Category Archives: Family/Parenting

Because there is more than just Stella.

Another weekend at the Walston Labor Camp

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This weekend we removed and disposed of 3,380 pounds of green waste.

To clarify: the “we” being Steve, myself and the latest round of suckers visitors, Steve’s parents. Consider yourself warned: if you come to our house with the intention of “helping” you will be automatically issued a project, a Walstonling and your very own bottle of ibuprofen. Come to think of it, our house has become much like that of the Hotel California: You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

You see, in our day to day lives we are deprived of any sort of productive activity that doesn’t involve the counseling or redirection of two emotionally volatile children. So you can understand how it is that we lose our ability to think rationally when it comes to getting to focus on actual task oriented activities. Activities that can be accomplished without having to stop every 5 minutes to keep someone from, say, drawing on an inappropriate person or thing with a Sharpie pen, or hauling the contents of the sand table into the kitchen.

The name of the game this weekend was berry abatement. As in, gone. Period.

We started with this:

house

house

And ended up with this:

house

house

As a matter of course, we all also ended up looking like this – basically, like we have been in a scratch fight with a badger:

steve

Not only were our guests kind enough to deal with the daily toil of yardwork, but they were also here to experience the magic and wonderment that is time-change-sleep-transition. I can say with some certainty that the idiot who came up with time changes DID NOT HAVE CHILDREN. This household already gets up at dark-thirty. Now, thanks to the lame time change, we get up an hour BEFORE dark-thirty. So not only did Bill and Judy get to give up a perfectly good weekend wrenching their backs and pulling their muscles and being ordered around by Porter the Angry Dictator, but they got to have the equivalent of the WWE in their bed by 5:00 a.m.

As I have been reflecting on all the work-vacations people have been providing lately, I think I have realized that we are missing the bigger picture here. One of my former professors from school started a B&B where people come to get the “farm experience”. As if. I remember thinking it was the most ridiculous idea in the world. What crack-smoking maniac would pay to go on vacation and actually pay to work? Oh. Well. I think I have just answered my own question.

Personal Ad

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Single White Toddler Male seeking companion who doesn’t need much sleep. Must enjoy being ordered around, and be physically capable of carrying 25-27 pounds for extended periods of time. Must be tolerant of miscellaneous dependency issues such as (but not limited to), security blanket, thumb-sucking, and a mild-to-moderate dry cereal and granola bar addiction. Although I am both height challenged and lacking in fine motor skills I refuse to employ the use of any sort of high chair, booster seat or tippy cup. Other quirky habits include refusing to sit down in the bathtub, eating things I find on the ground, playing in toilets and throwing up without warning (although I do this much less these days). I am totally into horses, although I refuse to actually touch one – however, I will require that you haul me out to the fence numerous times throughout the day and stand there while I look at them. I have been told that I am a really good dancer, and I am able to run really really fast – usually when no one is looking, and usually towards places I have no business being. I am wicked cute, but do have some anger issues. And watch out, because I have 16 teeth and I am not afraid to use them. Oh, and I can identify all the major parts on my body, just be careful when you ask me to identify your eye, because I will probably jab my finger in it. There will probably be some language barriers, but I do know all the animal sounds and can easily identify my Mama and Dada. For everything else, I will just point and yell. And when that doesn’t work, I will use my chubby little fingers to grab your hand and drag you where I need you to go.

If this sounds like something you would be interested in, look no further because I’m your man.

porter

The Maker of Mayhem

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At his 15-month check-up, we found that the fluid behind Porter’s ear drums still hasn’t cleared out. This, coupled with the fact that he is still yelling at us in some unintelligible Eastern European dialect meant we were directed by the pediatrician to take him to an audiologist and ear-nose-throat specialist. After a string of hearing tests and some poking and prodding, it was determined that he would need tubes. As the ear-nose-throat doc so scientifically put it: “Once that fluid sits in the ears for a while, it turns into Jell-O; we call it glue ear, because once it’s there, there ain’t no getting rid of it without forcibly removing it.” I could tell from his explanation of the procedure that he has done it no less than a gazillion times. I don’t know if it is because every child in Humboldt County has “glue ear” or if it is because we found the most popular doctor in the area, but we couldn’t even get in for the procedure for 4 weeks.

Both the audiologist and the ENT indicated that although both ears have fluid, the left one is definitely the worst, and where he is experiencing the most hearing loss. Given this knowledge, we are now known to talk loudly and slowly as though he were 80, and use insanely crude and ridiculous sign language. We are also getting used to saying catchy things to each other like, “Make sure you are talking into his good ear.” Our sensitive and nurturing tendencies shining through, as always.

We are confident this will be a fairly routine procedure, and are looking forward to having his hearing back at full speed so that he may actually begin using speech and language and quit barking at us like an angry, pint-sized dictator. Who can’t speak English. And has no patience. And throws things.

What he lacks in speech and hearing, he is making up for in physical activity and his iron-willed determination to get his way. Do not leave this child unattended. Ever, ever under any circumstances. Ever. I realized – a little bit too late – that I needed to be photographing all of the various and sundry predicaments he gets himself into these days. Missed, were the photos of him disassembling, climbing into and frolicking in the ashes of the free-standing fire pit. Or the photos of him eating handfuls of catfood. Or the photos of him “typing” on the computer (read: banging fists wildly against the keyboard).

As for that last item, it was accomplished because of his new favorite pass-time – climbing onto table-tops. He is wicked fast, and once up to his desired elevation, begins dancing around in sheer delight over his accomplishment.

porter

porter

There are days where I am almost certain his head is going to explode because of his rage feuled tantrums over fairly benign issues. On this particular day, I didn’t have the strength to get into another battle of wills with him over whether or not he could abscond with an entire package of toilet paper. I managed to negotiate him down to a single roll. Of which, he made quick work of shredding:

porter

porter

And if you have the audacity to deprive of utensils at mealtime, you may as well just call CPS right now, because you are obviously THE WORST PARENT EVER:

porter

And this day? This day, all he would eat was cup after cup of frozen berries. I think I managed to cut him off somewhere around his 4th serving. (I can only assume it had something to do with the 4 eye teeth he is getting simultaneously!)

porter

And, all I can say is that when he asks for your sunglasses, you had better damn well give him your sunglasses. (Also know as: the number one reason why I no longer own sunglasses whose replacement cost is over $20 per pair.)

porter

porter

porter

But that’s okay. Because around these parts, cute? Yeah, it goes a long way.

porter

porter and natalie

Speaking Correctly

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A couple of years back, Celene & Thad gave Stella this book. It has, apparently, been around since the olden days, and – much as the title suggests – goes to great pains to teach one how to not speak like they was raised in that there trailer.

This book’s target audience is for the 9-12 crowd, and so you can imagine it’s effectiveness on a three year old. Nevermind that the main goal with a three-year-old is to not have them yell things at you. So naturally we figured the next logical step is to teach her the proper use of WELL and GOOD.

The way the book works is that all the parts of speech and undesirable uses of tense and pronunciation are presented as characters. More specifically, they are little stick drawings with creepy faces and long, spider-like arms. They are shady characters who do things like always exclude G from their fun summertime activities (goin, playin, runnin, fishin). Poor little G. The kid with the inhaler left at the swim dock while everyone else gets to go canoin’.

But the reason for this story has not to do with the oft neglected G, or with LY (LY wears a pink dress and “loves action!” I’ll let you interpret the subversive text on that one.), or even that beer-swilling, monster-truck-driving bad-boy GOT (i.e., I ain’t GOT no teefs) – no, this story has to do with MAY. Good old MAY. Of all the forgotten letters, mangled suffixes and superlative prefixes in this book, the one character that Stella has decided to attempt to properly work into her daily conversation is MAY. But as one can quickly guess, Stella’s interpretation of where exactly MAY lives in those sentences has never been fully comprehended – even though we have read this book no less than 50 times.

I find this whole CAN vs. MAY character fairly pretentious and snotty anyway. Nothing is more annoying than asking someone if you can do something and they respond with a haughty, “I don’t know, CAN you?” As far as I am concerned CAN and MAY can go hang out with the improper conjugation of lay. I’ve never liked him either.

So now, when Stella really, really wants something. And wants to impress you with her astute ability in asking for it in a grammatically correct way, you will hear this pleading statement:

“Mommy, Mommy, CAN I please MAY? Please CAN I MAY?”

My baby’s done college bound.