Wednesday, February 25, 2015

$h!tt% Story About My $h!tt% Neighbor

I have to write this down and put it out there.  It's seriously just driving me crazy.  So I'm sorry for the $h!tt% post, I'll be back to my normal, sunshiny self in no time.

So we live in a town house.  A very small town house that has basically no yard.  There is about 3 feet of grass between our steps and the sidewalk, so I guess that is something.

There are lots of dogs in our neighborhood.  There are rules about cleaning up after your dog and in our almost 3 years we have not had much issue with it.  That is until about 4 months ago.  Now, I come home everyday to a new pile of dog $h!t in my tiny little yard.  And it's little dog $h!t.  So I know it's got to be a dog in the small to medium range.

My kids step in it.  My kids ride their bikes through it.  It's disgusting and it has made me hate every neighbor with a certain sized dog.

Also, there is always dog $h!t on the sidewalks.  Like right in the middle of the freaking sidewalk, not off to the side where maybe the dog $h!t and walked, but just squat down right there in every one's freaking way.

We have our suspicions to who the culprits are.

#1 - There is woman who moved in with her son and his family last fall.  She walks her small dog back and forth in front of our town house row about 781 times a day.

#2 - A couple moved in late last fall and have a terrier sized dog and a huge dog.

Clif and I have witnessed both of these suspects not clean up their dog's $h!t.  Not necessarily in our yard, but around.

So yesterday I arrived at home about 20 minutes before the bus was set to arrive, so I ran in the house and did some laundry and had a snack.  While I was in the kitchen my dogs started getting all bajiggity, which they do all the time because other dogs are walking just 3-4 feet from them, on the sidewalk.

As I was telling them to calm down I noticed a movement out the window, so I peeked through the blinds.  The old woman was there with her little dog and the dog was $h!tt!n& on my sidewalk.  The sidewalk that leads to my stairs.  So I watched.

The dog finished.  The woman reached down and grabbed a handful of snow.  She then proceeded to wipe the dog $h!t off of my sidewalk into my yard with the snow in her bare hand.  So I opened the door.

Now, let me say that I think this lady may be crazy.  She mumbles and talks to herself or her dog or someone the entire time she's walking him.  And she will never acknowledge me when I say hello.  Also, she doesn't walk great, so I kind of gave her a pass.  Thought maybe she couldn't bend over very well.  But there she was bending over to wipe the $h!t off my sidewalk!

So again...I opened the door and she looked right at me and there was that moment of realization.  The "Oh $h!t, I've been caught" moment.

I said "Hi."

She said "It's so cold, don't think it will ever warm up." AND WALKED AWAY!!!

Walked away to the end of the sidewalk where she BENT OVER and picked up more snow to clean of her $h!t covered hand.

I was BOILING.  So mad that I couldn't contain myself, so I knew I had to walk away or I was going to be screaming in this old woman's face.

I thought about it all afternoon.  So mad at myself for not saying anything.  Just letting her walk away.  My only hope is now she knows that I know.  Maybe it will change her behavior, but seriously who does this $h!t in the first place?  Probably won't change a thing.

I came home last night from walking my dogs and picking up their $h!t, with a bag, not my a normal human and I saw it.  Those two little pieces of dog $h!t, right there next to my sidewalk with the dog $h!t smear on it.  It was just mocking me.  So I did what any grown adult would do.  I picked it up with my shovel and deposited it in the old woman's yard.

I'm mature and $h!t like that.

Monday, February 23, 2015

Sweetest Thing

Do you remember this guy?

This weekend, Clif added pictures to an old folder on Facebook.  So this was in my feed yesterday.  I told Clif that I thought I might cry, because here he is last week...

And I just got his Kindergarten registration packet.  And he went to his first friend birthday party.  And I put away all his 4T clothes.  And he's just so big.  My little, chubby, love monster is growing up so fast.  I can't believe it.

Freddie will by 5 in about 3 weeks.  Five.  That's such a monumental age.  Everything changes at 5.  They officially become kids at 5.  No more toddler or preschooler references.  Five is big time.  Freddie can't wait to be 5.  He can't wait for Kindergarten.

Freddie rarely gets all my attention.  In fact, if you scroll through my pictures on my phone...there aren't many of him.  At least not by himself.  In my defense, part of that is because he is such a monster and it is rare that he'll sit and take a picture.

So last week, when everything was shut down for snow, and Ainsley was at a neighbor's and Daddy was putting Cohen down for a nap, Freddie and I made cookies.

Have I mentioned my baking prowess?  No?  That's because it doesn't exist.  I'm a terrible baker and I don't really enjoy it.  It's such a mess and then I'm left with all these sugary, bread-y, treats that I shouldn't eat but want to eat and it's just bad.

But when you just have one kid and his sister is making cupcakes at a friend's and he's never baked cookies all by himself with you, well you just suck it up and destroy the kitchen you just cleaned...and mopped, by the way!

Freddie kept asking "Can I add the egg?"  "Can I do the sugar?"  And I kept saying yes, you get to do it all.  He was so excited.  He's never known a life where sharing doesn't exist, where he gets all the things or all the tasks, all to himself.

So he cracked eggs and poured milk and measured sugar.

And ate a lot of cookie dough.  All by himself.

We made peanut butter cookies and pressed Reese's peanut butter hearts into them.  I was low on chocolate chips and we only had heart shaped PB cups.  It's very fitting though.  Freddie is so full of love and emotion.  You don't think that when you meet him.  He can be a little rough around the edges.  But he loves so completely.  He feels all the emotions to the fullest extent.

Plus when you press the chocolate into the hot cookie, it melts, and he definitely melts my heart.  

Side note...this cookie is atrocious!  Terrible baker.

Yesterday while at a birthday party, he had a hard time joining the group.  He wanted me to play with him.  When he finally did participate, he and a bunch of boys were running around with light sabers and pretending to be Jedi.  But every time he caught my eye, he'd stop and blow me a kiss.  Or he'd run back up the stairs and give me a hug.  

He is all heart.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

The Little One

Today I'm home with Cohen.  Apparently he's sick.  He ran a fever all night, but does this look like a sick kid?

It's amazing what Motrin can do.

Now he's screaming "MiMouuu!!" over and over again and bouncing with excitement as he watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  MiMouuu is Mickey Mouse in Cohen speak.

He loves this show.  He spends the entire 20 minutes calling out character names and telling me which ones are wearing hats.  Random the things that kids latch on to.  This one has a thing for hats.

I've written a lot about Ainsley lately.  Probably because she's my oldest and I always seem to worry the most about her.  Everything with her is new, whether it's a fever or learning to read.  With the boys, I guess I just feel like I have already been through it with Ainsley so it will all work out.

But I should probably write about them too.  So today I'll write about the little one with the big personality.

Cohen does not like the word no, unless he's saying it.  And when he says it, right now, it's the cutest thing ever.  But if anyone else tells him no he either ignores it and tries to accomplish the task on his own or throws himself down on the floor in a kicking, screaming tantrum.  Yeah, he's the baby.

He's way more independent than my other two.  That's bittersweet.  I guess it will be nice when he can do things for himself earlier, but it's sad that he won't just be a baby for longer.

He talks like crazy.  I think my favorite is "Me me."  Excuse me.  It took us a while to figure out what he was saying.  He says it softly at first, then when you don't respond he becomes loud and insistent.  Then you move and he goes about his day.

He's the busiest of my kids as well.  Always on the move, always doing something, rarely still.

Everything is on his terms.  He can be the sweetest little snuggler, when he wants.  When he doesn't, he'll scream in your face to back off.

This kid loves to eat.  Anything.  All fruits are "nanas."  All meals are "ninner."  But drinks are different, there's "wadrr," "mik," or "jews."  And no matter what he's eating, he always wants a "bite?" of everyone else's food.

He loves attention.  He loves to show off.  If he does something he thinks is awesome, he tells you about it.  He shows you.

He's smart.  And I know all parents say that about their kids but I'm just always amazed by him.  Maybe because he's the shortest in the house, but sometimes he does and says things that I just can't believe are coming out of that little person.

If we let him, he'll run this house.  He'll put his siblings in their place, no problem.  And the dogs?  Well, there's a love/hate relationship with them.  He loves to feed them.  He loves to give them a dozen treats a day.  He loves to walk them.  He loves to sit on them...okay, not them...Brinkley.  Gatsby trots off any time Cohen comes near.  However, Cohen hates to have the dogs anywhere near his food.  He doesn't want them in the kitchen while he's eating and he will swat at them if he is carrying a snack.  My dogs won't take food off of tables or out of hands, but anything that falls to the floor is fair game.  Cohen is not down with that rule.  If he drops something, he'll scream "buppies NO!" and throw his hand out as he squats down to pick up his snack.

Clif has referred to him as Kim Jong Cohen because he has the makings of a little dictator.

But how could he not.  Everyone does what he says.  Especially Ainsley and Freddie.  They never get mad at him, never blame him.  He is always in the right where they are concerned.  I've tried putting him in timeout and the other two just sit and console him.  Even though he doesn't even seem to care that he's in time out.  I've slapped his hand or his bottom when he's reached for the stove or an outlet, and I get scolded by Ainsley.

They are his protectors, even though I have a feeling he doesn't really need them.  Or at least won't for long.

He laughs at himself.  All. The. Time.  He's his biggest fan.  And he is funny.  He makes the rest of us laugh.

After I had Freddie, so many people said that now we had the perfect family, one girl, one boy.  True, I did have one boy and one girl and they are perfect.  But Cohen is our perfect finish.  Our cherry on top.

Thursday, February 5, 2015


It's a huge cliche in the blogging world.  Writing a lasting and deep message about appreciating the time you have with your kids.  Not letting a moment slip by.  Enjoying those cuddles.  Savoring those messy fingerprints.  Marking each little milestone.  Because they'll all be gone.  They'll grow up and leave and you'll miss those times.

And I hate being cliche, but sometimes the weight of it all just overwhelms me and I have to put it somewhere or I'll burst.  Plus, what else is there to write about?  Vaccines?  Um, no thanks.  You thought there were wars over breast/bottle feeding, CIO or cosleep, WAH/SAH/Working mothers?  Whatever, that's nothing compared to the seething hatred that comes out over vaccinations.  You're not changing my mind, I'm not changing your mind, so I'm just going to leave that one alone.  Pretty sure the second civil war is going to erupt over that topic.

But I digress...

I climb the stairs to find Ainsley in my bed.  I stand there and stare at her for a moment.  This happens.  Probably once a week she makes her way to our room when Freddie falls asleep before her. She still hates to sleep alone.  She is exactly the same baby I brought home 7.5 years ago.

I turn off the light and climb in next to her.  I close my eyes and remember night after night of holding a tiny baby as we both fell asleep.  Night after night of spooning with a toddler, preschooler, then child.  She'll be 8 in July.  There are more nights like this behind me than in front of me.

During the day, we are knocking on the door of the tween/preteen years.  We're not there, but we're kind of on our way.  Sometimes there are tears because she feels wronged.  Sometimes she prefers to pretend she's out with friends than with her parents.  Sometimes there are slammed doors and stomps up the stairs. Sometimes she talks about imaginary boyfriends. Sometimes there are wishes to be an only child or have the life of a friend.  Sometimes I handle these emotions well, sometimes I do not.

But here in the dark, in my bed, she is still my baby.  That sweet little girl with a big heart and huge soul.  A giggle that warms my heart and a smile that lights my world.  She still hugs me every day.  She still calls me mommy...most of the time.  She still likes to cuddle with me when she sleeps.  But I know the days of shrugging off kisses and eye rolls are right around the corner.

So tonight I won't move her back. Tonight I'll smell her little girl hair like I smelled her bald baby head.  Tonight I'll hold her long fingers like I held her pudgy hands.  Tonight I'll lay here and hold her and pretend that she'll be mine forever.

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