It has begun. At the ripe ol' age of 8 1/2 months, my son has taken on the name of Hell on Wheels and he's 15 years shy of a driver's permit. BK3 is just like his daddy. Calm, content, and caring. Nothing really bothers him, except the few times I'll wave a bottle in front of his little hungry face in hopes that he'll say "mama". But that's about it. At almost 9 months, he still barely crawls. I started to think that he would go straight to walking, when just this week, he started to take a few on all fours. He'll crawl about 2 strides, then sit back and rest. If his toy gets tossed across the room, he'll look at it, sigh, and go on to another toy that's close. Lazy? Maybe, but definitely content. Not bothered. It's great for now, since I don't have to gate him in, leash him up, or whatever people do these days to make sure their kids don't get into things. He sits on his carpet and plays...when I walk by, he'll look up at me, throw his hands in the air and kindly ask with his big brown eyes "Pick me up mama?"
Well all of this took a good healthy turn today. As I usually let him spend a little while in his walker each day, today was no different. Normally he won't go too far, mostly backwards. But today, something clicked. Light switch. My son figured out how to lean into that walker the direction he wanted to go, then BAM those li'l legs start a going, and before you know it, he's in a full sprint across the tile. STILL. No big deal. YET.
I'm going about 90 mph to keep up with the housework, cooking (if I even cook that day), office work, preparing for class, you name it, and BK3...not sure what i was doing at this particular moment but I head into the kitchen where B3 is, and notice a puddle of what looks like dog piss on the floor. Um...Roxie? I look up to see Roxie huddled up in the "dog chair" tail tucked under. Wondering why she relieved herself on the kitchen floor, I let her out, cleaned it up, made sure it wasn't on B's feet, and we're moving on. Fast forward to about 30 minutes later...B's still in his walker and I am folding clothes in the living room. I hear B go fast and Bam...runs into something. Giggles. Repeat. I paused before finally going into the kitchen...JUST as I turn the corner, he clips Roxie's heels with the walker...she scurries off, tail tucked....B giggles....wait is that PISS!? I take one look around the room at the 4 piles of piss to realize the culprit. My son. In our tiny 13 by 12 kitchen, 4 puddles of dog pee and a VERY scared Golden-Doodle with sore heels. BK3 was having the time of his life. So now I'm cleaning up more piss, making sure my son's feet aren't caked in it, and taking him out of the walker to give Roxie a little time to relax.
Episode #2. Today, I had about 30 minutes to give B his lunch bottle, feed him his lunch then head out of the house before teaching for 7 hours. I put him in his high chair with his bottle, while I packed him up, loaded the car, put on real shoes (I was afraid I'd leave in my slippers if I didn't change now), and mascara, eat lunch, then feed B his lunch...and head out. B was done with his bottle my tasks were almost complete, so I put him in his favorite place (the walker) for a few minutes while I finish up. The dog room is off set from our kitchen, and since it's an add-on room, it has a little wood strip that divides on the floor. B's walker hasn't been able to get over this hump, to this day. I was taking an important phone call, and a few minutes later I look over to see B IN the dog room (way to get over that hump), holding the dog bowl. Holy shit. I had just filled the dog bowl with about a gallon of water. It was now about an inch deep at Brannan's feet...which he was gladly stomping in. Dog room, flooded. I've got 3 minutes to shove sweet potatoes down his throat, and now I've got to perform some sort of flood clean up. Meanwhile, Boss is just sitting in the dog chair (same one Roxie resorted to) looking at me like "I didn't do it."
Episode 3. I take Brannan to his room to change him. Realizing at this point YEP....just another day I'll be late. I'm pretty good at it now. The being late thing. And I have him on his changing pad, which lies atop his dresser, tucked below the shelves of the hutch. We've been talking about raising the bottom shelf soon, since when B rolls over on his changing pad, his head hits the shelf....Brannan, in rare and hilarious form today, decided it would be fun to take his feet (once I had his shoes put on) and kick the shelf above him. Mind you, the shelf, that is somehow only manufactured to be held to the hutch with two stud things on each side....not 4. So one good swift kick and this shelf was at a diagonal. With a heavy piggy bank, books, a heavy glass frame....wow. Not to mention how heavy the shelf itself was. My son's leg just may be as golden as I hope it is once he starts Soccer! Instead of letting his leg go, so that I can re adjust the shelf, he decided to keep it there, like a kick stand. While I have a mini-panic and finally secure everything, I gave a loud firm "NO" and held him still. I could tell by my own face that I had a scary look offered.....he laughed at me. Louder than any tickle session. Laughed. In my face. Oh boy. Here we go.
So aside from the wine bottle he managed to pull out of the fridge door (I thought I had closed that?). The mini shelf episode. The great dog-room flood. Or maybe the 5 puddles of dog piss I managed to clean up today....It was a good day. And that was just the adventures of Mommy and BK3. I love it. I laughed all day long. This little boy has my heart, and I cannot wait for all of the many adventures we'll go through. Now...just need to work on that "mean face".
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