Three Year Olds

Are great. I know. I have one.

Latest phrases (and, no, I don't know where some of these come from):
After picking up the digital camera and pointing it at Dave "Hey, Daddy! It's SHOWTIME!"
Seeing his new swingset (still in the box) "Daddy, get tools - put it together!"
Walking outside and seeing his swingset all put together "Oh my goodness! What's going on here?!?"
One of my favorites "You wait here mommy, I'll be RIGHT BACK"

Other fun things that he does (please note sarcasm):
-Wipes his hands in his hair. Even if he has a napkin or two. The hair is far superior when it comes to wiping off ketchup, pudding, etc.
-Making what I call the "blowfish" face when he takes a particularly large drink of milk, juice or water. And when I tell him to "swallow it...now" he laughs. Which then makes the milk etc. spill down his face and onto his shirt. Which then means we have to change the shirt RIGHT NOW. NOW. I MEAN NOW. Because having a wet shirt (or shorts) is akin to having a hot poker rammed up your nose (or at least that's the way he freaks out about it - you would think that the milk had turned to acid).

He can also ride his bike now - thanks to some help from dad, he has figured out the whole concept of using the pedals and no longer pushes his bike along like Fred Flintstone. He's also fond of jumping. Off of steps, his bed, any ledge he can find...it certainly keeps us on our toes.

Three year olds are great. Except for the potty training thing. But we're working on that (so quit asking mom, OK?)

Help if you can

http://www.forkatessake.org/

I don't know these people. You probably don't know these people either. But they need your help. Please do what you can, even if it is just saying a prayer for their family.

Kiss your kids, hug your loved ones and count your blessings.

Thank you.

Does this gun go with this outfit?

Much like the wild, wild west of yore, many Georgians carry guns openly on their hips. Usually the Georgian is a "security guard" at a restaurant or casino. But it's disconcerting, to say the least, to sit down for dinner at an outdoor cafe and have men with guns tucked into their belts strolling around. One of our favorite restaurants is a popular spot with expatriates and is owned by an American. She has 2 to 3 armed guards outside of her business at all times. Does it make me feel safer? I guess. Is it necessary? I honestly don't know. And honestly don't want to find out. I also find it interesting that I've only seen men with guns, but that doesn't necessarily mean the ladies aren't packing heat as well.

In another case of guns and dinner, we went to a great little Italian place for dinner the other night. It was our first time there and we went because we saw a banner hanging up in town that said "All you can drink free beer Thursday". So, I guess it's safe to say that we didn't go for the food as much for the free beer (not that I had any, but Dave and some of his buddies from work had quite a few). The food, though, was outstanding, really the best Italian food that I have had in Tbilisi. But I almost choked on my bruschetta when, out of nowhere, 2 police officers came rushing into the restaurant with guns drawn. And when I say guns drawn, I'm not talking a little handgun. Nope. One of the police officers had an AK-47 and he was, as they say in the movies, "locked and loaded". I was ready to grab my child and dive under the table, but no one else in the restaurant even looked remotely interested. Not the waiters. Not the other Georgian patrons. Not even our American dinner companions. Everybody just seemed to ignore them. They talked to one of the waiters for a few minutes and one of the officers even got a glass of water and drank it. Then they left. Who knows what they really wanted - I can't see the need for a glass of water being so great that you have to brandish an AK-47.

I wasn't even going to blog about the gun culture here in Tbilisi or about our experience at the Italian place (because I know my mother and mother-in-law will probably freak out and worry - but it's ok moms....we're fine. Really.) but David has been bugging me to post about it. So, I hope you are happy Dave. Here's your gun post. You get to answer the phone when your mom calls.

Stuff!

If you could see me, you would see that I am doing a happy dance. Why am I so happy? WE HAVE STUFF! Stuff we have not seen in a year. Stuff I had forgotten about. Lovely, lovely STUFF.

Almost 1 year ago we sold our house in Florida and began our adventure. We closed on the house on the 25th of June, but did not need to be in D.C. until September. So what were we to do? We packed up the majority of our stuff and put it in storage. We rented a furnished condo on the beach and enjoyed our last few weeks in the sun.

When it came time to move, the moving company came and packed up our stuff out of the storage facility where it had resided for 2 months. We kept a small portion of our stuff to take with us in the car; clothes, a few books for the child, toys. A bigger portion of our stuff was placed in air freight containers that would arrive in D.C. and be delivered to our "home" there. But the biggest portion of our stuff went into another storage facility, not to be seen again until we were posted overseas.

Well, it arrived. As the movers were unpacking the large sea crates, I kept squealing like a little girl. "Ooooh, I had forgotten about that!" or "Ooooooh, wait until Blaine sees this!". I'm pretty sure the nice Georgian men who were working their butts off unpacking all of our stuff wished I would shut up. But I couldn't help it. I was giddy about my stuff. Giddy I tell you!

I have my Kitchen Aid Mixer. I have Blaine's toy box. I have so many towels (we had been rotating 4 towels - 2 green and 2 white). I have clothes that I had forgotten I owned. I have my stuff back. My Georgian house is beginning to feel like home and that makes me happy.

Blaine Do It!

One of the joys of having a child is watching him grow and learn every day. It's also one of the toughest parts of being a parent. Tough because watching them learn something new also means it's something you no longer have to do for them. And slowly, incrementally, piece by piece, this is how your child becomes independent and then one day they think you are totally uncool and don't want to be seen with you and then *poof* they go to college and get married and out of nowhere you are a grandparent and dammit I'm not ready to be a grandparent yet...oh, wait. I'm getting way ahead of myself. Especially since Blaine is only 2 (well, he will be 3 in just a little over a week). And my oh my how quickly these past 3 years have flown by.

What inspired this? Blaine's latest favorite phrase. "Blaine do it". He wants to do everything by himself now. From pouring milk into his cereal to putting on his sandals, I hear 1 meeeeelllion times a day "Blaine do it". And if I try to argue I get the full indignant statement "Mommy no do it. Blaine do it!". Some things I am ok with, like the aforementioned shoes or cereal (though, I admit to hovering while he pours the milk because he can get a little overzealous). Other things, like putting on an oven mitt and wanting to take the broiler pan with the chicken on it out of the oven, well, that I have to say no to. Oh, and what a horrible Mommy I am when I say no. Awful. Evil. But I held my ground against the tiny tyrant and explained that it could hurt him because it was very hot. I don't think he much cared.

He loves to "cook". Putting his oatmeal bowl in the microwave and pushing the green button makes him happy. Stirring the batter for pancakes makes him feel fantastic. He loves to follow me around and imitate what I do. Then the next day, he just wants to do it all by himself. He loves to put the soap in the dishwasher now and push the buttons to make it start. He thinks it's a blast to get the toilet brush and scrub the toilet (of course I end up mopping up all the water that gets dripped on the floor). I figure a few more days and I can have him making beds and mopping floors - heck, he is already quite accomplished with the Swiffer.

The only thing that I would love, love, love for Blaine to do that he absolutely refuses? To use the potty. I live for the day he tells me he doesn't want a diaper and instead heads to the bathroom saying "Blaine do it".