On punching, dictatorships, and stress

I think our decision to call Rex our 'Dominator-inator' miiiiiiight have backfired.
(Don't get the extra "inator"? Watch some Phineas & Ferb, or read about the Inator Inator, and come back.)

Lately, he has taken to punching any and all things resembling his father's face. Unfortunately for Steve, the only thing that resembles his face is, well, his face. He is starting to develop an abuse victim's persona.

"Me? I wouldn't hurt a fly... just a Dada."

I should preface all of this by saying that Rex only punches when he's really excited, or is being tickled... but I just don't think that matters to Steve, who seems to have been targeted by our youngster's two chubby fists. Why, then, can I not stop myself from tickling his chubtastic sides or running my fingers up his back like a spider while my Man Mate is holding him? Do I have some twisted desire to see him beat down by an 8 1/2 month-old? Or - and what I hope is much more likely - do I just enjoy hearing Rex's "uh-HYUCK"-like chuckles when I find a particularly tickle-prone spot?

Bruce, in timeless toddler tradition, has taken to giving direction. Lots of direction. Lots of direction followed by the stern threat of "... or I give you spank." Our decision to call him our 'Little Dictator' doesn't seem too far off, either.

"DO MY BIDDING!"

I don't know if other moms feel this way, but one of my biggest fears for our Little Dictator was that he would, instead, be more of a Little Punching Bag. He was never one of the wild, crazy, who-are-your-parents-and-why-are-they-letting-you-use-that-word-in-public? kids at the playground/mall play area, preferring instead to keep to himself and visibly flinch whenever someone ran too close to his personal space. The idea of someone picking on my Dookiedoo (ignore that - probably a source of mockery later) just makes my blood boil... but I just wasn't neurotic enough to fight his battles for him. I use past-tense because, now having TWO adorable little male loin-fruits, the desire to Hulk out and smash-bash any and every offending party has increased exponentially. Luckily for the little bullies on the playground/mall play areas, I have no desire to go to jail.

To wrap-up the post, I must give thanks for something that I realize I have taken for granted all my life:
A warm house.
Our brand-spanking-new gas furnace decided to crap out last Tuesday, leaving us with a frigid house and no idea what to do about it aside from drink homemade lemoncello (Mom and Dad), cry (Rex), meow (CatKirk and Butters), and ask to watch more 'Little Einsteins' (Bruce). Okay, I might have joined Rex on the crying front.
Turns out all that snow and rain the week before led to the spontaneous creation of Lake WhatTheHell in the crawlspace under our house, a lake that the sump pump wasn't prepared to deal with. The waters rose (to over a foot high) and flooded our furnace, and *POOF*! No more heat. Buh-bye warmth, hello layers.
After numerous emails, voicemails, text messages, and phone calls... and the passage of an entire week... we have heat once again, and no longer have to live in fear of one of the space heaters sparking and burning our house down while we're at work. It would just be too much to take right now.

SO, there you have it! A mini-update from your favorite mini-family. Until next time, be sure to floss and color inside the lines.

- Krystal

Popsicles... how I love you.

There are three things in this world that are sure-fire "Tantrum Busters".
Am I proud of employing them, instead of sticking to my guns and riding out Bruiser's reign of terror? No.
Will I continue to use them as I see fit - and implore Man Mate to do so as well - as a method of preserving our (rapidly depleting) sanity? You'd better believe it.

1. SpongeBob SquarePants
How can one animated, yellow sponge bring a toddler so much joy? How can our sweet Dookie-Doo sit for hours (yes... I've let him on occasion, ok??) smiling and clapping along to the same theme song over and over again? How can Man Mate and I stand to watch another episode, knowing that it will be full of the shrill, "Bwaaaaaaahaaaahaaahaaahaa!!"?
I'll tell you how: Bubba loves it.
Whether he's tired, sick, or needing a distraction while I finish making dinner, SpongeBob has become his favorite pal. I would feel guiltier than I do, but he is already phasing him out in favor of his books... so, really, nothing to beat myself up over.

2. The Unexpected Tickle-fest
"What's that, Little Dictator? You're mad at me because I won't let you touch the insanely hot stove, and want to show me your anger through the medium of a tantrum? How about... TICKLES TO YOUR TUMMY!" He can be in the middle of telling us off (as demonstrated by pointing to the offending party and saying "No", before doing his best umpire impression, saying "bye-bye", scowling, and hitching his thumb out to the side)... and all we have to do is aim our wiggling fingers at his neck, armpits, ribs, or waist, and the kid turns into a giggling mass of hilarity. Stove? What stove?

3. Popsicles
Cherry, strawberry, grape, lime, orange... our kid eats 'em all. A recent discovery at our household, popsicles have become as much a part of his nightly routine as his 7:00 p.m. tubby-time. (P.S. - Any other mommies wish THEY could have a regularly schedule tubby-time?) What started as a means to get more fluid into our son during his last bout of sickness quickly turned into Squishy's most loved time of the day. Since we are trying, however, to limit anything containing sugar after he brushes his teeth during tubby-time, Graddy bought him some sugar-free popsicles so that the joy may continue. Granted, Bruiser does look at the sugar-free popsicles like he knows something's different - again, genius - but down the hole it goes, regardless... well, after a brief stint as a paintbrush (he just has to decorate his pajamas in swipes of bright, sticky red) or microphone.

Out of all of the Little Dictator's vices, I'm still pro-tickle. Let's see how he is in his teens...