Poop and Chupe

Well this is a fun little post...

Yesterday I was getting ready for an evening out when I discovered that Mr. Charlie had a nice little diaper explosion.  This hasn't happened in a long time.

There's nothing like having to stop getting yourself clean and pretty to go clean poop off of your child's back, legs and a pillow on your chair where the boy was sitting...

I believe the culprit was too much apple juice. 

Today I was cleaning up in the kitchen after lunch and Wyatt asked for one of his candies that we bought this morning.  He picked out peppermints... 

I gave him a peppermint and went back to cleaning.  Shortly after, I hear Wyatt crying in the dining room and he points to his mouth that he swallowed his candy.  At least he wasn't choking on it!

He really started crying and then started gagging and next thing I know he throws up a decent-sized portion of his lunch and a little half-sucked peppermint.

He cried and said "Maybe I'm not old enough for those..."  Little sweetheart.

I felt so sad for him.  I got him cleaned up and the floor cleaned up and amazingly enough sat down to eat my lunch...  I'm surprised at myself.  If you know me, you'll understand why.

Just a glance into a couple days of life around this house...

My "Office"

Once upon a time, I had an office.  I didn't treat the office well.  I didn't like the room.  It was green with a tractor wallpaper border and cluttered and musty.  I tried to make it mine but it never happened.

Then, we got pregnant with baby number two.  We emptied the office, cleaned, repainted, and now we have a gorgeous new room for Mr. Charlie.

But where did all the stuff go...?  I still had several responsibilities for seed and farm and the house and now the church...

 

Cleverly disguised in this little red cabinet in the middle of my dining room....

 

 

My "office".  Everything I do takes place inside this magical little cabinet.  I shouldn't call it magical.  It's the bane of my existence. 

 

I'm thankful to have a cute way to disguise my office in the middle of the dining room but I can't really get any work done unless the kids are napping.  It's like opening Pandora's box in the eyes of the boys when I try to do something if they're awake.  Suddenly I have four hands reaching into my space - hitting random keys, turning the printer off, clicking random buttons, stealing 3 feet of tape, opening the stapler, pulling envelopes out, shutting the doors on me, grabbing stamps, grabbing pens, murdering my productivity.

 

Dreaming of a beautiful home office to call my own.  At this point, I would settle for a small cubicle that most people complain about. 

 





Flashlights. Damn.

Several weeks ago, Wyatt and Seth had to weather a nasty storm in the cellar.  Charlie and I were safe in the hospital dealing with his bronchiolitis.  Wyatt definitely made some memories while being in the cellar with his Daddy and has been quick to share many of the details with anyone that crosses his path.

One day, shortly after the storm, Wyatt and Seth were in Casey's and bumped into some local farmer friends.  Wyatt began telling his version of the events in the cellar.  He explained to one farmer that the batteries in their flashlight were dead.  The farmer asked Wyatt, "What do you say when your batteries die in your flashlight?"  I'm not sure that Wyatt had an answer, but the farmer did.  The farmer told Wyatt, "I always say 'Damnit' when the batteries in my flashlight die."

Thanks, Farmer. 

Though, "fortunately", Wyatt already knew the word.... Apparently he learned it from his momma....

A few days later, Wyatt and Seth were in Casey's again and bumped into the same farmer friend.  This time, the farmer gave Wyatt his very own flashlight.  He informed Wyatt, "This is your damnit flashlight."

Why.... Farmer?  Why....?

This was a novelty for quite some time.  Wyatt kept his "damnit flashlight" in the shed and told every visitor that this was his "damnit flashlight".

Fast forward several weeks to a beautiful Sunday morning in church - Pentecost.  We had a guest pastor who was also in charge of the children's time that Wyatt always attends at the front of the church in the middle of the service.

I should add - this guest pastor isn't just any guest in the church.  He is a very treasured part of our church who has been there often and actually baptized Wyatt.

The guest pastor pulled out a flashlight.

Seth and I exchanged nervous glances.

The pastor asked the kids what it was he was holding.  The kids were quiet for a few seconds until Wyatt - one of the youngest in the bunch - chimed in "a flashlight".

Whew..... Just a flashlight.

The pastor continued his children's sermon by demonstrating that the flashlight didn't work because it was out of batteries.

...............

Seth and I exchanged nervous glances and giggles.  Oh. My. Goodness... Please, Wyatt... Don't. Talk.

Wyatt got chatty today at children's time and started sharing some of his experience with cellars and flashlights and explained that our cellar is dark and Daddy's flashlight ran out of batteries.  He then asked the pastor if he could have that flashlight in case we needed to go into the cellar again.

Amazingly, Wyatt didn't drop a damnit in church today.  But there couldn't have been a more perfect opportunity for him to share his colorful farmer language with the entire congregation.

Seth and I sat and giggled nervously through most of the children's sermon while several members of the congregation kept smiling at us while they heard Wyatt's take on the cellar/flashlight experience.

Maybe this kid has a filter and knows it should be applied at church.

Damn flashlights.