A Temporary Condition

Water Play

2012-02-15T23:26:00.014-05:00

Luke started swim classes this month. I figured it would be fun for him to get to swim in the middle of the winter. In retrospect, I should've just bought us a family pool pass, but still, I figured I should document it.

Anxiously awaiting the start of the class:
And climbing into the pool:
And holding onto McMoose:

And holding onto the intructor:
See? Should've just gotten a family pool pass. Ah, well...live and learn.

The other day, I thought it would be fun to float paper boats in the bathtub. It WAS fun...for about 30 seconds, until it turned to papier-mache. So then, we got out the foam blocks instead. First, Luke pretended that they were green beans, which he "cooked really, really well, so that they wouldn't be too crunchy for me to eat." Soon, they became a tree house:
Of course, every good tree house needs a "ladder"
And a menacing hippopotamus:
Meanwhile, Weston was having some water play of his own.
So focused!
Is it possible for a six-month-old to look mischievous?

January

2012-02-13T22:51:00.015-05:00

The signature Weston look:

Luke, modeling a present from my mom
Luke has been giving us this look a lot lately. He says, "Mama, I'm 'cowling at you!" (For those of you who don't speak toddler, that's "scowling.")
Luckily, he follows it up with this look. "Mama, I'm 'miling at you!" (Smiling)
(Baby) Boy and Dog--this was back when the Dog actually allowed Weston to be this close to him, by which I mean that it was back before Weston showed an active interest in pulling the Dog's fur.
This child has a deep and abiding love of broccoli. In fact, the other night, he was eating his broccoli with such obvious enjoyment that even Luke asked for a second helping of the stuff.
He enjoys the occasional bit of banana, as well.
And he is very adept at guarding McMoose's gatorade and keeping it safe from intruders and predators alike.
Although he has trying out solid foods for a couple of months, this was his first experience with being spoon-fed a puree:
Ironic, isn't it, that the same kid who will happily chew on a piece of chicken has no idea how to handle applesauce?
Buddha-Bu strikes again!
I sewed him this cap and he's pretty convinced that the only reason those strings (ie-chinstraps) exist is so that he can chew on them.
He has been sticking his tongue out a whole lot lately.

Any guesses where he might have learned that?

The Lost Chronicles of Christmas, 2011

2012-02-11T22:26:00.013-05:00

I know I already posted pictures from December, but as I was transferring more pictures from my camera, I realized that I never posted the few we took on Christmas morning. As usual, we had forgotten to charge up the camera, so we only have a handful, but I guess that just makes them all the more precious.

Here are the stockings I made for us...but where's Luke's?

Ah. Of course.

Weston wasn't quite sure what all the fuss was about.

Oh! A ball!

And another one...
Mmm, and some delicious keys, as well.
And of course, a playmat, which was useful for all of 5 minutes...
...because he then mastered sitting up and playing with toys, which was so much more exciting.
Luckily, big brother was happy to take over with the playmat.
And lest you think poor big brother didn't get any toys of his own, here he is demonstrating his magnetic fishing game.
(He also got a whole lot of other stuff, but of course, the battery died at this point.)

Do As I Do

2012-02-10T16:27:00.003-05:00

Tuesday was not a very fun day for Luke. I'm taking a class and it's a kid-friendly class, in that the kids can come with me, but it's a long drive, followed by 3 hours of me being focused on the class material, followed by another long drive. On the one hand, there were other kids there for Luke to play with, so that was nice for him, but on the other hand, one of the older kids kept taking his toys and that annoyed him to no end.

So on Wednesday, I thought it would be nice to have a very Luke-focused day. And what do we do on Luke-focused days? Why, go to the park, of course! I figured he could run and climb and burn off energy, but of course, he had other plans: he built castles in the sand box (a SITTING DOWN activity!) and then ate his weight in cherries (another SITTING DOWN activity!) And because he didn't get the large motor activity he needed, he was whiny and grouchy and just plain contrary. After trying to be patient with him all day, there came a point when Weston was crying to be fed and I was trying to hurry Luke up in the bathroom so I could go take care of his brother and Luke was ranting about some random thing and I said, in a less-than-kind voice, "Luke! Stop it!"

That doesn't seem so bad, does it? I mean, telling a kid who is in the middle of a tantrum to stop? It's a perfectly normal (if completely ineffectual) response, right? For goodness sakes, I didn't even really raise my voice at him--it was just an expression of my frustration. Totally justified. Except that then, about an hour later, when Weston made some little baby growly noise, Luke marched over to him, looked very sternly at him, and in the very same, less-than-kind voice I had used earlier, said, "Weston! Stop it!"

And somehow, when that face and that voice and those words came from my sweet child and were aimed at my other sweet child, they sounded so. much. worse. So I said, "Luke, let's use a kind voice when talking to Weston. It hurts his feelings if you talk to him in a mean voice."

And do you know what that child of mine said? "Mama...do you remember this morning, in the bathroom? You said, 'Luke! Stop it!' That was not a nice voice."

Ah, yes. I remember. It's humbling apologizing to a two-year-old, admitting you were wrong, explaining that even though you were frustrated, you had no right to treat him with disrespect. Part of me rebels against it because I feel that as his parent, I have the authority, maybe even the duty, to talk to him that way. After all, he has to learn, doesn't he? The problem is that I thought I was teaching him to quit whining at me and instead, I taught him to yell and be impatient with someone smaller than him, someone whom he had, in the past, treated only with kindness.

Every day, these children teach me something new. But oh, what hard lessons these are to learn.

A Love of Learning

2012-02-02T21:36:00.003-05:00

I was recently talking to an acquaintance who suggested that perhaps it's time for Luke to attend pre-school so that he can "learn things." When I worked in the daycare, part of my job was to come up with weekly lesson plans and progress reports, in which I documented our activities and what the children were learning as a result of those activities. They generally looked something like this:

Activity: read book about family. Learning objective: communication, pre-reading skills, focused listening, reflect about family, draw parallels between story and real life.
Activity: Paint with the color red. Learning objective: Identify the color red, sensory input from paint, small motor skills, hand-eye coordination, self-care skills resulting from cleaning up after painting.
Activity: playground time. Learning objective: Large motor skills, interpersonal skills (sharing equipment, taking turns), nature study (discuss weather.)

...you get the idea.

If I had made up a similar plan for today, it would have looked like this:

Activity: Choosing breakfast. Learning objectives: negotiation skills (the oatmeal vs. cookie debate,) nutrition (discussion about healthy eating, discussion of how the digestive system works,) drawing comparisons between human digestion and a vehicle's consumption of fuel, discussion of how fuel is transported to gas stations, basic consumer education (discussion of why we pay for gas and how debit cards are used.)
Activity: Reading a book about a sea serpent. Learning objectives: vocabulary (sea serpent, island,) animal study (discussion of real snakes, both ones that live in water and on land,) more animal study (discussion of how the sea serpent in the book had a mane, much like a lion or a horse,) critical thinking (are island-sized sea serpents real or pretend?)
Activity: Reading a Curious George book. Learning objectives: vocabulary (curious,) exploration of personal characteristics (can one be curious AND a boy at the same time? Can one be a Dada and a boy? A baby Weston and a boy? A monkey and a boy?) Pronouns (what's the difference between he and she?)
Activity: Eating a snack and playing quietly while Weston naps. Learning objectives: interpersonal skills (showing consideration for his brother,) self-care (cleaning up after snack,) learning how to wait patiently.
Activity: Doing a jigsaw puzzle. Learning objectives: small motor skills, spatial reasoning, animal study (discussion of reptiles, special focus on chameleons,) food chain (discussion of what snakes and crocodiles eat.)
Activity: Putting a CD in the CD player. Learning objectives: small motor skills, discussion of how electricity works, sequences (how to open the player, put in a CD, turn it on, wait while it loads, and push play,) shapes (triangle, square,) pre-reading skills (understanding that symbols have meaning attached to them...in this case, triangle = play, two triangles = fast forward, square = stop.)

...And this was all before 11 am. There have been times, especially recently, that I've worried that by staying home with the kids, we're missing out on x, y, or z, but you know what I don't really worry about? Whether Luke is learning things.

Chit-Chat

2012-01-28T15:41:00.000-05:00

There are times when Luke and I are talking and I forget that he's just two-and-a-half. This is such an odd age, when he can speak like a rational person one minute and then have a crying fit the next because the bird outside the window is NOT SITTING IN THE RIGHT SPOT.

Luke: Look at my cheeseburger. I took a lot of chomping bites out of it.
Me: You did. There's just half of it left. In fact, it looks a bit like a moon, doesn't it?
Luke: But not a full moon, though...it's a FOOD moon because it's made of food!

Me: Hey, I saw a log truck. Did you see it?
Luke: I saw what you're talking about, but it's not a log truck.
Me: No?
Luke: No, it's a logGER truck. You forgot to say the -ger at the end of it.
Me: Oh. All right.
Luke: Next time, Mama, you should say logger because that's the right way to say it.

Me: Good morning, Luke!
Luke: Hi. I found my Little Blue Truck book.
Me: I see. It was hiding for a while, wasn't it?
Luke: It was hiding for a while and we found it. Then, it was hiding again and I found it again. Now, I am hoping that Dada will read it to me. Let me take it to him.

Me: We need to take Weston to the doctor.
Luke: Does he need a shot?
Me: Yes.
Luke: He doesn't like shots.
Me: No, he doesn't. Maybe we could give him a hug and a kiss afterward to help him feel better?
Luke: Or maybe we could just not give him the shot. He would prefer that, I think.

Definitely NOT Every Four Hours

2012-01-27T14:47:00.004-05:00

Weston just had his six-month doctor visit. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I really like our pediatrician's practice. However, there are a few sticking points and one of them is that during Luke's infancy and for the first several of Weston's check-ups, there was a portion of the intake interview that went like this:

Nurse: And how often do you feed him?
Me: On demand.
Nurse: Um....
Me: So whenever he's hungry.
Nurse: So does that mean, like, every four hours?
Me: No...it means, like, whenever he's HUNGRY.
Nurse: I'm going to put down "Every 4 hours."

I realize that they're just trying to get some kind of quantification on his eating habits, and I guess if I said I fed him twice a day or something, it might give them cause for concern. But the thing is this: it's really only useful to quantify the NUMBER of times a baby eats if you can also quantify the AMOUNT he/she eats per feeding. And since I have no earthly idea how much he eats per feeding, I suspect that telling them how often he eats would serve no purpose whatsoever.

And that's even assuming I could tell them how often he eats. I've tried counting before. One day, it was 12 times. The next, it was 19. Seriously. He eats with great frequency. And I'm guessing that if I told them this, they would be all kinds of alarmed because according to the chart on their wall, a baby his age should about 4-5 times a day. HAHAHAHAHA.

Apparently, I've complained often enough about this part of the questionnaire (and other parents probably have, too) because they seem to have changed the wording:

Nurse: And is he fed on a schedule or on demand?
Me: On demand.
Nurse: Ok, then.

Yay for doctor's offices where they actually listen to patient input...even if it DOES take two-and-a-half years of input before changes are made!

Six!

2012-01-25T14:50:00.002-05:00

Weston turned six months a couple of days ago and it's hard to believe how quickly time has flown!

He loves to sit up and play, but he still has an unrealistic opinion of his own reach--by which I mean that he leans his entire body forward and reeeeaaaaches for some object that's sitting a good six inches away and in his quest to get to said object, he topples over. Of course, usually, his toppling is enough to bring the object within grabbing range, so maybe it's not so accidental after all.

Lately, he has set his sights on achieving forward motion and oh, how he tries. A couple of times, he has actually managed, in a very lurchy fashion, to move forward a foot or so, but it always seems to take him by surprise. He has been pushing himself up to his hands and knees and, in the past couple of days, has even been experimenting with the downward dog pose.

We had planned to wait until the six-month mark to introduce any solids, but he had other plans and began helping himself to things about six weeks ago. Still, we didn't offer with any kind of regularity until about a week ago. Nonetheless, he has a list of favorites and at the moment, steamed broccoli tops that list. In fact, he's pretty convinced that anyone eating broccoli must want to share some with him.

He's still a snugglebug and one of his favorite games is Catch-Mama's-Face-And-Attempt-To-Swallow-It-Whole. Another favorite is Throw-Things-Out-Of-Reach-And-Yodel-Loudly-Until-They-Are-Returned. But the one that seems to bring him the greatest joy is when I stand in front of a mirror with him on my hip and slowly bring my hand toward him and grab his face. He's so intent watching the hand in the mirror that when my actual hand gets him, it startles the heck out of him and he busts out laughing. I predict that he's going to be a horror movie aficionado, someday.

In the past month, he has gone from being interested in, but suspicious of his brother to being completely captivated by him. Luke plays peekaboo with him and talks gibberish to him and they both end up laughing like loons. Even in the car, Luke has been able to joke Weston into a good mood, which is very much appreciated. (When that doesn't work? The Adele CD always does. As a result of which we've listened to that CD, oh, about 897 times now. In fact, if I ever have a daughter, I might name her Adele in sheer gratitude to this woman.)

Happy half-birthday, Weston, and thanks for choosing us to be your family.

Comic Relief

2012-01-20T18:27:00.001-05:00

In answer to the query at the end of my last post, two-and-a-half-year-olds have survived evolution because they're CUTE. When Luke isn't whining, the things he says are pretty darn adorable.

Luke, while poking at my belly: Hey. Your belly button is brown.
Me: Yes. Thanks for that observation.
Luke: Hm...did Other Baby paint it or something?
Me: No...
Luke: I think he did. He must have painted it with his brown brush...maybe while you were taking a nap.

Luke, while watching a video of bobcats on McMoose's laptop: I like bobcats.
McMoose: They look small and cute, don't they? But they're not nice like our cats...they bite. [Aside: our cats bite too. Specifically the black one.]
Luke: They're on the computer...so never mind, they won't bite us.

Luke: Weston talked to me.
Me: Oh? Did he say, "What's up, Luke?"
Luke, looking at me like I had lost my mind: He said, "Aieeee!" He's a baby. That's all he can say.

Luke, bringing me a bag of sweet potato chips: Here, these are for you!
Me: Aww, thanks! *Look inside to discover that it's nearly empty* Um...they're all gone.
Luke: No, there are more in there.
Me: There are, like, five little crumbled up pieces.
Luke: Yeah...those are your favorite ones, right?

Melting Point

2012-01-19T16:18:00.003-05:00

You know, I kind of thought that since Luke hadn't really done the whole tantrumming thing yet, that we'd just get to skip that stage. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That was the Universe, laughing at my naivete.

Turns out that he was just biding his time, learning from his peers, so that when he got ready to throw his own tantrums, he could throw some REALLY good ones. For instance, the one that lasted THIRTY minutes at a mom's group this morning? It went something like this:

Luke: I want a different chair.
Me: Ok. What chair would you like?
Luke: A DIFFERENT one!
Me: How about the one over here?
Luke, acting like it was the most offensive suggestion ever: NOOOOOOOOOOO!
Me: Ok. How about that one?
Luke: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
Me: Ok. Breathe. Let's use a nice voice--
Luke: No, no, NOOOOOOO!!!!! I want to use a crying voice!!!!!
Me, breathing deeply: Luke--
Luke: Noooooooo, do not say that!
Me: Say what?
Luke: No, no, no, no, no!!!! Talk in a different way!!!!!
Me: I--
Luke: DO NOT TALK!
Me: Right. Let's go to a calm down room. *Lead the way to an empty room across the hall, where he calms down instantly and is completely happy, but wants to go back to his friends.* Ok. Remember: when we get back in there, we're going to talk quietly so other people can hear what's going on.
Luke: Ok. [Upon arrival back in the room] I want a DIFFERENT plate.
Me: There are no more plates.
Luke: There ARE. I want a DIFFERENT one!
Me: There. Are. Not.
Luke: There ARE, there ARE, there ARE!!!! *Jumps like a crazed rabbit while repeating this over and over.*
Me: Follow me. We're going back to the calm room. *We walk back across the hall and again, he's fine and ready to go back.* Fine, but remember: we're not discussing different plates...or different chairs.
Luke: Ok. [Upon return to the room] I want a DIFFERENT napkin. A DIIIIIIIIFFERENT ONNNNNNNNNNNNE! *Stomps around.*
Me: Right. Back we go. *We troop back into the empty room, where he is fine again and ready to go back.* No more whining about chairs, plates, or napkins.
Luke: Ok. [Upon return to the room] I want a DIFFERENT FLOOR! I do not LIKE this carpet! A DIFFERENT ONE!!!!!!

How on EARTH did two-and-a-half-year-olds survive evolution?!

Memories

2012-01-17T14:14:00.002-05:00

Back in college, I had a friend who always had wonderful stories to tell about her childhood. Her family went on these crazy vacations, where they would put on their pajama's and pile into the car at bedtime and look at the stars as they fell asleep and when they woke up the next morning, they'd all be tucked into beds in a motel room somewhere. They'd go to the beach in the middle of the winter and have the whole thing to themselves. They'd go to ski resorts in the summer and while there was no snow, there was plenty of hiking and bird-watching to be had. At home, they'd put on dance music on rainy days and everyone--including her parents--would dance the day away. They'd have picnics on the living room floor. I'd listen to her tell these stories and think Wow, those parents were so quirky and creative and WONDERFUL to put all these cool things together for the kids.

I thought about this friend today as Luke and I were picnicking on the living room floor and I realized something: as wonderful as those memories were, they were all seen through the filter of a child's innocence. Perhaps there was another side to the story. Seen through that same filter, our day today had a lovely, spontaneous, lazy quality. We went out to the library for story time and filled our bag with books to bring home. Then, on the way home, we got a message from a friend who invited us to a park. It was one of those rare January days that was both sunny AND warm--usually we get one or the other--and knowing that a cold front is supposed to blow in later this week, I decided that the park with a friend would be a lovely way to spend the rest of the morning. We drove through a neighborhood of beautiful homes on the way to the park and Luke pointed out all the garages (the kid is obsessed with garages at the moment) and the construction trucks on the way to the park. We played for about an hour and then decided to pick up some food from Sonic to bring home and have a picnic on a blanket on the living room floor while reading the books we'd picked up at the library earlier. It's the stuff of wonderful, childhood memories, isn't it?

Ah, but here's the adult side: I woke up this morning and saw the giant pile of laundry that I didn't want to fold...and I still had another load to wash and dry. We were out of town last weekend, so there was unpacking to be done and the house needed a good cleaning. There was sand on the floor in the hallway because Luke brought home half the sandbox from the park we went to yesterday and I needed to sweep it up. There were toys scattered EVERYWHERE.

Our last set of library books was due back today and the library had already sent two increasingly urgent emails reminding me of that fact. And then, there was the fact that I idiotically joined a book club and we're meeting at some point next week to discuss a book that I still hadn't borrowed, let alone read. So off to the library we went.

We were on our way home so I could face the mess that I still didn't want to clean when I saw the message from my friend--AHA! A way to procrastinate for a bit longer! So off we went to the park. On our way, we got lost, which necessitated the drive through the very nice neighborhood. As Luke was chattering about the diggers and the THREE car garages, I was trying to do an 18-point turn without cursing. I mean, really...is it THAT hard to put in a cul-de-sac at the end of a dead end street?! After playing at the park for a while, I remembered that it had been a while since we'd been to the store, so we didn't have any lunch food. Hey, Luke, I said, would you like to pick up a hot dog for lunch?

We got back home with our food and our books and when I went to put it all on the table, I remembered all the cleaning I HADN'T done this morning. The table was piled high with books and fabric from my sewing yesterday. It needed to be cleared and wiped down before it could be used and I had a fussy baby and a hungry two-year-old. But hey, there was a relatively clear, sunny spot on the floor, just the right size for a picnic blanket. And so, we picnicked.

It was a lovely morning, and it was all made possible by a combination of laziness, disorganization, and procrastination on my part. It got me thinking about my friend because those long, late-night drives filled with wonder and star-gazing? Yeah, who wants to drive with three young children who are all AWAKE?! The trips to the beach in the winter and the ski resorts in the summer? Off-season is way cheaper and we're considering a wintertime beach trip soon ourselves. The rainy-day dance parties? Have YOU ever tried to survive a long, cold, rainy day at home with crazy people under the age of five? I'm pretty sure the parents danced because it gave them a physical way to channel their frustration and was more appropriate than, say, using their kids like basketballs. Here's hoping that my kids remember days like today as, "That wonderful picnic on the living room floor," rather than, "The day Mama didn't want to clean the house."

Everything

2012-01-11T21:23:00.004-05:00

We had a rough night last night. Weston has apparently decided that nursing to sleep is for newborns, so he's trying to figure out how to fall asleep without it, except that--having never done it before--he has no idea how. So he rolls away from me...sucks his thumb...pulls his thumb out...cries...sucks his thumb again...and just as his eyes drift closed, his other arm comes out of nowhere, smacks him in the face and wakes him up. Oy, babies. I do not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night and then not being allowed to HELP him go back to sleep.

And then, today, Luke was moving at glacial speeds and we were late meeting our friends at the kids' museum. It rained and we forgot an umbrella. I forgot my baby carrier, so by the end of the morning, my arm felt like it was about to fall off from carting an 18-pound baby around. And to top it all off, Luke didn't nap, which meant that I didn't nap, so suffice it to say that I'm not a happy camper.

By 5 o'clock, I was a mess of grouchiness held together by grumbles and I was thinking about how TIRED I was and all I wanted was to be left alone for FIVE MINUTES and for goodness sakes, was that so much to ask for? And then, Luke (who up until then was, in my mind, The Ridiculous Human Being Who Was Fighting A Nap For No Reason But To Make My Life Difficult) leaned over and whispered, "Hey, Mama...I had a fun day with you today." Sweet child. Sweet child for whom I am oh, so grateful.

So I started thinking about all the other things I'm grateful for...the list has been building in my mind all night long and is too long to transcribe in its entirety, but for the sake of remembering the sentiment, here are a few of the biggies.

-McMoose. Lovely McMoose, who saw that I was having a rough day and stopped work a little early, even though it means he'll have to log back in to finish up later tonight.
-Luke. Sweet, crazy, goofy Luke, who is so completely two-and-a-half, who can drive me crazy one minute and make me melt the next. Whose hands still have that pudgy baby-ness to them, even as they're starting to do big-kid things like building big houses with Lego's.
-Weston. Precious Weston, who wiggles with joy when I pick him up, who holds onto my face with both of his hands and buries his face in my neck. Who smells like baby shampoo and innocence and love. Who snores ever so sweetly in my arms as he snuggles closer.
-The opportunity to spend my days holding and rocking and playing, going to museums and libraries, exploring parks and woods. How lucky I am that this gets to be my Every Day!
-The luxury of a pretty house, a safe neighborhood, a warm bed, nutritious food.

Luke has a book in which the main character collects little treasures and puts them in his pocket and when asked what he has in there, he replies, "Everything." I know that everything is an incomprehensibly big word, but quite simply, I have everything.

December Pictures

2012-01-10T21:38:00.018-05:00

Here are some pictures from December.

The signature wide-eyed look:

Ah, there we go...a smile!

We decorated our tree. Luke enjoyed spreading out the branches...

...and inspecting the tinsel...

...and helping us put up the ornaments...

...while Weston enjoyed tasting his fingers.

I tried to get some cute pictures of them by the tree and...well...here are some of the results:

Here's Luke, ready to cheer on the Hokies!

Luke is very into jigsaw puzzles at the moment. In fact, as I type this post, my living room floor is covered by them.

A sweet, smushy-faced baby:

I put olive oil on his head one night for his cradle cap. The result?

And finally, my favorite picture of the month:

Bedtime Shenanigans

2012-01-07T17:00:00.002-05:00

Cribs. Can we talk about cribs for a minute?

I hear there are some babies who love cribs. Who sleep in them for 12 hours at a time. Who settle right down when you put them in there. Who feel safe within the four walls...er...rails?

I wouldn't know anything about those babies personally because my two have not been fond of the crib. At least Luke slept in the thing for a few months, as long as I rocked and nursed him to sleep first and then carefully laid him down and sneaked out. But Weston? Weston knows exactly where he's most comfortable and that spot is nestled in Mama's arms.

I still attempt the crib every couple of days because the promise of a couple of hours to sleep on my belly is just too alluring to give up on altogether. So our routine goes something like this:

1. Put baby to sleep.
2. Look at sweet, sleeping baby. Think about how much you don't want to put him down because he's so sweet and asleep.
3. Realize that the sweet, sleeping baby has drooled down your entire arm. Also, he's heavy and is resting directly on your bladder. The crib calls to you.
4. Make sure baby is really, really asleep. Lift up his arm: it flops back down. Poke his cheek: no response. Good to go.
5. Carefully stand up and move over to the crib. A head flops back. Stop. Jiggle and pat, jiggle and pat until he's back asleep.
6. Find the swaddle blanket that is supposed to work for children up to 15 lbs. Remember that your child is 18 lbs. Oh, well. It'll have to do.
7. Insert child into swaddler. Child thrashes. Jiggle and pat, jiggle and pat.
8. Hold arms still and attempt to velcro the tabs closed. Continue to jiggle and pat as the still-sleeping baby seems to grow in strength as he tries to escape.
9. Succeed in fastening the velcro. Grin in silent victory until you realize you've velcroed your sleeve into the blanket. Sigh.
10. Try to open the velcro as quietly as possible. Of course, velcro is not made to be quiet, so it makes the loudest noise possible.
11. Jiggle. And. Pat.
12. Re-fasten the velcro, this time ensuring that no part of your clothing is entangled within.
13. He's still asleep! Victory!!
14. 3 minutes later, hear the familiar sound of velcro being unfastened. Check on the baby, who is fully awake, has broken out of the swaddler, and is grinning like a loon. A loon who then proceeds to stay awake and chatter at you for the next two hours.

Wither Shall They Wander?

2012-01-04T20:35:00.002-05:00

In the past two days, I haven't left the house. Not once. Not even for a minute. And can I just tell you how much I've enjoyed the fact that I have this option?

Staying home isn't something that happens with any regularity. In fact, most of the time, we have multiple things to do every day. But the past two days? Well, they've been coooold. (Sidenote: I know that not everyone who's reading this will agree with that particular assessment. I am fully aware that to some of you, the low-40-degree highs might seem positively springlike. Heck, I used to be one of you not so long ago. But after a few years here, my tolerance for cold has decreased significantly. Plus, I always forget to put socks on Weston or mittens on Luke or a coat on me, so maybe it feels colder than it really should, if I were actually used to and prepared for the cold.) ((Sidenote Number 2: Can babies be allergic to socks??? Every time I put them on Weston, they leave weird, red marks that look almost like burns and they last FOREVER. Seriously, he still has one from two months ago. What IS that?!))

Well. That train of thought took quite the detour. In any case, what I was saying is this: it's cold out there! On the one hand, this makes me hopeful that we might see some snow this year, but on the other hand, I keep thinking about the geese. This year, it seems that none of the geese felt it necessary to migrate south for the winter. I can understand it, considering that up until two days ago, it was in the 60's and 70's. But. Now that it's suddenly freezing, WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO THE GEESE?

In The Interest Of Catching Up...

2011-12-24T22:17:00.007-05:00

...here are some pictures from November.

Here's what Weston thinks of me being over a month late on posting these pictures:

Man, we had to work hard for this quasi-smile!

Nana and cousin Ryan visited and the cousins had a great time! Here they are at the Museum of Natural Sciences--as it turns out, skeletons and bugs are a GREAT way to entertain the pre-school set. (And it was interesting for the adults, too, though I could've done without seeing the hissing cockroaches up close!)

The other piece of great excitement was that Luke moved from his toddler bed to a new bunk bed. He absolutely loves it--he sleeps on the bottom and his stuffed animals--and sometimes, Yellow Cat--sleep up on top.

I'll post December's pictures soon, but for now, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Five!

2011-12-23T21:19:00.005-05:00

Weston is five months old today!

This past month has seen lots of changes. Weston has gotten pretty good at sitting up all by himself, which has afforded him a new perspective on the world. When he gets distracted, he still does a slow lean-fall, but he's getting better and better at stopping himself before that happens. He has also started rolling over. He'd done it a handful of times in the past, but it never seemed to be fully intentional--always more of an, "Oh, hey, I'm on my belly...huh...how'd that happen?" But as of today, he can roll on purpose and has been trying out his new skill with great enthusiasm...and SPEED. Gone are the days of leaving him on the couch or the bed, even for just a minute!

He's started grabbing for things--toys, cats, and people's hair. This has been a sore point for his brother, who wants to play with him, but is still unsure about sharing his toys, even the toys that he himself hasn't played with for over a year. We took a bath in the jacuzzi tub tonight and he spent a good twenty minutes trying to catch the bubbles.

He has also figured out how to scoot himself backwards when we put him on his belly. This, of course, is hugely frustrating for him because he doesn't mean to be going backwards--he means to be going forwards. And instead, whatever he's trying to move towards just keeps getting farther away. The only time he's ever managed to move forward was earlier this week, when I set a plate of cookies about five feet away from him, got up to help Luke with something, and returned to find a baby gleefully gumming a cookie. Oops.

And while we're on the subject of food, we've just about given up on that battle. I fully planned on waiting until he was 6 months old before introducing solid foods, but he had other plans, so he's been having tastes of things for the past few weeks. It's still not very much--a kidney bean here, a grape there, an occasional taste of a banana, etc. (He loves bananas, by the way. Loves. Would gladly eat them for every meal, given the opportunity.) We put it in a little mesh pouch and he gums and sucks it to within an inch of its life and usually, that little taste satisfies him and he's willing to go back to his regular diet of milk.

The other thing that he recently figured out is how to scream. Not cry-scream, but just...scream. In a very loud, high-pitched way. It is now his chosen way to express every emotion he has. Happy? *Loud shriek* Grumpy? *Loud shriek* Bored? *Loud shriek* Fascinated by the fan? *LOUD shriek* You get the idea.

To celebrate his five-month birthday, he tried out a baby swing at the playground for the first time. Oh, the joy:

Some Pictures And Some Words, Too

2011-12-22T20:13:00.011-05:00

I know I'm way behind on pictures, so here we go. These were all taken around the end of October.

Weston tried the doorway jumper for the first time.

He wasn't too sure what to think...

Maybe it's meant to be eaten?

Ah, but here's big brother coming to help out. You can see by the sneer on his face that Weston is highly appreciative of the assistance.

Of course, Weston was done far earlier than Luke wanted, so we had to do some substitution.

We had a Star Wars theme going for Halloween because once Luke heard that there was a person named Luke Skywalker AND that he carried a light saber, he was obsessed. Plus, McMoose had been campaigning for this costume set since before I was even pregnant with Weston. (Well played, McMoose...well played.)

Darth Weston did not care for his hat...

...or for the fact that he was being photographed when what he wanted was to be taking a nice, relaxing bath.

And here's Luke Skywalker. (As a sidenote, I made that shirt and that robe. The robe, in particular, is fabulous and I don't think any of our pictures from that night do it justice.)

Worn out after a long evening of not trick-or-treating.

And why were we not trick-or-treating, you ask? Because it was rainy and miserable. So we decided to go to the mall, since stores usually hand out candy, too. Of course, EVERY OTHER PERSON within a 20 mile radius had the same plan, so by the time we got there, there were precisely TWO stores that still had candy.

In the end, we stopped by the toy store, bought him a stamp kit that we'd been meaning to buy anyway, and had the store owners put it in his trick-or-treat bucket. Oh, and we got him a cookie. And when we got home, it had stopped raining, so McMoose took him to a couple of our neighbors' houses. All in all, he ended up with way more candy than he had any desire to eat, and he's been asking to do it again ever since.

Minding Your Own Business: Fail

2011-12-16T23:45:00.002-05:00

The other day, we were expecting some company, so we ran out to the store to pick up some snacks. We go to this particular store at least once a week and there's one cashier who is ALWAYS there.

Cashier: *Says something in Spanish*
Me: I'm sorry?
Cashier: Do you speak Spanish?
Me: No, sorry.
Cashier: Oh. I was just asking...do both your kids have the same dad?

Are. You. Kidding. Me?

(And from a purely genetic-likelihood angle, the question that would have been somewhat better justified is: Are they both your kids? I mean, if you HAVE to be wildly inappropriate, at least be scientifically accurate about it.)

2011-12-11T21:54:00.002-05:00

I fear I'm raising quite the, for lack of a better word, smart-ass. This morning:

Luke: Dada, I want to get something that all of us can play with. ALL of us.
McMoose: Like what?
Luke: I don't know. You figure it out and let me know.

This evening, during bathtime:
Luke: I want to do a car.
McMoose: A...cartwheel? You can't do a cartwheel in the tub.
Luke: No, I want to do a CAR.
McMoose: I don't know what that means.
Luke: A car is a vehicle. A vehicle is something that drives on the road.

Pants on Fire

2011-12-05T21:46:00.003-05:00

When I got out of the shower this morning, there was a (giant) pile of cheerios on the floor.

Me: Luke? Why are there cheerios everywhere?
Luke: Weston knocked them over.
Me:...Weston?
Luke: Uh-huh.
Me: How'd he manage that?
Luke: He walk, walk, walked over here and kicked them over. Then, he knocked the bathroom scale over with his booty. Then, he fell back down on his mat.
Me: Really?
Luke: Uh-huh. I told him to stop.

Wow. Blaming his baby brother AND making himself out to seem like an angel. This kid has talent.

Handmade With Love

2011-12-04T21:18:00.003-05:00

Every spring and summer, the outdoors calls to me. I have no interest in staying inside, so we plan trips to the beach and the zoo, we picnic and hike, we spend afternoons at the park and the pool. And then, autumn arrives, and with it, a desire to craft.

I've gone through different crafting phases. Needlepoint during high school and college because it was easy to put down and return days or weeks later, as my class and work schedule allowed. Scrapbooking while I was planning my wedding because I wanted to save every piece of paper, hold onto every memory. Knitting while I was pregnant with Luke because the thought of wrapping my new baby in soft, warm blankets made the whole world seem like a cozier place.

And then, for a while, I stopped. I barely had time to think, let alone craft. But when I was pregnant with Weston, McMoose bought me a sewing machine. A wonderful, functional sewing machine. I've owned machines in the past, but I usually buy the cheap, bottom of the line ones because the good ones? They're not easy on the wallet! Of course, this is one case in which you definitely get what you pay for, so in the past, I've sewn one or two things, gotten frustrated, and returned to hand sewing. Which is nice and all, but takes forever, so I had my fair share of projects that I started and never finished.

Enter the new sewing machine. I've made aprons and art smocks and quilts and a Halloween costume and today, while we were at the bookstore, Weston spit up on a sewing book that's chock full of patterns for little boys. We had no choice, of course, but to buy it--don't you know about the you-soil-it, you-buy-it rule? My mind is swirling with all the things I want to make...and isn't it lucky that Weston is on the verge of outgrowing all his winter clothes and will need a new wardrobe soon?

Crib Experiment: Fail

2011-12-03T22:02:00.003-05:00

Weston has always slept on me--in a sling during the day, in my lap in the evening, in my arms at night. If I need to do something while he's asleep, he sleeps in McMoose's arms instead. And I've been fine with this--in fact, I've really enjoyed it. But then, I started to feel that he is four months old, after all, and maybe it's time to introduce him to the crib.

Plus, I figured, if he would sleep in the crib for just a few hours every evening, I could sweep or sew or fold laundry or blog or WHATEVER without having to co-ordinate schedules with McMoose first. So we put the dumb crib together last night. And swaddled Weston up and put him in there. I fully expected him to be awake within minutes. Instead, he slept in there for over three hours.

And did I sweep? Did I sew? Did I blog? No. I folded a (very small) load of laundry and cried. Because that was the longest that he's ever gone without physical contact with me for the past four months. No, scratch that, for the past THIRTEEN months.

Of course, all my gloom-and-doom predictions that he was growing up too fast and he'd be completely independent and out of the house in the blink of an eye were for naught because for the rest of the night, he woke up EVERY 45 MINUTES. See, what I'd forgotten about is that when he sleeps in my lap in the evening, he wakes up every 30-45 minutes, nurses a little bit, and then falls back asleep. And when he doesn't do that, apparently, he makes up for it by wanting to eat constantly all night long.

So right now, he's asleep on my lap again and I'm relishing the sweet, snoring weight in my arms a bit more tonight.

Four!

2011-11-23T21:16:00.002-05:00

Weston is four months old today and suddenly, he seems big. (This might have something to do with the fact that he's asleep in my lap right now, wearing 12-month pajamas. Pajamas that I distinctly remember Luke wearing while he was LEARNING TO WALK.)

This month, we've had a stream of visitors--first, my mom, then, McMoose's mom and nephew. Weston has heartily enjoyed getting to meet all the new people. He is showing himself to be a people person, as he lights up with joy every time someone talks to or plays with him. And because his reaction is so rewarding, people are constantly talking to and playing with him. He smiles and laughs at everyone and chatters and squeals when McMoose and I play with him.

He is starting to tolerate being put down on the floor for short periods of time, so I'm remembering what it's like to do things with two hands. He still prefers to be held most of the time though, including when he's asleep--apparently, non-human surfaces are just not comfy enough for his royal highness. Given how quickly his babyhood is flying past, I don't begrudge him the holding. (Well. Most of the time. Sometimes, I'd really like to sweep the floor.)

Lately, he has been watching us eat with great interest. Hm. Let me rephrase that. Lately, he has been yelling at us and flailing his arms and attempting to grab every bit of food we're eating. Last week, I had him on my hip and I was holding a plum in my hand while trying to hustle Luke out the door and the next thing I knew, there was a baby on my plum. They're supposed to still have the tongue-thrust reflex, which should keep them from eating any food yet, but I'm pretty certain that there was no tongue-thrusting going on. There was, however, a whole lot of gnawing on the plum and I'm pretty sure he actually chewed off a piece and swallowed it in the 10 seconds or so it took until I realized what he was doing. And earlier today, I had him on my lap while eating a sandwich and he very speedily grabbed the bread off the top of my sandwich and attempted to stuff it into his mouth. These next two months until he's "allowed" to have solids are going to seem very long, I fear.

As interested as he is in food and people, it surprises me that he is completely uninterested in toys. I hand him some rings to play with and the grimaces and lets go of them. I dangle a stuffed elephant above him and he ignores it completely, reaching for my face instead. I shake a rattle at him and he yells at me. (In retrospect, knowing how negatively he feels about loud noises, I should have known better than to try to introduce him to a rattle.)

You know what he IS interested in? The TV. The other day, I lay him on the floor, facing away from the TV and he rolled and twisted and turned and scooted himself around until he could see the TV. We don't watch TV very often, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered turning it on just to pacify Weston during one of his grouchy, nap-less days.

He still loves baths and is figuring out how to sit up in his baby bathtub. In fact, he's trying to figure out how to sit up on dry land, too. I kind of think that his enormous cloth diapers prevent him from doing it as well as he otherwise might.

We're all enjoying his emerging personality and judging by his responses to us, I think he's quite enjoying us, as well.

(Pictures to come shortly.)

Luke Says...

2011-11-17T15:44:00.003-05:00

The other day, Weston started fussing in the car and Luke, in a very sweet and concerned voice, said the following: "What's wrong, Weston? What's wrong, baby? Do you think we're going to put you in the trash can? Are we going to put you in the trash truck and let it eat you? No. We aren't. We're going to feed you instead, Mama said. So STOP CRYING!" Dude. If I were Weston, I'd be crying too!

And yesterday, we were at a La Leche League meeting. For reference, the last time we attended a meeting, I promised Luke we could go to Quizno's for lunch, but then I'd forgotten to bring my wallet, so we had to go home instead. Apparently, he remembered that:

Luke: Mama. This is a "Yeyeyeye Yeague" meeting.
Me, chuckling at his pronunciation: Yes, it is.
Luke: Remember the other day? At the Yeyeyeye Yeague meeting? We were going to go to Quizno's.
Me: Yes, I remember. But I forgot my wallet, so we couldn't go. That was disappointing, wasn't it?
Luke: Yes. Did you bring your wallet today?
Me: Yes, I did.
Luke: Good job, Mama! That means we can go to Quizno's today! I'm going to have some chips there. Are you?

And he now likes to play pretend. He also likes to call all the shots:
Luke: I'm going to be a bear!
Me: Oh, my! There's a bear in here!
Luke: No, no, no. Don't say that. You say, "Ack! A scary bear!"
Me: Ok. Ack, a scary bear!
Luke: Rarrr!!! Now Weston, you run away and say, "Help! A bear is chasing me!"

And yesterday, I gave Weston a toy elephant, which Luke really, really wanted to take from him:
Me: Luke, you may not take this toy from him.
Luke: I'm not. Weston. That toy makes a sound. You want me to show you? If you hand it to me, I can show you the sound. It's very cute. Want to see? Weston. Weston? Can you hand it to me? It's a really nice sound, Weston, I'll show you. *Looks at me. Looks back at the toy. Looks at me again and sighs.* Ok, then. He doesn't want to hear the sound.

Got Milk? (No.)

2011-11-08T22:22:00.004-05:00

Sometimes, I feel like dairy intolerance is the story of my life.

Apparently, I had a dairy allergy as a child, as a result of which I ended up drinking some vile, soy stuff until I was three.

Luke had a dairy allergy, too. When he was tiny and grouchy, I cut milk and cheese and yogurt out of my diet and it improved the grouchiness to a certain degree. And then, when he was old enough to eat table food, he reacted to yogurt and milk, but was always okay with cheese and butter, oddly enough. So we avoided yogurt and milk until after he was potty trained and now, he does fine with dairy, though he does still regularly inform me that he likes ALMOND milk, not COW milk.

Weston. Oh, Weston. He has had issues with reflux almost since birth. I knew that reflux is common in babies with dairy allergies, so I cut down on my dairy intake. I played around with giving up milk, giving up yogurt, cutting down on cheese. None of it helped, not really. So I assumed it wasn't a dairy allergy after all, that he was just refluxy.

And then, at about 2 months, his skin started getting rashy and scaly and just overly sensitive. Red flag. Another sign of a food intolerance. At this point, I knew that I really SHOULD give up dairy altogether, but oh, that's such a difficult proposition. So I discussed it with his pediatrician and decided that as long as he was gaining weight and acting happy, I wouldn't worry about it.

And then, his weight gain started slowing down. Now, mind you, the child is still huge for his age, but my biggest baby-fear is to have to re-experience the low weight gain-low milk supply awfulness that we went through with Luke, so I decided to get serious about cutting out dairy.

Except. Do you KNOW what that means? No milk, no yogurt, no cheese. Obviously. No sour cream or cream cheese. Okay. No butter or regular margarine. A bit trickier, but still doable, especially since there are vegan margarines available that don't have any milk protein in them. But. BUT. Then, you have to start reading labels, and when you do, you realize that milk products are used in EVERYTHING. Bread. Salad dressing. Every prepared food ever, except for the ones that are specifically vegan. I mean, even our regular pasta sauce had lactic acid in it, for crying out loud. Pasta. Sauce.

We enjoy eating out at restaurants, but every time we do, even when I scour the allergen menu and order (tasteless, bland) things that the restaurant claims is dairy free, it sets off Weston's reflux again. The other day, I carefully chose my meal, but then absentmindedly picked up a piece of broccoli from Luke's plate and ate it...and then realized, a second too late, that it had been seasoned with butter. Weston spit up for a full 24 hours because of that.

The thing is, in general, his reflux is getting so much better. I mean, the fact that I can even say, "He spit up for 24 hours because of some broccoli," means that in general, he's not spitting up constantly, which he was for the first three months of his life. There's improvement, I know. But oh, when that improvement means that I can't have chocolate--not even a tiny taste--or a chai latte or a piece of cake or pizza or ice cream, it's frustrating.

Worse still: what if he continues to be this sensitive to dairy as he grows? What will that mean for us, in the future? Will we have to structure our lives around avoiding dairy forever? (Oh, please, no!) So much of what I feed Luke has dairy in it--how am I going to avoid those same foods when Weston is old enough to eat them?

On the slightly plus side, what this does mean is that I can have all the soda I want. Because (a) I've had to give up every OTHER beverage that brings me joy and (b) my goal has now gone from weight loss to weight maintenance. Since such a large portion of the calories and fat in my diet came from dairy rich foods, I've lost a good eight pounds in the past two weeks. Not really recommended while breastfeeding, so here I am, sipping a glass of Pepsi and wishing it were hot chocolate instead.

Moments to Preserve

2011-11-07T21:46:00.005-05:00

McMoose got some video of each of the boys the other day, so I thought I'd share.

This first one is of Luke. Every year, we troll the post-Halloween sales for cheap costumes to add to Luke's dress-up box, and one of the things we couldn't pass up this year was this airplane costume. Of course, Luke had to wear it out of the store. McMoose taught him how to hold the wings up and "fly," and Luke got such joy out of it. It was one of those moments that I wish I could re-live over and over...I guess a video is the next best thing! (Be warned, it's pretty dark and hard to see.)

This next one is of Weston laughing later that same evening. McMoose was on the other side of the camera, sticking his tongue out, which is apparently hilarious if you're 3 months old. He was actually laughing a lot more before we pulled the camera out, at which point, he got his trademark worried look, so it's a testament to McMoose's tongue-sticking-out abilities that Weston was laughing at all.

In Need Of Mischief

2011-11-04T14:03:00.003-04:00

Luke has always been a really compliant toddler. When we're out in public, I rarely have to ask him to do something more than once. But lately, it looks more like anxiety than compliance.

Mind you, we have never given him cause to be anxious. We've never spanked him. We've never done the one-minute-per-year-of-age type time out. (In fact, "time out" for us tends to be, "Luke, do you need to come sit with me for a minute?") We try really, really hard not to yell or talk to him disrespectfully.

And yet, earlier today, we were at the food court at the mall and he pushed the stroller away from the table with his feet and I said, "Um..." And that was all it took for him to stop doing it, turn to me with a contrite look on his face, and say, "I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to do that."

Dude. Seriously? You're two. You're supposed to be all kinds of unmanageable. (And to be fair, he does have his moments, but most of that stems from (a) resisting naps or (b) moving at the pace of molasses and being annoyed that I'm rushing him.)

I mean, his favorite activity at the toddler classes we've taken is...cleaning up at the end. I'm used to spirited, rowdy toddlers. I'm not entirely sure how to handle one who's so eager to please that if someone else looks like they might be slightly interested in a toy he has, he puts it down instantly instead of facing the (remote) possibility of a conflict.

2011-11-02T22:28:00.004-04:00

We've been uncharacteristically reclusive this week because the kids have been sick. Normally, that would just mean that we'd be doing solo, outdoorsy things so as not to expose anyone else to our illness, but right now, it's just slightly too chilly in the mornings, especially with both of them not feeling well.

Of course, we can't be entirely housebound because the first question Luke asks me each morning is, "Where are we going today?" and when I tell him that we're staying home, his little face gets so sad. So instead, we've been taking lots of walks around the neighborhood. Yesterday morning, we went to watch the construction trucks that are building...something...behind our neighborhood. Yesterday afternoon, we wandered aimlessly in search of a squirrel. And this morning, we decided to walk to the grocery store to buy some bananas and honey. (Can I just say how much I LOVE the fact that we're within walking distance to a grocery store?)

But apparently, I've completely forgotten the fine art of getting two kids ready and out of the house in any timely fashion because here was our morning:

5:15 am - 8:45 am: Pat a coughing, snorting baby so that he'd stay asleep.

8:45 am: fall back asleep.

9:02 am: McMoose shepherds Luke into the bedroom so he can start working.

9:03 am: Luke says, "Where are we going today?" And because I had been thinking about that very issue from 5:15 am to 8:45 am, I reply, "We're going to walk to Food Lion to buy bananas and honey." To see his excitement, you'd think I had told him we were going to Disney World.

9:05-9:30 am: Get myself and Weston dressed and ready. Tell Luke to pick out some clothes and get dressed.

9:30 am: Fold a load of laundry while Luke chatters about how we're going to FOOD LION to buy BANANAS and HONEY and OH BOY, FOOD LION! (Meanwhile, he's still in his pajamas. Normally, I would have gotten him dressed after asking the first time, but I had decided we were going to have a relaxed, leisurely morning. Ha!)

9:50 am: Tell Luke that he needs to go potty and GET DRESSED before we can go.

10 am: Verbally help Luke put his clothes on because when I offered physical assistance, he informed me that he was going to do it all by himself.

10:05 am: Decide that I should feed Weston before we go because Luke was still trying to figure out how exactly to get his underwear on.

10:15 am: Look for my wallet in the diaper bag. It's not in there. Look in the car. Not there. Look every place I can think of. Not there. Run upstairs to ask McMoose if he knows where it is. He doesn't. Run back downstairs and look in one of the same places where I JUST LOOKED and there it is. Of course.

10:20: Leave the house. Walk down the street. Chat with Luke about the man mowing his lawn.

10:25: We get to a gravelly part of the path and Luke says, "Ouchie! I need my shoes!" I look down and sure enough, we had forgotten the child's shoes. And he walked ALL THE WAY DOWN THE STREET before saying anything about it.

It's a wonder we ever manage to get out of this house.

Attention Must Be Paid!

2011-10-31T15:07:00.002-04:00

Luke is napping and Weston is not--which is a combination that never, ever happens--so I thought I'd sit here on the floor and write a blog post. So I put Weston on the floor beside me and for the last ten minutes, I've been sitting here with my computer. And not writing a word. Why, you ask? Because Weston now laughs.

And it's addicting, that laugh. I mean, it's HARD to make this kid laugh. I have a few tricks up my sleeve and I've been rotating through them, instead of writing. And every time I stop paying attention to him, this scene repeats itself:

Weston: Waah.
Me: What's the matter?
Weston: *Grin*
Me: Aww, look at your smile! Are you smiling?
Weston: *Coo*
Me: *Kiss his fat cheeks*
Weston: *Grabs my hair and waves it around*
Me: Ouch! Hey, you! Let go!
Weston: *Grin*
Me: I'm gonna eat you up! *Pretend to eat his face*
Weston: *Starts biting my chin/nose/whatever else is within his range*

I remember now how much I love three-month-olds. I also remember that from the time Luke was three months until he was over a year old, I never got ANYTHING done because every time I'd start something, I'd get distracted by the cute baby. Something tells me that history is about to repeat itself.

DIY Halloween

2011-10-29T22:51:00.003-04:00

About two months ago, McMoose and I had the following conversation:

Me: I think I'd like to make the kids' Halloween costumes this year.
McMoose: Homemade Halloween costumes are always so awful. They look so amateur.
Me: Super, thanks for the vote of confidence. Fine, then, YOU find them some costumes to wear.

About three weeks ago, McMoose and I had the following conversation:
McMoose: I found Weston a great baby Darth Vader costume.
Me: What about Luke's Luke Skywalker costume?
McMoose: All the ones I looked at sucked. They're thin and cheap looking and they won't keep him warm.
Me: Huh.
McMoose: You should just make him one.
Me: I thought you said homemade costumes never looked right.
McMoose: Yeah...but it's just a shirt and some pants...you can make that. I have confidence in your abilities.

And thus began the biggest fail of my sewing experience. Did you know that it's NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE to find sewing patterns for a Luke Skywalker costume? So I thought, well, how hard can a shirt and a pair of pants possibly be? I went online and found some tutorials on making pants and robes--tutorials that said things like, "Measure the child's legs. Then measure out 3 extra inches of fabric." Except that I don't work like that. That's WAY too much room for error for me. No, I need patterns that I can trace over so I know EXACTLY where to cut and there is NO WAY to mess it up.

My first attempt yielded pants that wouldn't pull up past his knees and a shirt that was very oddly puckered. And I was totally going to say, "Oh, well, he won't remember and it'll be dark anyway, so it's fine." Until we were at the fabric store and realized that yes, there might not be any Skywalker costume patterns, but there are PLENTY of karate costume patterns. Thanks to McCall's, Luke now has a much cooler looking Luke Skywalker costume. And...because the costume patterns were one sale, I bought two other booklets, which means that I now have patterns to make 10 different costumes. Guess how I intend to spend my free time and spare money over the next year.

(P.S. Next time, I'm starting on the costumes 2 months ahead of time so I don't have to stay up until 2 am working on the darn things.)

Luke-isms of Late

2011-10-28T16:17:00.003-04:00

This morning, Luke looked at himself in a bathroom mirror and said, "I'm shaggy. We should probably get me a haircut today." (And that's exactly what we did because yes, he was shaggy.)

Yesterday, in the car...
Luke: When Weston gets big, he'll eat all the spiderwebs.
Me: Huh?
Luke: And the bad spiders, too.
Me: Wait, did you say he'd eat them?
Luke: Yes. But he's too small right now. He needs teeth first.

This morning, in the car...
Luke: Do you mind?!
Me: Me?
Luke: DO? YOU? MIND?!
Me: No, I don't mind.
Luke: No! I'm asking Weston if he minds. Do you mind, Weston?! *Alters voice slightly* Yes, I do mind! *Goes back to regular voice* Yes, he does mind. Mama? Weston says he minds.

Also in the car this morning...
Me: Hey, look, I see a police car.
Luke: Yes. There was a police car. *Thinks for a moment* A police car is a VEHICLE!

At the hairdresser's...
Hairdresser: Are you all ready for Halloween?
Luke: No. It's still autumn.
Hairdresser: It's what?
Luke: Not Halloween. It's AUTUMN.

And a few minutes later...
Hairdresser: Do you see the pig right there? What color is that pig?
Luke: It's white AND pink. That means it's multi-colored.

He got a little rubber ducky at the hairdresser's and for whatever reason, the duck has on a monocle.
Me: That duck has a monocle!
Luke: What's monocle?
Me: A monocle is kind of like eyeglasses, but it just goes over one eye instead of two.
Luke, after considering this for a minute: Actually, I think Monocle is the name of the duck.

Our Month In Pictures

2011-10-26T14:03:00.013-04:00

As promised, here are some pictures from the past month.

McMoose and Weston waiting for lunch at a restaurant

This is his "See my big muscles?" pose:

Not exactly what I meant when I asked Luke to smile.

That's more like it! These pictures were taken when we were getting ready to go to an annual international festival here.

Luke and McMoose at the zoo. We've always tried to go to the zoo in the summer, when it was ridiculously hot. Turns out October is the perfect time for it. Luke is still talking about the fact that the queen bee was not visible in the hive they have for display and speculating as to where she might have been. I never thought I'd have this many conversations about a stinkin' bee.

See the way our double stroller is set up? It's kind of fun because whenever people walk past us, they do a double take because from the front, it looks just like a single stroller, until they see the arms and legs sticking out from the bottom seat.

He always looks a little bit worried in pictures, like maybe he's worried the flash will steal his soul.

I could (and routinely attempt to) eat those yummy cheeks.

We were trying to get him to smile at the camera, but apparently, McMoose is just too distracting.

Three!

2011-10-24T21:54:00.003-04:00

Weston turned three months old yesterday, which means we're officially out of the "fourth trimester." I think he knows that he's the second born and that he needs to speak up for himself because he is getting the hang of that particular skill already. This kid has the oddest preferences ever. He likes being held in arms better than...well, anything else, really. But he can tell the difference between when I'm actually holding him and when he's in a baby carrier, even if his body is in the exact same position and he makes it clear that he wants BOTH my hands to be devoted to him. One of the reasons baby carriers are great is that you can hold the baby AND do something else--sweep the floor, clean a counter, get the two-year-old's lunch ready, etc. But Weston has decided that this won't do and so when he's in the carrier, he prefers to hold onto one of my hands and have me pat his back with the other. Totally defeats the purpose.

He has a serious pout and cry when he's mad about something. The funny thing is that when he's hungry or sleepy or needs a diaper change, he has a sweet, quiet little cry, but if you offend him somehow, he will emit a horrifying, high-pitched noise. Luke loves it because he can go make mean faces at his baby brother and make him shriek. (This does not bode well for the future, I feel.)

He's very fond of routines. And by "fond of routines," what I mean is "requires everything to be exactly so and if it isn't he will TELL you about it." I had gotten into the habit of putting him in his pajamas and then rocking him to sleep in the living room while watching something on TV. Now, he doesn't actually watch the screen, but I guess he'd gotten used to the noise because one night, a couple of weeks ago, the TV was being ornery, so I turned it back off. Apparently, that was the WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN because never before had I heard that kind of screaming come from this baby. In the end, I had to play music videos on YouTube to get him to calm down enough to fall asleep. (I haven't repeated the mistake since. I now know to have a back-up DVD in the player, just in case the TV is wonky while I'm rocking him to sleep.)

He's turning out to be a little bit of a daredevil. This afternoon, he was hanging out in the swing while I was getting lunch ready and all of a sudden, he lurched to one side and almost tipped the whole swing over because of the momentum of his head. He thought it was hilarious, I thought it was...not. And during his bath tonight, he figured out how to dislodge himself from the little seat in his bathtub and went sliding down the tub. McMoose, who was right beside the tub, caught him and set him back up, at which point Weston grinned, giggled, and tried to do it again. DUDE. Why is my non-mobile baby already giving me heart attacks?

He still loves to be held most of the time and we are happily obliging. Really, how can you refuse someone so cuddly and smushy and sweet? (More pictures of the cuddly, smushy, sweetness coming soon.)

Long Overdue

2011-10-23T22:09:00.019-04:00

The benefit to being married to a pack rat is that even when we have no idea where the camera cord is, given enough time, we will come across another random cord that will fit both the computer and the camera. Here are some pictures from August and September.

A reclining Weston:

Baths are so exhausting. *Yawn*

When Weston was about 5 weeks old, he decided that the swing wasn't such a bad place after all. As such, it has gotten way more use this time around. (And by "way more use," I mean that sometimes, when his mood is right, he'll sit in it for 15 minutes while we eat dinner. Dude, it's still better than nothing.)

Gotta love baby fingers!

I'm feeling a little bit nostalgic about the sleeper he's wearing because I tried putting it on him tonight and I couldn't even get his feet into it.

Baby hand and toddler hand:

I believe that look says, "Enough with the pictures, MOTHER."

Cheeky baby.

Our first day in the new house. Weston was less than impressed by my attempts at a Self-and-Baby portrait.

McMoose and I can't decide what color his eyes are. He says brown, I say...I don't know...maybe hazel?

Why can't I get these boys to smile at the same time?

Our first (and so far, only) family picture. That's our swing. In our yard. At our house. YES, I'm still excited.

I spent a lot of time sitting around with a camera and a sleeping baby during our first weekend at the house. Can you tell?

Luke spent that weekend playing in the dirt.

This picture was taken on my birthday. Weston celebrated by sitting and looking worried.

First on-camera smile!

No Good Mother

2011-10-21T22:03:00.003-04:00

On Tuesday morning, we were out at a playground. It was a beautiful fall morning and Luke and I were enjoying the outdoors while Weston napped happily in the sling. All in all, the perfect morning. Enter Random Woman.

Woman: Hey!
Me: *Turn to see who's yelling*
Woman: You no good mother! Baby needs hat. Come on, lady!

Ok, seriously? I know lots of people like to offer unsolicited advice to moms who are out with babies...hoo boy, do I know it. But is it really necessary to heckle them too? Of course, I glared at her and she walked off huffily and that was the end of that interaction, at least for her, but it continued to bother me for a few reasons:

In any other situation, offering unsolicited advice is taboo, but because I have a baby, it's acceptable? Heck, no.
I might have been a mom who feels that hats are overrated, in which case, randomly yelling across the playground at me is probably not going to change my mind.
Alternately, I might be a mom who feels that hats are VITALLY IMPORTANT and who is already beating myself up because I forgot my baby's vitally important hat. In which case, you've just made my bad day even worse. Thanks.

In reality, I feel that hats are somewhat useful when it's cold (which it wasn't) or really sunny (which it was, but we spent most of our time in the shade, so it wasn't a big deal.) Furthermore, vitamin D is important, especially since Weston is breastfed and not currently getting a vitamin supplement. So. Modest amounts of sunlight are good for the kid. He has a head full of hair and his skin tone is such that a few minutes in the weak, morning sun on a fall morning aren't going to cause him to get a sunburn. And more to the point, because I am his mother, because I spend EVERY DAY with him, because I know all of this about him, I weighed the pros and cons of a hat and decided that it was unnecessary. And yet, Random Woman felt that not only did she know better than me what was best for my child, but that because my choices differed from hers, it instantly made me a bad mom.

Of course, if all I have to do to earn a "Good Mother" sticker is put a hat on my kids, I'm set. I mean, according to that logic, I can feed them a steady diet of fast food, park them in front of the TV all day and night, and beat them senseless, but hey, none of that will matter so long as I remember a hat, right?

Customer Service: Fail

2011-10-20T21:50:00.003-04:00

Apparently, the cold weather is bringing out the weirdos and as usual, they always feel the need to engage me in conversation. I strained my back on Tuesday and we've been housebound since, but I was feeling a bit better this morning, so I decided that we had to get out of the house. Usually, we go on a nature walk on Thursdays, but I was in no way up to that today, so instead, we went to a music class at a toy store. (By the way: before I had kids? I would never have guessed that toy stores and book stores held story times and music classes and the like. It's like a whole subculture.)

Now, I really wanted to like this toy store. It's locally owned, I love the toys they carry, they have a playroom for the kids to try out the toys--I mean, it's pretty awesome. Except for the owners. Twice now, I've gone in there and both times, they've ignored my existence until I struck up a conversation with them. (Meanwhile, they're perfectly friendly and talkative with most of the other patrons.) Dude. You run a business. Furthermore, you run a business selling TOYS during a recession and you were complaining just today that it wasn't going as well as you might like. So...maybe...be civil to ALL your customers?

Anyway, after I asked the lady about some of the toys on their shelves (and got terse, mono-syllabic answers in reply), she watched Luke play with the train table for a minute and then came out with this:

Lady: How old is the baby?
Me: Almost three months.
Lady: Oh. And have you been watching this other little boy for long?
Me: Uh...the other little boy is my older son.
Lady: Oh! I just...well...he looks nothing like you or the baby. I just figured you were the nanny.

Up until that point, I had totally been considering buying Luke's Christmas presents from there, but guess what? Now, we'll be ordering from Amazon.

Drive Time

2011-10-13T22:32:00.000-04:00

I started a fitness class last week because (a) I still have 25 pounds to lose, post-Weston and (b) I suck at going to the gym unless I have a commitment like a class. (Could I just take a moment here? 25 pounds?! What on earth?! I need it to go away. Now.)

It's twice a week and the first day, I was all mopey because I didn't like the thought of leaving Weston. Not so much because I didn't want to, you know, LEAVE Weston, but because I'm afraid of baby bottles. Yes, afraid.

See, Luke LOVED bottles. So much so that when he got a bottle every once in a while, he would refuse to nurse for an unhealthy amount of time, in the hopes that he'd get another one. In fact, I remember one particularly harrowing experience which started as a nursing strike because he got a bottle and ended as a full-out hunger strike, where he was refusing solids, bottles, nursing, everything. Instead, he rolled under the coffee table and lay there and moaned FOR HOURS. (I don't know why he needed to be under the coffee table. Or why he needed to refuse to eat. Or why he needed to moan. But then, there was a lot about baby-Luke that I didn't understand.) In the end, we pretty much stopped giving him bottles at all because the occasional convenience just wasn't worth all the drama.

So I was worried that Weston might follow in his brother's footsteps. I worried that he might love bottles so much that I'd either have to wean him or never leave him again. As it turns out, I didn't have much to worry about because the kid is not at all pleased with the idea of deriving nutrition from a piece of silicone. He took a sum total of an ounce, let most of that run out of his mouth, and was more than happy to see me when I got home so he could eat. And since then, I've gone to the class two more times and McMoose hasn't even had to heat up a bottle because Weston just eats before I leave and after I get back.

Which means that twice a week, I get to drive in my car BY MYSELF, pick my own radio stations, and not have to point out every truck we pass. And really? The alone-in-the-car time is way more valuable than the time I actually spend in class.

Tempest

2011-10-12T18:57:00.000-04:00

2.5

2.5 months. Our days are marked by big grins, big fusses, strings of drool, and strings of spit-up. Lots of snuggles and a little bit of playtime on the floor. Reaching and kicking and wiggling and snoring.

2.5 years. (Almost). Our days are marked by word plays and playgrounds, high energy and big hugs. Sweet I love yous and whiny fits. Running and jumping and climbing and requests to do it all by himself.

2.5 is a pretty nice place to be.

Trifecta

2011-10-11T16:00:00.003-04:00

We had a terrible, horrible, very bad, no good day yesterday. Weston refused to nap all morning, so he was a grumpy, screaming mess. Luke was acting spectacularly like a two-year-old, ignoring everything I said and moving at the speed of an especially slow glacier. And I was tired and stressed and impatient. All in all, not a good combination.

Today, on the other hand, has been fabulous. We met some friends for some playtime, where Luke went off and built a whole city out of legos while Weston napped like an angel. We went out to a Thai place for lunch, where Luke ate all his food and kept himself busy at the table (without even a high chair or crayons!), and Weston sat quietly on my lap while I ate. And now, they're both asleep. And of course, today, I'm feeling well-rested and happy and I have patience to spare.

So why is it that when one of us has a bad day, we ALL have a bad day? It would be so much easier if we could schedule it such that only one of us is acting nutty on any given day. I'm pretty sure the answer is that when I'm grouchy, they both pick up on it and it feeds their craziness, which is the worst. system. ever. It's amazing the species has survived this long because I'm pretty sure that if I were a mama tiger who was having a rough day and my tiger babies started biting my tail and clawing my ears? I'd probably just eat them.

What I'm Doing

2011-10-09T23:30:00.003-04:00

Reasons this blog hasn't been updated recently:
-Weston likes being held with TWO hands.
-When Weston is entertaining himself, Luke likes to be held with two hands.
-When Luke and Weston are both entertaining himself, I'm stripping wallpaper.
-When Luke and Weston are both entertaining themselves and I'm taking a break from stripping wallpaper, I'm sewing hats with a friend.
-Or doing the laundry, which I'm fairly sure is self-generating because there is NO WAY we go through that many clothes.
-Or unpacking boxes.
-Or trying to figure out how I'm going to make Luke a Luke Skywalker costume because once he found out that Luke Skywalker carries a light saber, OF COURSE that's what he wants to be for Halloween.
-Or trying to find train stencils for the playroom wall.
-Or sleeping.
-Or working on some paperwork I need to get done and fast.

(In reality, 98% of the time, I'm either holding a kid or sleeping because Weston wakes up, oh, five or six times a night, which means that if I spend 8 hours in bed, I might get a total of five broken hours. How long does this phase last?)

Room For Improvement

2011-09-29T23:53:00.003-04:00

Dear Waitstaff at the restaurant we went to tonight:

Your food was great. The ambiance was nice. And the staff was certainly...enthusiastic. However, we do have a few suggestions for improvement:

(1) When referring to an infant, you should say something along the lines of "Your baby is adorable!" If you attempt to refer to the child by gender, you have a 50% chance of being wrong. For the most part, they're pretty androgynous during infancy and if you refer to a boy as a "she," the parents will probably be grouchy about it. You rely on tips. You shouldn't annoy people.
(2) You should really come up with some kind of system that lets your waitstaff know who is supposed to be serving which tables. The first three times we were asked for our order by different waiters, it was funny. After that? Not so much.
(3) By the same measure, it's also not so humorous when we're sitting there with empty glasses and none of the five waiters who previously came to check on us has brought us a refill.
(4) Bring the kid's food with the first course. Have you ever tried eating a bowl of soup at the same table as a jealous 2-year-old with no food in front of him?
(5) Do not try to take people's plates when they're in the bathroom. Especially when said plates are still FULL OF FOOD.
(6) When asked for a dessert menu, bring a dessert menu. AND THEN TAKE OUR DESSERT ORDER instead of disappearing for 10 minutes.
(7) When asked for the check, BRING THE CHECK. Again, do not disappear for 10 minutes until we have to complain to the manager. And then, when the manager tells you we're looking for our check, DO NOT come back to the table and ask if we'd like our check now. If we didn't want the darn check, WE WOULDN'T HAVE ASKED FOR IT TWICE.

Of Cats and Lizards

2011-09-28T17:58:00.002-04:00

Lately, Luke's imagination has been taking off in leaps and bounds and I've been enjoying watching it develop. Yesterday, I was sitting down and nursing Weston when this conversation happened:

Luke: I see a lizard!
Me (not yet concerned because Yellow Cat likes playing with stretchy lizards): You do?
Luke: Yes, I do see a lizard. It's black!
Me (getting slightly concerned because we don't have a black toy lizard): Are you sure it's black?
Luke: Yes! There's a black lizard right there.
Me (a little bit more concerned, but knowing that if it's a toy, he'll happily touch it): Oh, could you bring it to me so I can see?
Luke, looking at me like I've lost my mind: It's a lizard. We do NOT touch lizards. We look with our eyes.
Me (very concerned now): Seriously? There's an actual lizard over there?
Luke: Yes, there actually is a black lizard.

So I get up and go over there, only to find Black Cat washing her paws and looking very annoyed at all the attention.

Well Visit

2011-09-27T22:43:00.005-04:00

We had Weston's 2-month-appointment yesterday and it went pretty well. Buddha Baby is now 13 lbs, 13 oz, which puts him in the 90th percentile for weight and 24 inches long, which is in the 84th percentile. And he didn't even cry for his shots. (He did make a very sad, pouty face, though.)

One of the things I like about our pediatrician is that her two kids are 4-5 months older than each of my two kids, so our visits feel like a conversation among peers, rather than a doctor-patient relationship. Plus, she doesn't try to lecture me about things like co-sleeping or vaccinating on a (slightly) alternate schedule, so we get along just fine.

Speaking of vaccinating, our schedule is close to the recommended one, but instead of getting 4 shots every 2 months, we do 2 shots once a month. Which is apparently the hardest thing to schedule ever because the receptionist likes to make sure they are EXACTLY 31 days apart. I understand that two sets of shots have to be spaced a month apart, but? These are shots that are routinely given AT THE SAME TIME. So why, by virtue of our choice to split them up, do they have to be given 31 days apart instead of, say, 29?

The Big Questions

2011-09-25T18:06:00.003-04:00

There's a moth stuck between my living room window and the outer screen. If I leave it in there, it will die. The only way to get it OUT of there is to open my window. In which case, it will be inside the living room. I don't WANT a moth in my living room. But neither do I want a dead moth stuck between the window and the screen. All of this, of course, begs the question: how on earth did the stupid moth GET between the window and the screen in the first place?

I planted some green beans and some squash plants because my friend had them and offered them to me. Do I know anything about green bean or squash plants? Of course not. Have I ever, in the history of my life, been able to keep a plant alive? Again, no. So why did I agree to be responsible for these plants?

Before I had Weston, I had all kinds of good ideas for matching, sibling Halloween costumes. I wish I'd written them down because now, I have none. What on earth are these children going to be?

Luke's current obsession is putting things into his nose. Or his ears. I know kids do this. I know it's common. But for goodness sake, WHY?

I tried mopping our floor with stuff that was advertised as hardwood cleaner and ended up with a gross, filmy floor. So then, I tried other stuff, which left it looking a little better, but still not great. You know what finally worked? Two drops of soap in a bucket of hot water. I'm not even joking. Why hasn't anyone marketed THAT as hardwood cleaner?

Two!

2011-09-24T17:19:00.002-04:00

Weston turned two months yesterday and I'm starting to remember how much I love two-month-olds. The random crying doesn't happen anymore--when he's fussing, it's almost always because he's tired now. Before he was born, I thought, "Oh, when the baby cries, I'll just nurse him and whether he's hungry or sleepy, that should take care of it because babies LOVE to nurse to sleep." As usual, the Universe decided to thwart my plans by giving me the one baby on the planet who does not, in fact, like to nurse to sleep. Instead, he prefers to be rocked with a pacifier. I mean, do you KNOW how much time and effort I spent making sure Luke took a pacifier because I didn't want him to be too reliant on nursing for comfort? And now that I'm over that particular brand of insanity, when I'm perfectly willing to nurse my baby to comfort him, I get the baby who wants a pacifier. Are you kidding me?!

He still doesn't like to sleep anywhere other than on my person, but that works out just fine for us because it means that I can still put him in a sling and go about my day, instead of being stuck at home when he's napping. He particularly enjoys napping in the great outdoors--parks, hiking trails, the backyard.

He started smiling about three weeks ago and since then, McMoose, Luke, and I have been making fools of ourselves trying to get him to smile. McMoose can make him smile almost instantly and he'll smile at Luke, as long as Luke doesn't get too close. (This might have something to do with the fact that when Luke DOES get too close, he tends to try to pick Weston up by his head or poke his ears or hug him with entirely too much enthusiasm and it's pretty hard to smile when you're being manhandled by someone who's almost three times your size.) When he sees me, on the other hand, his first thought is, "Holy cow, it's been FOREVER since I ate. I might even be starving. Must have food...WAAAAAAHHH!" So all of his mama-smiles are strictly reserved for AFTER he eats.

He enjoys his swing and seems to believe that the little stuffed animals hanging above it are his friends. He smiles at them. He talks to them. He tries oh-so-hard to reach them. Unfortunately, his limbs don't quite do what he wants them to yet, so while he's busily trying to get his arm to reach up and grab the stuffed animals, it comes and smacks him on the head instead.

He likes it when I put him in the carrier and sweep or mop the floors. He doesn't like it when I try to put away the laundry, possibly because I keep bumping hangers into his head. He's still not a fan of riding in the car--especially in the evening. I don't know why, but he's much more willing to sit in the carseat in the morning than he is later in the day. His favorite time of day is bath time and there comes a time every evening when he starts grumbling at me and the only way to fix him is to give him a bath. (Actually, he calms down as soon as he hears us turn the faucet on. What can I say? The kid knows what he wants.)

He gets called all kinds of nicknames, but he's starting to look at us when we say his name. We have his two-month doctor visit next week, so I don't know what his official weight is right now, but here's what I do know: the pants he's wearing right now? Have dirt stains on the knees. Why, you ask? Because Luke was wearing them WHEN HE WAS CRAWLING. And just as a point of reference, Luke started crawling when he was seven months old, which means that Weston is wearing the clothes Luke wore as a seven-month-old at the ripe old age of NINE WEEKS. I'm pretty sure that if he could talk, he'd ask for a steak.

I do have pictures for the month, but what I don't have is any idea where the camera cord might be packed, so pictures will be up at some point in the (hopefully) not too distant future.

Calm as a Cucumber

2011-09-21T15:40:00.003-04:00

Smell is the sense that's most closely related to memory and emotion.

When Luke was about five months old, I stopped sleeping. For a couple of months, I slept in fits and snatches when I just couldn't stay awake any more. I was convinced that if I fell asleep, if I let my eyes stay closed long enough, my world would spin to an end while I wasn't looking. Every morning, I stood at the window watching McMoose drive off to work and fought waves of nausea because I was convinced he'd be in an accident and it would be the last time we saw him. I sat and held Luke while he napped because I thought that if I put him down, he'd stop breathing and I wouldn't know until it was too late to help him. I don't remember if the anxiety came first or the insomnia, but they fed into each other until I felt like the universe was constantly on the brink of disaster.

Recently, I've been trying to remember why I was that anxious. By that time, Luke was happy, he was eating well and gaining weight well, he was sleeping well. Objectively speaking, there was no real reason for it. And if it could happen out of the blue like that the first time, it could happen again, right? So I've been trying to remember what it felt like. And the thing is, I couldn't remember. It was like trying to remember what labor contractions felt like--when you're not there, you just can't recapture the feeling.

Except that smell is the sense that's most closely linked to memory and emotion. I used to drink this herbal tea constantly when Luke was a baby, but I hadn't had any since. Last night, I was rummaging through our half-unpacked pantry to find some tea bags and since I found a box of those herbal tea bags that I had left over, I decided to just use that. And the instant I brewed that cup of tea, my stomach knotted up and I felt like I was taking a trip back to two years ago.

As much as I didn't appreciate that particular, unexpected walk down memory lane, it was re-assuring to remember exactly how awful that anxiety felt because now, I know that all the little stresses I feel during the day? They aren't that. When I'm frustrated that Luke is moving at a snail's pace or annoyed because I'm sitting in traffic while Weston is SCREAMING from his car seat, it isn't that. And thank goodness for that.

House of Comedy (And Illness)

2011-09-20T15:46:00.002-04:00

Luke was eight months old the first time he got sick. And I was very grateful, because I could not, for the life of me, figure out how we all would have survived that illness had he been any younger. He nursed constantly, he refused to sleep, and he acted generally insane.

As it turns out, acting insane is just how he handles sickness, as he has continued that particular habit with every illness over the past two years. Right now, for example, he has a little cold. A very little cold. He sneezed a few times, coughed a few times, and his nose seems to have developed and On/Off switch because it starts running at random times. And since I didn't want to spread this around to other, unsuspecting children, I kept him home from open gym today. As a result of which Luke's morning looked like this:
-Ate a plate of grapes. Fed me some grapes. Tried to feed McMoose some grapes. Threatened to feed Weston some grapes. I take his threats seriously because a few days ago, I had to extract a cracker out of my not-quite-2-month-old-baby's mouth.
-Asked what we were doing today. Yelled at me when I told him we were staying home.
-Ate a granola bar.
-Ate a bowl of oatmeal with raisins.
-Demanded a second bowl of oatmeal, only to pick out all the raisins and refuse to eat the rest. When I asked him why he didn't just ask for plain raisins, he informed me that he likes "wet" raisins better than dry ones. Seriously?
-Ran in crazy, hyper circles around the house and made me chase him. Screamed at the top of his lungs. Non-stop.
-Ate a cheese stick.

I mean, when I'm sick, I like to cuddle under a blanket and sleep a lot, but apparently, fighting your nap and running in crazy circles is a far better option.

Of course, Luke's sickness is also Weston's sickness and he has his own brand of crazy. By which I mean that he thinks sneezing is hysterical. He grins when he sneezes. He grins when Luke sneezes. In fact, even if he's in the middle of crying, he'll stop and grin when he hears a sneeze. And like his brother, he apparently also needs less sleep when he's sick, as evidenced by the fact that he--and therefore, I--woke up a full 2 hours earlier than normal. Awesome.

Perfectly Reasonable

2011-09-19T17:33:00.003-04:00

Luke, while we were in the car: I want to spin, spin, spin.
Me: You can spin, spin, spin as soon as we get home.
Luke: Why?
Me: Because you're in the car seat and spinning is kind of difficult when you're buckled in, don't you think?
Luke: Just stop here. There's our house. *Points to a Kroger*
Me: I'm pretty sure that's a grocery store.
Luke: I'm pretty sure that's our new house. There's a potty there and lots and lots of food. We could live there.

Luke: I need a drawer.
Me: You need a what?
Luke: No! Nothing!
*5 seconds later* Luke: I need a drawer.
Me: You need a...drawer?
Luke: Noooo! Nothing!!! I don't want you to say that!
Me: Say WHAT? I'm trying to understand what you're saying.
Luke: I don't WANT you to understand what I'm saying.
Me: Why not?
Luke: Because I just want to WHINE!

Luke: I want something to eat. I want a banana.
Me: We don't have a banana.
Luke: I want a red plum.
Me: We're out of plums, too. Sorry.
Luke: I want some croissants.
Me: We're definitely out of croissants.
Luke: We need to go to the store.

Moving Like Molasses

2011-09-14T17:29:00.002-04:00

We've been in the process of moving into our very first house (yay!!!) and oh, my what a process it has been. We had lived in the same apartment for three years, so I completely underestimated how different it is to move with two little ones around. Especially when one of those little ones likes to pull things out of boxes and the other one likes to be held. Constantly. So here's what moving with the two of them has been like:

-The stairs are such that our regular baby gates won't work on them, so we had to order new ones. The new ones will get here on Friday, but until then, there's a whole lot of bargaining with a two-year-old, which goes something like this:
Me: Luke, I need to go get something from downstairs.
Luke: Not right now.
Me: Um...I wasn't actually asking for permission. I need to go downstairs. Do you want to go with me or stay up here?
Luke: Ummmm........The trash can is green!
Me: Yes, it is. Do you want to stay up here or go downstairs with me?
Luke: I saw a lawnmower this morning!
Me: Yes, fine. Downstairs or upstairs?
Luke: I like to eat bananas.
Me: Luke! For goodness sakes, do you want to stay up here or go downstairs?
Luke: I will stay here.
Me: Ok. I'll be right back. Do NOT go down the stairs by yourself.
Luke: Ok!
Me: *RUN downstairs as fast as I can, usually while holding Weston, rummage around, get what I needed, and run back to the stairs, where Luke is trying to slide down the stairs.*

-The door on our apartment could only be locked from the outside with a key, so locking myself out was not an option. It's very much an option at the new house, as I found out last Friday. Luckily, I had both kids with me when I walked out the back door, pulled it shut, and realized that (a) it was locked and (b) the keys and my cell phone were sitting on the kitchen counter. I was pretty grateful that the weather was nice because sitting outside with two kids would've been far less pleasant a month ago, when the highs were regularly in the triple digits.

-Weston really enjoys his swing, which is downstairs. Weston also really enjoys the rocking chair which is--did you guess?--downstairs. Which means that upstairs is the least fun place ever for him, and therefore, for me. GUESS WHERE ALL OF LUKE'S TOYS ARE. (This will change. We just have to strip wall paper and paint the playroom before we can move his toys downstairs. And at this rate, that should only take, what, about a year?)

-I call it a good day if I manage to unpack half a box each day. Of course, we currently have oh, about eight-hundred-and-eleven boxes, so we should be all settled in by the time the kids are ready to go to college. At which point we won't NEED to paint the playroom, so hey, bonus.

Raising a Sumo

2011-09-08T14:02:00.003-04:00

I've now experienced the smaller-than-average baby and the bigger-than-average baby, and you know, the bigger-than-average baby? So much less stressful. Not the baby itself, mind you, but the goofy reactions from strangers.

With Luke, up until he was about 5 months, it was a constant barrage of, "Wow, he's really little!" and "Is he eating enough?" and "Are you sure he's actually 3 (or 4 or 5) months old?" To which my only response was to grit my teeth and smile because when you're already obsessing over feeding issues, the last thing you need is strangers pointing out that hey! Despite your best efforts, your baby is still teeny-tiny!

This time around, I've gotten a lot of, "He's ONLY 6 weeks old?" and "Wow, look at all the rolls on his arms!" and "Are you sure he isn't older?" (As an aside, why is it that people always want to ask you if you're SURE your baby is as old as he is? I mean, is that really the kind of thing you're likely to forget?)

Since my experiences with Luke have left me with some vestigial paranoia about whether my baby is getting enough to eat, I'm very much enjoying all this wow-he's-so-big feedback. And yet, I still feel the need to weigh him once a week. Anxiety, I tell ya...there's no logic to it.

One Strange Duck

2011-09-01T10:08:00.003-04:00

Luke woke up at 6:30 this morning.
McMoose: Luke, lie down. It's still dark outside.
*Luke lies down.*
Luke, 5 minutes later: Dada, can you make it be bright outside now?

Luke, watching Toto walking around on the porch: There's a spiderweb!
Me: Ok.
Luke: A spiiiiiiiiiiderweeeeeeeeb!
Me: Oooooookaaaaaaay.
Luke: I want Toto to go away from the spiderweb.
Me: Why?
Luke: The spider will eat Toto.
Me: Um. No. The spider is small. Toto is too big to be eaten by the spider.
Luke: The spider will drop on Toto.
Me: If the spider drops on Toto, Toto will eat the spider. Toto likes eating spiders. Don't worry, Toto is fine.
Luke, trying to open the porch door: I like to eat spiders, too.

Luke, crawling on the floor on his belly: Ssssssss! Sssssss! Sssssss!
Me: Oh, My! There's a snake on the floor!
Luke, sitting up: I am not a snake. I am a duck, actually.
Me: Ducks do not crawl on the floor and say "Sssss!"
Luke: Ducks DO crawl on the floor and say "Sssss!" sometimes.
Me: When do they do that?
Luke: When they pretend to be a snake.

Things I Forgot About Life With a Newborn

2011-08-26T14:44:00.003-04:00

(When do they stop being newborns, anyway?)

The insane amount of laundry they generate. Between the diapers and the regular clothes, my poor washing machine is due to have a nervous breakdown any day now.
Speaking of diapers, they're actually pretty easy to change and wash at this stage. I forgot that they don't get bad until after we introduce solids...so I was thinking maybe Weston could just live on Mama-milk until after he's potty trained. That's perfectly reasonable, right?
They're freaked out by weird things. Luke hated noise. Anything above a whisper annoyed him. We live by the train tracks and even though he heard those trains multiple times every day, it still took him EIGHT MONTHS to get used to them. Weston, on the other hand, freaks out every time he--are you ready for this?--YAWNS. Seriously. I'm thinking that either (a) his throat is always sore from the reflux and yawning with a sore throat is kind of unpleasant or (b) he thinks he has used up all the oxygen in the room and is worried there won't be any left for his next breath.
They hate the car. Actually, this might just be MY newborns because it seems like every other baby in the country loves the carseat and could spend hours napping in it. In fact, if I read one more parenting article that says going for a ride in the car is a sure way to soothe a crying baby, I might start screaming myself. Because in my experience? Going for a car ride is a sure way to send a perfectly calm baby into hysterics.
They pull their own hair. And then have the audacity to get mad at whoever is holding them at the time.
They can be completely exhausted, but instead of just going to sleep, they prefer to sit and grumble at the world.
They can be in the middle of a meal, get distracted by a shadow on the wall and stare at said shadow for a full two minutes before remembering that they're still hungry. At which point, they get all offended and yell at you, as if YOU'RE the one who got distracted in the middle of a feeding.
Their hair smells really, really good. The rest of them? Smells like regurgitated milk.
They make really sweet squeaking noises in their sleep.
For all the time you spend kissing and holding and rocking and feeding them, they always have a confused look on their faces when they see you--kind of like when you see someone at a family gathering who looks familiar and you KNOW you should remember their name, but you can't think of it to save your life? Yeah.

Bug And Hopper, Month One

2011-08-24T13:07:00.000-04:00

One of the few times he's asleep anywhere other than my arms:

They nap like this. I nap in the (very small) space in between:

The first bath. I'm pretty sure there's a very similar picture of Luke from a couple of years ago.

Sleeping in the sling while I sew--what else?--another baby carrier.

Buddha Baby is watching you.

Sleeping. Looking Enormous. Etc.

Weston in the carseat...

...Luke in the carseat

We got Luke a trampoline--or a "twam-po-YINE!" as he calls it--last weekend.

One!

2011-08-23T05:54:00.000-04:00

Weston turns one month old today. Of all the month-birthdays, this one is the most bittersweet because--he was JUST born! How has it already been a month?!

This past month has been so much easier than I anticipated. I was expecting all kinds of horror and difficulty and although the first two weeks were hard for ME in terms of healing from the birth, the rest of the adjustment has been amazingly easy.

Weston has yet to realize that he is an entity separate from me, so he prefers to spend all his time ON me. Thank goodness for slings and baby carriers, because without those, I'm pretty sure we'd have spent the last month sitting on the couch at home. Instead, when McMoose returned to work when Weston was 2 weeks old, I was able to resume our normal schedule and while we're out at playgrounds and storytimes, Weston sleeps angelically in a sling. (Of course, I do pay for some of the angelic daytime sleeping when he wakes up at 3 am, wanting to discuss the state of the economy.)

Over the past week, he's gotten a little bit fussier, in part because he's spent longer periods of time awake, but most of the time, he can be calmed by going outside or taking a bath. He already seems to know that bath comes before bedtime, so no matter how tired he is, he stays awake and grumbles (ok, screeches) at me until we bathe him and then falls asleep almost immediately afterwards.

The animals have pretty much decided that this new baby stuff is old hat and they largely ignore him, but Luke is enamored by him. All day long, he wants to "see" him, touch him, hold him, kiss him--in fact, yesterday, when he (Luke) bumped his head, he didn't want me to kiss it...he wanted Weston to kiss it. For his part, Weston's reaction to his brother is usually wide-eyed surprise...but then again, that's his reaction to most things. I'm so looking forward to watching these two boys grow up together.

Pictures to come tomorrow.

Sense of Un-Accomplishment

2011-08-19T21:16:00.002-04:00

Things I wanted to get done today:
-Straighten my hair
-Wash a load of diapers & a load of regular clothes
-Take Luke to the park
-Take a shower
-Sew
-Get Luke's and Weston's handprints
-Keep the baby fed and happy
-Pack up some clothes in preparation for our impending move

Things I actually got done:
-Kept the baby fed, if not entirely happy
-Went to the park

I'm pretty sure babies cause time to go at warp speed, which is why I can never get anything done. Except when they're yelling in your ear. Then, time slows down to the SPEED OF MOLASSES. (The reason for the yelling, you ask? Because he was sleepy, but mad that his eyes kept closing. And later, because he wanted to eat, but was mad that there was milk coming out. Turns out even happy-ish babies are out of their ever-loving minds.)

Of Newborns and Noises

2011-08-11T23:08:00.003-04:00

Weston makes noises. Happy, newborn noises. Before this, happy newborn noises weren't really within my realm of experience because my last newborn wasn't terribly happy about his newborn status and therefore, spent most of his newborn-hood screeching at us.

I love, love, LOVE the happy, newborn noises. But? They make me feel ever so slightly guilty because...what if Luke would have been a happier newborn if he hadn't been my first kid?

Here's the thing. Before Luke was born, I read books. Hell, I even read the *right* books. The *good* ones. And the right, good books all say something like this: Babies should be fed on demand, usually every 2-3 hours.

Can I take a moment to point out the idiocy of that statement? Because EITHER you're feeding the baby on demand OR you're feeding the baby every 2-3 hours. And if you're a somewhat neurotic human being who likes rules and guidelines and numbers, chances are pretty good that you're going to read that sentence and say, "Oh, my baby will be hungry every 2-3 hours. So if it's less than 2 hours and he's crying, he's not hungry and I should try to calm him using other techniques. And if it's longer than 3 hours and he's sleeping, I should wake him and feed him, lest he wither away into nothingness." Oh, my word, the sheer stupidity.

Life with Weston goes something like this: He wakes up. I offer to feed him. He squeaks. I offer to feed him. He grunts. I offer to feed him. He poops. I offer to feed him. He falls asleep. I LET HIM SLEEP. End result: he sleeps a lot and spends almost all of his awake time eating. (Other end result: he resembles a baby sumo wrestler.) Which means that his mouth is busy, so he DOESN'T spend his awake time crying. In retrospect, this seems so obvious. Why was it such a difficult concept to grasp the first time around?

Thank You, Luke

2011-08-03T21:38:00.003-04:00

Every night, before Luke goes to bed, he comes hopping into the master bedroom for one last hug and kiss from me. It's a stall tactic, if ever I've seen one, but it's a really sweet stall tactic; one that neither McMoose nor I can resist. And lately, it has become even sweeter because he comes in, gets a hug and kiss from me and then gently climbs up on the bed to hug and kiss his baby brother. Baby brother, for his part, usually turns in his sleep and tries to eat Luke's face.

I'm amazed at how well this little two-year-old is adjusting to the incredible changes in his world over the past two weeks. Suddenly, he's the oldest child instead of the only; he's no longer allowed to play wild games with me (for now); he went from spending the majority of his day with me to barely seeing me at all; he no longer spends the early morning hours cuddled up between me and McMoose; we no longer get to snuggle to sleep at naptime. If I were him, I'd be the grouchiest, most jealous person on the planet.

Instead, he hugs and kisses Weston. He asks if Weston is all right, if he's scared, if he's hungry. He's been testing McMoose a little bit--he is two, after all--but overall, this has been a far easier transition than I expected. And for that, I'm so grateful.

The Flamingo Down The Hall

2011-08-02T12:17:00.004-04:00

We're at the age of un-reason, apparently, because here's a recent conversation from our house:

Luke: I'm scared of the flamingo down the hall.
McMoose: ...What did you say?
Luke: I'm scared of the flamingo down the hall.
McMoose: ...You're scared...of the flamingo...down the hall?
Luke: Yes.
McMoose: There's no flamingo down the hall.
Luke: Yes, there is. It's right there. I'm scared of it.

The flamingo has also appeared in our bathtub and our bedroom. Of all the ridiculous things to be scared of, what on earth am I supposed to do with an imaginary flamingo that walks around menacing my toddler?!

Big Brother

2011-07-31T19:02:00.000-04:00

Luke is completely taken by his new baby brother and frequently comes over to "see" him. His definition of "seeing" seems to be a cross between rubbing, patting, and trying to convince us to let him hold Weston. Here's some of what he's said recently about the baby:

Luke, putting his face right next to Weston's: Baby Weston, are you a cutie pie?
Me: Luke, are you a cutie pie?
Luke: No, I'm a boy! Baby Weston is a cutie pie.

Luke: Baby Weston, you have a birdie and a crocodile on your shirt. See them? They go cheep-cheep-chomp.

Luke, bringing me his (non-working, battery-less) cell phone: There's a picture of Baby Weston in my phone! See?

Luke, later talking on his cell phone: Hi, Other Baby! What are you doing? I playing with Baby Weston. He has small feet.

Luke, at least 10 times daily, usually when I'm nursing Weston: Baby Weston, are you all right? Are you ok?

Luke, in the car, to a crying Weston: Baby Weston, it's okay...don't be scared.

I'm surrounded by an insane amount of cuteness right now. Here's hoping the big brother honeymoon doesn't end too soon.

Buddha Baby

2011-07-31T17:01:00.012-04:00

As promised, here are the cute newborn and toddler pictures!

How did all that chub fit inside me?!

Studying Weston for the first time.

McMoose and Weston at the birth center.

Luke meeting his baby brother for the first time.

Luke has learned how to take self-portraits.

Luke and Weston wearing their monster shirts.

Buddha baby!

There's a picture of Luke wearing this same outfit as a newborn. I can't believe how much bigger Weston looks!

All this lying around and having people adore you is tiring stuff!

Taking Time

2011-07-30T16:02:00.002-04:00

Weston is a week old today--how can it be that already, I have to count my baby's age in weeks instead of days?

The past week has been...intense. It's so easy to forget what the early postpartum period is like, I think in part because we all like to think of ourselves as rational human beings. We do not like to remember those times when we're unreasonable for no reason, when we're exhilarated one moment and despondent the next, when we snap at the very people who are trying to help us.

It doesn't help that I remember how much more mobile I was with Luke and at an earlier point. When he was six days old, we took him to Target. This time? I spent the sixth day in bed, barely able to roll over without cringing. The thing is, this time, I came out of the birth with far less serious tearing, so you'd think that would translate to a much faster healing time, right? Right. Except that with really bad tearing and lots of stitches come the REALLY GOOD pain meds. So last time, even though my injuries were worse, I felt better sooner because my pain was pretty well managed. This time, I'm getting by on ibuprofen, when I remember to take it, and that's a good thing--I know it is--but man, prescription pain pills made a lot of difference in how I coped with life last time.

So this time, I've been completely reliant on the people around me to take care of Luke, help with Weston, even bring me food and water. It's been a humbling experience. I miss being able to make myself a cup of tea. I miss being able to take a walk around the neighborhood. Most of all, I miss being able to play with and hold and go places with Luke. But I'm trying to be patient, to give myself the time to heal, to remember that in the long run, a week really isn't that long. I'm taking this time to cuddle my baby, to trace the curve of his ear, to study his tiny fingers, to kiss his Buddha cheeks. I'm trying to be patient.

A Birth Day

2011-07-28T12:06:00.004-04:00

Warning: This is a birth story. If that ooks you out, I'd suggest you skip this one and check back soon for cute newborn pictures instead.

I woke up at 5 am on Saturday, thinking, "I'm in labor." There was no reason for this thought, really, but there it was, firmly entrenched in my mind. 37 minutes later, I had my first labor contraction.

My first labor had lasted 19 hours, so I expected this one to take a while, too. My midwives had warned me that second labors are usually half as long as the first, but still, that gave me a good 10 hours, so I decided I'd straighten my hair. (I know. That's an odd thing to do in labor. The first time, I shaved my legs. I don't know why, but these things feel phenomenally important to me while I'm in labor.)

The contractions had started off about 8 minutes apart, but an hour later, they were already coming every 5 minutes. This process had taken all night with Luke, but still, I figured I had plenty of time. Luke and McMoose woke up at 7:15 and when Luke came out to the living room, the first thing he said to me was, "Baby Hopper is going to come live in our house soon."

By this time, I'd figured out that humming was a great way to get through my contractions, so I hummed and danced through them and we soon called the birth center to tell them that it might be time to come in. Luke was going to be staying with Other Baby during the birth, so we called Other Baby's mom. Since my timing is phenomenal, it was Other Baby's birthday, so his mom had to pause her party preparations to come get Luke. I briefly considered taking Luke to their house and dropping him off, but soon realized that would probably be unpleasant--and thank goodness I came to that conclusion!

Other Baby's mom came at about 9 am and took Luke and after a brief detour to take the Dog to the kennel, we headed off to the birth center. The ride to the birth center was, to put it mildly, hellish. Luckily, the contractions slowed down a little bit. Before we left home, they were coming every 2 minutes or even more frequently, but in the car, they came about every 6 minutes. Since it was hard to get through them while strapped in a seated position, I was very grateful for the break.

We got to the birth center at 9:50 and I was very excited to get out of the car. As soon as we got into our room, the midwife offered to check me, and I was curious how far along I was, so I agreed, fully expecting her to say I was 4-5 centimeters dilated. Imagine my surprise when she said I was already at 9 cm!

I walked around and hummed through a couple more contractions, then they tried to put in an IV so I could get some antibiotics I needed. Attempt 1 while I was mid-contraction: fail. Attempt 2 while I was mid-contraction: fail. At this point, I pretty much asked the midwife what exactly the point was, since the antibiotics come in two doses 4 hours apart and we were all pretty certain the baby would be born much sooner than that. She replied that at least we could get the first dose in, but suggested that I get into the tub, so at least the contractions would be more manageable. I agreed and OH MY GRACIOUS, that was the best decision ever. I can't even describe how good it felt to be in that warm water, but I would have done some serious harm to anyone who suggested I get out.

They finally managed to put in an IV and at some point, I yelled about feeling a lot of pressure and my water broke at 10:17. The contractions got slightly easier after that for a little bit, but soon, I started pushing. One of the things I'd asked my midwives was to not coach me through pushing because I think intense coaching last time led to some problems and the midwife was great about not coaching me. It made me a little bit nervous at the time because I felt like I didn't know what I was doing, but apparently, my body had it under control.

I was still on my hands and knees in the tub, so the midwife said that as soon as the baby was born, she'd pass him under my belly and up to my arms, but that plan didn't quite work out. By this point, I really just wanted someone to GET HIM OUT, a desire which I made known loudly, so the nurse got down beside me and told me that his head was out and I needed to push NOW to get the rest of his body out. I did, although in my head, I still felt like it was an awful lot to ask, and I remember actually feeling the rest of him be born. Can I just say what a weird feeling that was? I don't remember this part of my labor with Luke and I'm amazed that I still remember it this time.

At 11:13 am, Weston Vishal came into the world in a bathtub of warm water. He looked like a baby Buddha, which is why his current nickname is Buddha-Bu. I moved to the bed for some stitches (which took about 20 minutes this time, as opposed to 90 last time), during which time we all guessed how much he'd weigh. Turns out he weighed 9 lbs, 6 oz and was 22 inches long, with a 14 inch head. I'm still amazed at how much easier the labor and delivery were with my 9+ lb baby than with my 7+ lb baby...how is that even possible?

We've all spent the past week dealing with the ups and downs of life with a newborn and the postpartum recovery period, but McMoose, Luke, and I are completely captivated by this new addition to our family and are so happy to finally get to know him.

Will He Or Won't He?

2011-07-21T06:10:00.004-04:00

When I went into labor with Luke, there was a moment, fairly early on, when I *knew* that it was different from the months and MONTHS of Braxton-Hicks contractions and that things were really getting started. There have been a couple of days recently when I thought I sensed that same difference. Obviously, my super-sensing powers must be off this time around because Hopper is still firmly entrenched on the inside, but I'm getting a little bit concerned that I might not actually know when I'm in labor for real this time. I mean, obviously, I'll know it EVENTUALLY, what with the baby coming out and all, but really, it would be nice to have a little bit more of a heads-up than that.

So at my midwife's appointment yesterday, I brought up the whole why-am-i-having-weird-pre-labor-that-seems-real issue, expecting that I'd get some reassurance and maybe some advice on favorable positions to encourage Hopper along or something. (Because the other thing that happens during these odd little bouts of pre-labor is that he moves NON-STOP for the entire 5-6 hours that it's going on. Big movements, movements that feel like he's trying to figure out how to position himself and just can't quite manage it.) Instead, I got this little nugget of wisdom: "Well, there's really not much we can do...either he'll find a way out or he won't."

Um. He won't? In what crazy, alternate universe is "he won't" even an option? I'm sure that what she actually meant was that in any given bout of pre-labor, he'll either find his way out (and be born) or he won't (and the pregnancy will continue for a few more days/weeks until he does.) But I have to admit that when she said it, I had a sudden and terrifying image of a paunchy, balding, full-grown man living in my belly 45 years from now.

Guess what?

2011-07-20T10:37:00.003-04:00

Conversation in a normal household:
Person 1: Guess what!
Person 2: What?
Person 1: *Tells Person 2 the news*

Conversation in my household:
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: No, you say, "What?"
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: No, I say, "Guess what." You just say, "What?" Ok?
Luke: Ok.
McMoose: Guess what!
Luke: Guess what!

Another conversation in my household:
Luke: Guess what!
McMoose: What?
Luke: Noooooooooo! Noooooooooo!!! NOOOOO-NOOOOO-NOOOOO!!!!
McMoose: What's wrong?
Luke: Guess whaaaaaat!!!!
McMoose: What?
Luke: NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! GUESS WHAAAAATTTT!!! AND DO NOT SAY WHAT!!!

I live with two crazy people.

Channeling Patience

2011-07-19T15:23:00.002-04:00

I suck at waiting. So let's start there.

And now, let me tell you all the things I'm waiting for right now:
1. Hopper
2. A house
3. Our real estate agent to call. me. back. about an aforementioned house.
4. The chance to run out to the store because I've realized that the nasal aspirator we had when Luke was born has turned into a bath toy and we NEED another one before Hopper arrives.
5. Tomorrow morning, so that I can go to my midwife appointment and hear Hopper's heartbeat again. I know that at this point, he's so big that if I'm ever feeling uncertain about the existence of a heartbeat, I can just poke him and rest assured that when he moves indignantly away from the poke, he's probably doing just fine, but still. I like hearing the heartbeat.
6. This dumb cold I caught to go. away. I mean, really. It's the middle of summer. I'm 38 weeks pregnant. I'm 50 pounds heavier than I was 10 months ago. It's over 100 degrees outside. Do I really need to have a cold right now? Huh, UNIVERSE?
7. Did I mention the house? And the real estate agent? Who needs to CALL ME BACK?
8. The motivation to do laundry, clean the bathroom, or tidy the living and dining rooms, all of which should ideally be done before Hopper gets here.
9. McMoose to be done working. Not so much because I need help with anything, but just because I need to look at a living, breathing human being and make this noise: AAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH. Because I. hate. waiting. (And now, I'm guessing that if McMoose reads this post before the end of the day, he might just invent some extra work for himself to do so that he doesn't have to listen to me making that noise all evening long.) (And also, I made that noise at Luke before he went down for his nap. He looked up from the lego zoo he was building, grinned, and said, "Mama, you are being loud." Kid, let me tell you about the pot who called the kettle black.)

37.5 weeks

2011-07-14T19:02:00.002-04:00

I'm about 2-and-a-half weeks away from my due date and between the 100 degree days and the sleepless nights, I'm starting to hope that perhaps Hopper will be inclined to join us sooner rather than later. I know. I know. I've said time and again that I need time to get through the 80 million things on my To-Do-Before-Hopper-Arrives list. And I DO need time. Except that in addition to time, I also need energy and the combination of no sleep, ridiculous heat, and active toddler are robbing me of all energy and motivation. Which is to say that no matter how much longer Hopper stays in, I'm probably not going to get a whole lot done, so he might as well mosey on out.

I've been pretty lax with my baby preparations this time, but I have managed to get a bag packed...well...not PACKED exactly...but I did make a pile of things on a chair in the office that will EVENTUALLY be put into a bag. And by "eventually," I mean, "probably when I realize I'm in labor." And although we haven't installed the infant car seat in the car, we did pull it out of storage and put it in the TRUNK of the car, so at least we'll have it with us. And although I haven't been staining furniture and organizing and re-organizing baby clothes and researching baby gear and decorating a cute little space for the baby, we have put together a cradle and gotten all the newborn clothes and diapers washed and ready. So, you know. We're ready...in a laid back, this-is-our-second-kid kind of way. Which is not to say that we're not excited. We totally ARE. It's just that with Luke, we had so much STUFF ready and in the end, he spent all day (and night) in our arms, while the stuff sat and collected dust and the cats slept in the crib.

But even with the low-key preparation that's going on around here, we've been talking a lot about the impending new arrival, especially with Luke, who now has some very interesting ideas about this whole baby brother thing.

He knows that Hopper is coming to live in our house, but believes that after Hopper is born, he (Luke) will get to go live in my belly.
He believes that Hopper is bringing him a truck.
He believes that Hopper will share all of his (Hopper's) toys with Luke because, in Luke's words, "My baby Hopper is nice!"
Yesterday, after he played with a friend who has a baby sister, he asked me where his baby sister was and I said he doesn't have a baby sister, but will soon have a baby brother. His reply: "My baby brother is Baby Hopper. He will live in my house soon. When Baby Hopper lives in my house, my baby sister will live in Mama's belly." Um....you know what, kid? Let's give it a few years.
Today, he kept asking to "see Baby Hopper." I explained that Baby Hopper is still in my belly, and therefore, not really visible. He responded that he'd like to go "in there with Hopper." I explained that no, there's not enough room in there with Hopper. He then poked at my belly and said wistfully, "Hopper...there's enough room out here..." and pointed at the living room. Looks like I'm not the only one who's anxious to meet our little Hopper.

Busy Like Bees

2011-07-10T04:45:00.003-04:00

Could I just take a minute to point out AGAIN that this late pregnancy insomnia makes zero sense to me? None. Whatsoever.

That being said, at least it gives me the time to update this poor, neglected blog. I haven't been doing much writing lately because instead, we've been doing a whole lot of living. (We also haven't been doing much in the way of laundry, dishes, or keeping to a decent schedule for the same reason. That's going to catch up with us and SOON.) Ever since Luke was born, I've tried to have at least one Thing To Do every day because it gives us a chance to get out of the house. When Other Baby was here, we sometimes skipped one or two days of the week because getting the two of them fed, dressed, out the door, down the stairs, and into the car was sometimes just more trouble than it was worth, but still, we were usually pretty good about it.

This past week? Every single day, I've had at least three different things to do. Now granted, some of these were things like, "Go to Toddler Gym Class." Probably not a huge priority in the grand scheme of things. Except that really, that's "Go to Toddler Gym Class because this might be the last week that you get to take Luke to do that for a while." And when I add in that second part, of COURSE I have to take him. Plus, I took on a few projects that I really should finish before Hopper gets here. Plus, we decided that NOW would be a good time to start house hunting. Ahahahahahaha.

So this house hunting thing? I have to admit, it's a lot of fun, but I also think it's a lot of why I'm not sleeping at night. I just can't. stop. thinking. about it. I told our real estate agent that I'd like to see as many places as possible before Hopper decides to join us on the outside, and she took me at my word, because we've been going out approximately every 2-3 days this past week and seeing 7-8 houses each time. Luckily, Luke LOVES this process. Half the time, when I ask this kid if he'd like to go to the playground, he replies with, "No, just play at home right now." But so much as mention the possibility of going to look at houses, and he's all, "Go see big houses now? Guk see more big houses? Mama, wanna see houses? I'm goin' see lots and lots and lots and lots of big houses. See houses now? Houses? Big houses? Let's go see them!" And so on. Apparently, he enjoys narrating the houses: "This is the kitchen. See the sink? This is the living room. I found a bathtub! There's a biiiiig potty. I see a dead bug in the closet!" He walks around, inspecting every corner and crevice, going up and down the stairs, and checking out the backyards. And of course, he's particularly helpful when it comes to pointing out bugs, stray cats, and the ambient noises in the neighborhoods--airplanes, frogs, whatever.

Slowly, but surely, we're going down the list of things we need to do before Hopper arrives and I'm hoping we can check off a few more of the biggies before he decides to join us.

From the Mouth of Luke

2011-06-30T13:50:00.003-04:00

Putting his hands on my belly, "Mama? Are you all right? Are you contracting?" I love that the word "contracting" is in my two-year-old's vocabulary.

While in a public bathroom with McMoose: "Dada! This is NOT a urinal! Sit DOWN!"

Looking at a picture of the three of us: "It's Dada and Guk and Anisha!"

After joining us in bed at 6 am: "It is bright outside. Do NOT tell me to go night-night."

Anytime I tell him to do something he doesn't want to do: "I need to sit for a minute first. I'm all ouchy." (This is because one time, ONE TIME, I had a bad Braxton-Hicks contraction while walking up the stairs and told him that I needed to sit for just a minute before we could proceed.)

In the middle of the I'm-going-to-eat-you game: "Don't eat me, Mama! I'm all yucky! Eat food instead--it's yummy!"

Stay IN

2011-06-29T18:24:00.003-04:00

Things I have heard today:

-"I can't believe how BIG you are!"
-"There's no way you're going to go another 5 weeks."
-"You still have a month left? But how could you possibly get any bigger?"
-"Honey, you look like you're about to tip over. Do you feel like you're about to tip over?"
-"Do you think this will be a huge baby, since you're so big?"
-"I bet the doctors are wrong about when you're due. You're probably overdue already!"
-"You look like how I looked when I was a week overdue with my first!"
-"If I were you, I'd be preparing for a baby any day now."

Ay-yi-yi. Of course, it does surprise people when they ask if I'm hoping Hopper comes early and I reply with a resounding no. Personally, I don't understand the surprise. Yes, I might be big and look like I'm about to tip over (Who SAYS that?!), but dude, surely anyone who has ever had a baby remembers that the baby-on-the-inside is, oh, about two million times easier than the baby-on-the-outside. Plus, I have five weeks left. FIVE. And I need every. single. one. of those five weeks to get ready. So Hopper? Cover your ears. Pay no attention to all the crazy individuals telling you to come out early. You just stay in your cozy spot for as long as you need to. (Although...if you do go overdue, I might start to feel differently about this.)

Rationale

2011-06-23T11:26:00.004-04:00

In a recent conversation with my dad, he said, "You have a rash, you can't sleep...why do women do this?" This being pregnancy, of course. And you know, I don't have an answer to that question. Or the larger one of why does ANYONE do this? This being parenting, of course. What on earth are we getting out of this?

First, there's the pregnancy, with all the nausea, mood swings, losing your center of balance, widening feet, foolish comments from strangers, possible blood pressure issues, possible blood sugar issues, dizziness, possible pre-term labor, worry about the health of your baby, and on and on and ON. And then, there's the labor.

And then, THEN, just when you think you've come out on the other side, there's the WHOLE REST OF YOUR LIFE, when you get to be responsible for someone else, worry about their safety, and generally live in fear that something might happen to this person you decided to bring into the world. There's the study that says that parents are, on the whole, less happy than non-parents. So why? Why would you do this?

The best answer I can come up with is this: it's fun. That's it. There's no deeper, philosophical reason. I'm not doing this for the immortality, for the passing down of my genes, for the deep and abiding sense of fulfillment. I mean, maybe I am, but mainly, I'm doing this because it's just really fun. And funny. And I like it when my kid hugs me, even though it's usually followed by him licking my face. I think it's hilarious to watch him "jump" off the couch, except he's so cautious that it's really more that he steps gingerly off the couch while saying, "Ready? Set? Go!" It warms my heart when he's eating and notices that I'm not and offers to share his crackers with me, even though they're his favorite. And when he wakes up at 3 am and comes to our bed, even though I know he's probably an evil genius who's trying to kill me through sleep deprivation, I also get kind of excited because he's just so soft and warm and cuddly. And somehow, that makes up for the rash and the insomnia and all the rest of the weirdness.

Early Morning Rambling

2011-06-17T03:47:00.003-04:00

It's 3:45 in the morning and I've been awake for an hour.

The fan clicks. Not always, not every night, but when it's in a bad mood, it clicks. Tomorrow, I told myself, I'll fix it tomorrow. Just ignore it for now. So I tried. Then, it began clicking to the beat of the song, Hey, Mickey. Have you ever tried to sleep with that song in your head?

The birds are awake and chirping. I know, I know. The early bird gets the worm. But dude. It's 3:45. The sun isn't going to be up for another 2 hours. There's no way these birds can even see a worm right now. Furthermore? Worms are gross and the early bird might get the worm, but the sensible, late bird gets to sleep in. I know which one I'd pick.

Every morning, at 3:30 am, McMoose's phone buzzes and speaks in a demonic voice. Apparently, some automated service sends him email updates at this ludicrous time of day and the phone feels the need to inform us of that fact.

Hopper is awake and rolling around, probably because he hears Hey, Mickey playing and he wants to join the party.

My rash is back. Of course it is. From what I remember, it started at 35 weeks last time and when I realized it probably wouldn't go away until the baby was born, I spent about an hour crying. Because the thought of living with it for the next 5-7 weeks was that horrifying. This time? 33 weeks and 4 days. That means that potentially, I could have to put up with up to eight-and-a-half more weeks of this torture.

Since this is the third night I've woken up at this ungodly hour, it would seem that I've entered that ridiculous phase of pregnancy during which one is constantly tired, but can't sleep for longer than three hours at a time. And I've entered this phase a good 3 weeks earlier than I did last time. Because...this time, I have a toddler running around, so not only do I need more energy, but I'm also less able to take naps whenever I'm tired. So of course, of course I would enter the insomniac phase earlier. Because that's the kind of thing that makes sense to my body.

Good Mama: Fail

2011-06-10T11:01:00.005-04:00

Today was one of those days when we didn't have anything planned. What that usually means is that we take our time getting ready in the morning, enjoy a leisurely breakfast, and spend the morning at the playground. And this was exactly what I was planning to do today.

So I showered and got dressed. Got Luke dressed. Made breakfast. Fed them breakfast. Cleaned remnants of breakfast off the table, wall, and carpet. Took Luke to the potty. Changed Other Baby's ridiculous blowout of a diaper. Found him some new pants. Got both kids dressed again.

And...stepped in cat vomit. Awesome. Cleaned up the vomit, while the toddlers stood around, saying, "Eww, what's that? Mama got yuck on foot? Mama got yuck on hand? What's that yuck?"

Got the diaper bag packed. Got the kids' shoes on, amidst protests of, "No brown socks today, want WHITE socks. No sandals! Want sneakers! No shoes today, just socks! Guk do it! Guk do it! No mama put Guk's socks on--GUK DO IT!!!"

So I figured that after all that, I should take a short break, get some water and maybe eat a handful of peanuts before heading out. And during the two minutes that it took me go fill up my water glass and grab the peanuts from the pantry, Luke came up and proudly informed me that, "Guk go pee-pee on Guk pants! Guk go pee-pee on Guk's socks! Guk go pee-pee on FLOOR!!! Get new pants now? Get new socks? Get new shoes?"

And while I was getting him his new pants, Other Baby brought me a little white screw and just as I asked where it came from, there was an enormous crash from the other room. Turns out he'd pulled it out of the tall fan in Luke's room, which was now in two separate pieces on the floor. So I shoved it into the guest room and put up a gate so they wouldn't go in and play with it and turned around to find that Other Baby had taken off his shoes, socks, and pants and Luke had emptied one of his dresser drawers in an attempt to find himself some green pants.

It was at this point that I came to the realization that it's upwards of 90 degrees outside, I'm 32 weeks pregnant, the kids are out of their ever-loving minds, and I'm too damn tired to get them down two flights of stairs, wrestle them into carseats, drive them to the playground, and then make sure they don't throw sand, push each other down the slides, eat mulch, or run out into the parking lot. So instead, I'm sitting here in my rocking chair and letting them slowly destroy my apartment.

Thank. God. It's. Friday.

Glass Half Full

2011-06-08T21:56:00.002-04:00

Other pregnant woman: How's the pregnancy going? Are you having any problems?
Me: Nope, it's going really well so far! How about yours?
Other Pregnant woman: Well...my back hurts...I can't sleep...I have no patience with my toddler...I'm always tired...and hungry...and hot...I'm just ready to be done!

I'm not an optimistic person, not really. But the above conversation gave me pause this morning because my response? Sounds totally positive. I mean, of COURSE my back hurts too and I can't sleep either and my patience levels are sadly low and I'm tired and hungry and hot and have random dizzy spells. That's pretty much a given with the last couple of months of pregnancy, isn't it? But when I said everything was great, what I meant was that considering I'm 32 weeks pregnant, everything is great. Everything is normal. There are no complications, no added risk factors, nothing unusual.

The conversation continued as we talked about our toddlers. Again, when she asked about how Luke was sleeping, I said he sleeps fine. She responded by saying that her daughter still wakes up about once a week and again, I thought, oh. Well, of course. Luke still wakes up at night too, most of the time. But again, isn't that par for the course of having a toddler? They wake up. They refuse to eat green things. They play with the toilet water sometimes. They touch dead bugs. It's just what they do. Right?

I'm trying to figure out when I went from being a grouchy pessimist to being a somewhat positive person. (And I'm thinking it has something to do with the fact that McMoose gets to bear the brunt of my pessimism. He gets to see the freaking-out-about-random-stuff, the complaining-about-the-size-of-my-feet, the grouchiness-about-the-never-ending-pregnancy. He gets to talk me down from this stuff on the daily. And because he does, I get to spend most of my days being positive and feeling like I have a decent handle on this stuff. Thank you, McMoose.)

More Context, Please

2011-06-07T11:57:00.004-04:00

You know how sometimes, you're driving and something interesting comes on the radio and you have to turn it off, just so you don't get too distracted? No? That doesn't happen to other people? Oh. Well, anyway...I was wishing pretty hard that Luke had an off button while we were driving back from story time today because HOW ON EARTH is a person supposed to concentrate on driving when this conversation is going on:

Luke: Mama, see turkey today?
Me: Hmm?
Luke: I want see that turkey again.
Me, tuning in: See what?
Luke: That turkey! That turkey! I want see that turkey again!
Me: You want to eat turkey?
Luke, getting more insistent: NO! I want SEE that turkey again!
Me: Dude, WHAT are you talking about? What turkey?
Luke: That BIIIIIIG turkey.
Me: Ok, that helps me not at all. When did you see a turkey?
Luke: Guk see turkey this morning.
Me: You did not see a turkey this morning. You might have seen a turkey some other morning, but you did not see a turkey THIS morning.
Luke: I DID see turkey this morning. It was BIIIIG. I want see that turkey again.
Me: Luke. I have NO IDEA what you're talking about. Where did you see a turkey?
Luke: See turkey by the fire.
Me: By...the...fire?
Luke: Turkey run fast! Guk run. Other Baby run. Other Baby dada run.
Me: The turkey was by a fire...and it ran...and Other Baby and Other Baby's dada were there? Are you talking about the turkey you saw when we went camping BACK IN APRIL?
Luke: Yes. Want see that turkey again today? Yes? Okay?

The Hopper Special

2011-06-03T21:35:00.002-04:00

I know that when I was pregnant with Luke, there were a million things I wanted to say about the pregnancy and about Luke and this time, I haven't dedicated nearly as much time to talking about pregnancy. Or at least, not on this blog. Because goodness knows I talk about it constantly in real life.

Part of the reason is that this pregnancy has been so easy. Very little morning sickness, no horrible, constant contractions like I had last time, no gigantic swollen ankles (yet!) It has been--dare I say it?--pleasant. Enjoyable, even. I mean, other than the part where I've gained a million pounds and can't roll over in bed, but I was pretty much expecting that.

But you know what has taken me by surprise? The fact that, while Hopper moves around a lot, he doesn't act like a crazy jumping bean 24-7. Which is to say, he sleeps from time to time. And he doesn't care for it when he's woken up. At my last two midwife appointments, they wiggled his head to make sure that it was, in fact, his head and not his bottom, and boy howdy, was he displeased with that. Have you ever housed an annoyed fetus who holds a grudge? Yeah. It's fun. I'm hoping that some of the calmness will translate to life outside the womb and that he might sleep on the outside, too. Of course, given the fact that his big brother already pokes at him and says, "All done night-night, Hopper," I'm guessing he's not going to get too much opportunity for uninterrupted rest.

So far, I know that Hopper sucks his thumb, likes to sleep (sometimes), gets angry easily, and might be...large. Here's looking forward to getting to know a lot more in a couple of months.

He Said, She Said

2011-06-02T13:52:00.002-04:00

Methinks it's time for another round of "Things Luke Said."

Luke: I baby Guk!
Me: Hi, Baby Luke. How's it going?
Luke: Noooo, I not a baby. A baby is a baby.
Me: Well, what are you then?
Luke: I a boy!

Luke, while looking through the bushes for a lizard he'd seen the previous day: Izard! Izard! Where are you, Izard? Come out, I show you a leaf!

Me: Hey, Luke, do you hear that firetruck siren?
Luke: It's not firetruck. It's ambulance, actually.
Me: It is? How do you know?
Luke: Firetruck go wee-wee-wee. Ambulance go we-oh-we-oh-we-oh.
(I had no response to this because...is there actually a difference between firetruck and ambulance sirens? This isn't a question I've ever pondered before.)

Luke: Guk eat peanut butter sandwich?
Me: No, you just ate oatmeal. That would be Mama's peanut butter sandwich.
Luke: That be Guks', actually. (Aside: That wasn't a misplaced apostrophe. That's how he actually pronounces it: Guks'es.)
Me: I'm pretty sure it's Mama's.
Luke: I pretty sure it Guks'.
Me: I don't think so.
Luke: I DO think so. Dada DO think so. Other Baby DO think so. It Guks' now.

Me: Ok, Luke, time to go night-night.
Luke: Yes, night-night. But play first, then go night-night, okay?
(I put this one in here because that's my standard answer when he wants to do something: Yes, of course we can go to the playground...but we're going to take a nap/eat lunch/go potty/whatever first and THEN we can go to the playground. And the two-year-old has figured out how to turn my own words against me.)

The First Day of June

2011-06-01T10:37:00.004-04:00

The first day of June and we have a high of 99 degrees. I have 9 weeks to go in this pregnancy and every day that the temperature soars above 90, I wonder how I'm going to make it.

Two toddlers are running around like maniacs because even at 10 am, it's too hot to be outside. So far this morning, we've heard the firetruck sirens pass by the road outside our apartment five times. It seems cruel that anyone should have to deal with a fire on top of the crazy heat.

The belly boy seems to sense my discomfort and is trying to make himself more comfortable by stretching out his limbs. If I had to make a prediction, I'd say he's going to have long limbs.

The toddlers have two identical toys, thoughtfully purchased because Other Baby's mom figured that might decrease some of the fighting and make my days somewhat easier. One of the toys has been abandoned and they are fighting over the other one. Two-year-olds are just unfathomable little beings.

Luke informed me this morning that the firetrucks were going "to get some fire." Other Baby is sitting with a bucket on his head, saying "Boooooo!" The Dog is panting on the back of the couch, as high off the ground and as far from the toddlers as he can get. I imagine that has something to do with the fact that they tried to use their toy drills on his head not too long ago. Soon, they'll lure him back down with sticky hands full of raisins, just to try to use their (toy) circular saw on his back.

The air conditioner shudders and turns off. I hope this isn't one of the days it decides to stop working because I'm sick of seeing the maintenance man, who comes to our apartment, talks to the toddlers, and fixes nothing.

Luke licks a book, then tosses it into the basketball goal, where it gets stuck. Unfazed by the loss, he goes off to lick the wall instead.

The first day of June and the crazy heat seems to be bringing some extra crazy to our home.

31 Weeks

2011-05-29T21:31:00.003-04:00

Conversation with odious cashier today:

Him: You're ready to pop anytime, huh?
Me: Not for another two months.
Him, leaning over, staring at my belly, and bugging out his eyes: Two more MONTHS?!
Me: Yeah...
Him: Do you have twins in there?!
Me: ...No...
Him: Damn! Well, that'll be a...healthy...baby!

Because a "Thank you, have a nice day," wouldn't have sufficed?

Constant

2011-05-26T11:12:00.003-04:00

In the equation of Luke's life, I am the constant.

I know this won't be true for long. But right now, today, I am the keeper of his story. I know the context behind each scrape and bruise, I know why he's wary of tall slides, and most of the time, I can decipher what he's saying and add enough background to create a cohesive tale. This is pretty awesome.

But as with everything, there's a flip side. The flip side of being his constant is that he's mine. He's there when I have errands to run, when I have a headache, when I'm exhausted from waking up 200 times the night before because I just couldn't get my Very Large Belly situated comfortably. He's there when I eat a snack, clamoring for a bite before I even sit down. He's there when I need to pee, offering to flush the toilet for me. He's there, offering advice on which shoes I should wear every time we leave the apartment.

At some point, the constancy gets a little overwhelming. Earlier this week, I was bemoaning the lack of spontaneity in my life.

"I can't just go pick up a sandwich for lunch," I said to The Dog, who listened dutifully, "without changing diapers, putting on three sets of shoes, keeping two toddlers from plummeting down the stairs, dragging those same two toddlers across the parking lot to my car as they try to run in opposite directions, strapping them each into their carseats as they yell about wanting to do the buckles themselves, listening to an incessant stream of loud chatter about trucks during the drive, unbuckling them as they yell about wanting to do it themselves, dragging them across another parking lot, and then trying to keep them from pulling over shelves and chairs wherever we go." The Dog sniffed sympathetically.

Luckily, Other Baby's mom is a teacher and is off for the summer in about three weeks. I'm thinking maybe after having two toddlers around, just having one for a few weeks will seem like a vacation. I'd still really like it if that one quit following me to the bathroom, though.

Sassy Monkey

2011-05-19T15:05:00.003-04:00

Luke and Other Baby pulled all our couch cushions onto the floor and were jumping from the couch onto the pillows.

Me: What are you doing?
Luke: Make Monkey Joe's! [Aside: Monkey Joe's is a bounce house near us.]
Me: You made Monkey Joe's?
Luke: Yes! Jumping on pillows. It's fun!

Glad to see they can keep themselves busy. And here, I've been wasting the money on gas and admission to Monkey Joe's, when apparently, I could've just piled pillows on the floor.

A little while later, I was telling them to get ready for naptime.

Luke: No! Play Monkey Joe's more!
Me: We're all done with Monkey Joe's for now. Let's get a book to read.
Luke: No, thank you, Anisha! I want play Monkey Joe's more!

More Tact, Please

2011-05-17T14:49:00.003-04:00

Dear Birth Professionals,

In case you were not already aware, it is inadvisable to enter a room with a pregnant woman and utter the phrase, "Wow, you must be getting pretty close, huh?" Because at least some of the time, you will get something along the lines of, "Um...no...I have eleven weeks left." And when you do get that response? It is even more inadvisable to say, "Well, I wish I could tell you that it would go by fast, but I'd be lying."

See the thing you're holding in your hand? The folder looking thing that has lots of papers in it? Yeah, that would be my chart. And on the very first page of my chart, on the very top line, is listed my DUE DATE. Which is in July. The very last day in July, even. So maybe, just maybe, you could've taken a quick glance at that piece of paper before coming in and making me feel like I'm carrying The Biggest Baby Ever.

(Because surely, someone who sees pregnant women all day, every day, should have a pretty good gauge of how far along you are, right? And if a person like this thinks you look like you're "getting pretty close," and you actually have two-and-a-half months left, that's not good news, is it?)

((It also does not help when you're told later in that same appointment that perhaps you should cut down on your carb intake. And that your 29-week belly is measuring like a 32-week belly should. And that your baby feels freakishly long. Really, none of this is reassuring to someone who's looking at a very long 11 weeks of carrying what is potentially The Biggest Baby Ever.))

10 Easy Steps To Planning Your Toddler's Birthday Party

2011-05-12T13:53:00.000-04:00

1. Decide a month ahead of time that maybe a birthday party might be fun to have, even though you had previously decided that you had no interest in all the stress that comes with party planning. (Hear that ominous laughter?)

2. Spend the next two days calling party venues.

3. Discover that they're all ludicrously expensive, with the exception of one place. Luckily, it was the place you wanted all along: bonus!

4. Discover that the non-ludicrously expensive place is booked on your child's birthday. Schedule the party for a week later, reasoning that the weather is more likely to cooperate later in the month anyway. (There's that darn ominous laughter again.)

5. Send out Evites. Check email obsessively to see who RSVP's.

6. Gather party favors, plates, napkins, silverware, etc--all themed towards the chosen location (in this case, a farm.)

7. Check the weather forecast. Discover that the deluge is coming. Panic because farms? Yeah, they're OUTDOORS.

8. Decide that you'll just have it as planned and bring a raincoat and if people don't want to come, that's their loss. Realize the SHEER STUPIDITY of that plan because it will leave you soaking wet on a damn FARM with six pizzas, a barnyard cake, and no guests. And the animals probably won't even come out in the rain. And your sweet two-year-old's birthday party will be ruined AND THE WORLD WILL PROBABLY END.

9. Spend the morning calling every indoor party place within a 25 mile radius. Discover that they're STILL ludicrously expensive, but now you're desperate. Be laughed at by most of the people who answer their phone because NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND tries to book a party place with less than 48 hours notice. Be informed that the only available time is at 6 pm. Be laughed at again when you say you need it for 10 am. Apparently, 10 am is prime party time for the under-5 set. WHO KNEW?

10. Find a place with an opening at 10 am. Say, "Hallelujah," and give them your credit card number as they prattle on about extra this and add-on that. Send out the updated Evites and hope that people see the changes in time. Check email obsessively to check for new RSVP's. Decide that next year, you have NO INTEREST in all the stress that comes with party planning.

Frustration

2011-05-11T20:44:00.000-04:00

Every day, a hundred times a day, Luke asks Other Baby if he wants something. "Other Baby, want this firetruck?" "Other Baby, want some juice?" "Other Baby, want to go to playground?" Etc.

But as much as Luke and Other Baby love each other, they're also really great at annoying each other. Other Baby, for his part, is fast. Really, really fast. And Luke announces his intentions about 20 seconds before he starts moving to accomplish said intentions, so the following scene repeats itself approximately eighty times a day:

Luke: Guk want that red block.
Other Baby: *Drops whatever he's doing and gets the red block* MY block!
Luke: No! My block!
Other Baby: My block!
Luke: My block!

...you get the idea. Luke then spends the next ten minutes or so offering Other Baby every other toy on the universe and Other Baby responds by clutching the red block and saying, "My block," one-hundred-and-eleventy times.

Today, after this scene had been re-played over and over all day, Luke finally decided that he'd had enough.

Luke: Other Baby, want this firetruck?
Other Baby: MY block!
Luke: Other Baby, want this airplane?
Other Baby: MY block!
Luke: Other Baby, want this book?
Other Baby: MY block!
Luke: Other Baby, want Guk bite you?

Is it wrong that I laughed?

Shakori 2011!

2011-05-10T16:11:00.000-04:00

We went to a four-day music and camping festival with Other Baby and his parents a couple of weeks ago. The first couple of days were cold, wet, and generally miserable, but once the sun made an appearance, a good time was had by all, particularly the toddlers.

Hanging out in the sun
Luke and Other Baby snacking on the wagon:

Big smiles!

Even in the rain, camping is fun. (Says Luke. I disagree. Mightily.)

Blowing small bubbles.

Blowing BIG bubbles!
Sticks and mud: the perfect toddler toys!

Hammock-ing. And in case you were wondering, the red stuff on his face is ketchup.

I think they were both trying to stake a claim to the toy car. Very serious business, as you can see by the looks on their faces.

What's a music festival if you don't dance a little?
He's eating ice...and being weird.

Birthday Trip to the Zoo

2011-05-09T15:45:00.000-04:00

Here are some pictures from the zoo.

Here's Luke at the beginning of the day. He seems to have perfected his, "I'm too cool for this," look.

There was a helicopter. Of COURSE he had to sit in the helicopter.

And of course, he had to sit on the head of the bronze rhino.

...And pick it's nose...

"Let's go THIS way!"

Taking a short break with Dada.

Just because...

Ta-da! I'm on a bee! The otters were his favorite. Every time they swam by, he squealed and laughed and then asked for more.We weren't going fast enough, apparently.

After all that, is it any wonder that this is how he ended the day?

Random Pictures

2011-05-08T15:30:00.008-04:00

Time for the picture post(s). Today, we have a set of random pictures from the past 3 months.

Now that he falls asleep by himself, we've been finding him asleep in some strange places. One of his favorites is the Moses basket he used to sleep in as a newborn.

I like the juxtaposition of the monkey pj's and the banana, don't you?

On the morning of his birthday, I tried to show him how to hold up two fingers to show how old he was. The result?

We decided to wait to get his "big" birthday present until after his party next weekend, so on his birthday, we gave him something small. Looking...

See how excited he was about his new books? (Which is odd, considering how much he loves books...)

Apparently, the bag was much more intriguing.

Terrific Two!

2011-05-07T20:37:00.003-04:00

I can hardly believe that Luke turned two today. At random moments throughout the day, I've looked at my watch and thought, "At this time two years ago, I was doing ____." It's amazing what a difference two years makes. It seems like he's been around forever and at the same time, it seems like I blinked and he went from being brand new to being a sassy, crazy two-year-old.

So what's Luke like at two? Predictably, he likes to climb and run and spin in circles and dance. Not so predictably, he also likes to clean. He'd spend all day reading, given half the chance, and one of his favorite places to go is the library. He has developed a new found affection for stuffed animals, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he brings an assortment of kangaroos and dogs and frogs into our bed with him and then, we get to spend the rest of the night rolling on said animals--not such a big deal until you happen to roll onto the elephant, which plays an annoyingly shrill version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

He's still pretty mellow for his age, but every day, a little bit more of the two-year-old comes shining through. His current favorite words are "No," and "Mine," and his most-used phrase is "I'm do it!" Of course, "I'm do it," frequently turns into "Mama help Guk," when the task at hand becomes more frustrating than he'd expected. He's developed a well-tuned whine, so we spend lots of time practicing nice voices, but often, when I ask him to repeat a request in a nice voice, he whispers it inaudibly and grins at me.

And of course, he has attitude up to his ears. He's pretty convinced he knows everything there is to know about the world and that his way is absolutely the right way. His birthday party isn't until next weekend, so to celebrate his actual birthday, we took him to the zoo, where the following conversation occurred:

McMoose: Look, see the baboons?
Luke: Yes!
McMoose: What do baboons say?
Luke: They go boom!
McMoose: Noooo...they go "Ooh-ooh-ooh!"
Luke, looking annoyed: They do NOT go "Ooh-ooh." They are baBOOMS. They go BOOM!

In Need Of Assistance

2011-05-02T15:26:00.003-04:00

My ridiculous body has failed me yet again. Well, not so much failed ME as failed the glucose screening. Which means I get to do the 3-hour glucose test. Again. Last time, that didn't go so well and I'm hoping for a lot less drama this time. However, the scheduling process? Not going so well.

I don't think I fully appreciated just how easy it was to schedule tests and doctor's appointments during my last pregnancy, when all I had to worry about was my (very flexible) and McMoose's (slightly less flexible) work schedules. Now, not only do I have to continue to work with McMoose's work schedule, but I also have to work around meals, naps, and Other Baby's grandmother's schedule since she very kindly takes care of him while I'm at my appointments. (My mind boggles to imagine taking TWO toddlers to my midwife appointments. BOGGLES.)

So I called to schedule my appointment and the conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi, I'm calling to schedule the 3-hour GD test.
Receptionist: Oh, we do a 1-hour one first.
Me: Yes. I know. I already took that one.
Receptionist: And did you pass?
Me, wondering WHY ON EARTH I'd want to take the 3-hour one if I'd passed the 1-hour one: Um...no...
Receptionist: Ok, you'll need to schedule the 3-hour test then.
Me: Yes...I know...That's...why I'm...calling...Can I come in tomorrow?
Receptionist: Sure! What time of day would you like to come in?
Me: As early as possible.
Receptionist: Oh. That might be a problem. Could you come in the afternoon?
Me: Well...I'm supposed to stop eating at midnight the night before, right?
Receptionist: Yes.
Me: So then, no, I don't think I'll make it until the AFTERNOON.

Really? REALLY? Could this process possibly be more complicated?

Brotherly Love

2011-04-29T13:44:00.003-04:00

Luke has been talking about Hopper a lot recently, and not always in a complimentary way...

Me: Luke, is your diaper wet?
Luke: No. Guk dry. Hopper wet.

Me: Time to go night-night!
Luke: Guk play a bit more. Hopper go night-night.

Luke: Mama got an ouchy! *Points to the band-aid on my arm*
Me: Yes, you're right, Mama has an ouchy.
Luke: Guk push Mama?
Me: No, Luke didn't push Mama.
Luke: Guk no push Mama. Hopper push Mama!

Luke: Guk want more stickers.
Me: You already have seven stickers. Why do you need more?
Luke: Hopper got ouchy. Hopper need stickers. Guk give Hopper more stickers?
**Of course, the catch with this last one is that once I hand him more stickers, he decides that Hopper is no longer ouchy and keeps the stickers for himself.

Luke: Guk has brown hair!
Me: That's right. And what color is Mama's hair?
Luke: Black!
Me: Yup. And what about Dada?
Luke: Brown!
Me: What color hair do you think Hopper will have?
Luke: Hopper have BLUE hair! Hopper have INDIGO hair! Hopper have red, orange, yellow, green, indigo hair!
**McMoose has been practicing the colors of the rainbow with him, and apparently, I'm gestating a clown.

Lethargy

2011-04-28T14:20:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was a fabulous day. Really, really wonderful. The toddler was happy and well-behaved. We weren't rushed in any way. I got to take a nap. The house was clean.

Today? There are 17 million Duplo blocks scattered across the living room floor. Couch cushions have been flung into the hallway. A stuffed bear is tragically hanging from a basketball hoop and appears to be leaking stuffing through a bite-wound in his neck. And the apartment is 80 billion degrees because our AC has been broken since, oh, last August or so.

I'm sitting here, wondering why we're paying ludicrous amounts in rent if we can't even count on being able to keep the apartment at a comfortable temperature. I'm wondering how it's possible for two small children to wreck an entire apartment over the course of a morning. And I'm wondering whether the lumpy thing I'm sitting on is a blanket or a cat.

(Lack of) Logic

2011-04-26T13:59:00.004-04:00

McMoose: That pineapple fell on the floor. That means it's trash now.
Luke: That means it's NOT trash now. It's FOOD.

Me: Luke, don't touch the toilet water!
Luke: There's no poo-poo in there. It's clean right now.

Luke: Other Baby want this firetruck?
Other Baby: No.
Luke: Other Baby! Want this firetruck?
Other Baby: No!
Luke, wrestling Other Baby down and shoving the firetruck into this hands: Other Baby WANT THIS FIRETRUCK?
Other Baby: Yes.

Luke, pointing to a goose: Duck!
Me: That's a goose.
Luke: That. Is. A. Duck. Actually. Goes quack-quack. It's duck.

Me: Luke, do you hear the rain outside?
Luke: Shh.
Me: Um...did you just shush me?
Luke: SHHHHH! No more talk, Mama! Guk want hear thunder.

26 Weeks

2011-04-25T12:36:00.004-04:00

There's always a certain "sizing up" that happens when moms run into other parents with kids who look to be the same age as their own. Most of the time, the icebreaker that I use (and hear) most often on the playground is, "How old is your child?" And I've noticed that it happens during pregnancy too--when I see another pregnant woman, we both take a look at each others' belly and try to figure out how far along the other one is in comparison to ourselves.

I had one of those moments today when I took Luke and Other Baby to the park. There was another mom there with her daughter and she looked about as pregnant as I am. Or so I thought...

OtherMom: When are you due?
Me: The end of July.
OtherMom: ...Oh...I thought you looked closer to me...
Me: When are you due?
OtherMom: Yesterday.

I'm choosing to believe that she just looked really fabulous for being a day past her expected due date (which she totally did), because the alternative? The one that has me looking like I'm nine months pregnant instead of six? That alternative scares me kind of a lot because WHAT WILL I LOOK LIKE IN THREE MONTHS???

Growing Pains

2011-04-19T13:44:00.004-04:00

This morning, Luke was frustrated about a toy not doing what he wanted and instead of throwing it across the room, he said, "Ay-ay-ay! Goodness!" And later, on our way home from lunch, he informed me that it was hot in the car and I should turn on the a/c. It made me pause for a minute because...when did he get big? I get so caught up in the day-to-day of being his Mama that sometimes, of celebrating the firsts, that I forget that along with the firsts come a lot of lasts.

It wasn't so long ago that when we were having a rough day, I'd put on some music, settle Luke on one hip and Other Baby on the other, and we'd all dance like crazy. It wasn't so long ago that the three of us went to an indoor bouncy playspace and I could get all three of us up the ladders and down the slides with no problem. This morning, when I took Luke, I was informed that "Pregnancy is not allowed" on the bounce houses. And after I'm done being pregnant, I'll have a newborn, and if pregnancy isn't allowed, I'm guessing newborns are really, really not allowed and soon, Luke won't even need help going up those ladders. Was the last time I went down a bounce house slide with him really the last time?

I Quit

2011-04-15T13:18:00.003-04:00

I started this morning eagerly. It was bright and sunny and I knew we had a fun day planned, so I didn't moan about getting out of bed. I didn't whine about how I could've used an extra 20 minutes of sleep. I was on top of things.

And then, while I showered, Luke started hitting Other Baby with a toy car, while saying, "No hit Other Baby, Guk. That make Other Baby ouchy! No give Other Baby ouchy." (Um...dude...if you KNOW that you're not supposed to hit AND you know WHY you're not supposed to hit...WHY ARE YOU HITTING???) So I hopped out of the shower, took the toy, and hopped back in, as Luke started wailing for his car. Then, Other Baby took a ball from Luke's hand and Luke retaliated by sitting on Other Baby, which resulted in more wailing from both of them. And then, Other Baby re-retaliated by biting Luke's finger. ALL IN THE COURSE OF A 10 MINUTE SHOWER. I mean, really?! So after I had hopped out of the shower for the seventh time to break up a skirmish, I decided that I was clean enough, so we just moved right along to breakfast instead.

Of course, in the midst of all the chaos, I completely forgot that Luke was in underwear instead of a diaper, so I didn't remind him to go potty. I realized my mistake when I saw him running around, clutching his pants, which is what he does...right AFTER he pees in them. A quick clothing change later, we settled down to our (cold, soggy) breakfast, and then headed out for the morning.

As we were walking down the stairs, I realized I didn't have extra diapers, but figured that we'd pick some up at the dollar store, where we were stopping for some plastic Easter eggs for the egg hunt we were all so looking forward to. Did you know the dollar store carries clothes, but not diapers? When I asked, I was told that diapers were too expensive to be sold for a dollar...and yet, I can pick up a 3-pack of tube socks, no problem.

We were just about to leave the store when Other Baby reached out of the cart to grab something, and ended up pulling down an entire Easter display. We quickly apologized, paid for our things, and made a dash for the exit as the store employees glared at us.

Finally, we got to the park, where I ended up borrowing a diaper because I suspected that Other Baby smelled less than pleasant. And there, at the park bathroom, I had the distinction of changing THE WORST DIAPER ever. Meanwhile, Luke was peeking under the stalls and cheerfully saying, "Hi!" to everyone who was trying to pee.

We spent all of 3 minutes picking up Easter eggs, and then, I encouraged the kids to play on the playground for a bit, in the hopes that they might burn off some energy. Instead, Luke climbed up to the highest slide there and then proceeded to freak out because he was on the highest slide there. So I put down the Easter baskets and diaper bag, instructed Other Baby to kindly stay where I could see him, and climbed up the ladder to get to Luke, who was now in the middle of the biggest fit I've ever seen from him. Of course, as soon as Other Baby realized I was not right beside him, he started freaking out too.

So there I was, standing on a horribly designed piece of playground equipment (come on, engineers...the only ways up or down were a ladder or a slide? Surely, other parents have had to rescue wailing toddlers from the top of this dumb thing before and having a discreet set of STAIRS would work wonders for this purpose!), one shrieking toddler in my arms, another attempting to climb up the ladder to get to me, and parents giving me The Eye. In the end, the only way to get off that awful thing was to put (ok, push) Luke down the slide, as he continued screaming and freaking out and then quickly climb down the ladder.

Meanwhile, Other Baby had decided that he was on a mission to find his way to us, so he had climbed up the opposite side of the play structure and as he climbed, he was sobbing, "Mama! Mama! Maaamaaa!" I finally convinced him to come to an opening so I could get him, and with a toddler perched precariously on each rapidly shrinking hip, I asked another parent to please hand me my bag and Easter baskets so I could get the kids back to the car with some vestige of decency.

And then, as I was trying to get them out to the car, my (idiotic, elastic-waist) pants fell down.

Conversations From Today

2011-04-11T14:29:00.002-04:00

Me: Luke, do you want a banana?
Luke: Indeed!

Me: Do NOT hit Other Baby with the hammer!
Luke: No hammer Other Baby. Other Baby nice, isn't it?
Me: Yes, Other Baby is nice.
Luke: Guk nice too. Mama nice too.
Me: Yes, that's right. How about Dada?
Luke: Dada AWESOME!

Luke, pointing to our neighbor's door: White dog live there!
Me: Yes, the white dog does live there. He's big, isn't he?
Luke: Biiiiiig white dog. Make biiiiiig poo-poo.

Me: Luke, do you want one piece of sandwich or two?
Guk: Want one...two...eight, nine, ten!

Small Bed

2011-04-10T08:49:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, we did something stupid: we kept a toddler out at a Frog Festival too late and then missed his naptime by two hours. We frequently miss naptime by an hour, so I figured it would be no big deal. Turns out, it was. So there was fussing and yelling and screeching and general displeasure, after which he zonked out and slept for THREE hours. Which means he woke up at 6 pm. Which means he went back to sleep at, oh, 11 pm. And since MY bedtime is also 11 pm, I thought we'd be all economical and just combine the two and he could go to bed WITH me.

Me: Luke, guess what!
Luke: Guess what!
Me: Do you want to sleep in the BIG bed with Mama tonight?
Luke: NO! Guk sleep small bed!
Me: Um. But Mama's tired. How about the big bed?
Luke: No big bed right now.
Me: But I can read to you in the big bed. I can SING to you and pat you.
Luke: Sleep small bed this morning. [As an aside, this child has two reference points for time: this morning and last night. So everything that has ever happened or will ever happen in his life happened last night or this morning.]

Finally, after lots of cajoling and promising to sing the baby song and the crocodile song and reading an extra book, he agreed to sleep in the big bed.

Can I just say that right now, I'm feeling a little bitter about all those people who told me, when he was a newborn, that if we started down the co-sleeping path, he'd NEVER leave our bed and I'd have to move to a Super 8 Motel in 12 years because of the very large man-child in my bed? Clearly, they're talking about some OTHER child because mine has to be bribed and tricked into co-sleeping for one measly night.

Socializing for Dummies

2011-04-06T18:18:00.003-04:00

Situation One
If you ask a visibly pregnant woman when she's due and she tells you her due date, appropriate responses include:

Congratulations!

That's it. That. Is. All. Not-so-appropriate responses include:

Oh, wow, you've still got a while to go. (Yes. I have four months. Thank you for pointing that out.)
Really? You look farther along than that. (Again, thank you for what I am sure is your very expert opinion.)
Your baby must be pretty big! (No. My baby is 23 weeks along. Therefore, by definition, my baby is pretty darn SMALL at the moment, unless you consider a pound, give or take a few ounces, to be huge.)
Oh, it's miserable being pregnant in the middle of summer. (Thank you for that highly positive word of encouragement.)
Hope your AC works because that'll be rough! (My AC works fine. Which is more than I can say for your BRAIN.)

Situation Two
If you ask a visibly pregnant mother of a son whether she's having a boy or a girl and she tells you WITH A SMILE that it's a boy, appropriate responses include:

Congratulations!

Again, that's it. Inappropriate responses include:

Two boys! That'll be a lot to handle! (Um...I'm handling two boys for large portions of the day already, thank-you-very-much.)
Well, you'll just have to try again for a princess. (Because (a) if this baby had been a girl, I wouldn't have been allowed to "try again?" And (b) how about if I "try again" for a computer nerd or a math genius or a gamer or a musician or a philosopher or a dancer or an animal lover or any number of things that my child could choose to be, regardless of gender?)
Aww, were you disappointed? (Uh...I *just* met you five minutes ago. Do you really think that you're the person I'd confide my innermost thoughts to?)
My sister's boss's best friend's cousin's daughter had two-hundred-and-forty-three boys and they finally had to do IVF to get a girl. (Really? They had to? Someone was holding a gun to their head? Huh.)

Addicted

2011-03-31T14:58:00.003-04:00

When I was pregnant with Luke, I was excited about a lot of things, but I was especially excited about the birth. Not just the getting to meet the baby part, but the actual labor part. I just kind of wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

So now, I know. And since I do know, one would think that this time, I'd be utterly unexcited about the labor, right? Yeah. Not so much. If possible, I'm even more excited this time around because of what I know from the last time.

I mean, granted it was painful and there were moments when I thought that I was stuck in a time loop and that the universe was going to implode and I'd still be stuck in the stupid time loop. I'm not even joking, there were multiple times when I had THAT EXACT THOUGHT run through my head. But? It was also kind of amazing.

In the midst of all the ridiculous, never-ending pain, there were moments when I felt like--and this is going to sound kind of...absurd...but just go with me for a second--a spiritual being. I know. I can't believe I just typed that. But there were moments when my mind was bigger than my body, when I felt like I had transcended time and space, when I was in my body, but also looking at myself from outside my body. People were in the room, and then, they weren't. I was in the chair, and then, I was in the tub. Time stopped flowing continuously and instead jumped around, stopped, went backwards, sped up, and I was just along for the ride. I imagine that's what an acid trip might feel like, except that I didn't have to break any laws or use any drugs to get there.

I have 18-ish weeks until I get to go there again and honestly, I can't wait. I'm an addict and my drug of choice is birth.

Mission Accomplished

2011-03-30T14:24:00.003-04:00

For about a month now, McMoose has been "reminding" me to print out a copy of my credit report, so that when we get around to applying for a home loan later this year, we won't be met with any ugly surprises. Two of the three credit reporting agencies were fabulous and spewed out page after page of information about every financial decision I've made in the past 10 years or so. I mean, stuff that I didn't even remember about my own credit history was in there. But then, there was the third agency. According to them, they were unable to verify my existence, so I'd have to find another way to get my credit report. Mind you, they gave me no clue what this "other way" was, so apparently, it was supposed to be a little challenge--find our phone number and you will have proven yourself worthy of knowing YOUR OWN credit history.

As challenges go, it was a pretty pitiful one, so I called them today. The interaction with an automated system went something like this:

System: Welcome to CreditReportingAgency. You can obtain your free, annual report by entering your zip code, social security number, birth date, and the numerical portion of your address. Are you visually impaired? Please press 1 if you are and 2 if you are not.
Me, unsure why it would matter if I were VISUALLY impaired, since this was a PHONE call: *2*
System: Please enter your zip code.
Me: *Enter zip code*
System: Please enter your social security number.
Me: *Enter social security number*
System: Please enter your eight digit date of birth.
Me: *Enter date of birth*
System: Please enter the numerical portion of your address.
Me: *Enter numerical portion*
System: Would you like to order your credit score for an additional $7? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.
Me: *2*
System: Your credit score is important for reasons x, y, and z. Would you like to order your credit score? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.
Me: *2!!!*
System: Would you like to enroll for a free membership in blah-blah-blah? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.
Me: *2*
System: Are you sure? It's a FREE membership, with no obligation if you cancel within 30 days. It's useful for reasons x, y, z. And for reasons a, b, c. Oh, and for reasons l, m, n, o, and p. Now would you like to enroll for a free membership? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.
Me: *2!!!!!!*
System: Please expect your credit report in one week. Good-bye.

How is it that the automated phone system knew, with some very basic information about me, EXACTLY who I was AND where I lived, but the online system was "unable to verify?"