5....FINALLY

You can refer to my post in April/May of 2009 regarding Calebs birthday to understand what a momentus occasion this is for us.

And of course he wouldn't be still long enough to take his picture.

The entire last year has been peppered with "I hate being 4."  and in the first half of the year, "Why can't I still be three?" and the second half of the year, "When can I be 5?  I hate four."

No, really.  I have never seen a kid have such distaste for his age, but he did.

Luckily we all survived, with only one broken bone, one mysterious disappearance and more funny comments than I can count. 

We're lucky to have him, I think we'll keep him.

Stop that Cart...But Leave 'The Finger' Out of It

As I have been searching for Corn-free, Yeast-free, basically food free items for Noah to eat, we (that would be Caleb and I) made a quick trip to Good Earth this morning.  He had a snack, a drink and was totally up for the experience.  That makes one of us.

After dropping the pretzels, succumbing to multiple requests for this and that (and of course it was all the stuff I could have gotten cheaper someplace else), I was so done.

We pay and make a quick escape to the car.  I put Caleb in the car (he refused to wear shoes even though it was snowing...that's my boy) and went to put my purchases in the back of the car.

My back seats were laying down flat and I needed them up to keep everything from flying all over the place (have you ever gone somewhere with me and let me drive? 'nuff said).  So I put up the first seat, grab the second seat to pull it into place when the cart makes it's move.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a glint, it could be the snow...but alas, it was the renegade shopping cart...trying to escape with my fairly expensive corn free, yeast free, food free food.  So I hurry to put the second seat back up and make my move to jump after the cart all at the same time...hey, I was multi-tasking.  When just after I make my leap towards the car, I am jerked back like a rubber band shot gone awry.  I had shut my middle finger in the recess between the two seats. 

I yank trying to free my hand from the car, which is apparently in cahoots with the cart and I am stuck fast.  So I yank harder.  It hurt.  It hurt really bad.  But I got free, made it to the cart before it hit a car that was worth more than my house.

I loaded the groceries, took the cart in, got in the car and inspected the finger.  Yes, I purposefully said 'the finger'.  A red scrape (no broken skin) down the center of it and a purply (is that a word?), bluish colored knot rising at the base of my finger.  Great.  Now I can use 'the finger' to give people 'the finger' whether I mean to or not.

Lessons Learned
1.  I'm insured...
2.  I'm not so swollen anymore, but it still hurts.
3.  I better check to see if I have a stupidity rider on my insurance.
4.  I can't even try and do a 'good mom' deed without something weird happening.
5.  Not a good sign when you make it to the 'For the love of Pete' portion of the day before noon.

To Pee or Not to Pee

That is the question.  Really.  That is the question.

We had to go to the hospital the other day for some follow up tests....for Baylee, who else?  Same fun, different day.  At least this time it was only a Urinalysis and not blood work.  Easy peasy (I said peasy...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...you'll get it after you read), lemon squeezy.

I take Caleb with me this time, even though I usually avoid it at all costs.  I hate taking him grocery shopping...trust me, the hospital and Caleb are not a fun combo.  We get in line to register and one registrars computer goes down...so the people at her desk come back to the front of the line, which means I get bumped...well of course.  We can't just get in and out can we?

We register, head to the lab, turn in our paperwork, find our faxed paperwork and then we sit in the empty waiting room.  Yes, we sat and we sat and we sat.  Just out of curiosity, do you think they are looking out of the little window of their door to see what we are doing while we wait?  It could be a whole psychological evaluation thing...or it could be a terrorist plot.  I don't know.  I'm just sayin'.

We finally get called, they hand Baylee the cup, she goes back to the bathroom and Caleb and I sit on the couch.  Caleb gets antsy...so what else is new, but after 15 minutes I had hit my limit.  And yes, I did say 15 minutes.  So I knock on the door, "Baylee, you okay?" "Fine mom."

At which point Caleb decides he absolutely has to go to the bathroom.  So I take him to the bathroom across the hall.  We go in and he immediately starts yelling about how I can't be in there, girls can't come in while I'm going to the bathroom.  It wouldn't have been so bad except for...well...you know how hospital bathrooms are.  They echo.  They reverberate.  They magnify.  I finally convince him to go.  It did take 5 minutes though and I had endure being told (okay yelled at) that if I didn't leave he would break all of my bones and not let the hospital people fix them.  I'm sure everyone enjoyed that....because I sure did.  Especially since my in and out trip to the hospital was now over 30 minutes.

After he goes to the bathroom he refuses to pull up his pants for the exact same reasons listed in the previous paragraph.  Then we had the entire same conversation about broken bones, although it was one of those conversations where the volume was amplified.  So after ANOTHER 5 mines I finally said I would flush the toilet myself, open the door and let everyone see his *privates* (*I used the anatomically correct word, but this is a family blog after all).  So he started to scream, pulled his pants up and flushed the toilet.  I'm pretty sure, by the looks on every ones faces as we walked out of the bathroom, that they all thought I was beating him.  I wasn't.  But I wanted to.

We go back to the lab and Baylee is STILL in the bathroom.  She comes out and takes a big drink of water and goes back in.  After another 5 minutes, I'm done.  We decide to take the cup home and take our chances.  We just had to have the sample back to the hospital by 7 or we would have to re-register.

As we are leaving, Caleb decides that he is furious because he didn't get his own cup.  He didn't quite understand it wasn't for drinking.  He sits himself down in the lobby and refuses to leave.  I was okay with that.  I said goodbye and started walking out of automatic doors.  He flips out, runs after me, trips, splits his lip, gets covered in blood and the whole time I am walkin' away.  Yeah, I am really that GOOD of a parent.

We get to the car, finally get home and the first thing Baylee does is go to the bathroom.  You heard it hear first folks.  I'll be here all week...

Lessons Learned
1.  Baylee has to 'christen' every public restroom we are in the vicinity of...but the one time, the only time I NEED her to pee in public, she gets stage fright.
2.  Caleb will NOT be accompanying me to the hospital again...unless he is in it and sedated.
3.  I need a hobby.
4.  Maybe I should get Caleb his own set of hospital gear so he doesn't feel left out.
5.  I really need a hobby.

Marco? Polo....

Caleb has entered a point in his life that he is really asserting his independence...much to  my dismay...it isn't like he wasn't already independent...

On Sunday we went to my sisters ward for the blessing of her cute little baby and then we went to our ward to teach our Sunday School class.  We got there right before our class was to start so I ran to the other side of the building to go and grab something.  Caleb was mad about something (as usual...) and I was talking to a friend.  Now...let me be honest...it was a short conversation.  I saw Caleb go around the corner, but he has done so good lately about not straying that I figured he was just pouting around the corner.

I finish up my conversation...and by the way, I really don't get a lot of grown up talk time...so I was really enjoying it, and headed around the corner to grab Caleb, take him to his class and then go to mine.  I get to the hall...no Caleb.  Walk around to the other side of the building where Felix was...no Caleb.  Get the rest of the kids to start doing a class to class search.  I get to Felix and tell him to head home and see if he tried to make his way there.

The kids don't find him in class rooms, in bathrooms...the kid vanished out of thin air.  I call Felix at home and he says there is no sign of him.  I tell him to call 911, because of Caleb's history with 1st East, church and disappearing.  Long story...still traumatized (and it was 2 years ago), so not going into it.

Felix said to go and grab someone from the Bishopric to help search before we do that.  As I head back to the chapel, Sacrament meeting gets out, throngs of people start herding to their classes and there is still no sign of Caleb.  Hi, my name is Wendy and I'm TOTALLY panicking.  Just as I reach out to grab someone to help, out of the corner of my eye I see of flash of color.  I turn and guess who is climbing out from underneath one of the tables?  And yes, it was a table I checked.

Lessons Learned
1. Marco?
2. Polo
3. I'm gonna hurt the kid if he ever hides from me again.
4. Oh I did call Felix and Felix wanted to spank him too.
5. But we didn't...we resorted to psychological torture of taking things away instead.  And all Caleb could say about it all was, "Why do you have to remember things?"  I don't know...why do I?

What If I Panic?

We tried last summer to teach Caleb how to ride his bike and he would have NONE OF IT.  So last Friday, Savannah and Sara tried to give it a go.  He was interested, but he can work Savannah like nobodies business...and all he had to do was say, "I can't." and she pushes him.  Smart kid.

So on Saturday Felix and I tried to give it a go and within 30 minutes he was riding his bike...yes, we are that good.  Not really, Caleb was just ready, Felix understands how boys need to balance and the rest was history.

Once we got him going, the overprotective part of being a parent kicked in and Felix and I felt the need to stay by him while he was learning.  Like everything else Caleb has done in life, he has two speeds...Stop and Super FAST.  Let's just say I got my exercise.

About halfway through our growing up journey of riding a bike, he started riding, stopped, looked up at me and said, "What if I panic?"  "Well," I said, stop and get off.  He kept asking me over and over again, "What if I panic?"  I kept giving the same answer.  Let my just say that Caleb has persistance that would try Job.  I finally got him to put a cork in it and ride his bike.  I was so grateful.  About 20 minutes later I was telling my cute "panic" tale to a neighbor and Savannah walked up and heard the conversation.

"Oh," she says..."whenever he freaks out he slams on the breaks and yesterday Sara and I told him to stop 'panicking'.  He thinks putting the brakes on is called panicking."

Lessons Learned
1. Kids really do know what they are talking about.
2. I have no idea what anyone is talking about.
3. We have now mastered braking and turning...the mommy no longer has to run (that was not a pretty picture).
4. Awwwww....he's so cute on his teeny, tiny bike.
5. Like the rest of the munchkins...all he has to do is want to do something and it's done.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree...

Quotes and Musings from the Morgan Household (in the past 2 weeks no less):

"Mom, wanna play destruction worker with me?" - Caleb

"Dad, I know what you're thinking...because I'm telepathetic." - Noah

"Do we really have to have a conversation? Again? It's always the same thing. I know what you are going to say, so can we just skip it this time?" - Noah

"Savannah, where is Noah?" "Don't worry, I disposed of him." - Savannah

"I don't want a soul anymore, mine talks to much." - Caleb

"Dang it Baylee - I broke a nail." - Savannah (after tripping over Baylee and falling and skidding across the floor)

"I can see my carpet, if I move stuff." - Baylee (on why her room IS clean)

"Yeah I was breathing...I think." - Caleb

"Good evening Caleb." - Caleb (on how is wants to be greeted)

"Marco." - Me (really, who knows why...sometimes stuff just slips out)

"A red mark on your hand? Let's cut it off." - Me

"You've got one good eyeball, use it." - Me (compassion, compassion, compassion...through and through)

So this is just a small sample of what goes in around my house on a very regular basis...just thought I would share. Because, really....Freud ain't got nothing on me.