What Parker Taught Me Today

Today was the first beach day of the season for Pfunk and me. He loves loves loves the beach. Last summer he loved it even more than the pool. Actually, this was not his first trip to the beach this year.


On May 1 he was at my parent's house and they took him to the beach to play in the sand. He got in the water. It was cold, I'm told. My parents did not get in. Parker did not seem to mind the water temperature. It was water and that is all he needs for a good time.

On to the lessons for the day:

1. Collecting sea glass with a 2 year old is super fun. I started a collection of sea glass today. There are no plans for these weathered pieces of odd shaped glass, but for now I will put them in a clear glass jar. Once I buy a clear glass jar.

2. Seashells make a yummy beach snack. They are crunchy like potato chips. AND salty like potato chips. Are you sure these aren't potato chips?

3. When collecting seashells or sea glass or gravel, the top of your mom's bathing suit is a good place to store them. If only she would stop squirming and pulling them out. Does she know how long it took me to get that specific handful of gravel?

4. It is apparently Parker's job to put every piece of sand on the beach, back into the ocean. Grainy bit by grainy bit.

5. Pman and I spotted at least 6 dead baby crabs on the beach. I picked up the first one and put it with our stuff so we could take it home. Then I saw another one and another and another. It became less interesting and more sad. I hope they perished because of natural baby crab causes and not because of some twisted off shoot from the wretched oil spoil in the Gulf. Double damn you BP!

6. My son does not care what I look like in a bathing suit. He loves me and wants me to roll in the sand and then parade down the beach with him in all our sandy glory. He wants me to join him while he is in the water and then as he sits directly on the dry, hot sand. Living my life with a toddler in tow has made me less self conscience, more aware of the world around me, determined to be a better person and happier.

Question of the Day: How is it SweetP, that I am almost 30 years old, but I feel like my life just began nearly 2 years ago?

Wordless Wednesday: Phillips Endorsements

Just a boy and his nips

They're gRRRRReat!

Gold Star

Confession: We do not have one single band-aid in our house. Not one. How a house with a toddler boy functions without the aid of bandages is a mystery, but there you are.

Confession #2: I am a picker, popper, and poker. I CAN NOT leave zits, scabs, in-grown hairs, hang nails etc. etc. etc. alone. I must pick and pick and pick until they bleed or puss or get worse or something.

About a week ago I jacked up my thumb something awful. It started as a little...I don't know...skin hang nail(?) (eww) and because of my horrible picking habit, I turned it into a bloody groove in the middle of my thumb. On my right hand. I am right handed. This is not the first time I have done this to myself.

I had to ask a friend for a band-aid. She pulled one out of a first aid kit.

Not only did she have a band-aid, she had a whole first aid kit. Needless to say, I do not have a first aid kit.

Flash to this afternoon. While P napped I organized the garage- who knew!? I'm not sure what I did, but at one point I looked down and my foot was bleeding. A lot.

I think I may have run over my own foot with one of P's car things, but who knows? Maybe a bat spider bit me or maybe we have rats and my dirty garage-floor foot looked yummo to them.

All I know was my foot was bleeding and I was (still) without band-aids.

Josh was out running errands, so I called him, informed him of the happenings since his departure and asked him to bring home gauze and tape.

WHY DIDN'T I ASK FOR BAND-AIDS?!!?

When he got home he tended to my foot and changed P’s poo pants as I could not possibly walk around and track blood through the house…(yes he fell for that line).

Since he played rugby and sustained many an injury, he thinks he can wrap my foot. I left the house after a bit, with Pman headed to a birthday party.

Though the cut is near my big toe, the wrap would lead you to believe I had some sort of ankle injury.
*****
P was not feeling the bath/bed routine this evening.

He cried- well fake cried, so really it was just wailing- through most of the bath.

Then I dropped a squishy rubber tub toy (read: one step up from a wash cloth) on his head sending him into a shrilly tantrum that could be heard from planets yet discovered.

I was about to join P in the no tears screaming fit. Just as I was about to curl up in a ball in the foyer and rock back and forth until the bad stopped, Josh came into the bathroom with a (clean) diaper on his head, like a hat.

Pman started to giggle.

No, he was all out laughing.

What a faker!

How did Josh come up with that? How did he know a diaper as a hat would be the trick to turn it all around? These questions will never really have an answer. Or maybe it a guy thing.

Either way you earned a gold star today Josh.