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!!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
What Does This Say About Me As A Parent
I have a few different stories for today's blog. I've been saving them up to give one, big, fantastic, blog blow out. No just kidding, they all happened in the last three days and I wanted to write them all before I forgot.
Today, was Costco day in the Owen Michael Paul household. I decided to be brave and took all three kids with me after work. What started as a normal and, actually, pleasant Costco trip soon turned loud and tear-worthy. Owen and Elsa were sitting "up front" in the cart and Vance sat in the main part of the cart with 50 pounds of frozen chicken and 30 rolls of paper towel.
We decided to pick up a new dog bed for Sid-Vicious because she has been sleeping on the boys extra bed and making it all dog stinky (yes, they share a twin bed, don't ask; they know there is another twin bed just waiting for one of them to sleep in it). Vance decided to get comfortable in the cart and used the new dog bed as his pillow.
After adding a few more items, I asked Vance if he was okay since he was now camoulflaged by all of our groceries. I don't think Owen was happy that Vance had a sweet pillow and a blanket made of oranges and Pledge because he decided he wanted to sit in the main cart with Vance. I tried to tell him it wasn't as fun as it looked. No dice. I told him there is no room, which there wasn't. Yep, no dice. Finally, I just said no. No, you cannot sit there, there is no room in the cart for you (or soup for you, for that matter. Owen acquired what can only be described as short term hearing loss because he didn't hear any of that. He made the decision on his own to climb out of the cart (while it was moving!).
He then tried to climb into the cart where Vance was on his own and would have succeeded if it weren't for you meddling kids. Sorry, too many Scooby Doo episodes. Anyway, he tried climbing in on his own, but I was able to stop him. That's when he decided to let me and all of Costco know how unhappy he was with my decision. We had yelling, tears, kicking, hitting, trying to climb back in over and over again. This, legitimately, went on for 15 minutes. I tried to tell him he was embarrassing himself. I told him he was embarrassing me. I told him he'd be sitting in his room when we got home. I tried to shrink away from all of the stares. You know the stares. The stares that tell you exactly what kind of parent these strangers think you are based on the way your child is behaving in Costco. Finally, FINALLY, after what seemed like an interminable amount of screaming and yelling, the food sample girls saved the day.
"Yogurt? Try our Greek yogurt. Only 90 calories and high in protein."
Owen's ears perked right up and he asked if he could have yogurt. A good mom probably would have said no. He didn't deserve it based on his behavior 11 seconds ago. However, I just wanted to get through with Costco and go home with no more temper tantrums. So, I gave in and let him and his brother and sister have the yogurt. He was fine for the rest of the trip. I don't think I want to know what this whole story says about me as a parent.
The next story is actually a little funny on Owen's part. On Sunday night, I'm sitting down watching the Golden Globes. So excited for Tina and Amy. Vance comes out of his room crying because Owen has convinced him there is a hole in the floor of their room. I told him it was a vent and he should go back to bed. That wasn't good enough and he is legitimately crying. So, I get off the couch, pause Tina and Amy, and head to casa V&O. Vance tells me that there is a hole under their bed and they will fall into it while they are asleep. At first, I laugh. I mean, really? You think there is a sinkhole that only Owen knows about big enough to swallow you, your brother, and the bed? But, Vance is really scared and cries harder when I laugh. So, I try to convince him that just the day before, I pulled the bed away from the wall to clean underneath it and there was no hole. He doesn't believe me. I try really hard to try to convince him there is no hole. But, it's no use. In his mind, there is a sinkhole waiting to devour him and nothing can change that. So, in the end, I had to have Peter come in and talk him down. I wonder how Peter convinced him there was no sinkhole ...
This last story probably says too much about me as a parent. I was coming out of our room a few days ago and Owen scared me because I didn't realize he was standing in the hall. He started laughing and I promised him I'd get him back. Did I mention that I find it HILARIOUS when people get scared? Anyway, when we were downstairs getting laundry and his back was turned, I walked to the back of the room where there are no lights and just stood there. Owen knew I was back there, but couldn't see me. He repeated over and over again, "Mom! Mom? Are you back there? Mom! Come out!" I stood my ground and didn't come out. He's very smart, that Owen, and knew I wanted to scare him so he wouldn't come back to find me. Finally, his brother called him from the other room and he left his post guarding the door. I made a quick dash to the front of the laundry room and stood behind the door he was just at waiting for him to come back. He did. I waited until just the right moment and then I jumped out and scared him. The look on his face. The screech of his voice. It was priceless. I laughed so hard I fell to the floor with tears on my face. Luckily, Owen was a good sport and also fell to the floor laughing. Good times :)
So, one terrible Owen story, one funny Owen story, and one terrible Mom story. Yep, that pretty much sums up life in our household. Happy New Year!!
Today, was Costco day in the Owen Michael Paul household. I decided to be brave and took all three kids with me after work. What started as a normal and, actually, pleasant Costco trip soon turned loud and tear-worthy. Owen and Elsa were sitting "up front" in the cart and Vance sat in the main part of the cart with 50 pounds of frozen chicken and 30 rolls of paper towel.
We decided to pick up a new dog bed for Sid-Vicious because she has been sleeping on the boys extra bed and making it all dog stinky (yes, they share a twin bed, don't ask; they know there is another twin bed just waiting for one of them to sleep in it). Vance decided to get comfortable in the cart and used the new dog bed as his pillow.
After adding a few more items, I asked Vance if he was okay since he was now camoulflaged by all of our groceries. I don't think Owen was happy that Vance had a sweet pillow and a blanket made of oranges and Pledge because he decided he wanted to sit in the main cart with Vance. I tried to tell him it wasn't as fun as it looked. No dice. I told him there is no room, which there wasn't. Yep, no dice. Finally, I just said no. No, you cannot sit there, there is no room in the cart for you (or soup for you, for that matter. Owen acquired what can only be described as short term hearing loss because he didn't hear any of that. He made the decision on his own to climb out of the cart (while it was moving!).
He then tried to climb into the cart where Vance was on his own and would have succeeded if it weren't for you meddling kids. Sorry, too many Scooby Doo episodes. Anyway, he tried climbing in on his own, but I was able to stop him. That's when he decided to let me and all of Costco know how unhappy he was with my decision. We had yelling, tears, kicking, hitting, trying to climb back in over and over again. This, legitimately, went on for 15 minutes. I tried to tell him he was embarrassing himself. I told him he was embarrassing me. I told him he'd be sitting in his room when we got home. I tried to shrink away from all of the stares. You know the stares. The stares that tell you exactly what kind of parent these strangers think you are based on the way your child is behaving in Costco. Finally, FINALLY, after what seemed like an interminable amount of screaming and yelling, the food sample girls saved the day.
"Yogurt? Try our Greek yogurt. Only 90 calories and high in protein."
Owen's ears perked right up and he asked if he could have yogurt. A good mom probably would have said no. He didn't deserve it based on his behavior 11 seconds ago. However, I just wanted to get through with Costco and go home with no more temper tantrums. So, I gave in and let him and his brother and sister have the yogurt. He was fine for the rest of the trip. I don't think I want to know what this whole story says about me as a parent.
The next story is actually a little funny on Owen's part. On Sunday night, I'm sitting down watching the Golden Globes. So excited for Tina and Amy. Vance comes out of his room crying because Owen has convinced him there is a hole in the floor of their room. I told him it was a vent and he should go back to bed. That wasn't good enough and he is legitimately crying. So, I get off the couch, pause Tina and Amy, and head to casa V&O. Vance tells me that there is a hole under their bed and they will fall into it while they are asleep. At first, I laugh. I mean, really? You think there is a sinkhole that only Owen knows about big enough to swallow you, your brother, and the bed? But, Vance is really scared and cries harder when I laugh. So, I try to convince him that just the day before, I pulled the bed away from the wall to clean underneath it and there was no hole. He doesn't believe me. I try really hard to try to convince him there is no hole. But, it's no use. In his mind, there is a sinkhole waiting to devour him and nothing can change that. So, in the end, I had to have Peter come in and talk him down. I wonder how Peter convinced him there was no sinkhole ...
This last story probably says too much about me as a parent. I was coming out of our room a few days ago and Owen scared me because I didn't realize he was standing in the hall. He started laughing and I promised him I'd get him back. Did I mention that I find it HILARIOUS when people get scared? Anyway, when we were downstairs getting laundry and his back was turned, I walked to the back of the room where there are no lights and just stood there. Owen knew I was back there, but couldn't see me. He repeated over and over again, "Mom! Mom? Are you back there? Mom! Come out!" I stood my ground and didn't come out. He's very smart, that Owen, and knew I wanted to scare him so he wouldn't come back to find me. Finally, his brother called him from the other room and he left his post guarding the door. I made a quick dash to the front of the laundry room and stood behind the door he was just at waiting for him to come back. He did. I waited until just the right moment and then I jumped out and scared him. The look on his face. The screech of his voice. It was priceless. I laughed so hard I fell to the floor with tears on my face. Luckily, Owen was a good sport and also fell to the floor laughing. Good times :)
So, one terrible Owen story, one funny Owen story, and one terrible Mom story. Yep, that pretty much sums up life in our household. Happy New Year!!
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
My Sweet Boy
This blog post is to reassure my future daughter-in-law that with the mischieviousness comes some sweetness as well. Look at him. You can't get cuter than this, right?
P.S. I'm writing this post in Owen's favorite color :)
P.S. I'm writing this post in Owen's favorite color :)
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Owen Is Not ALWAYS Mischievious
Only 99.9% of the time. Hence, why there have been no blog updates since his birthday. What? That didn't make sense? Well, let me put it this way; his antics were not for sharing the past few months.
But, it's the dawning of a new era. Owen started school three weeks ago. And, get this ... his teacher LOVES him. Actually, I shouldn't say that like it's hard to believe. Everybody who meets Owen loves him. Antics aside, he is one of the sweetest, most loving, and adorable kids on the planet.
In fact, that's what this post is about. Owen being cute and not mischievious. One of my favorite things about Owen is his knack for giving himself kudos in the 3rd person. The other night at dinner, Owen reminded Peter that he and Elsa needed vitamins. Peter got up from the table to get them and Owen says, "Good call, Owen." I laughed so hard I almost spit the water I just took a sip of out of my mouth. That's my Owen.
I will end this short post with a new picture of my Owen ... on a horse. Thanks to Auntie Alex (because his mom would NEVER volunteer to go near horses, I wonder where Owen gets the 3rd person thing from), Owen was able to go for a pony ride. The kids had so much fun. And, Owen looks like a king ;)
But, it's the dawning of a new era. Owen started school three weeks ago. And, get this ... his teacher LOVES him. Actually, I shouldn't say that like it's hard to believe. Everybody who meets Owen loves him. Antics aside, he is one of the sweetest, most loving, and adorable kids on the planet.
In fact, that's what this post is about. Owen being cute and not mischievious. One of my favorite things about Owen is his knack for giving himself kudos in the 3rd person. The other night at dinner, Owen reminded Peter that he and Elsa needed vitamins. Peter got up from the table to get them and Owen says, "Good call, Owen." I laughed so hard I almost spit the water I just took a sip of out of my mouth. That's my Owen.
I will end this short post with a new picture of my Owen ... on a horse. Thanks to Auntie Alex (because his mom would NEVER volunteer to go near horses, I wonder where Owen gets the 3rd person thing from), Owen was able to go for a pony ride. The kids had so much fun. And, Owen looks like a king ;)
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Happy 4th Birthday, Owen Michael
Happy Fourth Birthday to my wonderful son, Owen Michael (and Elsa Jane, but this blog isn't about her). What better way to celebrate Owen's birthday than with an updated blog posting?
It looks like it's been almost three months since I posted last. You might think that Owen is maturing and isn't getting into as much trouble and he used to, you know, because he's four now. Nope! You'd be wrong. The reason there hasn't been any blog postings is because I CAN'T blog about Owen's latest antics. Obviously, I can't go into it here, just know he's been his usual unruly self the past few months.
Some of you may know, from hearing from us, that Owen has become somewhat of a food hoarder. I don't know if he is expecting an apocalypse (it is almost December 21, 2012, afterall) and thinks his nightstand drawer will survive with all of his goodies. Or, if he just thinks we will stop feeding him one day. Either way, he stashes food in his nightstand drawer. Mostly candy, though I did find cough drops in there last week (and six packs of gum). What will a now four year old do with six packs of gum???
The best, though, is what I found in his underwear drawer yesterday. It was a can of Kirkland's weight loss shake in chocolate. First, gross. He obviously must not have tasted it because, if he had, he wouldn't want to keep that. Second, seriously? A weight loss shake? Why does he do this? Can anyone explain this to me? When I told Peter, he questioned whether it was empty or full. Full, luckily, I can't imagine what all of that weight lossiness garbage would do to a four year old's body.
Last week, the boys had emptied their nightstand drawer and Peter noticed Owen was very protective of a box of crayons. When he investigated further, he realized the box was empty of crayons, but did contain a large number of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup miniatures. He brought said box to me and showed me the contents. I started laughing. Peter's comment to me was that Owen will probably be really good at hiding his "sandwiches" (for those How I Met Your Mother fans) when he's a teenager. Great!
Last night, the night of Owen's fourth birthday, I couldn't help but think about how much this birthday will probably be similar to his 21st birthday. Picture this; Owen in just his underwear laying on the bathroom floor complaining that he is going to throw up. On the way to lay down on the floor, he hits his head on the toilet bowl and a huge goosebump forms. How'd you get that bump? Oh, you know, throwing up, toilet bowl, not a good combination. His fourth birthday sickness was because of too many sweets. I have a feeling his 21st birthday sickness will be because of something else, but I imagine the picture will be the same.
I will leave this blog posting with an actual picture. Remember, he is only four years old (three at the time the picture was taken). I didn't climb trees as a child so I don't know if this is normal for one so young. But, as a mother, I did freak out. He was at least ten feet off the ground and would only come down once I bribed him with ... yes, you guessed it; candy.
It looks like it's been almost three months since I posted last. You might think that Owen is maturing and isn't getting into as much trouble and he used to, you know, because he's four now. Nope! You'd be wrong. The reason there hasn't been any blog postings is because I CAN'T blog about Owen's latest antics. Obviously, I can't go into it here, just know he's been his usual unruly self the past few months.
Some of you may know, from hearing from us, that Owen has become somewhat of a food hoarder. I don't know if he is expecting an apocalypse (it is almost December 21, 2012, afterall) and thinks his nightstand drawer will survive with all of his goodies. Or, if he just thinks we will stop feeding him one day. Either way, he stashes food in his nightstand drawer. Mostly candy, though I did find cough drops in there last week (and six packs of gum). What will a now four year old do with six packs of gum???
The best, though, is what I found in his underwear drawer yesterday. It was a can of Kirkland's weight loss shake in chocolate. First, gross. He obviously must not have tasted it because, if he had, he wouldn't want to keep that. Second, seriously? A weight loss shake? Why does he do this? Can anyone explain this to me? When I told Peter, he questioned whether it was empty or full. Full, luckily, I can't imagine what all of that weight lossiness garbage would do to a four year old's body.
Last week, the boys had emptied their nightstand drawer and Peter noticed Owen was very protective of a box of crayons. When he investigated further, he realized the box was empty of crayons, but did contain a large number of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup miniatures. He brought said box to me and showed me the contents. I started laughing. Peter's comment to me was that Owen will probably be really good at hiding his "sandwiches" (for those How I Met Your Mother fans) when he's a teenager. Great!
Last night, the night of Owen's fourth birthday, I couldn't help but think about how much this birthday will probably be similar to his 21st birthday. Picture this; Owen in just his underwear laying on the bathroom floor complaining that he is going to throw up. On the way to lay down on the floor, he hits his head on the toilet bowl and a huge goosebump forms. How'd you get that bump? Oh, you know, throwing up, toilet bowl, not a good combination. His fourth birthday sickness was because of too many sweets. I have a feeling his 21st birthday sickness will be because of something else, but I imagine the picture will be the same.
I will leave this blog posting with an actual picture. Remember, he is only four years old (three at the time the picture was taken). I didn't climb trees as a child so I don't know if this is normal for one so young. But, as a mother, I did freak out. He was at least ten feet off the ground and would only come down once I bribed him with ... yes, you guessed it; candy.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Seriously?
Today, while we were watching the U-M basketball game (yes, I know we were not watching our kids and this is what happens), Vance came up from the basement and said Owen was getting into trouble. I went downstairs to find the toilet plugged with an entire roll of toilet paper. Seriously?? Why? It just doesn't make sense the things he does sometimes. And, the worst part is that Vance didn't come to tell us until Owen had used the entire roll. Peter said he thinks that Vance likes to see how far Owen will go before he tells on him. I cannot believe he is only three years old and we have many more years of this. Sigh :(
Brownies
Last weekend, I made brownies, but we didn't end up eating them because Kate & Neil came up and brought homemade Snicker's. I decided to put them on top of the cupboards because Morley, our food shark, was sniffing around them.
On Sunday, Peter and I were in the basement putting together our budget for the month when we heard what sounded like a bunch of mischief coming from the kitchen. Peter said Owen was probably getting into something (surprise, surprise) and I said I'd check on him when we were done. A few minutes later I come out of the office and see Owen innocently playing with his cars in the basement. Ruh-roh.
When I get upstairs, there is Morley and he has eaten the entire pan of brownies. Owen got them down from on top of the cupboards, ate some of them (if the chocolate on his face was any indication), and then left them on the counter because he couldn't put them back up. Then, he had the nerve to tell us he "tried" to put them back. He didn't understand that he shouldn't have touched them in the first place.
Fast forward one day and Peter decides to make a new batch of brownies since we didn't get to eat the other ones. Owen, while he was alone in the kitchen, opened the oven door and took a spoonful of the not yet ready brownies out of the middle of the pan and was just about to put it in his mouth when Peter caught him. Peter was furious and sent Owen to his room. I went to talk to him and explain why his dad was upset, how he can't just open the hot oven door and stick his hand inside, etc. I told him he needed to say sorry to his dad. He yelled, "I don't like saying sorry" and slammed his bedroom door.
Awesome.
On Sunday, Peter and I were in the basement putting together our budget for the month when we heard what sounded like a bunch of mischief coming from the kitchen. Peter said Owen was probably getting into something (surprise, surprise) and I said I'd check on him when we were done. A few minutes later I come out of the office and see Owen innocently playing with his cars in the basement. Ruh-roh.
When I get upstairs, there is Morley and he has eaten the entire pan of brownies. Owen got them down from on top of the cupboards, ate some of them (if the chocolate on his face was any indication), and then left them on the counter because he couldn't put them back up. Then, he had the nerve to tell us he "tried" to put them back. He didn't understand that he shouldn't have touched them in the first place.
Fast forward one day and Peter decides to make a new batch of brownies since we didn't get to eat the other ones. Owen, while he was alone in the kitchen, opened the oven door and took a spoonful of the not yet ready brownies out of the middle of the pan and was just about to put it in his mouth when Peter caught him. Peter was furious and sent Owen to his room. I went to talk to him and explain why his dad was upset, how he can't just open the hot oven door and stick his hand inside, etc. I told him he needed to say sorry to his dad. He yelled, "I don't like saying sorry" and slammed his bedroom door.
Awesome.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Deep Thoughts
Today, after listening to Vance cry & whine because he wanted to finish watching Cars before his nap, I said that "Vance really pisses me off". Well, I accidentally said this within ear shot of Owen because I hear him say, "Daddy really pisses me off.". I tried my hardest not to laugh, but I couldn't contain myself. At least he used it properly, right?
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Target Trip
I love Target. I really do. I enjoy it when I have to make trips there. Peter doesn't enjoy it when I have to make trips there because I spend money. But, alas, there are times when you have to.
So, Peter and I had to make a quick trip into Target a few weeks ago. When I go anywhere with the kids, I try to corral them in one cart so I am not chasing after anyone. We did that during our recent trip. The only problem is that Owen didn't want to be pushed in the cart; he wanted to walk. We told him that would be okay as long as he stayed with us. Of course, he didn't. He stopped to play with toys. He ran away. He climbed out of the cart when we put him back in. You get the picture.
After having enough of his mischief, I tell Peter I will take Owen to the car and he can check out with Vance and Elsa. Owen doesn't like this idea. The entire way to the car, while I am carrying him haphazardly, he is screaming "I WANT MY DADDY" and kicking me. It absolutely looked like I was kidnapping him. I can only imagine what the people who were walking into the store thought.
I get him to the car and put him down for a second so I can unlock the doors. He darts off into the parking lot trying to get back into the store, while screaming "I WANT MY DADDY". Luckily, there were no cars when he made his break. And, that Peter came out a minute later. And, most of all, I'm lucky no one decided to call the police. That probably would have ruined Target for me.
So, Peter and I had to make a quick trip into Target a few weeks ago. When I go anywhere with the kids, I try to corral them in one cart so I am not chasing after anyone. We did that during our recent trip. The only problem is that Owen didn't want to be pushed in the cart; he wanted to walk. We told him that would be okay as long as he stayed with us. Of course, he didn't. He stopped to play with toys. He ran away. He climbed out of the cart when we put him back in. You get the picture.
After having enough of his mischief, I tell Peter I will take Owen to the car and he can check out with Vance and Elsa. Owen doesn't like this idea. The entire way to the car, while I am carrying him haphazardly, he is screaming "I WANT MY DADDY" and kicking me. It absolutely looked like I was kidnapping him. I can only imagine what the people who were walking into the store thought.
I get him to the car and put him down for a second so I can unlock the doors. He darts off into the parking lot trying to get back into the store, while screaming "I WANT MY DADDY". Luckily, there were no cars when he made his break. And, that Peter came out a minute later. And, most of all, I'm lucky no one decided to call the police. That probably would have ruined Target for me.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Owen's New Favorite Thing
I know I haven't posted in a while because Owen hasn't really done anything outlandish recently. Perhaps, he is maturing in his old age? Doubtful, I know. So, I figured I would post about Owen's new favorite activity.
I know it may be hard to believe, but Owen doesn't like to listen. In fact, I'd go so far as to say Owen's least favorite thing to do is listen to his parents or Grandma or anyone else that is an authority figure. So, when we are sitting at the dinner table and he's not eating, or feeding the dogs, or leaning back on his chair so it lands on the floor with a thud, or playing with toys at the table, or taunting his brother and sister, and we tell him he can either sit at the table or sit in his room, he chooses not to listen to us. He continues with whatever it is he is doing that is not eating his dinner. Then, either Peter or I will get up to move him to his room.
That's when he does his new favorite activity. He runs away from us screaming NO! Our living room has a circular path around our couch. Owen uses this to his advantage and makes us chase him around and around, all the while screaming NO. He doesn't say it. He doesn't even slightly yell it. He actually screams it, while he is running. Are you kidding me? And, of course, Peter and I chase him. It usually takes us two or three times around the couch before we catch him.
Can you imagine that scene? Owen has us, literally, running in circles. And, he is laughing and screaming NO. The worst part is that, at times, it is so ridiculous to me that I start laughing. This is probably the reason he keeps doing it. I just don't understand why he constantly has us on our toes. Will this ever change? And, when will that be?
I know it may be hard to believe, but Owen doesn't like to listen. In fact, I'd go so far as to say Owen's least favorite thing to do is listen to his parents or Grandma or anyone else that is an authority figure. So, when we are sitting at the dinner table and he's not eating, or feeding the dogs, or leaning back on his chair so it lands on the floor with a thud, or playing with toys at the table, or taunting his brother and sister, and we tell him he can either sit at the table or sit in his room, he chooses not to listen to us. He continues with whatever it is he is doing that is not eating his dinner. Then, either Peter or I will get up to move him to his room.
That's when he does his new favorite activity. He runs away from us screaming NO! Our living room has a circular path around our couch. Owen uses this to his advantage and makes us chase him around and around, all the while screaming NO. He doesn't say it. He doesn't even slightly yell it. He actually screams it, while he is running. Are you kidding me? And, of course, Peter and I chase him. It usually takes us two or three times around the couch before we catch him.
Can you imagine that scene? Owen has us, literally, running in circles. And, he is laughing and screaming NO. The worst part is that, at times, it is so ridiculous to me that I start laughing. This is probably the reason he keeps doing it. I just don't understand why he constantly has us on our toes. Will this ever change? And, when will that be?
Monday, October 31, 2011
Mischievous Monday
Well, really it was Friday, but I like the way Mischievous Monday sounds so I'm going to pretend this was a Monday.
So, last Monday, Peter, Owen, and I picked up pizza for dinner (Elsa and Vance were at Grandma Nancy's before anyone assumes we left them home with the dogs). While Peter was inside getting the pizza, Owen and I had the following conversation:
Me: Owen, were you a good boy for Daddy today?
Owen: (Silence)
Me: Owen, were you a good boy for daddy today?
Owen: Ummm, no
Me: You weren't a good boy for Daddy today?
Owen: Ummm, no
Me: What did you do that you weren't a good boy for Daddy today?
Owen: (Silence)
Me: Owen, why weren't you a good boy?
Owen: (Silence)
Now, at this point, I am amazed that Owen fessed up. To what I'm not exactly sure. But, usually he tells me he's been a good boy when he hasn't quite lived up to that. When Peter gets back in the car, I ask him if Owen acted up. Peter groans and then fills me in.
They went to the grocery store to get chocolate chips, among other things. The kids like putting the groceries on the conveyor belt. Peter didn't notice until after he was leaving that Owen stole the chocolate chips. They turned around and went back to the service counter. Owen was holding onto the chocolate chip bag pretty tight, but Peter managed to get it away from Owen, where it proceeded to drop chocolate chips all over the floor. Not only did Owen steal the chocolate chips, he opened them.
Peter cleaned up the mess and paid for our partial bag of chocolate chips. When they were walking out of the store again, Peter noticed Owen had his hands in fists at his side. Peter asked Owen to open his hands. No dice. Peter asked Owen if he had anything in his hands. His answer was no. Finally, Peter pried Owen's hands open and found two handfuls of chocolate chips. I am not sure if the chocolate was melted to add to the mess, but I'm sure it wasn't a super easy clean up.
As if that wasn't enough, Peter came home from his run later that day to find Owen and Elsa running back and forth in the back of the house with a bunch of bandaids. They found Grandma Nancy's bandaid stash and had a bandaid party on a sleeping Vance. I didn't realize bandaid parties were such fun, but now that I know, I must try it.
I am keeping my fingers crossed that Elsa's mischief in the bandaid party was a fluke and this doesn't turn into a future daughter and son in law blog.
So, last Monday, Peter, Owen, and I picked up pizza for dinner (Elsa and Vance were at Grandma Nancy's before anyone assumes we left them home with the dogs). While Peter was inside getting the pizza, Owen and I had the following conversation:
Me: Owen, were you a good boy for Daddy today?
Owen: (Silence)
Me: Owen, were you a good boy for daddy today?
Owen: Ummm, no
Me: You weren't a good boy for Daddy today?
Owen: Ummm, no
Me: What did you do that you weren't a good boy for Daddy today?
Owen: (Silence)
Me: Owen, why weren't you a good boy?
Owen: (Silence)
Now, at this point, I am amazed that Owen fessed up. To what I'm not exactly sure. But, usually he tells me he's been a good boy when he hasn't quite lived up to that. When Peter gets back in the car, I ask him if Owen acted up. Peter groans and then fills me in.
They went to the grocery store to get chocolate chips, among other things. The kids like putting the groceries on the conveyor belt. Peter didn't notice until after he was leaving that Owen stole the chocolate chips. They turned around and went back to the service counter. Owen was holding onto the chocolate chip bag pretty tight, but Peter managed to get it away from Owen, where it proceeded to drop chocolate chips all over the floor. Not only did Owen steal the chocolate chips, he opened them.
Peter cleaned up the mess and paid for our partial bag of chocolate chips. When they were walking out of the store again, Peter noticed Owen had his hands in fists at his side. Peter asked Owen to open his hands. No dice. Peter asked Owen if he had anything in his hands. His answer was no. Finally, Peter pried Owen's hands open and found two handfuls of chocolate chips. I am not sure if the chocolate was melted to add to the mess, but I'm sure it wasn't a super easy clean up.
As if that wasn't enough, Peter came home from his run later that day to find Owen and Elsa running back and forth in the back of the house with a bunch of bandaids. They found Grandma Nancy's bandaid stash and had a bandaid party on a sleeping Vance. I didn't realize bandaid parties were such fun, but now that I know, I must try it.
I am keeping my fingers crossed that Elsa's mischief in the bandaid party was a fluke and this doesn't turn into a future daughter and son in law blog.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Hide and Seek
I know it's been a while since I've posted. Owen has had a few funny stories, but most have to be told verbally. Writing them down would be a bad idea. Let me just say, he is very creative (building a wall of chairs, toy boxes, etc. to block me from coming up the stairs) when he wants to get into something he knows he shouldn't. He's also super quick, which is exactly what I would expect of him.
This story isn't funny, but it goes along with his personality so I figured I would share it anyway.
We went to the Tigers game for Star Wars day a week ago. I took Owen to the bathroom with Michelle and Max. Michelle comes out of the bathroom and says, "Where's Owen?" I turn around. Owen's gone. We leave the bathroom to try to find him. He's not outside. I go back in and check the stalls. He's not there. At the exact moment where I am really starting to lose it, Mike, Shanon, and Kate all come down coincidentally. I tell them I can't find Owen and we all begin searching.
It has been maybe five minutes since I've seen him last, but it felt like five days. I am going out of my mind with worry. We have split up and are searching everywhere. Just as Michelle is talking to security, a nice couple come down from their seats five sections away from ours and the woman is carrying Owen. Mike taps me on the shoulder and points to them. I run, crying, and take Owen out of the woman's arms. I am balling at this point, unable to catch my breath, only saying over and over again how thankful I am. I hear nothing else when Mike talks to them.
Luckily, Mike is with me and the couple tell him that Owen wandered up the stairs in their section and they figured out he was alone and were bringing him to Security. I wish I had enough clarity to tell them how much I appreciated their help. I didn't. I was balling my eyes out. We found Kate and Michelle before Security put out an alert. I was shaking, but was able to make it up the stairs to tell Peter what happened.
It was the scariest five minutes of my life. We lucked out and a nice couple found him. I know it could have been worse. Everyone who I tell this story to asks what Owen did, whether he said anything or was scared. Nope! He was quiet. I don't think he even realized he was lost. One of my coworkers said she's not a huge fan of parents who put leashes on their kids, but she thinks maybe it'd be a good idea if we did. I tend to agree.
P.S. So, I at least put a bit of funny in this post, I have a story about Vance. Vance started kindergarten two weeks ago. He met a friend, Grace, who he likes because she is pretty. He told Peter he wanted Grace to come to our house to play. Peter said to ask me. Then, Vance said she could stay the night ... she'd sleep in his bed. Peter mumbled something about girls and boys sleeping in separate rooms and then dropped it. Perhaps Owen isn't my only worry???
This story isn't funny, but it goes along with his personality so I figured I would share it anyway.
We went to the Tigers game for Star Wars day a week ago. I took Owen to the bathroom with Michelle and Max. Michelle comes out of the bathroom and says, "Where's Owen?" I turn around. Owen's gone. We leave the bathroom to try to find him. He's not outside. I go back in and check the stalls. He's not there. At the exact moment where I am really starting to lose it, Mike, Shanon, and Kate all come down coincidentally. I tell them I can't find Owen and we all begin searching.
It has been maybe five minutes since I've seen him last, but it felt like five days. I am going out of my mind with worry. We have split up and are searching everywhere. Just as Michelle is talking to security, a nice couple come down from their seats five sections away from ours and the woman is carrying Owen. Mike taps me on the shoulder and points to them. I run, crying, and take Owen out of the woman's arms. I am balling at this point, unable to catch my breath, only saying over and over again how thankful I am. I hear nothing else when Mike talks to them.
Luckily, Mike is with me and the couple tell him that Owen wandered up the stairs in their section and they figured out he was alone and were bringing him to Security. I wish I had enough clarity to tell them how much I appreciated their help. I didn't. I was balling my eyes out. We found Kate and Michelle before Security put out an alert. I was shaking, but was able to make it up the stairs to tell Peter what happened.
It was the scariest five minutes of my life. We lucked out and a nice couple found him. I know it could have been worse. Everyone who I tell this story to asks what Owen did, whether he said anything or was scared. Nope! He was quiet. I don't think he even realized he was lost. One of my coworkers said she's not a huge fan of parents who put leashes on their kids, but she thinks maybe it'd be a good idea if we did. I tend to agree.
P.S. So, I at least put a bit of funny in this post, I have a story about Vance. Vance started kindergarten two weeks ago. He met a friend, Grace, who he likes because she is pretty. He told Peter he wanted Grace to come to our house to play. Peter said to ask me. Then, Vance said she could stay the night ... she'd sleep in his bed. Peter mumbled something about girls and boys sleeping in separate rooms and then dropped it. Perhaps Owen isn't my only worry???
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Candy Bar Joyride Was a Premonition???
I guess when Owen decides to take a short hiatus from trouble, it's because he's been storing up for something really good. I am still in shock from the story Peter just told me. Luckily, Owen didn't think everything through.
Peter was downstairs balancing our checkbook when Vance came to him and said Owen and Elsa were in the car. Peter said that was impossible because the car doors were locked. Vance assured Peter that he wasn't make it up. Peter goes upstairs and one of the bar stools is pushed to the wall that holds all of our keys.
In the garage, there are Owen and Elsa sitting in the car. This means two things for Owen. One, he knew which keys to grab (Explorer not Focus). Maybe it was just luck. And, two, he knew which button to unlock the doors. I imagine Peter would have heard the horn blaring if Owen used the wrong button.
So, Peter tells them to get out. What does Owen do? He starts the car. Are you fricking kidding me???? I almost had a heart attack at this point in the story because, even though I was talking to Peter and knew he got them out without any kind of incident, I imagined maybe Owen slipped it into reverse and backed out of the garage a bit. Or worse, put it in drive and went through the garage wall.
No, luckily, Owen didn't think everything through and forgot to shut the door. I know, right? Rookie mistake. Peter turned off the car, grabbed the kids, locked the doors, and, I imagine, hid the keys.
Owen is three years old. He knows how to start a car. This isn't funny anymore, is it? I should be worried :(
Peter was downstairs balancing our checkbook when Vance came to him and said Owen and Elsa were in the car. Peter said that was impossible because the car doors were locked. Vance assured Peter that he wasn't make it up. Peter goes upstairs and one of the bar stools is pushed to the wall that holds all of our keys.
In the garage, there are Owen and Elsa sitting in the car. This means two things for Owen. One, he knew which keys to grab (Explorer not Focus). Maybe it was just luck. And, two, he knew which button to unlock the doors. I imagine Peter would have heard the horn blaring if Owen used the wrong button.
So, Peter tells them to get out. What does Owen do? He starts the car. Are you fricking kidding me???? I almost had a heart attack at this point in the story because, even though I was talking to Peter and knew he got them out without any kind of incident, I imagined maybe Owen slipped it into reverse and backed out of the garage a bit. Or worse, put it in drive and went through the garage wall.
No, luckily, Owen didn't think everything through and forgot to shut the door. I know, right? Rookie mistake. Peter turned off the car, grabbed the kids, locked the doors, and, I imagine, hid the keys.
Owen is three years old. He knows how to start a car. This isn't funny anymore, is it? I should be worried :(
The Hose ... Again
Owen has been mostly quiet as of late. Sure, he has randomly gone to the bathroom outside and asked if I was drinking a whole glass of tequila (it was wine). But, nothing big enough to blog about. I guess there was one thing, but we're keeping that on the DL because it's not a funny story, but a scary one.
So, Owen has been quiet. Has he turned a corner? Does he realize he is three now and should start acting his age not his shoe size? Wait, his shoe size is a nine so I guess that doesn't make sense for him right now.
Anyway, we have had our windows open the last few days because it hasn't been 95 degrees AND our energy bill was ridiculous for the month if July. Thanks a lot, heat! I was not home to witness this, but I felt the after effects a few hours later. Elsa was in her room doing whatever she does (plays with her jewelry, barbies, hair ties, etc.). Owen was outside doing what he does (going to the bathroom, picking unripe strawberries and tomatoes, turning on the hose, etc.). Apparently, Owen saw Elsa in her room and decided to play a little prank on his sister. Does he know what a prank is? I doubt it. Maybe he was just being mean because he thought it was funny.
What did Owen do? He started spraying the hose through Elsa's open bedroom window and soaked Elsa and her entire floor. Peter came in and yelled for him to stop. Of course, Owen doesn't listen to anyone he doesn't want to listen to. So, he didn't. Peter ran out of the house, jumped over the railing of the deck, and, just when he was about to grab the hose, Owen realized he should stop. He dropped the hose and ran.
Elsa's carpet was still wet when I got home a few hours later. I didn't think twice about it when I noticed it. I mean, they're kids, they probably spilled some water or something. But then, Peter told me the story and I realized this was Owen's doing. Awesome.
So, Owen has been quiet. Has he turned a corner? Does he realize he is three now and should start acting his age not his shoe size? Wait, his shoe size is a nine so I guess that doesn't make sense for him right now.
Anyway, we have had our windows open the last few days because it hasn't been 95 degrees AND our energy bill was ridiculous for the month if July. Thanks a lot, heat! I was not home to witness this, but I felt the after effects a few hours later. Elsa was in her room doing whatever she does (plays with her jewelry, barbies, hair ties, etc.). Owen was outside doing what he does (going to the bathroom, picking unripe strawberries and tomatoes, turning on the hose, etc.). Apparently, Owen saw Elsa in her room and decided to play a little prank on his sister. Does he know what a prank is? I doubt it. Maybe he was just being mean because he thought it was funny.
What did Owen do? He started spraying the hose through Elsa's open bedroom window and soaked Elsa and her entire floor. Peter came in and yelled for him to stop. Of course, Owen doesn't listen to anyone he doesn't want to listen to. So, he didn't. Peter ran out of the house, jumped over the railing of the deck, and, just when he was about to grab the hose, Owen realized he should stop. He dropped the hose and ran.
Elsa's carpet was still wet when I got home a few hours later. I didn't think twice about it when I noticed it. I mean, they're kids, they probably spilled some water or something. But then, Peter told me the story and I realized this was Owen's doing. Awesome.
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