At least he's not smearing sh*t on the walls

Things Milo could be doing with his stubborn, high-spirited nature during these times of intense life changes:

1) breaking things

2) punching people

3) making himself throw up

4) launching food and overturning dinner plates

5) marking his territory with urine

6) stashing, storing, smearing, or otherwise playing with his own excrement

7) sneaking out and getting drunk with the guys... 

8) hooking up with the loose girls at day care

9) making fake IDs with my iPhone

10) having nightmares, really falling apart...

I guess an occasional 2 hour bedtime show-down is small potatoes. 

At first, I thought it was standard stalling and tried to be firm. But 30 mins in (20 mins after his older brother had started snoring), I stopped focusing on getting what I wanted and just started rummaging through drawers for a white flag to wave...

When he sat on the top stair, twinkled his non-tired eyes, rested his full, puffy cheeks in his not-so-tiny hands and answered my, "You are going to bed right now" with:

"No.  I'm not."  Then he got quieter:  "I. Am. Not...   Not going to bed...   Not tonight."
Then he looked at me, with pity and exhaled: "no. I'm not."

Serious as a heart attack.

People, I know when I'm beat.  My mama did NOT raise a fool.  I'm all about being the adult - "the parent" and setting limits.  But it was the calm in his eyes- like the sea in a glossy travel brochure; it was his non agitated, purposeful stare...

And as Yoda- oops, I mean - JAKE told me earlier today, "Mommy, do you know the secret to beating your enemies?  Make them your friends."

"Okay," I told my curly haired challenger, "If you're not going to bed, come down here and and help me clean up.  You can start by cleaning up your cars."

Trying to get them to bed early on transition day, I had planned to return the 17 die cast metal cars (we counted them aloud 4 times as he parked then in the shape of letters (and one time in the shape of a "mark" that I when I tilted my head a little I realized was a pretty perfect "question mark") away.

When the cars were away, I had him put the couch cushions back and fluff the throw pillows.  Then I told him to go get two books and we read them each - twice.  Then we headed upstairs and drank a small dixie cup of water and as I laid him down, we talked about his day:  The hole he dug in the sand (It was huge)... The sand he put on the slide (even though his teachers told him not to put sand on the slide)... We talked about kindergarten coming up in the fall.

He didn't know that I had already decided I wouldn't even be trying to leave his lower bunk bed until I was dismissed.

Back when I worked in the ICU, I had this little rule, if a patient/or family rang his/her call bell 3 times within 20 minutes, I would pack up my charts and go in there and sit.  I would first see what they needed, and answer their question or request; BUT then I would pull up a chair or desk and sit there yammering and/or charting until the patient and/or family would say something like, "You must have other work you have to do."

When I stopped peppering Milo with questions and the conversation started to lull, I didn't make a move to leave.  I didn't even shift my weight, but still he grabbed my face and whined: "I NEED you." I held my hands over his hands, tight on my cheeks.

"I need you and love you too,"  I replied

"I WANT you."  He pulled me tighter.

"I'm right here."  I kissed both his palms and offered him mine. 

"I ALWAYS need and want you."

"Me too."  More kisses on his hands and arms

"You always... yell at me."  

I laugh.  "I SOME-times yell at you when you don't listen, but I am not yelling right now."

I snuggled in closer. "I'm staying right here until you tell me I should go."

Literally 10 seconds pass.

"When you hear the 'DING' you go.... DING!"  He high-pitched the last word into a flawless, one-toned bell.

"Okay, when I hear that noise, I should go?"

"No.  It ding'd.  You should go now... it already ding'd."

 Now I'm laughing, hard: "Wait... Now? go now???"

"Yes.  You have to. It already Ding'd.  Sorry.  I love you.  Now go."

Bahahahahahahaha!

Seriously, this kid is ridiculous.

You are what you eat

Milo: We're boys.
Mommy: yes
Milo: Im'ma boy and Jakey. We're boys.
Mommy: (thinking I know I'm a 'girl') What am I?
Milo: You're an ADULT.
Mommy: Yes, you are boys and I'm an adult.
Milo: When I'm an adult, I'm gonna drink lots of things...
Mommy: Like what?
Milo: Like coffee...and tea...
Jake: and beer and wine... And soda
Mommy: yes. It's very exciting. When you get bigger, you can have some drinks that kids don't get to have. But every family is different and rules about what kids can have are different in different families.
Jake: Like what?
Mom: Like in some families the kids can have soda. And in our family, the rule is kids can't have soda. And some families don't eat any meat.
Jake (sounding alarmed): BUT WE EAT MEAT!!!???!!!
Mom: Yes, we eat meat, but in some families, the rule is "We don't eat meat."
Jake: But we do... We're carnivores.

Crazy talk and non-sensical rage

Milo's language skills have exploded.
Finally the kid can practically get his point across.  He has so many thoughts and ideas but they are generally not recognizable by English speakers.  Lately though, he is spilling over with impressive vocab and compound sentences.  Today at a red light he told me:

"Red means 'stop' and yellow means 'slow' and green means 'go'."
He has known this for a long time, but could only get out a word at a time. 
"YELLOW!" He'd scream as I blew through an intersection.

At some point in July, the kid was in the back seat of the car and he was stammering and stuttering trying to tell me something very important (perhaps that a tow truck had passed us) and finally he slapped his hands on his knees and shouted, "I'm tryin' TALK-TELL YOU SOMETHING-CAN'T!!!" I felt so bad and fed him a few lines to repeat: "Say, 'There's a red truck.'" He repeated it perfectly. "Say, 'There's a blue car'."  Again, flawless. He nodded at me in what I perceived to be a "Thank you" and calmed down.
 
As I've mentioned, he is somewhat strong-headed and wickedly intelligent, but he can be lazy with pronunciation.  He tends to eliminate "s"s completely.  So when he's asking for one of his favorite songs "Stuck like glue" and he insistently implores, "I WANT UCKLIKEGLUE!!!" I spend the next 45 seconds making him repeat, 'cause I still have nofah king idea what he's saying. 

When i finally figure it out, I"m like, "Milo,  stay 'SSSSssssssstuck'..."
"SSSSssssstuck."
So okay, he can say it.  He just frequently opts out.

Last week he asked Katy, "Did you get that out of the cabinet?" As clear as can be- like that was the most normal thing in the world for a 2 year old to say. 

She looked at me and asked, "Did he just say 'cabinet'?"
"Yes.  Yes he did."

In addition to improving his speech, Milo's been teething for what seems like forever, and drooling and sticking fingers and whatever he can find into his mouth.  "Get your fingers out of your mouth," is my most frequently uttered directive.  In our house (despite two Master's prepared nurses running the show) there is astounding ignorance related to germ theory.  No matter how many times I explain about all of the various nastiness that can be on the bottom of our shoes, I can count on both of my boys to absent-mindedly scan their digits over every square milometer of their sneakers and Crocs, just to pass the time.  Then everyone acts shocked when I'm screaming "GET YER DISGUSTINGLY DIRTY FINGERS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!!!"

Today, I guess Milo was a little sick of my badgering, but he showed me- just skipped the middleman entirely and went right to the source:

Mommy: (unsuccessfully trying to hide her disgust) GET YOUR SHOE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!!!
Milo: NOOOOOOooooooo!!!
Mommy: RIGHT NOW!
Milo: (growling) I'm gonna bite you in the baby room!
Mommy: WHAT?!?
Milo: (mumbling) I'm gonna bite you in the baby room...
Mommy: (softer and in a more serious tone) Milo, we don't threaten to bite people when we are angry...
Milo: YOU ARE DANGEROUS!
Mommy: You have no idea...

The kid is nuts.  But there is nothing I don't love about him.






Comparing how these two watch TV says a lot...

"That's not true!"

We've spent the better part of the last month spinning.  (Not the exercise class...)

Katy's dad was here for almost a week.  Before he arrived and during his time here, Katy was working mostly12 hour shifts to support the Electronic Health Record implementation at her hospital.  At the end of that week, Jake had his dance recital.  Two adorable numbers this year, tap and ballet.

 
During all that, softball started.  Anyone that reads this blog knows how much I look forward to Softball starting.  But truthfully this year, I am not yet mentally prepared to be out of work, kids fed, suited up, and at the field at 6:15pm.  Fortunately, there has been a lot of rain, so we've only played (I think) 3 times in the last 4 weeks.

Last week, Katy's moms came for a little over a week.  They kept the boys out of school, walking and gardening, doing puzzles and coloring and reading... They stayed here for the weekend while we headed out of state for a(n awesome) wedding.

Aside from fairly consistent whining, the boys seem to be doing great... Thriving in the chaos.  They sometimes need 2 or 3 tries- but they seem to get the rules when we remind them: "You can't get what you want if you are whining or crying."  This house rule is for their own personal protection as much as any convenience on my part... I cannot be held responsible for my actions if these jokers can't shake the easy-to-pick-up, hard-to-shake habit of WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYNING.

Milo also has a special gift for completely ignoring us.  If he is doing something we don't want him to, it is no use calling to him or asking him to stop from across the room.  To communicate a correction of some kind, you have to walk right up to him, and usually take his hands or cheeks into yours.  If you don't, he will just act like your voice is inaudible.

He has, though, really turned a corner with his command of the language.  He is speaking so much clearer and trying to say more.  It's been so long that we've been answering every one of his questions or statements with "What did you say? Can you say that again?"  That he's actually started to believe that is a part of regular communication.

"Milo, can you pick up your socks?"  And if he's not ignoring us completely, he will say, "What did you say?  Can you say that again?" While he's in the midst of picking up his socks.  He just thinks it is something you say after someone else talks, like a little British toddler, might say, "jolly good, ol' chap."

Also, he says "no"... A LOT.  And sometimes he gets confused when he means "No" but wants to switch it up, he starts to object like a lawyer:

Me: "Milo, please don't put your hand in your milk."
Him: "THAT'S NOT TRUE!" 
Me: "ORDER IN THE COURT, MATTLOCK!"

It's a funny thing when language develops- trying to piece together not just sounds and definitions, but context and various degrees of emphasis.  I'm like, "Dude, 'that's not true' does not mean the same thing as 'I don't want to'... those phrases are only interchangeable if you are running for public office."

Every day is Mothers' Day

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me.

By "rough" I mean nothing-really-that-bad, but flat out exhausting...

You know that saying, you can have something "fast", you can have it "good", you can have it "cheap" or... you can have any combination of TWO of those, but you cannot have all three?

That little riddle has been popping into my mind in the last few weeks as I have considered my lot in life... And this started scrambling around in my head...

The housework has fallen behind a bit. The house is just- well- not.clean. (I guess that is really the best way to put it.)
I've been trying to keep up with exercise, and I have a huge project underway at work that will span about six weeks (we are 3 weeks in).

I've been doing my best to be a good mom and wife and not knowing the "laws" of this particular species of Venn diagram, I am not sure if more than 3 areas can be sufficiently covered at one time. All I know is I can see the teetering- I feel wobbly. On the days/weeks I feel I am keeping up with my duties at work, exercise habits are hard to maintain... the blog (as you know) is long suffering. The highest priority is of course the family, and you'll have to poll my wife, but I'm not sure how well I'm holding up my end. The madness of parenting a rounding-the-corner-towards-2 year old and a rounding-the-corner-toward-4 year old is as pervasive as mold.

Katy and I marvel every day at the paradoxes inherent the chemical reactions that occur in our brains: The degree to which I adore these ruggies and the simultaneous tension I feel as my time with them stretches the seams of the fibers of my being... At some point in every day, i want to melt from the awesomeness that pours out of their minds and mouths. And invariably, at some point in every day, I want to run screaming from their nonsense...



JB, for example, does a lot of TALKING right now. When he has had the perfect amount of sleep (the formula that determines this magical amount of sleep has not been revealed to me) he is funny, sweet, and adorable. But a lot of the time, he thinks he knows what's what and, he doesn't. And he thinks he's in charge of stuff that he can't possibly control. The most amazing thing about a 3 1/2 year old is how they learn the "tone" that accompanies adult conversation, but the tone is usually empty. Knowing the lingo is only half the game... Kids have no understanding of snark, no comprehension of the multitude of ways that humans intentionally and unintentionally mess with each other. They have learned the words and they mimic the tone, but they have no knowledge of the rules of engagement.

Picture this: A cloudy day. I work 8 or 9 hours and race to the day care to get the ruggies. JB, who at times has difficulty with "transition" tells me he's not ready to leave and he stalls so much that he nearly gets a time out. ML bounds towards me, we walk out the door and before we get to the car he has splashed his way into a large puddle. Soaked, I buckle him in and then buckle in JB. The entire way home, there's a lot of loud yapping and screeching. I have not yet been with my beautiful children for 20 minutes, but I'm already not sure how I will make it through the next 3 hours.

We pull into the driveway and JB sighs loudly: "I hate our house."

Srsly?



I am white-knucking the steering wheel. I can't believe the potency of the feelings I am experiencing. I know logically that I can not take this joker at his word, that I need to have more patience, but pure disgust is like a warm, white fire slowly consuming me. If a fully formed human had said this, I would have been all like:
"WTF is wrong with you?!? WHO says that?!? That is rude and you have a lot of nerve!!! If you dont' like this house, you don't have to live in it!!! Do you have any idea how hard we work to provide you with a shelter this amazing?!?"

Mind you the entire time I am mentally speach-ifying, ML is screeching: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-OOOOOOOHHHHHHH-ooOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAA!

I take a deep breath and ask JB in the most neutral tone I can muster: "Honey, why would you say that?" (inhale, exhale, heart beat, heart beat)

JB: "I don't know, I guess I just wish we could paint the whole thing orange."

[sigh] I'm glad I didn't just go with my first reaction.



ML, on the other hand is an entirely different beast. He is all action for JB's pensiveness. He is determined where JB is unsure. He is reckless and goofy where JB is cautious and serious. ML, for example, understands every mother-humping word we say, he can identify 68 different varieties of truck from a mile away, but he can not will his lips or vocal chords to pronounce the word: TRUCK.





I mean even though I know it is developmental, it really seem like stubbornness.
It's always:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!"
or
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
or, inexplicably:
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

His insistence and persistence is mind-boggling.
"Yes!" I shout back, "I know!!! a TRUCK!!! It IS AWESOME!!! Just like it was 5 seconds ago!!! LOok there!!! Another one!!! AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT NEW ONE OUT!!!"

ML is the type of kid that the first time he plunged his entire arm into the toilet bowl, it was all about the science of discovery, but now it is a Marks Brothers skit: He knows the specific "toilet bowl look" that he has to produce before he gives chase to the bathroom. And even though he has a healthy head start, he will wait for us- perched, contemplative, like a diver on a block- his arm readied at his ear, until i get within 2 lunges of him. We lock eyes. He waits for me to plead, "NO...." and then submerges to the clavicle, smiling... never breaking eye contact...

That kid tries to climb in the oven, sits in the refrigerator, turns on the dishwasher, surfs down the stairs into the garage, tries to feed peanut butter to the iMac. He smear blueberries in his hair to signal the completion of the meal and if you don't dive to remove the plate from his tray, he flips it like a flapjack at the world's fair. He has a power over me. I forget myself. I have thrown food BACK at him- in a desperate attempt to instill some manners, I act like a sociopath.

Still the boy will look at you and tilt his curly-haired head with a smile that says, "You know you're my girl" and at that point it's a wash.

This year, Mother's day was spent with friends and family and no gifts were exchanged in our house. We just enjoyed the air and the craziness.

The eyes have it

Getting ready to leave the house this AM was a typically hectic dance. The boys were up and down, running around. I put JB's coat on and when I turned to put ML's on, JB had taken his off. The climax of anxiety for me came when we stepped outside and a dump truck driving by commanded both boys' thorough attention. I didn't know if ML was going to run into the road after it, or tear off for the largest puddle in the driveway. Puddle-jumping is one of his favorite past times and after 3 days of rain, this mother-loving puddle would have necessitated a complete costume change.

I ran after them and wrassled them into their car seats; the tiny and unpredictable Senór Destruction always gets restrained before the elder. I strapped in ML, handed him a plush puppy, and moved around to the other side of the car.

While I buckled in JB there was some insistent yapping coming from Senór. I effectively ignored him and buckled myself in before I looked back at him...

ML: EYE! EYE! EYE!

In my defense, it sounded like gibberish. But when I looked at him, he was pointing at his puppy's EYE, and shouting the word with perfect diction: "EYE! EYE! EYE!"

Me: YAY!!! ML!!! GREAT JOB!!! ML said the word 'Eye'!!! Everyone cheer for ML!!!

JB: (Not to be outdone and in a neutral tone that will either make him a lot of friends some day, or get him labeled a teacher's-pet-know-it-all) Mom, does he mean like an "I" like you write with? Or an eye that you see with?!?

I wanted to roll my eyes, but that is pretty smart and pretty funny, right? Except that ML was poking the dog right in the eye... so if you are a "smart" three and 1/2 year old, you shouldn't have to ask this...

Also, it is sneaking up on us, but ML is starting to talk!!!
Hooray!!!

Two minute update

I have two minutes to post b/c we are hosting Easter tomorrow and the kids are out of the house for 2 hours so that we can "clean" without having to reprimand ML for sticking his arm straight into the toilet every 3 minutes or so (the hook and eye lock I installed on the door is completely useless, because he has calculated the exact rhythm-pressure-code of wiggle, pulsing, banging, and pausing required to get the hook to magically "jump" out of the eye... the only way it even slowed him down is the one time I left it UNLocked and he spent 90 seconds reaching above the knob toward the lock to try to reach and fiddle with it.)

Life is good. It is cold and rainy today, but tomorrow is supposed to be nicer. We went to a Seder last night- my first... familiar with the stories and some of the words, not familiar at all with the food - so strange that I could be so unfamiliar with an entire meal of "traditional" food. It was yummy, though.

The boys are very sweet and smart and very whiny and needy and actually starting to fight a little - want the same toys, vie for affection. Not too much, but definitely both of them playing various things up for attention and starting to show signs of, "Whatever he has I want"... I'm not sure if it is the Irish/Italian/Catholic genes/ socialization in me that I find myself believing the corrective action for this issue is to add another sibling to the mix... It's as if I want to say, you think you don't get enough attention now, wait until the new baby comes shooting into town; I'll give you something to whine about!!!" Horror at the thought of adding more chaos to this dirty home! But there's so much love in these walls, something inside of me thinks we should divide it up and share it more.

(Katy is somewhere whimpering that I have put this out into the universe- she's just not interested in that "solution".)

Katy and I have been working hard at trying to be healthier. We joined the Y and have a work out strategy that includes going there a few times a week and using the treadmill in our basement more and playing along with a Jillian Michaels tape now and then. It is working. I feel better. I've lost 13 lbs. I can do 20 (full) push-ups. She's been run/walking 4-5 miles at a clip and I've been doing 3-4 (a larger and larger percentage of the time has been running over walking) I have another 25-35lbs that I'd like to lose. I've never been fixated on my weight, but I'm 2 years and 2 months away from my 40th birthday, and I think I'd like to start that decade super fit...

I feel torn about doing all the things I want to do- excel at work, work out, eat right, write more, have fun with these kids- doing them all well... It seems so POSSIBLE every morning and when we are "falling-apart-tired" at night, it seems so implausible. But mostly, I feel lucky and grateful (that's redundant, right?) for my wife and friends and family.

Okay, that was 12 minutes... time to go clean the house!!!

Qunitisential ML

ML had his 18 month well baby visit yesterday.

I took a half day to bring him and was rewarded with several hours of ML being ML. This kid can be a holy terror, but he is as sweet as pie and funny and charming and beautiful.

In the waiting room at the pediatric practice, he was sweet and playful and looking for an audience. Making eyes at everyone that walked in, he would frequently stare at an individual until s/he locked eyes with him. And then once ML was sure they were all watching, he'd go on playing as if he didn't just command everyone's attention with his eyes and put himself on display. It was adorable to watch and hard to believe that the entire scene was contingent on my presence. He puts on a good act of "Mr. Independence". Even I am sometimes duped into believing the character sketch that he writes- that he would be this interactive among strangers, even if one of his parents wasn't present. But experience has taught me that he is shy when outnumber by strangers...

When it was time to go into the exam room, he tensed up a bit. He let me undress him and then when I put him on the scale, he started wailing. It was the first cue to him that something would be expected of him. He comforted quickly and easily and readjusted.

When Dr. L came in, ML made sweet faces, but was acting with subtle nervousness, pulling nervously at his diaper, etc. Then he relaxed a bit again. When ML relaxes, "Sr Destruction" will sometimes appear. He all but ransacked the exam room, around and around, opening cabinets, and drawers, doors and the garbage... Up, down, Up, down... crawling around, touching everything, pushing every button he could find, etc.

He did his tricks:
1) How old are you ML? (holds up one finger)
2) How much does Mommy/Mama love you (stretches his arms wide)
3) What does "cold" look like? (holds tight fists near his face, and shivers)
4) What does "hot" look like? (put hands in front of face like saying "stop" and forms "aaaaa" with his mouth)
5) Where's your belly, mouth, eyes, nose, ears, hair, etc (he points)
6) Give her "the Look" (he drops his chin to his neck, puts his lips into a pout, and looks up at you from under his forehead and bangs)

During the physical exam, started crying when she looked in his ears, and lost it after the vaccination was administered. I cuddled him and whispered that he was okay. I asked him to thank his doctor, and he quickly signed "thank you" through tear-streaked cheeks without a break in the whimpering. He recovered by the time he was dressed, and was back in full "ladies man mode" for our trip back through the waiting room. As we walked out, I heard a girl about 6 years old say, "I liked that boy, he was really cute."

The kid can tear a room apart in 3.5 seconds, but he really is a superstar!

Vital stats:
Weight: 25lbs, 10 oz (50th percentile)
Ht: 34" (90th percentile)

You

Look who's talking...

Today, big day on the language front...

With purpose and conviction, ML said:

Mama
Mommy
cheese
grape
yes, please

The Tensile Strength of Cheerios

I tried to write this blog post 2 years ago, but couldn't come up with much more than the name.

Two years ago, I first noticed how the floors of the house were littered with a minefield of Cheerios. JB got those things everywhere. And the ones he wasn't tossing, dropping, and sprinkling about, Katy and I were spilling ourselves. No brooms were active enough to sweep the "danger" clear.

After they achieve a functional pincer grasp and their diets advance beyond mush and slush; after they demonstrate successful mastication of the beloved crunchy oat wheel, then you have to spend a few weeks worrying that they will get distracted while chewing and somehow wedge a cheerio into some narrow portion of their trachea...

THEN, when you are convinced they could chew and swallow a Cheerio in their sleep, you start to use those things for everything: snacks, teethers, passifiers, counting exercises, lessons in sharing, a form of distraction, reward for good behavior... They are like baby dog-biscuits!

Thing is...unless you have live-in help (or are the kind of parent that can't sleep if one item is out of place, or unless your living situation requires ruthless attention to packaging up food lest you attract varmint of all kinds) evidence of the parental overuse of Cheerios invariably shows up all over the floors of your house. I could have predicted all of this, but what caught me by surprise two years ago, and what still amuses me now, is the emergence of this superhuman power I possess: Whether bare-foot or wearing shoes, I have highly sensitive, perceptive abilities in my feet. If I skip, walk, hop, or otherwise landed on a single Cheerio, I can instantaneously reverse course. I will hop up off that thing without even causing damage. Maybe I might crack the "O" into 2 or 3 pieces, but I have learned to instinctively spring-load off those things before crushing them into impossible-to-clean-up piles of oat dust.

At first it was like every WW2 movie you've seen with the soldier's foot on the trip wire and the calculated, slow-motion determining how to back up off of that thing without making a big mess. But then it became smooth and seamless like a 007 dancer.
MUST.
NOT.
CRUSH.
CHEERIOS...
KITCHEN.
FILTHY.
ENOUGH!!!

At some point, we all got better about not leaving Cheerios laying around, and many months could go by without one Cheerio narrowly escaping pulverization. BUT...

Now we are back to Cheerio mayhem again; and my toes and soles and ankles are back at it- bouncing off the cereal scattered around the floors of our house. It's a 1 1/2 year old thing. ML has mad self-feeding skilz, but a pile of Cheerios will not stay above ground when he is their commander.

So this is the part of motherhood is tricky.

You've got to stay on your toes... And you've got to be okay with some dust under your feet.

Mid winter's night dream

JB gave up the binki this week.

Oh the drama- mostly for the moms. He's 3 plus years. Our pediatrician said, "It's time."
But it seemed so harsh and unnecessary. Though he has only been using his binki at night for (I think) almost two years now, he has become more whiny about wanting and needing it and he doesn't really need it- he hasn't used it at school practically since his first birthday.

To her credit, Katy has been the enforcer on this one. She really took to heart Dr. L's "It's time." and I think she even heard it as, "IT'S TIME, YOU NEGLIGENT BITCHES!!!!!" Usually, I'm the one around here who is all, "Honey, we have to put our foot down." But in this instance, she was one step away from making him leave it for Santa on Christmas eve in order to get his presents in the morning.

But here is the type of kid we are dealing with:
Last week, we really played up this "YOU're A BIG BOY... YOU'RE GIVING UP YOUR BINKI" thing. And he was into it. Over the weekend, he told anyone who would listen, "I'M GIVING UP MY BINKI in TWO DAYS!" He got a special soft toy and a day trip to the museum with his Papa, and the previous days were full of snow and sledding and fun. Sunday night, when the binki sacrifice was upon us, JB went all, "Binki, I wish I knew how to quit you"...

It was hysteria and crying. Heaving sobs and heartbreaking bargaining: "I...wwwwwill...give..uuuupupupuuuup my Binknknknnknknknknk ieeee... to-ooo-ooo-ooo morrrrrowwwwww... Pleeeeeeeeeze, not tonight..."

This went on and on and I was the first one to crack under this pressure. The parental conferencing went on in whispered tones in between sobs:

Me: What are we supposed to do? He's a wreck.
Her: I know... I don't know.

US: JB, what will happen tomorrow if you get the binki tonight... If you want one more night, that's okay, (We nodded at each other, agreeing to this compromise on-the-fly) but we can't have this go on again tomorrow. (We nodded even more exuberantly at each other, a couple of clown-moms who think they are the first to craft a plan to cram 16 other clowns into a small car.)

Like an addict begging for one more chance, he tells us, NO, of course he won't cry or whine for his binki TOMORROW... tomorrow he will GIVE UP the binki...
He tells us this still in between sobs and spittle, but with the tone of a true con artist, practically convincing me that I am unfair to presume that he was looking for a longer reprieve- it is just ONE MORE NIGHT!!! What don't you get about that?!? No one is going to do this again tomorrow... TOMORROW is the day we GIVE UP the binki... Get it?!?

As he puts the polish on his point, with a heartbreakingly stoic, "please," his screams and cries evaporate. We can see his heart pounding in his chest. In the deafening silence that replaced the chaotic hysteria born of his tiny vocal chords, he inhales one more staccato breath for dramatic effect and leaves the wet tears trickling quietly down his cheeks. And though we know we are being conned, we know this is surely the beginning of months of long battles at bed time, Katy and I look at the clock which is proclaiming the time to be 9:45pm (nearly 2 hours past the little dude's bedtime) and we cave quicker than a house of cards in a wind tunnel.

One more night of binki...

And the next night, guess what happened?

Bedtime announcement:
"TONIGHT I GIVE UP MY BINKI!!!"
Bath. PJs. Stories. Brush teeth. Say prayers.
JB: Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight, Mommy.
Us: Goodnight. Love you.
Him: Love you

To bed. Shut door.
(beat...beat...beat)
US: (motioning silently to eachother) W.T.F.?!?!?

5 days later... not even a bedtime request to see his former life-partner, Binki.

That's the type of kid we have got here:
One part "I'll do what you want"
One part "If you allow my timeline and/or I have some say in the terms"
One part "I trust you and can appreciate what you're trying to do here"
A spash of "I'm not really interested in months of battling"
shaken and poured into a fancy glass that has been chilled in "Just keep it in the back of your head that we all got a little of what we wanted here."

Unspoken warning of a 3 year old: I could have just as easily shut this shit down! But I didn't, did I???

I'm gonna try to stay on this kid's good side. Srsly.

Newsletter: 14 months AND 37.5 months

Dear ML and JB,

Let me start by saying, I love you both way more than it may appear (having missed writing you newsletters on the occasion(s) of your first and third birthdays, respectively.)



ML- today you are 14 months and one day old:


JB- today you are 37 months and 13 days old:


Today, for most of the day, I felt 2,352 months old. But after spending a few hours with you this evening, you brought me back closer to my actual age (448 some-odd months).

We set our clocks back 2 weeks ago and now at 5pm it is dark, darkie, dark-dark... Like the lining of a wool, dress coat that is wrapped around your face in a basement closet when you are starting to worry that the other kids moved on to another game without yelling, "come out, come out where ever you are"...)

I hate it.

I am not one of these people to complain about the weather and usually, there is nothing i like more than a change of season, but the darkness has hit me hard this year.

I hate picking you up from day care in the dark. I hate waking you up and rushing you out of the house in the (mostly dark) morning so that Mama and I can get to work on time. I hate these two things so much I've started to contemplate what you would miss out on if I quit my job and stayed home to take care of you. Aside from the obvious (food, heat, and new underwear when you grow out of your current size) there is quite a bit at school, I'm not sure I could replicate for you at home all day.

It makes me a little heart sick to imagine you without the groups of boys and girls your age to play with; learning to negotiate and socialize with peer groups. You have the older kids to look up to, and the younger kids to look out for. You have grown dependent on the many layers of structure: the schedule, the group activities, the various play stations; the rooms you are looking forward to moving into and the rooms you lovingly look back on; the assortment of teachers who are caring and loving, but who see you as precious members of precious groups and not the "answer to all of their prayers"... I mean, I could duplicate a curriculum, but I worry about the rest of it.



Together right now, you two (ML and JB) are so perfect: so much work, so demanding, downright exhausting, AND so loving, generous, full of joy, and forgiving all at the same time. You also really compliment one another's personalities and are remarkably tolerant of each other. At least once a day, one of you smooches or climbs on or swats at the other one, and no matter which of you is on the receiving end, there is no swat back, practically no protest... I know there is fighting in your future, but it is hard to believe to see you interact right now.



ML:
You might be the happiest baby I've ever seen. Not surface happy, but an attentive, clever, mischievous version of the happiest baby on the block. You are a beast and there is practically no end to the nicknames your mama and I have for you: We still call you Senor Destruction, but also Hoss, Biff, Chunks, and baby dragon. It's not really your stature (you have definitely slimmed down and dropped from the 95th percentile in height and wt to the 50th percentile.) It is more that you have no fear, but you are full of opinions. You are demanding, but laid back too. If you fall, your frustration is more apparent than your self-pity, fear, or physical discomfort.





You want nothing like you want electronics. You want the phone, you want the remote, you want the phone. You get really pissed off if you see a phone and we don't give it to you- you fall to the floor and cry like someone stomped on your hand. (Well, like another kid might if someone stomped his hand- I think if we stomped your hand, you would not cry the way you cry when we withhold an iphone from you. I think if we did one day stomp on your hand, you would look at us, you would look at your reddened, crushed hand, you would cock your head as if to say, "That seemed somewhat unnecessary," and then you would reach beseechingly for our mobile phone before deciding to cry.)



You are active. You will run right for the stairs, you will run away from us without looking back, you will head just to the place you know we don't want you to go. And some of the time you will look back briefly to send a giggle our way before forging on.



You have big hands and feet and maybe they aren't as big as they are oddly shaped - your pinkies are nearly as long as your pointer, and not only is your second toe longer than your first, but your 3rd is longer than your second. I inspect these hands and feet every night and it still makes me laugh, but because they suit you: strong, goofy, undeniably unique, and somehow not baby-like.



You have been walking for months. You are smart and curious, and climbing - into cabinets and on stools and furniture. You learn really quickly. If we show you how to do something, you try to do it. Even if we don't show you, you usually watch us and then try to do something. You have started climbing into the refrigerator. You follow instructions like, "Go put this book on the shelf." There were about 12 weeks there when you never had less than 3-5 bruises on your forehead. They were all in various stages and colors- something green, something browning, something bright blue. Just as one went away, you nailed a door or chair with your noggin' and earned another one. But that seems to have slowed down..




My favorite part of the day is in the evening around 7pm, when we say to you, "ML, Are you ready for your bath?" Whatever you are doing, you drop it and turn and head up the stairs. You go into the linen closet, you grab a wash cloth that we keep on the low shelf for you to reach, you shut the door, you walk into the bathroom and throw the washcloth into the tub. Then you wiggle until I take your clothes off. Your Mama and I giggle at this charade. Every day.



You say practically nothing, but you have learned lots of signs: more, all done, please, thank you, bath, milk, diaper, brother, drink, eat. You make a lot of noise and can use a Kazoo (for realz), but verbally, there still is only the occasional accidental "Mama". Once I put a bit of brownie in your mouth and the "MMmmmmm" sound was so precisely expressed and so lovingly drawn out, that I'd be lying if I didn't say I felt a little dissed. ["He KNOWS how to say it," I quipped to your mama, "He just doesn't want to say it to us..."]



You sing and shout, but you're indiscriminate in your noise-making. For sure you have "Da" which is your go to word. "Da" is used for everything and when pointing, as if to say, "That...that... what's that". You also have "Daw" (dog), "grrrrrrawww" (the answer to "What does a dragon say?"), and Gee (soft gee not hard G) which is what you call JB. You will look back and forth at your moms to answer the questions "Where's Mama? Where's Mommy?" Showing us that you know we have names, but no matter how many times we beg for you to say, "Ma" or "Mama", you proudly answer with "DA! Dada!!" so. funny.



You make us laugh every day! Usually just by grinning or laughing. You chortle and giggle and belly laugh. If your brother trains his eyes on you and lowers a brow or curls up one of his lips, you belly laugh in anticipatory encouragement. You offer the sweetest, welcoming smiles when we walk into the room. And for all your bluster - pretending you are comfortable walking right away from us in our home- I've seen you stand in a doorway for 10 minutes rather than walk in a place you don't know; only passing through the threshold when you put my forefinger in a vice-like grip.



You cry if the vacuum cleaner is standing silently in the living room, and fall apart (in apparent terror) when we turn it on. You don't mind wrestling with me and JB, but you whimper a little if a tower of cardboard blocks come tumbling down. And yesterday, you shit in the tub... just so it's out there on the internet... I don't want you reading this someday and coming back to me about how perfect you were.



Also, you do this odd thing where you will slap yourself and occasionally bite your hands and arms. It's very exuberant of you, but recently, the thing that you get reprimanded the most for is biting yourself. I know some would say, "Just leave him alone and he'll stop," but left to your own devices, you do draw blood.
Weird, right? I have no idea...

You are about 23 lbs, have 2 bottom teeth and 4 top teeth (and I've already described the fingers and toes). You have the greatest head of curly blond hair. You are very ticklish. All the normal tickle points work, and I can even get a belly laugh by rubbing your cheeks the right way or gently scratching the palms of your hands. You are eating everything now. You get to eat things that we never allowed JB...candy, fried food, chocolate. With him, he just didn't know it existed, but you have a brother who likes treats, and a brother that doesn't mind sharing that much either.



When I look back on these times, I will think of you in the tub- cherub like and soft- splish splashing happily and grabbing at your tiny junk making sure we end our day with sweetness.



We love you more than we can express!!!
Mommy and Mama




JB:

...To be continued

Another ridiculous week

I'm so wiped out, right now. But so happy.

It got hot again this week- 90 plus degrees for 4 or 5 days now.

A hurricane is on the way: Earl.
It shouldn't be that big if/when it hits us (they think category 2) but we bought some water and supplies just in case.

Last weekend, my gram fell and broke her wrist at a funeral we were attending. She's fine, but watching her go thru that left a lot of us a little shaky.

After getting to see many good peeps this weekend, Katy and I got sick Sunday night. We had the exact same symptoms, and the exact same time of onset- so we couldn't blame one another like we normally might.

We only occasionally glared with contempt and animosity at our two boys, perfectly healthy little cesspools that they are... whatever virus caused their barely noticeable runny noses and crankiness last week turns the adults of the house into piles of tissue-seeking, sinus-head-achy, sleeping with cough drops in our mouths, and taking advil around the clock, sudafed addicts.

JB looked at my pathetic, sickly expression yesterday morning, took out a notebook, and with the speed of an expert Nurse Practitioner writing a prescription for Victoza, he drew me a masterpiece that resembled a Sine curve in black, fine point ink and told me, "This is for you... so that you can have it... for work."

Read between the lines, people! He really gets me, and knew that it would help my cold (and my feelings of desperation) to have a piece of him with me all day.

Not to be outdone, ML waited all day at day care- doing his thing, which involves dragging his care-givers around in circles, clutching one of their fingers as if he is Gollum and the finger he is holding is wearing the RING- until I walked thru the door at 4:40pm. He stood, steadied by his band of merry women, and walked to me. WALKED. Not dragging someone with him by their finger. Not 1 or 2 steps... no. It was at least 6 steps. It felt like 7 or 8 or 10 steps before he reached me.

I was in awe. Laughing and cheering. I assumed he'd been doing this all day, but the expressions on his care givers' faces indicated to me that either they would go on to win academy awards one day, or this was the first time they had seen ML deliver on the promise of upright mobility too. "We knew you could do it!" they shouted and clapped...

I was prepared to go home and not see this behavior again for a while. When ML laughed for the first time, he giggled and chortled for a full 15 minutes and then we didn't hear it again for 3 or 6 weeks. But last night, he walked and walked and walked.

And tonight, we got a digital recording of it:



Um, yeah. That right there? That is on day TWO of walking... In his life.
DAY.
TWO.

Awesome. (Sung in a high-pitched vibrato)

JB has been very sweet, encouraging ML to walk.

He has paused a moment several times to look at us with a cocked head and an expression of, "WTF is everyone so worked up about... I 'been walking up in here for several years now, fishes!!!"

But he seems to understand enough to shake that confusion from his eyes and mirror our excited and proud reactions. Already, Katy and I have stopped cheering for every one of ML's new steps. (Mostly it is because our energy levels are low and our minds are fragile and limp from the week's "illness"... But also, I mean, do you see how many STEPS this kid is taking?!? Constant cheering of that volume is a lot to ask...) Anyway, JB- you can hear him in the background of that recording- if he sees ML walking and we are not making a big enough deal about it, he brings it to our attention: "HE'S DOING IT... HE'S WALKING."

I think he is trying to show how supportive he is (we heap praise on JB whenever he acts the part of "doting brother.") But the expression in his voice doesn't quite get to, "LOOK AT MY AWESOME BROTHER!!!" He instead sounds equal parts excited, panicked, and underwhelmed; like he could be saying, "LOOK THERE, HE'S TRYING TO EAT HIS OWN POO AGAIN, LIKE I TOLD YOU HE WOULD..."

I said to Katy tonight, "I don't remember being this excited when JB took his first steps."
She said, "You were."
Memory is a strange thing. Every day I am totally enthralled, enamored, and sometimes freaked out by how amazing JB is, but I really don't remember him being as awesome as ML is at this age. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention back then. Maybe there's not enough brain power to store specific feelings. Maybe I'm successfully "living in the moment". Maybe it's what we always blame it on: sleep deprivation. In any case, just to bring my heart back there, I went searching for this post: Evidence of Walking.

Like I've said before:
The heart and body remember things the mind can't...
For the rest of it... I guess that's why there are cameras.

Bottom line: I sure do love these boys.

Tonight, to celebrate, we went to the pool.
The perfect way to end a 94 degree day.

I feel very, very blessed!

Newletter: Month 34

JB,

Today you are 34 and some-odd-fraction months old.

Holy smmokes. We talk a lot about you in these here web-pages, but if these were supposed to be "monthly" newsletters, we (and by "we" I mean "I") have failed you.

You and I had a big fight at dinner tonight.
It started with Sit down and ended with you crying in time out and me red-faced, muttering, and pacing a few yards away.

The new thing from you is NO.
I mean all kinds and versions of "no".

There's the little, "do you want more milk?"
No.

And then there's the, "Please SIT in your chair."
NO.

And then there's the, "You are in time out."
NO, I am not going to time out... no.

The defiance comes with a touch too much whining for my taste...
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! NOOOoooooo!!!"
And hysteria... at least it did tonight.

Since you have generally earned the nickname, Mr. Mellow, you can sometimes be like living with Dr. Jackle and Mr. Whine. Honestly, it IS hard to hear "no" to the simplest request, query, imperative (from a not-yet-3-year old) when your safety or comfort is at stake... I am sure this will be as hard or harder when you are 7, 10, 13, 16, 21 years old, but i guess my thought is that at least you will have the vocabulary for a fair debate and enough of a grasp of the concept of cause-and-effect for me to not have to be the only one "choosing my battles".

But these events are not without my own emotional response. And our similarities are already emerging as reasons we will butt heads: stubborn, watery, sensitive, brave, wishy-washy-not-sure-what-i-want-and-that-is-hard-enough-to-deal-with-inside-of-me-let-alone-having-to-try-to-convey-it-to-you, DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED IN ME, and LET ME FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN! heads. Sweet, sweet boy, you and I are a lot alike.

But, you are also like your Mama- she won't go into the Ocean unless I beg or trick her either. You and she notice things I miss every day. Things I would miss completely if you weren't pointing them out: "Hear the crickets, Mama and Mommy?"

It's been several months now that we are blown away by the way you are calculating and figuring out the world, grouping ideas and things together correctly, extrapolating out notions that seem impossibly wiser than your age.

You know all four components of your given name; you know your address including city and state. You know what we need to do in different weather- what to wear if it rains or snows or is hot, why we put the windows up or down, when we use the windshield wipers, why lights go on at night; You look for stars and the moon when the sun starts to go down. If you see a digger, you ask how he can do his work without a dump truck. When you see a telephone pole, you tell us about the wires attached and what they do, what they are for. When you see our neighbors leaving, you ask where they are going... and we have to think up 5 or 6 "maybes"... "Maybe they are going to work... Maybe they are going to visit their kids... Maybe they are going to the store..." we joke that "everything comes down to safety": hard hats, lights on cars, reflectors, lines on the road, seat belts, windows that don't go all the way down, treads on shoes... When answering the incessantly asked question, "why", I would estimate, 80% of the time the answer is ultimately safety. But that's not satisfying to you:

JB: Why that truck have a step there?

Random Mom: because it is too high without a step.

JB: Why?

RM: so that the driver/worker can get to the top without getting hurt.

JB: Why?

RM: to keep him safe

JB: Why?

RM: It is probably an OSHA violation; his employer needs to prevent repetitive motion injuries and calculate what step size is ergonomically proper to avoid undue stress on his joints.

JB: Oh.

It sometimes seems as if you will only accept the answer that is above your pay-grade, and then your reaction is a very mellow, "oh." As if, "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

You are getting good at pretending and telling stories. Your cousins have helped you learn about pretending. The three of you are constantly "taking our orders" in your pretend restaurants and you alternate between having every imaginable food we can conjure up OR telling us, "We don't have that here," to all the items we request. It is adorable but maybe makes us think we go out to eat too often.

JB loves sports: the world cup on TV, baseball, basketball, our softball games. You are starting to understand the difference between the games and the rules, the positions, and the teams. You take turns being the batter and the pitcher, the kicker and the goalie. One day, you used 4 sippy cups to tell me which were the on the soccer team that "had the ball" and which were on the team that "didn't have the ball" (this was based on the color of their tops). You also have followed Mama's lead in your affinity for dance as a spectator sport. There's this show called, "So you think you can dance" on TV which I hope (by the time you are able to or interested in reading these newsletters) is a faded memory. You and she sit and watch and rewind and cue up your favorites for me to see. There was one where boys were dressed at ball players and "danced it out"... it was like all of your favorite things rolled into on 3 minute segment.

We bought you a pair of "tap shoes" which are really a pair of plastic, purple girls shoes that make noise as you clip-clop across the floor. We set out to buy you some flip-flops but when you wandered over to the girl's section of the store and used your most politely hesitant voice to ask, "Can I have these?" We just couldn't leave them behind in the store. You couldn't nap for the entire weekend after we bought them b/c they were on the floor near your bed and it was too exciting to sleep with those shoes just sitting there. We are sufficiently convinced that you want to try to dance and in the fall there's an "all sports" class at the Y at 9am and a tap class down the street at 10 am... I think if we buy you real, authentic, ACTUAL tap shoes, you will soil yourself in excitement, so... I mean... CLEAN UP IN AISLE SIX... bring it on...

Your vocabulary is impressive. Your conversational skills are ever-improving. See this post for a few of my favorite, recent items. Despite your obvious smarty-pants status, you have developed this somewhat annoying habit of asking, "What?" when really you know exactly what we said and what is going on. You've had trouble hearing in the past due to the difficulty with your ears being full of fluid, but if we just spoke louder every time you asked, "Whattt?" (you like to really enunciate the hard "t" at the end) it would be like a school for the deaf around here. Then too, we've noticed that if we just don't respond to the "Whattt?" you tell us what we said. Your Mama complains that I have a Premature and exasperating "What" that is part of my vernacular, and I have also heard you say my "which one?" That is one of mine too. You had an ENT appointment last week which revealed that both of your ear tubes (Placed in January) are out, so now we will have even a harder time determining if your "Whattt" is related to water-logged hearing or absent-minded distractedness.

Speaking of trips to the hospital... In June, you got your first stitches. Briefly, here's the tale. ML was sent home from school with a fever. He puked all over me and then when I handed him off to Mama, he puked all over her. in our brilliance, we were carting him all over the house, trying to calculate how best to get him comfortable and cleaned off, so he puked in about 4 or 5 rooms of the house. I took you to come mow the lawn with me so you would be outside, and I was worried about your safety in the backpack carrier, so I buckled you in with your sunglasses on and took 5 steps away to get the batting helmet that you love to wear (safety first.) You kicked yourself over and the sunglasses cut your forehead when your noggin' hit the pavement. We called your TT. she came over in less than 300 seconds. It was the dinner hour and Mac was in nothing but a tutu. Dried blood caked all over your face, you asked your cousin, "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" She deadpanned, "Why is there blood all over your face?" When I said, "I'm sorry buddy, I think we have to go to the hospital." You started sobbing a staccato alternative: "We'll... stay... here.. you mow the lawn... I'll sit ... and ... watch... I fe...el bet...ter." You got 4 stitches. The trip to the ER took 5 hours. You are stuck all summer wearing a bandaid over your forehead to try and prevent the sun from making the scar more noticeable. I felt terrible for at least a week, but then I made up some story about how it would have been much worse if I hadn't buckled you in the carrier- that's the story that I'm sticking to kid.

You've started using expletives like, "Awesome!" and "Cool!" to describe things. You use the words, "actually" and "also" and "holy guacamole"... you are clear on what drink is an "adult beverage" and what is a "kid beverage". The "Actually" kills me... I just love it. We say it all the time, but when it come out a kid's mouth, it is just so funny.
This exchange typifies the adorableness of it:
Me: JB, what's your favorite letter?
JB: um... 'A'
Me: That's a good letter.
JB: Ummm, actually, it's 'B'

You also hear words and they make you think of other similar sounding words. When you overheard your grandpa use the word, "mediocrity," you looked at him and said, "And also, I have crocks on."

You finally started treating ML like he is occasionally intruding on your perfect world. When he comes crawling towards you and the toys you are playing with, you have started say, "NO," to him. (surprise, surprise) You do this when he starts to crawl away or toward the stairs too, "NO" as if you need him to stay still for you to be comfortable. This makes sense. Your brother is very different from you- he is all "go now, ask questions later" and you seem to have always been a "Let me take it slow and think about things before I move" kind of kid. We are pretty stern with you about saying "NO" to ML. We try to tell you that you don't have to protect him or your toys that you can tell us and we will steer ML to safety... that you can just explain to him how to do things, but this is coming out as instinct "NO, ML," and to be honest, your mommy and mama are surprised at how long it has taken for any territorial behavior to show up.

Then too, I would be remiss if I did not point out how often you reach toward him with a soft touch to say 'HI' and how you don't react hardly at all if ML swats at you or climbs on you. You continue to be an absolutely amazing big brother. All we could have hoped for and more.

You are doing great at school. The teachers say you are one of the best kids there: polite, friendly, happy, smart. You have made it clear that you remember your old school, but you prefer the new one and that is a relief for us- we would have been very heartbroken if this transition seemed to have hurt you somehow.

Your favorites right now:

Food: spaghetti and meatballs (still)

Color: Orange (still) but at least 1/2 the time you will tell us your favorite is orange AND red

Favorite toys: trucks, "soft things" (puppy, barry white, polar bear, teddybear), glove-balls-tee-helmet, puzzles,
TV show: Handy Manny
Potty training status: Mostly dry, most nights... sometimes not, but otherwise completely potty trained. (as it's been for nearly 6 months now)

Patented "JB kisses": 'two handed' - one hand on each cheek of the person you are kissing.

We can't believe that you are going to be 3 years old in less than 2 months. You are getting so big and despite all of the "NO's" you are lobbing at us on a daily basis, you are as sweet as honey from the hive. We are astounded at how cute you are and smart and beautiful... It sure makes it hard to be stern with you and consistent when you misbehave. But we will figure that all out...

We love you very much!!!

Mommy and Mama

Conversations overheard

July 1, 2010:
At a Dayton Dragon's (minor league) game, JB, still awake in the 9th inning: "Where's the um'pirate?"

July 5, 2010:
Out for a walk with JB in the stroller... Neither of us has spoken for a few minutes. Out of the blue he announces: "Bibbity Boppity BACON".

July 11, 2010: JB is falling asleep in the car after many hours of swimming and playing. His eyes are lolling around in his skull and I say to him, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" He blinks a few times and says, "Can we hear some Lady Gaga?"

We stop for gas a few minutes later and there is an amazing double rainbow. It is the first time we have the opportunity to show him a real rainbow. Katy and I pull JB out of the car and point to it, using various clouds, trees, and an airplane as points of reference.

Moms: Do you see it? It is right there?
JB: yes (he's looking in the wrong direction)
Moms: Look up there, see the colors?
JB: yes
Moms (trying to point him to it) see the jet? it's about to fly through the rainbow. Do you see the rainbow?
JB: (not looking high enough in the sky to see the rainbow) Yes. I see it
Moms: (emphatically repeating themselves)
JB: Um, can I just look at that dump truck?
Moms bring their gaze to the horizon and see a huge, orange, municipal, dump truck parked about 200 feet away and start laughing, hysterically.

This morning, in our kitchen, JB has his hands in fists:
JB: can you clean my hands off
Me: sure.
JB: (Handing me an empty banana peel) They have some of this carcass on them I need to clean off.

This evening while waiting for the tub to fill, a naked JB is sort of quietly muttering to himself: "blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah"... I can't really hear him and lean in for a better listen. He sounds like an actor patiently rehearsing lines. With a gentle inflection, he intones: "I'm not mad at you, I'm not angry, I'm just explaining... I'm not angry... I'm not mad, I'm just explaining..." I run, silently giggling to get Katy. She says, "Where did he pick that up?" I roll my eyes as she has said this to him 2 times this evening alone... And last week when I caught him considering the dimensions of an electrical outlet and shouted him away from it, I had to write a convincing jingle off-the-cuff with these very words to stop the kid from sobbing.

NOT TO BE OUTDONE...
ML: (several times over the last few weeks) "DA!"
"Da-da!"
"Na-na!"
"GA!"
"Laaaaaaa" and "AaaaaaaRrraaaaaaarrrrr" (in a perfect imitation of a drunken Barney from the Simpsons.)

So effing amazing... these kids are!

Toothy

You can't see it too well here, but his first tooth (lower front tooth) popped last week.

Tiny piles of pebbles

We have some seriously cute kids.

Since I posted last about the snotty noses, I took the ruggies to the doctor. We just didn't feel comfortable with how long the kids have been coughing and the low grade fever that JB seemed to have (even in 80 degree pre-summer weather).

Long story short: JB's left ear tube (that was just placed in jan) is definitely OUT of the ear drum, resting uselessly in the Eustachian tube. And that ear is infected. Furthermore, ML's ears (BOTH OF THEM) are infected... didn't really see that coming.

Just to put it in perspective for you, ML had a double ear infection brewing the week he learned to crawl, pull himself to standing, wave, clap, and eat egg yolk for the first time. This kid is the happiest baby on the planet. His smile just lights up the joint. And man is he on the move. We don't ever remember JB going this fast at things...

For JB's part, he has been exceedingly whiny, crying at the drop of a hat and a little on the pissed off side. He yelled at the chair yesterday because he ran into it:

JB: NO, CHAIR! BAD! YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!

KT: We do not yell at things. And when we make a mistake, we do not blame or take it out on someone or something else. And we do not call anyone 'Bad'.

JB: (throws himself on the floor in a sweaty, snotty puddle)

The thing is, he is so transparent. They rave about him at the new school. How good he is, how polite he is; how well-mannered and helpful... I ask them about the amount of whining, they look at me like I am crazy. I get that he does this at home with us b/c he is safe here and because he needs to try to feel in control of something, but it is amazing how different he is with us compared to other people. It is likely that this is just what we need to put up with for right now (and don't forget, he is on antibiotics AND has an ear infection) but it does make me wonder if we are doing something wrong- are being too hard on him somehow, or too lenient...

But when the little animal inside him settles, he is just so wonderful in his questioning of the world, his sensitivity, his intellect.

He has a teddy bear that he traded in "Teddybear" for... Remember? "Teddybear" was a soft brown bear that he was addicted to... then he found the soft white bear that was given to ML by the same friends that gave JB Teddybear. Since ML can't have a sleeping partner for a while, we let JB adopt the white bear. "What do you want to call him, JB?" I asked

"Bear-y." He replied. "White... Bear-y White."

(You can see the imagination this kid has for names)

Katy and I laughed. So now, we have Teddybear and Barry White. And it's true, JB cannot get enough of this bear's love. He falls asleep dragging these soft paws all over his face and belly and arms. If he's feeling particularly cuddly with you, he will turn your hand over and rub Barry's paw on yours. It is as generous an offering as the last spoonful of an ice cream cake. This week he told me, "i have a secret i wanna tell you." and when I lent him my ear he whispered,

"I love my Barry White."

This is just one example of his sweet, quirky ways. Some others:

If I seem a little quiet, he might look over at me and say, "Mommy, wanna tic tac?"

He'll remind us on the way out of the house not to forget our sunglasses or to put on sunscreen.

When ML is crying he touches brother's head and says, "It's okay, ML" or the other day he told us, "I'll get my guitar and my pick and play him a song."

He likes to collect little things. I keep finding piles of tiny rocks around: There's one in the garage, one on the front porch, one in the cup holder of his new car seat- 5 or 6 rocks in a line or in an imperfect circle. I just went to wash his coat and found these in one of the pockets:

God help me if throwing shit you think is interesting or cute into your pockets is hereditary.

I am home today, getting ready for our trip, and when I went to put this load of laundry in, I was picking up towels- lots of towels... Before we had kids, katy and I would use like 2 or 3 towels a week, total. But now, I use a new one more frequently instead of reusing- either because one of the boys has needed mine that was hanging up OR b/c they are showering with me or because we had to wipe snot with one and don't want to cross-contaminate us or them... or whatever the reason...

As I'm picking up all these barely used towels to launder, I'm struck by how clean and lotioned and towel dried and buffed and fluffed our kids are. They get cream and sunscreen in the morning. They get a bath every night. They get liquid soap and shampoo and conditioner and a combination of 4 different types of moisturizing ointments. They get their noses wiped with puffs plus and diaper wipes and soft cloths. They get toothpaste and lip balm and they stay soft and gorgeous. Sometimes I want to be all like,

These beautiful children are brought to you by the makers of:

and

and

and

With all the whining and crying and griping, sometimes it is hard not to stare straight ahead from 5-9 pm in an exhausted state and wait for this "period of our lives" to be over... But I don't want to forget what is going on right now. We are pouring all the love we have out onto these little ones.

Even when they kick us and cry and scream, and take their frustrations out on us (and the furniture); even when as mommies, we aren't always evolved enough to avoid taking our frustrations out on each other, I don't want to forget the way we are rubbing our love and intentions onto them. And the way we are washing tears away with soft cotton and kisses and hugs. When you use your hands to do this, it soaks into your flesh too.

Katy and I do it instinctively, but purposefully- we care for them in this very physical way every day (wipe and clean their faces and bodies and work to keep their skin healthy and intact). We do this sometimes in a sleepwalking state, sometimes out of habit, but often as if it is the most important thing we will ever do.

Because it kind of is.

And it comes back to us in totally random ways- like piles of rocks carefully selected and left as if a work of art. In the report from the teachers that every day at school, JB asks for a napkin at lunch time and then other kids follow in his footsteps and do the same. In the way ML spends his first double ear infection jungle-gym climbing the furniture and laughing at his brother...

We are lucky lucky mommies!