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.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
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.
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