The last stage of "baby"

As many of you already know, Freddie lost his first tooth.

I knew this was coming whether I liked it or not. And no matter how much I tried to keep him little (you know, since this is something I could do... ). I was only fighting myself. The countless conversations of Scotty P telling me he's not a baby, you're looking at it all wrong, look at who he is now and who he will become, to the break downs when I see his baby pictures and how easy it was to have him by my side at all times.. 

With Freddie being my baby and this being the beginning to our new stages in life, I am sad, excited, worried, and can't say I am truly ready. I know losing teeth won't change who he is, and it's a process we all went through - but it's the stage I fought the most.

Potty training - FUCK YES, as quickly as I could. I was well over diapers by the time he was 1. Good thing he was an easy train. 

Eating Solids - YES. PLEASE. This kid wasn't (and still isn't a picky eater) it made my life easy.

Walking.. Talking... done!

Losing his teeth and knowing this is the last stage for him has honestly hit me harder than most. 

Freddie is my best friend, and at times, has been my rock. Through the divorce, he was my escape from all things horrible going on. We were a team. Now, we are a team with a few more players.

I know him growing will only bring us closer and will allow us to experience more things, but as a mom and him being my only (birth) child - I worry that one day he is going to look at me and tell me he doesn't need me anymore. Now, is this realistic? No. Is it rational? No. But it's a fear - and nothing realistic or rational ever comes out of fear.

So a big deep breath (or fifty) is what I take and I accept the fact that just because we are out of "baby" doesn't mean the world will end. It doesn't mean he will ask me to go away - he's 6, he still needs me. He will just need me in different ways. If anything it's opening new doors for us. 

He dances more, he sings more, he babbles on and on about anything he can more, he loves more, he kisses more, and no matter what he will always be Momma's boy. 

Pet replacement

Our kids have such amazing innocence that sometimes I wish I still had it as well. In the last two weeks we have lost a fish and a hamster, and the kids still haven't figured out we have replaced them.

The fish a couple of weeks ago, was pretty much on it's last leg. Now this Beta has been around for about 2-3 years. Longer than we ever expected. He finally passed and the kids marveled on about how much he slept that day. That night when everyone was in bed, Scotty P. headed out to the store and replaced him (as closely as he could). Luckily, our kids aren't very observant either... The next day they marveled about how much he swam (because the other one barely moved during the day) and he must have caught up on all his energy.

Yesterday, the kids kept mentioning how much the hamster was sleeping during the day. He usually slept during the day, but when they talked to him, he would perk up. A few minutes later, Scotty P. comes to me and says - well, the hamster is dead. Awesome. 

Now most parents, probably would just talk to their kids about death at this time, but two things happened here - 1. we just got him three weeks ago and 2. we think Petra may have killed him by body slamming the cage while she was "watching Petra TV". 

The first thing that came to our mind is, CRAP. How are we going to find one that looks like the former "Turbo"?! 

Mad scramble to get the kids out of the house and to pray and hope the pet store has one pretty similar. I take the kids out for grocery shopping and Scotty P heads straight to the pet store. 30 minutes go by and I get a text with a picture - Turbo 2.0.

Lessons learned with the hamster? 1. Put the cage up higher where Petra can't body slam the cage when she gets excited. 2. Hope the kids never become observant because this hamster is considerably larger than Turbo 1.0 and a LOT more active. (Now honestly, this hamster looks pretty damn close to the original one it would have taken me a while to figure out the difference.)

We know when time comes, we will not be able to do this anymore, especially when our Kiki-monster goes to Dog Heaven. It will be at that time we will have to sit them down and talk to them about death and teach them how to handle it the best for them. 

And who knows, they may be more accepting and aware of death than what we give them credit for at this moment. Which I hope they are, and when the time comes to talk to them about it, I hope they understand and realize it's part of life and the cycle we live and there is nothing we can do to stop the inevitable, even if we want to. 

My pee was wrong.

The one thing I learned early on with just one child was talking about pee, poop, and farts was never going to be off boundaries. Freddie will be 30+ and still telling me how his bowel movements are. Which is fine. But, now with three children we hear all sorts of random noises.

For example, we know when Abi is taking a dump because she sings or she's up to something in the bathroom I will later find. Most of the time it's the first one. 

Freddie is just a die hard pee fan. You should know by now, I'm not joking. When we get home from school routine is - Freddie comes in, puts his stuff in the kitchen, and bolts to the bathroom. He will then announce - "Don't worry Mommy, I have had enough to drink today, my pee told me."

The other day, Freddie came in, does his routine, and he says, "Mommy, I have not had enough water today. My pee told me so." I gave Freddie some water and about 5 minutes later he runs back to the bathroom. He comes out and says, "Everything is going to be fine, Mommy. My pee was lying to me, I do have enough water."

I don't know why Freddie feels the need to tell me not to worry, I have never once "freaked out" over his pee and if he has a bladder the size of a peanut. That was only a 5 minute break between them. Logic tells me, it's because maybe he wasn't completely finished the first time around, but why be logical.

At least I have nothing to worry about, and if I ever do, Freddie will be sure to announce it to everyone.

I hope you didn't wear that in public...

Something we stress for our girls is what is acceptable and what is not acceptable when it comes to clothing. It's tough enough they are girls, they are adorable and we are already preparing to beat boys off them, we don't need them dressing like prostitutes either. 

When we are in the house we aren't too strict about what gets worn because it's in the privacy of our house. When we go into public we always make sure the girls are dressed reasonably. 

One of these things would be no overly short dresses/skirts. Now, I understand now days it seems to be completely difficult to find anything that is longer than their asses (thank you society and your need to look like hookers), so the fix to this is shorts underneath or they just don't wear it. 

Now, it's been hella hot lately and I was home chilling out for the day. I have a pajama dress that's silk, flowy, and was as the most comfortable thing I could find in the 95 degree weather. I feel it was a reasonable length. So I thought.... 

I am in the bedroom putting away my work for the day, and Livie comes up to me and says, "Your dress is beautiful BUT it's way too short. I hope you didn't wear that out in public today, Momma."

It's good to know they listen... 

Now I know why the dog's breath smells so bad.

Freddie was watching Petra the other day and she wag cleaning herself.  Freddie looked at me,  looked at her,  and looked back at me and said - no wonder why her breath smells so bad. She's kicking her butt and get non-penis*.

So,  just in case you're wondering why your animals breath smells, now you know.

*For those of you who don't know,  Freddie still calls the vagina: non-penis.  He had never asked for the proper term nor have I bothered to give it to him.  I think I'd is funny it is a non-penis. When he asks,  I'll let him know.

To laugh or not to laugh....

Abi happens to have this habit of sticking her head in between the stair railings and getting stuck.

Now keep in mind we live in an older house where the stair rails are not to code to today's width apart requirements to prevent this hilarity.... I mean tragedy. 

Last month,  Abi thought it would be a good idea to say good night to Livie by sticking her head through said rails.  This ended up getting her stuck.... and screaming like there was no tomorrow. 

I managed to get her loose and to remove her head.  She promised she would not do it again. We figured after that scare she would be better about it and not attempt this trick again.

Was.  I. Wrong.  Today as she was talking to my ex-husband, she was sitting on the second floor and stuck her head between the bars.  He drops Corbin off and leaves.  As we are all headed up stairs Abi starts screaming again. Guess who is stuck?

This time she managed to get herself loose and vane crying to me for sympathy.  Wrong move.  Instead she got sent to get room for breaking the rule and Scotty P would deal with her when he got back. After about 10 minutes he returned and I told him what happened. He started laughing and said - isn't it punishment enough that she did it and scared herself. Obviously not. Because had it been then she would have learned from the FIRST time she did this.

Every time Scotty P went to head over her he started laughing. I have to be honest, it's fucking hilarious.

After his talk with her, she came in and promised me she would never do it again.

No.  No she wont. Because if she does I'm leaving her there and I made it very clear that it no one would save her from her own stupidity.

I give it two months and she'll be stuck again.

Face, meet cake.

Somewhere over the last year, it has become tradition our children smash their faces into their birthday cakes. We aren't exactly sure where this tradition came from, but we do know Livie started it last year, when she dunked her head into her orange cake with purple lettering... needless to say, but I'm going to anyways, her face ended up stained orange and purple.

Livie, the trend setter, on her 8th birthday.

Well yesterday, our middle child turned 7. (My first words to Scotty P yesterday was, oh shit, we have 8, 7, and 6 in the house. We are fucked.)

Abi was all for smashing her head into the ice cream cake, but when push came to shove she just stood there and debated it. So she had a little help from Daddy...maybe next year she will just do it instead of getting the help.

**It's a bit loud, I'd turn it down** Also, I couldn't stop laughing. Mother of the Year.

And this is the end result.

Happy Birthday Abi, we love you and can't wait to see how much more fun will be had over the years.