<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:18:26.788-08:00</updated><category term='exercise'/><category term='parenthood'/><category term='birth'/><category term='babies'/><category term='dogs'/><category term='disneyland'/><title type='text'>The House of Hoss': Tales, Trials &amp; Tantrums</title><subtitle type='html'>Boring stories of a stay-at-home mom with two boys, Nate (2), and Will (1).  If I don't survive the everyday thrills of toddlers &amp; go insane, it'll be documented here.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-6218099681719367700</id><published>2008-09-09T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T21:18:16.992-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disneyland'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='exercise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'>Disney, Dogs, and Delivery</title><content type='html'>I just got the boys in bed after a long day spent mostly at Disneyland with my sister-in-law, my 6 month-old niece, Stella, and my friend &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Anh&lt;/span&gt; Thy and her two boys.  I can hear the boys talking to themselves a bit, so they haven't quite thrown in the towel yet.  They fell asleep in the car on the way home, which is a real rarity for Nate these days.  I'm lucky he's in bed at a normal hour, talking to himself or not.  I was a smarty pants (hold on, got to put Will back in his bed...) and I unplugged Nate's lamp by his bed.  It's the kind of night he could stay up for hours "reading" his books if he had the chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only Daisy, our Doberman, is snuggling Nate in his bed tonight.  Our other dog, Hannah, had to stay the night at the vets because she has an "ear issue".  I realized something was really wrong a couple nights ago when I woke up to her slapping her ears side-to-side over and over.  I got up, petted/felt her ears and one was wet and sticky.  Sure enough, it was covered in blood.  Poor Hannah, crazy stuff always happens to her.  I cleaned it up, called our 24-hour vet line, figured she wasn't dying and got her into the vet at their 1st available appointment.   A day and a half after the problem began.  (note:  I hear Nate playing with toys in the dark.   Hope he poops out soon because we've got school action in the morning) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, though I've been cleaning her ear and putting ear antibiotic drops in it from a previous infection (which I learned at the vet may result in hearing loss if her ear drum has ruptured, great help on my part), it was so swollen internally, they couldn't even get a scope in to check it out.  Tomorrow she has to be knocked out so they can get a good look and see if something is in there.  $900 estimate.  Of course.  We'll see if the costly pet insurance we finally bought, now that the dogs are eight years old, helps us out on this one.  Fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate enjoys stirring the pot these days.  He was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mischievous&lt;/span&gt; little runt most of the evening.  I had to tell him "Nate, you may think bad behavior is funny, but it's not funny to me," and I gave him a stern look to show mom means business.  He thought it was great pulling all his shirts and hangers off their bar in the closet.  Until I made him pick them all up and put them back.  He also thought it was funny to encourage Will to throw his grapes at lunch today.  Until he had to help pick them up and throw them in the garbage can.  He's always looking to push the envelope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, Nate's been a pretty sassy talker, too.  Last night he was getting in the shower (his new thing lately, Heaven forbid we save water and he take a bath with Will) and I said I needed to get washed up, too.  Of course, in my mind I was thinking get out quick so I can get you in bed and get a bath all to myself.  But this is what Nate says: "Mom, you don't shower with me.  You go brush your hair because it's all crazy," and he waves "all crazy" and points at my hair.  Thanks.  Thanks a lot.  At least he didn't mention the extra skin on my stomach that seems happy to "hang out" with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying out some of the exercise classes the YMCA has to offer.  So far, so good.  My pal, Heidi, wants me to go to some spin classes with her.  I'm all for punishing myself to get fit but I'm a bit nervous about the spin class because the one time I went (in Washington state) I was forced to stand and squat and never got to sit on the seat of the bike.  What kind of riding is that?  I think a leisurely ride class with a fat-seated bike and a movie screen with pretty scenes passing by sounds better.  (had to tell Will to get back in bed again)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rick's in New York on business for a few days, so I'm holding down the fort.  We're trading off because this weekend I'm heading back out (on my own!) to Denver to be with my sister and very-soon-to-be-niece, Avery.  My little sister, Natalie, was admitted to the hospital a couple hours ago to start the induction process.  Avery's taking her sweet time (not so eager to come out like Will who I just had to tell to get back in bed a third time).  If all goes well, I'll have a new niece by this time tomorrow.  I can hardly believe it.  This will be the first baby from one of my siblings.  I hope with all my heart everything goes smoothly.  I'm so excited to meet the little lady!  I don't want to be rude and keep hounding her while she goes into labor, but I'd pay for a play-by-play of the action!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-6218099681719367700?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/6218099681719367700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=6218099681719367700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6218099681719367700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6218099681719367700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/09/disney-dogs-and-delivery.html' title='Disney, Dogs, and Delivery'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-5362362456698081878</id><published>2008-09-01T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T21:20:47.135-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babies'/><title type='text'>Vision 20/20, Sanity 50/50</title><content type='html'>The most recent excitement in our household comes from Nate's 3rd and Will's 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; birthday party - Pirate Party - that took place Saturday night.  It was big-time because we rented our first (of many to come, I'm sure) bouncy castle, complete with a large Pirates of the Caribbean motif displayed in high style across the front.  Will didn't notice the skull and bones figure until later in the night.  He had to be reassured and coaxed back inside the castle afterward.  Other than that, the castle was a hit and created a great amount of sweat throughout it's 13 hour stint in our backyard (it actually fit, hurray!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys had a blast with their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;maties&lt;/span&gt;.  The only bashing that took place was on the slightly creepy pirate pinata.  The little guy withstood so many "at bats" by 2 and 3 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;old's&lt;/span&gt;, we had to give the fella a couple pokes so he'd spill his goody guts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had fake mustaches and pirate masks that made for some great/why-would-I-let-anyone-take-my-picture-while-wearing-this-nasty-thing pictures.  Too bad I was sweating so badly my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;stache&lt;/span&gt; kept falling off.  Felt like a nasty caterpillar on my lip, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been finding myself sweaty a lot lately when it comes to parenting.  The boys are incredibly active and are always up for a good chase or wrestle-action.  We were a bit of a scene at the park tonight playing chase over and around all the equipment and in the grass.  We played leapfrog and "It's raining, it's pouring" where we held hands spinning then would fall down.  We did somersaults (yes, me, too!) and I walked the kids around on their hands and spun them around until they were so dizzy, they couldn't walk straight.  We tried cartwheels and raced on the slides.  I taught Nate how to crawl around on all fours so he could be a horse for Will.  All-in-all, we had some authentic, sweaty fun tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rick and I were just talking about how the boys are starting to become quite enjoyable (at least some time every day... let's not push it).  They're becoming funny and are finding things funny.  They're understanding sharing (on occasion).  And at least I don't have to tote bottles and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;binkies&lt;/span&gt; all around like I used to.  I'm seeing the light.  Tonight they're even staying in bed and going right to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate and Hannah, our 8 year old &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Weimaraner&lt;/span&gt;, are asleep together in Nate's bed (it's queen-size, Daisy, our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Doberman's&lt;/span&gt; on the bed, too).  Hannah's spooning Nate and he has his hands wrapped around her.  They held hands while I read him his books tonight.  It's great to see harmony in the home, be it kid vs. kid, kid vs. animal and/or animal vs. animal.  The dogs are definitely easier than kids, but they're a pain in the rumpus on their fair share of occasions, as well.  Lately, it's digging in the new grass/seed we just planted.  The kids have taken to letting the dogs in and out of the back door when they need out.  It's a simple thing, but I love it.  Well, except when the dogs claws are filled with clumps of mud and grass from digging in the new grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys both start going to preschool this Friday.  I'm giddy just writing that.  I really can't even believe it yet.  I'm going to have over 10 hours a week by myself.  No worrying about anybody but me.  What will I do with myself?  Maybe a bath and a book, regular, no-guilt exercising, volunteering, shopping and errands by myself and maybe I'll just stop by Starbucks and hop in and out of the truck &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all by myself&lt;/span&gt;!  The things you take for granted before having children.  I might meet a new friend &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who doesn't even have kids&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm like a smiling fool typing here in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of before having babies, my sister is due with her first in a couple days.  I am so excited for her, but full of mixed emotions, as well.  You just don't realize what it takes to raise a child until you have one or a dozen yourself.  It is absolutely incomprehensible, no matter what you've been told or how many moms you've been around.  I hope my sister brings her good nature and patience to "the other side".  I just know she'll be an incredible mother.  She has a gentle and loving nature which I admire.  I feel badly every day that I'm such a "hustle your bustle" (I say that at least 10 times a day) kind of person.  I know she'll be acing me in the "I wish you were my mom" category, and I'm down with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it's all said and done, and you've crossed over into parenthood, there's no going back.  No giving up.  No "I tried, it was terribly tough, and I throw in the towel."  I know because I've thought hard about take backs many, many times.  I'm just glad I can be here for my sister (minus a 3 hour flight), which is really the most important thing, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;anyhoo&lt;/span&gt;.  As long as there's someone to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;commiserate&lt;/span&gt; with, to confide in, to lift you up and remind you of what's really important and what's really not, we moms will remain mostly sane.  Of course, my sanity's only about 50/50 at this point, so good luck and take my words with a grain of salt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-5362362456698081878?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/5362362456698081878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=5362362456698081878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5362362456698081878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5362362456698081878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/09/vision-2020-sanity-5050.html' title='Vision 20/20, Sanity 50/50'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-1369142130398659611</id><published>2008-08-12T14:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T14:27:37.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I really have to pee but I can't stop typing...</title><content type='html'>I've been spacing out my blogs (unintentionally), which is actually a good thing.  It means life's moving along at a pretty even keel at the Hoss household.  I don't know if it's the Chuck E. Cheese token reward jar, the 1-2-3 share technique, or just the kids getting older, but things seem to be on the up and up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, Nate had his share of potty incidents, which is common when we're stuck at home.  We were on house arrest yesterday because I overloaded the washer and burnt out the motor and ruined a belt.  What do you mean you can't jam-pack a washer with rugs!?  The way we go through laundry around here, I should have ordered a commercial washer-dryer duo.  Instead we opted for a fairly non-jazzy-but-highly-efficient front loader and to keep our trusty dryer.  That thing's crossed the country a few times and deserves to have a home until it goes bust someday, as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So needless to say, the delivery crew was over an hour late after our two hour time slot, blowing a morning out of the house (where all hell's always breaking loose).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate had few problems keeping himself entertained.  He pooped, then stuck the TP in his crack and ran around dragging the entire roll (some poopy, of course, why ask) throughout the living room.  "I'm a dragon, Mommy!".  Thank goodness we have tile floors and a steam mop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The laundry's piled to the sky downstairs, since we've been waiting several days for a working washer.  Nate was trying on the nasty, stinking, pee-poop-drool-rotting food on wet shirts laundry and calling it costumes.  Hey, whatever keeps the kid busy.  He wore different shirts and shorts on his head which were different hair do's.  I didn't even know he knew what a "hair do" is.  I've got him on video being Belle from Beauty and the Beast.  Good blackmail for when he's older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will, as cute as he can be, typically looks like a train wreck these days.  Dirt clings to him like tp to your butt crack when you're running around like a dragon.  I'm growing out his hair to try to counter his fine, floating-like-friction action.  He has allergies, so the poor kid's eyes are often red and swollen.  He reminds me of me.  1. Because he looks almost exactly like me and, 2. I was a damn ugly kid (not that Will is, but I had sweet mullets and crimped hair - at the SAME time!) and I've never been photogenic (or maybe that's a nice way of saying I typically look like heck, as well).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will often asks for pictures to sleep with at night.  Usually of Rick or Uncle David.  It's pretty cute.  Sometimes he'll prop them up next to him and sometimes he hugs the frame as he falls asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's been having a hard time going down for bed lately.  It's because Rick's been working so hard, and such long hours, it's the only time he really gets to spend quality time with his dad during the work week.  I try to rub his back or head like Rick does and he says "No!" (in his nasally, is his hearing bad? way).  Then in comes the hero, feeling badly for having to work at home as well, while his biggest fan is fighting to do the bedtime routine without him.  Sure enough, Rick puts one hand on Will's back and his head hits the pillow and he's ready for nighty-night.  We don't have the issue during nap times.  It's just that the little guy wants to be with his daddy, which, admittedly, is pretty sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's like, "night!".  Of course, he sleeps snuggling two large dogs in his big queen bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I completed my first stroller workout class.  Now that the boys are mostly out of strollers.  Better late than never.  It kicked my butt!  I haven't worked out that hard at least since high school which was 13 years ago.  I'm afraid to stand up from the chair because my legs may not work.  I figure if I continue to go once a week, I'll be completely ready for the Olympics next time they come around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-1369142130398659611?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/1369142130398659611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=1369142130398659611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1369142130398659611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1369142130398659611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-really-have-to-pee-but-i-cant-stop.html' title='I really have to pee but I can&apos;t stop typing...'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-2867316153049109858</id><published>2008-07-31T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T14:24:32.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Half-Mast Mom, Sweet Sis &amp; Other Stuff</title><content type='html'>Yesterday the boys and I tagged along with my pal, Kimberly, and her kids to an outing planned by a mom's group she's involved in.  We met up at a great outdoor mall and road a giant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ferris&lt;/span&gt; wheel, the carousel, water fountains (where Nate ran around in his Cars underwear) and a train (toot-toot! - the kid's favorite).  Afterward, Kimberly's gang and ours ate lunch at Red Robin (toot-toot! - mom's favorite).  Poor Kimberly survived one of the most persistent tantrums by an almost-two-year-old I've ever seen and had to leave early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, after a mommy and me class at the YMCA and some much needed working out, Will and I hoofed it over to the Parks &amp;amp; Rec to sign me and my little rascals up for Mommy &amp;amp; Me Soccer this fall.  One benefit of having our kids so close together: the boys can be in the same class.  When I went to pay with my old pal, Mr. Credit Card, he wasn't to be found.  Ms. Debit did the trick but I was left wondering where her main squeeze was.  After forcing myself to concentrate for thirty seconds, I realized I must have left my card at Red Robin's yesterday.  After a long call to Red Robin, my question was answered: of course I did!  After calling Rick to have him pick up the card on his way home, I noticed there was a message on my cell.  Who was it from?  Kimberly, of course, telling me she was on her way back from picking up her credit card at Red Robin where she had left it yesterday.  We must be soul mate friends (or, at the very least,  mentally fried moms with one and two year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a couple great workouts over the last few days.  And, because I'm perpetually out of shape,  a lot of soreness, to boot.  This morning I was chugging away on the elliptical, listening to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt;.  I have a workout mix I usually listen to, but it wasn't until 15 or 20 minutes into my workout that I noticed I had been "pumping it up" to my kids mix.  I was singing along (in my head) to "I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;wanta&lt;/span&gt; be a puppy dog" by Ralph's World when it finally occurred to me I was not listening to my normal workout mix.  Scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This last weekend I left my mini-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;me's&lt;/span&gt; and their pop to fend for themselves while I flew to Denver to surprise my little sister for her baby shower.  My sister, Natalie, is my only sister and this is going to be her first baby, a girl, who's due early September.  I can hardly wait.  My brother-in-law kept mum so no one in town (beside one of my very favorite/best friends, Katy, and the gal who threw the shower) knew I was coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seth, my brother-in-law, picked me up at the airport on his way home and told me to ding the doorbell really fast a lot of times so Nat would think it was him at the door.  When she opened it, expecting to see Seth, she just stared at me for what seemed like a minute but was probably more like three seconds, then she started crying really hard.  That sweet girl, I thought the baby might come out.  It was so wonderful to be there with her and to be able to support her and show her how much I love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot in any way imagine having a third child at this point in my life, but there is about a 2% chance it would happen and that's because my sister is the third child, and I cannot imagine living life without her (and Rick's also the third child - my love of my life!).  Natalie is such a thoughtful, warm, loving, fun person, I would do anything for her.  I would have even been a surrogate mother if she needed it, because she deserves far more than me to be a mom.  If anything happens to me and Rick, our boys will go to live with their Aunt Natalie and Uncle Seth.  They're just great people.  And they were a great breath of fresh air for a busy mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I brought home a project Nate had made at school:  a gold medal (apparently an Olympics theme going on).  It said, "Nate can.... plant flowers".  Great!  I'm going to put him to work in the yard!  He's got such a sense of humor these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me he's going to have a pirate party (so, okay, we ordered some decor and plates) and that he's going to have a pirate bouncy castle (which are actually affordable, so okay) and that Will's having a dance party (sounds like fun, but it's not going to happen).  We're combining the boys' parties this year and as many years as we can until they realize it's not fair.  Their Uncle David bought tickets so he'll be here for the party at the end of next month.  There couldn't be a better present for the boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a two and three year old sure sounds better than one and two - fingers crossed!  (I know people out there will say "fool!" but hope's what gets me through the rough spots, so give this girl a break!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-2867316153049109858?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/2867316153049109858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=2867316153049109858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/2867316153049109858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/2867316153049109858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/07/half-mast-mom-sweet-sis-other-stuff.html' title='Half-Mast Mom, Sweet Sis &amp; Other Stuff'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-6555143783845546398</id><published>2008-07-22T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T22:14:49.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alaskan Cruise, Washington, Diarreah</title><content type='html'>We got back from 16 days vacation yesterday.  The good thing about being away so long is that I actually look forward to getting back into the day-in-and-day-out routines that I was so looking forward to breaking free from before we left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We definitely settled right in to our old ways today.  Poor Will's got an itchy rash all over his body that began in Washington and has continued to spread.  He's also teething, apparently it's his "eye" teeth finally coming through.  Therefore, he's back to drooling, and I refuse to put a bib on him because he's nearly 2!  The kid's going to get a complex.  I believe it's the rash-teething combo that has resulted in difficulty getting to sleep tonight.  He just now quieted down in his bed (9:30pm).  A little while earlier, Will got up and grabbed the Little Einstein and Rocket action figures and two Matchbox cars to sleep with.  I'm sure they made him feel much better.  He wanted them just so on his pillow, all the characters (and cars) in the correct places.  Whatever works, I'm game.  We have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning to get his rash checked out.  We may need to add Nate to the roster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate was super excited to go to school today to see his teacher's and friends.  He had a great day at school, and even Rick came with me to pick him up (a first and very joyful experience for Nate).  Rick had to leave for the airport about an hour after Nate got home because he had to go away for a couple days for business.  This, in itself, is sad because we had been in Washington the last 9 days without him and Rick didn't get home until really late last night - 10 or so - so he didn't get to see the kids last night or this morning (he leaves for work about a quarter after 4am).  However, Nate, though saying "don't go!" to his daddy, was feeling great all day until an hour after Rick left.  I don't know if it was his breakfast or lunch or what, but his stomach just went out of control . . . dreaded diarrhea!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate felt so awful he just kept holding his stomach and saying "I'm sick, I'm sick" over and over again.  He had continuous, burning, messes everywhere diarrhea for the rest of the night.  He slept from 4-6pm, but woke himself by going in his bed.  Not a lot of fun for anyone.  I coaxed him into wearing a pull up for the night because I'm too exhausted to be changing the sheets at 2am.  The whole house has reeked tonight.  I've been an anti-bacterial wiping wonder.  I swear diarrhea's still on me even though I've changed clothes and scrubbed my arms and hands.  As my parent's neighbor, Barb, who had several children and grandchildren, once told me "water cures everything", so I gave him a bath which made him feel better for a time.  Nate kept wanting the water higher to cover his hurt tummy.  While Nate was bathing, Will poured his glass of milk all over the bottom two stairs and rubbed it in.  What a great support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid this stomach bug thing may have carried over from our stay at my brother's house in Washington.  It's also the house I was brought up in.  Now it's also the house that has a lovely 1' diameter diarrhea stain on the white carpet by the back bathroom.  Almost as bad as Will pounding holes all over the top of my mom's great, great (?) grandparents wood table (that maybe even traveled by wagon, if I can remember correctly), with an electric Thomas the Train controller.  On a trip before they broke a 50+ pound jade elephant worth thousands of dollars my dad had shipped back from Asia.  Whose kids are these?  You'd think they weren't watched constantly.  But yes, I was less than 10 feet from Will when he marred the antique table and maybe 15 feet from Nate when his bowels went haywire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the boys started to get bored at David's house (about 15 minutes after our arrival) they set to work to destroy the house and get everything out they could.  By the end of day two, I went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; and blew $100 on interactive toys to help keep the wild ones entertained.  Much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a very good/bad time on the cruise to Alaska.  It was great to see my family and beautiful Alaska.  We had great excursions - my aunt watched the boys so we could go on a crabbing boat adventure in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ketchikan&lt;/span&gt;, and Will while we took Nate on an amazing train ride (during Will's nap time) in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Skagway&lt;/span&gt;, Alaska.  My dad kept the boys while we toured the Alaskan Brewing Company in Juneau.  Every break was much needed because it was a lot to be together, sharing two beds, in one room for 7 nights.  Nate loved going to the kids zone which was great for him and nice for us to have a couple hours a day to just be chasing after one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;rugrat&lt;/span&gt; (Will was too young by 1 1/2 months - dang!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the last nights the kids were both having breakdowns in the room (typical enough, especially for Nate).  It got so stressful because we felt bad our screaming kids were probably bothering other people on the ship who paid to have a nice, relaxing vacation, plus, tantrums get annoying quite quickly, even in a comfortable setting.  Finally, after battling Nate to get his pajama's on, them him ripping them back off, I lost my mind and punched him in the butt and said "I hate you!".  Okay, I'm surprised I'm even sharing this but I can't hold back.  (I didn't punch him hard, I wasn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;crazy but close enough).  That moment won the award &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hands down&lt;/span&gt; for "Most Immature Moment" for Beth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My advice is, if someone offers to take you on a cruise with your one and two year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt;, only go if you have a nanny and/or at least two rooms.  It's just too darn stressful.  There was no way to let off steam because I didn't want to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;snockered&lt;/span&gt; with the kids and Rick and I had to go back to the room early and miss fun times with the other adults and several of the activities and shows I would've liked to have seen.  I did manage to sip a rusty nail while watching a magician show one night just me and the kids and they were really well behaved.  That is, if you don't mind having your $20 raffle tickets spread out and shoved down the back of several theater seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologize now for any weird grammar, etc.  I should be sleeping!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-6555143783845546398?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/6555143783845546398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=6555143783845546398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6555143783845546398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6555143783845546398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/07/alaskan-cruise-washington-diarreah.html' title='Alaskan Cruise, Washington, Diarreah'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-1026922230180821334</id><published>2008-06-30T22:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T23:20:26.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wild Bill Show</title><content type='html'>I wish I had a special chip in my brain that recorded all the crazy things that go on here so they could be downloaded directly into the computer.  Every day absolutely terrible and remarkably wonderful things happen with the kids.  I love and hate them quite dearly.  I don't believe there will ever come a time when one becomes my favorite.  The moment I decide one of the boys is easier to be around, for certain, something like pooping behind the bed or screaming on the floor in Jack in the Box happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple mornings ago I took the kids to their YMCA &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wonderkids&lt;/span&gt; class, then we played in the park, hiked along some nature trails, grabbed a couple things at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Marshalls&lt;/span&gt;, picked up a snail to battle the algae in Moe's fish tank from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Petsmart&lt;/span&gt;, and went to get in the truck to head home.  Nate had to pee, so back to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Petsmart&lt;/span&gt; or on to the nearby Jack in the Box fast food restaurant to powder our noses and grab some grub?  It was noon, so Nate, Will and I held hands and trekked the couple hundred feet or so of open parking lot, through the drive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;, to the Jack in the Box.  Will had had his fill of activity for the morning and chose to show me by forcing me to drag him about 15 feet along the way.  When I didn't get the hint, he decided to let me see his more recently active dark side.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;dadada&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;daaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There happened to be a fairly decent line in a fairly cramped space at Jack in the Box.  We squeezed in and got in line to wait our turn.  Something, thankfully, Nate is able to understand and accept as part of life.  Will, however, is still quite certain that when he wants something he should be able to have it immediately.  This goes for fruit snacks and rides, particularly.  Will whined and cried off and on in line.  I placed our order just in time to see the Wild Bill Show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the employees had given us &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;petri&lt;/span&gt; dish samples of fruit smoothies.  Something I'd think would appease a cranky boy.  However, Will seemed to be undecided if it should be sipped or miraculously sucked through a straw without spilling (note: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;petri&lt;/span&gt; dish style cup).  I tried to help him, but he just wasn't in the mood.  He ended up on his back screaming bloody murder, kicking his legs, spinning side to side and battling me for his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;petri&lt;/span&gt; cup.  He was pulling so hard on his smoothie sample I couldn't let go or it would have splattered everywhere.  (time out: I just had to run to the bathroom.  I think I ate bad dried blueberries.  That's why I'm typing on the computer at 10:45pm!)  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Anyhoo&lt;/span&gt;, I eventually pried the cup from those naughty little talons and managed to splatter only a couple of people, Will, and the floor.  A tall, well-put-together woman in scrubs asked if she could help me.  "I've been there, too," she said.  Very nice.  I should have told her "yes, please deal with  my son who's throwing a tantrum on a nasty floor while I step out and find myself a Starbucks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Will let loose with his infamously piercing, high pitched screeching, one of the employees loaded me up with all my bags, a chocolate milk and my diet coke.  I put what I could in my backpack but was still loaded up pretty well.  I got the boys out of the restaurant (as Nate said, "at least I was a good boy, mama") and started to make my way back to our truck ASAP. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made a lovely spectacle of ourselves in front of numerous cars waiting at the drive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;.  Immediately Will dropped to the ground.  I tried lifting him and forcing him to walk, but with Nate's hand and three bags in my right hand, I only had my left to try to finagle the little bugger into walking on his own.  I could feel Will's little bones in his hand popping and was afraid his little arm was going to come right off, so I let him drop to the ground where I got as much of his shirt as I could into my hand so I could lift him without hurting him.  I got about 10 steps out of him before he tried a very successful "spin move".  He started twirling to the left until his shirt was so tight it was choking him.  Great.  Real nice.  I had to set him down again and all I could do was try to hold him up against my body with my left arm.  A little awkward but a lot quicker.  After walking maybe a hundred feet like that, I got the little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;banshee&lt;/span&gt; into his seat (which is always a battle, anyway) and gave him chicken strips (be happy!) which were immediately slapped off my pancakes.  Will screamed bloody murder for the next 10 minutes in the car before he passed out.  Amen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was parched from the ordeal and needed a good chug of my pop.  (Hmm... where the heck is my pop?  Where is my G-D pop!?  I must have set it down when I put the boys in their seats.  No, not on the floor.  Is it on my back bumper as I'm driving down the freeway?  Should I pull over and see?  I'm so thirsty!  All I want is a big sip of ice cold pop on this hot, God-forsaken morning and I probably left it on the ground when I had to readjust William!  The drive-thru-ers didn't even give me a heads up.  I try to make for a fun day, I resisted the temptation to give Will a thump in the chest, and I don't even get rewarded with a sip. !?)  Needless to say, I wasn't just a little upset I couldn't find my pop.  I was raging hot.  Furious.  I fumed.  I cussed big bad words to myself.  I drank hot flavored water I'd had in my console. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though Will can be a serious Pill, as described in the episode above; he can also be a remarkably good boy.  One of his highlights includes giving great smooches out of the blue to me, Rick, his brother and friends, and his stuffed animals.  He sleeps with three hard, plastic bath toys: two sharks (one big, one small) and a killer whale, and occasionally a red plastic boat with a white sail.  Will also loves to help clean up and put things back in there respective places.  He is always happy to share his toys with others (it's a miracle!).  Nate screams and tries to rip things out of Will's hands, so we just tell Nate to ask nicely and, sure enough, Will passes over whatever is fancying Nate.  Plus, Will has a lovely, yet devilish grin that melts the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a kick in the pants, too.  The other day I was using the bathroom.  My typical after the morning coffee job.  Will comes in and happily declares "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;poofy&lt;/span&gt;" and gets the air freshener from under the sink and brings it to me.  What excellent service!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-1026922230180821334?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/1026922230180821334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=1026922230180821334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1026922230180821334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1026922230180821334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/06/wild-bill-show.html' title='The Wild Bill Show'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-5887423890742833281</id><published>2008-06-19T21:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T21:53:43.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our New Baby and Tokens</title><content type='html'>No, we weren't crazy enough to conceive a third child in less than three years; but, we did buy a Nintendo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; Fit with money from selling one of Rick's three surf boards.  It's been a real hit around this house.  Not only am I able to be active when Will's napping, in the evenings, when we are sick (as we are now), etc., I'm also able to spend time with Rick and the kids, having fun and getting exercise at the same time.  Hurray!  Nate's a real riot.  He's a punching, running, skiing machine.  I'm sure boxing games would be considered inappropriate for most two year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;old's&lt;/span&gt;.  In my opinion, if it wears my busy bugger out, then Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wii's&lt;/span&gt; getting the knock down.  It's great for the abs and I'm hoping if I punch hard enough my stretch marks will evaporate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, because I believe in the Super Nannies and Nanny 911&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ers&lt;/span&gt;, I've installed a "Nate's Very Good Boy Token Jar" in our home.  I bought a ridiculous amount of Chuck E. Cheese tokens and am letting Nate add one to his jar whenever he follows directions, shows good behavior, helps me, the dogs, Will, etc.  If Nate misbehaves, like telling us he doesn't have to go to the bathroom, then peeing across the living room floor half a minute later, like he did tonight, then a token is removed from his "Nate's Very Good Boy Token Jar" and placed back in the plastic token holder from the big Cheese himself (not good).  I have to say, Nate's been "on track and on time" (shout out to other moms and dads in Thomas' world) with the potty issue.  Well, beside peeing in his shorts in the yard this afternoon and the cross-living-room adventure tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, we're not in for another weird toilet-issue run.  As long as the boys don't smear poop, I can cope.  That reminds me, Nate, Will and I have not been feeling well the last couple of days.  Mostly nose stuff, some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fevery&lt;/span&gt;-issues, aches, sleepiness, etc.  But it was a little strange when Nate did a small spit up on the hall carpet this afternoon.  He said it hurt.  I didn't see it happen, so I wiped it up and smelled it.   Yep, smelled like bile and had chunks.  No worries, though.  It didn't take more than a moment for him to get back "on track and on time".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a nice break this afternoon.  I had my hair done (I've got to cover the grays these hoodlums give me) and ran to Toys R Us and the place where you stuff bears.  I really want to get Nate the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Walle&lt;/span&gt; interactive toy for his birthday (almost two months away, I'm really planning) and I know it's going to be hard to find once the movie comes out.  However, it seems to be popular already because it's already sold out at Toys R Us.  Instead, I picked up some fun bits for our flight to Washington and cruise to Alaska in a couple weeks.  A little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Walle&lt;/span&gt; that dances, some hot wheels, and three Pirates of the Caribbean action figures - score!  The flight should be quite exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Build-A-Bear (I remembered the name!) I had a black lab stuffed for Will.  The Binky Ba Ba Fairy's coming this weekend to take his bottles to new babies and is going to leave him a lovely little dog named Gog (how Will pronounces dog).  Will adores dogs, so I'm hoping his new lovey will ease the pain of losing his beloved bottles.  I had to kiss and wish on a little heart that was sewn into Gog, and I am such a dork, I almost cried while making my wish.  I was planning on having the fairy come tomorrow, but we have swim lessons in the morning, so he'll probably fall asleep in the car on the 20 minute drive home and Rick and I are going on a date tomorrow night (!?!), so he'll be with the sitter.  Looks like the big night's Saturday.  Wish us well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to postpone sleep because of the whole post-nasal-drip-thing; however, the Vick's nighttime cold medicine I took a while back is starting to take affect.  If I don't get to my bed quickly, I might end up like Nate who fell asleep on his bedroom floor today naked with his blankie wrapped around his waist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-5887423890742833281?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/5887423890742833281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=5887423890742833281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5887423890742833281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5887423890742833281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/06/our-new-baby-and-tokens.html' title='Our New Baby and Tokens'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-5141003417268701524</id><published>2008-06-11T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T21:36:05.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chucky at the Movies</title><content type='html'>My Mom, bless her, came to visit for a week - hurray!  The only bad thing about that is that she had to go back to Washington.  My dad, brother, and soon-to-be-sister-in-law, Jamie, all came out for a long weekend, too!  All-in-all, we had a ton of fun and the boys were on fairly wonderful behavior.  We had a great time swimming at the hotel and the boys soaked up all the extra attention like the love sponges they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, as I find in all aspects of our lives/adventures, the higher things get, the longer and harder they fall.  It never fails that I take the kids to Disneyland (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jumpin&lt;/span&gt;' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jamin&lt;/span&gt;', Scooters Jungle, the petting zoo, park, etc.),  and after our great and joyous outing, the boys are unable to stop their inevitable tantrums and floor-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;flopping&lt;/span&gt; breakdowns (this goes more for Nate than Will, who's fairly good natured still).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was fairly comical as I look back on it.  Of course, the large glass of now sour wine my mom had left in the fridge a few days ago that I'm gulping down could be part of why I now think it was a bit funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our day started off great, with friends over to play, and fairly decent behavior for all the tots and sharing and all that.  Times like those give me hope that maybe the boys are doing okay with me, the crazy-lady-mom, raising them.  Will had an early nap and woke up early.  It's always a challenge for me to help the kids keep good spirits and behavior through the afternoons and dinner time.  Today was no exception.  Nate and Will were thoroughly enjoying their attempt at making me go mad, so I decided to pack them up and head to a movie at the theater: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kung&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Fu&lt;/span&gt; Panda.  Rick had to fly to Salt Lake City for a conference tomorrow, so it was just me and the little guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had success (beside Will fighting the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;bejesus&lt;/span&gt; out of me to not strap him into the car seat and fighting to not get out of the car when it was finally time to get out - he does this every time - it's really cutting down on my latte stops) getting into the theater, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;dinking&lt;/span&gt; around on the video games, and picking out snacks - I even let them be crazy and we got a medium (huge!) popcorn, a medium (huge) pop, and a big bag of sour patch kids.  I should have known I would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;cruisin&lt;/span&gt;' for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bruisin&lt;/span&gt;' at that point.  The boys were actually great through the movie. . . a little restless at the end, but what one or two year old wouldn't be?  I have to say, I highly recommend it.  It was action-packed and fun.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Anyhoo&lt;/span&gt;, the manure hit the pan in the restroom afterward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The three of us went into the handicap stall as typical.  Yes, having a one and two year old is a valid handicap.  I went to the bathroom and flushed.  And Nate got so upset that he didn't get to flush, he did a twenty second wide-open-mouth-I'm-going-to-scream-move.  Then it poured out.  Violent screaming, red-faced crying.  SCREAMING.  He completely lost it.  I tried to cool him down, failed, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;snuck&lt;/span&gt; a spank (something I'm trying not to do - dang, I lost it, too), of course, that didn't help.  I left the stall with Will and tried the "calm down, it's time to go, hold my hand" which didn't even register with him.  He probably couldn't hear me.  I left him in the stall screaming (it was adjacent to the sinks) so I could wash my hands.  I did the "it's going to be awfully lonely staying the night in the bathroom, so you better come with us" - no luck.  Finally, by bluffing a really good "I'm going to leave and if you want to come with us, you better follow me", he came out, still screaming bloody murder.  Two nice moms, both who happened to have two boys close in age, a year or two older than my boys, came up at different times to tell me they'd been there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I carried sweaty, angry Nate through the lobby (thankfully he clung and didn't kick), down the escalators, to the car.  Opened his door, set him in his chair, walked around the car, put back-arching, seat-gripping Will in his seat.  Chased Nate (who had gotten out because I hadn't strapped him in (No! I do it!! Scream!  Wail!)) through several cars in the parking garage. And, because it never fails, there was a car waiting for me to load the kids so they could take my parking space.  They probably got it on video and we'll be starring on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;utube&lt;/span&gt;.com tonight.  Nate screamed the entire car ride home, when I unbuckled him, drug him off of the floorboards of the car, and had to lock the car doors because he kept trying to get back in the car (because "our house is yucky!").  I left him screaming in the driveway (we live at the end of a previously quiet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;cul&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt;-sac) while I got Will in the house and started the broiler for salmon.  When I went out and checked on Nate several minutes later, he hadn't calmed down a lick.  He couldn't be held.  He couldn't reason with me.  He couldn't "use his words".  He was just out of control with no way to calm down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before bedtime tonight, with the help of my little sculpture of the mom hugging her two little boys, Nate shared some of his feelings.  He told me I'm not a bad mommy, I'm a "good mommy" and that when he's mad, I'm sad (which I've told him).  Then he made like he was scratching the mommy and pulling her hair and said "I hurt you!".  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Owy&lt;/span&gt; and a little scary.  I think I've created my old little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Chucky&lt;/span&gt; doll. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the third day in a row Nate's thrown a monstrous tantrum based on control issues.  At least the potty throughout the house bit has passed.  All I can do is try to keep my wits and to be as consistent as I can . . . to keep my word when I say something and show them I love them no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I look at these battles, I feel like I'm not doing anything right.  I can only hope that in the big picture, what counts is, that I'm here, I'm trying, I care, and no matter what, all I want is the best for my babies.  Being a mom is the most challenging occupation in the world.  It's the most important thing to be successful at.  I've always worked my tail off to succeed academically and in my career.  I always felt in control of my successes and my failures.  This parenting throws all that out the window.  It's difficult to see what I've sewn.  There are no exams to judge me or to let me know where my weaknesses and strengths are.  Part of me wants to start working just because I'm so afraid of being so fully responsible for my own kids.  I've got to suck it up.  I've got to dig down and find patience.  I've got to cut myself some slack and allow myself to have fun.  And, ideally, I'd enjoy drinking more wine and and hearing it a little less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-5141003417268701524?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/5141003417268701524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=5141003417268701524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5141003417268701524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5141003417268701524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-mom-bless-her-came-to-visit-for-week.html' title='Chucky at the Movies'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-4292506615932335112</id><published>2008-05-31T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T13:55:35.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Same Sh*t, Different Day</title><content type='html'>We've been having some crazy poop episodes around this house the last couple of days.  Not long after I finished blogging yesterday, I went downstairs to paint my toenails.  The boys (both were up because Will would not stay in bed for his nap - it took just 2 1/2 hours to get him to fall asleep) moved upstairs to play not long after I joined them in the family room.  Hey, thanks a lot!  I guess they're not into painting their nails.  I wasn't too worried about them causing mischief because I could hear the stampeding of their feet and squeals of delight as they raced around upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a few minutes for my pretty pink paint to set, then I headed upstairs to join in on the fun.  Unfortunately for me, the fun was beyond any activity I could ever have hoped to join in.  Nate had pooped, apparently, on the floor - everywhere - in Rick's and my room.  The boys smeared it throughout a 100 square foot area of our light, creamy carpet, finger-painted the wall, and flung a few bits on the bed for good measure.  They were covered head-to-foot in poop in their diaper and underwear clad selves and were absolutely thrilled at their wondrous adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I might be sick.  That morning I'd already picked up a mystery poop under the desk, a pee puddle in Nate's room and one on the stairs.  Why after doing so well was Nate being so bad?  To say the least, I screamed so loudly at the boys my throat hurt for the rest of the night.  Nate had time out for a couple hours - I could hardly stand to look at him I was so angry.  It'd be one thing if that darn poop didn't stain like it does, but I worked and worked on that carpet.  Of the four (four!) cans of Spot Shot carpet cleaner I'd bought on special at Target a couple days ago, I used three full cans yesterday.  After a solid hour of scrubbing, soaking, and using the carpet cleaner, the carpet looked pretty good.  I washed the bedding.  I washed the walls.  I fumed.  I thought how naive I was to think I could survive these little monsters we brought into the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the sh*t never ends.  After surviving yesterday by a thread, things were going okay, if not quite cranky and whiny, this morning.  Not an hour ago I was outside with the boys eating icy treats for dessert after lunch.  I had to go to the bathroom (in a toilet) and left the boys playing outside with rocks for a few minutes.  When I came out there was a big turd in the pretty white rocks I had put in the border of our fountain.  I asked Nate if he did it, and he agreed he had.  He said Daisy (our Doberman) was eating it, which I could see was an honest observation because it was a bit smeared over a decent section of rock.  Great.  Same sh*t, different day.  I tried to have Nate pick it up, but it's not easy to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;smooshed&lt;/span&gt; poop off white rocks with a paper towel for anyone.  I ended up shoveling out a section of rocks.  And to add to the joy, I got some on my fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Times like these make me so excited to see what comes next. (that was sarcastic)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-4292506615932335112?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/4292506615932335112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=4292506615932335112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4292506615932335112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4292506615932335112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/05/same-sht-different-day.html' title='Same Sh*t, Different Day'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-3241661680287095217</id><published>2008-05-30T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T10:26:11.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Battle Royal</title><content type='html'>Time's flying by here at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hoss&lt;/span&gt; household.  We've been busy taking advantage of the fun stuff available for kids to do in our area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a fairly uneventful, quick, and (if you pretend Will didn't have one tantrum after another and blood dripping from his teething mouth) enjoyable Wild Animal Park experience this last weekend in the San Diego area.  Because we were traveling with our two dogs, and were on our way home from a nice two-night retreat to Rick's parent's house, we made it a quick visit.  We were without stroller because there was no room in the truck, which allowed Rick and I to get decent workouts from toting the tots on our shoulders and packs on our backs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, Nate's got the whole theme-park routine down and is excellent at waiting in line and gingerly moving from one event/area/ride/critter to another.  Will hasn't quite figured out the taking turns deal and he had a hard time (aka fits) when we had to leave the gorillas, lions, etc.  I felt pretty bad that we had to leave the gorillas, too.  They were pretty amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday Nate had one of those, as his teacher said when I arrived, "not a very good day at school."  He hit five children across the face and one with a car.  Thankfully, the teacher said she was able to intervene and slow the force of the slapping car.  I asked her if he thought it was funny when he hit them and she agreed he had.  She thought he was just tired and a bit out of sorts.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;... we've got a little devil!  He was upset about receiving a time out and took a nap in the afternoon.  I'm afraid he's aspiring to become a pirate.  We'll have to really focus on helping him get this evil side under wraps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a heck of a time finding a spare moment to write lately.  Possibly because I'm doing things like cleaning up Nate's hidden, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;smooshed&lt;/span&gt; poop pile that was under the tipped over file box under the desk this morning.  I don't know what overcame him.  I don't know if he's ever done a random pooping like that.  And, after cleaning up the bloody footprints throughout the house and down the stairs (for a second day in a row) from our dog, Hannah, who enjoys licking her feet to a pulp in her free time, our hand-held carpet cleaner pooped out when it came to the poop.  Isn't that typical?  And poop stains like crazy.  I never knew that before kids.  Could have been because I had chosen to not go poop on the floor for so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will and I had a lot of fun playing at the beach yesterday morning while Nate was at school.  We're fortunate to live so close to such lovely beaches.  We joined my pal, Kimberly, and her son, and Will's buddy, Daniel.  I treated myself to my favorite, an iced venti decaf sugar-free vanilla breve latte at Starbucks on the way down, just to top off my happiness factor.  The boys were adorable and incredibly well-behaved.  They looked like little sandmen, all covered in the beach that stuck to the spf 50 lotion lathered all over their little bodies.  It's never fun to get all that sand off, and really not fun to have a sandy diaper changed, but it was well worth the opportunity for exploration, excitement and relaxation for us moms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will had a check-up for his tube surgery for his ears and the report was excellent.  He's been such a trooper wearing his earplugs in the bath, etc.  He's been spilling out a lot more words and they're becoming clearer, as well.  If it wasn't for his terrible, swollen, bloody teething, I'm sure we would notice he's feeling much relieved.  Will's become a great kisser and hugger and he has an incredible ability to fill our hearts with love.  When Nate was throwing a fit last night while we had a picnic dinner at a nearby park (I ate the string cheese he wanted), Will was taking turns hugging me and Rick and leaning his head against Rick's forehead.  He is a great kiss-blower and has a remarkably peaceful, gentle nature when he's not hitting or bulling others over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I can hear Will dismantling my bathroom.  I better put on my cape and save the house from the next battle royal (pronounced &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;roy&lt;/span&gt;-Al for those of you who didn't watch &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;WWF&lt;/span&gt; in the 80's).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-3241661680287095217?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/3241661680287095217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=3241661680287095217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/3241661680287095217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/3241661680287095217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/05/battle-royal.html' title='Battle Royal'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-4273801909096544505</id><published>2008-05-15T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T21:22:32.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who are these kids who keep calling me mom?</title><content type='html'>It's been a while.  The truth is, I was so frustrated and downright angry inside last week I was afraid to write because I might have come across as a devil-mom-scorned.  What pushed me over the top was some really painful heartburn.  It was like a volcano in the center of my chest which radiated throughout my upper body.  It kept making my right arm fall asleep and gave me a tight/sore back and a kink in my neck.  It was nothing like I've ever experienced before and lasted over a week.  It stabbed me when I breathed and I could hardly swallow any drink or food.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Anyhoo&lt;/span&gt;, all that's over now.  The day I made the doctor's appointment and the morning after I had a few drinks with my pal, Kimberly, my lava pit settled.  Maybe margaritas are the answer to severe heartburn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; is hunky dory around here but I succumbed to bad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;momness&lt;/span&gt; tonight by spanking Nate THREE times.  And he laughed every time.  He is an extremely strong-willed little boy.  I'd be proud of his conviction if it wasn't me he was constantly testing.  I understand the second year is a time for children to try to take some control for themselves, so I've been throwing out options with everything.  When I ask him to get underwear on, it goes something like, "are you going to wear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tighty&lt;/span&gt; underwear or a bigger, looser pair?" just because it takes more creativity than I've got flowing at the moment to think of options that sound more exciting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate fights me in everything we do.  And I'm not exaggerating on the everything part.  His favorite thing now is "don't say (any random word I just said), mommy."  And he really likes "don't be funny, mommy."  I mean, what kid would want their mom to have fun with them, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The spanks came for a few reasons tonight, but the underlying cause was failure to listen.  If I ask him to not hit Will, he'll give Will one more good whop.  If I ask Will to please not throw his blueberries, Nate will pick up one of Will's blueberries and chuck it.  If I ask Nate to not dump the water out of their little blow-up swimming pool, Nate will tell Will to do it to try to get Will in trouble.  This happens well over twenty times every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thought was that Nate needed more focused one-on-one time with me, so today that was my goal during Will's nap time.  I even dawned my rarely worn swim wear and splashed in the pool with him.  We completely reworked the wood train set on the train table, then followed up by building a big plastic train track in the living room.  I thought that by ignoring my chores for a while and truly focusing on Nate, he would be sure to be filled up with all my love and attention and be a very (or at least a little bit of a) good boy for the rest of the afternoon.  Bull-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;honkey&lt;/span&gt;.  It backfired!  When I was sitting on the ground folding clothes he kicked me so hard under the shoulder blade that I still have a pinch (spank 1).  Minutes later he beat Will with a puff-a-lump (mine from when I was a kid... remember those?) until Will fell back and hit his head on the stairs (spank 2) and then Nate managed to pee on the stairs for good measure.  I think spank 3 happened after Nate wouldn't stay in time out but it's all starting to blur at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is that I was a stubborn, strong-willed kid myself.  I thought most adults weren't worth respecting (I actually still feel a little that way - I told you, I'm stubborn) and made a lot of things happen through terrible tantrums into my upper teens.  I know a lot of family and childhood friends of mine get a good chuckle hearing about my payback.  I get a little bit of a chuckle myself when I'm not right in the fray.   I don't even know what fray means, but I think I've heard that saying and the spell check's not picking it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate does have his great moments.  They're a bit few at the moment, but he has hope and I think we'll all make it through the terrible two's in one piece.  Or at least just in time for Will to start his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will's learning a lot from his older brother.  1.  Tantrums and 2. Scratching.  Fortunately, Will only uses his vices when he is not feeling well (usually from teething.. his molars are just breaking through finally), or he's really tired.  Otherwise, he's in a great stage of life.  He's coming into his own, speaking many new words every day and becoming a big boy in all his actions.  He likes to use a napkin to keep himself cleaned up.  He's always trying to drink my decaf lattes.  He gets his own bowls and spoons and puts things back in their places.  Today I got a kick out of him at breakfast.  It was just Will and me (Nate slept in !?) and Will was eating cinnamon toast and blueberries.  Will loves blueberries.  I had the plastic container with an additional 30 berries or so still on the table.  Will grabbed it, opened it, and proceeded to dump all the additional berries onto his plate.  He then got up, grabbed the empty container and a big black plastic stirring spoon he'd gotten out earlier, and went and put the spoon back in the drawer and opened the cupboard and put the container in the garbage can, closed the cupboard and came back to the table, climbed up on the chair (it's a good effort for him) and sat and finished his breakfast (minus about 15 berries).  He's a riot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a very brave woman and took the boys to Disneyland by myself for the first time this last Wednesday.  We stuck to California Adventure because it's usually a lot quieter than the Disneyland side.  The boys were such good listeners, I was so proud of them.  I would definitely try it again.  It's a bit of an effort scooching on and off the tram with the stroller, backpack and kids, but otherwise, we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fared&lt;/span&gt; quite well.   Nate is a pro when  it comes to waiting in lines and understanding the concept of letting everyone get their turn.  Will lacks any patience waiting for other people, so he had numerous breakdowns and a few pretty hard core tantrums. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I misplaced the lap buckle for my stroller when washing the cover a while back, so Will can actually melt down under the lap bar and flop onto the ground.  It doesn't even slow him down if we're moving.  If he's upset enough, he's not afraid to try anything to let me know it.  I felt good when a lady came up to me at the bakery where I was getting my special latte treat and a healthy sugar cookie for the boys (Will was so hysterical, he wouldn't even try the sugar cookie), and told me I had great patience.  I hadn't even noticed how well I'd been keeping my composure until the woman noted it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started reading Chicken Soup for the Busy Mom's Soul, a book my mom sent me.  I think it'll help me keep things in perspective.  I've only just begun but already I've read something that makes great sense.  It said we, as moms, are so quick to point out our failures that we forget to notice the good things we do.  I rarely congratulate myself when it comes to my parenting and I'm the first to admit I'm no pro nor the kind of woman's who's born to be a mom.  I work hard to be the best mom I can be.  I do notice my faults a lot.  A lot, a lot.  But, I'm going to try to focus on some of my positive traits, too.  At least I'm out of the house with a one and two year old.  That in itself is a decent feat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels good to have finally blogged.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Bleh&lt;/span&gt;.  I got it all out... or at least 5-10% of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-4273801909096544505?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/4273801909096544505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=4273801909096544505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4273801909096544505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4273801909096544505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/05/who-are-these-kids-who-keep-calling-me.html' title='Who are these kids who keep calling me mom?'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-7431113669518591239</id><published>2008-05-05T19:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T20:02:44.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I slack because I'm sleepy and have heartburn</title><content type='html'>I know I've been slacking.  Sleepiness has been taking it's toll lately.  Usually I can shake it, but it's been sticking to me like mud to a hog lately.  I really just wanted to say "mud to a hog".  Thought that one up myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will's been teething something awful.  He slept seven hours during the day yesterday, he was so spent.  It's just after 7 pm and all my boys (Rick included) are out for the count.  I've never heard of any kid having it as rough as Will.  Most kids his age have most all their teeth and he's just breaking through his first two sets of molars.  It looks like someone cheese-grated his gums and some bits of teeth are showing through.  For some odd reason, he had some worm/vein thing coming out of his gum a couple days ago.  I didn't check it out to much, and no, I did not pull on the thing.  I'm too busy and exhausted to even worry about a weird worm/vein in my child's mouth.  Luckily, I didn't fret, because it appears to have crawled back into the hole it came from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a bit worried Will's going to turn out with the same temper I've suffered from, particularly in childhood.  He's such a loving, good natured guy until something doesn't go his way, or most often, when someone does him wrong.  When he's decided someone's out to get him, he reacts with a gusto that would make Ali proud.  He's a full-force attacker and he's a natural when it comes to hitting.  He's a coordinated little bugger and he can pack power with his punches, one and a half or not.  Will doesn't limit himself to flailing fists, he's got enough stout to bowl his opponent over, as well.  Typically, Nate's the recipient of Will's outbursts, and honestly, Nate deserves 99% of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate can be downright cruel to Will.  I can't yet tell if he's intending to hurt Will or make his life difficult, or if it's just curiosity that brings out the mean big brother behavior Nate's displaying.  Nate usually laughs while he's standing on Will and bouncing on him (something that happened tonight) or throwing sand in Will's face and piling it in his hair, etc.  I don't think Nate's that evil.  I hope.  I think he's just seeing what reaction he'll get.  His finding-his-limits-work-ethic is enviable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're working on listening with Nate.  Actually, it's more like he's working on not listening with us.  It's been grating a bit on Ricks' and my nerves.  I know he's not the only 2 year old out there practicing his not listening skills, but it gets a bit tiring, none-the-less.  Rick tried the "Volcan Grip" which was grabbing Nate's shoulders hard while looking him in the eye to make sure he understood "do not open the door when we ask you not to" (and the first time and not the 5th would be a bonus).  Didn't really work, but kudos to Rick for trying a new grip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys are not only becoming worst enemies, they're also becoming best friends.  This is the part that really warms me and gives me hope for the future.  They love to chase each other around and get such a kick out of themselves, I can't imagine what they would do without each other.  As Nate said to Will in the car this afternoon, "I love you, Silly Goose!".  Just repeating the words in my head brings a smile to my face.  Nate sat pondering in his car seat for a while, then asked "where are all my friends?".  He had forgotten his best friend was sitting right next to him.  That's what helps me survive the tough moments of having a one and two year old.  I know that no matter what happens to me and Rick, they'll always have each other.  aahhh I must be sleepy because that sounds pretty sappy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-7431113669518591239?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/7431113669518591239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=7431113669518591239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/7431113669518591239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/7431113669518591239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/05/sometimes-i-slack-because-im-sleepy-and.html' title='Sometimes I slack because I&apos;m sleepy and have heartburn'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-645251843263350884</id><published>2008-04-28T20:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T20:57:35.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's too warm to think of a title</title><content type='html'>We're on the mend in this house - thank goodness!  We managed to make it through Will's horrific stomach flu just in time to pull off a lovely baby shower for my wonderful girlfriend, Colby, at our house on Saturday.  Rick (a day after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lasik&lt;/span&gt; eye surgery) took the boys and dogs over to his brother's home for the day, so it was a special treat for the ladies (well, at least this one in particular).  As much as I love the kids, I couldn't have been happier to take a time out for a tasty brunch with some wonderful women without worrying about who was getting into what.  And my amazing gal pals even picked up!  Now if I could only get the boys to be better about that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's been saying and doing a lot of funny things lately.  I've been wanting to get on here so I can share them without forgetting.  For one, we joined some fun friends at their community pool yesterday and were debating if we should bring some booze.  While we were considering if booze would be appropriate or not, Nate had gone into his play room and had come out with one of his favorite die cast cars from the movie Cars named Boost.  He's said, "I got Boost, Mom and Dad!".  So, the matter was settled.  We brought the car and left the "booze" at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate was having so much fun with his friend, Dylan, later that night, he wet his pants and kicked them off, along with his shoes, without interrupting the shooting video game they were "playing" in the arcade at the pizza joint we went to with our friends for dinner.  I think it's the first time he's wet his pants in public and he didn't have a care in the world.  He was just shooting away with his little red plastic gun in a t-shirt and monster truck briefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too bad my brain's too pooped to think of the other things at this point.  I've been working hard on getting us squared away for our family cruise to Alaska in July.  I'm pretty much set for getting the boys their passports (I know - to Alaska? but it's pretty much a requirement on the cruise lines these days).  When I went to get Rick's and my passport from their special spot today, they weren't there.  I'm either sweating because I'm nervous about where they might be or because it's hot as heck in our house.  It's been 90 plus degrees lately!  My worst fear is that they were taken by someone on the moving crew or a cleaning person.  I wouldn't be surprised if passport's are a hot sale so near the border.  I'm so flighty sometimes, I would think it was me, but 1. Rick and I have never used our passports at the same time so they've never been out of the drawer at the same time, 2. our expired passports were still there, 3. we've always kept our passports in this same location, and 4. we both searched the house (and Rick, his office) high and low with no luck.  Though I'm a bit peeved we haven't found them, it was a great excuse to clear out a lot of papers I needed to go through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the kids.  Lately, I've been annoying myself with my nagging at Nate (particularly) and Will.  It becomes a cycle at times where we're just continuously nagging at each other.  It takes a lot of energy and up-beat enthusiasm to break the circle.  Sometimes I feel too plain tired to make the effort.  Even though I'm irritating myself by saying "don't do that", "no", and "treat each other kindly" (constantly), I often find myself taking the lazy road.  I could use a little help to hop on top of the great mom pony.  Maybe a week at a spa would rejuvenate me.  In fact, I do have a couple gift certificates to put to use and a sitter for a date night this Saturday.  Hurray!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-645251843263350884?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/645251843263350884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=645251843263350884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/645251843263350884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/645251843263350884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-too-warm-to-think-of-title.html' title='It&apos;s too warm to think of a title'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-7677335787256265513</id><published>2008-04-23T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T07:58:36.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hodgepodge</title><content type='html'>Poor Will's still battling his terrible flu. I took him to the emergency room Saturday (for 6 long hours) and they gave him an IV to rehydrate him and anti-nausea medicine that works like a miracle with vomiting. Unfortunately, it has no effect on the other end. We're both pretty tired of it all at this point, though, I can't complain. At least I'm not dealing with a raw bottom, endless &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;diarrhea&lt;/span&gt;, and legs shaking from exhaustion. Most importantly, the rest of us have not (yet - fingers crossed) gotten sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's regressing on his toilet training. Yesterday he had three or four accidents. At first I thought he might have a urinary tract infection. He'd been so good before. Now, I think it may be linked to Will getting all the attention with his illness. Nate hasn't had any accidents at school, or anywhere away of the house, since his backslide. He's even been staying dry at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was within inches of really letting it rip on Nate last night. I know it's not fair and I have truly been unable to give him the attention he deserves the last several days. This flu's been all-consuming and I cannot wait for little Will to get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rick's been my only relief, and I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have some down time once he gets home, not to take on diarrhea diaper duty so I can get away for errands. It feels like we're living parallel lives at this point, we're so busy trying to be the best at work and with the kids. We need to reconnect with some great dates where we can actually laugh and have fun together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rick's having laser eye surgery on Friday and because the doctor's in San Diego, I won't be able to be with him. He'll stay the night at his parent's down there and his mom will take him to the surgery. Makes my throat hurt a little thinking what a big deal this is for him and I won't be able to support him. It's just one more thing we're doing separately these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate just came downstairs and peed all over the tile. Patience. Patience. Do I put a diaper on his butt? Should I spank it first? Put him in his room? I've been trying to do the right thing by talking to him about being a big boy, having him clean it up and change, and we even "practiced" last night. Obviously those things aren't working. I'm really close to losing my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a happier note, my parents sent Will a balloon bouquet (Will's a balloon fanatic) which has really brightened his last couple days (he's helping push keys and move the mouse while I type - I can't say it's been really helpful). And they sent me a tulip bouquet and chocolates yesterday. Thank goodness for moms and dads. If only my kids can say that some day. I could cry (I'm a bit emotional right now) thinking about my parent's devotion and love for us and how whole-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;heartedly&lt;/span&gt; I love them. I would do anything for them and I only wish we could live closer. Times like these are easier to swallow when you have the support of family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of friends, my wonderful girlfriends, Kimberly and Colby, each made us dinners the last couple nights. They are amazing women, each juggling as much or more than me, and they made an extraordinary effort to make my life easier. Thank you, ladies! They allowed me time to have my hair done and to run errands last night, and eased Rick's burden of feeding the kids while I was out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my sister, Natalie, finds out is she's going to have a boy or girl. Even though I'd be equally thrilled with either, I still can hardly wait to get the news. Nate's certain it's a boy. He points at her tummy and says "there's a baby boy in there." We'll see if he's right. No matter how rough it gets, there are always wonderful things to look forward to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-7677335787256265513?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/7677335787256265513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=7677335787256265513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/7677335787256265513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/7677335787256265513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/04/hodgepodge.html' title='A Hodgepodge'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-5728872924973790562</id><published>2008-04-18T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:06:37.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Travel, Dentist, Vomit and More Vomit</title><content type='html'>We are back home after a wonderful and extended trip to Washington to see my family and friends.  Nate, Will &amp;amp; I flew alone for the first (&amp;amp; 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;) time, and amazingly, all went fairly well.  Other than a tremendous tantrum from Will before getting on the plane when leaving Orange County, the boys were remarkably well-behaved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tantrum was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;doozy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, and I believe it was large enough that it filled our travel quota for the trip.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Twice&lt;/span&gt; Will kicked off both his shoes &amp;amp; socks (a first!) he was flailing so violently, throwing himself to the ground, melting out of my arms . . . he was sweating through his shirt, a snotty sheen covering his face and tears dripping off his chin.  For the life of me, I could not find out what was wrong.  Will's not the one who typically throws such a tantrum and this one was a spectacle.  People literally gathered in a half circle around us (we were on the ground by the line at McDonald's in the terminal).  A lady, probably close to 80 years old, gave us fries to try.  Will is a renowned &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;snacker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, but the fries didn't even phase him.  The fit lasted probably 20 minutes.  I was trying to put on the loving, concerned, but not-too-much-of-a-push-over-mom-show.  I'm sure there were people taking notes on my poor parenting and obnoxious child, but I hope, and believe, some moms were cheering me on and were impressed by my external calm and composure.  I'm pretty sure people were paying the airline staff to not sit with us.  Thankfully, the clouds parted and Will was flying high by the time the plane took off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trip was great and Will only got two ear infections, a green snotty nose &amp;amp; wheezing lungs.  Nate chimed in with all of the above, except he only had one ear infection.  We postponed our return flight by a couple days so the anti&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;biotics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; could kick in, and thankfully, the boys didn't seem to be in pain on the plane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, the boys, me, and our babysitter, Jordan (as a second helping hand), went to the dentist.  Will's teething something awful, so they didn't bother examining him.  However, they managed to find $750 worth of work on me (cheap compared to the $3000 we paid for my teeth a few months ago - ??? the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hygienist&lt;/span&gt; said the pregnancies are to blame - I'd rather be paying $4000 on a perky pair of breasts and a tight little tummy).  Nate said he wanted to have his teeth cleaned and he was excellent while the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hygienist&lt;/span&gt; polished away on those pearly little things.  Jordan took Will for a walk while I got my x-rays.  Nate refused to go.  I think he was afraid of what was going to happen to me.  He told me "don't do it, Mommy", but I smiled away because aren't x-rays fun?!  Eventually he relaxed and got a kick out of the pictures of my teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would think that, and then a wild lunch at Chuck-E-Cheese with our new friends Heidi and Dylan would have been enough for today.  However, Will's little tummy had a different idea.  He started holding his tummy and then getting diarrhea at C-E-C.  He wouldn't even eat a piece of desert pizza (huh?).  He woke not long after he went down for his nap and vomited his formula all over his bed and both pillows.  Ever since, it's been a constant flow of watery goods out the back and yummy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;yums&lt;/span&gt; out the front.  If something goes in, it immediately comes out.  Today included more snuggling from Will than I've gotten out of him his entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That reminds me of a funny moment, not long after his initial throw-up.  I've had issues in the past with fainting and having seizures when I've randomly gotten hurt in the past years.  It's called a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Cardiogenic&lt;/span&gt; Syncope, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;.  Anyway, after getting Will cleaned up and his sheets off his bed, I was carrying Will on my hip into the bathroom to get disinfecting wipes out from under the sink (they work great for cleaning off the plastic mattress protectors in times like these).  I tried to use my foot to open the cupboard when somehow I slipped and scrapped up my chin on the corner of the cupboard door.  Hard.  I immediately started sweating and seeing spots, so I got down on the floor and lay on my back as quickly as I could.  If I can get blood to my brain quickly, I can stop myself from fainting.   Last thing I needed was to pass out while standing and holding a sick little Will.  I cold-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;sweated&lt;/span&gt; for a while on the ground and forced happy talk out of myself to Nate, who was wondering why I was lying on the bathroom floor, and Will, who was cuddling fetal-style on my chest and stomach.   I, as I often find myself, was again thinking "I can't believe this is happening to me".  My life is filled with many strange and funny moments.  I just cannot imagine these things happening to other people.  I started to chuckle thinking about our situation.  Then Will ripped a few "man" farts.  The poor boy, his tummy was so upset, and I started belly-laughing.  I felt bad for Will, who was serious and really not feeling well.  What kind of mom laughs at her sick child's farts?  Later, Nate was laughing at Will's farts and I told him, "Be nice to your brother.  He's not feeling well and it's not funny."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I was mowing the lawn yesterday because it had grown quite long while we were on vacation.  I was pushing the mower through a tight area and got stuck by a nasty spike on a palm tree/plant thing.  The place were I was poked looked like a small volcano, minus lava.  It still hurts like a son-of-a-gun.  It's like a bad tetanus shot.  Go figure.  Oh, and I also forgot to mention I just sat back down after changing Will's clothes, fitted sheet, and crib pads that were covering his bed because the poor guy vomited all over them.  He's already back to sleep.  I just couldn't love that sick little baby more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-5728872924973790562?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/5728872924973790562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=5728872924973790562' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5728872924973790562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5728872924973790562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/04/travel-dentist-vomit-and-more-vomit.html' title='Travel, Dentist, Vomit and More Vomit'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-6228209690542673688</id><published>2008-04-07T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T19:57:30.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Off we go into the wild blue yonder . . .</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to give a quick update as we're heading for Washington State tomorrow to visit my side of the family.  This will be the first time I fly alone with the boys.  The flight's about two hours and forty-five minutes long and let's hope it's an uneventful and very quick few hours.  On one of our last flights Will cried for maybe an hour and finally passed out in Rick's arms in the galley at the back of the plane.  We found out this week that Will needs tubes for his ears.  His surgery's scheduled on the 25&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of this month - hopefully his ears don't fail us now when I'm hoping for them to be on their best behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a Target run and picked up small puzzles, a sticker book, a couple small monster trucks, planes and matchbox cars and I'm going to bring  a slew of treats that would be on our no-go list for any other occasion.  It'll be like we're celebrating a birthday in the friendly skies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's been a superstar toilet trainer.  He hasn't had an accident for a few days and he's doing well at night.  The last two mornings I've woken up to hearing him using the bathroom and his bed's been dry.  Hallelujah!  I can hardly believe we survived, and fairly unscathed.  And here I nearly gave up at the start of it all, and remember? I even dropped my first two f bombs in front of the kids (not pretty).  Now that seems long past and we're on the road heading for whatever hurdle decides to pop up next.  Probably Will's bottle hitting the door.  Sorry Will!  I'll wait for after his tube surgery for that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We often ask Nate if he's cute and he always replies "no".  This last couple times I've asked him if he's handsome and he's said "no", as well.  When I ask what he is, he says "lucky".  It's a very random and cute thing.  I hope he is lucky because who wouldn't want to be that?  Hopefully we'll have some of that luck on our flight tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-6228209690542673688?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/6228209690542673688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=6228209690542673688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6228209690542673688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6228209690542673688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/04/off-we-go-into-wild-blue-yonder.html' title='Off we go into the wild blue yonder . . .'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-1198122723917108386</id><published>2008-04-02T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T21:58:54.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you like whine with that new language?</title><content type='html'>Today started out on a sour note.  I'm never sure if I'm in a bad/impatient mood and it spreads to the boys or if they're in bad moods and it spreads to me.  However it comes about, it seems, if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;someone is&lt;/span&gt; in the dumps, there's no way to stop that stink from spreading throughout the house.  It is in times like these I have to dig really deep to muster enough strength to be the one who brings positivity, happiness, and the good vibes back around.  I'm the grown up so I have to force myself to act like one.  Admittedly, I do feel like talking smack to the boys, and being stubborn and a big baby myself.  It takes an embarrassingly large amount of self discipline for me to take the high road.  If things aren't going my way, sure, I want to whine and throw tantrums, too.  However, I'm on a tantrum strike.  We've got enough of those going on around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's been going through an awful spell of whining.  There's a lot of fake crying going on around here and why all of a sudden does he want me to carry him everywhere?  My first thought is that if he's whining to get his way maybe he thinks that works for him and if he continues to whine, he'll continue to get his way.  However, as loving as I'd hope to be, I find myself being a kind of blunt, no-nonsense, kind of an "a-hole" and impatient mom.  I'm not the type to give in to whining.  In fact, the sound puts a knot in my stomach.  I just cannot stand it.  At all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been telling Nate "when you stop whining I'll be able to understand you" and "use your words to tell me what's wrong and maybe I can help you" and some "I know you're not a baby, so you shouldn't need to act like one to get your way"s thrown in there, too.  Not really working.  When he wants to be carried around (which is okay on occasion, but give the old arms a break!) I've been telling him "I know you're a big boy.  Why don't we just hold hands while we walk."  I'm hoping these nice little sentences will help because inside I want to scream my head off.  Sorry to unload, but it's better typing than verbally hearing myself whine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's talk nicely about Nate now because he was a great boy at the park tonight.  Rick often takes the boys on a bike ride at night while I get dinner ready.  As I mentioned before, Rick's out of town.  So, I thought it'd be nice to take the boys on a ride after dinner (trim those thighs, girl!), and eventually we ended up back at the park near our house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a 2 year old girl playing at the park with her dad and the boys were infatuated with her (making her cry a couple times from trying to hug her and hold her hands).  Nate was so darned cute with her.  He tried asking her name to which her dad noted she doesn't speak English.  They seemed to be of Middle Eastern decent and their dialect had a lot of fun sound to it.  Nate introduced himself and tried to shake her hand as he said "nice to meet you" (proud mom!).  When she didn't respond to him, Nate seemed to understand what the dad was saying about her not understanding English because he started "talking" to her in her language.  I thought I was going to die laughing, though I sucked it up as much as I could because I didn't want to offend the man and his daughter.  Nate would inquire to the little girl "Dop bog?" or "Pap gab?" or something to the sort, which mimicked the sounds of the language the father would speak to the daughter.  Nate was completely serious and waiting for answers from the little girl.  I was just beside myself.  Actually, I still am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-1198122723917108386?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/1198122723917108386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=1198122723917108386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1198122723917108386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1198122723917108386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/04/would-you-like-whine-with-that-new.html' title='Would you like whine with that new language?'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-8296943612730255723</id><published>2008-04-01T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T21:07:55.229-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loving Will and the Natertot</title><content type='html'>The boys just went to sleep.  Rick had to fly to Portland for a couple days and is driving up to my see my parent's and our family paper mill to learn about some of the machines the mill uses.  He's covering a company that sells equipment &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;comparable&lt;/span&gt; to the equipment Grays Harbor Paper uses.  Anyhoo, it's just me right now, enjoying the dark and quiet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a little emotional putting the boys down tonight.  Will, in particular.  Whenever we give Will a  bottle (which we still do before nap and bedtime) he giggles with joy.  He runs up on his bed, flops on his back and reaches for the good stuff.  I'm going to feel bad taking it away, which I'll do soon.  He was quiet for a while after having his bottle in bed tonight but eventually started fussing.  His gums are so swollen, and his voice so nasaly, I think he's just having a hard time getting to sleep with a sore mouth.  So after a while of the fussing, I went in and gave him a kiss and hug and laid him back down.  Usually that's it, but he grabbed me by the back of the neck (with real force) and pulled me down so I had to lie next to him on the bed.  He got a good chuckle at his success, kind of like when he gets his bottle.  I'm another soothing method for him, I suppose.  I don't spend a lot of snuggle-time with the kids, which is one of my downfalls, so I decided to give the little guy what he needed: extra love from his mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will was snuggled up beside me and would look back at me every 20 seconds or so and giggle a litttle more.  He was just so happy I was there with him.  It makes my eyes a little watery thinking about how sweet he is and how lucky we are to have him as our son.  If things would have worked out like we planned, little Will wouldn't have been here, or at least not for a few years after we had Nate.  I never hoped or expected to be pregnant while nursing a 3 month old baby.  I cannot say enough how thankful I am that our little "accident" occured.  He's my mini-me and every time I look at him he pulls my heart strings.  He has the world's biggest smile and he's always quick to laugh and to wave hello and good-bye to strangers.  I couldn't love the little guy more or be more proud to be his mom.  (note to self: read this when I'm upset/stressed/pulling my hair out)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's been trying really hard with his potty training.  I feel bad that he had a couple accidents today because he was trying so hard.  One accident came after we were watching Nanny 911 (our first time watching it together and it worked out to be a good show for talking about behavior issues and resolution together), and the little girl was being potty trained on the show.  Of course, Nate was very excited and hoped up and said he had to pee pee, too.  Off he ran to the bathroom (literally).  He was taking a while so I went to check on him.  Unfortunately, he couldn't get his pants down because his belt was too tight and had an accident and was trying to clean up.  Poor kiddo!  The other accident came after we got home from the post office this afternoon (always a thrill with a one and two year old) and I undid Nate's seatbelts, left his door open, and went to get Will out as I always do.  I thought Nate was exploring at the neighbor's or hiding somewhere, but he actually ran so quickly to the house I hadn't seen him pass me.  He was standing on the front mat with wet pants.  Darn!  We'll get this down sometime soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, our washing machine is on the fritz.  It won't flush the water out after the rinse cycle, so there's about a foot or so of water in the washer.  This IS NOT A GOOD TIME to have the washer break down.  Talk about a pile of pee clothes stinking up the laundry room!  I'm going to have to hose them down (not to mention Nate's sheets and comforter because he had an accident last night).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys and I will be flying up to Washington on our own next week.  Call me crazy.  I figure it may be a flight from hell (if Will screams for an hour or two as he has on a couple flights), but as long as we're on the plane, we'll end up in Seattle.  I think I better start trialing sleepy-time meds to sedate our wild ones.  "Wild Bill" as Nate &amp;amp; Rick call Will.  Time for me to get to the dishes.  Good night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-8296943612730255723?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/8296943612730255723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=8296943612730255723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/8296943612730255723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/8296943612730255723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/04/loving-will-and-natertot.html' title='Loving Will and the Natertot'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-4479332450294043097</id><published>2008-03-31T13:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T14:06:17.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Good Day (!?)</title><content type='html'>Today has been a great day.  It's not often I feel like I can say that, but today's been a hum-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dinger&lt;/span&gt;.  The boys both slept through the night and until nearly 7am this morning.  Nate stayed dry through the night and has used the toilet every time he's needed to go today.  Yes! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started the day with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wonderkids&lt;/span&gt; class at the YMCA this morning.  I put Will in childcare so Nate and I could spend one on one time together (Will's 1-2 year old class is on Thursday mornings); plus, I could be more flexible if Nate needed to get to the bathroom quickly or had an accident in class.  We made it through class without an incident, got Will (who was sad to have been on his own, bless his sweet little heart), used the bathroom again and headed out to play at the adjoining park.  (Fun fact: one of the boys favorite activities at the Y is pushing buttons.  They race to be the first to push the ADA door opening button and the inside and outside elevator buttons.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After enjoying the toys and sun for a bit, we loaded up, compared our toy monster-gator-truck (lawn utility vehicle) to a real one (sans the monster part) parked next to our truck, then headed to our favorite lunch time hangout: Chuck-E-Cheese!  We belted out cheesy kids tunes on the way to emphasis our happiness.  Will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;squealed&lt;/span&gt; with delight when we pulled into the parking lot.  Chuck-E-Cheese is the one place where I can let the kids run fairly wild and not have to worry 100% about them (just about 75%).  They stamp our hands and no one's let out without a parent with a matching stamp.  It's a great idea because it's hard to keep track of toddlers let loose.  It's also less than $7 for an all-you-can-eat pizza &amp;amp; salad buffet and kids 2 &amp;amp; under can eat from your buffet for free - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;cha&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ching&lt;/span&gt;! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys were top-notch at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;CEC's&lt;/span&gt;.  They listened, shared and we all had a blast (and stayed dry!).  A highlight of my day was when I played my favorite game at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;CEC&lt;/span&gt;, Deal or No Deal (like the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;game show&lt;/span&gt;), and I went for the double deal (2 tokens with a chance of winning 80 tickets!) and came down to my case either having 4 tickets or 80.  The dealer offered me 41 tickets to buy my case, but no way!  I went for the whammy and won 80 tickets!!  Okay, so you can see my priorities in life.  I still can't help my heart from racing a little just thinking about it.  Let's just be thankful we don't live near a casino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Will's sleeping soundly in his big boy bed and Nate's relaxing on the couch.  I'm soaking up some rays in the backyard with the laptop on my lap.  Not bad.  Not bad at all.  I'm taking advantage of my happiness and quiet time because I know it can all change in a moment.  It's times like this that make the hard times bearable.  I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel (did I just say that the other day)?  The boys are finally getting in-sync with their sleep and are getting bigger by the day.  I've been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;transferring&lt;/span&gt; clothes from Nate's room into Will's this week.  They're both going through growth spurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will was so adorable this morning.  I was emptying the dishwasher and he got one of his plates and a fork out and put his blueberry bar on his plate and was calling me to get help up on his booster chair at the table.  He's got life figured out.  He's a good-natured boy and he's becoming so much more independent.  It's been a relief to me because he's been such a mama's boy for so long.  As nice as it is to know you're needed, it's also nice to have two hands to make a meal, empty the dishwasher, do laundry, vacuum, and when you need to, to wipe your own you know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will's been slow on the go when it comes to teeth.  At 18 months his only teeth that are completely in are the four front ones.  To the side of each of those he has four more teeth that are about 1/2 way in.  And that's it!  His molar's are trying to break through and his back gums are swollen to the point of looking kind of gross.  At least then the poor kid will be able to get a decent chew on his food.  You can tell he's in pain at times and he's not always able to eat as much as he'd like because they're sore, so we're looking forward to getting these buggers in and the whole painful process over with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping I don't get back on this thing tonight with a list of tantrums and "not okay" behavior.  So far so good and I wish the same to you other moms out there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-4479332450294043097?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/4479332450294043097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=4479332450294043097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4479332450294043097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4479332450294043097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/good-day.html' title='A Good Day (!?)'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-6310154612292629747</id><published>2008-03-28T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T15:20:19.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SaZoo!</title><content type='html'>I'm in a jolly mood this moment.  I think it's because I just listed our Thomas the Train ride-on &amp;amp; track on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;craigslist&lt;/span&gt;.com.  It's an awesome toy, but we just don't have room for it in our new house.  I love getting rid of things almost as much as I enjoy finding them for great deals.  It's such a weight lifted off me when I sell and give our things away.  I'm all for finding a home for "stuff" where's it's going to be most enjoyed.  If it's not getting love around here, it's time to find a home where it's appreciated.  Now that I got that out . . . ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had quite the adventure this morning.  Nate, Will and I went to the Santa Ana Zoo this morning with my friend, Kimberly, and her two-year-old, Kelli, and one-year-old, Daniel.  Kimberly's parents, who are wonderful people, joined us - thank you for grandparents!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love doing things with Kimberly because she's going through the same things I am.  The more moms I know, the happier I am.  I'm able to feel a bit more normal when going through the "interesting" things I go through because all the other moms are dealing with it, too.  There are no perfectly behaved children and even the most eager-to-please have breakdowns, too.  In fact, no mom with an out of control child need to apologize for their display to me.  I'm always happy to see another kid in full-throttle tantrum mode.  It's just a reminder that my crazy tots are going through the same phases other kids their age go through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will was being his fairly good natured self today, but Nate, not so much.  I don't know if it was from being overly excited, tired, or what, but he had a few full-blown breakdown tantrums at the zoo.  I had to really pour on the patience (oh, it's so hard to keep my composure but I'm trying so hard!!).  I wanted to bop my little wild animal, but I know it would only justify his kicking me in the chins.  He actually has scrapes on his legs from throwing himself down so hard on the ground.  In front of a hundred (easily) other people and kids.  His face was brilliant red, sweat streaking, tears spraying, and why?  I'm not sure.  I can't remember one thing that triggered an attack. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One episode began in the women's restroom.  There was a fairly long line (of course) and for some reason Nate refused to come out of the bathroom stall when we were done.  I tried to talk to him "normally" but he went into immediate fit mode and collapsed on the nasty bathroom floor.  I "assisted" him out of the stall using the patented lift-the-kid-by-the-arm-under-the-armpit-area and let the next cross-legged lady use the bathroom.  Nate then collapsed again and tried to crawl/curl up under the sink behind the garbage can.  I had to wash his hands on two occasions before we got out of the bathroom because he kept throwing himself on the ground. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, he had a time out against the bathroom wall (where he did eventually regain control of himself), and then . . . where did Will go?  He'd just followed us out of the bathroom and while I was placing Nate in a time out he had just disappeared.  There were people and kids everywhere.  We were right next to the playground, restaurant, etc.  I told Nate to stay put while I scanned the kids as quickly as I could.  I ran back into the bathroom.  Not there.  I had a man check the men's room.  Not there.  I scanned the playground.  Not there.  I hollered to my friends who began looking.  He seemed to have vanished.  A terrible, terrible feeling for any mom.  Eventually, Kimberly's dad spied him a hundred feet away or so heading to the exit.  He was recovered and came trotting back with a great big smile.  Oh, William!  We'd had enough of the zoo.  It was time to head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will's big boy bed is working great.  When we use the box spring and the mattress on his bed frame, it is amazingly high.  It's like we're training an 18 month old to sleep on the second deck of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bunk bed&lt;/span&gt;.  I was a bit worried, but now I'm thrilled.  Will's too apprehensive (after a face-dive he realized it's a pretty serious distance to the ground) to get off the bed on his own.  We get the enjoyment of playing on his bed with him and the benefit of having him contained, to the same affect of a crib.  He is finally sleeping really well - about 12 hours a night and 2-3 in the afternoon.  He's been sleeping through the night most nights, too.  Which is awesome for Rick and me.  This is one of the perks of having the kids so close in age.  We see the light and it is beautiful!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-6310154612292629747?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/6310154612292629747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=6310154612292629747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6310154612292629747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6310154612292629747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/sazoo.html' title='SaZoo!'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-6032908313812073317</id><published>2008-03-26T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T09:53:34.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Naked Toilet Avenger</title><content type='html'>I'm enjoying one of those rare and special mornings when I'm up before the boys.  It's absolutely amazing how much I can get done without a couple little guys following me around and unraveling all my hard work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; . . . fast forward a couple hours.  My peaceful morning didn't last long!  Now we're on track and ready for some friends to come over to play.  I've got our new bubble machine from Target plumb full 'o suds and the pool over-flowing.  Juices are out on display and the kids have at least shirts on.   We're all set!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did did our "Toilet Training in Less Than a Day" go?  As the dogs like to say, "rough, rough, rough!".  We're still hard at work.  Or at least hard at work cleaning poop and pee off the floors, etc.  The first day was particularly grueling.  It took us over 5 hours of constant interaction, going through the books recommendations and getting Nate to respond "appropriately".  I had to be positive all the time with lots of praise and treats.  My throat was sore at the end of the day from gabbing such goodness at him for so long.  Too bad it didn't work! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so disappointed that we're having so many issues.  According to the book, even mentally challenged kids should be able to do it.  I guess Nate and/or I have serious issues!  Oh, well.  We're not going back to diapers and as exhausting as this has become, and ridiculously stressful.  We're in it for the long haul.  It's my stubborn side shining through.  Nate did do well at school - no accidents!  And he's kept his bed dry through two naps (he was so tired from the first couple days of training, I actually got naps out of him!) and two nights.  Two nights he's had accidents.  We're 50/50.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because Nate's often in various stages of undress, he got out the front door yesterday naked and went down the street and got our mail at the box.  Thankfully, I realized we had an escapee fairly quickly and rounded up the nudist &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;avenger&lt;/span&gt; before he got into too much trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is like fireworks of destruction going off around me.  I have to go, our friends should be here any minute.  And yes, I unfortunately let off some fireworks of my own yesterday and even shouted two "f bombs"!  I guess being overtly positive for a few days straight was a bit much for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-6032908313812073317?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/6032908313812073317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=6032908313812073317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6032908313812073317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6032908313812073317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/naked-toilet-avenger.html' title='The Naked Toilet Avenger'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-655519340939105001</id><published>2008-03-21T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T08:08:54.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If we could only vacuum the lawn poop . . .</title><content type='html'>I'm watching my first recorded Nanny 911 and I already have my house rules written up. Just a few basics: no hitting or kicking, respect each others space and things, and no hurtful words. I think those will do for now. I'm going to put them up on the wall and will be using it for myself, too. I might even put together a bit of a schedule. Or maybe not. I believe schedules are good for stability and transitioning from activities throughout the day, but I'm also hesitant because I believe they have the ability to take away the kids' abilities to adapt to change and one might put a bit of a kink in our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;spontaneous adventures. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;I read an article a while back that's stuck with me regarding the issue of scheduling. I think it was in Newsweek (which I read fairly religiously before kids . . . somehow those issues don't seem so vital to me anymore). It said that kids entering the workplace are having issues with asserting themselves, taking charge of their jobs, making the decisions that need to be made, adapting to issues that arise, etc. Apparently, so many kids are raised with a specific, preset routine, they are not able to make decisions and take ownership of themselves when the time comes. The article really scared me and I've thought about it a lot over the last couple years. I think it relates to the self-regulation article which was also such an eye-opener for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;On a more fun note, I ordered myself a Dyson vacuum (and an ice cream cake!) for my birthday, this last Friday. The vacuum got here yesterday - wee!! I got a great deal on a refurbished one from a dealership through ebay. It looks snazzy and works like a charm! You don't even have to adjust the height; it automatically raises and lowers to what it senses. No snafoos between the tile and the shag rug and you wouldn't believe all the nasties it picked up. Our carpets were professionally cleaned (with a big waxing looking machine and everything) before we moved in a month and a half ago, so I was particularly thrilled to fill so much of the canister. I can't wait for the floors to get dirty again. Ok, I won't go that far, but vacuuming will be a lot more fun from this point on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was vacuuming the upstairs with my new Dyson, the boys were working on a project of their own: pouring soft face powder all around the bathroom and nicely placing my toiletries in the master toilet.  I took a picture that I'll place on the blog so you can see what a lovely masterpiece our toilet became.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Night before last we were playing in the back yard at dusk. Rick was figuring out something with the sprinklers and Nate decided he wanted to strip down and run through them. It was really cool out, so it didn't sound too appealing to me. However, Nate went for it and it generated a lot of laughs from us as we watched his bare, skinny body glowing in the dark, running through sprinklers. I told him "Nate, you don't need a diaper, you can just pee in the back yard like the dogs!". Sure enough he started whizzing in the grass, thrilled at the sight of the spray going left, right, and wherever his little hips could direct it. I turned around to get something and when I looked back thirty seconds later, he had pooped in the grass! He had somehow gotten some on his foot and was smearing it on the patio - gross! We couldn't help but getting a good chuckle before we hosed him down, groady little kid!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-655519340939105001?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/655519340939105001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=655519340939105001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/655519340939105001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/655519340939105001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/if-we-could-only-vacuum-lawn-poop.html' title='If we could only vacuum the lawn poop . . .'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-4858075162182468111</id><published>2008-03-19T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T18:09:22.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nanny 911 Give Me a Call</title><content type='html'>The Great Nate had a pretty rough morning.  At one point in the car he told me "I want to scratch you, Mommy, and pinch you and bite you and hurt you and give you time out in Uncle David &amp;amp; Aunt Natalie's room (they've both used our guest room over the last couple weeks) apparently for my driving skills, as I'd just been driving along minding my own business.  Ow, my feelings (and probably my skin if I'd been within reach!).  It makes me sad that he's been getting so angry and defiant lately.  Everything I do is to try to keep my kids happy, healthy, and to help them be good people.  That's it, really.  I've felt like I'm failing in a lot of ways lately.  I'm doing the best I can, but I've got a great desire to do better.  Our house is often filled with tension and that's no fun.  If the Nanny 911 lady's looking for a home, I'd be happy to host her in our guest room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always looking for tips.  I have several parenting magazine subscriptions: Parenting, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Babytalk&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wondertime&lt;/span&gt;, Cookie and maybe even more.  I'm behind on my reading, but I ought to catch up.  The little bits of advice I've picked up in those crazy mags have helped me with my sanity and happiness.  It never hurts to know others are going through what I'm going through.  That's part of why I'm blogging.  I hope other women can relate with my situation and hopefully feel better about their own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The meatloaf and biscuits are done.  Rick took Will for a bike ride to pick up some paperwork at the vets so I still have time to jabber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning we dyed Easter eggs.  I think we ended up with a survival rate of 6 out of 12 (and a couple of those are cracked).  A few were so badly cracked we gobbled them up.  The boys were actually quite cute and well behaved.  I mean, who can help but toss a couple of the eggs and pour dye on the floor, etc.?  The eggs will not be winning any contests with their looks, but they're my favorite Easter eggs I've ever help make.  I can hardly wait to hide them for the boys this weekend and let 'em rip in the back yard.  Here comes Will...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-4858075162182468111?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/4858075162182468111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=4858075162182468111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4858075162182468111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4858075162182468111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/nanny-911-give-me-call.html' title='Nanny 911 Give Me a Call'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-1600585838172578334</id><published>2008-03-18T16:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T17:54:01.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Reality</title><content type='html'>After having my sister, then my parents, then my brother visit this month (yeah!), I'm back on my own with my crazy crew. It was my birthday on the 14&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Thirtyonebigones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I'm hoping to find my best self this decade. Ideally, I'd like to get into the best shape of my life. I've got a ways to go after the body my kids left me when they took the love canal to planet earth. It's a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;unpretty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; under my clothes these days. Just gives me more incentive to work out and make it better. Really, at this point, I'm assuming it can only get better (before it gets much worse!). I finally went to see a dermatologist. I've got the pimples of a middle-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;schooler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I like to call myself a "sensitive skin person", though, it takes a serious hammering to make me bruise. Now Nate's at my side asking to see my belly button again. I like to call it "my big eye belly button" because that's what it looks like these days. Why doesn't he like to see my knee or hands?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to take a time out to chase Nate in circles in our open/empty living room. He and Will love to run in circles, squealing like stampeding piggies. "Get me, Mom! Get me, Dad! Get me Uncle David, Grandpa" or whoever else is lucky enough to be near the action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a school day for Nate. For some reason on the way home his sweet demeanor turned to black. He was giving me his favorite, "Go away, Mom!" (mean tone and all!). He probably said it 15 times with me trying to 1) rationalize with him (with a two year old? I'm not sure why I still try), 2) ignore him and I finally had to resort to 3) pinching. It was a barbarian thing to do, but I was stuck in the front seat in line at a fast food joint (typical) and I had to come out as the top dog some how. I absolutely hate inflicting pain on my kids. I never feel better about the situation when I do it and I feel like it's a losing situation and setting a bad example for my kids. Plus, I don't think they learn how to control their emotions when that's my tactic. Sometimes, though, I can't think of a darned thing else to do. So today, I sadly resorted to a few &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;pinchy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-poos on Nate's legs. I do have to say it stopped (after a bit of a crying spell) the "Go away!"s. Later, when we were home and all was good again, Nate pointed to a picture of a baby crying in a book we have and said "that's me crying in the car". Pretty cute. I do have to say he wanted to tell me to go away when I was cleaning him up after an oatmeal snack and instead, as we've been practicing, he gave me an alternate phrase, "Please don't, Mommy". Hallelujah!  (did I spell that right?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta get dinner going! I'll be back on track with the blogging now that we're back on our own, and just wait, I'm going to "Potty Train in Less Than a Day" Nate on Saturday! Get ready peeing dolly, I've got all the gear and we're ready to go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-1600585838172578334?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/1600585838172578334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=1600585838172578334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1600585838172578334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1600585838172578334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/after-having-my-sister-then-my-parents.html' title='Back to Reality'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-3494202678686846984</id><published>2008-03-11T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T20:04:40.267-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Siblings and the Devil Boy</title><content type='html'>My awesome sister, Natalie, had been in town for the last few days. She is so awesome. One of the reasons that no matter how difficult kids may be, I believe it's worth it to have more than one. My brother and sister are one of the biggest blessings in my life. David just got in tonight. He's come to help me celebrate my birthday, this Friday, March 14&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. The big 3-1. My parents are visiting, too. Natalie &amp;amp; I met our parents in San Diego for the West Coast Conference college basketball tourney to cheer on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gonzaga&lt;/span&gt; the last couple nights. We lost in the championship game to the University of San Diego. Good for Andrea. Not as much fun for us. I have to admit, I felt pretty good for those crazy SD kids storming the floor, going nuts. It's always fun to win, especially when it's unexpected. I had to talk down a SD kid in the street a little but I wasn't even feeling angry when I was trying to gently put him in his place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rick stepped up and took on the N &amp;amp; W Challenge (watching the boys while Nat &amp;amp; I headed south for both evenings), which was the best gift he could give me on my birthday week. As much as I love the little guys, I love getting out on my own, too. Particularly when it means hanging out with my sister I miss so much (she lives just outside of Denver). Natalie's a few months pregnant. I'm happy for her and maybe a little sad that her life as she knows it is going to be over in two snaps. That sounds pessimistic, but I'm being realistic. There's no turning back. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;daaaa&lt;/span&gt; I can hardly wait to meet their wonderful baby! Nate's certain it's a boy. It'll be interesting to see if he has some special sense (or at least wins the 50-50 bet). Did I mention my sister-in-law had a baby girl on the 7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;? Stella Ray. Can't wait to meet her tomorrow! I've had a heck of a head cold and am finally on the mend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will has an appointment with an ear-nose-throat specialist. The poor guy's had ear infections most every time we've been to the doctor which is a lot (we even went today - he's finally clear). He's a wild and crazy kid, but fairly good-natured for having yucky ear infections all the time. He might have to get tubes. That concept really freaked me out when I was a kid. As a mom, I just want him to be healthy and feel good. It's so much easier to be bright and shiny when you're feeling well. I'm not so bright and shiny, myself. I couldn't get back to sleep after Rick got up this morning at 4am. Around 5 or so, I got out of bed and put myself to work. It's amazing how much I can get done when the kids are sound asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate was "Friend of the Week" for his preschool class this week. I finished the special "all about Nate" poster in the 5 o' clock hour this morning so the glue would dry by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;class time&lt;/span&gt;. Natalie &amp;amp; I went to his class and I got a little sappy/teary eyed when he counted his classmates and sang the opening song, etc. Hello, get a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;grip&lt;/span&gt; on myself! He's just getting to be such a big boy, ya ya ya. Unfortunately, all the hype got Nate a bit fired up and I got a bad report when I went to pick him up at 12:30. Biting, hitting, kicking, clocked a girl in the side of the head with a large plastic cow.... and laughed when they cried. Great. Nice kid. I must be a great mom. I'm hoping the evil phase was a one-day deal. Not that he's the most gentle child, typically (he's into scratching people lately and we've resorted to one minute time outs for every "Go Away!!" he shouts at us), but he's not usually cruel. We'll have to watch the little devil closely. If he gets out of line again, I'll have to tell him to "Go Away!!" and give him a scratch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-3494202678686846984?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/3494202678686846984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=3494202678686846984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/3494202678686846984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/3494202678686846984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-awesome-sister-natalie-had-been-in.html' title='Siblings and the Devil Boy'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-3171972500474930816</id><published>2008-03-05T20:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T20:39:39.624-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Dreams</title><content type='html'>Rick and the kids are down for the count. I was debating hitting the hay, myself, but I opted for a bit of me time with Hannah (one of our two dogs), American Idol &amp;amp; some blog action. I'd be "blogging" in my mind in bed, anyway. I don't know if everyone does it, but I often catalog the days events and what's to come before I shut down by weary brain for the night. Then I get to go wherever my dreams take me, and strange how rarely my kids get to make appearances. I think I get plenty of kid-time during the day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I was on solo bedtime duty again (Rick has earnings this week, which means he's working even more than usual - up at 3:30am - not fun). The boys were their typical wonderfully active selves. I am always conscience of the attention I give them and do my best to balance the time and energy I share with each of them. Tonight they were fairly patient and understanding while I bounced from room to room. Usually I end the night with Nate, reading, then singing a few songs and giving the hugs and kisses routine. Will gets a little left out (even though he probably doesn't know yet because he's typically sleeping).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight Will was having a particularly difficult time getting to sleep. He's still wheezy and stuffy and I know, without my best pal, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Afrin&lt;/span&gt;, I wouldn't be able to sleep, either. So I went into his room after tucking Nate in and lay down on his bed. He pulled me close and held me super-tight and started laughing. I thought maybe because my breath was tickling his neck or ear. But I even held my breath and he still didn't stop laughing. He was just so happy I was there with him. He held me for the longest time (and Will is an A+ hugger - has been since he was really tiny). If I tried to pull away, he'd grab me and pull me closer so our cheeks would rest against each other. My smile went from my face to my toes. He just warmed my heart, that sweet baby. When it was time for me to pull away he panicked a little and grabbed my hand. He held it tightly while he finally drifted off to sleep. Such a nice way to end a fairly stressful day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-3171972500474930816?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/3171972500474930816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=3171972500474930816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/3171972500474930816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/3171972500474930816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/rick-and-kids-are-down-for-count.html' title='Sweet Dreams'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-4075959238523494954</id><published>2008-03-04T19:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T19:39:22.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Head in the Clouds</title><content type='html'>I started getting a runny nose last night and now it's a full-blown head cold. My back's achy and all I really want is a hot bath and to go to bed. Rick's studying, then has to go to bed so he can be up before the crack of dawn, so I'm default kid-watcher for the evening. My eyes are watery and I've got a lovely little headache, so computing is probably not the best thing to be doing. However, it's a heck of a lot better than watching another episode of Little Einsteins (a show our boys can watch over and over and still be absorbed in).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy, was I cranky this morning. I was swearing all kind of things at the kids in my head. There are good mom actions and bad mom actions. You can always chose the high road or the low road. This morning I was such a sour puss, I really wanted to take the low road. I wanted to berate &amp;amp; belittle the kids when they dumped q-tips in the toilet, emptied my bathroom drawers while I tried to get ready (eating the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chap stick&lt;/span&gt; and dusting the walls with blush), emptied my nightstand drawer and beat against the glass closet doors with objects they found inside (they do these things every morning, right next to me as I race to at least get my wet hair into a pony tail and snag a couple swipes of mascara). In my tired and irrational morning mom mind, I was quite sure if the kids felt worse than me, then I'd feel better. However crabby I was, I did realize that would be not make much sense, and would surely classify as really, really bad mom behavior. I sucked it up as best I could, though nowhere near the "5 positives for every 1 negative" extent (more the opposite).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got on the road and to Nate's school in pretty good time. I even gave Nate a haircut while he ate his breakfast. However, my cloudy head starting settling in around drop-off time. Will and I escorted Nate to his classroom, said our good-bye's and when I got back to the car I realized I hadn't signed Nate in. Back to the classroom. Signed in. Back to the car and what am I holding? Ugh. Nate's lunch box. Back to the classroom. The teacher gave me a reassuring smile. I'm sure behind that smile she was picturing me boozing it up before heading out that morning and was wondering how we made it to the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, after dropping off Nate, grabbing a few things at Target &amp;amp; selling some goods to the Children's Orchard, I took Will to his 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;dr&lt;/span&gt;.'s appointment in two days. He knows the whole routine, poor guy. He even sticks his ear out to have his temperature taken. So he needs the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;nebulizer&lt;/span&gt; treatment that makes him high as a kite/wide awake for another week. Needless to say, Will has not napped today. I even tried giving him a bath in the afternoon - no good. Rick came home and took him for a bike-trailer ride (a sure-fire knock out) - no good. He's "horsey riding" my feet right now, singing some sort of song. He's due for another treatment. Don't tell, but I think we'll skip this one and wait for the morning!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-4075959238523494954?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/4075959238523494954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=4075959238523494954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4075959238523494954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4075959238523494954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/head-in-clouds.html' title='Head in the Clouds'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-5810794167797416337</id><published>2008-03-03T14:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T14:55:08.175-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cough-Gag-Vomit</title><content type='html'>Just after writing my last post, I went out to water the flowers. Nate, who I assumed was still snuggled, enjoying quiet time on the couch, was actually sneaking up the stairs toward his sleeping-wheezing-just-a-week-over-Bronchitis brother's room. It didn't take long for Will's cries to come wafting down the stairs. I knew what the matter was right away because Will had been exhausted after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wonderkids&lt;/span&gt; and the park this morning, had even fallen asleep in the car (he only likes to sleep in his bed), and had only been down maybe an hour. And Nate had pulled the same sweet prank last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I raced upstairs, picked up Nate (who was trying to hide by Will's bed) by the shirt (oh I wanted to clobber him!! I had to use every ounce of energy to not follow through with the beating that was taking place in my mind - remember, smile, moms are so happy!), dropped him off in his room with an extremely stern warning to "NEVER EVER WAKE YOUR BROTHER AGAIN! YOU'VE MADE MOM SO ANGRY!!" (it's a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt;, my throat is still sore). Will was upset and wheezing, finding it hard to catch his breath, so I got out the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nebulizer&lt;/span&gt; (mist-machine-thing-that-you-put-medicine-in-to-make-your-kids-breath-better) and gave Will a breathing treatment, which helped his lungs open up. His coughing came on and (here's the really fun part!) he cough-gaged and threw up all over himself, my arms and legs, into the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;nebulizer&lt;/span&gt;, &amp;amp; soaked the little motorcycle he was carrying. I used about 20 wet wipes to get us clean enough to move without dripping more of that yummy acidic stuff over the rest of the room and actually walked downstairs to call for a doctor's appointment in vomit-soaked pants. So, are appointment's at 4. As Will said himself, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ut&lt;/span&gt;-oh!". . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-5810794167797416337?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/5810794167797416337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=5810794167797416337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5810794167797416337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/5810794167797416337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/cough-gag-vomit.html' title='Cough-Gag-Vomit'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-872360275781708969</id><published>2008-03-03T12:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T13:34:29.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not So Black &amp; White</title><content type='html'>Nate and I are eating peanut butter (crunchy because now that's I've grown up, I like crunchy) &amp;amp; blueberry jam sandwiches for lunch.  I'm also eating some left-over Thai Chicken Soup that I made last night.  My brother &amp;amp; sister-in-law joined us for dinner, so I thought I'd try something new.  I give it an "okay", but nothing special.  They're due to have their first child, a little girl, any day now.  My sister-in-law, Lydia, has been having fairly consistent contractions and I'm crossing my fingers I get a call saying they're in full-on labor soon.  All three of Nate &amp;amp; Will's aunts are pregnant.  We've got some wild times ahead!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We experienced a fairly typical morning.  Will said "Blast off!" after I counted to 10 to turn off the shower water (we've got to make our transitions as smooth as possible around here to help prevent unwanted tantrum-action).  Even Nate patted his back and said "Good boy, Will!".  Will's been getting to be quite the talker.  Mostly it's "I did it!" or "What's this? / What's that?", so the blast off was a particularly fun thing to hear.  After that, and a great phone call from Aunt Natalie, who is visiting Friday, we blasted off to our traditional Monday morning activity, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wonderkids&lt;/span&gt; program at the YMCA. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids are supposed to sit with their moms in a circle and sing, play instruments, wave banners, play with the parachute, etc.  Will's pretty good about hanging out with me  (who wouldn't want to be thrown in the air at the end of the Popcorn or Jack-in-the-Box songs?), but Nate's usually off running around, rocking on the teeter-totter-boat &amp;amp; pretty much discovering whatever he can as far from the circle as the square room allows.  I shout out "Nate!  Come play with us!" (interrupting Wheels on the Bus) and give him a pageant-quality smile while pointing to the empty 1/2 of my lap, encouraging him to join us in the you-won't-believe-how-exciting-this-is fun Will &amp;amp; I are experiencing.  Typically my gesturing is to no avail.  He's an independent kid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day I'm confronted by small (or are they big?) decisions.  They arise constantly and rarely come in the much-preferred black &amp;amp; white.  Do I reprimand him, take him to a time out &amp;amp; talk to him eye-to-eye, encourage him to be part of the group or do I let him discover on his own, allow for his independence and be thankful he's not frightened or intimidated and curled in my lap?  I have no idea what the correct answer is, so I half it.  Out of respect for the other mom's and 2-3 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; (most of whom are actually sitting the circle like good little children), I nudge him toward participation but don't force him into the activities.  I'm really just parenting by the moment, trying to find consistencies where I can, trying to keep my cool (which is difficult, I've always been impatient and love efficiency), trying to remember that the rough times are just for the moment and a happier time is always around the corner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everything seems to go wrong, babies hanging off my legs crying (&amp;amp; often sick), I'm tired from being up throughout the night, the house is a mess, etc. (and it feels this way a lot), happiness seems miles away.   It's easy to let the exhaustion take me, along with a big pile of sadness, a truckload of self-pity, and a heaping tablespoon of how did I ever get here and why would I chose to do this to myself?  When I'm in the heart of that dark, sad place, I feel like the wind will never come and blow that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;stinkball&lt;/span&gt; of feeling out of the way.  But it does always get better.  Before I know it (like yesterday morning), Will will run up and give Nate a big hug, and sure enough, things aren't so bad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;after all&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a mom is a huge job.  It never ends.  No holidays.  No vacation time.  On nights.  On days.  No quitting.  No raises.  Tremendous responsibility.  It can be a bit daunting.  And, honestly, at this point, I am fighting daily to keep my optimistic, happy side from getting lost in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;poopy&lt;/span&gt; diapers.  People often comment about how well I function and how positive I am for having a one and two year old.  It doesn't come naturally or easily and a lot of the time I'm just smiling so my insides can catch up with my outsides.  I'm not afraid to share the hardships, because they're part of the job.  I'm also not afraid to share the joys, because they are what make this crazy ride worth the high price of the ticket.  Keep smiling, my little boys, because your mom needs encouragement, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-872360275781708969?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/872360275781708969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=872360275781708969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/872360275781708969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/872360275781708969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/not-so-black-white.html' title='Not So Black &amp; White'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-6324756059050421784</id><published>2008-03-02T13:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T14:24:38.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gadgets, a Clean House &amp; Other Vices</title><content type='html'>I'm all for gadgets. I've got the Gizmo can opener (thanks, Natalie!). It makes living off canned goods sound exciting. Sadly, I read most canned goods are high in sodium, so I feel guilty when I feed them to the kids. Anyhow, the Gizmo's not the only cool gadget out there. My new fave is the steam mop. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mine is &lt;/span&gt;by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bissel&lt;/span&gt;, and thanks to them, I've been getting more excited than I should be about mopping. No cleaning solution necessary, just good old &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;agua&lt;/span&gt;. (Side note: I'm a bit distracted by Nate shoving Chuck E. Cheese tokens in my pockets. "More coins in pocket Mommy? More coins in pocket Mommy? More coins in pocket Mommy?" - you get the idea)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is probably the most devoted cleaner of the home in the world. When I picture her in my mind, she's usually cleaning the kitchen. When we were young, and still to this day, she cannot sit to watch a show unless she can be folding clothes, ironing, cleaning the kitchen &amp;amp; watching from a distance or polishing the glass coffee table (a busy-bee trait I carry, as well). I think her dedication to keeping a clean home is part of the reason I don't feel completely relaxed or "happy" without my house being clean and fairly orderly. It could be a control issue for me, or most likely, a way for me to feel like there's some order in my chaotic life. Maybe my mom felt she needed some order, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ordered my mom a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Roomba&lt;/span&gt;. The robot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;vacuum&lt;/span&gt; designed in Heaven. I thought it'd be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;chinsy&lt;/span&gt; and suck with minor vigor. However, it's a lovely little machine &amp;amp; worth the cost. Rick would roll his eyes (Mr. Old-fashioned-who-needs-a-gadget-when-you-have-a-broom) if I brought it up, but I really want to get one for our downstairs. The entire 1st floor of our home is tile. With two dogs &amp;amp; two kids, I end up sweeping or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;vacuuming&lt;/span&gt; the floor at least once a day. I might see if I can find one on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;craigslist&lt;/span&gt;. Rick (Mr. If-you-could-ask-for-anything-why-would-you-want-a-household-item) thinks our two older &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;vacuums&lt;/span&gt; are doing a dandy job, and they are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;okay, b&lt;/span&gt;ut have you seen the Dyson &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;vacuums&lt;/span&gt;? I think about them all the time. Can you tell I'm a stay-at-home-mom &amp;amp; like a clean house? I was reading reviews and one lady said hers sucked so hard it lifted the carpet as she went. In my mind, I'm thinking "awesome!" and I'm totally picturing it now. Nice. Really nice. I figure I could have worse vices than stressing over the cleanliness of my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other vice is the Children's Orchard &amp;amp; bargains in general. I have a poor memory except for prices of items I got great deals on and horse &amp;amp; dog stuff. Don't ask me what the last movie I saw was or how the last book I read ended, because I couldn't tell you a week later. Ask me about the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Huggies&lt;/span&gt; baby wash on clearance for $1.09 from $4.47 that I got for $.09 because I had a $1 off &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Huggies&lt;/span&gt; wash coupon, and I'll tell you the details in 10 years. I know it's hard to believe, but that was a real deal!! And The Children's Orchard is my favorite store. They buy children's clothes, toys, gear, books, bedding, etc. and resell it. It's fun to find great deals and the bonus is, you sell your stuff back when you're done. I clipped a "Get an extra 40% on your stuff when you sell it to us coupon" and have an appointment for March 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. You've never seen a lady try to dig up stuff to sell so fast!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-6324756059050421784?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/6324756059050421784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=6324756059050421784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6324756059050421784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/6324756059050421784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/gadgets-clean-house-other-vices.html' title='Gadgets, a Clean House &amp; Other Vices'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-8048180134763258945</id><published>2008-03-01T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T08:25:42.685-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disney Adventure</title><content type='html'>Nate and I really enjoyed our Disney adventure yesterday.  We're incredibly fortunate to live where we do.  The area is full of family-filled fun, parks, classes &amp;amp; activities for kids &amp;amp; moms and great weather year-round, enabling full-fledged participation in whatever suits your fancy.  Quite possibly the best part for the kids is our accessibility to Disneyland.  It's about 1/2 an hour from our door to the park and kids 2 and under are free.  I bought an Annual Pass which cost me around $150 (with parking included) for the year.  Saturdays are exempt, as are most of the months of July &amp;amp; August or June &amp;amp; July?  I forgot, but it's a busy, hot time so not desirable if you live nearby any-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;.  The crowd yesterday was medium-sized and it was about 70 degrees or so, nothing to complain about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to let Nate run the show (I left Will at home with our babysitter because we went for the afternoon during Will's nap time - have I mentioned Nate rarely naps these days?  That's talk for another day. . .).  Nate's a fairly experienced Disney-goer, so he knows most of the rides and has a good idea of what is where.  His picks were in this order: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Astroblasters&lt;/span&gt; (Buzz &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Lightyear&lt;/span&gt; rides where you get to shoot at targets as you go &amp;amp; probably my favorite, too), Finding &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Nemo&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Autotopia&lt;/span&gt; (driving cars), the train (which we took to New Orleans Square), the Haunted House, the boat ride to Pirates Lair (I think it's called or Tom Sawyer's Island - we lucked out and Jack Sparrow was riding to the island on our raft, too!), the petting zoo &amp;amp; then a stop for a snack... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ut&lt;/span&gt;-oh!  It was the snack stop where our magical journey ended and the tantrum attacked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to treat myself to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;grande&lt;/span&gt; iced decaf sugar-free vanilla latte and a chocolate croissant every time we go (I deserve it!).  We always stop at the same little spot on Main Street - Blue Ribbon Bakery (10% off food in the park with our annual pass... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;cha&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ching&lt;/span&gt;).  Because Nate was being such a big boy and making such important choices throughout the day, I let him chose a special treat for himself.  And, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;ahh&lt;/span&gt;, he chose the lovely Mickey Mouse sugar cookie (a hard one to miss).  We got our treats and I did the unspeakable.  I broke an ear off the large cookie so Nate could easily carry it while riding on my shoulders to the car (no strollers here!).  I should have been using my ever-developing "2-yr-old brain" and realized how devastated he would be when his cookie no longer looked like the perfect Mickey face it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, Nate screamed, collapsed, rubber-boned it at our Blue Ribbon Bakery (thankfully a parade was marching away down Main Street to help mask the fall-out).  After putting on my most "I'm a calm mom, able to deal with any circumstance, and I know just what to do in the most loving of ways" face, I did my best to calm the crazed little bugger, at least enough to get us out of the park in one piece.  Though looking "Mom of the Year" externally, inside I was tired and stressed.  Eventually, my patience wore thin &amp;amp; I threw a little fit myself.  I broke the entire cookie into bite-sized pieces so you could no longer tell if it had been Mickey or a mongoose, picked him up and marched to a secluded curb where he could burn off some steam (me, too) and we could then get to the car and home as hurriedly as we had headed off to the park that morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you couldn't have guessed, Nate was sound asleep before we even got to the freeway, slept until nearly 7pm (2 1/2 hours), was in bed by 8:30 and came plodding down the stairs at nearly 8:00 this morning.  Go Nate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of those "special moments that help me survive motherhood" happened not long after we got home last night.  Rick and Will had been out on a bike ride when we returned home and I was at the stove making dinner when they came in the door.  Will smiled, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;squealed&lt;/span&gt;, ran to give me a great-big hug on my leg, and gave my knee lots of kisses by rubbing his slobbery face all over it.  He was so happy to see me.  It was enough to make my attitude a good one for the rest of the evening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-8048180134763258945?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/8048180134763258945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=8048180134763258945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/8048180134763258945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/8048180134763258945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/disney-adventure.html' title='Disney Adventure'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-682802231069583537</id><published>2008-03-01T07:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T07:38:45.085-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucky Charms and Bed Talk</title><content type='html'>This morning I'm eating my Lucky Charms at a leisurely 7am.  Will decided to let me off easy by waking up a few times in the 12 - 1am hour, instead of rising at 5:30 this morning.  He recently moved into a "big boy" bed.  We followed through with the conversion of our convertible crib (from crib to toddler bed to it now making up the head &amp;amp; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;foot board&lt;/span&gt; of a full-sized bed).  Many kids Nate's age, 2 1/2, are still in their cribs.  (Side note:  Will just came over with a brick of a wet diaper so I had to take a time out to change him &amp;amp; find some clothes for him to start the day in.  It's so strange that he, and many children, don't seem to understand it's the weekend, in which moms should be allowed to have coffee, Lucky Charms and putz around on the computer a bit before the kids need diaper changes, juice-filled-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sippys&lt;/span&gt; and breakfast...  Thankfully, and as usual, I had a healthy pile of clean clothes on the dryer so Will was dressed in no time!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the "big boy bed". . .  Nate didn't have the luxury of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cribbin&lt;/span&gt;' it away because he was only 12 1/2 months old when Will was born.  Because I kept Will in (and I highly recommend these things) a, was it 3-in-1, 5-in-1 or 20-in-1? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bassinet&lt;/span&gt; beside my bed for a few months, Nate was probably somewhere around 16 months when he moved into his queen bed.  I wasn't sure how it would go, but I wasn't interested in buying another crib, in fact, we didn't even buy side rails.  We went for it, and, beside quite a bit of getting up &amp;amp; trying to come see us and/or reading his books when he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;should have&lt;/span&gt; been sleeping, it was wonderful!  He didn't fall out and he slept well at night.  The best part was the free range of such a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;snugly&lt;/span&gt;, bouncy, expansive space.  We could wrestle &amp;amp; read together, and Nate was able to spend time in his bed when he wanted to.  I believe it gave a real boost to his "reading" and is still a place he can go to relax and have any additional quiet time he needs.  Though, I'm not afraid to admit, I do nearly lose it when he comes out during time-outs sometimes still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's why I chose to move Will into his big boy bed, too.  As far as I know, he's never flopped off (no rails) and just the pride in his eyes when I set it up was worth it to me.  He's "reading" more books now and spends time with his brother playing on his bed at least a couple times a day.  And as I was with Nate in the beginning, I nearly lose it when he repeatedly comes out at naps &amp;amp; at night.  But bumps come with every transition, and I know it will fade with time, as it has with Nate, who rarely comes out after going down at night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-682802231069583537?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/682802231069583537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=682802231069583537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/682802231069583537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/682802231069583537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/03/lucky-charms-and-bed-talk.html' title='Lucky Charms and Bed Talk'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-4236235391231136140</id><published>2008-02-29T06:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T06:48:41.437-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As the morning goes...</title><content type='html'>Will was in my room ready to play at 5:30 again this morning.  I tried to get him to fall asleep in my bed by semi-pinning him down, resulting in a couple minutes fussing/crying (Will does not like to hold still), then an eventual poop-out with a minute of two of quiet.  My hope of sneaking downstairs childless to catch up on my recorded American Idol and Lost episodes was soon disrupted when he started jabbering away and popped up, ready to go once more.  A big kick in my face left me with a little bloody nose, watering eyes &amp;amp; the motivation I needed to rise &amp;amp; shine for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a half hour later, Nate &amp;amp; Daisy (Nate's occasional bed-buddy-Doberman-dog-pal) came strolling down the stairs, blankies (3) in tow.  The big bi-polar question of the morning?  Happy or Mad?  Mad.  Dang.  The featured breakfast this morning was English Muffins con Blueberry fruit spread.  So good, I skipped my traditional Lucky Charms and went for a muffin myself.  Nate decided to try to chuck his on the floor (saved by a quick grab from his mom) and was sent back up to his room to start the day over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here we are.  Nate has readjusted his attitude &amp;amp; has brought a book down and we're snuggling, so life is good again (for the moment).  Maybe we will be going to Disneyland after all today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-4236235391231136140?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/4236235391231136140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=4236235391231136140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4236235391231136140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/4236235391231136140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/02/as-morning-goes.html' title='As the morning goes...'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-2329723558873724421</id><published>2008-02-28T16:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T16:34:17.991-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a typical walk...</title><content type='html'>Nate's preschool "Rainbow Connection" monthly newsletter came out today.  They included an article that recently appeared something called Exchange Every Day.  The article details how play has changed in children, and basically, because they don't romp unsupervised outside, etc., kids are losing their "self-regulation" and all kinds of stuff that sounds important and keeps them from doing drugs, yada, yada.  So, because I always want to be a good mom &amp;amp; believe I am sometimes, I let the boys loose out back.  AKA I got some much-desired reading time in the sun while the kids did whatever the heck they wanted without me guiding them &amp;amp;/or breething down the back of their necks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It went well, actually.  They even listened to my warning of "no touching the poop" which can be a tough one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to step it up a notch.  Out to the front of the house we went, barefoot &amp;amp; ready for a walk.  What better way to let off some steam, soak up some rays, &amp;amp; possibly meet new neighbors in the process. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate took off running.  Not a big deal on our quiet cul-de-sac.  Will &amp;amp; I just lagged behind holding hands &amp;amp; a rock (Will brought one from our yard).  I had even remembered to promise Nate a special treat if he practiced good listening and watched for cars backing out of driveways.  Side note:  I recently read bribing 2 year olds works great and won't mess them up as long as you offer the reward before an activity or whatever and not at the time of a breakdown, as in "shut up &amp;amp; I'll give you a candy bar!".  So I'm trying it on occasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All went well until it was time to turn around.  I got Nate to stop 50 yards ahead of us but he wouldn't come back so we could cross the street (an incentive) and head back home on the other side of the street.  I mustered up what little patience and positivity I could find and came up with encouraging remarks to get him back to me, i.e. "you can hold Will's hand to help him cross", "if you're a really good listener, we can do this all the time".  I wished I had a go-go-gadget arm to grab him by the neck and pull him back to us.  Eventually, as Will &amp;amp; I turned to go, he caught up with us, we held hands and got across the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a minute after crossing the street, Will stopped to throw rocks in some bushes.  Eventually I had to tell Nate to wait and run back to get Will who was quite set on his task.  As I turned back to meet up with Nate, the little bugger ran across the road.  Not a big deal in the "normal" world, but in a mom's world, it was a miracle he wasn't struck and drug to Nevada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I ran up to Nate (Will bouncing on my hip) and assisted him in a brisk walk straight home with a handful of hoodie in my fist.  "No more walks for one week!" - like he knows what a week is.  I just felt saying something and at least no cuss words were involved.  When I stand back and think why would something like this be a big enough deal for me to write about, I realize it wouldn't be such a big deal if these things didn't happen to me numerous times throughout the day.  I'm like a Border Collie doing my best to maintain a flock of rabid sheep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-2329723558873724421?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/2329723558873724421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=2329723558873724421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/2329723558873724421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/2329723558873724421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/02/just-typical-walk.html' title='Just a typical walk...'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689562680589207241.post-1036207461508393717</id><published>2008-02-28T06:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T07:04:10.604-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From the Crazy Mom of a One &amp; Two Year Old...</title><content type='html'>Because at some point every day I think, "I can't believe this is my life," (good or bad) and because sharing our stories may make for interesting reading, commiseration for other families surviving with small children, and also as something for us to look back upon, to reflect, laugh, roll-our-eyes-at, or to thank goodness "that" phase has passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here it starts today at a quarter-to-seven in the morning.  Rick left the house this morning a little after 4.  Usually I've been up a time or two in the night with one of the boys or both, and often not long before Rick's alarm's gone off at 4am, so I'm able to converse with him to some extent, or at the least, to blow him a couple kisses for support from our cozy bed.  I know his early hours are not something I can help Rick with, but I do feel guilty for "sleeping in" to 5:30 or 6am no matter how many times I've been up in the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will was bright &amp;amp; shiny this morning at 5:30am.  He fell asleep in the bike trailer last night while we were out for a family ride.  We had a long "ride" back, as my tire had gone flat at nearly our furthest point and we had no pump.  I walked and pushed my bike as my husband, who looks great on his bike by the way, slowly pedaled next to me, pulling the boys.  We thought it a great opportunity to put Will to bed a couple hours early (a couple friends suggested an early bedtime might bring a later wake time, which worked for both their little guys).  And as crazy as it sounds, 5:30's better than Will's 4:30's and back-to-sleeps he's been dealing out lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're waiting for Nate to rise and shine so we can group shower (not as exciting as it sounds) and get the big kid (2) to early preschool.  He goes Tuesday &amp;amp; Thursday mornings for fun, socialization and for me, a break.  One kid's no sweat when you've got two and I can't imagine how easy it'd be for a mom with multiple other children.  Nate's been battling a fever the last couple days.  Particularly Tuesday, when it first showed up.  He fell asleep in his teacher's lap at school.  He was soundly sleeping, pink cheeks and sweaty hair, curled up on a cot in his classroom with classmates screaming and racing, playing all around him when I picked him up.  His fever got up to atleast 103.5 then broke late that night, dropping to 97.4 in an hour or two.  He's been sleeping a long time and I'm hoping he'll be all smiles when he wakes (that rarely happens... I used to think of myself as an optimist and I'm just trying to bring it back).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to get moving.  Hannah's moaning and whining at the back door.  My signal to get her breakfast.  Will's been chucking the t-ball at the dogs, so I'm sure they're ready to escape the little bugger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7689562680589207241-1036207461508393717?l=thehossfamily.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/feeds/1036207461508393717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7689562680589207241&amp;postID=1036207461508393717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1036207461508393717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7689562680589207241/posts/default/1036207461508393717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thehossfamily.blogspot.com/2008/02/from-crazy-mom-of-one-two-year-old.html' title='From the Crazy Mom of a One &amp; Two Year Old...'/><author><name>bhoss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03165146642215732286</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_RSczXLygeC4/R8dTuBCqj3I/AAAAAAAAAAM/E_qZ_lbIeqc/S220/100_6901.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
