Life with the Kids

So, we've been passing the time here playing trucks and splashing in puddles. I have not been particularly creative, but I have been soaking in my ever changing 15 month old's personality. He's a stitch.

We've also been dealing with the aftermath of Singulair - my three year old boy seemed like he had a personality disorder on it. We will continue to investigate our options as we take him to an upcoming allergy appointment. A while back, a pulminologist had him on Pulmicort through a nebulizer daily, Singulair daily, and albuterol or Xopenex as needed. We'll see what the verdict is with the new specialist. I'm just hoping this person is more kid and mom friendly. I don't need someone telling me to pump a ton of medication into my child and then snickering in a self-important way as he tells me that this is for my child's well-being and he "highly recommends you don't read the warnings on the package inserts" when I express concerns. Funny how all the negativity surrounding Singulair came out 2 years later, huh?! Between the breathing issues and trying to seal the deal in the last steps of potty training, the three year old little guy has kept us busy around here.
Not to be left out, Princess Buttercup has been showing her personality as well. She loves to be the bigshot (she took the doll picture above) and has been helping out when it suits her. The other day, she helped me unload groceries from the car and informed me: "You can go in, Mom, I've got it." She's also on the road to developing a lovely sarcastic sense of humor much like mine where people aren't ever quite sure if you're kidding or not - interesting in a 5 year old. Yesterday as we were bringing her friend home, I made a wrong turn (shocking, I know) and turned around in a driveway. The little girl asked what I was doing and told me this wasn't her house. My daughter turned to her and said: "It is now. Your mom moved today while you were at our house." Totally deadpan. Her friend's mouth dropped open and I couldn't tell if she looked comatose or about to cry as I quickly let her know my daughter was goofing her. Apparently my responses (for instance when they ask me for a snack and I inform them that I will, in fact, never feed them again) are rubbing off. As I closed the door last night saying "Goodnight, Goofy," I felt guilty name calling for a fraction of a second until I heard her sleepy response: "Goodnight, Stinky," and my husband laughingly groaned: "Oh, God, she's you."