Didn't I just write the six month post? And here already, Weston is seven months old!
This past month has seen great advances in mobility. He crawls everywhere now and can get across the house pretty quickly. Thus ends the blissful period when I could put him down and trust that he'd stay in relatively the same spot. He goes after computer cords, cats, carpet fuzz, and his brother's toys. Especially his brother's toys. This, of course, is leading to some friction, but Luke is starting to learn that if he wants to be left alone, he either needs to move his toys up where Weston can't reach them or distract Weston with something else. Yesterday, we were outside and I put him down so he could explore the grass and the driveway and when I picked him back up, I realized that he had his first ever rough spots on his feet from being on the driveway--the first, bittersweet sign of all the growing up he's going to be doing soon.
He has pulled up and gotten himself on his feet a couple of times, too, but he gets too ambitious, lets go, and topples over. In fact, toppling over has been a repeated theme around here. His forehead seems to always have a red spot because he bumps into EVERYTHING! Door frame? Check. Bed post? Check. Washing machine? Check. And I cringe to admit this, but earlier this week, he crawled off the bed. Ack! He cried for a minute, tops, and then was fine, but it scared me to death and as a result, a new, cockamamie sleeping plan has been hatched. In addition to our lovely, comfy, king-sized bed AND Weston's crib, there is now a futon mattress on the floor of our room so as to maximize the sleeping options available to us--as you can imagine, our room is getting pretty crowded! But in the end, the fact remains that I have no desire to fight sleep battles. Nope. He'll figure it out eventually and until then, we'll snuggle up on a futon on the floor.
And speaking of sleep, we've reached some major sleep milestones: (1) being able to fall asleep without being nursed or rocked; and (2) being able to STAY asleep without being held. Ok, so I know that many babies reach these milestones earlier than almost-seven-months, but since I had no interest in fighting the aforementioned sleep battles, I decided to go with the flow instead. (It helps that most of the time, there are few things I'd rather do than hold a sleeping baby. Very, very few.) And the flow has led us to a place where I can lie down with him and sing to him and he'll fall asleep. And to a place where I can then pick him up and put him in his crib and leave the room and DO OTHER THINGS. And while I'm off doing these other things, my arms get just the slightest bit twingy for the feel of a sweet-smelling, sleeping baby.
The other fun thing this month has been watching this baby eat. He has yet to meet a food that he doesn't like. (That being said, earlier this afternoon, he was exploring the front yard and tried tasting a sweet gum ball...apparently, that didn't go as well as he had hoped and the sweet gum ball was quickly tossed away in disgust.) Broccoli continues to be his favorite, but really, he's not particular: if it's even remotely food-like, he'll be happy to eat it. He seems to have a rather odd affinity for asparagus. And beets. There's a mango sitting in our fruit bowl, waiting to be discovered by baby hands.
He is a funny and determined little guy. He has a mind of his own and is quite happy to let you know about it if you don't get with his plan. He shows his love by grabbing onto your face with both hands and biting/sucking on your chin and ckeeks. He has started to recognize my feet, so every time I come into the room, he crawls right to me and headbutts my legs until I pick him up. He frequently likes to hang his head upside down to look at things--apparently, the world looks much more interesting from that angle! All I know is that our lives are certainly more interesting, now that this little one is a part of them.
Showing posts with label Daily. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daily. Show all posts
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Do As I Do
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.
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.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
A Love of Learning
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:
If I had made up a similar plan for today, it would have looked 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.)
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.)
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Chit-Chat
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.
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.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Definitely NOT Every Four Hours
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!
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!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Six!
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.
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.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Comic Relief
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?
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?
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Melting Point
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?!
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?!
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Memories
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."
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."
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Everything
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
December Pictures
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:
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:
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Bedtime Shenanigans
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Wither Shall They Wander?
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?
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?
Saturday, December 24, 2011
In The Interest Of Catching Up...
...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!
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!
Friday, December 23, 2011
Five!
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:
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:
Friday, December 16, 2011
Minding Your Own Business: Fail
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.)
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.)
Sunday, December 11, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Pants on Fire
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.
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.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Handmade With Love
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?
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?
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Crib Experiment: Fail
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.
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.
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