Enjoyable

Things I enjoy about one-year-olds:
1. The way they think everything is the COOLEST THING EVER. I'm pretty sure that about 85% of the time, Weston's internal dialogue is something like this: "Whoa! There's water! Coming out of the faucet! And I'm touching it! Awwwesommme!"
2. The way they do something that they think is the coolest thing ever and then turn back and grin at you with their whole face. If an adult grinned like that, they'd be carted off to the psych ward, but one-year-olds not only pull it off, but look adorable doing it.
3. The way they hide behind you if they're faced with something they find distressing. The other day, Weston encountered a man with facial hair (which is apparently terrifying to him...never mind that HIS OWN FATHER has facial hair) and proceeded to RUN back to me, duck behind my legs, and squeeze his eyes closed.
4. The way they assume that if they can't see you, then you must not be able to see them either. So when you're playing hide-and-seek, instead of actually hiding, they just cover up their eyes and expect you to act all shocked, like, "Hey, where did that baby GO? He was JUST HERE and now he's GONE!," all the while ignoring the fact that the baby is sitting right. there.
5. The fact that no matter what's wrong, it can be fixed by putting on their shoes. Hungry? Let's put on your shoes. Tired? Shoes. Fell on the concrete and scratched up your knees, hands, and face? Wash it off and then? Shoes.

Things I enjoy about three-year-olds:
1. The way they try to use grown people words without actually understanding what they mean. The other day, Luke said something about how he is an "avid explorer" and when I asked him what made him an avid explorer, he said it was because he liked to wear cozy pajamas.
2. The way they try to use grown people words and get it right, but still say it in this little, high-pitched voice that makes all things sound humorous. Luke earned a, "Holy cow, you're adorable," from me today just for saying, "So basically, Weston thinks these sunglasses are his, but they're actually mine."
3. The way they can spend all day pretending to be a crab, but if you try to tell them that you're a bear, they're suddenly all, "No, you're MAMA. Not a mama bear, a mama person. Remember that, okay?"
4. The way they will. not. play along when you're trying to play hide-and-seek with the baby. In the midst of your "Oh, wherever could the baby be," routine, a three-year-old will come up to you, look at you like you've lost your mind, and say, "Look here, Mama. This is the baby. See this person right here? The one with his eyes closed? That's called the baby. Can you say baby?" (I'm not even paraphrasing that...he really did say that to me today.)
5. The way "But I want to," can be an answer to all things. Apparently, the rules of time and space don't matter if you "want" to do something. If someone tells you it's too late to go to the playground? "But I want to!" If someone tells you it is not possible to play in the snow because there is currently no snow available to be played in? "But I want to!" If someone tells you that you cannot travel to Pluto to see for yourself whether it's a planet? "But I want to!"

Luke's Words

And since I wrote yesterday about stuff Weston says, here's some stuff Luke has been saying:


The other day, while we were driving to a friend's house, he was ruminating about the size of his bed: I have a big bunk bed. A really, really, REALLY big bunk bed. So we could have lots of babies and they could all roll up into little balls and stick their feet up in their air and fit on my bed because it's so big. A lot of them could fit...maybe sixteen or eighteen or eleventeen. So can we do that?


Luke: Shouldn't we go somewhere?
Me: Like where?
Luke: Somewhere fun.
Me: Like...the park?
Luke: That's not what I was thinking about.
Me: Ok, what were you thinking about?
Luke: I was thinking, maybe, about Australia.


Apparently, three-year-olds do well with forced choices. As in, you say, "Hey, kid, you get to choose between A or B," and they're supposed to be so drunk with power that they forget that in the real world, there are actually choices A-Z and then some. I'd like to see who this actually works for because it surely does not work in our house.
Luke: I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.
Me: Oh, we're all out of peanut butter.
Luke: But I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.
Me: Yes, you were really hoping for a peanut butter and jelly and we're out. How disappointing. Would you like turkey or cheese?
Luke: Peanut butter and jelly.
Me: We don't have peanut butter and jelly. We have turkey or cheese. Which would you prefer?
Luke: I would prefer a peanut butter and jelly.
Me: We do not have peanut butter.
Luke: We have a car, which can drive us to Food Lion, where they have peanut butter.


Me: Let's stop at Starbucks on our way to the park.
Luke: Ok. I'm really hungry.
Me: Of course you are.
Luke: The only thing I'm hungry for is pumpkin bread.
Me: Yes, fine, I can get you pumpkin bread.
Luke: Weston says he's hungry, too.
Me: You could share some of your bread with him.
Luke: Hm, that's an idea. Or another idea is that you could buy TWO pumpkin breads. That's a better plan, don't you think?

Weston's Words

See, I said I didn't know when I'd post next and here I am, back already.  Over the past few weeks, Weston has begun to seem more like a toddler than a baby and that has been partly because he talks. Well. That might be overstating things a bit. How about this: he communicates.

• Mama: I would like to say this is in reference to me, but really, it just means "Person that I want." Usually, that is aimed at me, but it is also frequently aimed at McMoose, Luke, or someone who has food that he wants to share.
• Ball: by far, his favorite object. He throws them, kicks them, and gets very angry if you try to take them away from him.
• Boom: favorite game: throwing something (hard) across the room and then laughing and yelling "Boom!" as it crashes.
• Bop: another favorite game: walking around hitting furniture, the pets, and his brother and parents as he yells, "Bop!"
• There it is! This is said in reference to himself while playing peek-a-boo and in reference to whatever object we ask him to find.
• Mumu: nose.
• Ma: more. Also milk.
• Da: dog.
• Ahf: dog/woof.
• Ba: water.
• Bam: banana.
• Uh-oh.
• Mrow: cat.
• Bye-bye: Used for "hi," "bye," and "good-night." Also sometimes used for "all done."
• Ah-dah: All done. He says the words, but has no understanding of the concept, because he will frequently say he's all done with a meal and then fuss at me when I remove him from the table.
• Moo: cow.
• That: Tell me about/take me to/hand me that interesting thing.
• Mmm that: I want to eat that.
• Mmmmm! Yummy/Thanks for sharing your food with me.

Letting Go

McMoose pointed out that I’m way behind on blog posts and yes, clearly, that is true. His work schedule has gotten much busier, as a result of which my life schedule has gotten more insane. At some point during what turned out to be a 12 day stretch of McMoose working every single day, I wrote a mathematical equation to express the level of crazy in the house. Thought about posting it here. Discarded the idea because…dude. Taking the time just to formulate and WRITE OUT the equation put me behind in my schedule. Taking the time to turn on the computer, wait for it to go through its usual antics, type it all out in Blogger and then post it? I would’ve been backlogged for days. One of the kids would’ve probably set the house on fire. The dog might have run away. THE WORLD MIGHT HAVE ENDED.

(And that right there? That last paragraph? Even without the equation, I’d say that last paragraph gives you a pretty good idea of the mental states around here. Wouldn’t you?)

That's our life right now. And for a while, it was making me angry. Really, deep-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach furious because this is not a sustainable way to live. The chores go unfinished, the kids don't get their fill of McMoose, McMoose and I don't have the time to have a conversation or watch TV or get enough sleep. And then, I realized that the anger I was feeling about our schedule was spilling over into everything else. I was snapping at McMoose, yelling at Luke, and almost in tears every time Weston woke up at night. 

So for me, right now, the only way to manage this anger and frustration is to let go of my expectations. I don't expect the house to be clean. (And since I let go of that expectation, I have been able to put more energy into keeping up a clean-enough standard instead of a must-be-perfect standard and as a result, the house is cleaner than it has been in months.) I don't expect to get more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep at night. (And since I let go of that expectation, I've been feeling more rested because I've been making an effort to go to bed earlier.) I don't expect to have me-time. (And since I let go of that expectation, I've been taking more pleasure in the tiny increments of down-time I do get. 2 minutes to drink a cup of tea? I'll take it. 10 minutes to write a blog post while the kids are asleep? Yes, please.) I don't expect Luke to do everything I say. (And since letting go of that expectation, I've been able to respond to him with kindness, patience, and a listening ear, instead of always trying to outmaneuver a three-year-old, which apparently cannot be done.)

I'm not making any promises about when I'll be able to write my next post. Maybe tomorrow, maybe two months from now. I hope it won't be too long because there's so much about these days that I want to remember and this blog is the best way I have to record all of that, but we're taking it one day (one hour?) at a time.