Nose Pickles

Eli and I are sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for his cream of wheat to finish cooking.  Just now, I looked the window and when I turned back to look at Eli, he was holding out his finger and telling me there was something on it.  I knew exactly what it was.  I asked him where he got it.  He told me in his nose.  Then he went on to say, "Mommy, I got a pickle out of my nose."  I corrected him, no, that was not a pickle, it was a big booger.  But he insisted, a pickle.  This is not our first encounter with boogers in this house, so I was surprised at his confusion.  But with that description, you can imagine the size and color of what was on his finger.  We cleaned it off and moved on.  He told me moments later that he had another yuck on his finger and before I could clean it, he wiped it under our kitchen table.  I thought that wiping boogers was a learned activity, but apparently not.  No one taught Eli to wipe them under our kitchen table.  He just knew to do it.  Ahh, the fall of man.  

Littered with help

The week continues with more of Eli's antics.  He is bent on making messes for me to clean up.  Today, I pardon his attack because I believe it was done with a generous spirit.  He wanted to help me, at least that is what I am choosing to believe.  

Every day when I clean out the litter box, Eli watches and observes.  He usually will offer some kind of commentary, like "good job, Mommy" or "that was a BIG cat poop".  Today, he must have felt that I didn't do an adequate job.   At some point this morning, he snuck into the bathroom and did some poop scooping of his own.  I don't know when there was a minute when we weren't together, but Eli seems to be some kind of magician.  Later, I walked into the bathroom and gasped.  There was litter all over the floor and the scoop still in the box.  I asked Eli if he did this.  "Yes."  Lucky for me, I had already scooped the offending poops this morning or I would have walked into a minefield.  Instead, Eli just used the scooper to shovel the litter out of the box and onto the floor, like a nasty little sandbox.  Sick.

Thanks for the help, son.  I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring, probably he'll find some way to pull the toilet off and throw it down the stairs.  

  

Grape Juices of Wrath

Sometimes there are some subtle indicators that your day will not go well from the minute you wake-up; other times, the indicators are not so subtle.  I have been sleeping very poorly at night because our two cats seem to think a great starting place for their all-night wrestling match should be the very pillow that I am sleeping on.  Even though I curse them and throw them off the bed, they always come back.  The lack of sleep does not improve my morning appearance.  This morning, I decided not to fight against ugliness I saw in the mirror, but to embrace it instead.  Not only would I not be using make-up today, but I would also wear sweats all day (is this any different from any other day, you ask.  No, not really).

While Eli woke up in a very pleasant way this morning, the smiles quickly wore off when we were addressing the breakfast menu.  All suggestions were met with "NO, I want something else!"  I found a force-feed to be the most effective means of nourishment for him.  Then, while I turned my back to wash up our breakfast mess, Eli decided to help himself to the items in the refrigerator.  This usually doesn't amount to anything, but given his new dexterous state, he managed to twist open the grape juice before turning over the container and dumping it's contents all over the floor.  I was less than thrilled.  I've included a video of the aftermath.  

At 1:53 pm, a list of disagreeable things have already happened, in order not to depress you, I will stop my list at the above (and also because this stinking headache is making it hard to think).  Since I am an eternal optimist, I believe things will take a turn for the better and I will likely win the lottery later today (though I have not lately purchased any tickets), and possibly be picked for a national modeling campaign (even in no make-up and sweats).  If either of these events take place, I will post the footage from the local news.  If my day continues in a downward spiral, there might be footage of a local woman who lost her mind and went running naked down the highway until she was arrested and forced to do community service as punishment.  Anything can happen today.    

More than I can bear

I am a bit clumsy. Sometimes it is in my control, sometimes things just happen around me and I get to sort it out. In my control would be running along the sidewalk one day and tripping over a crack and getting laid out on the sidewalk in a most dramatic fashion. I can still see my discman (this was a while ago) sliding away from me on the concrete. Since I had recently watched Rudy, I decided to pick myself up and keep running. By the time I got home, I had blood down well into my sock.

Clumsy is jogging slowly in soccer practice and tripping over a clump of grass, which resulted in a broken ankle.

Here is an example that is not in my control: Today, I sat on the bed in Eli's room and heard a giant BOOM! Let me be clear here, I didn't sit on a mini bed, or a crib, I broke the double bed. Eli asked me about the noise. I told him that what likely happened was the uneven weight distribution that the end of the bed had suddenly sustained. I told him that he should stay calm because a cool head is what works in situations such as this. But what I really thought was that my brute force has just broken a bed. It could have also been that last week I was teaching Eli to run and do flying leaps on this very bed.

Here is how the rest of the scene played out. Lily lifting up the mattress to access the damage. Eli offering to help. Lily realizing that the Ikea slats have slipped from their positions and are now lying precariously half way under the bed. Lily trying to hold the mattress with one arm while using her useless, uncoordinated left hand to untangle and replace the slats while redirecting Eli's "help". Lily giving up and shoving the mattress off the frame and going at it with both uncoordinated hands, while managing to add hundreds of slivers to her dry hands. Lily finally succeeding but needing extra deodorant from sweat that has broken out after the strenuous effort. Eli's congratulating words making his mother feel that maybe she should try to fix something else in the house.

Note: The bed in the picture below is merely a representation of the broken bed effect. If it were the real thing, Eli's room would be depressing and I would have to add that I had a large piece of concrete in the back pocket of my jeans before I sat down (which was unfortunately not the case).