I've been wronged!

We let Quincy play out in the backyard often. Today, he wanted out to work on his garden. He planted grass in it yesterday and thought it needed something done to it.

Anyway, he decided that they grass needed trimmed so he borrowed my scissors that were out there and went to work.

Meanwhile, in the house, I was eating my lunch while my husband washed the dishes in the kitchen and watched Quincy out the window. He looked away for a moment, only a moment. I heard him say, "Oh, no!" That got my attention.

He opened the back door really quick and yelled at Quincy, "Why did you do that?" In the meantime, I ran to the door to see what disaster had happened.

I have had one cherry tomato plant in my garden this summer. This past week, it got eight little green tomatoes on it. I've been pretty excited about having eight tomatoes at once.

Quincy cut it down with the scissors. His reason? "I don't think I like tomato plants"

There'll be pictures tomorrow.

The Gardening Bug Bit Quincy!

Or maybe he just really, really likes mud! When he was almost a year old, if he got mud on his hands he would stare at it and then cry until we washed him off. Now, he loves to make mud. He loves to play in it.

He says that he's gardening. What do you think? It looks like playing to me!


Notice the mud puddle below him in this one and the pic below this. He made that with the hose.




He also got a little wet while messing with the hose.


He's checking out his feet here.


This is after playing in the mud the next day. Doesn't he look proud?


And his feet again! He took a much-needed shower after this!

I am an angry 4 year old boy!

That's an apt description of my child.

He's mad because we won't buy him this toy or that toy. He's mad because I won't stop at McDonald's at 9 o'clock at night. He's mad because Wubbzy isn't on all the time, or we made him leave the playground or sit down and eat lunch or told him to stop spitting. Whatever we have done, he's angry.

He spent the last week in Florida with my parents. They frequently heard, "I'm mad," and ,"I'm angry." He had to be carried out of a toy store because they took him in just to look. Last night, my mom would not let him have a steak knife at the restaurant they were at and he pitched a fit. He told me that he understood that the knife could hurt him but that "Grandma was supposed to share her knifes."

When he gets mad, he spits. Unless he's angry because we're trying to leave the playground, then he runs away. Once caught, he yells, screams, and kicks his feet. It's awesome.

My sister thinks he needs to go to some sort of anger management/behavioral class. My friends with 4 year olds tell me that this is mostly in the realm of normal behavior. Is it? Any suggestions?

Life at the moment

My husband and I are nearing the 5th anniversary. I'm happy. I guess. Is a happy marriage one that you're content in? I'm content and comfortable. And annoyed.

I get tired of being home alone all the time with no one to talk to but my 4 year old. I am tired of never spending any time with my husband. Scratch that, we spend time together, but we're both asleep.

Is marriage, at this point, supposed to feel kind of like having a roommate? One who kisses you in passing every once in a while?

Maybe I read too many romance novels and have seen "Twilight" too many times. I want my relationship to be similar to Edward and Bella's. To be someone's "own personal brand of heroin." Is that even possible after this many years together?

Quincy has been in Florida all week and we really only got to spend one day together. Well, we spent Sunday together, but I had fever and was pukey and nauseous. I'm not counting that. Our one day together, we had two arguments. I thought one of them would never end. Quincy gets back tomorrow and I am looking forward to that.

Deceptive Photography

Today, we took a trip to the park. Quincy had fun on the slide!



He even had fun posing for pictures!



He thought it was great to peer out at me from the holes.



And, again, the slides were awesome!



What was not fun was leaving. When I said that it was time to leave, Quincy ran the other way. There's lots of unreachable places at the playground. I could see the benefits of a leash for a 4 year old. I finally cornered him, picked him up, and carried him to the car screaming. Other toddlers were leaving and not screaming. Not mine though. Mine screamed all 20 minutes of the ride home. We're not going back to the park anytime soon.

My son has no future in crime

It seems that the ability to lie is genetic and my son got my inability. I was always a crappy liar. Now, I rarely even bother. I can do the white lie, but the big ones elude me. I always give myself away. I used to envy those people who could lie smoothly, but, enough about me.

I meant to post this yesterday, but it was Quincy's graduation from his 3 year old preschool class and then I had to work so there was no time. It's been a crazy week. I have pictures from the graduation that I plan to post this weekend.

Getting back to the subject at hand, I was happily watching "Criminal Minds" the other night when Quincy came walking into the room with two Sharpies without lids. He had been quiet in the living room, but I assumed he was watching something on Noggin. I was obviously wrong. I looked an him and said, "What did you do?"

He ducked his head and said, "Wellllllllllll...."

Again, "What did you do?"

He said, "I colored on the big TV screen."

This got me up. I went into the living room and he really had colored the big TV screen. There were big loopy scribbles on it. I said, "You'd better hope this comes off," and got the bottle of rubbing alcohol and some paper towels. As I started cleaning, I reminded him that his Daddy would probably punish him if he found out about this.

It came off! I said, "Quincy, you are lucky that came off. Don't tell your Daddy what you did."

Five minutes later, my husband came walking in. He forgot his cell phone and came home to get it. By this time, Quincy was sitting quietly on the couch. As soon as my husband walked into the living room, Quincy looked up and said, "Daddy, I colored on the big TV screen with Sharpie, but Mommy got it off, so it's okay!"

It took him 30 seconds to give himself away. My husband and I looked at each other and laughed. I said, "Well, he'll never be a criminal!" Really, a police officer would ask, "Who did this?" and I can just see Quincy raising his hand and saying, "It was me! I did it!"

All You Need is Love

That's the song I was listening to on the way home. The conversation went something like this:

Quincy: "I want to be a firefighter when I grow up!"

Me: "I thought you wanted to be a policeman?"

Quincy: "NO! I WANT TO BE A FIREFIGHTER NOT A POLICEMAN!"

Me: "You could be a Marine first. Grandpa was a Marine."

Quincy: "NO! i DON'T WANT TO BE A MOE-RINE! I WANT TO BE A FIREFIGHTER ONLY! YOU LET ME BE A FIREFIGHTER!"

Me: (quietly) "I didn't say you couldn't be one." (singing along to song)

Quincy: "YOU STOP TALKING! JUST BE QUIET!"

Someone was testy tonight!

Quincy--0; Sidewalk--1

Usually Mondays are uneventful. I have a day off and I go grocery shopping. That's about it. I know. Exciting.

Today, we set out to get Quincy's hair cut. It was long and looked bushy. I conveniently forgot that most barbers are closed on Monday. Two shops later, we found one open. It was at The Avenue, an outdoor mall here in town. I hung out with Quincy during the hair cut and Keegan browsed Best Buy. Afterwards, Quincy and I headed for Best Buy, too. Keegan met us on the sidewalk and the adventure began.

Quincy decided to run away from us and back towards the haircut shop. He was wearing Crocs. It was a bad idea. He got about six or eight feet away and then boom--faceplant. He slid on his forehead and nose, with most of the impact being absorbed by his head and nose. He ended up with a goose-egg on his head and a scrape below that. His nose bled like crazy. It took six wet paper towels to get it manageable. When we headed to the car, I had another three paper towels in my hand and his nose continued to bleed for ten minutes. He also scraped up his left knee. He looked like he'd been in a fight and lost.

Here are some pictures once we got home. He had stopped being upset by this time.


Well, mostly stopped being upset anyway. He looks kind of sad in this one.


A close-up of the forehead!


That's not blood that I didn't scrub off on his nose. That's an actual scrape where he slid. Ouch!


Looking pretty relaxed here after some candy.

Thomas's Friends are not MY friends

And I'll tell you why with the help of some fuzzy pictures of his buddy Terrance the Tractor.



See how nice he looks? He has such a happy face and looks like he would never hurt anyone. Don't be fooled!! He's thinking about how he's going to position himself in the middle of the floor so some unsuspecting adult will step on him and "hahahahahahahahaha." That's what's behind the smile!



See all the knobby spots he has sticking out of him? Those hurt if he gets stepped on. Actually, those will cut a foot even through a sock. I spent two days hobbling around and limping because of that Terrance!
(And yes he is sitting on the bathroom counter now. I can't possibly step on him there.)



That's my foot two days after the incident. I waited until it was no longer bloody to take a picture. :) Also, I should probably watch where I'm walking. It wasn't even late at night and I had my glasses on still.

Where does this sense of humor come from?

Is it an inborn male thing?

Let me explain. My son has always been fascinated with any noises that his body makes. Burps are very funny to him. farts are even funnier. A fart from somewhere near him will result in a comment like, "Was that your pout? Did you pout? Hahahahahahaha" If he happens to be the one with the gas, he is even more amused. He'll ask, "Did you hear that pout? That was me!! That was my pout!! Do you smell my pout?" Sometimes, he just tells me to smell his pout. It's pretty disgusting.

My husband has explained the finer points of pout etiquette to him. If he pouts near a woman, he must say, "Excuse me!" If he passes gas around my husband or one of his friends, it's okay, he can laugh. They probably will.

The last few weeks, he had a problem with his poop. I thought we would never get rid of the diarrhea. I modified his diet. I added an acidopolus supplement. I upped his fiber. It still took ten days or so to go back to normal. This was pretty agonizing since it was the ten days before he supposed to leave for a week at Disney World. I really hoped he wouldn't be sick all the way down there or at the park.

Well, he wasn't. It cleared up about the time I gave up on diet modification. I did cut out dairy for a few days. He was very proud of his first normal poop. We made a big deal out of it. Maybe we shouldn't have. After that, every time he pooped solid, he announced it to everyone around. My mom said that they were at Disney World and he'd be in the stall and she would hear, "Ohhhhhh, it normal! Yay!" I don't know what the other ladies in the bathrooms thought.

Will you be my friend?

My family varies in the ease with which they make friends. Both my sister's are somewhat shy, but I think that one makes more friends easier than the other. I have somewhat close female friends, but even closer male ones. My son has apparently never met a stranger. My mom called the other night and said that he has been talking to everyone at Disney World.

Now, I make friends easily. Actually, my co-workers tease me that every person that comes true our drive thru is my friend. That's not really true. There are a select few that I would consider friends. The rest I probably know as regular customers. There are even some who order the same thing so often that I have it memorized.

Getting back to my son, he really is a friendly little guy. He recently started talking to people in the grocery store. It's really funny because some people in Walmart won't talk to back to him. They just tell him "hi" and move on. Others stop and have entire conversations with him. This is what has been happening at Disney World I guess. Mom said that he had a ten minute conversation with one of the grounds workers outside their cabin. She complimented him on how clearly he talks.

I wonder if this ease with making friends will continue when he starts elementary school? I hope so. I hope he has lots of friends in school. Of course, having taught, I also hope he is not that kid that constantly has to be reminded to be quiet when the teacher or other students are talking!

I was attacked!!

Really! By a small, rubber lizard! I was gathering laundry when it hit me. Here's the character wielding the lizard:

He was swinging it around when he let go and it thwacked me. It kind of hurt.

That's his menacing look above. You can't tell, but he's growling at me.

See how flexible the thing is? It flew through the air really well.

Here's the lizard in it's natural environment:

It's actually Quincy's room, or, his house, as he calls it. Notice all the toys? Oh, and the neatly folded laundry on the bed? Yeah, my husband is responsible for the laundry. I hardly ever fold it.:)

Speaking of my husband, this is what he was doing while I was being attacked:

Some protection he is!

My head may explode!!!

Just went into town, paid bills, and bought some lunch. While we were in the McDonald's drive-thru, I very clearly asked my child if he wanted anything. He told me no. I assumed that meant no.

Fast forward to our return home and he sat down at the table and began to take my food out of my bag. First, he declared that, "This is my food! No, wait, you share your food with me Mommy!" Then, he said, "You give your food to me Mommy!" When he was told no, he asked me to go out and get him some also. Now, we live 20 minutes from town. I refused to drive to the nearest McDonald's. I bought a fish sandwich for lunch. I offered to make him fish. At first, he was reluctant. Now, he is sitting on the couch happily eating shrimp, which I just caught him sharing with the dog.

Once this situation was resolved satisfactorily and he agreed to the shrimp, I walked up to my husband and asked, "If my head explodes, will you clean it up?"

He said, "No. I would just move."

Why are four year olds so difficult?

Bad Daddy?

I wasn't a psychology major. I have tried to read-up on what we can do as parents to make sure Quincy grows into a confident, trusting man. My mom has always been big on making sure they never tell him that he's bad even when he does something that is clearly wrong, like throws rocks at the car. He actually did that here at home, but it is a good example.

I have told my husband to be sure to tell him that he is acting bad or that whatever he is doing is not a good idea or not nice. Anything is fine with me so long as he doesn't get the impression that he is a bad little boy. He is definitely a frustrating, unreasonable, uncooperative child at times, but aren't all four year olds?

You can imagine my horror when I went to take him to my parents the other night while I worked and the first thing he told me when he got in the car was, "I'm bad." I immediately asked who told him that and he said that Daddy did. I kept repeating that Daddy would never say that and he kept telling me otherwise. We went back and forth. Quincy tearfully insisted that he was a "bad little boy" all the way to my parents. It's a 25 minute ride.

My mom promised to keep telling him how good he is while he was there and I went to work. I called my husband as soon as I got there and he denied saying that Quincy was bad. He said that Quincy had done something bad that day (he always has), but that he had not said that he was a bad little boy.

I still don't know where Quincy got this impression. It's not how I want him to feel about himself. We've done our best over the past few days to make sure he feels loved and feels like he does good things. He learned how to peddle his tricycle yesterday and was so proud that he called me at work to tell me about it.

We make sure to tell him when he makes good decisions and to point out bad choices. I guess that pretty much all we can do as parents.

I live with Hannibal Lecter

Seriously.

Last night, while yet again refusing to be agreeable, my child revealed his cannibalistic tendencies. A little background is necessary. I came home from school determined to cook my son a good meal. I gave him a snack of popcorn and then put the chicken in the oven. Before I put the macaroni on to boil, he began wailing for a cherry popsicle. While I waited for the water to boil, he continued his rant.

My husband decided that now was a good time to go run his errands. He apologized before he left.

12 minutes later and the macaroni was done. I mixed in the cheese, stirred the green beans, checked the time on the chicken. Quincy continued with his tirade. I called my sister to see if she had any ideas. Nope. None.

25 minutes in and he kept saying, "I want a cherry popsicle! I need a cherry popsicle!" I tried arguing that he didn't need one. Didn't work. I said, "I want a nice, quiet little boy. Maybe I'll go find one and bring him home? What would you do then?"

"I would eat him," answered my sweet little boy.

There you have it.

(He got the popsicle after he ate his dinner by the way. Yay for me! I said no and stuck with it.)

The Santa Pic

I've had this picture uploaded on my computer for a week, but then Monday happened and there was a dentist's appointment and work. Tuesday was the pinkeye day and another doctor's appointment. Wednesday, we tried to Christmas shop. Anyway, here's the pic:



In case you can't tell, Quincy loved Santa this year. He told him all about what he wanted for Christmas and about the train that they had nearby. And there was no crying or screaming. It was awesome!

However, I can't help but think about the fact that pinkeye has a 3 day incubation period and this picture was taken Saturday. Quincy came down with it on Tuesday. You see my line of thought? Of course, he probably got it from me.:)

Okay, now back to cross stitching, laundry, and making buckeyes!

Gotta be Spontaneous

I got up this morning at 5:15 with my eyes still goopy from the pinkeye I've had for almost a week and switched on the TV. It was supposed to reach freezing sometime around midnight last night and then the rain would switch to freezing rain. Apparently, the weatherman was right.

Schools delayed two hours, said the TV. I called my mom, told her the news, reset the alarm for a one hour later wake up time, and crawled back under the covers. It was still warm. I love my flannel sheets!

8:30. The alarm goes off. I go to wake Quincy for school and he will. not. wake. up. He finally moved after ten minutes and rubbed an eye. Guess what he came down with? Pinkeye!

So, no school for him, no subbing for me. Off we went to the pediatrician's and then to the pharmacy. Drops for him.

It's okay. It's actually a good day to be inside. It's still 37 and raining outdoors.

Quincy's Observations

Driving home tonight, we passed some apartments. Now, we always pass these same apartments, but I normally just say they are buildings that a lot of people live in. Tonight, I said, "Look at those apartments!"

Quincy said, "Do those apartments have stairses?"

Well, yes.

Quincy said, "Do those apartments have a doorman?"

Umm, no.

Then he said, "Do those apartments have a dachshund?"

We watch way too much Curious George.

Stuck, Stuck, Stuck

That title makes me want to scream, "Don't leave me guys, Don't leave me!" Bonus points to anyone who gets that reference.

It's the day after Thanksgiving. Quincy's constant running to the bathroom to poop has stopped, but this morning I realized that he had not peed in a long time. I had to threaten IV, then explain what an IV is, to get him to go pee. Now, I am like a drill sergeant. Every few minutes, I say, "Drink, Quincy, drink." I wonder how long until he starts pooping again?

Under dubious accomplishments for today, I did manage to make a Christmas list for my husband, Quincy, and myself. At least people will know what we want now!

In reference to the title, I am stuck here at the house when I have several things to do outisde the house because Quincy was so sick yesterday. I had planned on taking him with me, but my mom thinks he doesn't need to be out. My husband went to do his stuff, then I get to go do mine. By the time he gets back, it will be time for me to go to work. *sigh*

My baby is 4!!!

4 years ago at 10:53 a.m., roughly 5 hours after arriving at the hospital, my son was born. My sister Sarah was there. She gave him his first bath, which he hated. He screamed and cried. He was tongue-tied and jaundiced. Somehow, we made it through that first year. It's amazing really, because he fell off the bed once. He also tried to climb the high chair and failed. That little fall resulted in a bitten tongue and a freaked out Mommy.

2nd year, I went back to work full-time and Daddy took over child care some days. My sister Sarah was Aunt Rara by this time. There was also "Granmudder." This was the year he spent a lot of time at the doctor's. Quincy had an x-ray around 16 months. Baby's first x-ray. It's not the milestone you'd think. I came home from work and Quincy was napping. My husband casually mentioned that he had cried earlier and then hadn't walked all afternoon and had, instead, opted to take a nap. I woke him up and discovered that he couldn't walk. He just cried. He had a small bruise on the top of his foot where he had attempted to climb the baby gate. The x-ray revealed no fractures. he was walking again in a few days. Around 18 months, he had coxsackie virus. I gave it to him and had no fever. He developed sores all in his mouth and ran 104 degree temperature and above. He pretty much cried for four days. It was horrible. He also went to preschool for the first time two days a week when he was two. It was a good place for him to spread his germs! We still lived in the little house with the yellow bedroom that we brought him home to. That summer, we moved from the little house to the larger house in the country. Quincy gained more room, but he lost his paved driveway. At first, all he talked about was his old house and going back there.


His 3rd year was when I started teaching full-time and was gone a lot and then busy when I was home. He managed to not get sick too much during the last year, which made it easier for me. I hate leaving him when he's sick and he needs his mommy. He did have a nasty cough last winter where he gagged and threw-up at least once a day. That was the worst. This last year saw him getting much more independent. Still, he cries when my husband leaves him at preschool because he "wants Daddy to stay all day too!" That just started recently. Also, this year he became potty-trained. We thought it would never happen, but it did. He stays dry all day, but still sleeps in a pull-up. Sometimes he slips up, but that has gotten more and more rare.

My baby is a big boy today. He tells me that every time I call him a baby. Still, sometimes he wants me to hold him just like I did that first day.