Merry Christmas!

Clouds and Linings

The cloud:

• The stomach bug hit all of us this weekend and for some inexplicable reason, it's hitting me again. 
• The kids have the cold from hell, so Weston was up every 30 minutes last night, screaming about the fact that he had boogies and that those boogies were on his pillow and his pajamas and MY HAIR. 
• Luke's preschool class is putting on what promises to be the cutest version of the Nutcracker ever tomorrow, and I can't go because of the resurgence of the Stomach Bug That Wouldn't Die. 
• I had told a friend that I would keep her kid tomorrow so that he and Luke would get to play before we all parted ways for the holidays and now that I'm sick again, I had to cancel. 
• I made a commitment to someone to help them tonight and obviously, I had to cancel that, too.
• McMoose's project at work was supposed to be done a week and a half ago and it has dragged on and on and ON, so we haven't been able to get done any of things on my pre-travel list.
• With the busy schedule and the sicknesses, we haven't had time to order our Christmas cards. I finally spent 4 hours navigating various awful websites last night and ordered some at Target that I was supposed to be able to pick up today, except the brand new printer at our local Target broke so they cancelled our order.
• And the icing on the top of the worst cake ever is that the pattern I'm knitting has problems that I didn't catch in time, so now I have to unravel several inches of intricate work so I can fix it.

The silver:

• I am grateful that we're usually healthy and that the past few days have been an aberration rather than our normal.
• The half-hourly wakings reminded me of what it was like to have a new baby in the house and I am grateful that my kids are two and four--and sleeping solidly through the night, except on rare occasions!
• I am grateful that McMoose had already arranged to take the morning off tomorrow for the Nutcracker, so at least one of Luke's parents will be there. And I'm grateful for the camcorder, which will let me see the performance, even if I don't get to experience it myself.
• I am grateful for good friends who understand when I can't follow through on commitments I've made.
• I'm grateful that one way or the other, McMoose's vacation is almost upon us!
• I am grateful for people who keep us on their Christmas card list, even when we go a year without sending any out. I'm grateful that even though no cards were made, we still have the lovely pictures that we would have used for that purpose.
• I'm grateful for the needles and the yarn and the patterns and the cozy goodness that is knitting. I'm grateful to have the time to spend on it. I'm grateful for the relaxation it brings. I'm grateful for the excitement of beginning a new project and for the peace that comes with finishing something beautiful.

Luke, On Happiness and Tigers

Luke and I are reading The Christmas Carol together. We're still at the very beginning because it's so dense that we can only make it through a couple of pages at a time, but it's led to some interesting conversations.

Me: Do you think Scrooge is a happy person?
Luke: No.
Me: What did he think should make people happy?
Luke: Having money. And I have money and I am happy.
Me: Yes, but Scrooge has way more money than you or I or Weston or Dada.
Luke: What?! And he's still not happy?
Me: That's pretty surprising to you.
Luke: Yeah!
Me: Maybe there are other things that we have that he doesn't.
Luke: Like...our house?
Me: And who lives in our house?
Luke: Me and you and Dada and Weston and Sasha and Loki.
Me: Our family. Does Scrooge have a family?
Luke: Noooo. And no friends. Well, he had one friend. The one who's dead.
Me: Marley.
Luke: Yeah, but he's dead now. Is Scrooge unhappy because he's dead?
Me: What do you think?
Luke: If he only had one friend and the friend died, I think that would make him sad. And if he wanted to have a family and he didn't, that would make him sad. Or if he didn't want to have money, but he had a lot of it, that would make him not happy, too.
Me: So is happiness about having what you want?
Luke: Yeah. I'm happy with a toy dragon. And you're happy with knitting. And Weston...is happy when destroying my things, mostly.

Luke, stopping me mid-sentence as I read to him: What does "bloodthirsty" mean?
Me: Um...it means someone who likes to do violent things and hurt or kill people.
Luke: A tiger is not bloodthirsty.
Me: It's not?
Luke: No, because a tiger doesn't want to hurt anyone or be violent. It just wants to eat. And it likes to eat any animal and person that it sees because it just thinks they're all food. It's just what a tiger does.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Afternoon coffee. Knitting. Keeping company with a four-year-old in a cape, who is humming quietly as he sews buttons onto a piece of felt.

Innocent

Luke has a friend spending the night over and in preparation, I told him that he should not talk about anything scary while his friend was over. Of course, this is how my child translated that request...

Other Boy at bedtime: What's that sound?
Me: Just a car passing outside.
Other Boy, 10 seconds later: What's that sound?
Me: The sound of Luke's moving picture. Doesn't it sound like a waterfall?
Other Boy: Yes. But what's that quacking?
Me, quite unable to hear any quacking: Hmm...maybe it's a duck that's swimming in the lake by the waterfall.
*A low growl comes from the top bunk*
Other Boy: WHAT'S THAT SOUND?!?!
Me: That's just Luke being silly. Luke. Stop. Growling.
Luke: *Growl* That's not me growling. *Growl* That's the tiger near the waterfall. *Growl* You know, he comes out of the picture sometimes at night.
Other Boy: I AM NOT SLEEPING IN HERE!!!!

Chit-Chattin'

Luke has been all about root words lately and is constantly asking about what different word components mean. Most of the time, my answer is something like, "Um...I'm pretty sure 'train' just means train," but every once in a while, we get to have a conversation like this:

Luke: What's another word that means "four?"
Me: Quad.
Luke: Oh! Like quadriped?
Me: Yes...like quadriped. And "ped" means foot, so what do think a quadriped is?
Luke: An animal with four feet. Like a cheetah! Or a jaguar! Or really any big cat. What's an animal with three feet called?
Me: Do you have any guesses?
Luke: Um...triped! Hahaha, that's a funny one!
Me: It does sound funny! What about a biped--do you know what that is?
Luke: A two-footed animal! And...a one-footed animal is...hm...what's another word for one? Uni? Uniped!


I was sitting with Weston for a couple of minutes before he went to bed and noticed that he had a pair of his pajama pants tucked in with his menagerie of stuffed animals in the bed.

Me: Oh, there are pajama pants in here.
Weston: There's a shirt that goes with those pajamas.
Me: A pajama shirt? Yeah...it's probably dirty.
Weston: Maybe those people taked it.
Me: What people?
Weston: The neighbors.
Me: ...You think the neighbors took your pajama shirt?
Weston: Yes.
Me: Hm...I think maybe it's just in the drawer.
Weston, after thinking about it for a minute: I think my elephant baby [ie, stuffed elephant] took it.
Me: Oh. And where do you think the elephant baby put it?
Weston: In the drawer.


Lately, both boys have been asking what their food looks like. They're always looking for answers like "tiger," "shark," and "light saber."

Weston: What does this popcorn look like?
Me, distracted by a conversation with someone else: Um, it looks like a piece of popcorn.
Weston: To me, it looks like an octopus. See? It goes, "Oct, oct, oct," and swims into my mouth.

Just Say No

A man rang the doorbell during lunch. I'm a sucker for door-to-door salespeople--I don't ever buy anything from them, but I always let them do their little spiel and ask for a card or brochure (which they never, ever have) because I always think that maybe someday, I might want whatever crazy thing they're selling. So I go to the door...

Man 1: Hi! Two things. First of all, is that truck for sale?
Me: Uhhh...no.
Man 1: Aww, man. Ok. Second thing, can I do a presentation for you?
Me: About what?
Man 1: Meat! *As he says this, a van emblazoned with pictures of steaks pulls out from behind a tree and up to the front of our house, hollywood-style.*
Me: Um. How long will this take?
Man 1: I can't give an exact number, you understand, because it's interactive and I want you to understand exactly what's happening. But if I were pressed to give a ballpark figure, I'd say about...seven minutes.
Me: Ok, then. Sure.
Man 1: Are you from New Delhi?
Me: ...No...
Man 1: Bombay?
Me: ...No...
Man 1: So then, you eat meat?
Me: Yes...
Man 1: Ok, great! I'll be right back.
*He runs to the truck and he and another man come back, each carrying a box.*
Man 1: Can I come into your house?
Me: Um...
Man 1: I just don't want your neighbors to be wondering about what we're doing.
Me, worried that "meat" was a code word for some crazy new drug: Um...I...This...is more involved than what I had in mind.
Man 2: That's ok, that's ok, we can do this right here on the porch.
Me: Great. Let's do that.
Man 2: Ok, first of all, I want to ask you: who guarantees the meat in your fridge for a full year?
Me: Hm...I'm guessing you do?
Man 2: Yes! *Hands me a list of prices* I want you to disregard everything you read on there. This box of meat is $400. If you buy the beef box, I'll give you the chicken box for free. *Goes on to describe every piece of meat in the beef and chicken boxes*
Me: Uh-huh.
Man 2: But you have to do it right now. This meat is a limited time offer. If you don't buy it, I can guarantee that we'll sell it to someone in the neighborhood. I have to move this meat, you understand?
Me: O...kay...
Man 2: Ok, tell you what, why don't you pick your two favorite cuts of steak? I'll cut you a deal, a special deal. You can't tell any of the neighbors, ok? I don't want them all to expect the same deal, but you pick your two favorite cuts, and I'll give you a deal on them.
Me: I'm not prepared to buy anything today. I really just wanted some information. Do you have a brochure or something?
Man 2: No, we don't keep brochures. Let me ask you, I have traveled all over the world, and I'm really good at guessing people's background--can I guess yours?
Me: Um. I guess?
Man 2: Awesome, awesome. You're mixed, right?
Me: ...No.
Man 2: Really? I'm usually really good at spotting that.
Me: Hm.
Man 2: So then, are you from India or something?
Me: Yes.
Man 2: Oh, see? I'm great at guessing backgrounds!
Me: Hm.
Man 2: So you're the one who cooks, right?
Me: Not usually.
Man 2: Oh, really? So then, your husband cooks? Or your partner?
Me: Yes.
Man 2: Which one? Your husband or your partner?
Me: My. Husband.
Man 2: Wow, see, those are the guys to look for! The ones who can cook! You did good, girl!
Me: *Staring in complete amazement because WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!*
Man 2:Yeah, so don't you want to surprise him with some steak tonight?
Me: ...Really not.
Man 2: Ok, ok, fair enough. But can I ask you why? Is there a specific reason? 'Cuz I really have to move this meat and I can negotiate on price.
Me: It's not the price--
Man 2: What is it, then?
Me: I just, I'm just--I'm not prepared to commit to meat today. Thanks, bye.

After I went back in the house and locked BOTH locks on the door, I realized that last sentence? Really not something I ever expected to hear myself say.

10 Things That Have Caused Weston to Scream Today

1. He asked for an orange spoon, so I gave him an orange spoon. He thinks orange means blue (or green or red or yellow or really anything other than orange,) so he accused me of giving him the wrong color.

2. He wanted the spoon that Luke was using. The problem was that Luke was using it at the moment. When Luke finished using it, we offered it to him. Proceed to item 3.

3. He wanted there to be no places where the inner surface of the bowl showed through. But he had already taken a couple of bites of oatmeal, so in those places, the bowl showed through. He was so mad, he told Luke to take the spoon back because he didn't want it as he wasn't going to eat when the bowl was showing through.

4. Luke took the spoon back.

5. He wanted me to pick him up. I was in the shower.

6. He wanted a Lara bar. We were out of Lara bars.

7. He wanted a "strawberry." All we had were raspberries and blueberries. He screamed that he had just seen the strawberries in the fridge. He took me over and pointed to the raspberries. "Oh, these strawberries," I said, not wanting to get involved in a discussion about their true name, "Sure, you can have some of these." He took one bite, and then said he didn't want strawberries--he wanted raspberries.

8. He broke some of Luke's Lego creations and Luke told him to stop.

9. I insisted that if he wanted something for his chapped lips, he could use chap-stick, but not deodorant.

10. I called him, "Weston" and he wanted to be called "Baby-tiger-daniel-baby-tiger-neighbor-meow-meow-turtle-mouse-soup."

I suppose this post could also have been called "10 Reasons Naptime Began Early Today."

Conversations with Weston

McMoose: Let's not slide the couch apart. It's not safe. You might fall...
Weston: I might fall and ping over.
Mc: I don't want you to ping over. Let's be safe...
Weston: I ping over!
Mc: No pinging over. Sit on the couch...
W: Ping over!

Me, in a calm tone: West, I don't want you walking around the house with your shoes on. Sit here and take off your shoes before you walk around.
Weston: Ohhhhhh, I saaaaaadddd! I sad because you yelled at me and said, 'No, no, no!"
Me, still in a calm tone: I'm not yelling at you--
W: Ohhhhh, I so saaaaaaddd!!! Mama is yelling at Baby Weston! Ohhhhhh!

Me: Weston, do not swing that cord around like that. It has a hard part at the end and it'll hurt Luke if you hit him with it.
Weston, lying his entire body on the ground: I AM DYYYYYYYIIIIIINNNNNGGGG!!!!

Square Peg, Round Hole

I got to attend my first parent-teacher conference today. It was fun. They informed me that Luke could to all the things on their evaluation and was doing very well. On the walk back to the car, I took a quick glance at the evaluation and it made me smile. There were some sections about social and group behaviour (which I did find interesting because I don't generally get to see that side of him) and some things about cognitive and verbal abilities (which are the ones that made me smile.) Here are some of the things in those sections that I found particularly amusing--my thoughts are in parenthesis:

-May name 18-20 uppercase letters. (Yes, he can. And lowercase. And cursive. And probably calligraphy, though I haven't tried that yet.)
-Recognizes some printed words. (Such as Australopithecus.)
-Able to count to 30. (Also informed me yesterday that 1000x1000=1000000.)
-Can state first and last name. (When I ask him to do this, it leads to him stating the first and last names of everyone else in our family, as well as everyone in his best friend's family. And then, he tells me everyone's birthday, as well as our address, which he recites as "house number, street name, city, state, country, continent, planet." Inevitably, this leads to a recitation of the other continents and planets. I try not to ask the question unless we have 20 minutes to spare.)
-Prints own name. (Last weekend, he wrote, "I put down my cat and I picked up my other cat. I went out the door. I said Boo! I saw a ssssnake. It hissed at me. I marched." A few months ago, he started writing his name in cursive, but when preschool started back up, he stopped doing that, presumably because they're focusing on printing.)

After the conference, I asked him how he was enjoying school. He said he loves it. Then, I asked him what he learned there. His reply: "I don't learn things at school. My teacher can never trick me. I already know all the school things. I can only learn things at home and from my books." Oh, dear. This is going to be a crazy ride.

Pumpkin Patch

Last weekend, we went to a pumpkin patch. Or at least, I expected a pumpkin patch. Instead, we found some magical land of amazement. There was so much to do that the two hours that we had allotted were not nearly enough. I think we could easily have spent all day here and not run out of things to do.

He said he needed a picture with the cow. (That sweater? I made it with the intention of having it fit Luke last winter. Clearly, that was a big fail. I guess this is one of the benefits of having two kids who are fairly close in age...you can make stuff for the older one and if it's too small, it'll still fit the younger one.)

There was a giant field with little pumpkins scattered all over it, presumably so the kids could run among them and do with them as they would. So of course, pumpkins had to be picked up...

...and pumpkins HAD to be flung around.

This was the corn crib. Like a sand box, but with corn. By far, their favorite thing. We were still finding corn kernels in their clothes and shoes the next morning.

"It's sand! It's corn-sand!!"

Fall Festivities

Last week, Luke's preschool held their annual fall get-together and it was quite the event. Other Boy came with us and McMoose took the day off so he could join us as well--and thank goodness he did because even with two adults, we had our hands full with three little guys!

Every time I get the camera out, he makes me take a picture of him first.

As usual, Luke wanted his face painted like a superhero. His current favorite is Batman and this is what the face painter came up with. He kept his "mask" on all day.

I asked them to make their best superhero faces. This is what happened next.

All fall picnics should involve pumpkin decorating, right?

In addition to the pumpkin decorating, there was shirt making, spooky hand creating, bobbing for eyeballs, and a nature walk...but at some point, I put the camera back in the bag and forgot all about it. Oops.

Cosmic Balance

Tuesdays are usually our stay at home days, but today, we made plans with friends, so we had to get up and get moving.

The first time I went into Luke's room, he was awake and reading, so I told him to please get dressed. I took a shower. I got dressed. McMoose got Weston dressed. I went back into Luke's room and found him...naked and reading. Get. Dressed. Now. We need to leave soon, I told him.

Came downstairs and made breakfast and five minutes later, I was happily surprised to see two fully dressed children coming down the stairs. Two fully dressed children sat down to eat yogurt and a banana, which resulted in one fully dressed child needing to be re-dressed because yogurt. And a banana. What was I even thinking?!

They yelled and fussed and fought while I was making last minute preparations. (Water bottle? Check. Extra clothes for kids? Check. Jackets? Check. Car potty clean and ready to go? Check.) Told Luke to put on his shoes and he moaned about having to tie them. Told Weston to come to me so I could put on his shoes and he took his socks off and threw them at my head and then threw himself on the floor and had a massive meltdown (for which I still do not understand the reason.) Wrangled everyone and everything into the car and breathed a sigh of relief--we'd only be 10 minutes late, which is pretty miraculous.

We enjoyed the park. Listened to a lady talk about hawks. Sat down to have a snack. Weston sat on my lap. Soon, my lap felt strangely warm. Did you pee on me, I asked? Told him to stand up, but there's no wet spot. Ok, you can sit back down. Sorry for the false accusation.

7 seconds later, I feel the wetness. Sigh. I brought extra clothes for the kids, but never before have I needed extra clothes for myself. Next time, I'll know better. Off we go to the car, waving good-bye to the train (that we hadn't gotten to ride) and the cafe (where we hadn't gotten to eat.) I open the trunk, which is full of extra clothes and jackets and hats, have Weston stand in it, and pull down his underwear, fully expecting pee. Of course, it was poop. Which flung itself all over the trunk. All over the clean clothes. The jackets. The umbrella. My hands. And as I dug frantically through the backpack with my clean hand, I came to the horrifying realization that we were out of baby wipes.

We have many calm, peaceful, joy-filled days. And then, we have days like today to maintain the balance.

Numbers

3: The number of children currently in my home.
2: The number of children who are happily and cooperatively playing upstairs, away from me, without any of the issues that would have cropped up and required my intervention just a couple of months ago.
1: The number of children who are being kept downstairs and grumbling periodically about that fact.
14: The number of times I've repeated some variation of the phrase, "You are so disappointed about having to stay downstairs while the big boys are upstairs. You really wish you could be up there with them. We're staying down here anyway."
17: The number of odd chores I've sent him on to distract him. "Can you bring me the broom?" "Can you make me some pretend soup with mushrooms and carrots?" "Can you find a dress up hat to put on Yellow Cat?" etc.
3: The number of times Yellow Cat has grumbled at us for including him in such activities.
4: The number of times I've reminded someone about the potty.
6: The number of cups of almond milk I've refilled.
28: The number of pipe cleaners that are scattered across my living room.
100: The number of times I would like to relive today, just for the simple joy of hearing the big ones giggling upstairs and cuddling the little one on my lap.

All or Nothing

While driving home after picking Luke up from preschool:

Me: Wow, look at that bus--it has all kinds of colors on it.
Luke: Well, not really. It doesn't have any kind of brown...or gray...or blue.
Me: I didn't say it had every color on it, I said it had all kinds of colors on it.
Luke: Yes, but that's wrong. It doesn't have all the different kinds of colors on it.
Me: All kinds doesn't mean every kind. It just means...a lot of colors.
Luke: All doesn't mean lots. All means all.
Me: In this case, "all kinds" means "lots of kinds of colors."

Later, towards the end of lunch:


Me: Have you eaten all the cucumber slices yet?
Luke: Yes.
Me, walking over and noticing that there are still two cucumber slices on his plate: You have not. I see two of them sitting right there.
Luke: There were eight of them and I ate six already. Six is a lot.
Me: Well, that's true, but I didn't ask if you had eaten a lot. I asked if you had eaten them all.
Luke: I thought we decided that nowadays, "all" means "a lot."

Different Strokes

The conversation that just happened here went something like this:

Me: He has been quiet for a while now. Think he's asleep?
McMoose: Maybe.
Me: You should go check on him...um...
Mc: Quietly?
Me: Yes, quietly, but what I really want to say is, "in an espionag-y fashion."
Mc: *Looks at me like I've lost my mind*
Me: Sneakily!
Mc: Covertly?
Me: Furtively!!! Furtively is a great word.
Mc: Yes, but furtively...means...*checking on google* "with a hidden motive or purpose. You want me to have a hidden motive?
Me: Yes! So here's how I do it: I slooooowly turn the handle so it doesn't make a sound. I crack the door open two centimeters. No, maybe one-and-a-half centimeters. Then, I line up my line of vision so that I can see him through the crack. Then, I wait twenty seconds--no, really, you have to count to twenty...with Mississippis. And then, if he's not moving, I open the door a tiny bit more and look at his eyes. If his eyes aren't blinking, he's asleep.
Mc: Here's how I do it. I open the door. He's not moving. I go over to the bed. He's not moving. I look to see if he's breathing. I can't tell. I go closer to see if he's breathing. I still can't tell. I put my hand on his belly to see if he's breathing. I think he is but I still can't be sure.

It's conversations like this that convince me that we really are meant to be together.

Questions

If he could give me relevant and rational answers, I would pose the following questions to West:

1. Why do you always seem to be starving? You had a snack at 7, breakfast at 8, another snack at 10, and lunch at 12:30. At each one of those, you acted like you might actually wither away and die if I didn't feed you right.that.second. I don't understand.

2. How is it possible that, eating the way you do, you haven't gained a single ounce in over four months? Where does it all go??? Do you have a pouch you keep it in? (Actually, I think he uses it all to grow his feet, nails, and hair.)

3. Why is it that you can calmly ask me for something and when I give you what you asked for, you have a screaming meltdown? Have you forgotten that you wanted it? Did your brother dare you to drive me to the brink of insanity?

4. Why is it so important that you must always get out of the car on Luke's side and not your own? Are the doors different in some way?

5. You seem to have some kind of matrix to help you decide which toys are special to you on any given day. Could you clue me into your thought process? I think that might be easier than randomly yelling that you're disappointed in me because I offered Luke a stuffed animal that you haven't acknowledged in weeks.

Success!

I knitted Luke a sweater and it actually fits!! All of my past sweater attempts have been dismal failures, so this was an exciting moment for me. I don't love the neck line on this pattern, but I do love the colors and more importantly, it's super soft and Luke loves to wear it.

What's for Lunch?

I was a picky eater as a kid and ever since I came out of that, I've taken it for granted that my kids would probably be picky eaters too. And by "picky eaters," I was expecting that they'd find a favorite food or two and then refuse to eat other things, since that was my M.O. Instead, I've ended up in some insane, alternate universe of kid-eating.

-Weston's current obsession is pickled jalapenos. I cannot make this up. When he declares that he doesn't like something, all I have to do is dip it in the "jalapeno sauce" and he'll eat it right up. The down side of this is that every time I get out the jalapenos, he sits there like a baby bird, mouth wide open, begging for another slice. ("It 'picy! I yike it!")

-Our lunches are pretty open ended most of the time and I'm willing to (help) make separate lunches for each of them. I ask them each to pick a protein, a veggie, a fruit, and a starch and they're getting pretty good at distinguishing which is which. Today, Luke ended up eating leftover grilled lamb, a slice of toast, lima beans, a banana and spinach concoction (which was apparently so delicious that I had to remove him from the kitchen to keep him from licking the blades of the blender,) and frozen spinach right out of the bag. And that right there? Is the reason I'm okay with making separate lunches. If I had to eat that, I might fall over and die.

-And in case you're curious, Weston ate leftover chicken noodle soup, hold the chicken, with some jalapenos added in. So basically, he ate a few noodles and a lot of carrots and jalapenos. And the banana spinach thing and some fake (ie, soy and rice based) cheese. He is well on his way to veganism.

My child self sneers at them in disdain. Heck, even my adult self has a more...discerning...palate. 

Pre-bedtime Insanity

So this just happened...

Weston: *makes smacking noises with his mouth*
Me: What are you eating? *Reach over, pull a cat whisker out of his mouth*
Weston: What WAS that?!
Me: It was a cat whisker. Not food.
Weston: Why?! Can I have it?
Me: No!
Weston: I want it! I want eat it! I disappointed!!!

Perfect

I woke up to a rainy day and breathed a sigh of relief. My eyes, tired of looking at sunshine, relaxed into the muted gray of the world and I slipped slowly from Sleep to Awake, pulling the cloudy softness of the day around me like an old, wooly blanket.

We headed off to school singing along to a song about making banana pancakes and playing hooky. "Ain't no need to go outside," I sang, even as we gathered up umbrellas and raincoats to do exactly that.

Last minute plans were made and broken and made once again and instead of spending the morning at home, we met some friends and played. I remembered that the cure to feeling isolated is to stop isolating yourself--a simple solution, but a difficult pattern to break.

Preschool pick-up included splashing in mud puddles, running across the lawn, balancing on wooden beams beside the sidewalk as we meandered back to the car, none of us particularly inclined to get out of the slight drizzle. Our voices stayed low as we related to each other the stories of our day.

A lazy lunchtime, interrupted by the reading of books and comparing of heights. They were quite surprised to find that I'm still the tallest of the bunch.  A quiet time of rest, when we all got to do the things that renew us--knit, read, nap. When I tried to go into Luke's room at the end of two hours, he told me in no uncertain terms that he was still enjoying his "peaceful quiet time." Do you want me to stay and read with you, I asked. "I'm happy reading this book by myself. I know where I am in this book. I'm just waiting for you to leave before I start reading again." Right. Off I go then, back to my knitting, my rocking, my writing.

Ingredients

As an infant, Weston had no love for pacifiers, but now, he's obsessed with them when he finds them around. He carries them around, sticks them in his mouth (usually upside down) and refuses to give them up for 20 minutes or so, until the next obsession strikes. This morning, he found one in the car and popped it into his mouth before I had any idea what he was doing.

Me: Oh, yuck, Weston! I have no idea how long that was in here.
Weston: It not yuck. It pasta-fire.
Me: Pacifier.
Weston. Pasta-fire. It got things inside.
Me: What kinds of things?
Weston: Some fire. Some pasta. It yummy!

Blech.

Comparing Carrots and Apples

Luke wants a sticker chart. You know, one of those things that lists out the kids' "jobs" and you put a sticker on it every time they do the task and when they get x number of stickers...something happens? So I've toyed with the idea of sticker charts in the past and just, I can't. Because (a) it would be too easy to turn it into this constant bribe/threat and (b) I can't for the life of me think of what jobs to put on there. (Note: when I say it would be too easy to turn into a bribe/threat, I mean that it would be too easy *for me* to do that. I know this is a super successful technique and lots of people use it, love it, do it in a way that feels very genuine and non-coercive to them, but my personality is such that during times of stress, I would look to the chart as an easy way to have some power over the kids. And really, any tool that I frame as a way to have power is probably not a tool that I can use in a responsible way.)

But getting beyond the vague, this-doesn't-sit-well-with-me feeling, there's the fact that I do not know what to put on this thing. I mean, if he were a few years older, I imagine I could include things like doing the dishes and vacuuming and whatever. But he's four. And he already does the things that I think he's capable of and that are important to me. He gets himself dressed. He brushes his teeth, albeit with us "checking" his work when he's done. He puts away his laundry when asked and even folds it when asked. He clears his dishes from the table after meals. He picks up his toys when asked. He puts up his shoes and his towel and puts his clothes in the hamper. He cleans up his spills and helps with whatever random cleaning project I've taken on. So do I put things on the sticker chart that he has already mastered and therefore reward him for doing things that he currently does without reward? Or do I come up with new tasks that I'm not really invested in? (By the way, typing out this paragraph has made me realize that we are not currently working on anything as far as behavior is concerned. When he does something that is dangerous or annoying or whatever, I tell him that it's dangerous or annoying or whatever and he either says "All right," and stops doing it or tries to think of ways to make it safe and/or not-annoying and if his solution sounds reasonable to me, I let him run with it. Our days are peaceful and rational. I never thought I'd see the day.)

And also, what's the carrot here? What happens when he has however many stickers we've agreed on? Do I give him money? A toy? Candy? An actual carrot? Our conversation on the subject went something like this:

Luke: I want stickers and I want to put them in a line and collect them when I do things.
Me: And then, what would happen?
Luke: When I have a whole line of them, I get money.
Me: And what would you use the money for?
Luke: I'd buy a loaf of green apples.
Me: Do you mean a bag of green apples?
Luke: Yes. I'd buy a bag of green apples. And oranges. And pears. And peaches.
Me: Lots of different kinds of fruit, huh?
Luke: Yes. And then, I could eat them whenever I was hungry.

So my kid wants a reward chart (which I don't want to make) in order to earn money (which I'm already okay with him having) in order to buy fruit (which we have in abundance and which he has near-constant access to) to eat when he is hungry (which he never is. Ever. He eats three meals and three, sometimes four, snacks a day. Eating is pretty much a state of existence around here.) And he wants me to make him this chart tonight so that he can get started on it tomorrow morning. I get the feeling that someday, he's going to be the kid who loves taking tests so he can see the smiley face sticker and the "Good job," written at the top of the paper.

Luke, on Taking Charge of Your Destiny

Luke recently mentioned that while we were at the park, 10 minutes went by really fast, but it doesn't seem as fast when we're doing less exciting things. I thought it was the perfect time to introduce the idea of idioms and told him that "Time flies when you're having fun." He interpreted it in a very literal manner, as 4-year-olds like to do, and now, whenever I say something like, "Ok, we have 10 minutes to finish eating, put on our shoes, and get in the car," he replies with, "That's a long time--just make sure you don't have any fun!" And of course, when he says that, it makes me laugh and then, when we're late (as we invariably are,) he accuses me of having too much fun and causing time to go too fast.

Today, we were discussing the merits of lemons and I told him that there's another idiom that goes, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

Luke: What does that mean?
Me: It means the same as that Daniel Tiger song--"When something seems bad, turn it around and find something good." Remember?
Luke: Yes. But what's bad about lemons?
Me: Well, there's not necessarily anything bad about lemons, but a lot of people find them too sour.
Luke: But I looooove sour things, so I looooove lemons. So if life gave me lemons, I'd be really happy!
Me: Yes, I suppose you would.
Luke: But what if you were a person who really loved lemons and life never, ever gave you lemons? There would be nothing good about that.
Me: Yes, that would be disappointing.
Luke: I know! You could go to the grocery store and just buy lemons and then, you'd have them and you wouldn't have to wait for life to give them to you.

Disappointment, in the Form of Cultured Coconut and Dance Rooms

We went to Trader Joe's after dropping Luke off at school yesterday. Trader Joe's is always on my need-to-go-to list because it's the only place around here that has the coconut milk "yogurt" that Weston eats (will this child ever outgrow his dairy intolerance?!) but I put it off as long as possible because it's pretty far from home. As such, when we do finally get a chance to go there, I spend an obscene amount of time looking at everything. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot...

Weston: We at store now?
Me: Yes, we are.
Weston: What we do at store?
Me: We're going to buy some chicken and some Lara bars and some yogurt.
Weston: Weston yogurt?
Me: Yes.
Weston: YUUUUMMM! I eat Weston yogurt at store?
Me: No, we have to buy it and take it home first.
Weston: Whhhyyyyy?
Me: They don't like for us to eat things before we buy them.
Weston: Awwww.

Five minutes later, as we were browsing the aisles...
Weston: Me eat Weston yogurt now?
Me: Have we paid for it yet?
Weston: No.
Me: Then no.
Weston: Awwwwww.

Five minutes later, still browsing the aisles...
Weston: Mama! Buy Weston yogurt now! Me eat it in the car.
Me: I don't think so.
Weston: Whhyyyy?
Me: Because you need a spoon to eat yogurt.
Weston: A spoon?
Me: Yes. And where are the spoons?
Weston: In our house.
Me: So we'll be eating the yogurt once we get to our house.
Weston: Awwwwww.

When we went to pick Luke up later (after our yogurt snack, of course)...
Weston, peeking into the dance room at preschool: Mama, what this is?
Me: That's the dance room. It's where the big boys and girls dance.
Weston, starting to bounce up and down: Me dance?
Me: No, it's just for the children who go to school here. Would you like to dance at home?
Weston: No. Dance at school.
Me: Next year, you can dance at school.
Weston: Whhhyyy?
Me: Because you have to be three years old to come to school here.
Weston: I three years old?
Me: No, you're two.
Weston: Awwwwww.

Back to School

On Monday, Luke's preschool had a transition day, which meant that he had a slightly shortened day and I got to go with him while Weston got some solo time with McMoose. Last year, Luke started school in the middle of the year, so we didn't get to see all the beginning of the year stuff that happened. This year, I'm getting to experience it and I admit that I was skeptical about the logistics of transition day at first. I was worried that the children with stay-at-home parents would get to come and the ones with working parents would not--but as it turned out, all the kids in Luke's class came and it was a lovely, sweet way to re-introduce the kids to preschool. Plus, have you tried asking a four-year-old what went on at school? At least at our house, those conversations go something like this:

Me: How was your day?

Luke: Good.

Me: Did you do anything fun?

Luke: Yes.

Me: ...Would you like to tell me about it?

Luke: I went to school.

Me: ...Yes, I realize. What did you do there?

Luke: I'm not going to tell you.

Me: Right. Any new friends?

Luke: Yes. 

Me: Who? 

Luke: Kids at my school.

Me: Do they happen to have names?

Luke: I think so. 

Me: Do you know any of these names?

Luke: Well...I just know my own name because it's Luke.

Here are some pictures from today (his first full day of school...because I forgot to take them on Monday.)

 

 

Whobody?

Weston's current favorite word is "whobody." For example...

Weston: Whobody bamming with a hammer?
Me: I think it's our neighbor.

Weston: Whobody drinked Weston's water?
Me: You did.
Weston: No me did it. You did it.

Weston: Whobody riding his bike?
Me: I have no idea who that is.
Weston: That a people riding his bike on road. See people?
Me: Yes, I do see the person.
Weston: Noooo! It not a person! It a people!

I know that someday in the not-too-distant future, he'll learn to say, "who," and it will be a sad day when he does. Until then, I am fully encouraging and enjoying the use of "whobody."

Busy

Weston: Hey, Yuke-bear.
Luke: I'm busy.
Weston: Hey, Yuke-bear!
Luke: No, I'm busy.
Weston: HEY, YUKE-BEAR!
Luke: I am busy.
Weston: Heyyo, Busy!

Paint

At what point, I wonder, does painting no longer turn into a whole-body experience?

Addicted

This week, Luke and I have been reading Little House in the Big Woods and I'm at least as interested in the story as he is. We sneak in a chapter in the morning, maybe another before quiet time, and a couple more before bed and each time we get to the end of a chapter, we have a conversation that goes something like this:

Me: So that's the end of that chapter.
Luke: Yup. It sure is.
Me: Yup.
Luke: So...
Me: So...
Luke: Well...
Me: Yeah...
Luke: Maybe we should...
Me: Read another chapter?
Luke: Yes! I love that idea!
Me: Ok, me too! Let's do it.

We end up feeling quite like co-conspirators and instead of our usual 5 or 10 minutes of reading together, we end up reading for an hour. We are living up this last week of summer break.

Week-long Marathon

At the beginning of this summer, Luke sat down and made a bucket list of things that he wanted to do this summer. While I didn't write down my list, I did have one and it was pretty easy to remember because it went something like this:

(1) Potty train Weston
(2) Do the things on Luke's list.

So early on, we half-heartedly talked about the potty and tried to get into the habit of getting Weston to use it, but in case you didn't know, there's just so much fun to be had during the summer! And the idea of staying home for several consecutive days and really working on these skills with him was...not appealing. So after a two or three days of very casual attempts, I said, "Oh, I'll do it in a month." And a month later, there was camp and there were beach trips and I said, "Oh, I'll do it closer to his birthday." Then, his birthday came and went and all of a sudden, I found myself very close to running out of "summer." (Why must it be during the summer, you might ask. After all, isn't the benefit of being a stay-at-home mom that you don't have to structure these things around someone else's schedule? Well, yes. But also, no. Because in about 10 days, our entire lives will revolve around preschool. I don't even understand it.)

So I decided that this was the week. I cleared 90% of the things off our schedule so we could do this thing. And this? This week that just passed? Has been maybe the longest week of my life. It didn't help that both kids have had upset stomachs this week. (Upset stomachs. During potty training week, for crying out loud. Talk about trial by fire!) Didn't help that Weston has taken to waking up at the very crack of dawn since moving into Luke's room. Really, really didn't help that I couldn't run out and get some tea at Starbucks anytime I wanted because--potty training! But we seem to have made it through to the other side (knock on wood, cross my fingers, whatever.) The idea of being done with daytime diapers is thrilling.

Big

There's a lot of big-ness going on around here.

Big Feet. I took Luke shoe shopping today because I noticed that every time he has tried to put on his shoes recently, there has been a lot more hopping, fussing, and requesting help. The reason, as it turns out, is that his feet are two sizes bigger than his current shoes. Oops. We bought him some new shoes then and there and they have real shoelaces in them and he is so excited about learning to tie them. Every time I look down and notice his feet, I think, "Why does he have on big-kid shoes?! Those things are huge!"

Big Milestones. Last weekend, McMoose and I left the kids with my mom and stepdad and had a mini-vacation by the sea. I expected that Weston would have more trouble with it, but he seems to have been fine with it AND he slept through the night both nights that we were gone. Now, he does this from time to time when we're home, too, but for the most part, he was still waking up in the middle of the night and climbing into bed with us. Not a huge deal, but he's getting bigger and kickier, so we decided to try moving him to Luke's room and he has been so excited about sleeping on Luke's bottom bunk that he has stayed in there and slept through the night all week. (Of course, this means that my insomnia has returned and I lie awake until the wee hours of dawn and then I'm grouchy all day. AND I no longer have the convenient excuse of a night-waking toddler to excuse the wakefulness and/or grouchiness.)

Big Attitudes. After spending a weekend away from us, Luke was feeling quite full of himself and was under the impression that he no longer had to listen to us. At various points this week, he has informed us of such things as, "I do what I want and don't do what I don't want," "I am feeling defiant today," and "I do not like that plan."

Big Plans. I told Luke today that I wanted to take a look at his winter clothes so I could see which ones might still fit him and have a better idea of what I need to look for when I randomly search through consignment sales and clearance racks. He asked me if that meant I would need to be in his room during his quiet time and I said yes, to which he replied, "Well, then, you probably shouldn't do it. I usually like to have my quiet times in peace."

Big Jokes. Weston has discovered potty humor. Oh, has he ever. Luke never really went through this particular phase, so this is new to us. He walks around all day, working the word "poo-poo" into every conversation possible and then, he and Luke laugh uproariously.

Big Plants. We planted carrots, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and green beans in the garden this year. Based on past experiences and some research, we were expecting some carrots, lots of tomatoes, a reasonable number of peppers, maybe a cucumber or two, and a few green beans. Instead, we have deformed, miniscule carrots, enormous, giant tomato plants with very few tomatoes on them, no peppers to speak of, a cucumber plant that shows no signs of growing cucumbers, but tries to take over the entire garden (including any human beings who get too close and stand too still,) and an insane number of green beans. We've only been picking the beans for the past three weeks or so, but already, we've eaten them with three meals and have one more meal-sized portion sitting in the fridge and three more meal-sized portions sitting in the freezer. Up until this week, we were harvesting once a week, but this week, we had to do it twice because they're growing so fast. If the harvest season really runs through October like it's supposed to, we'll be eating frozen green beans all winter. (Yay!)

Signed, Notarized, And In Triplicate

For the past almost-two-years, I've been putting off some paperwork that really needed to get done because: (a) I didn't want to do it; (b) I couldn't concentrate on it with the kids running around; (c) I was worried about the end result of filing said paperwork; and (d) I really just didn't want to do it. Today, finally, was the day that I sat down to do it. It went something like this:

(1) Dear Friend comes over to watch the kids so I have no more excuses.
(2) Instead of doing paperwork, go out to the garden and pick a pile of green beans and two tomatoes.
(3) Instead of doing paperwork, go to Starbucks. Because clearly, caffeine is a necessity in this kind of endeavor.
(4) Instead of doing paperwork, sit and visit with Dear Friend until it becomes clear that really, I need to go get started.
(5) Go into office and close door. Sit in spinny chair. Spin.
(6) Turn on laptop. Huff.
(7) Open the half-finished form, which has been untouched for the past almost-two-years.
(8) Look through the information to see if anything has changed. Realize that two years ago, I weighed twenty pounds more because Weston was just a few months old. Gleefully change this information. Congratulate self on postpartum weight loss. Wonder why, if I have lost all that weight, I still have what Luke calls "a big, jiggly belly."
(9) Realize that one of the documents I didn't want to look for is no longer relevant because I have waited long enough that it no longer falls within the window of "During the past five years." Celebrate because this might be the first time procrastination has served me well.
(10) Complete the entirety of Form A.
(11) Realize that before I can submit Form A, I need to complete, submit, and wait for approval of Form B.
(12) Huff.
(13) Complete most of Form B. Call people who might have the rest of the information. Leave messages on their voicemails.
(14) Realize that before I can submit Form B, I may or may not need to complete, submit, and wait for approval of Form C. Realize that no information exists IN THE ENTIRETY OF THE INTERNET about whether I do or do not need to complete Form C prior to submitting Form B.
(15) HUFF.
(16) Read the requirements for Form C. Huff again because every. blessed. thing. has to be notarized.
(17) Realize that in order to file Form C, I either have to mail sensitive legal documents and put my trust in a delivery service or personally deliver the documents to an office that is near my mom's house. Where we spent all of last week. When I could have turned in the documents. If I had known about it.

I am really not interested in being an adult any longer. Where's the form to request an adjustment in status back to childhood?

Waiting for the Other Shoe

My house is clean (for a place that houses two adults, two littles, a dog, and two cats.)

My house is quiet (compared to the din that usually fills these walls.)

I have managed to check off the things that were on my to-do list for today and we're only halfway through the day.

I had enough time to put lunch together while the kids played without squabbling. Had enough time to sit down and eat with them instead of trying to catch up on whatever I was falling behind on. Had enough time to wipe down the table and sweep the crumbs off the floor so that later this afternoon, I will not have to battle the ants that so love to invade our home.

More and more, I find myself feeling like I've got this life-as-a-parent thing under control. Finally.

(I'll sit here, enjoying the clean and the quiet for the next few minutes until the next big disaster happens.)

Attempted Rationality

Luke likes being the first one awake in the morning and in our family of night owls, he usually gets up, gets dressed, and makes himself comfortable with a pile of books before the rest of us wake up. This week, however, I've been the first one awake. This morning, he was just starting to wake up when I went into his room.

Luke: Mama, I was the first one to open my eyes this morning.
Me: Are you sure about that? I've been awake for a pretty long time.
Luke: Well...I opened my eyes right around the time when bats usually go to sleep. Isn't that impressive?

This afternoon, he threw an uncharacteristic fit in the car. Eventually, he came around, but when we got home, I insisted that he lie down for ten minutes and try to fall asleep.

Luke: But whyyyyy?
Me: Well, because usually, even if you're disappointed about something, you can still use your polite words. Today, you weren't able to do that, so I want to make sure your body is well-rested.
Luke: I'm not tired. I just yelled and whined because I really wanted to listen to my music and I wanted you to get tired of listening to my yelling and just do what I wanted.
Me: Well, I did get tired of listening to you yelling, but did I do what you wanted?
Luke: No, surprisingly.
Me: What do you mean, "surprisingly?" When do I ever do what you want because you're yelling?
Luke: Well, you don't...but maybe you should next time!

Tremendously Two!

Weston turned two yesterday and he has taken to the part of the family two-year-old with great panache. He has become quite the mischief maker lately, and always with this half-grin on his face, as if to say, "I know I'm not supposed to, but I'm so cute...what are you going to do about it?" He's lucky he's my second child because what I do about it is (try to) distract him and move on with life. If he had been my first, I would've been far more concerned about the possibility of demon possession.

He has an amusingly expressive face and he can distract you from being irritated by his behavior by pulling down his eyelids or sticking out his lips or doing any number of strange things. Yesterday morning, Yellow Cat woke him up by yowling in his face and instead of being annoyed, he sat up, got within inches of Yellow Cat's nose and proceeded to puff out his lips and flap them around until a very confused cat went slinking out of the room. Whenever he's in trouble, he puts on a great pout and says, "Awww!" in this disappointed tone and makes all manner of grumpy faces and it's hard not to be distracted by how adorable he is.

He's pretty suspicious of people he doesn't know and takes a few minutes to warm up even to some of our friends whom he sees a couple of times a month. His deepest desire is to never, ever be unclothed. If I get distracted while changing his clothes and let him wander around in his diaper for a few minutes, he hunts down clothes for himself and then brings them to me, insisting that "Weston need new pants. Weston need new shirt, too."

He imitates every noise he hears and is usually surprisingly accurate in his re-creation of the original noise. Often, when I read him a book, he repeats after me and gets annoyed if I don't pause to allow him to do so. I've had to start being cognizant of what's on the radio again, even when Luke isn't in the car, because Weston will repeat phrases he hears at rather inopportune moments.

He takes great pleasure in eating, especially foods that have a lot of flavor to them. He passes up typical kid foods like chicken nuggets and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in favor of things like pot roast or chili. We went to The Fresh Market to pick up some things for lunch yesterday and I let him choose our menu since it was his birthday. We ended up eating bananas, oranges, cucumber, ham, lentil soup, and a fruit tart. He suggested strawberries, asparagus, and cupcakes as well, but I thought that might be overkill.

He loves little toys that he can carry around--little lego people and action figures and dinosaurs and animals. He builds things with the tiny, little legos that are supposed to be for Luke because he likes all the wheels and wings and sticks and accessories that are involved in those. Of course, he can't always get things to fit like he wants them to and comes to me for help, but gets seriously annoyed if I put it together in a way other than what he had planned. He throws some rather fantastic tantrums--the kind that involve him going into the downward dog position and crying loudly in the middle of restaurants, stores--really, the most public locations possible. It's helping me feel much less self-conscious in public. You'd think it would have the opposite effect, but as it turns out, there's a upper limit to how much embarrassment you can feel in such situations and we have passed that limit.

He has recently really started enjoying being read to and he and Luke now fight over who gets to pick the books I read to them. Usually, when we go to the library, we get a stack of books that are more appropriate for Luke and a couple of board books for Weston. Last week, I got him a couple of "big kid books" (ie-with paper pages instead of board books) and he was so excited when I took him out of the bag. He still gets a little too excited with them and ends up tearing pages while turning them, but he's learning and in the meantime, we're stocking up on scotch tape.

We've realized just how much he gets hand-me-downs and has to share things with Luke because during the past couple of days, he has been getting birthday presents and we haven't required him to share those the first day that he has them and he has been so careful and possessive of "his" things. Luckily, the novelty wears off within a day because if he had to wait any longer, Luke might have exploded with his desire to get his hands on the new toys and books!

The conversations we have with him are always a little bit surreal. For example...

Weston: Roar!
Me: Ooh, what's this roaring at me?
Weston: Dinosaur roaring at you! Roar!
Me: Oh, my, a dinosaur!
Weston: Nooo! Not dinosaur!
Me: You're not a dinosaur anymore? What are you then?
Weston: I Weston. Luke-Bear is dinosaur.

Weston: I eating apple.
Me: Um...I think that's a potato.
W: Apple! It's apple!
Me: Fine. It's an apple.
W: No! Potty, booty, yuuuuuck!
Me: What?
W: Potty, booty, poo-poo, ewwwww, yuck!

W: What you making?
Me: Dinner.
W: What dinner you making?
Me: Chicken.
W: Eat that chicken now?
Me: Nope. It's raw right now. It'll make you sick.
W: No! No sick! I crocodile. I chomp that chicken. Chomp! Yum.
Me: Oh, my, a crocodile has eaten our chicken. Now what will we eat for dinner?
W: Banana, Lara bar, beetle juice.

Just Pretend

We are constantly pretending one thing or another around here.

Luke, to Yellow Cat: Yellow Cat, there's a mouse in the house!
Yellow Cat cracks an eye open.
Luke, waving a toy mouse around: Look Yellow Cat, a mouse! In the house! Get up, get up and get the mouse!
Yellow Cat closes his eye.
Luke, rolling the mouse across the floor: Yellow Cat, listen. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Did you hear that sound? It's the mouse! It's a real mouse--it even makes mouse sounds! Get it, Yellow Cat!
Yellow Cat wakes up, gives us all a very stern look and leaves the room.

Luke, holding his empty hand out to West: Here, Weston, here's a pet minnow for you.
Weston reaches over, pretends to pluck something out of Luke's hand, and puts it in his mouth: Mmmm, yuuuummmmy!
Luke, breaking down in laughter: No, Weston, that was a PET minnow! Don't eat your pet! Here, I'll get you another one from the lake. Here, I got you one. Remember, it's a pet.
Weston reaches over, pretends to pluck something out of Luke's hand, and puts it in his mouth again: Mmm, pet minnow! Yummy pet minnow!

Weston, pretending to cook at the play kitchen: Ooh. Yum! Mmmm! Yummy food, yummy, yummy! Yuke-bear, eat some yummy food? Ok?
Luke, sitting across the room and reading and not really paying attention: Hmm.
Weston, taking this as agreement, loads up a plate of pretend food and brings it over to him: Here, Yuke-bear. Eat this. Eat this. Eat this. EAT THIS!!
Luke, eyes still fixed on the book, takes whatever is being offered, pretends to take a bite: Yum, Weston.
West, coming over to me: Yuke-bear yike my food!

Talking to Myself

Ever have internal conversations with yourself when trying to figure something out? Today, on a 40-minute drive home, during which Weston was exhausted and really needed to nap, he took off his shoes, but couldn't put them back on again, which led to an intense fit of inconsolable screaming. My internal conversation went something like this...

Oh, geez. I thought we were over the carseat crying. Maybe I should pull over and put his shoes back on.
Seriously?
But he's screaming.
Because he is tired. Keep driving and he'll fall asleep.
Keep driving. Sure, because driving while exposed to loud, shrill noises is optimal.
The sooner you get home, the sooner you'll be able to escape the car. Just drive.
Ok, but what if there's something wrong with him?
There IS something wrong with him. It is called, "Being a tired toddler."
Something ELSE.
Such as?
He could have a dirty diaper.
You'd smell it.
He could be sitting on something sharp.
You'd have seen it while you were putting him in his carseat.
There might be fire ants in his seat.
....Fire ants.
Yes. Fire ants. It's possible.
....Surely you're joking.
Can you be 100% certain that he is not currently being bitten mercilessly by fire ants?
Well...
Ok, so it's time to stop and check him.

Of course, there were no fire ants. All he wanted were to have his shoes back on. The pre-kid me? The one who swore she would be a disciplined parent who raised disciplined kids? She is so disappointed in me right now. Then again, she was kind of an annoying know-it-all.

Morning Chatter

Weston is making his plans and opinions known recently...

McMoose: Weston, can I eat your foot?
Weston: No! Eat Mama foot.

Me, talking to McMoose: What are we doing today?
McMoose: I don't know...
Weston: Eat onions? How 'bout that?

Weston was playing with (read: sitting on) Yellow Cat.
Me: West, the cat doesn't like that.
West: No cat! This a baby tiger.

Celebrate!

We went to watch fireworks tonight and I tried to get some pictures while we were waiting for the show to start. I guess when I look back in twenty years, at least I'll be able to clearly remember their personalities.

Hair

Yesterday afternoon, I decided that I really couldn't put off getting Weston a haircut any longer. Usually, he hates it and makes his displeasure (very loudly) known, but this time, he sat still and made do with a minimal amount of glaring and muttering. Granted, we had to buy his silence with a lollipop and a cup of animal crackers, but it was so, so worth it. And Luke, who always claims that he wants to grow his hair, but actually loves haircuts, decided that he needed to get in on the action. Here they both are with their new 'do's.

Bad People. Good Hippo.

Luke and Weston are each enrolled in a soccer class this summer. Really, I figured it would be a good way for them to burn off energy and Weston is obsessed with sports of all kinds, so it sounded like a good idea.

So every week, on Tuesday mornings, we go to soccer. And every week, on Tuesday mornings, Weston goes through an endless litany of "People. People sitting. People running. People standing. People kicking soccer ball. My soccer ball. MYYYYYYYYY soccer ball! No! No, people! No kicking MYYYYYY soccer ball!!!" While the other two-year-olds run around, participating in races and kicking down cones, Weston clutches a ball to his chest and walks grumpily around, eyeing anyone who gets too close to HIS soccer ball. And because it's an indoor field, he is obsessed with the turf and spends at least 15 minutes poking at it.

This morning, the coach introduced a new game called "Feed the Hippo." A little, portable goal was the hippo's mouth and the kids were supposed to kick "Soccer ball berries" into it. If the kids got too close, the hippo growled and pretended to chomp them. And of course, of course, this is what won my kid over. While other kids fled the "hippo," Weston grinned, kicked in several balls, and then went and sat inside the goal and refused to come out, saying, "Hippo. My hippo. Good hippo."

In Theory

A typical conversation around here...

Luke: I neeed a fork!
Me: Try again.
Luke: Mama, could I please have a fork?
Me: Yes, you may. I can get you one as soon as I finish [whatever I'm doing] or you can get one yourself.
Luke: Mama, I really want you to get me a fork. Could you get me a fork?
Me, starting to feel annoyed: I said yes, as soon as I finish [whatever I'm doing.]
Luke: Mama, can I have a fork please?
Me, fully annoyed now: Luke, chill. I already told you yes. Quit asking and wait patiently.


A conversation today, while eating our picnic lunch...

Luke: I neeeeed that fork!
Me: Try again.
Luke: Mama, can I please have that fork?
Me: Yes, you may. I only brought one, so you'll have to wait while I put some food on Weston's plate and then I'll give it to you.
Luke: I really want that fork, Mama.
Me, starting to feel annoyed: Haven't you already asked me about the fork?
Luke: Yes.
Me: And?
Luke: You said yes, after you put food on Weston's plate.
Me: And now what are you supposed to do?
Luke: Sit and wait patiently and not ask anymore.

...The space between knowing the rules and following them is vast.

Life Plans

Some days, the conversations around here are just fantastic. This has been one of those days.

This morning at breakfast:
Luke: Mama, someday, can we go to the jungle?
Me: Maybe.
Luke: Why maybe?
Me: Well, because...maybe. There's a lot involved in going to the jungle. What are you hoping to do in the jungle?
Luke: Well, I'm hoping to find a parrot and say my name to it.
Me: Say your name to it?
Luke: Yes.
Me: ...Because...you want to see if the parrot will repeat your name?
Luke: Yes. My teacher said it would, but I'm just not sure if that's true. Oh, but you know what, Mama?
Me: What?
Luke: I just remembered something else that lives in the jungle.
Me: Yes?
Luke: Those ants. Those army ants. Remember? They live in the Amazon and they march around and there are sixteen-one-hundred-fifty-four-ten-thousand-million of them and they eat everything in their path, even people.
Me: Oh, my. Yes, I do remember reading something about those in your book.
Luke: So maybe we shouldn't go after all. We don't want to run into any of those.
Me: Or if we do go, we should have a guide who knows all about the jungle and can help us through.
Luke: Yes, well. That guide would have to know all about alligators...and jaguars...and army ants...I guess Dada could do it. He knows about all the things in the world and he's even bigger and faster than anything scary.

Later, while driving home after a playdate and a trip out to lunch:
Luke: Mama, remember the baby we saw at the restaurant?
Me: Yes, she was cute, wasn't she?
Luke: Yes. And she had really tiny hands and she liked it when I waved to her.
Me: You really enjoyed her.
Luke: Do you think we will have a baby in our family someday?
Me: Maybe someday. When Weston is much bigger.
Luke: Yeah, when he's much bigger and not a baby anymore. I think maybe we could have sixteen.
Me: Sixteen babies?
Luke: Yes.
Me: And where would sixteen babies live?
Luke: Well. Some of them might have to sleep downstairs. Ok, maybe not sixteen. Maybe four more.
Me: Hmm.
Luke: Or maybe two more. Then, we'd have four kids and that is how many beds we have.
Me: We do?
Luke: Yes. There is room for one more kid in my bunk bed, on the bottom. And another bed in the guest room. That's four places for kids, isn't it?
Me: It could be, I suppose.
Luke: Or if we want to save the guest room just for when people come to visit us and stay with us, then we could just have one more. I think either of those choices would be good, Mama.

Constructive Criticism

I went to take out the trash this morning and when I got back in, Weston was busily spooning his oatmeal onto his lap.

Me, from across the kitchen: WEST! EAT your oatmeal. Do NOT spill it into your lap!
Luke: Mama. Do. Not. Yell. At the baby. He is still learning.
Weston: Not baby. Weston, actually.

Overly Dramatic

Luke and I had an agreement that when he turned 4, we would get rid of the training wheels on his bike, and so the day after his birthday, that's exactly what we did. Ever since, we've been working on learning to ride without them, but for the first two weeks or three weeks, we were going out once a week or less. It's been a long time since I've learned to ride a bike, but as it turns out, once a week isn't often enough. So now, as soon as McMoose is home from work, the very first thing I do is take Luke for a quick ride down the sidewalk and back. He steers and I keep him balanced.

The first day, it took us 10 minutes and involved 800 million stops/near-falls. The second day, it was about 5 minutes and maybe about 10 stops/near-falls. Today (aka: the fourth day,) there were no stops, it took about 2 minutes, and I was able to let go for a couple of seconds at a time and even when I was holding on, it required minimal effort on my part. I mean, the balancing part required minimal effort. The running down the street, half-bent over, trying to keep up with a bike going downhill in the 80-degree weather? That part left me quite out of breath. In any case, I end up repeating things like, "Use your body to balance the bike," and, "Steer, steer, STEER!" and, "STOP looking at the birds...just look straight ahead of you!" When I say that last one, he inevitably replies with, "But Mama, I can't just look ahead, I HAVE to blink sometimes or else I will DIE."

Zoo Babies

Yesterday was McMoose's and my fifth wedding anniversary and when we first got married, we said that we'd go back to the town where we got married every year around our anniversary. We've kept that promise exactly two out of five years. The first year, Luke was 3 weeks old and hated the car, so of course, we weren't going to take a road trip. The second year, we did go. The third year, I was pregnant with the Largest Baby There Ever Was and we had a lot of other travel plans that summer, so we didn't make it. The fourth year, we went again. And this year, we had very much planned to go until McMoose suggested an overnight...er, over-two-nights...trip to the zoo last weekend instead. The North Carolina zoo is about 2 hours away from us, so when we do a day trip, by the time we get all our stuff together, get everyone ready and fed, and get there, it's already halfway into the day, so getting to stay at a hotel and spend the whole day at the zoo was lovely.

The "fossil dig" area was a big hit. To get to this part, we had to walk through mechanized dinosaurs, which Luke approved of in theory, but when they looked right at him and made noises, he was not impressed. At every dinosaur, he looked at the sign to figure out if it was an herbivore or a carnivore and if it was a carnivore, he quickly ushered us on, saying, "We should just keep moving. Let's just go on." Weston hated them all. He hated that they moved, he hated that they made noise, he hated that one of them sprayed him with water. He clung to my neck ferociously for most of the display, though he did start imitating some of the sounds they made towards the end (while still clinging on tightly, of course.) I was trying to use my phone camera's zoom feature, which apparently just makes the pictures blurry. Tell me why I continue to use the phone camera? (Oh, right...because I always have it around, as opposed to the regular camera, which is...somewhere.)

They did enjoy riding on the one climb-able dino!


The dappled sunlight makes this hard to see, but I love pictures of little ones holding our hands and walking along. So sweet!

I think Luke was channeling the 90's that day, with the backwards-but-slightly-to-the-side hat look.

Look what hatched out of some eggs we found!

They have these big stick hive-looking things that they've put up since the last time we were there. Please ignore the woman walking through the photo!