This and that (Preschool Edition)

Having a 3 year old (FunnyKid) and a 9 month old (FunnyBoy) means naptime battles, less sleep than I ever thought I'd be able to survive on and some of the funniest moments. These boys make me laugh every day and while being a full-time parent is the hardest job I'll ever have, I'm so, so lucky to be able to do it.

FunnyKid goes to preschool now, is into playing any sport we buy equipment for and is talking like a champ. The other day, we were trying to find a set of blocks and had found all but one. "Oh, there it is," I said, as I spotted the last block under a dresser. FunnyKid replied, "You have good eyes, Mom." (I say that to him a lot and it was funny to learn that he picked up on one of my expressions. And then scary to think about just how much I need to watch what I say around him...)

While FunnyBoy has his moments of screaming displeasure (usually in the middle of the night), he is generally the happiest kid I've ever met. Strangers in stores comment all the time about his huge jack o'lantern smile (he has two teeth on the bottom and three on the top) and his bright blue eyes. A couple of people have dubbed him with the nickname "Blueberry Eyes" for how blue they are (FunnyKid can never remember the name and calls his brother "Strawberry Eyes.")

FunnyKid is mildly obsessed with ponytails. Before his last haircut, he sometimes asked me to make one on top of his head. When I have one in my hair, he will ask me to turn around so he can see my "poy-tail." Then he says, "I kiss it, Mom?" and gives my ponytail a smooch. Weird, but sweet.

FunnyKid is quite the backseat driver. I get all sorts of orders yelled at me, everything from "Green light, go!" (I've learned not to hit the gas when I hear that since it's not always accurate and never takes the fact that there's traffic in front of us into account) to "Slow down, Mom, that's my house." In fact, the kiddo has gotten kind of possessive lately. We recently got a new car that I drive and the Pretend Husband drives the vehicle I previously had. FunnyKid describes it as "Daddy drive my cah. You drive red cah."

While playing in the driveway a few weeks ago, we heard a tapping noise and discovered a woodpecker high up in a nearby tree. FunnyKid had noticed the noise so I was trying to explain to him what a woodpecker is and what it does. While searching the tree to try to spot what was making the noise, FunnyKid suddenly yelled, "that's a big pecker!" This is me praying he doesn't try to recount the story at school.

We rocked that baby sign language class

FunnyKid and I attended a baby sign language class at our local library yesterday. And while it appeared to be a drop-in-anytime type of class, it was actually in the fifth of six weeks. They felt bad for me and figured I'd have a lot of catching up to do.

Uh, no. Actually, I took a couple of sign language classes in college and even considered continuing my education to become an interpreter. I wanted to go to the class at the library to see what signs people teach their kids and to socialize with the other moms and kids. Plus, I didn't think I would remember as much as I did.

So I became a complete brown noser. When members of the class couldn't get the (Deaf) instructor to understand what they were saying (she read lips), I fingerspelled for her a few times. Then came the moment that I'm sure made the other moms hate me (I hate myself a little for being such a kiss-ass without even meaning to be!)

The instructor wrote on the board that we should each sign a sentence and pointed at me to go first. Since we had just learned a bunch of Thanksgiving signs, I figured we were supposed to incorporate those, so I signed, "My family is going to eat turkey during Thanksgiving dinner at my dad's house." Then the next mom went and she signed, "I cook turkey." The next signed, "This is my son." Oh. Oops.

I think we all know who will be getting the "A" in sign language class!

It turns out I married a 10-year-old (but, apparently, so did my sister)

Ever since the Pretend Husband and I got a Wii, we've used it in moderation. Sometimes we'd play a couple of nights in a row, then it would sit for a few nights. That is, until Kat's lil sis and her husband got one and kat's lil bro-in-law figured out how to go online and play against the PH.

And they haven't stopped playing since. Last weekend, they played for at least four hours straight (I lost track because I finally went to bed), taking a break only when Peyton needed a diaper change while lil bil was on baby duty.

And lil sis and I agree that it's getting a little out of hand... especially the trash talking (or actually, "trash texting.") There are a lot of "F" you's that go back and forth and the latest is that one of them texts or calls the other to tell them to "suck it." (When did I become my husband's mother because I find myself having to tell him to watch his language!)

But the best was lil bil's text message the other night after he got beat by the PH. The text talked about what he did wrong and how he'll win next time and ended with, "i'm so mad i can't sleep. i hope you fall out of the bed tonight."

Well, at least he kept it clean.

Important Work Memo

Note to self: The word "pooch" sounds an awful lot like the word "cootch" so you might want to think twice about yelling at the man at work who just asked you how your cootch is doing in case he really said pooch. I'm just sayin'

For the record, I did think twice and stopped short of describing my last visit to the gynecologist to some random dude. But, seriously, perhaps next time he could just say "dog"?

Delurk yourselves, bitches!

Oh, I don't mean to imply that any of our lovely readers are bitches; it's just that I and my test group have determined that everything is funnier when you add the work "bitches" to it. For example:

Not funny: "We need some more drinks."

Funny: "We need some more drinks, bitches!"

Not funny: "Get out there and mow the lawn, Pretend Husband."

Funny: "Get out there and mow the lawn, bitches!"

Not funny: "My cat died yesterday."

Funny: "My cat died yesterday, bitches!"

OK, maybe not that last one...

Anyway, now that the funny lesson is over, there is a point to this post (this is where you answer, "Don't worry, bitches, we're used to having to skip to the 14th paragraph of your posts to find the point...") Well, I guess yesterday was some sort of de-lurking day where people were encouraged to come out of the darkness and leave comments on the blogs they read.

Yeah, we're a day late (bitches!), but I'd still like to know who's out there. I mean, we apparently have 23 people following the blog (and a couple more who have told me they read it, but they've been known to lie anyway) but we have never gotten close to that many comments. So, tell us a joke, announce your presence, tell us we're funny or share what you had for dinner. It doesn't matter what you say, but make sure you comment. Now, get to it (bitches!)