeat as many times as you like. There is no limit to how many times you can vote! So please, pretty please go to TopMomma and vote for us!

Now, since you are good loyal readers and are going to vote for us numerous times, I will tell you the story behind the pic. Two months ago, I took Joshua to the dentist for the first time. I was very nervous, because Joshua is a bit of a scaredy cat, and even I hate going to the dentist and I’m not a three-year-old. So, I entered the exam room with much trepidation. But Joshua really exceeded my expectations (which is why I set them so low, ha ha)! The dental hygienist was great and she gave him the silly sunglasses to wear so the exam light wouldn’t blind him. She explained everything she was going to do and took it easy when he started to freak a little. (“I don’t like that!” he told her about a thousand times.) She really was great at her job and finally made him feel comfortable enough to do a fairly decent cleaning. Shew! I was prepared for a mega-fit, but instead of a snotty, tanrtum-throwing boy, what I got at the end of the appointment was the smiling, cheesy, cute, happy little guy in this picture. I was so proud of him!

But I’m still really glad we only have to do that every six months. My nerves can’t take much more than that!

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Sunday, Bloodier Sunday

So, I had a rough time getting ready for church last Sunday. Today, I had resolved, would be different. I picked out my and the kids’ clothes Saturday night. I got Joshua dressed and ready early so he could go to church with Bobby and play while Bobby practiced with the worship team. I put Sophie down for a nap when she started getting cranky and decided to go to church a few minutes later than I usually do, so that she could have a short nap and I could get myself ready without her screaming the whole time. So, I was able to do my hair, put on makeup, and wear actual dress clothes. High-heeled shoes! Even (gasp!) accessories! Everything was going swimmingly. The only thing I didn’t get was breakfast, so I decided to run thru the blessed drive-thru at Tim Horton’s on the way to get a Café Mocha and a Yogurt & Berries. So I got Sophie up, got her in the car, and got on my way. Then, in the midst of ordering my breakfast treats at the drive-thru speaker, my cell phone rings. I dug around in my purse while shouting my order and found the phone just in time. It was my husband.

Me: Hello?
Bobby: You still at home?
Me: No, I’m in the drive-thru at Tim Horton’s. (and a vanilla yogurt & berries. Yes, that’s all. Ok.)Bobby: What? Oh, ok. Well. Joshua fell off the stage and smooshed his lip. He’s going to be ok, but he’s really sad and he really wants to come home.
Me: (Sigh) Ok, I’ll take him home. (Hi. Fine. Sorry about the phone conversation. Thank you.) Is he all right?
Bobby: Yeah, he’s just really sad.
Me: Ok, I’ll be right there. Can you bring him outside?
Bobby: Yeah. See you soon. Sorry, baby. Love you.

I drove to church and collected Joshua. I was so sad that he was hurt and sad I wasn’t getting to go to church. I had a Milkchic nursing cover I had purchased for a friend at church and was bummed I wasn’t going to get to give it to her. (Bobby had the honor, though!) I felt “all dressed up and no place to go.”

Bobby brought Joshua out to the car. My poor baby boy was holding a tissue on his lip. He wouldn’t let me see it. He was still really upset so I did what every good mother does and drove to McDonald’s to get him a chocolate milkshake. He took one drink and said it hurt and cried & cried. Grrreat. When we got home, I finally got him to give me a look at his wound. His bottom lip is FUGE (that’s how Joshua says “HUGE” and we don’t correct him because we think it’s cute. Again, I am a good mother.) It’s also bloody and bruised on the inside. Poor little guy! He looks like that kid from the Fat Albert cartoon (was his name Mush Mouth?), the one who talked funny, only you know, blonde and white and without the hat pulled down over his face. I can’t convince him to let me put any ice on it and he refuses to take the tissue away. We’ve been home for an hour now and he’s still got his hand pressed against the tissue and he keeps trying to talk through it and I cannot understand a word he’s saying.

I’m fairly sure he’ll survive, and since I had my coffee, fairly sure I’ll make it through as well. Right now I am bargaining with him to get him to take the tissue off his mouth. I’m offering to play trains, but he’s not buying! So I’m searching for some more tricks to pull from my sleeve…too bad I put on a cute little sleeveless number for church.

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From the Precious Lips of our Three-Year-Olds…

Yesterday I read The Crunchy Domestic Goddess’ post about her three-year-old saying something very “crappy” (please go read it), and I was inspired to let you all in on the latest tidbits that have been flowing forth from the cute little lips of my three-year-old son and Emily’s three-year-old daughter.

Let’s start with Tuesday afternoon. Joshua and I were eating lunch at the dining room table when he all of a sudden said, for no apparent reason: “I don’t have private parts. I just have nipples.” (I have told him to call my breasts Mommy’s private parts.)

Then, a couple hours later, I was sitting on our love seat, about to nurse Sophie. Joshua was sitting on our other couch, opposite me. When he saw I was about to feed his sister, he starting waving his hands in protest. Here is what ensued:

Joshua: I wanna hug you!
Me: Come on over here and hug me then.
Joshua: I can’t! Your private parts are out!
Me: You can still hug me.
Joshua: But your private parts are out!

I don’t get the kid. My “private parts” have been “out” like 50% of the time for the last nine months, so what’s the big deal now?

Fast forward to that evening. We had friends over for dinner, and after dinner we were all talking in the living room when I smelled that Sophie needed a diaper change. This was her sixth, yes I said sixth poop of the day, so her little hoo-ha was very red. Joshua watched as I dabbed diaper rash cream on her “private parts.” My husband and friends didn’t hear the conversation Joshua and I had next:

Joshua: Why are you putting that on Sophie’s pee-pee?
Me: Cause her pee-pee is sore, honey, and this will make it feel better.
Joshua: Oh that’s weird. Sophie’s private parts are different than mine.

A few minutes later I took Sophie up to bed. Apparently as soon as I was out of sight, Joshua said to my hubby and our friends, “My private parts aren’t sore.” Of course they had no idea what he was talking about! I just love it when the little guy talks about his goods to the company! They enjoyed my explanation when I came back into the room. We know these friends really well or I might have been worried!

But these aren’t as bad as what Kate said to Emily the other night. She, like Amy the Crunchy Domestic Goddess, really took one from her little girl! They were out for dinner and sitting at a restaurant booth (Emily says, in defense of herself, that she was hunched over in said booth, but we’ll have to get the real story from Kate) when Kate said, “Mommy, why does your belly have steps?”

Ouch! Pull the dagger out quickly, Kate! Now that’s crappy!

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