Beauty rest

I know every mother thinks their kid is just the most adorable thing on the planet, but seriously, look at that sweet little face with those big fat cheeks that jiggle when he walks, and mouth that never shuts. Couldn't be cuter.

Mini Talan

Sometimes he just wants wear big boy clothes like his brothers. 

He really wanted Talan to wear this to bed and kept shoving them in Talan's face, but Talan had his heart set on sleeping in spongebob pants. I tried to get Syphr to put them back in the drawer, but he would not let them go.


After a few minutes I said, "Pre, do you want to wear those clothes?" He responded with a very loud "YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!" He would not take them off until bath time the next day. Luckily for Syphr, as long as he keeps his mitts of the spongebob pants, Talan will share his clothes.

Pre-halloween costume party

A couple days ago Ashton had the brilliant idea of having a costume party. Mostly I just think he wanted an excuse to wear the wrestling singlet. 

Syphr and I dressed up as Brad because Ashton said that was the only thing in the dress up box that would fit me. My feelings are slightly offended.

Ashton dressed up as his former 6 year old wrestling self. His costume party lasted until the next morning once he figured out he had the singlet on backwards. He turned it the right way, and it became the most comfortable outfit ever. 

 Talan was going to participate, but opted out at the last second after being deeply offended by something one of us did. Who did it, and what happened we will never know. We had fun anyway.

It is official

My life has now become extremely confusing. Possibly more difficult....or perhaps entertaining depending on the mood I am in. 

For the past couple days I've had the phrase "I love my pre-pre teen. I love my pre-pre teen." on constant repeat in my head. We aren't in full blown pre-teen attitude yet, but he is making a glimpse of what that will be like oh so clear at least once a day. 

A couple days ago my pre-pre teen became unglued and incapable of anything that didn't involve laying on the floor, shouting, and self pity. The reason for this outburst was because a song was stuck in his pre-pre teen head, making it absolutely utterly impossible to clean his room. To make matters worse, no one was joining in his pity party, and every suggestion I offered was the stupidest thing he has ever heard in his entire life. I love my pre-pre teen, I love my pre-pre teen. Just when he was sure his life was just so horrible and couldn't possibly get any worse than that moment with a song stuck in his head and a mother spewing stupid words out of her mouth, his head began to hurt. 

After repeating my new phrase a few more times, I offered to get him some medicine. There I go again with those completely idiotic words. Why I would think that a tylenol would solve his headache problem is beyond me. Definitely not as brilliant as his plan to open his head and remove his brain. I love my pre-pre teen, I love my pre-pre teen. 

Twenty five minutes later my wonderful pre-pre teen gave some food for thought. In his irrational, woe is me saga he decided that the ENTIRE thing was my fault. The song stuck in his head, inability to clean his room, headache, attitude.....ALL my fault. 

Why?

Because I really should have thought of how horrible his life was going to be with a song stuck in his head, and not being able to play Playstation for 20 minutes while he did chores, BEFORE I had him. 

I love my pre-pre teen, I love my pre-pre teen.

All you can do sometimes is roll your eyes, sigh and enjoy the show. Fifteen minutes later he hung up his pre-pre teen suit and went back to being fun, sweet Ashton. 

Cheers all around!!

Yesterday I rubbed peanut butter on Syphr's arm. Nothing happened. 

Today I gave Syphr a peanut butter sandwich from the confinement of the kitchen counter. He ate it, liked it, and absolutely nothing happened. Not one red spot, not one hive. 

Looks like Talan is the lone ranger in the peanut allergy department.

Preschool

Talan is now a preschooler. Something I thought my kids would never go to, let alone pay for. However, with Brad being gone, all day Kindergarten coming up next year, and a kid who needs to pick up the pace to be ready for kindergarten, I felt like he needed to get his feet wet in the school system. 

Upon arriving to his class on the first day and seeing the big sign  saying 'NO PEANUTS', I nearly closed my eyes because surely this was the time that the other parents started throwing stones because they can't send their kid to school with PB&J. Luckily for me, all the parents were okay (or at least griped about it on their own time) with being a peanut free class. It is out of my hands wether or not they remember every day, but I guess that is what the Epi Pen is for....just in case. 

Here is what Talan says about going to preschool:

I like to wear my backpack. I like to play at the park. I like to sleep. I like to play inside the house. I like to play inside preschool. My favorite thing about preschool is playing outside.

Looks like preschool was the right decision. Plus I can regain my sanity in that 4 days a week.

three things

In the past few days I've learned three things:

1 - When the weather channel said that the DC area will be experiencing remnants of Tropical Depression Lee, they really meant it. It has been pouring rain for the past three days which is causing some leaky roofs (not mine, thankfully, after a reluctant trip to the attic), flooded basements, a spillway barely able to contain the water raging down it, and really spectacular puddles for jumping. In these past three days I've learned that Tropical depressions really are completely depressing. 

2 - Most people don't know this story about me, because its not one I like to relive, but I think it might help you understand so I will risk total humiliation actually blogging this event. 

Several years ago Brad bought a car in hopes of fixing it up. It was a Nissan 280ZX, and while in great running condition, had one minor flaw which made me cringe the few times I actually rode in it. There was a hole, yes I said a hole, in the driver side floor. It wasn't a gaping hole, but it was big enough to let "bugs" of the 8 legged kind inside. 

The last time I was in this car, Brad was deployed (go figure), and Ashton and I had to move it half way across town one evening. I mentally prepared, checked things out before I got in, and decided I would just drive as fast as I could and get the heck out of that car. I felt confident as I hit the first stop light and nothing traumatizing had happened thus far. We merged on the highway, and while pushing 80 mph and only 2 exits from home I saw out of the corner of my eye a leg. It only takes one leg and I'm out.

My reaction was to slam on the brakes, swerve to the side of the road, climb over Ashton in the passenger seat, grab him out of the car as if our lives were on the line, all while on the side of the highway in pitch darkness. I called my brother in law who came prepared to successfully tackle the 8 legged critter, but not until everyone had a chuckle at my traumatizing expense. 

Hello. My name is Rebecca, and I have an irrational fear of spiders. 

Every time Brad has been deployed, I've lived with family, or close enough to call my spider killing team whenever needed. But this deployment I've decided to stay here in Virginia, no family in critter killing distance. 

Today, while upstairs, I heard Ashton yelling and breathing heavy. I know this sound because I have also passed much of my despise of anything with that many eyes and legs onto sweet Ashton. I feel deep guilt for this and plan to apologize to his future wife. 

I went downstairs, and nearly unable to catch his breath, I gathered the words 'spider, bathroom, huge' and the most important, 'I'M NOT KILLING IT'. Panic ensued me. What do I do? I had never been in this situation before. We both crept into the kitchen fully cautious of our surroundings because, in our minds, this predator could be anywhere waiting and ready to jump out at us. (I totally understand how ridiculous it sounds). The door was shut. I thought about just leaving it in there, plugging the small opening under the door, and never using that bathroom again. I thought of calling my sweet visiting teacher who lives down the street, because she offered to be my spider killer, but it was pouring outside and I hated to have her walk all the way over in the river that used to be the sidewalk at dinner time for something that seemed so silly. Still banking on option one,  I called Brad thinking he might miraculously be able to reach through the phone and take care of the situation himself. There wasn't anything he could do. I was crying at this point, because this is a serious traumatizing experience for me as silly as I know it sounds. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that this thing is in my house? 

I put Ashton in charge of the small boys,  and armed with a toy grabber arm crept downstairs. It took me a good 5 minutes to get past the baby gate into the kitchen. I had been upstairs trying to figure out who was going to solve this for me, and who knows what that spiders agenda was. It could be anywhere. 

I stood in the kitchen, frozen, telling myself all I had to do was open the door. Just reach the grabber to the door and open it. There were several attempts to fully open the door, not knowing what was behind the door, or when it was going to charge at me. 

The door was finally open, and there it was. Well, 1/4 of it. I could only see some legs. I grabbed, with the grabber of course not going to get another step closer, the only thing in the cleaning cabinet I could reach. A unused bottle of Clorox Toilet Bowl Cleaner with Bleach. On the other side of the kitchen I made sure it was open, tested how far it would squirt, and did a test spot on the floor to make sure it wouldn't bleach my bathroom. All was good and the legs were still in the same spot waiting for my attack. 

I was able to muster up enough courage to squeeze the heck out of that Clorox bottle in the direction of those legs...or all over the front of my bathroom if anyone is keeping track. I saw my 8 legged nemesis move to the left. It was retreating. Great....except I couldn't see it any more. Suddenly it could be anywhere again. 

After a break to pat myself on the back for great bravery in coating my bathroom with Clorox, I realized the next step was to turn on the light, but not before I made two extra sprays in the direction of the back of the bathroom which was not in my view. 

I knew I was going to have to finish this guy off if the bleach bath hadn't. I tried reaching the broom around the corner, but it was too long, as was the swiffer mop. Back to the arm grabber which took several attempts to lift the light switch. I came close to looking in the bathroom, but just couldn't bring myself to stick my whole head in the bathroom. I called for Ashton, who realized what trauma this was causing me, summed up his bravery to enter the bathroom and look for the spider. According to him it was no where to be found, but I remembered a towel on the floor. I ran through my game plan in my head, and feeling pretty dang courageous, I quickly drug the towel into view with the broom, still standing as far away as possible. There it was. I used the rest of the bottle of bleach directed at the perpetrator. The bottle was empty and I opened my eyes to see a black blob which was not looking so much like a spider anymore.  I confirmed, from a distance, he was dead. 

Winner winner chicken dinner! I battled an 8 legged freak and SURVIVED! I need a new broom, hand towel, arm grabber for the kids and Clorox Toilet Bowl Cleaner, because they all went straight to the outdoor trash for being involved in this incident, but I did not die. Nothing charged at me. Nothing jumped on me. Nothing even close to that happened. 

So, while I know this was an incredibly long story, the second thing I learned in the last few days is, I do have the courage to do things that I didn't think were possible, and hopefully my 9 year old will see that, and figure out that he does also, so he can too become a spider slayer. 

3 - One of the main reasons I decided to stay in Virginia was to make myself learn how to ask for help and to receive help that people offered which is something I struggle in. Help when I need a break, help when I can't do something myself, help when I need advice, or just someone to talk to who doesn't end a sentence with "poop. the end."  

In the past few days I've been so welcomed with new friends making sure I was doing okay, making sure I had all the information regarding the best schools in the area, stopping by during this tropical depression to make sure my attic isn't leaking and ruining my stuff, insight on which bike trails lead to where, etc. While I do miss being right around the corner from my favorite sister in law, I'm finding I also have a family here which makes this feel a lot more like home.

4th grade

Fourth grade is a total reality check. Maybe it is knowing he will turn double digits in 4th grade which makes him seem so much older, or maybe it is realizing he is over half way done with his elementary school career.  Either way, I feel like I'm dropping him off at kindergarten again. 

He reluctantly allowed me to take a couple of first day of school pictures.

Since we live less than a mile from school, there is no bus pick up or drop off. All four of us were excited to walk Ashton to school today, only to wake up to the sounds of rain due to what is left of Tropical Depression Lee. Luckily Chappie started right up after the lift gate had apparently not been closed all the way since Sunday.

Even though Ashton claims he is not excited about school starting, I can tell he is. Mostly due to the fact that his teacher is a man. He says that he is still okay with running away from girls this year, but next year might be different.



On a side note:

This new fourth grader has officially graduated from laundry school. He can now wash, dry, fold, and put away his own laundry! I enjoy this milestone mostly because now when he doesn't tell me that he needs clean clothes, it isn't my fault that I didn't do his laundry. I doubt he feels the same.