We got better at it, of course, as time went on. It took a bit longer with BigBrother to figure out how to hold a diaper over him while scooting another one underneath and that fast move where you fasten the other diaper and pray that the teeny bit of air that came in contact with his nether regions wasn’t enough to cause a fountain to hit your face. By the time LittleBrother was born, we were cocky and had apparently forgotten about the fire hose issue. He got us good a couple of times.

Those days are behind us now. The only thing I’m worried about nowadays is reminding them to pee in the toilet, to pay attention and, please boys, keep it off the floor! It’s really less amusing than getting peed on. It just is, trust me.

That’s why when I saw the following Huggies commercial today, I howled. Out loud. At the dentist’s office with a spit-sucker in my mouth.

Oh, man. That’s funny stuff. When the pee knocks that picture frame over? That’s true stuff. It just is. At least, that’s how I remember it in my mind. FireDad agrees. It’s serious business, that baby boy pee.

We got home from the dentist today and I pulled up the commercial on YouTube. The boys found it hysterical. “Can we watch it again?” I played it again. BigBrother laughed that belly laugh that lets us know he is more than deeply amused; he is tickled. LittleBrother squealed every time the baby peed. When we informed them that they peed on us, the laughs got louder. “REALLY?!” Yes, really.

They laughed and laughed. And we laughed, too.

Mainly because someday? They’ll get peed on, and I’ll laugh and laugh.

Parenting Boys Starts Out Funny, Stays Funny is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

After I shared it on the app, Woy responded, “He sleeps like Marty McFly!” I laughed. FireDad laughed. Last night we actually remembered to Google a picture of Marty McFly sleeping for comparison.

Oh man. That’s funny stuff. My very own Marty McFly.

The truth is that my kids sleep in increasingly strange positions. While they were sharing a full size air mattress on our visit, LittleBrother was pulling the McFly as his brother turned sideways in bed with his feet in his brother’s face. And they didn’t care, notice or move. Usually I have to move BigBrother back to his pillow because he’s in the crack next to the wall, halfway down the bed or upside down. They both still sleep with their butts in the air on occasion as they did when they were babies old enough to roll over. They roll into the wall. I take pictures… with flash. And they never wake up.

It must be awesome to be able to sleep like that…

Helloooo, McFly! is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

And now I will share my favorite story from Vegas that has nothing to do with technology and everything to do with me giggling in my pajamas at 5:00 in the morning.

My alarm went off at 5:00 on Friday morning. I was trying to stay as close to Eastern time as possible. I wanted to get up, get some work done, get ready and get checked out before heading back over to the Las Vegas Convention Center for some more geeking out. I hit snooze and immediately fell back asleep. The MGM has some crazy comfortable beds.

I woke up a few minutes later to the sound of someone trying to get in my door. I sat straight up and listened intently. I threw back the covers, padded to the door and looked out my peephole.

And tried not to snort very loudly.

The noise was not someone trying to get in my door. He was trying to get in the door of the room next to me.

And he was standing there in his boxer briefs.

And nothing else.

Not even socks!

I had to clasp my hand over my mouth.

We had been joking the night before that the pool in the MGM is so far from all of the rooms. You’d have to walk back to your room, sopping wet, in front of everyone in the casino. Hopefully you remembered a towel! But this guy? This guy was not just returning from a leisurely swim. This guy was just rocking a pair of gray boxer briefs standing in the middle of the hallway at o’dark o’Vegas-clock, desperately trying to whisper in the door for his companion to open it, prettyfreakingplease.

I think he eventually saw the shadow of my feet, because he tried to get as close to the wall and his own door as possible.

Didn’t work well for him. He wasn’t a small dude.

Eventually, hotel management responded to a mostly naked dude on the 16th floor. He said, and I quote, “I’m going to have to see some ID, of course.” Boxer Brief Dude responded, “It’s in my pants. On the dresser.” I bet he takes his ID with him next time he goes traipsing about in his underoos. Eventually they got things sorted out and Boxer Brief Dude shut his door.

I, of course, had been tweeting the whole thing (as you could get Internet connectivity when the rest of Vegas was sleeping). There were some giggles, and Calliope made me snort (quietly) again.

That said, he was not really my type. I mean, I like boxer briefs. But, uh, I like my men a little less… old. And willing to be caught in the hallway in their underpants. Unless it was a good reason. But I’m not sure it was. I’d apologize for not trying to take an iPhone picture through my peephole, but, trust me, it’s better this way.

What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas… Unless… is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

Remember how I mentioned that the post-Christmas sales on eBay for old Hallmark ornaments is spectacular? Well, I decided to just check for a few. I scored the 2009 firefighter Snoopy that I missed because it sold out quickly in our area. And then I saw it. Angels kind of sang. I squealed a bit.

A 1992 firefighter Santa. 1992! I have no idea what I asked for and received the Christmas of 1992, but I can tell you that I didn’t have enough foresight to know that I’d be living in Ohio and married to a professional firefighter eighteen years later. Needless to say, I didn’t have the 1992 Santa firefighter, who is misnamed.

Why is he misnamed? Well the official name is North Pole Fire Fighter. Which, by the way, is the least imaginative Hallmark Keepsake ornament name ever.

After I took him out of the box, I decided he should be named, “Santa, the Firefighter Pole Dancer from 1992.” I mean, take a look.

Classic.

I’ve currently banned myself from eBay. Er, well, I did. After I wrote that sentence. But not before I placed a bid on three firefighter ornaments from 2005, 1995 and 1994. I love me some hard to find classics. It also helps that the ones I just bid on don’t look like they belong in the pages of Santa’s Naughty List magazine. Ahem.

(Psst: There were a bunch more “North Pole Fire Fighter” ornaments just two weeks ago. There are only five left on eBay at this moment if you simply must add this “unique” firefighter ornament to your collection! I mean, you should, if only for the giggle factor.)

Santa, the Firefighter Pole Dancer from 1992 is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

I go through phases like this, where I simply want to change how things look or feel. It’s refreshing! Granted, we needed a new couch but had been waiting until the youngest of our boys was through the teething process. Teething children often wipe runny noses on furniture. It was much easier to toss a slip cover in the washing machine than to try and toss an entire couch in there or scrub it. Scrubbing boogers makes me twitchy anyway.

While FireDad had some definite opinions for our kitchen semi-remodel (no mosaic tiles on the backsplash? pfft.), he gave me full decision making ability in the bedroom. That sounds kinky but you know what I mean. For awhile, I considered the plain, reversible comforter in colors that matched our Red Wall. I wasn’t getting rid of the Red Wall and so I needed to go with things that matched or complemented the color scheme. I looked at paisleys and florals and geometric shapes. I looked at all red, red and white, red and black, black and white, taupe, green and just about every color combination that red can be paired with and not look scary. I couldn’t find anything that I wanted, looked good or was, of course, affordable.

Enter a random trip to Sears. And the sounds of angels singing.

I wasn’t even looking for a bed set that day but it found me. I was walking past it and I had to walk backward to look at it. Stripes. We like stripes. White, aqua, green (GREEN!), purple and, yes, red. The reverse side was green (GREEN!). And the throw pillows were fun as well. I waited until payday and went to buy it at our Sears only to find they were out of our size. I called my parents to have them grab it at their store as I grabbed the throw pillows and sheets. I’m so pleased with our purchase. It has brightened up our room immensely. I don’t know what to hang in the old quilt hanging spot but I’ll figure that out eventually.

I tell you all of this not because I think you’re interested in what our bedroom looks like. I tell you this because Dee sent me a link to the Best Firefighter Bed Set Ever and I am very, very sad that I already spent good money on our new set such a short time ago. I can’t even justify this as a gag gift to make FireDad’s eyes pop out.

I mean, he gave me full decision making ability. I totally should have gone with this.

Of course, FireDad does have a birthday coming up next month. I could get this for him to put on his bunk at the fire station. Right?

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Disclosure: I wasn’t paid to share that bed set with you. I did that out of the goodness of my heart because I wanted to make my readers smile today. And/or make you choke on your coffee because you are laughing so hard. Either or, enjoy your Tuesday!

Redecorating This Fire House is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

This morning as I was getting BigBrother dressed for the day, he asked to wear a pair of sweater pants. In fact, the other day when we were dressing to go play out in our abnormally warm Spring weather, he asked for a pair of sweater shorts. He obviously means sweat pants and knit shorts that have the same feel as sweat pants. And, man, I’m not going to correct him because that’s too darn cute. Sweater pants. Look for it to trend in Fall 2010.

They’ve said, made up words and mispronounced lots of things over the years. The cuteness has been overwhelming at times. Like that one time when BigBrother said he wanted to have a “rocket show,” meaning a rock show. We asked him if he was a “rocket star” and he said, “No, I’m a rocket man!” Elton John would be proud. And then there was the time he was introduced to the word and concept of email. When I told him that the sound my phone was making was not, in fact, ringing but the sound it makes when I get an email, he said, “It’s your emo phone?” Maybe. It depends on who is calling. For years, BigBrother called fire trucks woo-woos. I still do sometimes.

LittleBrother, the just-as-verbal-but-shorter version of BigBrother, has been coming up with some killer mispronunciations as of late. The laughter around these parts has been infectious. Unlike BigBrother, he doesn’t often make up words (see: woo-woo) but has some adorable ways of pronouncing things. Burn comes out with a very Bahstahn like accent: boin. Purple also has a oi sound: poiple. As BigBrother recently mastered his L-sound, LittleBrother is giving a go at it and things just tumble out of his mouth, sounding cute and funny. It was all fun and cute and innocent.

Until recently.

We were playing a rousing game of Mario Kart after supper one evening when BigBrother got the lightning bolt, shrunk everyone and announced, “I SHRUNK YOU!” From across the room, LittleBrother chimed in, “YEAH! I F*CK YOU!”

Insert pregnant pause here.

FireDad and I looked at each other and then at LittleBrother.

“Say shrunk.”
“F*ck.”

“Shrunk.”
“F*ck.”

“Sh.”
“Sh.”

“Runk.”
“Runk.”

“Shrunk.”
“F*ck.”

And then we made a bad parenting decision: we laughed. And when I say that we laughed, I mean we laughed so hard that our eyes watered. It was just so absurd! How do you get that from shrunk? He has always pronounced truck just fine which is usually a speech-tripping-block of humor for kids. So, we laughed. At that point, LittleBrother decided that he had found something that makes us happy and proudly walked around the house cussing it up one side and down the other.

Did I mention this was right before Easter? The Easter we were planning to spend with my very holy great-grandmother? Cue panic.

Thankfully he didn’t bust out with any shrinking commentary over Easter dinner. He did say it once over Easter weekend but not in ear shot of anyone who might have had an Apocalyptic, the-world-is-ending type reaction to a two-and-a-half-year-old with a teeny-tiny, sweet little voice dropping F-bombs. I mean, really, it is kind of funny to hear him, this happy little child, bust out with the F-word like it’s no big deal. But not funny at the same time.

Right now, we’re kind of avoiding the word. Shrunk, that is. We avoid the F-word itself on a normal basis, even if I step on a pointy toy fire truck in my bare feet. Thankfully the weather, until today, has been glorious so we haven’t been playing Mario Kart after supper. At first, we thought working with the sounds of the word separately, sh and runk, would help. But that first initial, rolling-on-the-floor laugh reaction has ruined him for life. I usually know better than to laugh. I am just mostly thankful that BigBrother wasn’t paying attention to the whole scenario and thus has not repeated the offending word. Yet.

Something tells me this won’t be as funny when they’re 12 and 10.

Shrunk You and Other Awful Insults is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

He/she/it/they is/are living in the pine tree at the corner of our yard. I didn’t know about their nest until yesterday evening. I have experience with mockingbirds as my parents have had two sets on The Farm, nesting behind their house for the past few years. I slept at my parents with the windows open once last year and woke up with a bird frantically cycling through multiple bird songs and random sounds. Over and over and over and over. By 9:15, I wanted to shoot the thing, ala Failure to Launch. I didn’t. I can’t even shoot a water gun. Wouldn’t have worked.

Last night, my mom and I were sitting on my deck, talking over some coffee. I heard a siren. I listened closely because that’s what fire spouses do. Nothing. We went back to talking. The siren sounded again. Just the two woo-woos that you normally pick up on first. I stopped talking again. Nothing. A few seconds later, the siren went off again. In the pine tree. Followed by the awful sound that is the mockingbird’s actual bird call. I twitched as my mom said, “You have a mockingbird!”

Great.

I didn’t even know that mockingbirds could imitate sirens. This is not a good thing. Every time I hear a siren in the background of a song on the radio, I think I’m being pulled over. When my children are playing with one of their many fire trucks, most with obnoxious sound effects, I think that there’s an emergency on a nearby street. Now when I’m outside, free from noisy-tech toys, I’m going to think that a fire truck is about to careen through the pine tree. Except that it’s not.

As I read more about the mockingbird, I’m further annoyed.

They sing a long succession of notes, and phrases, which will be repeated several times, and then changed. The call phrases can be imitations of songs of other birds. Other sounds are a raspy chijjjand a harsh chewk. The male sings in the spring, and both birds will sing in the fall. They will often sing long into the night.

Long into the night? (Quote: What the [heck] kind of Devil bird chirps at night?!) Sirens and long successions of notes and phrases? And eventually more than one? To make it all the more awesome, they dive bomb anyone who comes near their nest, humans included. Sounds fun. (Speaking of sounds, you can listen to a long phrase at this link. No sirens though.)

Whatever the case, I find it somewhat amusing that a mockingbird with a specialty for fire siren sounds has decided to nest in the yard of a firefighter and his family. I would say it was fitting or appropriate if it didn’t make me so twitchy. I will, however, try to catch a photo of the noisy offender in the near future. With or without water gun in hand.

Fire Sirens in My Backyard is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

BigBrother made five really good faces: left top, sad; left bottom, angry; center, happy; right top, silly; right bottom, surprised.

Then I asked him to make his favorite face and he ended up with this gem:

Next came LittleBrother’s turn. He was distracted by BigBrother and FireDad. Plus his attention span is a bit shorter, being only two, but he came up with three great faces: left, happy; right top, sad; right bottom, surprised.

And then he melted down which is a perfect sad face all of its own.

I enjoyed this challenge and I think the boys did, too. You know, until LittleBrother melted. Life is hard when you’re two.

Next week’s challenge is work. I’m not sure how to approach this one as I work six different jobs (five freelancing, one out-of-home) and, you know, care for these two wild and crazy guys all day long. I think it will be an interesting challenge and I hope to put a little bit of thought and time into it. I’ll be interested to see what everyone else comes up with as well. Until then, check out everyone else’s face pictures today.

You Capture: Faces is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

See Mom Run: Side-Splitting Essays from the World’s Most Harried Moms

I related really well to a story told by Meredith Jacobs of Modern Jewish Mom about how she locked her daughter in the car. She kept it a secret from her husband. I laughed so hard at this story that I nearly choked on my tears. Why?

I’ve locked my kid in the car. But I didn’t get to keep it a secret.

It was a warm June morning and I decided that I would take my lovely two year old son out to run some errands. We were home alone for a two week period as my husband was away with the Army attending a school for his recent promotion. I was twenty-some weeks pregnant with what we knew at that point to be our second son. Errands needed to be run in the early morning or I simply wasn’t going to get to them, what with the being alone, summer heat, pregnancy and a two year old.

So, off we went! I put my purse in the front seat. I put my son in his car seat and buckled him in tight, handing him a book to keep him happy on the drive. I shut the door. I walked around. I grabbed the handle and pulled only to find that the handle snapped right back, leaving the door shut.

And locked.

For a brief instant I thought that I simply had done it wrong because, in that moment before it all sunk in I figured that there are so many different ways to open a car door, right? I tried again. No dice. I walked as quickly as my pregnant behind would allow me to walk around the rear of the vehicle and tried the passenger side door. Double the no dice thing. I looked at the front seat and realized that my cell phone was sitting inside my purse. I glanced at the front of the house, knowing without checking that I had locked the front door.

Panic.

I ran to our neighbor’s house. Yes, I ran. Pregnant with complications, I still ran. She let me use her phone and I dialed the fire department.

Did I mention that my husband works for the fire department? Did I also mention that this would have been his shift day had he been working and not away with the Army? I didn’t? Well, all of that information is true. As such, I called the people that I was the absolute most familiar with at the fire department and sobbed into the phone, “I LOCKED HIM IN THE CAR!” They said they were coming.

I stood outside with my neighbor as we waited. My son was more patient then than he is now and, like Meredith’s daughter, he looked at me with a confused look on his face. “Why is Mommy outside the car? Get in Mommy, you goofball.” Things like that. He waved. He played with a book that I miraculously had given him before I locked him in the vehicle. At least I did something right.

Eventually, I heard the familiar sound of a fire truck start down our hill. I looked up. There came the bright, red fire engine… with its lights on. In it I saw my husband’s captain and another good firefighter friend. I was mortified as neighbors stuck their heads out of their front doors. My son craned his neck to see the fire truck. I wanted to hide under the car.

After a moment of discussion, it was decided that they would crawl in a window of my house and unlock the door so that I could retrieve the spare set of keys. This would ensure that nothing would break on the car in trying to unlock it. Sounds easy enough.

Great. People I know and that work with my husband, traipsing around in my house that I thought, “Oh, sure, we’ll run errands now and I’ll clean up this mess while my son is taking his afternoon nap.” I should have just said, “Sure, climb on in! Be sure to look at my dirty underwear in the bathroom when you walk through!” Mortified. Absolutely mortified.

The house was unlocked. I retrieved the spare keys. I opened the car door, unbuckled my son and pulled him into my arms. To which he yelled, “WOO WOO TRUCK!” He didn’t even know that he had been trapped in the car. I thanked my husband’s coworkers. They left. We got back in the car… without creating any lights and sirens drama… and went about our day.

Now here’s where my story differs from Meredith’s. While she was able to keep her story a secret, I couldn’t very well keep that a secret from my husband considering not only his fire department responded but his very shift. That said, I didn’t even get to keep it a secret from local friends and family. In the response call section of the newspaper the next day, the report stated that the fire department responded to a call at an address (which was ours) in which a child had been locked in the vehicle. It went on to say that the “boy looked unharmed and was happy to see the big red truck.”

What it neglected to say was that the mother looked pregnant, panicked and utterly mortified.

And that’s why I laughed so hard at the story and the others like it in See Mom Run. It’s so wonderful to learn that I’m not the only one flubbing my way through motherhood. I’m so glad to be able to laugh with these other moms at my foibles, flaws and sometimes fantastic moments.

(Some of you may remember this story from my original parenting blog. I rewrote it for this blog book tour because it needed to be on this blog, don’t you think?)

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[Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book with intent of writing about it in this blog tour. Links are through Amazon Associates.]

My Not-So-Secret Story is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

And the Random Dude between the Easter Bunny’s ears also wants to wish our readers a Happy Easter. Or, at least he does by default. So glad he could join us for the pictures. And, no, I didn’t notice him until after the pictures were taken, purchased and we had left the mall. As such, he is now a permanent part of our family’s photo album. Great fun.

We’re off creating new memories that hopefully don’t include Random Dudes.

Happy Easter from the FireFamily & Some Random Dude is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.