Brotherly Love

I think I have titled a post this before. There are moments in my life where I see it displayed, that special brotherly love....and it makes me happy.

There have been times where these two do not get along at all. Not even a little. I'll go to bed thinking about how my day consisted of breaking up legitimate fist fights, pulling one crying punching boy off the top of another crying scratching boy, yelling for one to head straight for time out and demanding the other to march his little toosh off to his room. They cool down, they say apologies, they give hugs and they make up...only to find the same thing happening two minutes later. It makes me tried. And sometimes grumpy. And sometimes really grumpy.

But, thankfully, there are moments throughout the week that over shadow these moments. There are incidences when I know these two brothers love each other. That they are thrilled they are brothers. That they know they knew each other before they came to this Earth and bonded a long long time ago. Moments where I can feel Dax's sense of protection for his younger brother and moments that make me so proud beyond words to be their mom. I am so blessed.

Well, today we had one of those moments.

Dax had been gone at preschool. I was working. Wyatt was happily watching a surfing Backyardigans (note to self---do not erase from DVR). Dax gets home from preschool about a half hour before I am through with work. They play for a bit and then when I am done with work I make them lunch. Not more than 3 minutes after Dax was home from school Wyatt was crying. I was instantly a little frustrated. I'm at the end of my day, Wyatt had been pleased as pie all morning and they had been in the same room for less that 5 seconds and Wyatt is already crying. It doesn't make sense to me, but that is what happened.

Because I wasn't in where they were playing, I didn't see what had happened. Knowing exactly what kind of story I was going to get from Wyatt ("I beeeding" (I'm bleeding) is always his answer to my "What happened?" even if he isn't really bleeding and always followed by a fake-dramatic-I-want-to-see-my-brother-get-in-trouble kind of cry). I call them both into my office (oh wait...my bedroom where I work from). However, this time, Wyatt is really bleeding. Not the freak out kind of bleeding like 5 months ago. No, like he barely must have bit his lip and I can see a granule of blood on it kind of bleeding. After a few "he pushed me" and a few "I fall down's" and other rigmarole (I don't still don't even know what happened) Dax decides he is going to get Wyatt an ice pack for his lip.

Don't think I am being a bad mom. About 99% of the time I tell them to "Shake it off", and "Ohhhh, that didn't hurt", or like Austin says, "Rub some dirt on it". Basically, Wyatt sooooooo didn't need an ice pack, but I was impressed Dax was being charitable. I told him "that's a great idea" and they both run to the freezer. I heard them open the door, dig around a little, and I holler nonchalantly for them to close the door.

Dax comes running back to my room. He proceeds to tell me that he has gotten Wyatt something really cold for his lip. I say "thank you!" thinking it's the Spider-man ice pack on the bottom of the freezer door. He's unusually excited about this really cold thing he has gotten for Wyatt and just as I start to inquire of him some more, Wyatt comes wandering in with an egg pressed to his lips.

An egg! Not hard boiled, not a pretend plastic Easter egg. A real live, cold, egg.

I start laughing, the boys start laughing and I sit down on the floor with both boys on my lap and we laugh some more as Wyatt holds the egg to his lip until he feels all better.

If you ask me, that is brotherly love.

Terrible Two's

Why are two's so terrible? Contrary to this cute little picture, I'll give you a few reasons why:

He gets into my makeup, lotion and lip-gloss...daily.

He is caught drawing on the kitchen table sans a coloring book.

He escapes the house and runs his fanny down the street any time the front door opens.

He wipes his soapy hands all over the bathroom mirror....for fun.

When you ask him to bring you something he tosses it to you and says, "Go fetch!"

After he successfully steals his brother toys, he purposely drops them behind the couch (about 5 times a day)....for fun.

He throws tantrums for not getting to wear his flannel monkey jammies to bed every night. Same thing with those yellow boots you all know about.

He drops food on the floor...for fun.

He is a nuisance at the park on most days for throwing sand, pushing innocent kids and being a bully.

He dumps pitchers full of water out of the bathtub...for fun.

He doesn't eat regular meals, he has his own special diet complete with fruit snacks, fishies, string cheese, pop tarts and lemonaid.

And my current favorite (dripping with sarcasm), every other word is poo, toot, and poop. No really. Every. Other. Word.

Please!! Make it STOP!

Okay, so I think I may be a little at fault. He is so stinkin' cute to me. I try and get mad, and I do, trust me, I do, but the minute I turn around I sometimes laugh. What else can you do? Sometimes laughing is all I can do in place of selling him on the street corner to anyone who'll take him. And I think he sees me laughing. And then he does all those terrible things again and yells "poop" even louder.

According to a Terrible Twos Countdown Calendar I found on the Internet, I have 282 days -12 hours- 31 minutes - and 6 seconds until my child is out of the terrible twos phase.

Kill me now.

It's time

Yes, I know these look like happy, sloppy mug-shots, but this is the before.

I love the boys long hair. I know they look like ragamuffins. I know they look unkept, homeless and a little disheveled, but I still liked it. I think it went along with their personality. The long hair made their reckless, crazy behavior all the more endearing. I think I would tell myself, "Of course they would act like rebels and little out of control because they have long rebellious hair....they are just playing the part" I think I also thought that if we cut it into a nice clean, missionary-type cut, they would not fit the role very well. Ummmm, probably not at all.

But, the day came. We haven't cut their hair since last September and Dax asked for it to get cut a little. It hung in his eyes and Wyatt was brushing his out of his face like a little girl with whispies that had flown away. I could put Wyatt's hair into piggies. When your sons hair can fit into a rubberband, no matter how badly you want to keep it, it's time for a cut.

So, here they are. With foreheads, ears and nape of their necks that haven't been seen for months.

Growing Up

Dax loves to read. And he has a lot of books. And we read them over. And over. And over.

Basically I don't need to "read" him books because I have the majority of them memorized. But Dax does too, so if I ever slip up, he's right there to correct me. It's my favorite when he reads to me at night. He doesn't really read yet, but he recites the books to me. And truth be told, some are really long. And he has them memorized. Every word.

Our favorites around here are Dr. Seuss, Little Critters, Bernstein Bears and anything superhero related. Oh, and as of late the Potty Book which I am ready to burn. A recent fav is one Dax got from his Aunt Jamie for his birthday called "When I Grow Up". It's a rhyming story that gives all sorts of ideas of things kids can be when they grow up in order of the alphabet. It starts, "When I grow up I know I can be, whatever I dream of....". I love the message of it. It teaches how you can be anything you want, from an acrobat to a yodeler, a carpenter to a Quiz show MC and anything in between. It teaches how it doesn't matter what you choose to be when you grow up as long as you choose from your heart.

I've never really heard Waytt or Dax say what they wanted to be when they grow up, but I instantly thought of this book when I saw them running outside the other day changing their apparel from one thing to the next. A cowboy, a fireman, a superhero, a pirate. I started daydreaming, imagining what my little boys are going to grow up to be. Will they choose to put their life on the line each day and become a fireman or police man, will they want to be a rocket scientist or professional baseball player, or a chef or architect?

It's so exciting and so terrifying all at the same time. I panicked. Am I doing everything I should be to mold these little boys? Am I teaching them good habits, principles, values, hard work, and dedication to help them to succeed when they get older? The responsibly as a parent overwhelmed me, which it tends to do from time to time (read: all the time). I guess the panicked showed on my face because Dax asked me what I was "dreaming" about. I told him I wondered what he was going to be when he grew up. He looked at me like I was ridiculous, which he does from time to time (read: all the time). He says to me, "Mom, I'm gonna be Dax." I smiled a great big smile.

I had forgotten and he reminded me. All my worries were put to rest. No matter what my boys grow up to be, they will always be Dax and Wyatt. They will always be brothers and they will always be my boys. And although I don't expect them to always want to be a pirate or a superhero those days will probably come faster than I care to think about it.

So for today, and as long as I can, I'll keep my Dax as the cowboy-pirate-superhero that he is and I'll keep my Wyatt as the horse riding-fireman he is. Because I don't want them to grow up at all.

Dearest Mom

Dear Mom,

I know you love me, but I also know it makes you crazy when I insist on going out in public like this. But mom, I can't help it. I love my "red" boots. And although I know you try to hide them from me and make them disappear, I always find them. I know you would never really throw them away even though sometimes you tell me that you did. Yup, I always find them Oh, and mom, you are not a very good hider by the way, but I would never really tell you that because I like to see the disgust on your face when you see me proudly arrive at the door ready to go in my boots. I know you know I will outgrow these boots one day, but Mom, I promise, I am going to do my very best not to ever let that happen. And I am so glad that it is warming up outside and that I get to wear my boots with shorts. I really think I look awesome. Really, I do. Please pretty please, lets go run more errands so that I can have people tell me I am so cute with my boots on when we are at the store. It makes my day even though you shake your head and laugh. These passer-byers encourage me to always embrace who I am and that's a really good lesson Mom. You better just get used to it. I will always want to wear the shirts that don't exactly match my shorts and I know I can win by throwing a super duper tantrum. I know you would rather let me be me than fight with me. That's another reason why I love you, Mom. And thank Santa for my new Spider man glasses. He really knows me and knew I would love them, but probably not as much as you thought I would. Good thing Santa has my best interest at heart. And Mom, I am pretty comfortable with myself. I think I look pretty good all the time no matter what getup I am in.

Thanks for letting me be me! You're the best!

Love, Wyatt