The Magic Spacing Number

And last, but certainly not least in this guest post series is Chantelle. She is a mom, wife, & florist. She has a new feature on her blog called Conversations With My Kids that I am loving. Venture on over and check it out.

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I’m so excited to be guest posting here at Boy Crazed Mama. I hope Jami is enjoying her vacation. I’m Chantelle from Mom Went Crazy. As the name implies my kids drive me absolutely nuts. They’re clearing a space for me at the loony bin as we speak. I mean they’re cute and everything, but...well, you know.

I have two daughters. Emma is three and Sophie is six months. They are two years and eight months apart in age.

I think this is the absolute pinnacle of child spacing. I don’t think I could have them any closer in age without involving some serious drinking binges, medication or some sort of therapy.

My husband, Mike, wanted our kids spaced further apart. I said no and went off birth control. He vowed not to sleep with me until six months later when he thought we should start trying. I was pregnant seven weeks after that conversation.

For anyone else considering the 30 to 38 month window of child spacing, here is some food for thought.

I love a good list, don’t you?

Pros

· Emma is old enough to understand the word ‘no.’ Not that it matters.

· She knows that the knife drawer is not for playing in.

· She knows you don’t drink the ‘blue juice’ under the sink.

· When the baby needs to be put down for a nap, or eat, or mom needs to make herself a mid-morning martini, I can put on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and know that she’s not going to kill herself in my absence. FYI – that martini makes the ‘hot dog dance’ so much more fun.

· Emma is old enough to know how to be gentle without maiming Sophie. This means mom can pee without having to bring the baby in for safekeeping. Although an audience usually ensues regardless.

· Emma will be out of the house when Sophie starts driving so I won’t have two kids fighting over who gets to take the car.

· They are close enough in age that they can play together. Alone. More martini time for mom.

· Emma can talk really well so I’m not left guessing what a toddler wants while holding a screaming baby.

· Emma is totally potty trained. This knowledge makes me feel good on days when Sophie craps up her back. (You know what I’m talking about.)

Cons

· Emma can open a door. Not cool when you’re nursing a baby and your three year old runs out the front door. Forget babyproofing, I need to preschooler proof that shiznit.

· Just when I got finished with diapers, I had to start all over again.

· Emma doesn’t nap anymore. There is No. Alone. Time. Ever. From six in the morning until eight at night those bitches own me.

· Emma can reach things and can find ways to get at what she can’t reach. Have you ever walked in on your three year old putting lipstick on your baby?

· She can talk which may prompt her to say things to strangers like “Mommy has milk in her boobies.”

· They’re close enough in age to gang up on us.

What do you think? Don’t agree? Think I’m a genius? Let me know!

Kids. They Can Drive You CRAZY…

…especially when the snow keeps you
cooped up in the house for days.

Welcome Sandi. She is a crafty SAHM to a 6 year-old boy who clearly had to spend too much time indoors with him during those 2 weeks of snow we had in our neck of the country.  I was totally there with her. Those days we were snowed in were crazy. My boys needed to go outside BADLY. Almost as badly as this momma needed them to go outside.

Sandi blogs over at CraftingWithRHINOS.

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When I volunteered to share a story with Jami's followers while she was on her family vacation, so many crazy adventures came to mind. You see, I grew up in a family that loved travel. My grandparents had an RV and took us on fabulous trips all over the United States. It was miserable being cramped in such a small space for hours at a time, but also very fun.

I started by making lists of some of my favorite excursions, and soon had pages written with all sorts of hilarious stories I could write about. Narrowing it down became frustrating, especially with my 6 year old son high on cabin fever.

Being trapped in our house during all of the winter weather we have been "blessed" with, along with his nasty cold, has had him poking at my nerves with imaginary thumb tacks. Inevitably, I started daydreaming of far off (and somewhat horrific) places that I could ship him off to.

You understand.

I know you have spent moments wishing your kid(s) were anywhere but where you are because they were making you want to shave your head bald.

Ok, so maybe that is just me. The bald part.

So the daydreams started coming more frequently as I found myself trying to hide from him (and sometimes his friends) in my own house. That's when I began writing down some of the more "unfortunate" destinations my mind had been plotting for him.

Here are just a few:

• Trekking through the Sahara, with a bottle of what appears to be water dangling mere inches from his grasp. Only to find out after reaching and gulping down half, that it was filled with donkey sweat.
• Being made to pick up glitter (one piece at a time) after a Martha Stewart taping, to be allowed entrance to LegoLand. And then finding LegoLand had been closed down forever.
• Be given the keys to drive a race car at the Indy 500, but every step he took towards the car, it would get smaller and smaller. And when finally reaching it, it poofs into a pink Barbie corvette toy.
• Letting him loose in a video game store, with an unlimited shopping spree card. But finding all the game cases to be empty, and all the game stations not working.

You get my drift. I am diabolical. I truly do love my son, and don't actually wish him any harm. Most of the time. But this last week has been the bane of my existence! But I do thank you for letting me stop by, and hope that none of you actually never get the chance to piss me off!

Footprints in the Sand

Meet my friend Zelma. She lives on an island. A tropical one. Puerto Rico to be exact. Yes, I am jealous. Very jealous. How I’d love to dive there! And? Zelma bakes. Sweet, sugary, yummy things. Should I ever make it to Puerto Rico I will meet Zelma, eat her baked goodies, & dive those beautiful waters.

And, Zelma, thank you for your kind words about some of my posts.

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I met Jami a few months ago through Twitter, and we have become good “virtual” friends. We have a lot in common, as we both have a 4-year-old son. She was also fortunate to have a second son; after my miscarriage 2 years ago, I’m still working on that. I also love to read her blog. She has an awesome sense of humor and a huge heart. She has made me laugh (read: “Say No to Double Strollers”) and she has made me cry (read: “Wawk”). She is also a very loyal friend who would stick by you and offer her unconditional support when you need it (read: “Moms: Let’s Stop Judging Each Other”). Ohh, and even more that we have in common? We both hate shopping and bad drivers!

I also love the fact that she’s a teacher. True, she may be a SAHM now, but once a teacher, always a teacher. I love love LOVE her Tots & Teens Thursday series, it has given me a lot of tips on how to work with lil man, especially getting him motivated to read. It is usually very hard to get him motivated to do something, especially something new. I think he gets embarrassed that he will fail at whatever he needs to do, and simply refuses to try. He doesn’t have any diagnosed disorder, but he does have a bit of delay in his neurological development, which has affected his thought process, as well as his fine and gross motor skills. He is getting weekly Speech Therapy and Occupational Therapy sessions at home, and I have to say, they’re not always good sessions. He started about 8 months ago, and he has made a lot of progress, especially in his motor skills, which has greatly improved his self-esteem.

But lately? Not very cooperative. He used to love both his therapists, and would even go outside to their cars to pick them up every time they came by. Now it’s a crying fit every time they get here. I think it’s because now the exercises are getting harder, and he doesn't want to do them. Right now I can hear him talking to his Occupational Therapist in the other room, and after she managed to calm him down, their conversation was hilarious!

Her: Hey lil man, want to take off your shoes for your massage?

Him: No.

Her: Why not?

Him: Because it’s cold.

Her: OK, let’s turn the fan off. {massaging his feet with a scrub} Does this feel as hard as last week?

Him: No.

Her: Good! Maybe next time you go to the beach, you can walk in the sand without your shoes.

Him: I can’t!

Her: Why not?

Him: Because the sand is hot.

Her: OK, so maybe in the afternoon when it’s not so hot.

Him: No, the sand is hard, and gets in my toes. Then it’s hard to clean it out.

Her: But your mom can help you clean it out. Besides, getting dirty is fun!

Him: Uh-uh! No it’s not! Why are we talking about this? I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

I swear I’m not making this up! I *just* heard this conversation right now! This is the kind of discussions that he has EVERY SINGLE TIME! If I overlook the fact that he’s being incredibly difficult, I would say that they’re totally hilarious! His therapist tells me that he will make an excellent lawyer. I just hope he doesn’t drive me nuts in the process.

Being A Boy Mom

Meet Julie. She is a fellow boy mom. Her Brayden is about the same age as Boogaboo, so we have shared quite a few of the same toddler woes—hello, picky eaters-- together. In this post, Julie asks a good question:

How do we let our boys be boys without letting them be bullies?

Julie blogs over at Back to the Basics.

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When Jami needed a guest blogger, I was all over it! I mean, Boy Crazed Momma? It pretty much sums me up at this point. My son Brayden is 19 months old, and I am expecting baby #2 in early October. Obviously, we don't know the baby's gender yet so for now? It's all boy stuff around here. Tonka Trucks, car, planes, trains, blocks, etc. All boy.

And with that comes destruction, throwing, wrecking, destroying, and trying to find my sanity. I mean, I know that boys "generally" play rougher. Brayden knows he needs to be gentle with the cats. But everything else? Fair game. I am all about letting him explore that side of him and since we have been cooped up due to the snow, sometimes knocking down towers gets out some of that built up energy. But a couple of weeks ago, my views were changed slightly.

It was when my mom took Brayden with her to Bible study. She said he could go to the nursery and that it would be really good for him since we are having a hard time with him staying in there during church. There were 2 girls in there playing with a dollhouse and Brayden walked right up to the dollhouse and just smacked his hand, taking out all of the dolls and their little accessories. My son does not know gentle in relation to other kids, and quite frankly, how would he? He is either with me or my mom and dad, playing mostly by himself with no one to share with. This really bothered me- I certainly don't want to be raising a bully. And when things get out of hand at home, I feel like I have been handling it well. This scenario made me think about how I really am handling it at home and if I am doing the "right" thing. It was definitely an eye opener for me, and although at this point I am not sure what to do about it, I know that I need to do something. I need to find the balance between being a boy mom and not raising a bully.

They say that boys will be boys, but will toddler boys ever figure out how to play nice? So far, I am not convinced. I guess we will see what happens!

Switcher-Roo—Guest Post

Welcome my first guest blogger! Jessi Arias-Cooper blogs over at Mama’s Got Flair. I was first introduced to Jessi by reading her post about Happy Pappies. You have to see this post. Have. To. See. It.  Go ahead and read it. I’ll wait.

Did you pee your pants laughing? Good stuff, right?

Jessi is no stranger to being a boy mom; she has 3 of the rug rats. She shares my lack of estrogen in her house. Ahhh, the craziness of boys. Gotta love them!

Jessi and I are doing a “Mi casa es su casa” blog switcher-roo today. She is in my house & I’m over at hers. You’ll find my Christmas story of the almost trip to urgent care over on her blog today. So, meet Jessi & then hop on over to her house to visit me!

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Cooper Family Vocab: Take That Webster!

Just as every region has it's lingo, so does every family. Growing up, some terms that passed our lips as little ones, stuck, forevermore, as Arias family terminology.

For example, if you were to dine with my parents, you would sprinkle your spaghetti with “butt cheese” (grated Parmesan) and sop up mom's delicious meat sauce with “stinky bread” (garlic bread).

Even though my sibs and I are grown up, married and have families of our own, these terms have hung around, and will be passed on for generations to come...just ask our kids.

Speaking of kids, I happen to have an energetic brood of young boys (ages, 5, 3 and 1). I'm just as boy-crazed as my pal, Jami, here. I think that's why we get along so famously...or on Twitter...infamously. Well, that and a deep and passionate appreciation for a wicked-rad mullet.

So, anyhoo...

The vocabulary in the Cooper house is just as diverse and unique as la casa de Arias. As my kids grow, and toy with language, our family dialect evolves. In the last four years, these additions have been made, and mind you, I'm only sharing ones that we use on a regular basis.

“Schmoin”- pronunciation: sh-moyn- translation: Storm - My oldest apparently couldn't say our dog's name, so he made one that worked for him.

“Peanutbutterjellyfish”- pronunciation: peenut butter jelleefish- translation: PB&J sandwich – While they all call jelly, jelly, they still refer to the actual sandwich as a “peanutbutterjellyfish.”

“Dundun”- pronunciation: dun dun – translation: Being done. Finished. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.

“Oh naps”- pronunciation: oh naps – translation: Oh snap! Courtesy of my middle child. He used it regularly, and now we do, too.

“The hot”-  pronunciation: the hot- translation: The heat vent. All three of the boys refer to the vent as “the hot,” and they all love sitting on it during the cold months. Interestingly enough, in the summer, when that sweet, delicious, can't-get-enough-of-it central air conditioning blasts through, they call it...the vent.

Even as the boys learn the right words and begin to actually use them, it's still a hard habit to break, not that I really want to, anyway.

What words and terms originate from your household?