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?

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?!

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."

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.

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:

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.

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?