On top of spaghetti . . . . . .

So the other night we sat down to eat dinner. Not a huge deal to most families but those of you who know us, know that Timmy is a TERRIBLE eater. (*ahem*) He didn't eat pizza until he was four. Seriously. Now he can't get enough of it. Until this summer you would think that asking him to eat mac-n-cheese equated to ripping each of his fingers off with pliers. Now he does a happy dance when they have it for lunch or dinner. Let's not even talk about the time we had him try scrambled eggs - I am pretty sure a neighbor was ready to call CPS. OK, he still isn't a fan of eggs.
For the longest time, his dinner would be fries. Not chicken & fries or a hot dog & fries - just fries. We started to bribe him if he would eat ONE chicken tender. Now before you think we are terrible people and feed the boys junk - he loves fruit, yogurt, and healthy snacks. They don't drink soda and chose milk or water over juice. He would eat salsa with a spoon if we let him. When I make salads with peppers, I have to build Ft. Knox around the cutting board so he won't eat them all. So if the kid wants fries, I am not going to argue - it isn't worth it. Remember, we are talking Timmy - Mr. Relentless.
Last year he finally started to eat chicken. Guess what? He loves it. Now the little snot has decided that he likes chicken more than he likes fries. Welcome to the Wonderful World of Timmy. One kind of meat down, lots more to go.
We decided to push the limits the other night at dinner . . . . . a meatball. To be more specific, a turkey meatball. Why not? Thanksgiving is coming up - regular turkey would be child's play after a meatball!! So, we put it on a small plate next to his pasta and waited. He cried and whined. We laughed. (that was in our Parenting 101 book)
He looked at it and poked it (yes, poked it). Then he smelled it. Honest - I can't make this up. Then came the quote of the night . . . . .
Timmy: "What's the stuff that smells so good?"
Me: "A candle?"
Rich: "My dinner?"
Andrew: ((not suitable for this blog - let's just say he was proud of the odor))
Timmy: "NO!!!! I remember!!!! CHICKEN!!!!"

*dog head tilt*

Seriously? Chicken?

Then we got back to the task at hand - the meatball. He asked what it tasted like. Ummmmmm . . . . a turkey meatball? We lied. We told him chicken - he seemed to be on a roll with chicken so why not go with it? (that was also in Parenting 101 - maybe we got a bad copy?)
Then came the moment - something I never thought would happen. Timmy actually complained that something was too cold to eat and asked us to reheat it. I almost passed out! To say he likes his food tepid is an understatement. There have been times when I want to just toss a frozen hot dog on a plate with some ranch and ketsup for his dinner.
Once we got over the initial shock, we quickly reheated the meatball. After giving it the once over (more like third over), he "tasted" it. Then we made him *really* taste it.
And the verdict? He liked it! He really liked it!
Maybe this Thanksgiving we can all have a REAL Thanksgiving dinner!!!!

*oh - just so ya know, his pasta that night had no sauce and no cheese . . . . baby steps, people.  

Electric Boogaloo

Ya know how most parents get nervous when their kids are quiet? We don't get nervous, we are terrified! Thankfully the other night wasn't one of those times . . . . . quiet is the total opposite of what they were. What scared us is that they were in our bedroom. They had just finished up showers and were supposed to be watching Johnny Test (a current favorite in the Buck house) and settling before heading to bed . . . . yeah, not so much.
They were loud and laughing. Like crazy. Then we heard some thumps. And more laughter. Then kind of a sproingy noise (yes, a technical term). More laughter.
Then we heard, "Andrew! Watch this!"
That was our cue . . . . .

Rich was the brave one that went in (ok, so he is the only one of us that can walk right now!) . . . . and this is what I heard:
Rich: "Are you guys jumping on our bed!?!"
Timmy: "No!! We are breakdancing!"
What he really meant: "Duh dad! We know we aren't allowed to jump on your bed! And since we are such good kids that ALWAYS listen, we just find loopholes in the rules! There was never any mention of no breakdancing!"

Now we need to go through all rules and find loopholes. We are in trouble!! *sigh*

Happy Ventress Day!!!!!!!!

Hello!!!!!! I know, it has been a LONGGGGGGGGGG time since you have heard from the Buck Family! We have been busy - these darned kids seem to have activities, school, and a social life!
I couldn't think of a better way to get back than to blogging than to wish everyone a Happy Ventress Day! Yes, you heard me, Happy Ventress Day. Never heard of it? Me either! All I know is that Timmy came home from school yesterday all excited to have the day off to honor Ventress. I was shocked! A full day to honor a Clone Wars character? Wow! I must be really missing out on the new holidays! Rich always jokes about how the kids get every holiday under the sun off (I won't mention that in high school we once got a day off for beating his high school in basketball - seriously). As we talked and Timmy told us that he made a wreath for Ventress I got even MORE confused (it must be the pain meds - or lack-there-of). Why does Ventress need a wreath? Is she going on Survivor and needs an immunity necklace? Is she trying to impress some Dark Jedi?
So then Andrew translated . . . . . Happy VETERAN'S DAY!!!!
Don't think that Andrew is getting off scott free . . . . In honor of all of our brave men and women that fought for us, he made a card for out local VA. I asked what he wrote on the card and was so impressed . . . . He thanked them for their service and told them how brave they are. He thanked them again for giving up a lot to keep us safe and said he hoped that they were OK after being in the war . . . . and then came his closer:
"Are you in the Air Force or not?"
Love, Andrew

*sigh*

Duke

Duke. I am guessing that some of you are wondering who Duke is. Duke Jupiter? Nope. Duke Ellington? Nada. Duke University? Try again. The Genesis album Duke? Sadly, no.
So, who is Duke? Duke is the new dog.
What? New dog? You are probably thinking that we are totally off our rockers - even more so than usual. Dog!?!?! Yes, we already have two dogs and a cat (and two kids). But Timmy really wanted Duke. REALLY wanted Duke. He promised to take care of him and hug him and love him . . . I wanted to call him George. He said that he would feed Duke - they already feed the dogs as part of their allowance so that part I knew was true. He even got Duke a leash!! What about making sure Duke got exercise? Timmy said he would do it. What about cleaning up after Duke and watching him? He SWORE he would. He promised. I believed him.
Why on God's green (and soggy) earth did I believe him? I will say that he did run around and play with Duke - a lot for the first few days. Andrew even played with Duke.
But guess who Duke slept with at night? Us. Why? "Mom - Duke HAS to sleep with you - he kept me up alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll night barking and whining!" (picture it with slumped shoulders, hands dragging down to the floor, and exasperated and annoyed voice)
*sigh*
I shouldn't have been surprised - I knew it would happen. Who listens to a five year old? 
Things went well for a few days . . . . .

Then it happened. Timmy came down with very sad eyes and the corners of his mouth touching his shoulders. Duke was hurt. 
That was an understatement. Duke was beyond hurt - there was no help for Duke. All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Duke back together again. 

Duke had popped. 
Whoa. Back the bus up! POPPED!?!?!
Yup.     
Duke was a balloon. Yes, a balloon. A dog balloon. No - not a balloon shaped like a dog (that would make WAY too much sense for this family). Duke was a plain old balloon that Timmy blew up and tied a ribbon around. Go ahead, shake your head. Laugh. Do the dog head tilt. We did.
We don't know why - we didn't ask because it's pointless.

Don't worry about Timmy though - his grief lasted a whopping 3.5 seconds and then he was asking me for another balloon. Then we spent a few hours trying to think of a new name. I was still pushing for George. Timmy came up with the name - Duke!

(seriously - I can't make this stuff up!)





Timmy and Duke, Sr. in happier days



Biology 101

This is a two for one! I know it's Throwback Thursday but I have a few recent comments that fit right in . . . .
When Andrew was a baby we said we wanted to make sure he knew the correct terms for his body parts. And we meant it - not like my uncle who said he would teach my cousin the right terms and not use any "silly names" . . . . who wound up making up names for everything. That still makes my mom laugh!
Anyway, some of you know that I used to volunteer (and eventually work) for AIDS Rochester. As a volunteer I would go to different schools - mainly high schools - and give talks on HIV/AIDS and staying safe. At my lovely alma mater, I started out talking in health classes. On World AIDS Day I was asked to come in and give a couple of talks - so I ended up talking to the entire school during three or four assemblies. When I worked at ARI, I was constantly talking to clients about . . . . private issues (I am trying to stay G rated). Yes, there is a point to this! The point is, I am not bothered when it comes to talking about certain things. So when it came time to teach the boys correct terms, that was a piece of cake!
BUT . . . . . when I worked at ARI, we had a funny term that was used in the staff room - Manly Unit. GO ahead, laugh. It's funny. In a job like that humor is needed. Well, we started to use it around Andrew and Timmy when they were really little - and they started to use it, too. Yes, they learned the correct term, but Manly Unit is freaking hysterical - especially coming from a two year old.
Now when it was bathtime, Rich invented a new term . . . . undercarriage. He needed to make sure things were washed and rinsed so he told them to stand up so their undercarriage could rinsed! Wellllllllll, it was fine until they learned how funny farts are. Once, someone said "Oh Nelly!" right after one of the boys let one go (and promptly peeled the paint in the kitchen walls). The term "Oh Nelly!" took off! Add all of that together and you wind up with adults rolling on the floor laughing with tears running down their faces - ultimately encouraging the innocent little two and three year olds in front of them. I believe the exact quote was, "Daddy! Did you know Oh Nelly's come from my under carriage!" . . . . . followed by the next statement (seriously - same conversation) . . ."EWWW! Timmy just rrrriiiiiippppppppppppped one!".
*sigh* It's only gotten worse!

Now for the more recent comments from Timmy . . . .
He is very in gymnastics (remember the training for London 2012?!). We enrolled him in a class at a real gymnastics training center. No, we don't think we have the next Nadia or Mary Lou - wait, wrong gender. You get what I mean! It's something that he is good at, enjoys, and needs to learn how to do things safely. Aren't I such a killjoy?
Lately he has been practicing his headstand and handstand - he is bound and determined to learn a front handspring on his own. The little snot is actually pretty close to learning it, too! One day he fell over (which has become his new hobby - he is the king of pratfalls) and started laughing. It was pretty funny so we all laughed - and then he announced that he had fallen on his ....................
Buttcushion.
I don't know - don't even try to ask. I guess it goes along with his headcap, and elbowpad - all of which are part of his body but certainly aren't part of mine!   

Is it Time Warner Cable time?

If you haven't figured it out yet, Andrew likes numbers. I know, that was the "no duh" understatement of the year. I almost wanted to warn his poor teacher - but I figured she needed to figure it out just like we did! And, yes, we LOVE his teacher. I did a happy dance (Snoopy & Woodstock style) when I opened our teacher assignment and saw her name. And, no, I am not just saying that because she is most likely reading this. We really do love her.

When it comes to telling time, Andrew is . . . . . . I don't even know the word. At bedtime he will give us a kiss and then tell us that we are having friends over in 14 hours and 43 minutes. I can't make that up. I am also embarrassed to say that it takes us a minute to figure out that he is right (not that we don't believe him because that would be like not believing that grass is green). It's not like he sits there counting on his fingers or has things figured out before we come in - he just knows. It's freaky in a cool and scary way.

When it comes to telling time, he lives by Time Warner Cable time. He rolled his eyes (shocker) at me because I set the oven clock to one minute BEHIND TWC time. What - me do things to annoy my children? Nah. *cough* Timmy has joined the love of TWC time, too. He actually asked Jill and Bob if their clock was set to TWC. We should get residuals from TWC.

Needless to say, learning how to tell time at school was boring for him. Not that we blame his teacher - it's an important thing to know and she needs to make sure the class learns it. She didn't know Rainman Jr was in her class! I knew it would be interesting when I saw the classroom clock labeled with '10 after', 'quarter after', 'half past' . . . . . I couldn't wait for the telling time lesson! Again, I could have warned his teacher but why save her when we had to learn the hard way? Besides, she needs someone to talk about at home! I am totally fine with Andrew being "that kid" . . . . he is entertaining and unique. (I keep telling myself that those are good things)  

We didn't have to wait long. The lesson came in the first full week of school. I will say that we (thankfully) have a son that is VERY respectful to his teachers and would not let on how utterly bored he was. That being said, telling Timmy and Rich about it at home was a slightly different story . . . .

Rich: "Andrew, how was school?"

Andrew: "We learned about clocks." (said in slight disgust)

Timmy: "DUDE! You already know about clocks!" (total shock in his voice - mixed with a tinge of pity)

Andrew: "Well, apparently my teacher didn't realize that." (total deadpan with emphasis on the word apparently and dripping with sarcasm)

*sigh*

It's going to be a long year for his teacher. And like it isn't bad enough having Andrew in class . . . Nick and Spencer are in his class (again - don't these people ever learn!?!) AND this poor woman gets to see me more than she probably would like - we are on a committee together and I volunteer a lot. Lucky her! Don't worry - we give good gifts!

Sunday happenings . . . . continued.

I knew I would have more to add . . . . I know, I always do! (shut up, Chris)

Yesterday afternoon we were planning on trying to tie-dye peace signs on shirts ('cause that is how we hippies roll). 'Trying' would be the operative word. In fact, it took the two of us - both reasonably intelligent people - 45 minutes to figure it out. And that was WITH a video tutorial. Not mentioning names (but it rhymes with Rich), someone had been folding the shirts wrong. Oh yeah - there was also the minor fact that it's easier to do when the shirt is already wet - which makes using the water soluble fabric marking pen difficult to work with. Just sayin'. We FINALLY got it figured out - then there was no stopping us! We did five peace sign shirts, a pair of pillow cases (we had LOTS of extra orange dye left), and an extra shirt for Andrew.  Not to mention the tie-dying (camo!) we did on Saturday night with our closeted hippie friends.
Obviously, we like to tie-dye. Not that the haphazard designs we have been doing aren't cool, but there is much more to the tie-dye world! We are only just getting our feet wet! Well, actually it's more getting our hands wet but that isn't the point. The point is, we need to learn more.
I am kind of thinking that Michael's doesn't have too many classes on how to tie dye. And considering we live in Rochester and not Hippie meccas like Austin, Texas or Portland, Oregon . . . . . I need a book. Yes, hippies read. So I said to Rich, "Innocent enough, right? What could go wrong with that comment?
Andrew could go wrong with that.
He thought I said, "We really should get a book about patterns for tie dye SHOES" and started chanting .....
"Tie dye shoes! Tie dye shoes! Tie dye shoes!"
Seriously.

Did it end there? Of course not - otherwise I wouldn't have this silly blog!
At dinner Timmy decided that his chicken tenders were FINALLY cool enough to eat. And by cool, I mean stone cold - I have no idea why we bother cooking things for him. We, of course, were 3/4 done with our dinner so we have plenty of time to talk to each other. PLENTY of time. As a side note, we will be holding Tim and Sofia's wedding reception soon. They eat at the same pace and we want to live long enough to make it through the festivities - and we want grandchildren before we are 80.
Back to Timmy's fine dining . . . . so he starts to eat but realizes that he doesn't have ranch. The horror! Neither of my kids can have a meal without ranch of ketchup (usually both). When they saw their lovely uncle empty a bag of potato chips into a bowl, douse it with ketchup, and eat it like cereal their eyes lit up. I, on the other hand, wanted to kill my parent's youngest child. (like how I did that - deflected all genetic factors right to my mom and dad!)
Timmy also has the habit of not watching what he is doing. That may come as a shock to some of you, but really - it's true! He wasn't watching the ranch come out of the bottle and almost ended up with a lake of ranch on his plate - all for a whopping four chicken tenders. Rich "yelled" at him and told him to start paying more attention. While Rich was talking to him, Timmy was laughing. Another shocker, I know. So Rich asked him to stop laughing so he could listen to what was being said.
Big mistake - remember, you need to bring your A game with these kids. All.of.the.time.
"But dad! My mouth can't stop smiling!"
And that folks was the end of that "lecture". I couldn't even look at Rich - I had my head on the table to hide the tears of laughter that we literally rolling down my cheeks.

Maybe I should install those video cameras . . . . just to really prove that this is my life.