I have so much I want to write about. I want to write about the fact that Todd and I finally got around to cleaning out the entire basement. I want to tell you how pretty it looks now, how we magically acquired 3 more usable play/work/tv/exercise/storage rooms just by cleaning out all the construction dirt and boxes, and donating a bunch of items we never use anymore. Makes me so happy.
I also want to write about our three wonderful nights of cuddling in blankets and having popcorn picnics on the floor while watching the Star Wars Trilogy that was on television. I want to write about how the boys would protest as I flipped the channel during the scary parts and how so much of this weekend reminded me of my own childhood.
I want to write about Tommy's wonderful achievement of peeing in the toilet ALL BY HIMSELF. I wanted to mention that he can successfully pull down his pants, put the toilet seat up, pee in the toilet, wipe off any and all pee drops on the toilet (what a boy!!!) with toilet paper, pull up his underwear and pants, put the toilet seat down, and flush the toilet all without getting any pee on the floor, the wall, his clothes or his hands! Though he has been potty trained for over a year it really is a much anticipated milestone.
I want to write about all of those things, but I won't. Instead I will tell you what a fabulous mother I am. I am so fabulous, in fact, that I gave my dear, sweet, youngest boy a big, fat lip. With my butt. Yep. My butt.
I am always worried about the boys rough housin' down in the basement because of the hard floor. It has carpeting, and probably the thinnest padding underneath it, but under that is cement. Obviously. The floor is so hard that I'm always concerned someone is gonna take a digger and knock some teeth out or something.
I had to do a crazy amount of laundry this morning so the boys came downstairs to play in the nice, clean basement while I got started on the massive piles of clothes. With one hand on the laundry basket handle, and one hand on top of the overflowing heap of towering clothes I began to drag the basket from the laundry room to the basement's "family room". I was walking backward tugging and pulling on the basket and noticed Ben was coming up behind me.
"Watch out, honey! Go back by Tommy!" I warned him.
He turned on his heels and started to walk back toward Tommy. He was moving quickly, but obviously not quickly enough to escape the wrath of my big 'ole K-Lo bootie. I must have miscalculated his speed and as I geared up again and started walking backward I plowed into the poor little man with me bum ,and he tipped forward and landed on his face. There was crying. And there was blood. I felt horrible. Poor little sweetie. He just wanted to be by his mum, and what does he get for it? A big ghetto bootie blaster knocking him on his face! Sheesh.
I ran up upstairs, put a cool, wet washcloth on his mouth, and gave him some ice water to drink. He calmed down pretty quickly, but he still wasn't happy. See?
I know. I am so mean for taking his picture when he just got an boo-boo. He wasn't happy about it either. He didn't even want to look at me and usually he is a complete ham.
Fortunately, he really likes his mommy and all was soon forgotten. His lip is still slightly swollen, but he ate his lunch really well, and has been giving nonstop kissies so it can't be too bad.
Yep. I am a fabulous, fabulous mom.