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.

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!

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.

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.