Top Notch Parenting

Boxcar Boys

We live in a "train" town, so our background music is the soothing rumble of the wheels and warning whistles as trains pass through the multitude of crossings. The sound of coming and going, past and future, hello and goodbye. Sounds that are like the knock of the woodpecker that you hear and feel to the marrow of your bones, but don't always, see.  

There is no Thomas the Train on these tracks. These boys are loud. They are covered with the filth collected from the thousands of miles traveled so we can have our lumber, coal, and the containers shipped from factories on the other side of the world. The crimson rust is camouflaged by the masterpieces created by the underworld artists fueled by adrenalin and armed with propelled paint. 

To a certain little boy, there is nothing more magical then a train (unless it is a helicopter, dump truck, or an airplane). When he hears the soft, distant call of the train riding in, he makes sure we all know what it is: "TWAIN!"

The benefit of living in a train town is you may just find a couple 

of cars parked back on a forgotten piece of track. 

The behemoths beckon you. 

Thrill you. 

Frighten you. 

The weathered and worn shells appear ready to swallow those longing to get a closer look, but without the powerful engine, they will carry no boys away on this day. 

Today, they are gentile giants. 

Peaceful partners in play.

Larger than life. 

"If God had meant for us to fly, he wouldn't have given us the railways." -- Unknown

Run away pillow pet

The other day, my husband asked me, "How old is Hunter again?" 


"He just turned 2 in April."


"So he's really just 2?"


"I know, hubby. Can you believe it?"


He wasn't asking because he didn't know, he, as am I, was amazed at how advanced he is. 


Advanced is not always a good thing, when you have the reasoning of a 2 year old. 


.......


My husband was out of town overnight. No biggie, sometimes it's nice to have a little break and the day and evening went pretty well. As I was going to bed, I did something I don't normally do, I set the house alarm. We do set the alarm when we leave the house, but because disabling alarm is loud (compared to the quiet of the morning), we don't really set it on weekday nights, because my husband often leaves before the boys are up.


I set the alarm, and because I haven't set it from the inside recently, I had to fiddle with it for a few minutes and almost gave up on it. Once I got it set up, I moved along to bed. 


I was startled from my slumber by what can only be descried as beyond the most annoying sound on the planet. The alarm was going off at 3:20 am. It is a cross between and bat sonar, mosquito sonar, and a crickets. And a rock concert. Two noises that should never be heard by human ears at a volume that should only be heard in a stadium. So loud and annoying


But, not the noise you want to hear when you are home alone with three children under four. 


I leaped out of bed and raced to the alarm box and on the way, I passed a small crying boy. 


Hunter. 


I as I keyed in the blessed combo, the sound stop. Then it started up again. Then I keyed in the combo again.


Silence.


Except for the sounds of a terrified little boy.


Had he been woken by the sound? 


Is there an intruder somewhere in the house?


"Hunter, what are you doing? Did you open the door?"

"Yeth."


"Why, bud?"


"Because, because, because, I need to get my pillow pet."


"Where is your pillow pet?"


"It's in da stweet."


Oh, sweet Jesus.


"In the street?"


"Yeth."


It was on his bed.


I changed his diaper and he was right back to sleep.


I was not so lucky.

Budding Camera Artist

While at a Military Appreciation Ceremony on Sunday, I decided to let Hunter to play with the camera to keep him entertained. This is what a 2 year old is inspired by:

His shoe:

  

A professional photographer:

Back fat.

We have monkey see, monkey do syndrome around here, so of course, Logan wanted in on the camera fun.

After a few clicks, my boy was hooked and referring to himself as a Camera Artist. 

Here are a few of my favorite shots:

Hunter is annoyed that Logan now has the camera.

A lid.

My heart necklace.

2 hearts.

1 for Logan.

1 for Hunter.

A tent pole.

A tent stake.

A lid of a different kind.

And, he has taken about 900 more since then.

I kid you not.

I have created a monster.

Or

A Camera Artist.

The Hunter

Hunter has low grade fever and is pulling his ear. I noticed him pulling that ear a few days ago. Actually, I didn't notice he was pulling on it. I was wiping Cheeto crumbs off his hands and noticed his ear was Cheeto-orange. I guess I'll just wait till his fever spikes and then take him in. Maybe he'll fight it off on his own. There's a first time for everything, right?

This morning her decided that 3 bowls of Rice Krispies, a Nutri-Grain bar, and strawberries were just not enough, so he poured himself another bowl.

Good thing the dog likes Rice Krispies.

One of THOSE Days

Today is one of those days where

....the dirty laundry baskets are over flowing

It's one of those days where

....the boy's bathroom smells like the camp outhouse. 

The kind of day where

....the trash cans are filled with poopie diapers & pee soaked Pull-Ups.

So....

We went to the park. 

Blackmail Photos

Hunter really wants nothing to do with his sister,

but 

he is quite interested in her accessories.

Grandma bought those bows for sissy, Hunty! 

Must be school picture time! Warning: Graphic Description

I know with each pregnancy I get a little "treat"

With Logan,

it was the itchy "pregnancy rash"

that cleared up 2 days before my appointment

with the dermatologist.

In the future they told totake a picture before it clears up.

Right.

With Hunter,

it was the massive vomiting each day from 4-7 pm

in the 1st trimester

and the horribly blotchy skin

in the 3rd trimester

and in the weeks after

having him ripped through my abdomen

giving bith.

Hunter was also lucky enough to get the face frenzy as well.

Cute.

I am currently experiencing an ailment

unlike the previous two.

Acne.

Sigh.

And not even acne.

A rash-like smattering of

tiny,

large,

random,

bright red,

well ok,

acne.

It's like I'm in high school

and

pictures are on 

Monday.

Except,

I don't even get the satisfaction

of sitting on the bathroom sink

and 

popping these badboys

until the mirror is splattered 

with 

zit juice.

Yes,

these sorry excuses for "zits"

have.

no.

heads.

The nerve.

I am all for the pregnancy "glow"

but 

my face has the glow

of 

hot

MOLTEN

LAVA.

Not the look I was going for.

Is this what the girl hormones are doing to me?

I guess if this is my penance for having a girl,

I'll take it.

As if my fat ass wasn't enough.

Serious business.

His own personal Sprite.

Sweet nector of the gods.

I am not worthy.

"You are, son! Have another sip."

I AM worthy!