Lots of Small Owen Stories

Unfortunately, I do not have one really good story to share about Owen today.  But, I do have a bunch of small ones that may get a few laughs.

Yesterday, Peter took the kids to visit Keegan and Ronan.  Not enough time was spent in the backyard Disneyland on Saturday.  I was working, but I get a FB post from Kristin that reads "I was not here to witness it, but your kid scaled my fence today. I bet you can't guess which one :)".  I guessed Elsa.  Obviously, I was wrong.  When I asked Peter about it, he told me Owen looked like he was on a jail break.  Just totally climbed over the fence like he was on the run.  Awesome.

Last night, Vance was on quite a roll, e.g. eating crayons, pushing his brother down for no apparent reason, slamming his bedroom door hard enough to break off the trim, etc.  This was Vance, mind you, not Owen.  Vance and Elsa ended up locking themselves in Vance and Owen's room because Vance slammed his door so hard that the nails from the missing trim went into the door and the door was stuck.  Peter went downstairs to get something to try to get them out.  I looked down the hall and noticed Owen opened the door.  Really?  He can pick locks AND unstick doors?  Awesome.

Peter told me later on that he thought Owen was being opportunistic because when we were upset with Vance for acting the way he was (seriously, Vance does not act that way, it was like he was a completely different kid), Owen totally shmoozed us and kept telling us he loved us and wanted to sit in our laps.  He knew we were upset with Vance and he used that to his advantage to get on our good side.  Awesome.

Owen has had problems going to sleep.  He wants to stay up and party no matter how tired he is.  It has gotten to the point that Owen will sneak into our room and get into anything and everything.  I've caught him with my face lotion all over his face and legs.  I've caught him trying to climb inside my closet because my purse, which has gum in it, is on a shelf out of his reach.  He's also broken up some magnesium pills and come out of our room with powder all over his shirt.  So, I go to bed a few nights ago and there is Owen, asleep in my bed like an angel, watching "Big Momma's House".  He is totally my child for that one.  Double Awesome!

Those are a few smaller stories starring Owen Michael Paul.  Can't wait for another "big" one.

Mmm ... candy

We went to Keegan and Ronan's birthday party this weekend.  It was a lot of fun and I'll give the kids credit for behaving themselves as well as they could.  Not too many fights, except when we were leaving and they all wanted to eat candy in the car in addition to the chocolate they were eating before we left.  Is it bad parenting that I let them because I didn't want to fight?  Yeah, I kinda figured it was.  But, I did it anyway.

The kids all scored a tremendous amount of candy from the pinata and had cool Cars goodie bags to carry it home.  When we got home, I immediately put the candy in the cupboard and locked it.  Owen knows how to get the locks off, but I was hoping it would be tight enough that it would take some maneuvering from Owen and I would safely be able to use the restroom.  Do you notice a theme here?  Owen has perfected his missions to be accomplished within the two minutes it takes to use the restroom.

So, I come out two minutes later.  Not only has Owen taken all of the candy out of the cupboard and laid it on the counter (better to choose what he wanted?), but he was kind enough to make sure both Vance and Elsa got their fill as well.  At least he's sharing, right?

I really hope this kid grows up to be in the CIA.  I'd love it if he could use his talents for good.  In our last doctor's office visit, the questionaire asked if Owen would use a stool or chair to get something he wanted, but couldn't reach.  Peter laughed.  If only they knew what Owen was capable of.

A Conversation Between Owen and Elsa

This is how I imagine the conversation between Owen and Elsa went today:

Owen:  Hey, Elsa, do you know what would be super fun?

Elsa:  No, Owen, what?

Owen:  If I cut your hair like Dad cuts our hair.

Elsa:  I don't know Owen.  Have you had any experience in hair cutting before?

Owen:  Sure, I have.  I am what one would call a connoisseur in the hair cutting department.

Elsa:  Okay, I guess so.  You don't think Mom or Dad would mind?

Owen:  Of course not!  Mom and Dad are cool.  They know what's what.

Elsa:  Okay, Owen, I trust you.  Where do you want to cut my hair?

Owen:  Umm, how about we go outside so Dad isn't around?  I mean, let's go outside so we don't make a mess.  You know how I feel about making a mess.

Elsa:  Owen, everything I know about you says you like making messes, but you are my brother and I know you would never do anything bad to me.

Owen:  Of course not, Elsa!


And, that is how I imagine Owen tricked Elsa into letting him cut her hair.  Because I know my Elsa is too smart to do that unless she was tricked.  Luckily for Elsa, Owen wasn't wrong when he said he was skilled in the hair cutting department because the end result wasn't too bad.  Elsa has a few layers and some new bangs, but, overall, nothing that can't be fixed (or hidden with a few well placed barettes and pony tails).

Who knows?  Perhaps Owen will one day become a hair dresser and this event will be what triggered his career.

Cookie Monster

It is amazing how much good stuff Owen gives me to share with family and friends.  Like, literally, every day.

So, I am still on my "no losing my temper, only rewarding good behavior" kick.  I mean, it sort of worked Monday night, right?

Last night, I bought cookie dough from Schwan's and told the kids I would make cookies after dinner.  Dinner came and went and while I was getting the cookie dough in the oven, Owen asked for candy.  We have left over candy from the Memorial Day parade and the kids have had some as dessert if they've done a good job eating their dinner over the past two weeks.  I told Owen he could have candy, or he could wait ten minutes and have a big, way bigger than candy, delicious fresh out of the oven, cookie.  He chose candy.  I really, really tried to get him to hold out, but he wasn't having it.  Elsa was on Owen's side, she wanted candy.  Vance was my man, and held out for the cookie.

I passed out the candy to Owen and Elsa and reminded them that they would get NO cookies when they were done and do not even ask for one because the answer will be no.  So, the cookies finish baking and guess what.  No really, guess.  Surprising as it is, Owen wanted a cookie.  I told him no, he had candy and he knew he wouldn't get a cookie.   I started the bath for Owen and Elsa so that Vance and I could eat our fresh out of the oven cookies in peace.  Elsa, being the good girl that she is, got right into the tub and didn't even ask for a cookie.  Owen, on the other hand, was begging for cookies, even trying to steal Vance's.  Yes, he does this ALL of the time.  Usually, he gets whatever it is Vance has, too.  But, this time, Vance kept a better handle on his cookie and Owen didn't get it.

Finally, Vance finishes his cookie and I get all three of them into the bathtub.  I push the cooling rack of cookies to the back of the counter, lest any hands or dogs try to get them.  Baths go smoothly, believe it or not, there was very little fighting over who gets to sit under the tap and I don't think I heard any cries, but I had just taken cold medicine so there's a good chance my buzz made me not hear anything.

I get the kids out of the tub.  I put the boys in their room to get dressed, telling Owen I will be in there in a minute to help him with his diaper (we ran out of pull ups so he has been wearing diapers all week, which has been a horrible mistake because he LOVES wearing diapers).  In the meantime, I go to help Elsa get dressed.  She's three years old and does a great job, but for some reason, she never puts her underpants on the right way.  Plus, we need to brush her hair to avoid any knots later on.

After helping Elsa, it took maybe two minutes, I go into Owen's room.  He's gone.  I have had this kid for three years now, I should know better, right?  So, I go down the hall into the kitchen and what do I find?  A completely naked Owen standing in the middle of the kitchen eating a chocolate chip cookie.  He is so proud of himself, too.  But, I do not yell.  Nope, I let him finish his cookie, wipe up the chocolate from his face, and take him to his room to get his diaper on and get him in his pajamas.

What Owen wants, Owen gets.  Seriously.  No one stands in his way.

Poison Control (the 1st and 2nd time)

The first time we had to call Poison Control for Owen was in the summer of 2009.  He ate the fiberglass out of the fireplace in the basement.  Perhaps he thought it looked like cotton candy, I know I think it does.  Or, maybe he was just being curious.  Either way, Peter was on the phone with Poison Control and the doctor's office for the better part of the day while I waited impatiently at work to find out if Owen was okay.  When all was said and done, we determined that Owen just chewed on the fiberglass a bit and didn't actually ingest any of it.  Poison Control sent us a nice package in the mail a few days later with magnets showing the Poison Control phone number and a list of common household items that are poisonous.


The second time we had to call Poison Control was much more chaotic.  A cell tower by our house had gone down the day before so our cell service was shotty at best.  Texting was all that would go through.  This would be a good add for a landline provider.  I get a text from Peter, while I am at work, asking me to call Poison Control because Owen got the childproof lock off his Fluoride and drank the contents.  What???  I call Poison Control with very little information, e.g. I have no idea what the dosage of Fluoride was, how much he ingested, how much he weighs, etc.  Finally, the nice lady tells me to get a hold of Peter, ask him the questions she asked me and to call her back.


After much back and forth texting between Peter and me, I get the dosage from the pharmacy and call Posion Control back.  Luckily, Owen did not ingest enough to poison him.  But, he would have a pretty good stomach ache for the rest of the day.  The woman I was speaking with said to give him plenty of calcium (did you know calcium counteracts fluoride?  well, now you do) and keep an eye on him.  If he started throwing up or looking lethargic, we needed to take him to the ER.


I thanked the woman profusely, especially for her patience while I tried texting Peter to get answers to her questions.  And, she asked me if I would like her to send me a copy of the Poison Control materials (magnets, lists, etc.).  I told her, unfortunately, we already received that package.

Owen LOVES Nail Polish

We took Owen and Elsa for their 3 year check up yesterday.  We told the doctor that Owen is quite a handful.  Not malicious, by any means, but definitely curious and he doesn't care about consequences.  She suggested we try positive reinforcement.  Try our best to ignore the trouble he causes and, instead, reward him when he is good.  He gets the attention he craves, but it is for being good, not Owen.

So, after the doctor's appointment, we came home and had dinner.  After dinner and baths, Peter was reading to Vance and Elsa before bed.  I was off uploading pictures and came upstairs to find Owen missing.  I walk down the hall towards the bedrooms and I smell nail polish.  Yes, I can smell the nail polish, even though I have a terrible cold.  That is how blatant the smell is.

I find Owen in our bathroom and his legs and feet are covered in three different color nail polishes.  Gold, pink, and purple.  The kid has taste, I'll give him that, because he went for the Chanel nail polish first.  Anyway, I remember what the doctor said and I did not yell or lose my temper, at all.  Instead, I asked him where he put the nail polish on (worried that it was all over the floor somewhere, too) and quickly cleaned him up.  Oh, he was also rubbing Peter's brand new face lotion all over his legs when I found him.  So, that's kind of awesome, too.

After I cleaned him up, I brought him into the living room to read books before bed.  He read books with us and went to bed without a problem.  I made sure to tell him how much I loved him and how proud of him I was that he was being so good that night.  Who knows?  Maybe these Owen stories will diminish with my new outlook on rewarding him.

Fool Me Once, Shame on You, Fool Me Twice, Shame on Me

Owen locked me out of the house yesterday ... twice.

Hosed Down

The weather was crazy hot yesterday.  The kids played in their pool and with their slip & slide most of the day.  After naps, they wanted to go outside again.  I didn't mind.  I was attempting to cook and chaos usually just makes the end result worse.

So, there they are, happily playing outside.  All of a sudden, Vance comes in and tells me Owen pooped on Vance's shirt.  What?  I look at Vance's shirt and, sure enough, there is a stain.  I am disgusted.  Owen has been having "issues" with going to the bathroom anywhere but in the potty, e.g. in his closet while he, Vance, and Carter play with flash lights, on the floor of his room after he and Vance are in bed for the night, outside for no reason except that perhaps the bathroom is too far away and he doesn't want to stop playing, etc.

I go outside to retrieve Owen.  He needs to know this isn't acceptable, even if he does think it's funny.  Owen is standing on the deck, hose in hand.  I head towards him.  You can guess what happens next, can't you?  He sprays me with the hose, soaking me from head to foot.  And, the worst part is that he keeps spraying until I get to him and make him drop the hose.  You'd think he would have sprayed me once, let go, and run away.  Nope, he held the hose on me the entire five seconds or so it took to get to him.  How can this kid not be afraid of getting into trouble?

In the end, he was in his room for three minutes while I changed clothes.  And, he did tell me he loved me and I was his best friend when all was said and done.

Poison Control Again?

It is Wednesday night and I am doing my best to make dinner after an extremely long day at work.  I get the kids their plates and they have at it.  Vance and Elsa do a respectable job eating their dinner, which is surprising.  Owen has a few bites, but has wandered off to the kitchen to put his milk away.

It's at times like this I am glad I am not on a reality television show.  I wouldn't want other parents judging my lack of parenting when it comes to keeping my kids at the table.  I try to keep them sitting down until everyone has finished.  But, to be honest, sometimes it's more of a hassle than I think is necessary.

So, Owen is putting his milk away, but has not yet come back.  It's been maybe 45 seconds.  But, 45 seconds is a lot for Owen.  In those 45 seconds, he was able to open the child proof lock on the utensil drawer and pull out the candy thermometer.  In the five seconds it took me to get to the kitchen to check on him, he managed to chew the end off of the candy thermometer, glass and all.

I take one look at him and see his red mouth.  Blood?  Or, worse.  Mercury?  Both.  I put him on the counter and try to get him to rinse out his mouth with water.  He swallows it instead.  Argh!  Okay, I need to be rational.  How bad is this?  Really.

I get his mouth open and notice there are only a few cuts on his tongue and lip from the thermometer glass.  The more urgent matter is how much of the red mercury he swallowed.  I immediately call Peter at work to see whether I should call Poison Control or take him straight to the ER.  I am on hold for what seems like forever.  I am antsy.  I can't wait around forever.  Owen could be dying from the poisonous mercury he swallowed.

I hang up and call Mark.  Peter and Mark know everything about everything.  He will know what to do.  Besides, he's a doctor.  Well, dentist, but they're basically the same.  Before Mark even has a chance to say hello, I rush in with, "Owen has swallowed mercury from a thermometer.  Do I need to take him to the ER?"  His answer?  "Yes, get him to the ER right away."

So, of course my anxiety has quadrupled.  It's one thing when I make things worse in my mind than they are in real life.  It's another when Mark is telling me this is urgent.  I quickly get Owen into his room to get pants on (we are potty training and he is wearing only underpants).  I call Mike and Shanon in hopes that they can come and stay with Vance and Elsa, who are still sitting at the table like angels.  No answer.

I am just about to get everyone in the car when I notice Mark has called back and left a voicemail.  It must have been when I was trying to reach Mike and Shanon.  Without checking the voicemail, I call him back.  His first question to me is what color is the mercury.  It's red, duh!  That's not mercury.  That is a red alcohol used in thermometers.  Mercury is silver.  I don't need to worry.  Owen is not going to die.

My first reaction is to break down on the floor.  I can't help it.  All of the adrenaline and fear and relief from the past five minutes has caught up with me and my body lets it all go by sobbing on the floor.  Owen comes up to me and hugs me and tells me he loves me.  And, the world is right again.  I hug him for the rest of the night.  And, when he wants to get into bed with me instead of going to sleep in his bed that night, I let him.

Vance's 4th Birthday Party

It is the week before Vance's 4^th birthday party and my goal is to come home from work and concentrate on cleaning the house.  I find that if I do a little each day, it is a lot less stressful than trying to clean the entire house is one night.  Unfortunately for me, my focus on the cleaning means less focus on Owen.

I spend Thursday night cleaning the basement.  Our basement has turned from Man Cave to Kiddie Playhouse in the four years since Vance has been born.  And, because our kids don't prioritize picking up their toys when they're finished playing with them, it takes an entire night to pick everything up and vacuum.

So, there I am, happily, well maybe not happily, picking up the toys in the basement.  Vance, being the good boy that he is, is helping me pick up the blocks, telling me; "I will get the blocks under the table because you are too big to go under the table."  Thanks, honey, I love you, too.

It is after maybe three minutes that I notice Owen and Elsa are missing.  I hear Elsa upstairs saying something about water.  I just know they are trying to get water out of the fridge like they were doing 20 minutes ago and I am afraid to go upstairs and see the mess.  But, I do anyway because it is better to contain the mess as quickly as possible.

It is at this moment, I should have realized what I was in for.  Just an hour earlier, while cooking dinner, Owen and Elsa broke into my bathroom cabinet (yes, there are child locks on it and no, they do not work on Owen).  Once in my cabinet, they took out my very expensive Chanel face powder.  Powder I only use on special occasions.  Powder they decided could be used not only on themselves, but also on the floor.  I had vacuumed that floor only moments before.  That should have been my sign to give up and go to bed.

So, I walk upstairs, not thinking of the face powder incident, and I see water all over our newish laminate floors.  Only, it is not the minor amount of water that spills out of the fridge when they are trying to fill their water cups on their own.  No, this water looks like a lake.  A massive lake spread out between the kitchen and the dining room.  That is when I notice the empty gallon of distilled water on the floor.  Owen took it upon himself to pull out the distilled water we use for Peter's humidor and pour it into his and Elsa's cups.  Are you kidding me?

I grab Owen and put him in his room right away and tell Elsa to go downstairs.  I go into the hall closet and grab three beach towels to try to mop up the water before it seeps into the laminate and causes it to bubble.  I find that the three towels are not enough so I grab three more.  During this entire process, Owen is in his room yelling to me that he has "stopped whining".  Yes, that is one of the rules of timeout: you cannot leave your room until there is no more whining.

At first, I ignore him because I am busy mopping up the lake in the kitchen.  But, after I am finished, I decide to just ignore him.  If he leaves his room on his own, which he has no issue doing even though his brother and sister would never leave their timeouts without permission, that's fine.  If he stays in his room, well, at least he's semi contained.  Either way, I am going back downstairs and continuing to clean.  I am too tired to deal with how I am feeling about him right now.

He comes downstairs a few minutes later.  I continue to clean even though he is obviously trying to get my attention.  After another few minutes, he starts with "Love You, Momma" in his gravely-too-old-for-a-child voice.  Over and over again until, finally, I can't ignore him anymore.  I hug him and tell him I love him, too.  That's the thing about Owen.  He can do something that makes you want to give him away and within ten minutes, he has you back to loving him more than anything.

To My Future Daughter-in-Law

I knew Owen was special the week he was born.  I had two very vivid dreams that first week where I realized he would give me a lifetime of worry and heartache ... and love.  And, he has not disappointed in the three years since.  I joke about writing a book to my future daughter-in-law so she knows what kind of man she is going to marry.  I, of course, would not give it to her until after the wedding for fear she may have second thoughts.  In the meantime, I will try to use this blog to share Owen's shenanigans.  Hopefully, it will bring some laughs and make everyone appreciate and love Owen as much as we do.