Birthday Pictures

Ever since Luke was tiny, we've been going to portrait studios to have professional pictures done every so often and for the most part, we were pretty happy with the quality of pictures we got. But then, our favorite studio closed and the one we started going to instead was just a little bit disappointing. So since the boys' birthdays are just two months apart, we decided that we should just do a combined birthday session halfway between their birthdays so that we could justify the cost of an independent photographer. Of course, "halfway through" became "just before Weston's birthday," but in any case, we had them done by a local photographer and I am loving the results. This post is a total photo dump, but hey, they're lovely, no? (These pictures were taken by three seventeen photography.)

Minions

Lately, one of Luke's favorite things to do is...laundry. The other day, I offered to take him to the park and he was all, "Yes, but do you remember that we're supposed to do the laundry today?" And so, we stayed home on a beyond beautiful day doing laundry. Little oddball.

Now, since I'm always looking for opportunities to pass my chores off to other people, I decided this would be a great time to get him a hamper of his very own. So now, he's in charge of telling me when it's getting full and of bringing it out to the landing. But of course, he's not content to stop there, no. He has decided that this is His Chore and he will do it to the best of His Ability. Which means that he has to turn all the knobs on the washing machine to set the water flowing. And he has to pour the detergent himself. And he has to load the clothes. And when the washer is done, he has to transfer the clothes. (Since we have a top-loader, I am allowed to help him get the clothes out of the washer. This was a hard-won victory for me because I did not appreciate dangling him over the washer so he could retrieve them himself.) He has to clean the lint trap and program the dryer. And his latest obsession? Folding and putting away his clothes.

I gotta say, I'm enjoying this very much. And all of Luke's enthusiasm for laundry seems to be rubbing off on Weston, who now insists on helping transfer clothes from washer to dryer and empty the dryer. I wonder what other chores I can talk these two into doing...

Sweet Dreams

Sundays are, quite possibly, the most enjoyable days ever. Not because we do anything super exciting, mind you, but because most of the time, I make myself take a nap on Sundays. (This seems to imply that I don't nap on other days, which isn't strictly true. On other days, I weigh how tired I am against what else I have/want to do during naptime and decide which would be a better use of my time. On Sundays, I nap regardless of tiredness or what else is on my to-do list.)

Today, we had a productive morning of catching up on chores and then went out to a yummy Thai restaurant for lunch. As luck would have it, there was a kids' consignment sale going on in a store beside the restaurant, so we went there and found some much-needed winter things for the boys. By this time, it was well past naptime, so we headed home and the kids and I all took a nap, which started at about 4...and lasted until 8! So. What happens when you have two kids who take a four-hour nap and wake up at 8 pm? Why, you end up with two kids who are bouncing off the walls until midnight, obvs.

I had a ton of laundry to fold and had no patience to lie there with Weston while he rolled around and talked to the walls, so instead, I put him in the crib, turned on some music, and folded the laundry beside him. And he was mostly okay, so when I was done with that, I decided to sit down and check my email, which was sending me nasty thoughts because of the 128 unread emails that were languishing in there. (128 unread emails in 3 days. In WHAT universe is that remotely necessary? Damn listservs and facebook notifications.) And here I sit, still on the computer, listening to meditation music and the sound of a snoring baby. A snoring baby who fell asleep in the crib. By himself. Ah, I knew this day would come, but considering that the first time Luke fell asleep without help, he was fast approaching his second birthday, I didn't think it would come quite so soon. I wonder if I can re-create this situation tomorrow, but at a more decent bedtime.

Moo

I have been trying not to do "things Luke says" posts back-to-back because I wanted this blog to have an identity other than just cute kid stuff, but...yeah, I think that ship has long past sailed. So. Cute things Luke has said recently...

McMoose: See you later, Alligator.
Luke: See you later, Alligator.
McMoose: No, I say "See you later, alligator," and you say, "After a while, Crocodile." Ok?
Luke: Ok.
McMoose: See you later, Alligator!
Luke: Bye, Cow!

The kids and I were getting ready to leave the house and I had to go back to the dining room to get my keys and fill a water bottle. My dining room is approximately 12 steps away from the front door and as I was getting the keys, I hear the door start to open.

Me: Luke? Are you opening that door?
Luke: Yes. I can do it.
Me: I know you can, but don't. I don't want Weston leaving this house without me.
Luke: It's okay, Mama.
Me: Lucas! Do not let him out.
Luke: Don't worry, Mama. I can control him. *4 seconds later:* Mama! Mama! I can't control him! I can't control him!

(I wouldn't have been nearly so laissez-faire about the whole thing if I had even the slightest fear that Weston would actually get out of the house. There's a stair there and although he's very adept at stairs in general, something about that one freaks him out and he inches his toes ever so slowly across the threshold, so left to his own devices, it takes him a good five minutes to get out that door.)

 

Flea-Mangoes

Luke: Mama! I see a flea-mango!
Me: A what?
Luke: A flea-mango!
Me: A...flea...mango?!
Luke: No, that's not what I said. I said 'Flea-mango!"
Me: Ok. I'm not understanding you.
Luke: A flea-mango! A FLEA-MANGO! Look. *Shows me a picture of an ostrich*
Me: That would be an ostrich.
Luke: A what?! What do you mean, an ostrich?!
Me: I mean that the picture you're pointing to is an ostrich.
Luke: Well, how do you spell that?
Me: O...S...T...R...I...C...H
Luke: Ok, then, how do you spell flea-mango?
Me: Still don't understand that word.
Luke: FLEA-MANGO. It's a BIRD. That is PINK. FLEA. MANGO.
Me: ...Are you trying to say flamingo?
Luke: That's what I've BEEN SAYING THIS WHOLE TIME!

No Time for Einstein

Before having kids, the thing that terrified me the most about being a parent was the sleep deprivation. Hands down, I had no interest in it. Now that I'm running on about four years of interrupted nights (because yes, pregnancy insomnia counts as sleep deprivation, too,) I've come to realize that sleep deprivation, I can handle. You know what I can't handle? PRESCHOOLS.

We've been having discussions about all our schooling options, and since we have to start registering for preschool in January, I figured it would be nice to have some idea of which ones sounded interesting to us. Except that then, I started reading some potential preschools' websites, and I have now had a headache for the past three days. Do three-year-olds really need formal curricula? With vocabulary charts and technology training?

Here is a list of words and phrases that I've been seeing a lot of on these websites:
-Training
-Skill-level
-Some sensory play included when relevant (*Head. Exploding.*)
-Literacy in math, science, and social studies
-Vocabulary charts
-Journal writing (Wait. What?!)
-Technology Center

Here are some words and phrases that I would LIKE to see, but haven't been finding as much:
-Explore
-Create
-Dance
-Pretend
-Music
-DAILY sensory play
-Large motor activity
-Discover
-Read!!!

Why is the first list emphasized and the second list devalued? At what point did we start worrying about the skill level that our three-year-olds exhibit in math and science and social studies? I don't want there to be a "book of the month," I want there to be a well-stocked reading corner and teachers who have the time and inclination to sit and read with children, even when it's not officially story time. I'm not interested in "some sensory play when relevant," because they're three. It's ALWAYS relevant. And in my book, at this age, being outside always, always trumps time spent at the "Technology Center." I want them to put on puppet shows and learn how to tell a story and practice taking turns. I want them to discover how much pressure they need to put on their clay to mold it just right. I want them to jump and run and twirl and play instruments and come home exhausted and happy, with paint and mud on their clothes.  That isn't too much to ask for...is it?

Summer Camp

Luke is going to camp this week. That seems like a normal sentence, doesn't it? Kids go to camp all the time. Except that in this case, it's not just camp, it's also the first time he has ever been in a group situation without me or McMoose along. I mean, we've left him with friends and baby-sitters and grandparents in the past, but this is, like, real life. He's having these experiences and making connections and memories that we're not involved in. For the first time ever. It's kinda crazy.

So to prepare him, we mentioned it in passing for the past couple of weeks. Most of the time, his response was that he was excited about snack time, but not so thrilled about the prospect of being Mama-less for a few hours. And on Sunday night, I managed to freak myself out about it because--what if he hated it? What if he had zero interest in being left there? What if he cried and screamed when I tried to leave? What if, what if, what if? Of course, knowing my kid, I knew that the most likely scenario was that he'd get quiet, stand really close to me, refuse to talk to other adults, but probably not make a huge scene when I said good-bye. Turns out that I do know him pretty well because as I predicted, he looked suspiciously around, refused to talk to the counselors, asked me for several hugs and kisses, and then watched me with a frown as I told him I'd be back at lunchtime and left. No tears. No tantrum. So of course, I spent the morning dying of curiosity because--what happens in a camp at a visual and performing arts place, anyway? Luckily for me, Luke was willing to tell me all about it.

Me: Did you have a favorite part?
Luke: Yes--DANCING! Dancing was my best part of camp!
Me: Cool!
Luke: But. I did NOT like it when you left.
Me: You didn't?
Luke: No. It made me sad.
Me: Did you cry?
Luke: Yes.
Me: Did the counselors see you crying?
Luke: No. I cried quietly.
Me, with my heart breaking: So what made you stop crying?
Luke: Because...I remembered that we were going to DANCE!

Of course, that was yesterday. Today, when I picked him up, I asked what his favorite thing was again...

Me: Did you have a favorite thing today?
Luke: I liked the art project today.
Me: Oh, what'd you do?
Luke: I painted a fat fish. A round, fat fish. Like a circle. But today, I did not like the dancing.
Me: You didn't?
Luke: No. They asked me to do silly things. They asked my friends to do silly things.
Me, knowing Luke's disdain for "silly things": Uh...what kinds of silly things?
Luke: They asked me to boom like a firework...and crawl like a bug...and moo like a cow.
Me: Oh. And did you?
Luke: No. I am NOT a cow.

I don't think he completely believes me when I tell him that parents aren't allowed to come to camp:
Luke: There were other moms there again today.
Me: There were?
Luke: Yes, they stayed there the whole time.
Me: I didn't see any moms there, Luke.
Luke, using a tone that suggested that I might be the dimmest bulb in the chandelier: Well, Mama...that's because YOU were at HOME.


So between the dancing and the painting and the slime making (What brave souls these counselors are!) it sounds like a good time is being had by all.