One for the books....

All right people. It was a white Christmas in Texas. Yup. I just typed that sentence and it's true. Oh- your don't believe me? Ok- fine- here- proof!

That's Gage throwing a snowball at me. Would've been cute had Dad caught this moment with both of us in the act, but he was doing this:

Apparently he's recovering from staying up until 2:30 on Christmas Eve helping Santa create this:

 

That would be our dining room transformed into a preschool room for our sweet little man! :) More pictures and details to come about the creation of this preschool wonderland and the incredible adventures that await us here. (Not to mention a few samples of the artwork that my little van Gogh will soon create at the little white table.....)

This Christmas was one of the best I've had in a very long time!  I saw almost all of my family, got some great smiles and hugs in return for "just what Gage wished for!" and actually got to bake and cook a little! :)

I am beyond thankful for this beautiful blessing called family that God has given to me! 

Even more thankful for the blessing of his Son and the gift of LIFE!

Silly Goose.....????

Ok, why do people say "Silly goose"? It's one of Gage's favorite sayings lately.

"Gage! Time for dinner!"
"Oh, Mama! You silly goose!"  Huh???
"Gage, do you need to go potty?"
"Oh, Mama! You silly goose!"   Ehh???

Now- why?!?! What is silly about a goose?  It's yucky feathers? Funky beak? Beady little eyes? Webbed feet? I'd say "Freaky Goose".  Birds of all kinds creep me out though.  Here's one of the lowest points in my parenting, but it's funny, and I'm fairly certain CPS isnt' reading this.... :)

While visiting my dad and step-mom we stopped by a little creek that runs through town. (Cibolo Creek)  There are tons of turtles, fish, trees, and these giant duck things. (Yes, duck things- they were not the cute little fluffy yellow things I see in my head when I think "duck"). They were GIANT yucky, dirty, loud things.... and they scared me. Gage was about 18 months old or so and we had taken bread to feed the yucky feathered things.  They knew it too.  They'd come running, but stop short. So what do I do? We're walking along the creek and every time we come close to a feathered beast, I take a step further away from it and push Gage a little closer. He was my little human barrier between me and the beasts.  He wasn't scared of them. He loved them. I was doing him a favor. Don't judge.  Had he been afraid of them, we would have just gotten in the car and kept going, but he wasn't- I was. My dad was walking behind us, laughing at me!  Thinking back- it must have looked pretty hilarious. 

My brave boy protected me from the feathered beasts and for that, I'm eternally grateful! :)

Ok- now seriously- why "silly goose"?

Really?? Seriously??? Worst. Day. Ever.

Ok- so what you are about to read is somewhat unbelievable. But the facts are the facts, and I haven't even changed the names to protect the innocent (or ignorant...me!)

We go to take Gage to the doctor this morning and I realize that my darling husband still has the carseat from the trip to ICE last night. Doh! So I bring out the old one that is too tight and cram Gage into to ride around the corner and get the good one from William at work. We get there, and he doesn't want to get out of the old one. Afterall, it's the "bestest one!"  Thank goodness Dad convinced him to move.

We get to McDonald's to get breakfast (I'm STARVED!) and I am about to order when I go to grab my wallet- it's at home. In the bag we took to ICE last night. UGH! No cash, no debit card, nothing.  Luckily, I scrounge up $2 in dimes from the bottom of my purse (good thing I never clean that thing out!) and we got 2 plain biscuts and 2 small waters.  Breakfast of prisoners, bread and water. Perfect.

Get to the doctor- still no card. Can't pay for the visit. Ugh,

Take Gage to school. I'm dropping him off when the teacher asks if I washed his pillow and blanket for nap over the break. I did. And it's still at home. *sigh* It's ok, they have extras he can borrow one for today.  Out the door and on to work.

Get to work. I go to throw my make-up on in the parking lot (yup- everyone I encountered before 10:30 am, saw a scary scary sight!).  My make-up is in Gage's backpack. With Gage. At school.  Oh well- I resolve myself to just not have make-up today. I go to grab my work laptop bag and it's not there. It's in the floor in my bedroom. Of course.

Back home to get the computer. I can't do ANYTHING without my laptop. Grab Gage's pillow and blanket while I'm there and take it to him (and get my make-up while I'm there).  Throw make-up on and I'm FINALLY ready for work. *Phew* Talk about a crazy morning!!!!

Novel Part 2

More short stories about my funny man from the end of the week.... (or some time in the last few weeks anyway....)

Thanksgiving in Granbury. PawPaw carries the giant, beautiful turkey to the table. Gage watches with a confused look.  "Ummmm, Mama, that's one BIG snail!!" SNAIL?!?!? He thought the roasted turkey was a giant snail. Nice.  It took me a good 30 minutes and 3 other people's input to convince him that it was, indeed, a turkey. Not that that made him taste it.... Happy Thanksgiving, he's eating a peanut butter sandwich and raisins. Delicious.

Last night William was cooking dinner while Gage and I watched TV (doesn't that make William sound really good and me sound really crappy? Oh well, such is life.)  I went in to check and see if I could help (and also to see if William would do that pick you up and pop your back thing- ok, fine! I went to have him pop my back and covered it by asking if he needed help first, shut up. :)) So he picks me up and no luck. Before going back to the couch with Gage, I gave William a kiss. Gage yells from the couch "Awwwww, Daddy that's so niiiiiice!"  Hahahaha!

Snot Happens.  Gage's nose has broken valve or something. I looked at him the other day and his lip was COVERED in snot. I grossed out a bit and said "OH Gage, let's go get you a kleenex." He very, cooly and calmly replied, "No thanks, Mom. I'm just lickin' it." EWWWWWWW! 

I've been telling Gage about Santa (who he either calls Santa, or Christmas Claus.... weird.)  and about how he should be good so that he can get presents.  I told him he better be nice or Santa won't bring him a certain toy he wants and he says "It's ok Mom, then we just go get it for ourselves."  I should have started this conversation with him before he got smarter than me. Doh.

Good Thing....

Ok, I just have to start this off by saying it's a good thing I don't stay home with this kid all the time or I'd have to start a novel for all the hilarity that spills from his being. :) 

That being said, here are a few shorties from my shorty. (Please don't read that in the gansta way.... ew).

First of all, he thinks Daddy wants a Barbie for Christmas. Yup, I'm sure that's exactly what Daddy wants is a barbie.  Today I asked him again and now he thinks that Daddy would like a submarine. I checked with Daddy, and he said as long as it has internet access, a submarine is just fine! :)

Second- I've been teaching him the REAL meaning of Christmas and I think it might be backfiring.  I've explained to him that it's the day Jesus was born and the whole world throws a giant birthday party for Jesus, but we get the gifts just like we get Jesus' love.  Ok- I'm afraid that he is now under the impression that at all birthday parties, the gifts will be for him.... dun dun dun. We'll see.

We were at my brother's house for my mom's birthday Saturday and my gigantor cousin that Gage has never seen before comes in.  After playing a little bit, he does the "Give me five, OH you're too slow..." gimmick and taps Gage on the cheek.  Gage says, with hands on hips, "We don't hit." with his calmest, sternest voice.  Funny to see a 6'4, 280 lb man put in his place by a 3 year old. There were no words.... just laughter. :)

He got to play rough with Uncle Jacob and was just in heaven. That night when I put him down he said "Mama, I like playing with Uncle Jacob. He doesn't get hurt like you do." Touche kid, touche.

Ohhhhhh Orcas and Poop....

Gage has been in sort of a cry-baby mood. His allergies are bad and he just doesn't feel quite right. Well, I had told him to stop splashing or he was going to get out of the tub. One giant splash later, I've unplugged the tub and he's VERY upset! Kicking, screaming, red in the face tantrum upset. Daddy gets him out of the tub and wraps him up. Luckily for Gage, he has the most patient, loving, understanding Daddy God ever made.  William gets the tantrum under control (quite impressively) and starts talking to him about WHY he had to get out. Here's the conversation:
William: "Baby, do you know why you had to get out of the tub?"
Gage: "I WANT my bath, Daddy!!!"
William: "I know. I'm sorry. But why did we have to get out? Remember Mama asked you to stop doing something?"
Gage: "Splashing. :( "
William: "Right, Baby. You were splashing after Mama said to stop. It could mess up the house if you splash too much."
Gage: "But Daddy, *chin quiver, heart-broken sobs* I was just trying to splash to scare the Orcas away!*sob sob sob*"

AWWWW! He was trying to scare the orcas away in his bath.  I don't know what the bigger bummer is, that he had to abandon the bath or that the orcas were chasing him in the tub. :)



Be warned. If you are queasy about poop, don't read this part. :) But it's funny.

Gage has gone back to the pooping every 3 days thing. *sigh* And tonight was poop night. He finally poops and William turns the fan on. Gage gets mad because he hates noisy stuff (ironic, I think....). He says "Daddy, I can't hear when you do that!! Turn it off!"
William says "No Baby, this will get the stink away."
Gage "BUT DADDY I NEEEEEED THE STINK!"
Nice.
Ok- so he poops and then he just pushes forever.  Well, he's pushing and toots. He gets an excited surprised look and looks in the potty and says "Nope. Nothing."  HAHAHA! He thought he'd pooped and it was just a toot. hahahaha! "Mama, dat was just a toot. Nothing else."

How much does it cost....?

So when Gage was about 2, anytime he would ask me for something I would tell him "Sure, but it's going to cost you....." He'd ask "How much?" and I would tell him "One Kiss." Unless it was something spectacularly difficult, then it might cost one kiss AND one hug. :)  As he got older, all I would have to say was "Ok, but it's going to cost..." and he'd say "ONE KISS!" and give me a kiss.

Sunday night we all went to the grocery store together (a rare occurance...) and as we were standing in line I asked Gage how much he thought our entire basket full of groceries would cost, expecting him to say "A dollar" or something toddlerish like that. You've guessed it already, I'm sure. He answers, quite nonchalantly, "One Kiss." and kisses my cheek. HAHAHA! 

Normal?! Seriously?

Lately Gage has gotten really bad about arguing, growling, yelling, snatching, being ugly and doing this horrible fake cry any time we get onto him. He's spent lots of quality time with timeout and most of the time that helps.  It's been a lot worse since he started school, mostly because he sees all the other kids do it at school and then wants to try it out at home. Nice.  It's driving me nuts. Today I asked his teachers if they've notice him being, for lack of a better word, a turd in general. They said that he's no worse than the other kids and, in fact, he will be the first to give a toy back after snatching it away and even apologize without being told to. Well- I guess that's good.  I miss him all day long and then when we get home he's such a little stinker that I get frustrated with him. I just want to be with him and not be frustrated with how he's acting. *sigh*  I guess we just keep it up with Timeout and pray that he gets over this phase soon. I might ship him to Timbuktu if he doesn't quit soon. :)

Definition of "Mom"

OK- so I posted a picture on Facebook of this perfect grilled cheese sandwich cut into triangles. Here's why....

When I was a kid, I thought that being a mom meant you could make perfect grilled cheese sandwiches and you'd ALWAYS use the spatula to smush them real flat and then cut them into triangles. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't cook. No, not even grilled cheeses.  I ALWAYS burn the first one. I've been making them since I was like 12 and EVERY time I burn the first one. Not on purpose. I try not to. It just always happens. To the trash it goes and grilled cheese #2 is usually pretty good. I put Gage down for his nap today and decided I would like a grilled cheese for lunch.  I got my 4 pieces of bread out (remember, 2 of them will be going in the trash....) and started buttering.  Much to my surprise- I DIDN'T BURN IT! I did it perfectly. PERFECTLY, people!!!! I took it out of the pan. Smushed it with the spatula and cut it into triangles. I stood there and looked at it, feeling ever so proud. :)  I'M A MOM!!! ....Now if my son only ate grilled cheese sandwiches...  Maybe someday he will. :)

Fevers and Big Bellies

Here's the scoop on the Carlson Infirmary:
Friday we get tested for flu and it comes back negative. Friday afternoon brings febrile seizure for Gage. Saturday the fever is finally manageable, but he pukes. Sunday he seems much better, but I'm starting to feel bad. Monday I feel AWFUL- high fever with no relief! William stayed home to take care of Gage who's fever came back. Tuesday- I'm feeling better with a lower temperature, but this cough is driving me crazy! Gage seems to have gotten a sinus infection and maybe an ear infection. His fever is getting higher and his cough is yucky too!  He's going back to the Dr at 1:45 and I'm just toughing it out.  A couple more days and I think this will all be a distant nightmare. *Phew* That's an extremely abbreviated version of an extremely long tedious situation. Blah.

But here's the funny story. This morning Gage lifts his shirt and says "Mama, look at my big belly." I said "Yup, that is a big belly" and rubbed it for good luck. :)  He says "It has a baby in it!" Then proceeds to open his mouth as big as it will go and pretend to pull something out of it. "Here Mama, you hold the baby now." HAHAHA! He pulled the imaginary baby out of his mouth so I could hold it for him. He is too funny!

Gage's First Date

So- Tuesday nights are date night for William and I.  Aunt Goo (also known as Amanda) comes and watched him most date nights for a few hours and puts him to bed for us.  (She's so good to us!)  Tonight Aunt Goo came over and I went to tell Gage goodbye. I told him "Daddy and I are going to go on a date. I'll see you in the morning."  He says "Can I go on a date?....With Aunt Goo?.....Can I follow you?" HAHAHAHA!  So I told him to go ask Goo for a date and, boy, did he.  He says "Aunt Goo, would you go on a date with me. A picnic in the living room?"  So they spread out the picnic blanket in the living room floor and had a post-dinner snack of yogurt covered pretzels and fruit snacks.  We're leaving and he says "Have a good date Mama and Daddy!" haaha "You too kiddo!"  When we got home Amanda said that he was saying "I like dates. Can I go on a date with Mama? I love dates Aunt Goo." :):):)  He's the cutest thing ever!  Our date consisted of a trip to JoAnn's to get the fabric for the ghost costume and then to Wal-green's to pick up some pictures. Yes, we're working on the excitement level of our dates. ha! :) 

Halloween.... Hmmmm.....

First of all, I hate Halloween.  I don't like dead things, blood and gore, spiders, spider webs, being scared, etc.  I just mostly hate all of those creepy things.  Now that I'm a mom, I'm not too fond of the idea of loads and loads of candy that I have to keep out of sight so that my child doesn't turn into psycho sugar high child (yes, I know they say sugar doesn't cause them to be hyper, but it doesn't cause good behavior and healthy teeth either....).  He's going to be begging and whining about it for weeks, I know already!  *sigh* A good chance for me to practice my stick-to-it-iveness, I guess. 

Anyway, I had this great idea to have Gage be Max from Where the Wild Things Are. He LOVES that book and it's very HIM. :)  He's definitely the king of the wild things.  SO my mom and I have been trying to figure out how we are going to do this costume for him for the last few weeks. The other day he comes home from school and says "Mama, I HAVE to be a ghost for Halloween so I can say BOO!"  Hmmm.... I can fix this. "But Honey, you're going to be Max from this book *get book, show picture*"  He says "NO! I HAVE to be a ghost, please. So I can say BOO!"  Now, every time he says "BOO!" he thrusts his hands out in front of him like he's casting a spell or something. It's cute, I'll give him that.  Long, repetitive, story short, he's going to be a ghost.  But I should be thankful for the milestone this marks. He's old enough to choose what he wants to be all by himself, and strong enough to convince me to go along.  So now the trouble is, how will I make a ghost costume so that the world will still be able to see that precious little face.  I know I could get a sheet and cut holes in it and call it good, but I really want people to see his cute face.  I'm thinking something hood-like. :) 

We're taking him to the pumpkin patch Saturday. I'm excited. PawPaw is even going to go with us this year! Gage is thrilled! :)  I can't wait to take the camera and get some cute pumpkin pictures :)  I hate Halloween, but I LOVE pumpkins and scarecrows and hay bales and decorative gourds! Whoo-hoo pumpkin patch!!

The Hardest, Most Rewarding Part

First, an introduction is in order.  I’m Boogie’s Dad, William.  I managed to convince Boogie’s Mom that I also had some Gage stories to share.  So, I hope you all enjoy my different perspective on the munchkin’s life as well.  There, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…

I’ve discovered that, with parenting, the most rewarding parts are always the hardest.  Tonight was my late night home from work; so I strolled in the door at six.  That left the question of, “What’s for dinner?”  “I don’t care, what do you want?” etc.  After we solved that endless, daily debate we took a short drive around the corner to Chick-fil-a as a family.  It wasn’t until the short drive home that I saw the little head in the rear view mirror starting to do the bobble.  You know the one I’m talking about, the “I’m not tired daddy,” but I can’t hold my eyes open and stop drooling head bobble.  Gage was beyond tired, and we were looking at a ripe hour of about 7:15.  Early I know, but close to normal bedtime for my little rug rat.

We made it home, I unloaded the sack of potatoes from his car seat and carried him in.  What is it about walking in the house that is like an instant espresso shot for toddlers?  Naturally, Gage wakes up immediately and inconsolably wants his fruit cup and waffle fries from “the Chick-fil-a store.”  Little did he know that’s he’s still too tired to decide on much of anything; so none of the fries are big enough for him to eat, but he insists on Sarah finding “a big one.”  We’re talking Mission Impossible here folks.  The parental dictatorship finally decides that nothing good can come of any further whining from the toddler section; so we start the bed time assembly process. So we thought, here is where the civil war started.  He didn’t fight fair, alligator tears and silent sobs.

Bless his little heart, he was so tired he couldn’t tell up from down.  He just wanted a french fry.  (That’s what he thought, but I knew none of them were “big enough”.  Remember, I’d been through this already.)  Mom and Dad tried to soothe him to no avail.  So Dad had to channel his inner calm and take Gage to the rocker and sit out the tears and convince Gage that he was okay.

Now what parent wants to sit and watch their child cry?  I don’t mean leave their child to throw a hissy fit in the floor, I mean truly sit and hold their child while they cry alligator tears of true heartbreak.  What Parent?  None.  Now I know Gage wasn’t really heartbroken, but I’m twenty-eight.  In Gage’s three year-old mind he was heartbroken, and I knew that the best thing that I could do for him was to sit there with him and just be close to him.  So Dad got to watch his son’s little heart break, help him pick up the pieces, cobble them back together, and then move on just like normal with a night-time routine.  Don’t forget, this was all over a waffle fry that he didn’t get to eat, and wouldn’t have eaten anyway because it wasn’t big enough…

However, it’s these hardest times as a parent that are the most rewarding.  Sarah and I usually alternate reading bedtime stories to Gage, and tonight was Sarah’s turn.  However, due to Gage’s broken heart, he was given a choice.  Now, you have to understand, that Gage tends to favor his mother, especially when Dad forces him to do anything, that includes calming down.  But somehow tonight was my night.  When Gage was asked who he wanted stories from, he laid his little soggy head on my shoulder and said, “You Daddy, not Mama tonight.”

I miss my two year old....

  This is a picture from September 20th of last year.  A year ago.  I thought he was so grown up then.  Now I miss the baby that he really was. How is it that as we go along, I think "He's all grown up now. He's a big boy. No more baby."  but then I look back a pictures and think, "He was such a baby and I thought he was so grown up." Why can't I appreciate his baby-ness in each phase instead of thinking it's over, only to miss it later.  *sigh*  That's being a parent I guess.  He's such a cool kid and has always seemed all grown up, but I know in reality he'll always be my baby. *tear*

Thief!

I'm signing Gage out of school today, watching him play while he doesn't know I'm watching.  At first, he was pointing to all the letters in the kids' names on their star chart on the wall. I was so proud.  Then he reached over this bigger kids shoulder and SNATCHES his stuffed alligator. I watch for a moment, thinking what a FART!  Then he plays keep away and when the kid goes to grab it, he throws it under the table. The moment I saw him throw it, I said very quietly and VERY sternly "Gage Ryan- you give that back right now!"  He freezes and then the chin quivers, the eyes well up and he's crying without making a sound.  He grabs the alligator and gives it back to the boy and I can see his hands are shaking.  OK- I wasn't going for complete terror. I was just trying to let him know that someone saw him even though he thought no one was watching.  I feel bad, but that was NOT ok. I'm not backing down now.  He hands it back and says he's sorry.  His teachers think I've embarrassed him, but this is how he reacts when he knows that what he did was wrong.  He doesn't do things like that very often, but he's broken hearted when gets caught.  He cried all the way home, saying "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. It's not nice to take other people's things. I'm so sorry Mama."  Tears and snot are everywhere and I think he learned a lesson. We came in to Daddy sitting in the chair (he was home with a migraine today) and Gage tells him "I taked the alligator! I'm sorry!"  The sobbing begins again.  Long talk about taking care of other people and respecting their things, and he's all better now.  *sigh* Growing a kid is hard. Growing up a kid is even harder.

"Mama, I don't like ghosts."

Gage has been putting his hand under his blankets and saying "Look Mom, a ghost hand. OoooOOooooo" for a few days. He thinks it's hilarious.  Friday he told me, "Ummm, Mom. I DON'T like ghosts. They're a little bit scary." I think all this Halloween junk is getting to him.  We were in Albertson's the other day and they have this little cave area all decked out and dark with all the spooky, move/scream/grab you-when you walk-by decorations.  I was carrying him and went to take him in there to see it all (there, specifically, was a cat I was headed for that looked more cute than scary) and he grabs both my shoulders with a panicked look and says "NO! MOM- Don't go IN there!!!!"  He just wanted to stand outside it, in the safety of the flourescent lighting, and survey all the room contained. Going IN, may mean STAYING in, and that's far too frightening to think about.... for a 3 year old.  It's ok, I'm not a big fan of Halloween either. I say we skip it and go straight for the pecan pie and casseroles Thanksgiving has to offer.

Who is God.....?

Gage sang his blessing last night before dinner, which, just in case you're wondering goes "Thank you GOD for this FOOOOOOOOOD, many many blessings, we'll make new friends, here comes fall, here comes fall, AMEN!"  Random, but very sweet, and I'm sure God smiles as big as I do when he hears it. :)  But after his blessing, he looks up and says "Mom, WHO IS God?"  Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm......

My brain goes "SERIOUSLY?!?!" How on earth do I describe who God is to a three year old without confusing the tar out of him?  So here's my answer- tell me how I did-

"Well, Baby, God is who made us and who gives us all the wonderful things we have in our lives. He's the one we thank for everything good we have."  And then I hold my breath and HOPE AND PRAY that's a good enough answer for him... He says "Oh, ok."  *PHEW*

Then this afternoon (oooh it's twofer) my mom calls and tells me that Gage is pretending to be the big bad wolf. He says "I'm going to blow your house down!" My mom, probably distracted by the 8 month old she's also watching, says "Ok." Gage is not happy about this. He says "NO! Don't say ok!! Say BUMMER DUDE!!!" :) Hahaha!

Multple Posts a Day?!?!

OK- I can already tell, it's a good thing I don't stay home with this kiddo full time. I'd be constantly updating this thing. Sorry- but I just can't resist this story, and I don't want to forget how it went....

We're pretending to give each other presents. Gage gave me a pretend book because he "knew I would loooove it" and I gave him a pretend kitten like Mo (my sister's cat that is mostly black).  He took the pretend cat, held it up to his face and pretend petted it and then set it down. He said "Moey is going to watch me do my puzzles. I won't step on him. Be careful Mama not to step on him too. He will get black all over you if you step on him."  HAHAHA! I just envisioned a cat that had solid black guts.

Two turns later I decided that his gift was going to be a frog. I open my hands and said "It's a...... FROG" and he turned around and ran to the recliner screaming "AAAAAAAAAAAAA- I don't WANT it! I don't like frogs."  He calmly walks back over and says, "Try again, Mom." We've been playing this pretend present game for an hour now and it's cracking me up! Maybe this is how we should do Christmas this year.  If you get an empty box in the mail, you know who it's from. :) Call me and I'll tell you what's in it! :)

The last one didn't count.....

Here's the Official "Gage Story" for the day....

This morning after Gage said he was done with breakfast, I asked him "Gage, did you even taste your waffle?" As he is dutifully carrying his plate to the sink, he says, without even so much as looking in my direction "No, Mama, because I'm a stinker."  Nice.

A normal day here is.... well, not quite normal!

To fully appreciate the life we lead, let's recap the last, oh, 18 hours in the Carlson House.

4 pm- William gets off work (HOORAY for early days!) and comes home, knowing he is about to turn around and go set-up his mom's computers in Granbury.  Before he goes, I request that he take Gage potty in attempts to get him to poop (a much dreaded task to the busy boy). We've just watched Dinosaur Train about dinosaurs pooping 7 times in a row, so I'm thinking that this task might be a little easier than usual. Doesn't every 3 year old boy want to be like a dinosaur? (BTW- Did you know that fossilized dinosaur poop is called "coprolite"? Now you do!)

4:45 pm- The child poops. Hooray.  His cranky pre-poop attitude will now take a hike, for another 3 days or so. Well, as soon as his disappointment about the fact that it wouldn't go down the toilet subsides.  Dad handles that issue....

5:00 pm- Daddy hits the road and it's back to me and Gage on our own. We're about to head out for a chick-fil-a adventure, the likes of which have never been seen, when I remember that we recently sold our electric lawn-mower on the district's craigslist type bulletin board and she's coming to get it at 6.  Hmmm.... scratch chick-fil-a. What might we have to eat in this house, that I don't have to cook of course. I don't cook, I burn.

6:00 pm- Still haven't found anything suitable to eat when lawn-mower lady arrives. (I know she has a name, but I can't for the life of me remember it).  I leave boogeyman inside watching Diego while I step out on the front porch to show her how it works and collect payment.  Perfect. She needs change. We don't keep cash in this house. We use our debit card. Never cash. I don't have change. I ask her if I can take her change and the cord, which I also couldn't put my finger on at the moment, the next day (which is today- I hope I don't forget!).  I re-enter the house to hear "Ummm... Mama, I teeteed in my underwear."  I hate pottytraining. He's usually very good at telling us he needs to go, just sometimes, its a little too late. :/ But of course, he doesn't want to go to the potty.  My creative (and probably lazy) inner parent says "Go for his competitive nature."  "Hey Gage, I bet I can beat you to the potty. On your mark, get set, GO!"  It works. He's on the potty and I didn't have to wrestle him. (Yes- I know I'm going to regret this strategy when/if we have more children!)

6:30pm- Found frozen fish sticks and mixed veggies and get started cooking them. Yup- we could have gotten fast food at this point, because we were no longer waiting for a visitor, but I forgot about that.

7:30- Bed time comes and goes.

7:50- Jammies and teeth brushing accomplished. Now to start the beloved breathing treatment... right. He hates breathing treatments. Can't say they're MY favorite either, but since breathing and sleep are sort of essential to life, I hold him down for 10 minutes and get MOST of it in.

8:00- We read our 3 bedtime books and I'm FREE! :)  Man, that sounds bad. I just mean my time is mine again.  And what will I do with this time? I spend 11 minutes thinking about that.....

8:11 pm- I get in bed. Yup, at 8:11 pm. Call me old. Call me boring. Call me tired.  William is still not home and at this point, I'm betting that when he gets done, he'll just stay there (somewhat hoping- I hate when he drives when he's sleepy!)

9:15 pm- I hear "MAMA- I'M NOT SLEEEEEEPING!" over the baby monitor.  His music has stopped. The child sleeps to a CD he's slept to since he was like 4 months old. It plays all night and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, it soothes him back to sleep so I don't have to.  I love it. It also drowns out whatever housecleaning noise might occur at the sink or laundry room while he's trying to go to sleep. But it's broken. Silence. Well.... aside from the screaming toddler.  I reason through the fast that I'm NOT going back in there because I'm NOT going to know what's wrong it much less be able to fix it. Quick prayer that he'll go to sleep without it and I roll over and close my eyes tight. Sure enough, he's out by 9:30 or so (or at least, I was out by 9:30 or so and so I HOPE he was too!).  Finally- sleep.

12:30 am- I wake up to the familiar sound of Gage coughing. Lovely. No hubby in my bed and the lamp in the living room is still on. Must mean he's still in Granbury.  I try not to worry, but worrying is just my nature. I wake up enough to call and he doesn't answer. Commence intense worry.  I call 7 times in a row, like if he didn't answer the 5th time, he just might the 7th. Dumb.  Ok- brain is fully awake now trying NOT to imagine him crashed somewhere between here and Granbury.  I call his mom's cell phone (hoping I don't wake them up.....) and William answers. Phew. He's not dead.  But I was right, he's staying in Granbury.  Ok- Gage has stopped coughing so, back to sleep it is!

4:15 am- Again, I wake up to coughing, but it's worse this time. And it's accompanied by screams and crying. Perfect. Up and at him with a breathing treatment. First intelligible thing Gage says is "I miss Daddy."  I tell him "Daddy will be home later. It's ok." when inside I'm thinking "Yeah, me too kid." We get another breathing treatment in and I try to get him to rest in our bed. It's not working.

4:45 am- We get up and just pretend it's 7.  I get started finding some breakfast and turn on some cartoons.  Yup- lame cartoons at 4:45, but I don't think Gage cared too much.

5:15 am- Waffles and blueberries for breakfast. MMMMmmmm. It was good. Gage only ate the blueberries, but hey- whatever, they're good for you. At least it wasn't "sugar donuts". :)

5:30 am- Breakfast is over. Time for him to chill on the couch (maybe fall asleep?!?! - yeah right.) and me to play on my laptop. Hello facebook. Good morning Etsy. Despite a few "Mama, I need some attention" requests and a breathing treatment, he rests pretty well and lets me play for a loooooong time!

8 am- Finally talk to the hubby, and he's getting up and headed home. Yay!  I ask him to pick up breakfast on his way, completely forgetting that I ate a waffle at 5 whatever time it was.

9 am- Hubby arrives with food, yay. I was really hungry already! weird!  Loved my biscuit from chick-fil-a even though he forgot my coke. :) Gage is happy to see Daddy- and Daddy's iPhone. Bring on the kid's science music videos during our second breakfast.

9:45 am- I deal with the massive amounts of stinky trash that have managed to escape the trash pick-up for like 2 weeks now.  Gross.  But I took it all out, and all by myself even. Go me.

10 am- Time for another breathing treatment, mucinex, claritin, nose spray and a steam treatment- for Gage. Time for a nap for me..... it'll have to wait till noon I suppose.

OK- so there's our life. Wow- it's long. Maybe I should have just recapped the last 5 hours or something.  Well- if you read that whole thing, kudos to you.  I promise the next entry will be shorter. :) Probably.