Happy New Year (Already?)!

So a while back I finally got around to making one of those slide shows that all the cool people have on their blogs. It turned out really cute- I used our Christmas Morning photos. Well, the bleeping thing wouldn't let me save it cause the website was all screwed up, so I left it for a night and when I checked on it in the morning it was gone. So that sucked. And unfortunately as of now I'm to busy (read: lazy) to make another one. I suppose the world will wait.
Anywho, last night our neighbors set off a butt load of awesome, extremely-illegal fireworks. They invited us to participate and it rocked. I've never seen anyone set off doozies like that outside of a huge public celebration. Thousands of dollars' worth of pyrotechnics- I guess they got them from some factory for dirt cheap. While we were gathered in the cul-de-sac in front of our house, some other neighbors we don't know very well came and congregated with us to watch the show. Jesse latched on to an older woman (I think she was five), and the two walked around all over the place holding hands. Jesse would tell her what colors all the individual sparkles were, and she listened patiently, no doubt thinking Right Buddy, no duh. They clung together for a long time and finally the poor girl shouted, "Don't kiss me! Mom! He kissed me! Tell him not to kiss me!" This worries me to the point of refusing to let it sink past the outermost layer of my brain. Nope. Not ready. Probably won't give into that one for quite some time. As for now we'll call him Casanova and blame his father. I was certainly not like that until my teenage years when my hormones caught up with me.
I've been referring to Gabriel lately as Bugle Buns; I'll let you guess why. His God-given gift could shame a blow horn. At least he was born into a home that would appreciate it, that his talent might be nurtured and grow. Flatulence is more of a competition around here than an embarrassment. -To my displeasure, may I add. Actually, it's often more than displeasure. It sometimes can be downright horrific, depending on the performer. Always back to gas! How did this happen? Let us move on.
Grand. Jesse just pulled my porcelain angel off the shelf again to stand in as another action figure in the rumble that's about to go down. Why do we even have toys? Seriously...
Matt and J (and sometimes Gabe) have been going shooting a lot in the field behind our house. J's uncle Jared bought him his own BB gun for his first Christmas. He was five months old. Anyway, he and Matt go out back with that and Matt's cheap little pellet gun he got to kill the "bad birds" that come around. I haven't pushed him much on his definition of bad birds, but he knows what I think about killing something that he isn't going to eat, unless it's a real menace. Anyway, Jesse gets to shoot his own gun and likes to aim it himself. He knows all the rules about where to point it, and he can't shoot until Matt pumps it for him, but it makes him feel very grown up and important. J has successfully hit two birds all by himself. That gun can't even come close to killing them, but I'm sure it leaves some nasty little bruises. I should know. Before Jesse was old enough to use the gun, it was known as Matt's "Inside gun" and he would shoot me in the hiney while I washed dishes. Stinker, it really stung. But it was still funny. And he always let me shoot him back if I wanted to. I guess this really wouldn't be considered normal behavior for the average family, but it was all done in good fun. And despite my efforts to resist, the manness does rub off on me from time to time and I learn to enjoy psycho, weird things like that- (though not nearly as much as Matt would like).
There have been a few changes around our place. Gabe's found his groove and likes to dance at every opportunity. He also learned how to spin in circles till he's dizzy. And Jesse has entered the tattling phase with gusto. He started out telling on his Dad. "Mom, Dad push me! Mom, Dad say no get on table! Mama, Dad being mean!" Jes somehow forgets to mention that Matt had pushed him back onto the bed when he was falling off, and Dad said not to get on the table cause it's not a place for climbing, and Dad's "being mean" by making Jesse get back before opening the hot oven. It makes me angry when he tattles like that, because I think he should be very clear on the fact that Matt and I play for the same team. It's frustrating to have to explain over and over again that if Daddy's being mean, Jesse probably deserves it and furthermore, I don't care. I trust that Matt has a good reason. I'll support him every time. Still, Jesse won't relent. And boy, he is bossy! Apparently my singing annoys him cause he's always telling me, "No singin' Mama. No singin'. No, no! That's bad. No singin'." I'm offended by this in more ways than one, and I'm not quite sure how to respond. My parents made interactions like these look so easy when I was a kid. I never dreamed that as a mother I'd become so clueless and bewildered by such a simple exchange. Why am I so easily confused and manipulated by a toddler? And where did he gain these powers? Could I get some of that? In addition to these new skills, for the past couple of months Jesse has shown an ever increasing aptitude for lying. Fortunately there's not anything serious enough in his life right now that would be a horribly big deal to lie about. But I know before long this is bound to become an issue. How do you know when you're getting through to a child when you're trying to teach right from wrong? How do you make them care? Advice is completely warranted here, so by all means, spew forth. It's really not often a problem cause he's a very good kid, but Matt and I have yet to find any sort of punishment that gets to him. With the new world of back-talking and blatant disobeying just opening it's doors to him, it would be really great to have some disciplinary method he responded to. We tried "counting" with him, but he doesn't care because the timeout at number three is not a problem in his mind. I can't stand to hit him, and I'm not completely sold that it really delivers the message anyway, so that's not the right fit here. By all means, if anyone has a creative idea to share- no matter how crazy it may seem, please bring it on! We're desperate. My mother tells me that my dad's mom never found an effective method for my dad- ever. Wonderful. Way to trample on my hope. But I'm not entirely squashed, not yet anyway, so throw your thoughts our way and let's see if we can salvage some respect. Maybe he can be tamed.
I just went to change Gabey's diaper and, of course, there was an almond in the wipey warmer. What, don't you keep almonds with your wipes?
Happy new year. May the coming months be as strange for you as they will certainly will be for us.