2 Mommies and 2 Boys

My mother witnessed a Shmooism recently and turned to me saying “I certainly hope you are writing these things down.”

Well, I try. But life has been busy lately. And my blogging is suffering. But I realize that I started this blog for the sole purpose of doing just that…writing this stuff down.

I’ve already forgotten what it was he did that day that made us laugh, but I’ve tried to come up with a few things tonight that I’ve been meaning to keep in my little journal.

Here are some more Shmooisms:

Muffin Man
Saturday morning, we were a little slow getting going. Shmoo pretty much has free reign of the townhouse and he was downstairs playing while we were reading the week-by-week pregnancy book.
All of a sudden, we could hear him making his way up the stairs yelling something that sounded like “mussin ma”.
We both looked at each other confused, worried about what he had gotten into. All of a sudden, he appeared in our doorway and continued yelling excitedly “MUSSIN MAN”!
At the same time, we realized he’d found the container of corn muffins and was dancing in the bedroom saying “Muffin Man” over and over again. Absolutely adorable.

Move
Tonight, we were at Five.Guys (awesome burgers) and we got up to refill our soda. An older couple was at the fountain machine filling up their drinks and the Shmoo ran up behind them with his empty cup.
He stopped a few feet behind them and spread his arms wide with a “clear the way” move and said “MOVE OUT WAY, MOVE OUT WAY!”
We tried to explain to him that he had to wait his turn but I think he ignored us because we were pretty much laughing our asses off.

2 and ½
Saturday we attended a friend’s BBQ. A few people started asking how old Shmoo was. He usually says “TWO” and holds up 2 fingers. Now, all of a sudden (not sure where he got this), he turns to the person all serious and says “Two and a Half” (which sounds more like “Two and hassss”) while trying to do something with his fingers that represents 2 plus something more.

“My Belly”
We’ve been telling Shmoo that he is going to have a baby brother. (He still says “no baby brudda”). But I’ve told him that the baby is in Mommy’s belly.
The other day, our neighborhood group was outside and a bunch of us mommies were talking. Another mom is pregnant, due a few weeks before me. She also has a son the same age as Shmoo. We were discussing how they handled the “baby is coming” thing.
I turned and asked Shmoo where the baby was. He looked at me, then looked down, lifted his shirt and said “in MY belly!”

Why
The “why” thing is getting old already. He asks “why” about everything. We are trying to be patient and come up with explanations other than Lo’s mother’s response (“Y is a crooked letter”). But it’s definitely draining.
What really cracks me up is that he can ask “why?” 10 times and is never satisfied with a response. When you ask him “Why?”, he just shrugs and says “Cuz.”

Left and Right
On another note, I don’t know where he learned this, but he knows his right and left. I keep quizzing him when putting his shoes on. I ask which is left and which is right. He hasn’t gotten it wrong yet after 40 or so quizzes.

No. Me Do.
Another thing about the Shmoo is his growing insistence on doing everything himself. He’s been doing this for a while. If you open the door for him and he wanted to, he will close it and make you wait so he can open it himself. If you buckle the car seat or put his shoes on for him, he will undo it and then do it himself. Sometimes, I entertain him and let him do it. Other times I warn him that we don’t have time and I’ll do it. He then cries like I’ve taken away his favorite thing to do ever. It’s a lesson in patience for us and a lesson in giving a little for him. I’m not sure who is winning in the learning department.

Drew’s House
He always knows when we’re close to home. In addition to being a back seat driver by telling me when I should stop for a “red light! stop! red light!” and when I should go “green. go. green,” he also tells me where to turn.
As we pull into the ghetto-hood, he yells out “turn. turn. My house!” I then ask him “who’s house?” and he yells “Drew’s house.” If I dare say, “is it mommy’s house?” he will adamantly shake his head and say “no mommy house, Drew house!”

More to come later, I’m sure. After I get through the next few days of work hell, I will document more of our pregnant Holly and vibrant 2 yr old stories.