show my teeth

My little man bit the other day. For the first time. As in showed his teeth, placed them on another child's skin, and clamped down with his jaw, making his teeth sink into another's flesh.
Why?
Why? Why do kids bite?
Norah used to "show her teeth" (that's what Norie called biting) to other kids all the time. She would bite for no reason. Seriously! But my little man, he's never really been the aggressor. Never really ever done much to hurt anything.
And of course, AS SOON AS I WALK IN the teacher tells me that my child bit and then what am I supposed to say?
umm, so?
did it leave a mark?
what'd that no good little brat do to my angel first?
is he bleeding?
do you think the other parents are gonna sue?
are you sure MP bit that kid first? cause you know, my angel doesn't do things like that...

While I would probably like to say all of those things...I tend to stick with, I'm sorry.
But seriously, kids bite one another. It happens. They retaliate. Get angry cause another one took away a toy or whatever.
Therefore, I decided to use my wicked detective skills and solve this mystery with Mark Patrick. As we're riding home that afternoon, I ask him, "Baby, why did you bite L at school today?"
MP: L bite me.
Me: Baby, are you sure L bit you first?
Norah is now interrupting...NOOOO, MARK PATRICK, YOU BIT L!)
MP: L bite me.
Me: Did he do something today to upset you?
MP: I no like it.
Me: What don't you like, sweetheart?
MP: I no like L.
Me: Did he hurt you?
MP: yes.
Me: Where baby? How did L hurt you?
MP: L scratch man.
Me: Can you show mama where he scratched you?
Since we're riding in the car all he can do is wiggle a little in the car seat, but I can tell he's trying to point to his back, well, kind of. I let it go for now.
We're home. I decide to try again.
Me: Can you show mama where L scratched you baby?
MP: points to his back, near the shoulder.
Me: I pull up his shirt...there's a big scratch from his left shoulder going down about 2 inches. "Poor darling, L did get you, didn't he love bug?"
MP: yes. I no like L.

Me either. Gah, I knew that L kid was no good. L better watch out, I'm gonna sick Norah on him next time. Yah, that's what I'll do. Send Norah...that'll teach him. How DARE he think he can hurt my baby and get away with it?! See, I knew my baby wasn't capable of a mean thought. I knew he wasn't capable of harming another human for no reason. He isn't intentionally hateful.

After we're settled at home and the kids are hanging on the couch, I decide MP needs an extra sugar today, for his heartache and scratch. I head over to them.

A cup is launched. A face is smacked with the cup. Norah is sobbing.
MP is laughing. He did it on purpose.

Well, maybe sometimes he can be a little rough.

you're never fully dressed without a smile

Who cares what they're wearing
On Main Street,
Or Saville Row,
It's what you wear from ear to ear
And not from head to toe
(That matters)
-From the musical, Annie

I have really enjoyed these past few days of spending "alone" time with my angels, without daddy, without interruption; just the three of us. Don't get me wrong, I miss my hubby terribly...but this has been nice. Ya know, I always guilt myself for missing out on most ALL of Mark Patrick's infanthood. Almost 2 years after, I still feel terrible.
I went back to work 5 weeks after he was born, got a promotion at work shortly after (like within a few weeks), and started working second shift: 1-9:30 PM. We HAD to have the money. I HAD to move up at work. I HAD to be a Supervisor. I just HAD to...HAD to. How could I pass up a possibility like this? I remember other mothers asking me, "How could you do that with small children?", "Don't you feel like a terrible person asking your husband to do so much?", "Don't you think this will affect MP in the long run, not having his mommy to put him to sleep at night?" "I could never do that to my kids," they would say.
I cringed each and every time-with every question-with every statement these other mommies made. They just wouldn't stop. It was constant.
Fast forward to present day.
Mark Patrick, he'll be 2 in March, ya know. He's resilient, happy, healthy, funny, clumsy (man is he clumsy!) and such a tender heart. He's turning out alright, isn't he? He's meeting his milestones, huh? Yes, he is. Full speed ahead-that little one.
Last night, we had such a fantastic evening planned. We were gonna make chicken tacos, cupcakes, watch 'Annie' and wait for Gamma to over and spend the night. Well, only 'Annie' ended up happening. But so did this amazing moment...
MP and I were huddled up on the couch with Norie and Rox. Man had his banket (aka blanket for those that do not speak toddler), pah-tee (passy) and paayow (pillow); leaning against me, smelling like sweet babies do after a bath. Suddenly, he turns to me, takes the passy out, and out of no where says, "Mama, see ya nose? Mama, see ya nose?"
"What's wrong with my nose, buddy?"
"Boodger? You got a boodger?"
umm, i think i'm alright in the booger department, man. nothing to see here.
I now have a little pointer finger dive-bombing my nostril, or my left nose as I like to call it.
Giggling, I tell him, "Ouch, man! Get that panger outta my nose!"
He's laughing now. His finger is now in his left nose, and oh yeah...he's got something. Before I know it, that little finger is dive-bombing me again (all while, "You're never fully dressed without a smile!" is blaring through the surround sound from 'Annie'.) He inserts his booger into my left nose. NO WAY! A little graphic, but nonetheless true.
"AAAHHHHH," I playfully scream while wiping my nose. "MAN, I no wantcher boodgers!"
He's in hysterical hyena laugh mode by now. He can't keep it together...at all. He's drooling, face is red and squishy, can't catch his breath, just laughing. That sweet, sweet sound of laughter.
My eyes are closed, soaking it all in. Sissy is laughing with us now, too. Roxee has moved away from us. She's thinking, How dare you interrupt my sleep?

"HONK, HHHOOOONK!" he says while pinching my nose.
He's so handsome.
He's making it.
He knows his mama.
I didn't ruin him by not being there to put him to sleep every night.
He's happy.
He's healthy.
He's clumsy...silly clumsy.
He's laughed himself off the couch now. Squealing with delight. As his head pops back up, he steals my sugars. "I uh yew!" spills out of his toddler mouth.
Yep, he's gonna be just fine.

"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" :)

my woo woo

So, my girl...she's a pretty cool chick. She's tender-hearted, witty, deliberate and intriguing. The other day, while at "school", she reported to Ms. T and her "classmates" with this information, "You guys, I just can't play today. I am tired and I just can't do it. And besides, my nerves are bad."
Oh yeah, we have a firecracker on our hands. No. Doubt. And seriously, I have no idea where she gets this stuff! :D
Lately, I have been quite captivated at her ability to "read", recognize, and speak with such clarity and understanding. Her sentences have gone from baby thoughts to big girl thoughts in what seems like just a week. She's 3! She's not a big girl yet! Well, not in my eyes anyway.
And this morning on the way to school, she wanted to call my friend, Ms. N, to wish her a happy day. Thing is, we also tried this on Monday and it ended up with Norah crying. Dang leaf blowers...why do you need to blow leaves every Monday, by the patio, at work, where people are CLEARLY trying to have non-elevated voice conversations?!
Alright, back on track...we call Ms. N and get the voicemail.
Norah says, "Ma, she didn't answer, but my homework lady did!"
huh?
your homework lady?
hmmm, i'll bite.
"Baby, you have a homework lady?"
"Acourse Ma, she's talking to me on the phone right now!"
"No way," I say, "how did you get a homework lady from Ms. N's phone?
"I dunno," she says puzzled. "But I do."
This prompts the daily morning phone call to Grandma. The call goes to voicemail.
Norah leaves a message, "Hey Grandma! Call me baaacckk!" Then suddenly, "She's calling me back! She's calling me back! Yay! Grandma!"
That's funny. I didn't hear the phone ring.
"Let me see angel." Norah hands me the phone and sure enough...MAMA (my name for her Grandma) is displayed on the screen.
How does she do this? Was it a good guess? Wishful thinking?
And silently, I smile to myself and think, "I dunno. But I do."

my first

Wow, so I have officially started a blog. Embarrassing, right? Well, maybe not...
(I wonder how many people say that during their first post?)

So, I should probably start off by telling you a little about the Kelly family. First, there is me. Kayla aka mama-MOTHER-mommmmmy-pack mule-healer of bo-bos-keeper of the house-taker outer of dog-feeder/cleaner/doctor of turtles-cook-nanny-and pretend funny person extraordinaire.
Next comes the husband. Mark aka daddy-dad-Roxee's love toy-meat cook phenom-strongest man in the world-Norah's official hair brusher-MP's official punching bag-and professional husband.
Then, we have the namesakes...Norah (Knucklehead #1) and Mark Patrick (Knucklehead # 2.)Norah aka sissy-Norie-scooby doo-boo boo-angel girl-teenager in a 3 year old body-comedienne of the family-professional dancer-and esteemed language artist and quite possibly the most beautiful girl that has ever lived.
Now, Mark Patrick aka-bubba-bow bow-brotherman-man man-hammerhead-future quarterback/baseball player/dancer/gymnast/Olympic hopeful-MP3rds-and quite possibly the most handsome boy that has ever lived.
Next come the non-human extensions of the Kelly household: Roxee-lady, age 8 weeks, lab mix puppy; Oolie- red eared slider turtle, gender unknown, named by Norah, claimed by all; Dabu- red eared slider turtle, gender unknown, named by Mark Patrick, claimed by all; and lastly...some fish. We haven't named them but may have to start since they are now procreating. I am the unofficial grandmother to fish. (Not where I saw myself at 25-for sure)
And that's all of us! :) We are quite the rare breed. And, now that we are all acquainted...

Anyways, so let me tell you happened in the Kelly house around 3AMish this morning.
Oh yeah-you read that right, 3AMISH!

(side note: Mark is out of town working so the kids have been crawling in bed with me and Roxee each night. Two toddler ninja kickers+a dog+a normal sized adult human=one small bed.)

So, I am feeling the love of sweet unconsciousness when I awake to the smell of toothpaste.
Hmm, I wonder...toothpaste? I must be dreaming.
My eyes are fighting my brain this early morning and don't want to open, plus my contacts were sticking to my eyes...no surprise there!
And as I rollover, I see my sweet angels covered in blue toothpaste! Blue toothpaste...we don't HAVE blue toothpaste! My brain reminds me, 'I threw away some kid's Crest this weekend that was about 2 years old.'
CURSES! MP has been in the trash...again. Unfortunately, no surprise there either. To you, reading along, this may seem quite hilarious. But, alas, it was not to the crazy one-eyed mother who was screaming into the darkness before the sun decided to let the rooster know it was the start of a new day.

Goooood Moooorrrrning, Sunshine!

Well, no more procrastinating-time to survey the damage. As I begin to sit up, I feel foreign bed matter all around. Puzzles, books and toys DO NOT belong in my bed. But, there they were, hanging out with the knuckleheads just waiting to be played with. Alright, damage survey now includes 1) toothpaste covered children and 2) way too many toys in my bed. Not too bad, right? (Remember, we haven't left the sweet comfort of bed, yet)

Honestly, I can't remember which comes next but I guess all in all it doesn't matter the order. Basically, this is what I saw...knuckleheads created a painting on the mirror setting next to my bed, I'd call it 'toothpaste by numbers,' there was toothpaste all over the toilet, counter and floor in my bathroom, MP had also taken the stickers off my deodorant, plastic casing off my hair mud and stuffed a bottle of hair spray in the toilet, there was water ALL over the bathroom floor, the deodorant holder was on the opposite side of the bed and appeared half-eaten, and the dog peed on the carpet. I can giggle now that is has been a few hours but I swear to you, my face was purple due to the holding of my breath (still wishing it was a dream).

It is now sometime near 5:00 AM; kids are de-pasted, counters, floor, toilet and mirror are clean, dog pee is out of the carpet and lysol'd and the kids have been instructed to "NOT MOVE FROM THE SPOT I PUT YOU!" mmmmmm, laying back down now. God, I love sleep.

**bzzt, bzzt, beep, beep, beep, beep, bzzt, bzzt**

It's my alarm...it's 6:00 AM now. I start my daily routine, thankful the kiddos are still sleeping, and what happens next? dog pee-on the tile-right outside my bedroom door-it splashes against the sole of my foot and in between my toes. Good thing I needed to shower anyways, Rox, thanks girl.

Later on that morning, the kids are up and running and Norah walks up to me so sweetly and innocently, looking right into my eyes and says, "Mom, you sure did yell at us a lot last night."
I reply with the sheepish, "I'm sorry mommy yelled, baby. I really am. We don't talk to each other like that, do we?"
"Noooo," she says. "But I have been thinking, and, since you yelled at me, I can yell at you now, right?" Man, her mind works too quickly to be 3-she just knows everything. Little smarty pants.

I try to explain that is not how it works. She blurts, "AND you always tell me what to do." Again, I try to explain that's a mommy's job; to help her babies make good decisions and to ensure they are safe, by all means necessary... (shaking my head as I write now...I had a feeling this was coming)

"UUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH, I am so full of anger at you now Mama!", she screams.

And all I can say is, "I know baby, I know" and pull her tight and steal her sugars.

Aahhh, I love this life. I really, really do.