Hello, My Name is Trouble

This afternoon I was in a sugar induced coma--I ate LOTS of a Maggie Moo's chocolate turtle ice cream cake which was totally worth it by the way--so I took a short nap. Would you believe it if I told you that while I was sleeping Anderson raided my purse and chewed the remaining 12 pieces (sharing only one with Carter) of the package of Positively Pomegranate Orbit gum I bought at Walmart this morning? The wrappers are at the bottom of my purse. The package is in the trash. I have no evidence that the 11 pieces of gum are anywhere but the pit of his stomach. Oh yeah, he's trouble!

PS. He's mad at me right now because I'm telling you this story and ignoring his need for food so he just spit at me. It's okay, you can laugh. I want to.

Hello, My Name is Trouble

Tonight during our 10 minutes of FHE Anderson did everything but sing or listen. He:

• tried to take my sock off
• brought me our copy of The Lion King 2
• played with the phone
• tried to take Marc's sock off
• got in a hitting match with Carter

We decided to stop there.

Hello, My Name is Trouble

(Oooh, [He's] a Little Runaway!)

[Unfortunately] I find that my sweet addiction is fueled by my emotions and many days (i.e. a few weeks ago when we went to Maggie Moos) chocolate can melt my mood down to mellow. But, there are also circumstances like today's when no amount of chocolate, and believe me, I've consumed my share in the past few hours, can calm me.





We have 1:00 church, but our ward is so large we have to get there at about 12:40ish to get a pew where we can corral our two dear boys. We leave around 12:30. Marc was making lunch in the kitchen while I was upstairs putting on my make up. I finished and went downstairs to eat. Marc asked me how Anderson was doing. I looked from the table into the family room and said, I don't see him. He said, he's not in the family room, he went upstairs. I hadn't heard him, but that didn't mean anything. I ate quickly and went back upstairs to brush my teeth, but I checked on Anderson first. Not in his room. Not in the office. Not in my closet. Not behind my bed. I was getting a tiny bit frantic. I went downstairs and checked the basement. Not there. Not in the garage. By then, I basically tore off my boots and followed Marc outside, running. As I ran outside, there were two nice ladies, one pushing a little girl in a stroller, holding Anderson's hand walking toward our house. They said they found him (barefoot) walking across the street from the park. The park is behind our house which means he walked all the way down our street, around the corner and down that street a little ways before deciding to cross the street. He must have gone out the front door as the garage door was closed and back door locked. But the front door was closed so we didn't know he was gone. Nor do we know for how long. Scary. (Understatement!) I'm not sure how the two ladies knew to come walking down our street. I'm grateful they did, and for the hundred other things that Heavenly Father did not allow to happen to my baby. Today could have been a much different day.





P.S. I'm emotionally spent.

Hello, My Name is Trouble

Carter left the hand soap on the edge of the counter after washing one day last week. Here's how I found Anderson later that day--trying to bathe himself and wash his hair. I told Marc later that night about it and he grinned and stated what we've known for quite some time. "I guess we got a different one this time around."

Anderson turns two in three weeks. This title might become a regular one as I chronicle the trouble he gets his curious self into. (I know-- you shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition!) You can read about a previous escapade here!

Hello, My Name is Trouble

You've seen that little boys t-shirt at Target, right? The navy one that has a silk screen name tag that you might wear at a convention or a corporate mixer on it and in the space for the name there's the word "trouble." Well, Marc and I don't necessarily believe in buying those for our children because we think it's tagging the child in a negative way, but today I want to run out and buy it for Anderson. I won't, but I really, really want to. This second child of ours has always been a little more demanding of us--he didn't sleep through the night regularly until he was 9 months old, whereas Carter was 2 months. He isn't an errand runner-1 hour or 2 stores max. A few months ago he started this whole arching his back and crying loudly if he didn't get his way--Carter doesn't even do that now. He's successfully climbed out of his straps in the stroller once, but he's tried countless times. And you guessed it, Carter never did that either. (Maybe it was the extended hours in the jogger he spent the summer we trained for a marathon that made him a stroller-patient child!) Anderson's a handful to say the least. And what really makes me want to run out and buy the shirt are his TWO toilet brigades in the space of an hour last night. The first--I went into my bathroom, lifted up the seat, only to find a toy tiger laying at the bottom in the water. Nice. Of course Marc was busy and wouldn't come dig it out so I enlisted Carter to do it and he did, willingly. Then less than an hour later I was vegging on the couch fighting the flu bug that I'd had for two days while Marc was helping a friend get organized to apply to a grad program. Anderson was really quiet so I went to check on him. He was in the boys' bathroom causing no trouble, just digging around in the harmless stuff I have underneath the vanity, BUT his clothing was wet and the toilet seat was up. I put two and two together after the tiger incident. From now on we'll make it as difficult for him as possible--put the toilet seat down and shut the bathroom doors. The problem is we know he can open the doors by himself (we have door handles, not knobs) and if he can do that, he can probably get the seat up by himself, too. So, don't be fooled by his innocent face. He is, as the t shirt says, TROUBLE!