Nope, I really don't want your help

My kids love to "help" Kevin and I do chores. Lindsay asks, "Can I help?" Charlie, in his broken English asks, "Me. Help?" I hope that this is a sign of things to come down the road that they understand chores and why we all help out around the house. But to be truly honest, I don't want their help. Because frankly, they suck at helping. All it does is slow................me................down.

The other night when they were miraculously playing together in the living room (read: wrestling more aggressively than most parents likely allow), I figured I would sneak to the bathroom and get that disaster cleaned up. But just as I started attacking the week-old toothpaste spackle dotting the sink, counter, floor, and walls (seriously....what are they doing in there when brushing?), the dreaded, "Me. Help?" rang out. And then, just as I found a task for the 2-year-old, the older of the young ones comes in, "Can I help?"

We don't have a large bathroom. So manuevering around 2 kids sounded less than ideal. I tried pawning their help off on Kevin, who was doing dishes, but apparently he beat me to the punch on passing off the help because Lindsay told me, "Daddy doesn't have anything left for me to help with."

Damnit.

So, what I snuck out thinking I could accomplish in 20 minutes took 40 minutes. But I'll be damned if I don't have the cleanest doorknobs, lightswitch covers, and bathtub ledge this side of the Mississippi. Next time I just have to get them helping with dishes before I sneak away to clean.

Don't Be An Asshole

Life's hard. Days are long. So when you go on vacation, the last thing you want to do is deal with other people's crap.

So, Mr. Oregon Ducks Guy, I can understand that a toddler isn't in your wheelhouse when eating out at a restaurant on your vacation. They can be loud. They can be busy. And lord knows they can be messy. Hell, said toddler is mine and let's be honest....even I don't want to be out at a restaurant with him.

But let's be clear. That's no reason to be an asshole. And that's most certainly what you were.

The next time you think combatting a toddler's loud babble and kissing noises a few tables over with an even louder demand to "SHUT HIM UP I'M TRYING TO EAT!", I'd like you to recognize the irony of your outburst. Maybe it's a big assumption to think a grown adult has self-control over one's actions, but common sense leads me to believe only one of the offending parties should have any concept of social norms.

Here's a tip for you -- if you don't want anything loud around you at a restaurant, don't go to a pub that willingly serves chocolate milk for the kids, shots for the adults and has live music. Ask to get a new table if you can't handle it. Or better yet, go to a restaurant where quiet ambiance is expected.

There was only one person in that restaurant that deserved to get yelled at, and it certainly wasn't Charlie. In fact, one of the people at your table should've grabbed you by the ear and hauled you out to the car to wait until everyone else was done eating. I would've done that had my child acted that that way. 

I have never before called a complete stranger an asshole to their face, but rest assured, I have no regrets about doing so to you. I just hope I don't have to again because I'll have had a lot more time to think about my profanity-laced tirade.

Oh...and just so you know, the Oregon Ducks uniforms are ugly.

How Proud You Must Be

Our wonderful daycare provider/extra grandma sent me this picture of Charlie this morning:

All I can picture is this:

How proud you must be, indeed.

Charlie and Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Life

We made it. We kept Charlie alive long enough to make it to the Terrible Two's (would've been nice had he waited until he turned 2). In the past 2-ish weeks, my very active and sweet, snuggly boy has turned into my very active monster....and not one of those cute Monsters, Inc. versions either.

Almost exactly one year ago, Charlie did things like this:

And even a month ago, he walked doing things like this ("WATCH OUT FOR THE TABLE!"):

And this:

But since then, here is a small sampling of the things you shouldn't attempt to do if Charlie is awake:

1) Look at him;
2) Not look at him;
3) Give him food;
4) Not give him food;
5) Sit by him;
6) Not sit by him;
7) Bring him in from outside;
8) Give him a toy;
9) Take away a dangerous object;
10) Put him in his car seat; and most importantly
11) Say NO to something he's demanding

If you say no, you better be prepared for something like this:

No lie, that video went on for at least another minute. Thankfully for you, my loyal readers, my phone will only allow a certain length of video to be messaged or emailed. Even more thankfully for you guys, you didn't have to witness that specific tirade firsthand because it lasted at least 10 minutes (felt like 10 days).

What caused that outburst, you ask? Well, I had the audacity to tell him that no, he couldn't carry my 10-inch chef's knife around the house. I'd say I won this round because he didn't get to carry the knife around, but I'm the one that had to survive the onslaught of tears, snot and ear-splitting screaming...plus, he gets bonus points for doing all that while wearing a t-shirt that says, "Mommy's Prince Charming." Extra jab to the throat for that dick move. Well-played, Charlie.

This little tyrant has taken from us the few remaining minutes each day that weren't already consumed by 5-year-old meltdowns over itchy shirts and not being able to wear sandals in the dead of winter. So if you are considering stopping by, staying with us or we invite you over, you might want to think twice about it. You've been warned, so don't blame me for a crappy visit.

You CAN handle the truth!

We've reached a stage where Lindsay wants to break rules, lie and omit, but just can't seem to do it. Either her conscience is catching up with her or she's just really not grasping the concept. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I actually WANT her to lie to us, but the way she doesn't lie right now is hilarious.

A couple weeks ago she walked up to Kevin, out of the blue, and said, "There's something I'm not going to tell you." After he asked what it was she said, "We were playing with something we aren't supposed to." Good cover, kid.

A few nights ago she discovered the deliciousness that is Starburst jellybeans. She had some before bed and then came out of her room a little while later for another handful. (Ignore that we gave her candy before bed and again when she came out of her room. Parents of the year.) The next morning when she woke up she told me that she was planning on sneaking out for more jellybeans once I went to sleep, but she had sadly fallen asleep herself.

That last one is a truly remarkable confession. I mean, there was literally no chance I'd ever know she was planning to deceive me. And even dumber, she ruined her chances at pulling off said deception the next night.

I'm not so much worried about her inability to break rules without confession (or even think about breaking rules without confession), but I think the skill of omission can be a very valuable one. That very much needs to get figured out. Although I suppose we probably still have time for that. For now I guess I can just pretend that she'll always feel the need to tell the truth and confess....until the day she sneaks our car for a joyride when we aren't home. (I don't have any idea who would do something like that. Most definitely not me.)

Musical Beds

One of the first purchases Kevin and I made after we got married was a king bed. It was glorious. Spacious. Allowed both of us to sleep peacefully without the necessity of being kicked, punched or needlessly breathed on.

Then we got a puppy named LaFawnduh who took up some of that space and sometimes punched, kicked or breathed on us. But she was a great snuggler, so we rolled with it. Then a puppy named Kip came into the picture and he pretty much ruined it. Once there were two 90-pound dogs in there with us, well, it didn't feel so spacious...especially when Kip decided laying on top of one of us was a good place to rest his weary head. We were one small, not-as-rested family, but hey, talk about a first world problem.

Once Lindsay came along, we were used to our king bed feeling pretty small. She didn't sleep with us much, but sometimes sleep deprivation calls for desperate measures. And it surely beat crawling into her crib of toddler bed.

You might be wondering where the musical beds come in. Well, let me introduce our sleep terrorist, Charlie.

Oh, sure. Looks cute, huh? Wait....is that a dog playing football? That is cute.

Charlie has spent most of his 17 months (Side tangent. I can't WAIT for him to turn 2 so I can stop pretending I know how many months he is. Why can't I just say he's 1?) being a pretty darn good sleeper. In fact, it isn't unheard of for him to actually walk himself to his crib waiting for us to put him in. Sure, he gets up earlier than his sister ever did, but for the past 6 months or so he'll go to bed, maybe cry once in the middle of the night for a bottle and that's it.

Lately, not so much. Sure, he's been sick. But who isn't, kid? This alleged sickness (or terroristic behavior, more likely) has created some interesting sleeping situations with him. Previously mentioned king bed? Check. Floor? Check. Couch? Check. And his current favorite? Recliner. 3 out of the past 5 nights one of us has ended up there with him.

And while that is wonderful in and of itself, the biggest of the small ones has begun an almost nightly ritual in the past few weeks of waking up in the middle of the night and sneaking into bed with us like a ninja....of course kicking, punching and breathing all over us. She even commented a couple mornings ago, "Mom, you and Dad were really a couple of blanket-hogs last night."

So sorry for the inconvenience, kid.

With all this bed switching happening most nights, we've mostly lost those dog snuggles. Sure, they may spend an hour or two in there, but as soon as those kiddos arrive, they are smart enough to get the hell out of there and find other arrangements...often in the vacated beds/rooms of the small ones.

Once the lights go out these days, the Best house is a noisy, long symphony. I, for one, am very much looking forward to it going back to the days of the house quartet....dog breath and all.

There's TWO of them!

Did you know that? Well, probably most of you did because I assume at this point only my mom and grandma are reading this. And frankly, if either of them don't know about Charlie, it's time to get that Alzheimer's consult scheduled.

Anyway, yes, there's another lovable time and energy suck residing in our home (Guess what? It's been so long that there's a new one of those too!). His name is Charlie (dammit, I already told you that...time for that Alzheimer's consult for me) and he's already ONE! Seriously, he's one. Which means I've woefully neglected this place (sorry Mom and Grandma).

Apologies aside, here's a little info about our little guy. He arrived fast. On August 29th around 9:30pm we were leaving a restaurant after dinner with friends and when they asked "You feel like you'll have that baby anytime soon?", I responded by saying, "I'm still hoping for tonight." Well, by midnight we were dropping Lindsay off with her daycare provider who kept her overnight and by about 2:15am (as if I can remember an exact time), Charlie Robert had joined our family.

Since then, well, he's been an adventure. He's infinitely needier than Lindsay ever was, but also infinitely more smiley and adventurous. He was even walking by 10 1/2 months...I could've done without that. He really does bring a smile to *almost* everyone's face that sees him. I say almost because occasionally you run into a curmudgeon who can't be softened by this face (I'm looking at you, two ladies behind us at the Twins game last night):

I'm not lying when I say Charlie is the light of every room. When he gets to daycare, all the kids rush over and yell "CHARLIE!" He's the Norm of daycare. If that keeps up, I imagine he'll be a big hit at college. I now look at every kid he meets as a potential Cliff to his Norm.

Really the only "problem" with Charlie is that he's an early riser. Early for us, at least, usually getting up around 6:45am or so. Now before you lose your minds about how ridiculous it is that we consider that early, you need to understand that Lindsay generally will sleep in until after 9am on weekends. Now is the time I expect all of you to shed a tear for us. The only good thing about getting up at that time is that by the time I normally would be getting up, I have all my lazy morning stuff done already, so we have more time to get stuff done or have good, old-fashioned family fun (and heck....even write a yearly blog post).