The Tooth, The Whole Tooth, and Nothing but the Tooth

This post has nothing to do with religion, elevators, chocolate, road trips, etc. Yeah, yeah—I'll get to that, sure—but right now, it's time to write about the tooth. My son recently turned five. On the morning of his birthday, he nonchalantly mentioned while masticating and sprinkling cereal over the tabletop, in equal amounts, that he had a loose tooth. It clearly wasn't a big deal to him; he knew it would come out and he would leave it under his pillow for the tooth fairy, end of story. For me, it was a little alarming. Isn't this a little...early? The kid's body has been trying to grow up way too fast on me. He's 99^th percentile for his height—he always shocked people when he told them he was four—and now a loose tooth on the MORNING of his fifth birthday? When is the onset of puberty going to be? The morning of his sixth birthday? Then he'll being home his fiancee when he's seven...sheesh. So he's been carefully nursing his loose tooth, and won't allow anyone to touch it, and has been extremely proud of it, and has been contemplating what the tooth fairy will bring him. The other morning I was brushing his teeth, and he stopped to swallow the toothpaste (I can't get him to spit it out to save my life), and...the tooth was gone. He swallowed it. Yup. This worried him. How would the tooth fairy get it now? He was also worried about what was going to happen to the tooth. We told him not to worry: one night while he was fast asleep, the tooth fairy would come into his bedroom and slit open his belly with a blade made from a shark tooth and take the tooth out. No, we did NOT tell him that*. I don't want to pay that therapy bill. No, we just had him write a note to the tooth fairy explaining what happened, and see what she would do. Turns out the tooth fairy is very understanding and doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. She left him a little note and a dollar. *Nor did I tell him that the tooth fairy was a rather demented soul who looked like this. I didn't even tell him that the reason the tooth fairy collects children's teeth is because she craves calcium, and though she'd much rather take your entire skull to munch on—or better yet, your entire skeleton—but she's too small to carry away that much. So she just settles for a tooth. (So many golden opportunities to ruin this child, and I keep passing them up.)

Our Primary Presentation Was Today

Yup. It sure was. This was my son's first time participating. Well, "participating" doesn't seem to be the right word. He did go up. Eventually. After I asked him, "Do you want to walk up, or do you want me to carry you?" (I carried him up there.) And once he was up there, I had to stay nearby to keep him from bolting. He didn't sing. He sat when he was supposed to stand, and stood when he was supposed to sit, and he really really worked on giving the crustiest looks possible while he pouted during the songs. He had one line, something like: "I will follow Jesus because I love Him," which he mumbled as grouchily as he possibly could into the microphone. It was, of course, completely unintelligible. A little bit later, he found that one of his fingernails was coming off (he's a nail picker and can't leave them alone). It just happened to be his middle finger. So he said, as is his habit, "Mom, I got a fingernail goin' on!" and waved his finger in the air to show me--and flipped off the entire congregation. I sneaked a little closer and removed the fingernail. Five minutes and some picking later, he did it again. Same finger, same obscenity. And then it was over. I'm just happy he went up there and participated at all! And I just hope that his participation in today's program made some people's sacrament meeting just a little more entertaining.

Boy Caught with Pants Down, Mother Laughs Earlier this week, a young 4-year-old was attempting to use the toilet when his mother laughed at him. Fortunately, the boy was too groggy to register the fact, and will not be scarred as an adult as a result of the incident. "He had been really sick for a day or two with a fever and bad congestion. When he started crying about an hour after we put him down, we were worried that he was going to hurl or something," the father tells reporters. "I went in to see what was wrong, but he was too loopy from the medication to tell me." At this point, the boy's mother guided him to the bathroom to wipe the snot off his face, and the boy (who had been screaming and howling horribly up to this point), automatically pulled down his pants and used the potty, crying the entire time. "After he was finished, he reached for some toilet paper to...uh, dry the dew from his lily, and it was at that point..." the boy's mother tells us, but she breaks off due to a fit of the giggles. "Well, he was so out of it that he used the same bit of toilet paper to wipe his nose, and then he threw it into the sink instead of the trashcan or toilet," she sputters. "He was very groggy," the boy's father explains, who also laughed at his son. "It is a regrettable incident, of course," the father tells reporters, "and one we hope will never be repeated." "But you should have seen his face," the shameless mother snorts. Thankfully, once the boy had relieved himself, he quieted immediately and went to bed. As for the laughing parents, justice was served by both mother and father catching the same illness. Both are currently miserable, but the boy is feeling much better and not allowing either of them to rest. Mormon Missionaries Mocked Again When LDS missionaries left the church building in Centralia, WA, last Sunday, they were shocked to find that some unknown party had vandalized their car. "You just aren't safe anywhere anymore. If your car isn't safe in a church parking lot, where will it be safe?" one Elder mused. The vandals had used soap to write such phrases as "Just Married" on the back window, "True Love," on the front, and marked the rest of the windows with hearts and flowers. When asked whom the Elders thought had vandalized their car, one Elder said, "Now that is a good question!" They have no idea who the perpetrators may have been. Unfortunately for the missionaries (but rather to the amusement of everyone they passed), they were forced to drive their car home in this condition. Damage was estimated to be at a loss of 15 minutes for cleaning the film off the windows, but the estimated cost of snickers from passerby, priceless. Woman Does NOT Meet Other Woman She Met Online Today Centralia resident Wynne Urien, traveling with her son, returns home from Seattle where they were visiting with family members. "Originally, we were supposed to be up there for four days, but my son got sick, so we didn't go up until yesterday." Urien's plan had been to meet up with a fellow blogger while she was in the Seattle area, but her plans were further complicated by her contraction of the same illness that her son had. (See related story, "Boy Caught with Pants Down, Mother Laughs") "We came home again on Sunday, and I considered dropping by her [the fellow blogger's] home, but decided not to because I didn't have directions, she would probably have been at church at the time, and snot was raining from my nose. I don't think she would have appreciated me dripping on her children." Urien further explains, "Well, she didn't exactly know I was going to be there. The only notice I gave her was an obnoxious comment on a blog posting, and I don't even know that she read it. I should have emailed her," she sighs. When questioned about how she felt about this near miss, the online friend, a Mrs. Carrot Jello, replied, "Frankly, I'm quite relieved. When you make a friend online, you never know what you're going to get: a flatulent bean-eating Texan? A tiny shopaholic sushi addict? And then when you meet them in real life, well...the weird only gets weirder. I mean, have you read her blog? The girl is a complete psycho, and she never explains what a muskadillo is. And how did she get my address, anyway? I think she's stalking me."

Duct Tape Obsession

I have a confession. I'm not so sure how I feel about all of this, and I am sure to horrify SOMEONE out there on the Internet—but, hey, there you are. I can be horrifying. I've been preoccupied with duct tape. Because it works so well. The obsession began when I incorporated it into a parenting strategy without even thinking about it. I had sent the boy to time-out for hitting, and as soon as he was in his corner, he started hitting the walls, the floors, etc. Y'know, just being a mad little turd in general (I should do a sketch of that: "mad lil' turd." Okay: done—see below). And I knew I couldn't allow it. (The hitting, not the sketch.) So I thought for just a second—and maybe I didn't think it through at all—then retrieved the roll of duct tape from the garage, and approached him very calmly. Me: Do you know why I put you on time out? Boy: I hit. Me: That's right. Hitting is not okay. Boy: But I don't stop hitting! I hit and hit if you put me on time out! Me: No, you won't. Because hitting is not okay, and if you can't use your hands wisely and politely, then you won't be allowed to use your hands at all. And then I duct-taped his arms to his body, and reset the timer for more time out. He was furious. He thrashed about, but was unable to free his arms, and unable to squirm out of his shirt (the tape was only attached to his shirt, and if he could have only gotten his arms out, he would've been free!). He was very sad (eventually) and apologized, and hasn't hit a thing since. And since, I can't stop fantasizing about duct tape. Kid too noisy for you? I know something that will fix that. Can't hold still? I know of something that will help! Won't stay in his chair during Sunbeams? Oh, I have the answer! Every time I turn around, I think of another use for the stuff. Why, just today after he pooped in his underwear again, I fantasized about taping him to the toilet seat and letting him stay there all day. It's true that he hasn't hit anyone lately, but I've still managed to create a monster. Me.

Today is Someone's Birthday

...but I don't want to say whose. I mean, some people are really touchy about birthdays. As if being touchy about your age will actually change something? Take the Boy, for example. He made this comment in Sunbeams last week: "I will turn 100 and all my teeth will fall out and I won't know what to do!" Isn't he a little young to be worrying about aging? And, you know, if I was at liberty to say whose birthday it is today, perhaps I would also be able to share with you what this mysterious person's dream cake would look like. A dream cake that I may have made myself. And that doesn't look at all like the amount of work that went into it. No, instead it looks like a big pile of mud. (At least I can say, in my defense, that it was supposed to look like that.) And now, for some reason, I am completely worn out. I can't imagine why, though. Isn't a birthday supposed to be a joyous event, and Fun For All? Maybe. But I would like to say to the makers of the following product: ...may you all rot in hell, you miserable #@!#@!!!! Hope everyone is having a wonderful Sunday. See you in a week when I'm rested again.

Do You Need a Hero?

Every once in awhile, we all need a superhero. But Batman is so hard to get a hold of, Superman's secretary won't return my calls, and Spiderman grosses me out with his snacking habits (insects should NOT be a part of trail mix). For those of you that find themselves in the same bind as I do, I'd like to introduce a new superhero with some very special abilities:

A Deep and Troubling Question

Today I would like to pose a deep and troubling question: As is typical for this time of year, we've been sick. The Boy, the lucky duck, got conjunctivitis in both eyes along with his cold. Ever given eye drops to a toddler? Boy, is it fun! It took a little practice, but I can proudly say that I am an expert at the strategy know as the “toddler straddle.”

Instructions for toddler straddle:

1. Catch child.
2. Put him on his back on the floor. Avoid teeth and flailing limbs.
3. Straddle child by sitting on your heels (so as not to crush the child), and pin his arms under your legs. Pin his head between knees, so he can’t move his head.
4. Pry open one eye with one hand and administer the eye drop with the other. Ignore all screaming, and quell all bucking of legs and lower body with bum.
5. Repeat 3-4 times daily.

Fortunately, a few episodes of this, and he was willing to try and hold still all on his own. To his credit, he did very well. Eyes are now healthy, though he still has a sniffle and a cough. Jasper, now…he’s got leprosy. Well, okay, maybe he doesn’t have leprosy, exactly, but the word fits the bill: open sores, anyone? Apparently he has a common condition amongst cats: an abscess at the base of his tail caused by another cat biting and/or scratching him, the scratch getting infected, the skin healing over the infection, sealing a world of nastiness inside which…well, swelled and filled with fluid and…er…ruptured (gag) right in the vet’s office. I will not attempt to describe the disgusting nature of the sore any longer: Jeff was obsessed with it for some time, and kept saying: “it reminds me of peeling a blood orange, when you start to peel the skin back. It seems like you could just grab the edge of the wound and pull back his skin…” at which point I start screaming, “No! Stop! Disgusting!” and then I vomit on him. The vet cleaned him up and gave him some medicine to take (a wash for the open sore and an antibiotic taken orally), so now he is feeling much better, but he’s walking around the house with an unsightly shaved rump with an open sore on it, he’s been oozing all over everything, and he hates to take his medicine. Unfortunately for him, I’ve had plenty of practice administering medicine to unwilling patients; unfortunately for me, Jasper’s teeth are much sharper than the boy’s, and the boy doesn’t have claws. So what do you think? Who would you rather medicate? ANOTHER NEW POST BELOW (after all, who knows when I'll have the time to come back again? I know I'm killing the posts, but oh well. I must write when I CAN!)

Because Costumes Are Fun

How about some pictures today? I just found out through Melissa's blog about an online costume contest, and I thought--why not? I was meaning to post a bunch of pictures of my son in costume anyway. First up, the Boy as a rap artist: (Yeah, I know I've posted this one before, but I have to do it again. And yes, that is my YW medallion. What else was I gonna do with it? Wear it?) Or if pirates are more your thing, but you're tired of seeing kids dressed up as Captain Jack Sparrow... ...how about this? Ever seen a kid dressed up as a treasure chest yet? I really like this one, though I think the picture would have been better if somehow I'd managed to get him to swing on a vine:

Who knew Tarzan had fat rolls?

And here is one of my very first sewing experiments (I am by no means a seamstress--heavens, no! but I found I could thread a needle and stick in in cloth with a desireable result): Oh, and I can't leave out the cat. Not my wonderful, super cat: Another sewing experiment: I wanted to dress the kid up as Draco Malfoy. Everything worked pretty well except his hair, which, to my dismay, I found would NOT slick back no matter what I put in it: No sewing on this one at all:

Et tu, Brute?

And last, the Boy as a traffic light: And yeah, it does light up. Those are tap-lights in there, so he can turn 'em on and off himself. Best part? NO SEWING. Just a glue gun, felt, and scissors. That's my kind of costume!

Potty Training Pointers

The other day, my son and I were having a discussion about underpants.

Boy: I 4! (He's 3 and a half, actually. Some days he prefers to be 2, other days, 16.) Me: Did you know that when you turn 4, you are no longer allowed to wear diapers? You wear underpants instead. Boy: No! Me: Really, it's true. Ask Taylor. Taylor, how old are you? (We are outside, playing with some of our neighbors.) T: 7. And I don't wear diapers, I wear underpants. Neither does Riah. Ask him. (The boy turns to Riah) Me: Riah, how old are you? R: 5. R's Mom: Do you wear diapers or underpants, Riah? R: Underpants! Me: See? The boy thinks about all of this for a minute, then: I not turn 4. I will turn 20 and wear nuthin' at all!

About a year ago now, I made the first attempt to potty-train my son. I was a fool to try. It did not go well. But I did learn a few things about potty-training, and I thought I would pass them on to you. Just in case you ever have this problem.

GOOD IDEA:

A cushy toilet seat, preferably with something friendly on it: Elmo, for instance.

BAD IDEA:

This.

GOOD IDEA:

Giving a little boy something to aim for to prevent leakage on the floor. My mother-in-law suggested cheerios. Or, you could go the expensive route and get these.

BAD IDEA:

Keeping pirahna in the toilet.

GOOD IDEA :

Keeping a small basket of books and toys within easy reach of the toilet to encourage your little person to stay there, and to have a happy experience. BAD IDEA: Keeping a small basket of firecrackers and matches within easy reach of the toilet. GOOD IDEA: Since wiping is difficult for little hands, sometimes a product like this helps. BAD IDEA: Flypaper. GOOD IDEA: Making it easier to wash hands at the sink: i.e., a step stool, inviting soap, and a hand towel within easy reach. BAD IDEA: If they forget to wash, the medicine cabinet springs open and the Reminder Monkey leaps out, lands on the offender's head, and proceeds to jump up and down, screech, and pull hair.

Some days I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be a mom.

Now *That's* Entertainment

As a mom, I have frequently found myself with a ton of work to do and not being able to get a lick of it done because I'm playing cars with my son. And the ironic thing is that even though there's no place I'd rather be than playing with my kid, I'm BORED OUT OF MY MIND. Moms all come up with different coping strategies: some turn to the telephone, some to the television (hellooo Oprah), some to the computer (I wish I could do this one, but if I am on the computer when the kid is awake, we inevitably end up on sites like this one for hours at a time). I turn to my camera. Unfortunately for my victims. I thought I would post some of my efforts for your entertainment and for my own glorification (after all, it's my blog, and I can do what I want.)

I made the cape for the boy, but he didn't want to wear it. He's not into dress-up. So guess who doesn't get a choice?

Look! I finally found a use for my Young Woman Medallion! This is what I picture every time a person calls their child a "little treasure." A kid shut up in a chest.

No, it wasn't Halloween. I was just bored.

This is me being bored again, and having some hair gel in my hands when the kid crawled by.

Hair gel again, same day.

Jasper has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In this case, I had just taken a ribbon off a box and was thinking it was a shame to throw it away, but I didn't have any use for it. Or did I?

Jasper puts the boy on time out.

The kid seeing what a pole tastes like.

He hates it when I do this to his hair.

And the last two I threw in just because I like them:

My all-time favorite of Jasper.

My son's favorite thing to do at the park.

Wow, was this stupid to try and post. If the pictures and text are screwed up in your browser, I'm really sorry, but I'm done messing with this thing. That'll teach my to try and post a bunch of pictures at once!

Jesus Don't Want ME for a Sunbeam

This is a picture of my kid's little cousin. Aww, isn't she sweet? Yes. Yes, she is. She tells her mother on a regular basis, "I love Jesus! I wanna give him a hug." Nearly every time I open the Ensign, there is yet another happy little warm ‘n’ fuzzy story about tiny children being in love with Jesus, the budding of their sweet little testimonies, and how close they are to their Father in Heaven. Same thing in testimony meeting, talking with other moms about their kids, and it's even all over the blogosphere. So if this phenomenon of children loving their Father in Heaven is so common, why can't I have a little of it? I mean, after all, my own child says these types of things on a regular basis:

“No, no, NO church!”

“No go to church today. It Saturday today.”

“I want to hit Jesus.”

He has also decided that "It's Sunday" = NO. So I get these comments as well: "No bath, Mom! It Sunday." "No breakfasttime. It Sunday."

He found that if he covers up the letter d in God it spells go, so I frequently get to hear this bit of blasphemy: "Go, God, go!"

Last Sunday, while walking into church: "I not a good boy. I a baaad boy." (Of course overheard by everyone around us. And, of course, I have never called him a "bad boy" ever. Where does he get this stuff?)

Jeff and I have thoroughly searched our little boy for his 666-shaped birthmark. Just because we haven’t found it yet doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Note: This picture is actually quite innocent. He was singing "Where Is Thumbkin" and was on the Tall Man verse. Mom is the sicko here for posting the pic.