I had to haul X-Man out of a friend's house. He was kicking and screaming and demanding to be returned to "Nemo." Nemo was a blue fish, definitely NOT a clown fish. But he was fascinating and X-Man loved him. I was perplexed by the name choice, only because X-Man has seen Finding Nemo once. And apparently "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" didn't make an impression.

After half a year in cub scouts, the father figure finally got him his uniform. I helped. I helped by getting lost on the the way to futsal one day and stumbling upon the scout store. Then I was able to tell the father figure....it's over here somewhere.

So Mac was uniformed up. Sort of. There's a bit more to the uniform than buttoning up the shirt and tucking it in. There are patches that need to be sewn on. At this point I realized, or remembered, that I was completely clueless. I assumed there was a reason why I had two different number patches and maybe they meant something as well. Also, there was a neckerchief. I was pretty sure the neckerchief wasn't supposed to be sewn to the collar, but then again, these are boys we are talking about. And there was a giant ring thing. After arranging the patches in an eye pleasing pattern, it occurred to me that this being a uniform, there might be a rhyme and reason to the arrangement of patches that I should be aware of before I started sewing. Also, there's a lot more about sewing I should probably know. I also wondered if the father figure had sought iron on patches because that would have bought him countless bonus points. And I am certai
n he would like those.

So Mac went to the meeting, sans patches and neckerchief with a large ring thing in his pocket because I figured it had something to do with the thing that was supposed to go around his neck. Or it was his secret decoder ring. Where was the father figure in all of this? The Eagle Scout father figure? Working. So I couldn't really be annoyed with him. But we were not presenting an impressive picture here.

Walking in I saw that Mac was the only boy wearing a uniform. At all. Apparently we were left off the email suggesting that due to power tools usage or something, uniforms not be worn. An auspicious start to his uniform wearing days for sure.

It's been a hard year.

Today the father figure's maternal grandmother died. Grandma Sugar, as he called her because she always called him "sugar", was a lovely lady. I didn't know her as well as Grandma Nonna. Grandma Sugar was a quiet, dignified woman. She was sweet and caring. Like Nonna, Grandma Sugar had six children, she too buried a child. And like Nonna, Grandma Sugar didn't let heartbreak defeat her. Rather, she took in her grandson and raised him herself.

 Grandma Sugar had 14 grandchildren and who knows how many great grandchildren. Well, Grandma Sugar knew. I was always surprised when valentines and birthday cards arrived promptly. I knew there were plenty of great grandchildren out there, along with grandchildren and spouses, but Grandma Sugar didn't ever seem to forget. Her letters would come with quotation marks around the names, the only other person I've ever seen do that was her daughter, my mother in law.

I loved visiting with her and watching her interact with her grandchildren. She'd talk with them and chuckle with delight as they explained whatever it was they were super excited about. Once she offered two year old Mac a couple of Oreo cookies. Because she was indeed Grandma Sugar, she smuggled him two more while I was pretending not to look. Mac could not believe his good fortune and ran off outside. When we returned to visit the next day, Mac hurried outside and began digging in a planter in the back yard. He retrieved his contraband Oreos and settled down on the patio. It was impossible to see where dirt ended and the cookies began. I was flabbergasted (only a couple years into the world of boys) Grandma was delighted. She laughed until the tears came. "Such a smart boy!" I had a slightly different take.

She was wonderful woman who raised remarkable children. As Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis said "If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much." Grandma Sugar did it right, which is why she mattered so much to us. 

Rest easy Grandma.

I have a bit of a conundrum. Everything has been going very well with the whole potty training of the X-Man. He's accident free and independently uses the potty. I don't have to ask or prompt him, he takes off running yelling "potty!!!" swings open the bathroom door and does his business. Life's good. If I allow X-Man to go commando.

The boy kept his pull-up dry for several hours while we were out and about over the weekend. He will keep his diaper dry when we are running errands. I put a pair of underpants on him, they're wet within four minutes. Maybe they scare him.

And again, child number for present brand new issues that I can't seem to figure out. I'm not a fan of the boy running around a natural during the day, because he doesn't respect the diaper within the walls of our house. Diapering him up won't fix it. I threw in the towel after six pairs of underpants this morning. He ran around in all his glory and was just fine.

I am perplexed.

Again with the chaotic weekend. I discovered that Cinco appears to be very friendly while out and about. It looks like she's waving at anyone and everyone. If people smile and respond, she gets very excited. She smiles broadly, bounces vigorously and waves more frantically. One might think she wants them to hold her. They would be wrong. She wants them to give her their phone. Sadly, if you are not holding a phone, Cinco won't even make eye contact with you. Not because she's shy, but because she is scanning for someone with a phone.

Over the weekend, I was reminded why I don't wait for the father figure to come home before showering. I had been in the shower a full minute when the door flew open and X-Man shoved an unopened graham cracker box into the shower and yelled "I have some mom?" I yelled for the father figure, who meandered in and removed X-Man. But the father figure remained to ask me the pressing question "How long has Cinco been scared of this bunny rabbit toy? See watch...." Sure enough he was holding Cinco in one arm and the bunny of fear in the other arm. And she was crawling up him to escape it. I pointed out that that particular creature hopped on its own which might be the source of the concern and if he did not shut the door and leave me in peace before the hot water ran out he was going to wish it was the zombie apocalypse.

I managed to forget it was Monday. So I forgot I had appointments with students. Later this evening I thought it was Thursday. It's a cruel, cruel world.

The father figure and I had a miscommunication when it came from retrieving Baba from soccer practice. The kind of miscommunication that results in both parents showing up to retrieve one soccer player. Which, considering the various miscommunication that could have occurred, well, it could have been worse. I was hoping the father figure would be able to pick her up, so I wouldn't have to wake the sleeping X-Man, who decided that 6pm was actually the appropriate nap time. But, as I didn't get confirmation that he was able to, I went and got her myself. The father figure thought he was supposed to call if he was unable to get her.

The father figure and the coach looked for the apparently missing child. The coach was getting very concerned. The father figure was slightly concerned. I think he was as concerned about calling me. Probably because he got to the field after practice was over, therefore technically being late, so if Baba had indeed disappeared, and he had been late, I would indeed kill him. As it was, we all chuckled about it, except for possibly the coach.

So in the end, I had to wake X-Man up for nothing. And put pants on him for no reason. Life is hard.

I took a shower today. It went something like this.........

I walk into the bathroom and shut the door. Mac knocks on the door and asks for something to eat. I remind him he was eating an apple when I entered the bathroom..

As I entered the shower, X-Man lets fly a blood curdling scream followed by wailing, gasping and sobbing. Even though I knew it was X-Man, I still had visions of Cinco falling backwards down the stairs and landing on the hardwood floors. I bellowed for someone to tell me what had happened. Baby waltzed in and said "Mac took the papers out to recycling like you said but X-Man wanted to keep the McDonalds ad because he was looking at it."

Three minutes into the shower, X-Man starts pounding on the door yelling "Potty!" Someone let him in. I remind him that he is not allowed to open the drawers and throw toothbrushes, hair brushes or anything else into said potty. He starts to cry. Whoever let him into the bathroom did not shut the door, so Cinco followed him in. I yelled that someone needed to shut the door. So someone did. With X-Man and Cinco inside.

Cinco opened a drawer, X-Man yelled "No baby!" and slammed it shut. Cinco started crying. I popped my head out to make sure that no one's fingers had just been slammed. Meanwhile Cinco was pulling things out from under the sink and trying to crawl in it. Clearly my five minute hair therapy treatment wasn't going to happen.

Baba wandered in and said "Oh Cinco's in here" and wandered back out. Without Cinco. Meanwhile X-Man got off the potty, opened the shower door, offered me my towel, dropped my towel in the shower and decided he should climb in. As did Cinco. X-Man got in the shower, Cinco could not. And was outraged.

X-Man yelled at me "HOT!!!" and climbed back out, knocking Cinco over in his haste. Cinco, recognizing that he was off to something more interesting, didn't cry. X-Man remembered that he was in there to use the potty, climbed back on, jumped off and flushed. I don't know what, if anything he did, but he exited the bathroom yelling, "PONIES". I briefly thought of my waterlogged toddler running across my hardwood floors and decided,as the bathroom had been evacuated, it was time for me to escape.

And that, folks, is why I don't exercise. Because if you exercise you have to shower. And if you shower.....they will find you.

I am not allowed to feed Cinco baby food. She won't eat it. If her sister is offering the exact same food on the exact same spoon, yummy yummy in Cinco's tummy.

Mac destroyed the shoes I bought him three months ago. Like soles completely off destroyed. I pointed out to him before we left for swimming class that he should probably not wear the disintegrating shoes, what with all the rain and such. He changed his shoes. Or so I thought. He actually removed the more falling apart shoe and replaced it, leaving the not so destroyed mate on his foot. But it was ok, he assured me when I discovered it, after we were out in public because "they both have Spiderman on them."

Also, I think Cinco broke my laptop. She dumped water on the closed computer while I was distracted.....by X-Man peeing down the heater grate. It's been that kinda day.

Gestated Cinco has been gestated for ten months now. We are at a bit of a loggerheads right now.

Cinco believes she is old enough to have full access to my phone. And that it is unfair that I attempt to hide it from her. She most definitely old enough to stalk me and discover all of my stashing places.

Cinco also thinks she should be allowed to feed herself. And only she knows how to properly use silverware. And while her discerning palate cannot tolerate pureed mixed vegetables, she is a big fan of broccoli smuggled to her under the table by X-Man.

She is certainly big enough to climb the stairs all by herself. But she would prefer that I always remain in her line of site. Unless she has a magnificent treasure that she's purloined, in which case she would prefer it that I make myself scarce.

In return, Cinco has recently decided that sleeping through the night isn't such a bad thing. But she still wakes up at night a feels the need to remind us that she is indeed in her own bed, and isn't the biggest fan of the arrangements.