While dad's away

Most of what we have talked about in the blog is interesting, fascinating, worth noting stories we want our boys to remember. I will make a run down of the week my husband was in Florida on business...yes business.

Day 1: My oldest son Dylan and I decided the baby, Dalton, was ready to move out of the crib and into his toddler bed. This was a big move for mom, not because he is the baby, but he is also the destructive, no fear-having, encourages spankings, little man at the small age of 2. I had just finished redecorating his room in a surfer theme, so I figured this is the time; he is ready and so am I.

Nights 1-4, smooth sailing, Dalton was actually telling me he was tired and ready for bed. He isn't my cuddler, so we read a book, he jumps in and we are good to go. I had plugged the monitor back in, for the just in case moments....

Thursday 5:30 AM, I hear him crying, I meet him in the hall and tell him it is still night night time. He is telling me, "mommy...nose, mommy nose" I hug him and tell him we are going back to bed, he says it to me again. I look at his face, he is covered in blood from the bridge of his nose to his belly button. I run to the bathroom, as I try to clean him up I see myself in the mirror, where I had hugged him and him running his little hands down my arms...yes, blood everywhere. Best guess, he busts his nose when he rolls out of his bed.

Friday 12:45 AM, I hear him crying again, I am thinking good grief!!! I meet him in the hall and then the smell hits me. He has thrown up all over his bed, down the hall...on the carpets I had cleaned the night before. I had to give him a bath, get him changed, I changed my shirt, stripped the beds and did a load of laundry. Yes, I had to clean the carpets again. I was up until 2:30. My oldest walked in to see why we were all up..I told him if he wanted to clean-up puke he could...he went back to bed.

I am bleary eyed at the end of the week. I hadn't talked to my husband since Monday night with the exception of one quick call. This should give him all the details....

I am seeking paybacks BIG TIME.

My son is HOT...WHAT?!!?

Over the Labor Day holiday my sister in laws family had a cookout. We were among friends and family to enjoy the last meaningful days of the summer...did I mention in OKC they had high winds, lighting and torrential downpours??? Anywho...

I was walking inside the front door when we first arrived, I was holding hands with Dylan, we passed two 'tween girls one from the wedding and her friend. I heard the friend say, "huh, uh". I asked, "what"? The friend replied, "she said that Dylan was their boyfriend from the wedding"....he's 5!!! I laughed and went on my way. After about 3 steps, I hear..."he's HOT"

I told my husband about the girls whispering about Dylan...we thought, this can't be true; can't we wait for the next 10 years, NO, make that 15 years before we talk about my son being HOT??

Giving Props...

Okay, I gotta at least give some props to Dylan, at least he gets out there and without the liquid encouragement his Dad requires...

Dancing Skills must come from Mom

So a buddy and co-worker of mine was telling me today about his step-son and how he's become a pretty cool kid. He's starting the 5^th grade and enjoys listening to the music we like. So obviously since we're cool, liking what we like makes you cool too. But I digress. He said his son likes listening to AC/DC. To which I asked "Bon Scott or Brian Johnson?" "Bon Scott" he replies. "Damn, he is cool."

He goes on to tell me that he went into his room the other day and his son was doing his homework and listening to the radio. "What are you listening to?" "Smokehouse Blues on KMOD."
That is Awwwwwwesommme.

So of course not to be outdone I had to tell him about my cool son, though it turns out 'cool' is relative. Try to picture this, the 2 year old has a microphone that plays some techno-tronic version of Mary Had a Little Lamb that he is playing at full volume while singing into it the 'lyrics' as loud as he can. And here comes his 5 year old brother, standing in front of the TV for all to see, in just his underwear, and he begins to dance. His dance of choice, from all I can gather and not sure where he got it, was "Poppin and Lockin" or maybe it was the "Robot". For those that need further illustration, here is the definition: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=poppin%20n%20lockin

and here is a visual of what my skinny white son in his underwear I believe was attempting (I wish I had the actual footage, so use your imagination and imagine how hard it was to let him know I was not laughing AT him, but WITH him and crush his ego):

Big Boys Cry

Okay, in the interest of doing more catch-up, this is something I wrote down "old-school like" in a journal I was attempting to start with actual pen and paper. It was about 1 ½ years ago while I was recovering from back surgery. Dylan was 4 ½ and Dalton was 10 months old:

Recovering from back surgery I was unable to bend over or kneel down to share my nightly kiss & hug with the boys at bedtime. Dylan and I began a new tradition by kissing our own hands and then putting them together like a soft 'high 5' while saying I love you. When we couldn't hug, Dylan would touch his heart and I would touch mine to signify our hug. (Dylan's idea)

Can't get much sweeter, right? Wrong.

On this night, after exchanging our kiss 'high 5' and hand-to-heart hug, Dylan went to Dalton's room and then came back into mine. He told me since I couldn't go into Dalton's room and reach him to give hugs, he went in there instead. Dylan then kissed his own fingers, touched them to his heart, and then touched Dalton and told me he took some of the love that I had given him and gave it to Dalton, and kept the rest for himself.

True, I was on some good painkillers at the time, but you can't pull on the ol' heartstrings much better than that.