I really, really wanted to do this every month for ducky but I kept forgetting so here it goes:

At 4 months you now
laugh out loud
sleep through most of the night
suck your thumb, finger, and whatever gets near your mouth
are teething, as evidenced by the fact that you drool a mile a minute and are cranky as heck (we can see something there, but you won't let us get a good look)
roll over front to back
do the helicopter move. Right now you will crawl forwards only when you're extremely annoyed and to the point of crying. Any other time you'll just go backwards.
are a boobman
give the biggest smiles evah and have the cutest dimple in your face when you do.
have lost a bunch of hair, you still need a haircut but you've thinned out

You are such an easygoing baby it's not even funny. I haven't even thought of taking you back to the hospital once which is totally the opposite of your brother (but don't tell him I told you)

There I was, I couldn't have been more than 5 maybe six and was still peeing on the bed. My sister also did it but she's older than me by two years. She was seven maybe eight. Some crazy neighbor lady told my father that she knew a surefire way to get us to stop peeing the bed. So he decided to give it a go. So that night before bed that lady, some random man, my father, sister, and I all piled up in our one bedroom apt. The lady brought over a 5 gallon can of crisol (kindof like crisco). Then my dad took the caldero (cast iron pot, hispanic people make their rice here) and put it on the stove and heated it. Once the caldero was very very hot, they took some rags and placed it inside the can of crisol. They then placed the crisol in the middle of the room. Then the crazyness happened.

Pee on it.
say what?
You heard me, pee on it. It'll make you stop peeing the bed.
Uh, no thanks. I'm fine, really. I don't fly like that.
Pee.On.It.Now. And make sure that you pee inside the caldero.
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so, there I am, in my innocent childlike innocence and I have to pull my pants down in front of these people so that I can pee in a hot caldero? I'm pretty sure that if The Hubby knew how eager I was to please others when I was younger, he'd want a refund of some sort.

So.... I hovered over the can and peed. I'm pretty sure you all know what happens when you put an empty pot on the stove and then add water to it after it gets hot. There was steam EVERYWHERE. And it hit me. there. Gosh, that was a lot of steam generated. Cuz you know, they wouldn't let me go to the bathroom beforehand and I had a lot to empty.

There was no neosporin for my burned insides, just a: take it like a man and stop crying.
And then it was my sister's turn. Oh boy, that was not fun. Correction, it was fun for me. She was smart, she did a drive by type of thing and wouldn't stay over the caldero long enough to feel the burniness of the steam. Not even when the adults threatened her with the big mama belt.

I did stop peeing the bed, I'm not sure that it was definitely that incident that caused it to happen although if they threatened to burn my bits again I would've probably never peed again. My sister went on to have a successful bed peeing career. I think she stopped when she was about 12. To this day, they still credit the caldero recipe for my stopping peeing on the bed. They say that because my sister didn't do it right, is the reason she kept on peeing.


I'm not so sure. Anyone know the number for international CPS? I'm pretty sure that incident would qualify my father to get his parental rights terminated. Or at least get him sterilized or something. And then katie wonders why I'm this messed up.

So, I'm watching judge judy and in the case the woman's complaining how the ex put lawnmower oil in her gas tank resulting in expensive repairs and such. All of a sudden, The Hubby, who was folding laundry while I sat on my butt and watched TV blurts out:

I did that once and continues to fold laundry.
whoa, back up here. you did what?
I put something in a lady's gas tank. except that it was sand that I put in there.
when? why? tell me! at this point am teethering on the edge of my seat. Judge Judy aside, my goody two shoes husband did criminal mischief. I've gotta get the details.
Oh, it was nothing. It was a lady that my dad used to date. She treated him badly and I put sand in her gas tank to get even. I was a teenager at the time.
did you tell anyone?
no. over in (insert the name of the island town he used to live in), if anyone'd learned I'd gotted beat up badly. So don't tell anyone.

point taken husband. The words: my husband commited random acts of criminal violence will not cross my lips. I pwomish that I won't blog about it either. I pwomish

What I had, was actually a sudden drop in body temperature. By the time I got home, I was running a high fever. So, doctor mom prescribed some much needed sleep and on weds the kids were shipped off to the sitter's while I slept the ills away. It was just what I needed and am feeling back to my normal self.

I'm sooo cold in the office that my fingers are literally turning blue. I've drunk like 3 cups of hot cocoa already to try and warm up to no avail.

the kicker? It's beach weather outside my window...Wish I could play hookie :)

and I dragged the boys with me. puking, coughing, fever. It sucks big time because all I felt like doing is crawl under a rock and die, I mean sleep but I had take care of the boys too. All The Kid wanted to eat was sweet peas, blueberries and juice. Three days of that, I don't even have to go into what his output was.

But, we're on the mend now. In fact, The Kid is feeling so much better now that saturday he finally managed to do a full on front flip. It's a little project he's been working on for a few months now. You know, in the edge of the bed or on top of the couch. Just enough danger to give me a mild heart attack. Well, saturday he graduated from doing just a tumble, to a full on flip. At two point five years old. What the heck??!

at least he's feeling better; although I do fear that I will end up with a full heart attack next.

Picture this:

friday night around 10:30pm, I'm coming home from church and am driving in a dark bumpy road.

I'm approaching a red light. It is the only source of light in the whole intersection. I'm slowing down but just before the car comes to a complete stop, I hit a manhole. But not just any manhole, this one is raised above the ground and it is so dark that it's not visible. And I didn't just hit it with the car, only the rim of the car hit it. So, what happened? The rim came off the wheel and went rolling down the intersection and stopped in the middle of the road. Did I stop to pick it up? Heck no! The light turned green and I had sleeping to do.

Here's the short video of duckie. Unfortunately, photobucket is being a pain in the arse and won't let me put the actual video feed in the post. So here's the link. Also, the whole thing is almost three minutes long. You get the same effect if you fast forward it, plus he looks funny that way :)

Please forgive the darkness, for some reason everything I record with the camera comes out extremely dark. Also, from about 1:44 until around :50 seconds, he's stuck on top of the remote and can't get off it.

I don't know if you've ever held a baby chick, but they're such fragile animals that they will practically die on you if you sneeze. Why do I tell you this? Because when I was around two and my sister around four, we were given a dozen baby chicks as pets. Needless to say, they died. The way they died is today's topic.

**I do warn you that death is described in a cold hearted manner. As you read this remember that I did this as a toddler and that any responsibility for their death, if any, should be given to the dummies that decided chicks would make a perfect gift for a toddler.**

I can only remember the deaths of a few of them since I was so young, but I've been told by the adults that the rest of them met similar fates. One of them simply would.not.eat. I tried feeding it. I remember my hand around the chick's body pushing it into it's feed bowl trying to make it eat. Not sure exactly how it died, but it must've either choked or been choked by me. Another one would not drink it's water. That one I believe drowned in my attempt to make it do that cute little pick up the water and lift the head up maneuver that they do. Another one of them was playing horsie with me (or the other way around, I don't want to be too graphic). The last chickie, I vaguely remember grabbing it's little leg and swinging it round and round in a wide circle. I seem to remember that I wanted it to know what a merry go round felt like. I must have dropped it at some point or hit a wall with it, because I distinctly remember that I had just a chicken leg in my hand. The darn thing just wasn't made like they used to. Thankfully I didn't go on to continue aiding on the demise of chickens everywhere when I got older. I do believe that my actions scarred/traumatized the adults in my family because no matter how hard I begged, they never bought me a baby chicken again. Not even when I was 10 and the lady had several dozen of them spray painted with easter and neon colors. And I so wanted that neon purple chick too.

Katie, if you tell the internets anything else regarding this, I shall spray you with something. I don't know what, but I promise it will be sticky and hard to clean.

I do have to mention that I'm a much better pet owner now that I have the full use of my faculties, and that my hand eye coordination is much better.