So, after a what? A 5 year hiatus? I’m finally back with a brand new Owen story! Don’t get too excited. Once I told him I was blogging about it, he kind of shut down.
The kids LOVE when I read “Owen Stories” from the blog. Though, they’re kind of mad I haven’t been keeping up with them. Don’t they realize that stories where I end up in tears or pulling my hair out aren’t exactly heartwarming or funny? They probably don’t care.
Anyway, we read about Owen taking Peter’s phone to school tonight and we started talking about the name of the blog. Vance asked why I named it that and I said it was so his future wife knew what she was getting into since my darling husband was “perfect” as a child so I didn’t realize there was a chance we’d have anything but perfect, polite, and QUIET kids. So, there we are talking about Owen’s future wife and he starts listing her stats:
* Blonde (kind of offended a little ... or maybe I should be more worried if she looked like me?)
* Blue (or brown) eyes ... he better not start describing Barbie or we are going to butt heads
* Hot pink lipstick (umm???)
* Hot pink nail polish (on vacation? Totes agree)
* Hot pink dress (now, I’m getting worried)
* She’ll be a lawyer (in a Hot pink dress??)
* Wait, she’ll wear a white dress for work (definitely more trustworthy in white!)
And, her name will be Roselle. So, Roselle, if you’re out there, I can’t wait to meet you! Just please, please, please, don’t wear all hot pink the first time we meet. I won’t be able to help but judge.
Thursday, March 7, 2019
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Cell Phone Bandit
I know it's been a while since I posted, but Owen hasn't done anything blog worthy. Well, not anything that I could post anyway. But, today is his lucky day.
Every morning, before school, the kids call me and the conversation goes like this:
Me: I miss you
Kid (doesn't matter which one): I miss you
Me: I love you
Kid: I love you
Me: I hope you have a good day at school today.
Kid: What are we having for dinner?
Without fail. That is the conversation regardless of which delightful child I am speaking to. This morning, I spoke to Vance and Elsa and Owen was to call me back after he finished breakfast. Now, Owen has an issue with normal calling vs. Facetime calling. He gets confused. Or, maybe he doesn't get confused and he just thinks it's cool to see the person he's talking to. Remember the video phone? Why didn't that take off??? Anyway, Owen Facetimed me five or six times before finally calling me normally. I spoke to him (reference the above conversation) and all was good. Sort of. I mean, he did tell me a few times he didn't feel well because he either a. wanted medicine or b. didn't want to go to school. But, regardless, we spoke and I carried on my merry way.
At around 8:04am, I received an Owen text from Peter's phone (Vfsfvtcvfzgvvzfcbgggg). I was a bit surprised because the kids are normally on the bus at that point, but I figured the bus was late. Around 8:13 am, I get a Facetime call from Peter, which annoyed me because he should see it is Facetime and hang up and call again. I ignored the call and tried calling back. He didn't answer. At 8:15 am, I get another call from Peter, not Facetime, and I answer. Peter has the radio up too loud or something because he can't hear me. Wait a second ... what do I hear in the background ... that's not the radio ... that sounds like a bunch of children ...
Light bulb
I call Owen back and he answers me this time.
Me: Owen, why do you have Dad's phone?
Owen: I don't know
Me: Owen, you can't have Dad's phone at school
Owen: Okay
Me: Will you please take Dad's phone to the principal's office?
Owen: I love you. Bye, Momma.
I immediately call the school and explain that Owen "accidentally" took his Dad's phone to school and I told him to bring it to the office, but I wasn't sure he would. Then, my dear, sweet Owen did the right thing and walked into the Principal's Office with his contraband. They assured me they'd keep the phone safe and I asked them to send it home with Vance at the end of the day. What? You think because Owen did the right thing by bringing the phone to the Principal's Office that I trust him to take it home without dialing any 1-900 horoscope hotlines? I don't think so.
Every morning, before school, the kids call me and the conversation goes like this:
Me: I miss you
Kid (doesn't matter which one): I miss you
Me: I love you
Kid: I love you
Me: I hope you have a good day at school today.
Kid: What are we having for dinner?
Without fail. That is the conversation regardless of which delightful child I am speaking to. This morning, I spoke to Vance and Elsa and Owen was to call me back after he finished breakfast. Now, Owen has an issue with normal calling vs. Facetime calling. He gets confused. Or, maybe he doesn't get confused and he just thinks it's cool to see the person he's talking to. Remember the video phone? Why didn't that take off??? Anyway, Owen Facetimed me five or six times before finally calling me normally. I spoke to him (reference the above conversation) and all was good. Sort of. I mean, he did tell me a few times he didn't feel well because he either a. wanted medicine or b. didn't want to go to school. But, regardless, we spoke and I carried on my merry way.
At around 8:04am, I received an Owen text from Peter's phone (Vfsfvtcvfzgvvzfcbgggg). I was a bit surprised because the kids are normally on the bus at that point, but I figured the bus was late. Around 8:13 am, I get a Facetime call from Peter, which annoyed me because he should see it is Facetime and hang up and call again. I ignored the call and tried calling back. He didn't answer. At 8:15 am, I get another call from Peter, not Facetime, and I answer. Peter has the radio up too loud or something because he can't hear me. Wait a second ... what do I hear in the background ... that's not the radio ... that sounds like a bunch of children ...
Light bulb
I call Owen back and he answers me this time.
Me: Owen, why do you have Dad's phone?
Owen: I don't know
Me: Owen, you can't have Dad's phone at school
Owen: Okay
Me: Will you please take Dad's phone to the principal's office?
Owen: I love you. Bye, Momma.
I immediately call the school and explain that Owen "accidentally" took his Dad's phone to school and I told him to bring it to the office, but I wasn't sure he would. Then, my dear, sweet Owen did the right thing and walked into the Principal's Office with his contraband. They assured me they'd keep the phone safe and I asked them to send it home with Vance at the end of the day. What? You think because Owen did the right thing by bringing the phone to the Principal's Office that I trust him to take it home without dialing any 1-900 horoscope hotlines? I don't think so.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
The First Day of Kindergarten
So, yesterday was the first day of kindergarten for Owen and Elsa. They aren't in the same class. I'm not sure how I feel about this yet, but I have decided to reserve judgement. Owen has Vance's kindergarten teacher. We're hoping this will help Owen behave every day. Though, I'll admit his preschool teacher said he was a rockstar in class. Sure, there were times he had to be reminded that the class was doing something else and he needed to put down the toy, snack, etc. and join everyone else. But, nothing like the mischief he gets into at home. Phew! Anyway, yesterday was the first day of kindergarten. I flew home after work because I was so excited to find out how everyone's first day went. The kids were excited and interrupted each other continuously to tell me about friends, teachers, recess, hallway meet ups, etc. Then, Owen said the darndest thing. He couldn't "find" his water bottle during snack time. The water bottle in his backpack right next to his lunch that he took out and ate at lunchtime, which was before snack time. So, he had milk. How did he have milk? Did he have money to purchase said milk? Nope. Apparently, my darling Owen finagled the system on the very first day of school and had milk to drink during snack time while everyone else had water. This year is going to be fun, I have a feeling.
Friday, May 31, 2013
The Big 0-5
Let me preface this posting by saying it is not a funny one. So, Owen turned the big 0-5 this week. I've been trying to figure out a good story to blog and have come up blank ... Until tonight. Today has been hectic; trying to arrange for house showings, the explorer is broken, the list goes on. I finally get home and am somewhat relaxed. Peter comes in a bit later with pizza. Vance & Owen are wrestling; their favorite of late. Owen starts crying; he fell and hurt his head. Except, he's really crying, it's not his attention seeking cry. He is in the kitchen and I go to him to see what's wrong. That's when I see blood splattered all over his t-shirt. I swear I almost threw up (don't hope for me in a crisis). My stomach dropped & I yelled for Peter. I had no idea how bad it was, but the blood scared the hell out of me. There was a lot of back & forth; ER, it's clotting, better safe than sorry, please mom I don't want stitches. It eventually clots and, though, somewhat long, not deep. I took him to urgent care to be safe & apparently they don't look at head injuries. I decided to just buy butterfly bandages (which don't work on a head with hair) and take him home. The end result was a gauze pad and an ace bandage wrapped around his head, which he fought because it looked silly. The bottom line of this story is that all of the things he does that drive me crazy pale in comparison to how much I love my Owen Michael. Happy 0-5 my darling boy.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
College Owen
So, last night gave a little glimpse into what Owen will be like in college. Let me preface this post by saying, PLEASE don't call CPS on me. I have decided that Owen will do what Owen wants to do regardless of the consequences. The only way to keep Owen completely out of trouble would be to keep him in a straight jacket. Sadly, I'm serious.
For those that don't know, we are re-doing our master bath in an attempt to put our house on the market this spring. It's spring now? Well, before the end of spring, surely. Maybe summer. Anyway, our cabinets are completely empty because Peter will be taking them out and installing new ones. Because we don't have anywhere to put the stuff we use on a regular basis, it is all sitting out near the bathtub.
Yesterday, I came home from work and immediately started getting dinner ready. I wanted to try a new recipe that took more than the usual easy 30 minutes all of my other recipes take and so I needed to hustle. Owen is wandering throughout the house. No big deal, nothing out of the ordinary. That's when Elsa comes out of our bedroom and tells me that Owen drank Listerine. What? Who drinks Listerine? Yuck! I immediately run down the hallway and grab the bottle. Unfortunately, I don't know how much he drank. I asked Vance (who didn't see Owen drink it, by the way) and he implied Owen drank a quarter of the bottle. I freak out. Owen smells like Listerine and is all of 42 pounds.
So, I read the bottle and the warning is right there in what seems like bold letters; "If more than the amount used to rinse your mouth is accidentally swallowed, call poison control or seek medical attention immediately." Poison Control again?!?!?! I text Peter and ask if I need to take Owen to the hospital. He asks how much Owen had to drink. I have no idea!
I ask Owen to please tell me the truth; "How much of this did you drink?" His response? Two sips, but he spit it out. Can I believe him? Do I risk it? I tell him that he might get very sick and we may need to go to the hospital. He takes me into the bedroom and shows me that he spit it out in Peter's sink. It does smell like Listerine. What's a mom to do? I read the bottle again and notice there is fluoride in the mouth wash. Great! But, at least I know from one of our other poison control calls, what to do if you consume too much fluoride. I pour him a huge glass of milk and tell him to slam it. Fortunately, for once in his almost five years, he actually listens to me. I think he's afraid of the hospital.
Because I am now convinced he spit most of it out (I mean, seriously, who drinks Listerine???), I decide to wait and see if we need to take him to the hospital or make our third call to Poison Control. He seems to be doing okay, so I continue to make dinner. Things are good. Phew!
Peter gets home from work and we sit down to eat. That's when the alcohol hits Owen, I think, because he starts singing and yelling at the table. He is, legitimately, out of control. We try to tell him it's impolite to scream and sing loudly at the table. No dice. We tell him he will sit in his room if he continues, he continues. We put him in his room. He starts yelling down the hallway and carrying on in a way what I imagine (you know, because I've never experienced it in real life) someone who has a slight buzz would be like. Jeez, this is going to be a long night. Fortunately, my dinner took way longer than it said and it was almost bed time by the time we finished. Peter read to Vance and Elsa and I laid with Owen until he passed out.
So, one day, Owen will go to college (hopefully) and I now know what kind of kid he will be when he has a few beers in him. Fun, loud, and will probably resist the police when they are called in for a noise complaint. Awesome!
Oh, and P.S. the Listerine bottle is now on top of the cabinet in the guest bathroom. Far out of reach of little hands.
For those that don't know, we are re-doing our master bath in an attempt to put our house on the market this spring. It's spring now? Well, before the end of spring, surely. Maybe summer. Anyway, our cabinets are completely empty because Peter will be taking them out and installing new ones. Because we don't have anywhere to put the stuff we use on a regular basis, it is all sitting out near the bathtub.
Yesterday, I came home from work and immediately started getting dinner ready. I wanted to try a new recipe that took more than the usual easy 30 minutes all of my other recipes take and so I needed to hustle. Owen is wandering throughout the house. No big deal, nothing out of the ordinary. That's when Elsa comes out of our bedroom and tells me that Owen drank Listerine. What? Who drinks Listerine? Yuck! I immediately run down the hallway and grab the bottle. Unfortunately, I don't know how much he drank. I asked Vance (who didn't see Owen drink it, by the way) and he implied Owen drank a quarter of the bottle. I freak out. Owen smells like Listerine and is all of 42 pounds.
So, I read the bottle and the warning is right there in what seems like bold letters; "If more than the amount used to rinse your mouth is accidentally swallowed, call poison control or seek medical attention immediately." Poison Control again?!?!?! I text Peter and ask if I need to take Owen to the hospital. He asks how much Owen had to drink. I have no idea!
I ask Owen to please tell me the truth; "How much of this did you drink?" His response? Two sips, but he spit it out. Can I believe him? Do I risk it? I tell him that he might get very sick and we may need to go to the hospital. He takes me into the bedroom and shows me that he spit it out in Peter's sink. It does smell like Listerine. What's a mom to do? I read the bottle again and notice there is fluoride in the mouth wash. Great! But, at least I know from one of our other poison control calls, what to do if you consume too much fluoride. I pour him a huge glass of milk and tell him to slam it. Fortunately, for once in his almost five years, he actually listens to me. I think he's afraid of the hospital.
Because I am now convinced he spit most of it out (I mean, seriously, who drinks Listerine???), I decide to wait and see if we need to take him to the hospital or make our third call to Poison Control. He seems to be doing okay, so I continue to make dinner. Things are good. Phew!
Peter gets home from work and we sit down to eat. That's when the alcohol hits Owen, I think, because he starts singing and yelling at the table. He is, legitimately, out of control. We try to tell him it's impolite to scream and sing loudly at the table. No dice. We tell him he will sit in his room if he continues, he continues. We put him in his room. He starts yelling down the hallway and carrying on in a way what I imagine (you know, because I've never experienced it in real life) someone who has a slight buzz would be like. Jeez, this is going to be a long night. Fortunately, my dinner took way longer than it said and it was almost bed time by the time we finished. Peter read to Vance and Elsa and I laid with Owen until he passed out.
So, one day, Owen will go to college (hopefully) and I now know what kind of kid he will be when he has a few beers in him. Fun, loud, and will probably resist the police when they are called in for a noise complaint. Awesome!
Oh, and P.S. the Listerine bottle is now on top of the cabinet in the guest bathroom. Far out of reach of little hands.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Bipolar Relationship??
Is that a thing? I don't mean to offend anyone, but it's the only way I can describe my relationship with Owen. We go from one extreme (yelling, kicking, whining <-- usually Owen, but sometimes me) to the other (cuddling, sweet, I love you's) with rarely any interaction in between. It amazes me and also makes me wonder.
Yesterday, I picked the kids up after work and was informed that Owen seemed tired. This is, literally, one of the phrases I fear the most because it usually means I am in for an explosive night with my darling Owen. Sure enough, it started in the car. Owen wanted gum. I said no. Did I have a good reason to say no? Not really, it was just the first thing that came to mind. Would it have been bad to give him gum? Physically? No. But, because I said no, I had to stick to my guns. A little lesson I am learning. I offered him an Altoid to ease the pain. Vance took it immediately, Elsa passed, Owen pouted. I told him I would give him until the count of three and then I was taking the Altoid back. One .... Two .... Three. No dice. I took the mint back.
That's when the tantrum started.
"Mom, give me the mint!"
"Mom, I'll take the mint now"
"Mom, please may you give me the mint"
"Mom, it's not fair Vance got a mint and I didn't"
"Mom, if you don't give me the mint, I won't be your best friend"
This went on for 20 minutes, the entire car ride home. I did not give in. It would have been so easy. The yelling and temper tantrums would have stopped and I would have been able to listen to music in peace. But, no, I stuck to my guns and it was a horrible car ride.
It got worse when we pulled into the garage. He threw his stuffed animal at me because I was ignoring him. Then, he started kicking the seats. I took him right to his room and locked the door. I got Vance and Elsa out of the car and brought all of their school bags inside.
Once Vance and Elsa were playing outside, I went to Owen's room to talk to him. He was calm. I hugged him and told him we weren't discussing the mint anymore. Then, I asked him if he wanted to have a snack with me. We sat in the kitchen and ate hummus together (yes, this is our snack of choice) just me and my Owen.
For the rest of the evening, he was cuddly and affectionate, he said I love you a lot, he was my good boy Owen. Extremes. That is all I can describe our relationship as. We are either super loving and affectionate, or we scream and yell. I hope it gets better. Though, not if it means we have the in-between where we don't yell but we also aren't affectionate. I don't ever want to not matter to Owen.
On a side note, one of these days, I will record Owen saying my favorite thing "Don't judge me, Mom, don't judge me." Does he know what it means? Absolutely not, which makes it funnier.
Yesterday, I picked the kids up after work and was informed that Owen seemed tired. This is, literally, one of the phrases I fear the most because it usually means I am in for an explosive night with my darling Owen. Sure enough, it started in the car. Owen wanted gum. I said no. Did I have a good reason to say no? Not really, it was just the first thing that came to mind. Would it have been bad to give him gum? Physically? No. But, because I said no, I had to stick to my guns. A little lesson I am learning. I offered him an Altoid to ease the pain. Vance took it immediately, Elsa passed, Owen pouted. I told him I would give him until the count of three and then I was taking the Altoid back. One .... Two .... Three. No dice. I took the mint back.
That's when the tantrum started.
"Mom, give me the mint!"
"Mom, I'll take the mint now"
"Mom, please may you give me the mint"
"Mom, it's not fair Vance got a mint and I didn't"
"Mom, if you don't give me the mint, I won't be your best friend"
This went on for 20 minutes, the entire car ride home. I did not give in. It would have been so easy. The yelling and temper tantrums would have stopped and I would have been able to listen to music in peace. But, no, I stuck to my guns and it was a horrible car ride.
It got worse when we pulled into the garage. He threw his stuffed animal at me because I was ignoring him. Then, he started kicking the seats. I took him right to his room and locked the door. I got Vance and Elsa out of the car and brought all of their school bags inside.
Once Vance and Elsa were playing outside, I went to Owen's room to talk to him. He was calm. I hugged him and told him we weren't discussing the mint anymore. Then, I asked him if he wanted to have a snack with me. We sat in the kitchen and ate hummus together (yes, this is our snack of choice) just me and my Owen.
For the rest of the evening, he was cuddly and affectionate, he said I love you a lot, he was my good boy Owen. Extremes. That is all I can describe our relationship as. We are either super loving and affectionate, or we scream and yell. I hope it gets better. Though, not if it means we have the in-between where we don't yell but we also aren't affectionate. I don't ever want to not matter to Owen.
On a side note, one of these days, I will record Owen saying my favorite thing "Don't judge me, Mom, don't judge me." Does he know what it means? Absolutely not, which makes it funnier.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Definitely a Misdemeanor
The orginal title of this post was "Definitely a Felony". Peter corrected me and said these stories don't involve felonies; only misdemeanors. Man, I hope I don't ever have felony in the title of one of my blog postings.
So, we've had a few issues recently with our wonderful Owen Michael Paul. Surprise surprise, right? I know, it is pretty shocking. But, I swear to you, it's true.
First of all, Owen has come down with what I hope is a curable disease ... kleptomania. I know, I know, he's four, it's just a phase. Yeah, no. It started innocently enough with him stealing chapstick out of our linen closet. Some may argue that, technically, it's in his home and could be considered his and not really stealing. Unfortunately, it did not stop there. He has since stolen chapstick and gum from his cousin, Azylin. And also tic tacs and chapstick from two of his grandmas (he has a thing for chapstick apparently). We made him give everything back and apologize. You'd think that might be enough to get him not to do it again, right? Wrong. He stole gum and chapstick again from Azylin. We told him that this time he has to pay money from his piggy bank, give back his loot, and apologize. He cried and cried, screamed about how he has no more quarters left and it just isn't fair. It actually broke my heart a bit. I hate making my kids so upset, but I stuck to my guns. I'd rather have an upset Owen than an Owen who isn't allowed in people's houses because he has sticky fingers.
The next misdemeanor involves underage drinking. Now, we've found numerous open Coke and Sprite cans underneath the pool table in the basement. We've talked to him about how bad soda is for children, but, of course, it tastes good so why would he listen? However, today takes the cake. I was getting the basement bedroom ready for special visitors and noticed that Owen kept going into the laundry room where we have an extra fridge. I asked him to stop because I wanted to keep the warm air in the bedroom and not leaking out into the laundry room. I went upstairs, but Mr. Owen stayed downstairs because he wanted to "look around in the basement". What? We forced him to come upstairs anyway and didn't really question anything. Owen kept showing us the juice he poured into a sippy cup and said it makes bubbles when you shake it. Again, didn't really question anything (though, now it all makes sense). After the boys were in bed, Peter asked me to taste Owen's juice. Yup, it was about 50/50 juice and Bud Light. Peter found the open can of beer in the fridge in the basement. He showed it to Owen who had just come out of his room for the 87th time to "tell us something" and Owen immediately turned around, went back into his room, and blocked the door with his body when we tried to come in and talk to him. We had the "you are too young to drink, you could go to jail, Mommy & Daddy could go to jail" talk with him. Fingers crossed that it works. Fingers crossed that he stops stealing. He's too young for this, isn't he?
Please don't call CPS; I swear we are moving the beer.
I will end this post with my most recent favorite picture of Owen. This was last night. He walked out of his room in his cute pajamas, holding his sister's Coach purse, and wearing a Santa hat (even though it looks like underwear) and told me he was going on a date with his friend, Alex. Man, I love this little boy!!
So, we've had a few issues recently with our wonderful Owen Michael Paul. Surprise surprise, right? I know, it is pretty shocking. But, I swear to you, it's true.
First of all, Owen has come down with what I hope is a curable disease ... kleptomania. I know, I know, he's four, it's just a phase. Yeah, no. It started innocently enough with him stealing chapstick out of our linen closet. Some may argue that, technically, it's in his home and could be considered his and not really stealing. Unfortunately, it did not stop there. He has since stolen chapstick and gum from his cousin, Azylin. And also tic tacs and chapstick from two of his grandmas (he has a thing for chapstick apparently). We made him give everything back and apologize. You'd think that might be enough to get him not to do it again, right? Wrong. He stole gum and chapstick again from Azylin. We told him that this time he has to pay money from his piggy bank, give back his loot, and apologize. He cried and cried, screamed about how he has no more quarters left and it just isn't fair. It actually broke my heart a bit. I hate making my kids so upset, but I stuck to my guns. I'd rather have an upset Owen than an Owen who isn't allowed in people's houses because he has sticky fingers.
The next misdemeanor involves underage drinking. Now, we've found numerous open Coke and Sprite cans underneath the pool table in the basement. We've talked to him about how bad soda is for children, but, of course, it tastes good so why would he listen? However, today takes the cake. I was getting the basement bedroom ready for special visitors and noticed that Owen kept going into the laundry room where we have an extra fridge. I asked him to stop because I wanted to keep the warm air in the bedroom and not leaking out into the laundry room. I went upstairs, but Mr. Owen stayed downstairs because he wanted to "look around in the basement". What? We forced him to come upstairs anyway and didn't really question anything. Owen kept showing us the juice he poured into a sippy cup and said it makes bubbles when you shake it. Again, didn't really question anything (though, now it all makes sense). After the boys were in bed, Peter asked me to taste Owen's juice. Yup, it was about 50/50 juice and Bud Light. Peter found the open can of beer in the fridge in the basement. He showed it to Owen who had just come out of his room for the 87th time to "tell us something" and Owen immediately turned around, went back into his room, and blocked the door with his body when we tried to come in and talk to him. We had the "you are too young to drink, you could go to jail, Mommy & Daddy could go to jail" talk with him. Fingers crossed that it works. Fingers crossed that he stops stealing. He's too young for this, isn't he?
Please don't call CPS; I swear we are moving the beer.
I will end this post with my most recent favorite picture of Owen. This was last night. He walked out of his room in his cute pajamas, holding his sister's Coach purse, and wearing a Santa hat (even though it looks like underwear) and told me he was going on a date with his friend, Alex. Man, I love this little boy!!
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