Just a few laughs at the expense of my three year old and his ever expanding vocabulary and imagination...
Koda: mommy! I threw my po-wice car behind the freezer
me: aw, too bad.
Koda: mommy get it
me: oh no, the freezer is too heavy (lying through my teeth)
Koda: oooohhhhh, too heavy. Daddy get it later
me: yeah maybe
Koda: daddy bigger than mommy
me: I sure hope so
Koda: no, not daddy. A dinosaur is going to move the freezer to get my po-wice car. Dinosaur bigger than daddy.
me: yes Koda, yes a dinosaur would sure be bigger.
---------------------
5:15am
Koda (wide awake!!): mommy sleepy?
me: yes Koda, mommy very sleepy
Koda: mommy need coffee?
me: yes Koda, a whole lot of coffee
*Koda slimbs on my lap and wispers in my ear in the sweetest voice*
Koda: mommy, I need hot chocolate
me: not at 5 in the morning mister.
----------------------
Bedtime-
me: Koda, say good night to daddy
Koda (screaming): buh-bye daddy, good night, see you tomorrow. See you tomorrow at the star store (Walmart). Koda get a car at the star store.
***Um 1. no, we aren't going to the store and 2. you aren't getting a car. nice try Koda Jude.***
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Have you seen my half naked child?
I owe Christmas posts. I've been on an extended mental vacation. I'll get there soon.
First though, a Koda tale.
Tuesday evening at 8pm, Tristen is crying. Again. He is having a terribly rough night. Koda and Tristen share a room, and I know Koda will be up all night. For relief, I decide to put him on the couch. He is excited, grabs some tonka trucks to cuddle with (you know, because cold metal is so cuddly to three year olds), and dozes off almost immidiately. I swear, he was so happy I think there was a smile on his face.
Travis and I are exhausted. RA training has begun for me, which means long days and even longer nights. Travis has the kids all day, in ridiculous Maine weather that would cause anyone to climb the walls, all while trying to get ready for a new semester. Travis asks if he needs to set the alarm. Nah, Koda is the perfect alarm. A very loud "momma, get up now! Momma I wet. Momma I want show. Momma I hungry. Momma! Momma! Momma!" greets me daily at about 6:30-7:00 am. E-v-e-r-y-d-a-y. *Yawn.
I sleep. Heavily. Tristen finally settled, and for once didn't wake up in the night. I awoke feeling like something wasn't right. For one, it wasn't dark. If you now Maine in the winter, you know you wake up to dark, drive to work in dark, drive home in dark. It's just, well, dark. I bolt up in bed and see it is 9:30am. Crap, I'm late for work.
I jump out of bed and hear a racket in the kids room. Noticing that Koda was no longer on the couch, I assume he has gone back to his room to wake up Tristen- being the wonderful big brother trouble maker he is. I think to myself that I have just enough time to go to the bathroom before they hear me. As I placed my hand on the door I got the mom feeling. The gut-screaming- something isn't right - moment. I throw open the bedroom door to Tristen throwing Mickey Mouse at me saying "hi, hi, hi, dada (he gets a little confused), hi, hi hi". No Koda.
Getting a little panicked, I check the bathroom. Pitchblack, no sign of him. I recheck the bedrooms, and the living room. Nothing. Stinker MUST have gotten into my office. I climb over the babygate that he would have scaled, and open my office door. There was evidence he had been there as papers were thrown all over the desk and markers sat with caps off, long since dried. My latest pay stub was even glued to my deskfront. No Koda. I can't breathe.
I run into the apartment and scream for Travis who begins to run out of the apartment. I yell at him to put on a shirt (big hairy men in only underwear can scare away the natives and all), as I run barefoot out the door. Our door exits in to the college community center. Our nice, yet not bright custodian was cursing at some wax machine. I run by , still in my ragged Tshirt, sweatpants, bed head hair, yelling have you seen my three year old? Nope.
I see the front door. No way. No way he would go outside. He knows better. I KNOW he knows better. We've talked about this. I push open the door just as...
the public safety cruiser pulls up out front with Koda sitting with a woman in the passenger seat. I'm filled with panic, shock, (I'll admit it...embarassment...). the police officer comes in and informs myself and Travis who just ran around the corner now somewhat clothed that Koda had been found in a parking lot 5 minutes from our home. He was just walking away....in a sweatshirt, soggy diaper, and socks. That's all. He chose to take his pants off prior to departure.
The police officer asked in his slightly condescending -what kind of parents are you- tone, "How'd he get outside?". I invite him in to see the fortress I thought we'd created. The four, yes four, gates surrounding our living room. The chain locks (which obviously I forgot to engage in my office). I can barely talk. I can just feel him looking at me, I'm just happy to have my boy clinging to me. The officer is convinced he has been out for a long time. I actually don't think so, but I'm not going to push my luck with the guy. He tells us we have a Hoodini on our hands and leaves.
As the door closes Koda looks up and grins, "watch show". Oh no, mister, we have some talking to do.
He told us he was walking to the playground. He actually made it half way. And by our estimation, was outside for 5-10 minutes. That isn't good, but holy hell, it could have been so much worse.
I spent the day in a daze. I called my boss since I felt public safety would surely tell her. Fortunately, she got facilities to come install heavy duty deadbolts at the top of the door frame. They were installed by the afternoon. We initially heard grumblings of it being against fire code, but calls were made and someone, somewhere, gave the rubber stamp approval.
I sat at my keyboard a few hours later and found myself still shaking. Still shaking while one room over I heard Koda giggling, and still asking for his show. And Travis still telling him that we do not go outside without mommy or daddy.
At ten that night, long after Koda had gone to sleep (in his room...from now on, always in his room which has one more babygate he'd have to scale. One extra gate of protection), I checked on the baby. Knawing on his stuffed Mickey's nose like always, sighing contently, I walk to Koda's bedside. He's dressed in the warmest PJs I could find. And heavy socks. I watch him sleep, clinging again to his 70's era tonka trucks. I can't help pile blankets on him, as though somehow keeping him warm now makes up for however cold he felt outside. I ended up sobbing for all that could have been.
I must have checked the doors twenty times last night. Travis got up several times to check himself. I heard him pull the gates to be sure they were secure. I heard him try to open the doors, making sure just one more time that Koda wouldn't leave again. At 2am a drifted in and out of the most restless sleep I have ever had. At 7am I hear what was music to my ears. "Momma, I wet. Momma, I want show. Now. Momma! Momma!..........."
Someday, it will all be funny. Maybe even someday soon. For now, I am thankful for guardian angels and for things that never were. Mommies, don't underestimate your little ones. Get a lock that is well out of their reach well before you ever need it.
First though, a Koda tale.
Tuesday evening at 8pm, Tristen is crying. Again. He is having a terribly rough night. Koda and Tristen share a room, and I know Koda will be up all night. For relief, I decide to put him on the couch. He is excited, grabs some tonka trucks to cuddle with (you know, because cold metal is so cuddly to three year olds), and dozes off almost immidiately. I swear, he was so happy I think there was a smile on his face.
Travis and I are exhausted. RA training has begun for me, which means long days and even longer nights. Travis has the kids all day, in ridiculous Maine weather that would cause anyone to climb the walls, all while trying to get ready for a new semester. Travis asks if he needs to set the alarm. Nah, Koda is the perfect alarm. A very loud "momma, get up now! Momma I wet. Momma I want show. Momma I hungry. Momma! Momma! Momma!" greets me daily at about 6:30-7:00 am. E-v-e-r-y-d-a-y. *Yawn.
I sleep. Heavily. Tristen finally settled, and for once didn't wake up in the night. I awoke feeling like something wasn't right. For one, it wasn't dark. If you now Maine in the winter, you know you wake up to dark, drive to work in dark, drive home in dark. It's just, well, dark. I bolt up in bed and see it is 9:30am. Crap, I'm late for work.
I jump out of bed and hear a racket in the kids room. Noticing that Koda was no longer on the couch, I assume he has gone back to his room to wake up Tristen- being the wonderful big brother trouble maker he is. I think to myself that I have just enough time to go to the bathroom before they hear me. As I placed my hand on the door I got the mom feeling. The gut-screaming- something isn't right - moment. I throw open the bedroom door to Tristen throwing Mickey Mouse at me saying "hi, hi, hi, dada (he gets a little confused), hi, hi hi". No Koda.
Getting a little panicked, I check the bathroom. Pitchblack, no sign of him. I recheck the bedrooms, and the living room. Nothing. Stinker MUST have gotten into my office. I climb over the babygate that he would have scaled, and open my office door. There was evidence he had been there as papers were thrown all over the desk and markers sat with caps off, long since dried. My latest pay stub was even glued to my deskfront. No Koda. I can't breathe.
I run into the apartment and scream for Travis who begins to run out of the apartment. I yell at him to put on a shirt (big hairy men in only underwear can scare away the natives and all), as I run barefoot out the door. Our door exits in to the college community center. Our nice, yet not bright custodian was cursing at some wax machine. I run by , still in my ragged Tshirt, sweatpants, bed head hair, yelling have you seen my three year old? Nope.
I see the front door. No way. No way he would go outside. He knows better. I KNOW he knows better. We've talked about this. I push open the door just as...
the public safety cruiser pulls up out front with Koda sitting with a woman in the passenger seat. I'm filled with panic, shock, (I'll admit it...embarassment...). the police officer comes in and informs myself and Travis who just ran around the corner now somewhat clothed that Koda had been found in a parking lot 5 minutes from our home. He was just walking away....in a sweatshirt, soggy diaper, and socks. That's all. He chose to take his pants off prior to departure.
The police officer asked in his slightly condescending -what kind of parents are you- tone, "How'd he get outside?". I invite him in to see the fortress I thought we'd created. The four, yes four, gates surrounding our living room. The chain locks (which obviously I forgot to engage in my office). I can barely talk. I can just feel him looking at me, I'm just happy to have my boy clinging to me. The officer is convinced he has been out for a long time. I actually don't think so, but I'm not going to push my luck with the guy. He tells us we have a Hoodini on our hands and leaves.
As the door closes Koda looks up and grins, "watch show". Oh no, mister, we have some talking to do.
He told us he was walking to the playground. He actually made it half way. And by our estimation, was outside for 5-10 minutes. That isn't good, but holy hell, it could have been so much worse.
I spent the day in a daze. I called my boss since I felt public safety would surely tell her. Fortunately, she got facilities to come install heavy duty deadbolts at the top of the door frame. They were installed by the afternoon. We initially heard grumblings of it being against fire code, but calls were made and someone, somewhere, gave the rubber stamp approval.
I sat at my keyboard a few hours later and found myself still shaking. Still shaking while one room over I heard Koda giggling, and still asking for his show. And Travis still telling him that we do not go outside without mommy or daddy.
At ten that night, long after Koda had gone to sleep (in his room...from now on, always in his room which has one more babygate he'd have to scale. One extra gate of protection), I checked on the baby. Knawing on his stuffed Mickey's nose like always, sighing contently, I walk to Koda's bedside. He's dressed in the warmest PJs I could find. And heavy socks. I watch him sleep, clinging again to his 70's era tonka trucks. I can't help pile blankets on him, as though somehow keeping him warm now makes up for however cold he felt outside. I ended up sobbing for all that could have been.
I must have checked the doors twenty times last night. Travis got up several times to check himself. I heard him pull the gates to be sure they were secure. I heard him try to open the doors, making sure just one more time that Koda wouldn't leave again. At 2am a drifted in and out of the most restless sleep I have ever had. At 7am I hear what was music to my ears. "Momma, I wet. Momma, I want show. Now. Momma! Momma!..........."
Someday, it will all be funny. Maybe even someday soon. For now, I am thankful for guardian angels and for things that never were. Mommies, don't underestimate your little ones. Get a lock that is well out of their reach well before you ever need it.
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