Summer is making me crazy

Vincenzo’s last day of school was one week ago yesterday.  Since then we have hit the swimming pool, met friends at Red Robin, been to Chuck E. Cheese, caught a kids’ concert/human circus, organized a play date at a water park, remembered speech therapy at the last minute, went to the dentist, sent Vincenzo to his Grammy/Poppy’s, welcomed Kevin’s family to town, went to a birthday party, tested out the neighborhood’s newest babysitters, saw Kevin off on a business trip, shopped with McStreamy and Spawn at a Farmer’s Market, met up with friends for donuts at the park, then hit the swimming pool, met friends at Red Robin, and lather, rinse, repeat

And those are just the scheduled things.  They don’t include walks on the train tracks, painting bird houses, riding bikes in the neighborhood, making bead necklaces, coloring, reading, gardening, making star art, shopping, destroying the living room carpet with blue food dye, etc.  (They also don’t include bathing because it wasn’t on our summer list.)

I have found that the more children I have, the fewer things I want to do.  I am a huge fan of just hanging out at home, which is something I’ve never before been a fan of.  But once summer hit I started going a little crazy (okay, crazy-er) and we are sometimes only home to sleep.

It’s not good.  I took a shower today and went to brush my hair yesterday only to find that my hairbrush was still in the swimming bag.  We went swimming seven days ago.

Leo has not loved being schlepped around so much, as his perfect summer vacation involves a swaddle, a binky, and his own crib.  The baby who never cries—well, he’s cried a bit lately.

But I can’t let up on the gas just yet.  We haven’t ridden the bus!  Or hit the kangaroo farm!  Or toured the waste treatment plant!  These are seriously things on our to-do list! 

I don’t have any tidy way to wrap this up.  Just wanted to let y’all know why I’ve been a little absent here lately.

Owl child

I ordered this sweet owl hat for baby Leo off of Etsy when I found out I was having a boy:

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I ordered it in size “newborn” but unfortunately whoever made it must have meant it was for newborn gorillas or something because the hat fits my older boys.  I’m bummed out that I won’t get pictures of my little baby in the sweet hat, but on the other hand…

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I think I like these ones even better.  😉

MrsMouthy Waxes Poetic

This is not a vampire flashing a gang sign.

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It’s a kindergartener flashing a “k” on his last day of school for the year.

From this…

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To this…

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In nine months flat.

I used to write a poem every day in a spiral notebook titled “Really Bad Poems.”  It’s been awhile, but I thought I’d give it a go.  Here’s my poem to you, Vincenzo, my kindergarten grad.

KAY (by Mom)

Let’s toast to a year
of goodbye kisses
and bus stop hugs
To A’s saying “ah”
and potato bugs

Adieu, Superhero recesses
and Girls Chase Boys
or Boys Chase Girls
if that’s your thing

Cheers to you, Itsy Bitsy
going up it again
and the old woman
who swallowed that fly
Oh my

Goodbye, first crush
Her name was Pokemon
(though she’s hardly gone)

A toast to you, Kindergarten
to all those lost teeth
and that one winter coat
To the knees of his jeans
he lost those too
You can keep them all–
He’s moving on
my Little Boy Blue

Here’s to you number one!
The letter kay
is so yesterday

This Morning

I’m always telling my kids not to tattle, but I just needed to get this out. ROCCO IS BEING A JERK.

I was woken up at 6:30 by an underwear-clad Rocco saying, “Can you go outside to play with me?”  With a baby and boy still sleeping and myself just barely awake, I had to tell him we’d go out later.  He yelled at me.

He asked for Kix for breakfast.  As I was getting him a bowl he asked if I could play cars with him and when I explained I was getting the breakfast he asked for so I’d have to play later, he yelled at me.

As soon as Rocco sat down at the table and saw his bowl of Kix, he asked for a waffle.  I told him he had to eat his Kix first and yup, he yelled at me.

I nursed Leo to the tune of “I HAVE TO GO TO THE BAFROOM!  I HAVE TO GO TO THE BAFROOM!  I HAVE TO GO TO THE BAFROOM!”  Rocco wanted my help.  As soon as I finished nursing, I helped Rocco and he yelled at me for helping him.

He wanted me to read a book to him so I read for half an hour until it was time to change clothes and go to the bus stop.  I got yelled at for being done reading.

When I changed Leo’s diaper the boys got in a fight over a toy, so the few minutes I had to actually interact with the baby were stifled by the sounds of yelling and feet-stamping until I was able to break it up.

On the way to the bus stop Rocco realized he left his train book at home and had a temper tantrum and I had to carry him up the super steep hill while also pushing the stroller (Vincenzo helped a little, but he’s kind of a wimp.)

After the bus came Rocco picked up a green pine cone and got his hands covered in sap, then wanted to hold my hand on the way back home so we both were covered in sap.  He yelled at me when I said we needed to wash up.

Leo needed to be rocked to sleep but he couldn’t fall asleep because Rocco started yelling from the other room, “OPE THE PLAY DOUGH!” over and over again, practicing with various tones of voice such as mad, pissed, raging, self-righteous, despairing, and hateful.

I spent the next two hours building puzzles with him, playing trains, and helping him bake a cake.  He only yelled a little during most of that.

As I type this Rocco back to eating his Kix and asking for waffles, as well as asking me to sing the mountain song over and over again and asking if I’ll go downstairs to play with him.

He turns three in a month.  I am sooooo hoping that he’ll put these twos behind him!

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Father’s Day

K: I know what I want for Father’s Day.  I want sugar cookies that spell “DAD.”
Me: You want sugar cookies for Father’s Day?  Really?
K: Yes.  I want seven sugar cookies that spell “DAD.”
Me: Wait—you want me to spell “DAD” using seven cookies?
K: No.  I want seven DADs.
Me: So, like, fourteen DS and seven As?
K: Yes. 
Me: Okaaaayyyy…
K: And the cookies should have poppy seeds.
Me: Poppy seeds?  Why?
K: It’s what I want.
Me: What is this for?  Work?
K: It’s what I want for Father’s Day.
Me, spying a magazine on the back of the toilet: Kevin?  Have you been reading my Martha Stewart magazine?
K: Maybe.

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K: So I want those cookies.  Oh, and also a BJ.* 

Me being a dutiful wife and all, I gave him exactly what he asked for.

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Note to Kevin: NEVER ask for a BJ on Father’s Day again, as the gifts are supposed to come from your children.  Totally inappropriate.

*Hi Mom.  Just wanted to clarify that  BJ stands for Blueberry Jell-o.