Santa or Satan?

Weird/fun facts about this encounter:

1. Santa’s name was Marvin.  We know this because “Mrs. Claus” yelled it at him.

2. This is put on by the Holland Civic Theater.  They are a theater company and this is the best actor they could get for Santa?  Really?

3. I don’t think Santa…I mean MARVIN…likes kids.

4. Mrs. Claus, bless her soul, was very sweet and did everything she could.

5. My son is wearing a polar bear sweater.  Shut up.  I like Christmas sweaters on the little guy.  See?

6. Thank all the 8 reindeer and Rudolf we were the only ones there.  Otherwise I am afraid Eddie would have convinced the other children that Santa’s lap was made of rusty nails.

7. Clearly I am the only one having fun here…and that isn’t even real.  I was having NO fun.  I am just a better actor than Santa aka Marvin.

ahem.

Please tell my your kid does/did this too.  please.

Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

Ok so Kimbery over at All Work and no Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something confesses stuff on Saturdays.  It’s not an actual meme, just something she does.

But I thought since I am all out of things to say (actually, I’m not…I just can’t get in the mood to write about any of them right now), that I would participate since I DO have a confession.

And it is this:

I let my kid watch TV all the dang time.

That’s right.  The TV is rarely off in this house.  Ever.

See?  Even from Eddie’s beginning we had that darn TV on constantly.  This area of our house is where Eddie has been pretty much raised.  It’s our living room.  It has a TV.  Hence the boy is in front of the TV a LOT.

There it is.  On again in the background of tummy time last summer.  By 4 months this kid probably knew all the Tigers and their position.  And that they suck.

He even learned to roll himself over on his tummy and fall asleep when we were losing.  Smart boy.  Although I am starting to wonder if not only did I let him watch TV too much, but I had him on the floor too much too.  huh.

Here we are…more recent.  This is probably just a month or so ago.  At least we decided that if the TV was going to be on?  Perhaps we should have kid-appropriate shows on.  For awhile Eddie was watching whatever we had on…and I am guessing Gangland on the History Channel is probably not the most appropriate show for a 15 month old.

This kid loves his TV shows.  In fact, the other night after he went to bed?  I realized there were NO shows on the Tivo for me to watch.  It was FILLED with Eddie’s programming.

The fact that we have Dora on demand constantly is maybe not healthy.

So we have turned off the TV from time to time (it’s off right now and it’s WAY to quiet in the house.  I am all creeped out).

But then this happens…

Yup.  Sesame Street on my laptop.

Sigh.

The boy loves TV.

The boy is quiet when we put the TV on.

The boy signs “more” when his Tivo-ed program ends.

It’s cute.

And did I mention he is quiet?

Oh man…what did I create?

Wacky Wednesday

Ok, so I usually try to do Wordless Wednesday, but my week has been all wacky so far.  Good things, weird things…just wacky.

Here is a brief rundown…

My brother got engaged!  Yay!  This is HUGE, people.  He and his fiance have a 5 and a half year old together.  This story is long, complicated and beautiful.  I will have to share this story with you, if they give me permission.

We had some VERY bizarre weather yesterday.  We woke up to tornado watches, storm and wind warnings, all out madness.  Many schools closed due to the watches; not ours.  We braved those wild winds and pursued education in spite of the crazy weather.  And in turn, we were rewarded with tornado sirens going off at the beginning of fourth hour driving us into the hallway to take cover.  For most of the hour.  Then, just as we were released back to class?  Four minutes later they re-issued the warning, forcing us back into the hallway into lunch.  To say yesterday was messed up is an understatement.

My son is addicted to Sesame Street.  More specifically he is addicted to sitting on my lap and watching song videos from Sesame Street on my computer.  If he sees me get anywhere NEAR my laptop, he whines and pulls at me until I put him on my lap and youtube his favorites.

In fact, this is the one he likes best.  I like it too because it helps me remember that I can make it through the hard stuff.  That’s right.  I get inspired by Sesame Street on the daily.  What of it?

Oh and also?  I am over at Not Super…Just Mom helping my girl Miranda wrap up and super long, tough month that she has dubbed Hellmonth.  I depart from my usual PG rating, so beware, but go read.  I don’t want to be lonely over there!

Here is hoping for a calmer second half to the week!

Getting Pooped On

I am going to let you in on something Sluiter Nation has been doing for three years now.  It’s a little game Cortney and I made up that relieves stress and brings on a serious case of the giggles just when we need it.

It has to do with poop.

That, my friends, is a fake turd I picked up when I was helping a friend shop at a novelty shop.  She needed dorky award thingys for her seniors.  I didn’t need anything.  But I found the fake yucky stuff section and this little poo needed to come home with me.

Of course I didn’t tell Cortney I bought it.  I just put it on his pillow (like the dramatization shot above), and then quietly went about my evening routine.  As I was brushing my teeth, he walked into our room to get his pj’s on.  That is when I heard, “Aw man, LOUIS!!!  GROSS!”  He totally thought the cat did it!

That’s when he saw me falling over myself (and my toothbrush) in the doorway to our room.  I managed to gasp out that it was fake.

He vowed to get me back.

And that is how the poop game began.

Once in his possession, he had free reign of hiding it anywhere that I would find it.

When it is found?  The rule is you have to say, “Aw, who pooped on my ______”.

The poop has been in my bathing suit, in the bread, in coffee cups, in lunch boxes, on Eddie’s changing table, in the coffee maker, in my water bottle, in Cort’s laptop bag…it is really quite endless.

And of course, once found, the poop changes hands and the poop placer now waits to become the poop victim.

Cort and I have had a lot of figurative poop happen in our lives over the five and a half years that we have been married.  We honestly try to keep a positive attitude and realize that it can’t be forever.

But in the meantime?  We laugh.  And if we need fake poop to laugh?  So be it.

Ok so maybe that last picture was too far.  But you get what I’m saying.  Laugh or cry.  We choose laugh.

By the way, if you are loving the Top Ten Tuesdays, this week will be Top Ten vacation memories!  Write it up and come back and link up on Tuesday!

The Story of Two

Thursday night was the first night since going back to work that Eddie and I have been left alone together.

Cort had class, so he left right around 5:00pm and Eddie cried.  He clung to the gate and banged on the front window as he watched his daddy–his majority-of-the-time caretaker leave him.

And then he looked at me.

And cried harder.  nice.

So I thought I would make him dinner. some fruit, a couple raw veggies and a nice grilled pizza sandwich (it’s like a grilled cheese, but with pizza stuff.  So like a hobo pie, but not over a fire.  Get it?).

While I am trying to heat the pan and assemble the food, Eddie feels the need to be all underfoot and in the way.  Then he tries to “help” by turning the knobs on the gas stove.  Sigh…

So I reach in the baking tools drawer and hand him one of those rubber spatulas that you use to scrape the last bit of brownie batter out of the bowl to get in your mouth the pan.  He happily toddles away with it feeling oh so important that I entrusted him with a kitchen tool.

I go back to the pizza sandwiches at hand.  I get his going and I cut up the rest of his dinner.  Then I go to flip his and he is right back under my feet again!

So I mumble, “Ok Ed, come on.  Where is your…”

And then I see it.

The Spatula.  Or…the remains of it.

At this point I scoop up the spatula, the boy, and the phone and frantically calmly dial my parents’ phone number.

After I get my mom on the phone, this conversation unfolds:

Me: OHMYGOD, MOM!  Eddie just ate ATE a rubber spatula!  What do I do?  Is he going to get sick?  Will he die?  MOM, WHAT DO I DO?!?!

Mom: What?

Me: You know.  those rubber spatulas for baking?  Eddie took BITES…WHOLE BITES…out of one I let him play with!

Mom: I am sure he’s fine.  I mean, they’re food-safe and all.

Me: MOM!  It’s RUBBER!  In his little tummy?  You don’t think he’s going to get sick?

(meanwhile Eddie is on my hip totally happy to be held and not caring about the spatula or the crazy freak-out his mother has become)

Mom: I am sure it will be just like when aunt Sandy ate a quarter and grandma had to watch her poop.  It will be fine.

(at this point I spot specks on the carpet).

Me: I think I just found some on the floor.  Maybe he didn’t swallow it. UGGG.  My first night with him alone and he EATS A SPATULA!  This is why we can’t have nice things!  So do you think he didn’t swallow it?

Mom:  Well, probably not.  I am sure it didn’t taste good, so he spit it out.

Me: Then why did he continue to TAKE BITES?

(now my mom is laughing so hard she can barely speak.  This is our relationship.  I freak out?  She gets her giggles in for the day).

Mom: (in between bouts of riotous laughter) Who knows?  He’s a KID!  You ate everything.  Your crib, Little People, THE CAR.

Me:

Mom: (is still laughing.  and? I can  hear my dad chuckling in the background too.)

Me: I have to go finish his dinner.  So you think he’ll be fine.

Mom:  (starting to laugh all over again) yes.

So I made Eddie’s dinner.   He ate like a champ.  I threw away the stupid spatula that was so funny and thought about how Eddie eats everything too.  His crib (my mom had three of us in that crib of hers.  I was the only one to eat it), his little people, the spatula.  I shook my head.

Fast forward to bedtime. 

I have gathered the little guy (who showed no signs of being bothered by the spatula-eating.  Nor did he show remorse.  Hmmm)  and we headed to the rocking chair.

I watched as he curled in against me and took his lamby up close to his face.

He found the lamby’s ear and held it between his finger and thumb (while never letting go of the body of the lamby with his other hand).  He started rubbing the ear between his finger and thumb and pulled it right up under his nose.

Just like I used to do.

After about 15 minutes of rocking (5 to get him to sleep and 10 just for me to cuddle him), I set him in his bed.  And I just stood there for a couple minutes.

In his sleep he rolled and pulled his blanket up to his nose and got on his stomach/side and kicked his legs out so that he was sprawled as far out as he could be.

I chuckled at what a little bed hog he is.

Just like me.

I’m told by almost everyone we see how much he LOOKS like his daddy.  He is so similar to what Cort looked like at this age:  blond curly hair, big squishy cheeks, small little kissable mouth.

But it’s the small moments when I realize this little Sluiter boy?  Is his momma’s boy all the way.

He is loud, demanding, controlling, snuggley, kind, and loving.

And he is my little Eddie Bear.

We are quite the pair.

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