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

Two of my sweetest moments as a mom...

Happened in bathrooms today...

1) JB is in full potty training mode. He's in underwear except at night and has been relatively accident free. Today I had to go to the bathroom and he insisted on coming in with me. He was distractedly playing with a toy, but when he heard my first drop of pee hit the water, he immediately turned his attentive eyes to me. With a proud, eager smile he congratulated me: "GOOD JOB, MOMMY!"

(Sigh)

2) Tonight as I was getting him ready for bed, we were working thru our routine. The regular dental hygiene segment is as follows: JB brushes with a standard kid's toothbrush for as long as he wants and then I brush his teeth with that same toothbrush. Then, he gets to use my electric brush. (I used it as a reward one night thinking I would forever regret that split second of poor judgement, but he really likes it, and uses it well and actually puts it on his teeth, etc.)

Tonight he balked when I handed him his toothbrush and just as I thought it would be a big'ol battle, he asked sweetly, "You brush my teeth, Mommy?" and he handed the brush back to me. He allowed me to really get in there and brush. He stopped to ask me if I saw any food on his teeth (??) and in the middle of my cleaning- his mouth full of spittle- he told me encouragingly, "You are a really good toothbrusher, Mommy."

I'm sure this kid will say plenty of things in his life that will reflect back my not-so-deeply-hidden inner asshole, but today many of the things he said made me think "Wow, we are doing pretty good with this parenting thing."

Sent from my iPhone

JB at 2 years+ and ML at almost 2 months

We went to the pediatrician for JB's 2 year old visit last Wednesday.

In the days leading up to his appointment, the kid was just a wreck. He was a drippy mess, sneezing, coughing, acting like a brat, crying at the drop of a hat... From what I've heard, this is the exact behavior that causes parents and peeps of parents to add the prefix "terrible" to the word "twos". There was this one moment when we were in the hospital and my sister was taking care of JB and every kid at her house and at day care started to get colds that caused that wet, bronchial-spastic cough that I wondered to myself if his doctor would tell us his ear tubes had fallen out at this upcoming visit. Since he had the surgery in December, JB has literally not been sick. The year before it was ear infections every six weeks, but after he got tubes, all was cool.

So, Dr. L looks into his left ear and in micro-seconds pulls away, "He's got an ear infection. The tube is out." The tube in the right ear is in his Eustachian tube and not the ear drum, and instantly we realize that all the signs were there. He doesn't get fevers when he gets an ear infection, he just gets sensitive and whiny, and stubborn, and prone to frequent breakdowns. Perhaps even more so if everything in his world was changing: home, schedule, family structure, stress level of parents, household members, etc.

At the 2 year "well child visit", the kid was a wreck. Really, he was all over the place. Cried when they wanted to undress him, then he pulled his diaper off and wanted to be naked-refused to get dressed again. He cried and shouted when they wanted to weigh him and when they wanted to measure the circumference of his head. Yes, he's been difficult, but this was hard to take, because for the most part we have the most mellow little boy on our hands. It is weird, but you really do want them to show off a little for their healthcare provider and barking, "NO! STOPPIT!" at the staff wasn't what I considered to be a shining example of his emotional or linguistic accomplishments.

Then at the end, they have to take a tiny tube of blood for lead and Hemoglobin; as well as give him 3 IM injections: H1N1 vaccine, HIB, and seasonal flu vaccine. During the finger stick, he observes the blood leaving his body with such intensity and curiosity that he could have been filming a commercial for summer science camp for toddlers. I'm dumbfounded that this didn't upset him AT ALL! The shots were a different story. He cried that heartbreaking cry that causes lesser moms to refuse to vaccinate their kids as part of the herd.

It didn't help that the appt was at 11am (lunch time at day care); and we weren't done in there before noon (30 minutes after the regular starting time of his daily nap). We wrestled him into his car seat and he screamed and cried a snot-fest of mucus onto the front of his shirt. He fell asleep about 3 highway miles into the trip home and Kt stopped at the pharmacy to fill his antibiotic Rx. When we got him home, he woke up, growled at me, and "declined" tylenol or his prescription dose. Then he slept for FOUR hours!!!! It was bizarre and unexpected and apparently just what the doctor ordered.

He woke up such a different person that Katy wondered aloud if the vaccinations might have acted a bit like shock therapy treatment. Upon waking, he looked at me and asked, "Mommy, I have a hug?" We cuddled for a bit and I picked up the spoons of tylenol and Cefdinir that he all but spit out at me immediately before the nap. I said, "Can you please take your medicine now?" He did without a word and then after swallowing it right down he looked at me, put a hand on my cheeks (as if he was about to say, "I love you,") and said, "Mommy. That's yummy."

(hee hee hee).

After the first 5 days of the drug treatment, JB is back to his sweet old self. He has a follow up ENT appointment in Dec and then we'll know what his ears look like. With any luck, this is a fluke and he will not need more tubes.

In the mean time, ML has picked up a wet cough and a sneeze that had his moms shitting a brick a few days back. Thursday and Friday we were desperate and frantic that he might spike a temp and we'd have to take him back to the hospital. He seems to be stable now (still has the cough, though) and he turns 8 weeks tomorrow. So that is good. He has enough to worry about with the health problems that might actually be real without being admitted as "R/O sepsis" and being exposed all over again to all those hospital germs.

We had a birth to 3 assessment done on ML on Friday. Generally they said our almost 8 week old is socially "right on track" but more like a 5 week old in terms of motor function. Not surprising after having spend 7 days of your 53 day old life in the hospital and also having had a fever and seizures and anti-seizure medication... but it was still a little sobering for his moms.

It has been a wild ride these last 2 months. I feel steady and charmed in terms of my good fortune. Still, I was in a department store during my lunch last week and I heard a child crying. It was a serious and desperate cry and it seemed to me misplaced at a department store. It was similar to the cry I heard from ML when they had to sick him 3 times to get an LP. And something deep inside me wavered. For a moment, I thought I might have to get down on the floor and lay there for a 10 count, right there in Ikea. It was like a wave of nausea and was gone as quickly as it rolled in. But it make me realize there's some stuff going on deep down inside me that I should probably pay attention to...

We moved into our new house last night. It is not really organized nor are all thing things done that I wanted to be done before we moved in. But I finally figured out what everyone else pretty much knew: we are never going to be able to move forward without staying here- there's no incentive to succeed and march forward on the TO DO LISTS unless our family is living here and not-yet-completed projects are affecting our daily life.

So here are a few of my favorite JB-isms and stories of the moment.

New negotiating tactic:
Me: Okay, let's go, put this shirt on...
JB: Umm, hmm, HOW'BOUT... this one over here, Mommy.

New stalling tactic or getting himself out of trouble tactic:
"I gotta go potty"
I swear this kid can squeeze out 4 drops of urine any time he wants to!

He's really great with ML and often says, "Look at ML, he's laughing at me... You're funny ML. Good boy, ML."

Just plan super cute at dinner: After eating a spoonful of peanut butter and wordlessly and unintentionally contorting his face (genuine "yummy", "sticky" and "peanut butter is hard-to-swallow" faces) JB lunges for his glass of water and gulps a bunch down. Then he looks up at his amused parents who have also said nothing this entire time and says, "I'm better now."

Priceless.

I don't know what he ate but...

Worst diaper change to date... ever.
Gross and gross.

I'm afraid I'm going to have nightmares about it.

Newsletter: Month 18

Bless me JB for I have sinned... It has been more than 3 months since your last newsletter.



I can't even believe how far off the train I've fallen... You can blame your baby brother or sister for this. Even though s/he isn't even fully developed yet, let alone born, s/he is already affecting the undivided attention that you've come to expect from your mommies.



Let me explain. No time to essplain... Let me sum up: Your mommy got your mama pregnant about 3 months ago. There was a lot of nausea (and some vomiting) at the beginning and you were very often barely in bed before your mama was asleep. The division of labor was upset, and there was a lot to do that didn't involve the (often pointed out to me by non-bloggers) very indulgent practice of posting snippets of our life up on the web.



Ironically (or perhaps predictably) so much has changed developmentally in these 3 months, that I'm not sure how to sum it up or break it down. You have a huge vocabulary now... you will repeat most of what we say, but you have words that you can conjure up with minimal prompting. Sometimes, you just sit and come up with words. It's like you might be flipping through a mental Rolodex and when you shout them out randomly as you consider them. Last week in the car, you kept repeating, "fire" (Fie-her) a word that you had just learned at Nana and papa's house. Then a few minutes later you kept repeating "owl". I couldn't understand what you were saying b/c you pronounced it like "How-ul" and b/c it was so out of context. When I asked you, "what are you saying? I can't understand what word you are saying." You told me, "how-el... hoo,hoo... howel." I looked at your mama and said, "holy (beep)!" Because I was so impressed at how you were able to communicate your point when you wanted to.



A non-inclusive list of words you know: hot, cold, up, down, water, stairs, bib, spoon, more, ball, hammer, truck, bus, car, please, thank you, help, sit, book, beep-beep, yuck, eww, ut-oh, milk, drink, coffee, sip, apple, pasta,waffle, bean, grape, stawberry, blueberry, melon, cereal, cheerios, potty, poop, tissue, snow, light, bright, arm, eye, nose, cheek, teeth, mouth, leg, foot, toe, knee, finger, head, hair, socks, shirt, shoes, hat, zipper, fire, mama, mommy, papa, nana, grandpa, granny, TT, mackenzie, cam cam, Bella, bill, barbara, heather, alisa, amanda (lots of other names from day care), octopus, walrus, fish, puppy, lobster, lion, monkey... When you say a word that ends in "K", you really enunciate the sound. Like in "Milk"... Think of the guttural sound made in Hebrew if someone said, "L'Chaim" and add that "k" noise.



You are singing (sort of) and counting. Singing usually involves you saying "ABC", or "e-i-ei-o", the word "happy" in a cute sing-songy way, then one of your parents or relatives sings the entire rest of the song for your amusement. If there is not a crowd of people staring at you, you will usually give me a mangled, barely recognizable version of the song's epilogue "Now la-no-na-ABCs, ney ney no new see with me." Your cousin, Cam sings the entire Happy Birthday, in tune, not even missing a word... When she's done you sing the solitary word, "Happy" and then let her cycle through it again solo...



Whenever any music is on, we can usually get a "hooray!" and some swaying out of you. You have 2 basic dance moves: the above mentioned rocking side to side, and the staccato demi-plie where you bend slightly at the knees and kind of bounce up and down for a few counts. You truly dance like a rhythm-less white man at this point, and we've thought of getting you a t-shirt that says, "cool kids rock" to mock the over exaggerated simplicity of your dance moves. It is brutally adorable to us. God knows we are mostly responsible for your repertoire, even though we have been trying to teach to you other dance moves (shoulder bounces, raise the roof, dance with your eyebrows, dance with your neck) no doubt, they will only enhance the perception of you as a mini Rick Ashley with top teeth precariously poised to take a chunk out of your lower lip should you roll an ankle if you get too excited while dancing.



You are very mobile and in control of your body, but you are cautious and only a little interested in climbing. You like ladders and step stools, but will mostly stay off on furniture that isn't meant for climbing. You are also a very good listener, and have taken to sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for us when we run down to the basement, for example.



Your grandpa gave you a plastic basketball hoop for Christmas and at first you were just too short to get the ball in slam-dunk style. Now you have grown, or changed your tactic, or both, and able to get the ball and put it through. Balls have emerged as one of your obsessions. There is no rhyme or reason to your obsessions, and for those who would automatically hear me say you are inclined to love any kind of ball and report that it is your natural inclination as a boy to dwell on balls, I would like to offer your other current obsessions: tissues, shoes, drawing utensils, and the letter "o". (To be fair to the gender police, you are also a truck, bus, and car/steering wheel addict.) Of all of these, the letter O is the most confusing to me, but if you go for a letter on the fridge 9/10 it is "o" and you can pick it off of my Uconn sweatshirt too.



The "tissues" game we play non-stop. You've never met a tissue or wipe, or paper towel you didn't love. You love pulling tissues out of their boxes; and you love wiping things up including your face and tables and chairs; and you love throwing tissues away... you love tissues.



Every day when you see me after I've gotten dressed, you look down at my feet and say, "shoes." I think if I came down wearing a prom dress, or a fire fighter's uniform, you would not even notice except when you looked down at my shoes.



Your behavior for the most part is admirable. You have started whining quite a bit. We try to discourage the whining and you are responsive. The scene is usually,
JB: eh, eh, eh (whiny trying to get something noises)
mommy or mama: That's whining, and it is not the best way to get things, you know.
JB: (without the previous whining tone) peeease.



The other times you have a melt down, it is usually some version of "I want to do it myself", or what I can only describe as a "You don't know me..." rebellion. Several times, we know exactly what is going on. For example, you are hungry and need to eat, but think you don't want to eat and refuse to get in the chair... you offer us every version of "NO" that you have learned (saying the word, shaking the head, swinging the arms, stomping the feet). We have found that if we just back off what we are trying to tell you to do, you circle round and do it. It seems to us like a hungry teenager, shouting, "YOU DON'T KNOW ME AT ALL!"



Some of the sweetest times with you recently involve watching you become a little more independent. You like to draw. As much as not leaving knives and dangerous objects around, we have to remember not to leave crayons and pens around b/c you like to draw and have no idea about why you should draw on paper and not furniture or walls.



You also like to go outside



and will sometimes grab my 15lb purse and sling it over your shoulder, head toward the door and say, "bye-bye". This usually means it is time to do some bird watching: "oooh, burd... tweet, tweet." Now that I am writing about this, I realize it is exactly what anti-gay groups are afraid of, that not having a dad will make you think you need a purse to leave the house. Ironically, i never used a purse at all until after you were born and I had gotten used to having a diaper bag to carry everything around. But I promise, we can replace that Lady's Bulsa with a socially acceptable backpack, or brief case and no matter what those social conservatives think, we know that boys who are comfortable carrying purses (either their own, or those belonging to the women in their lives) are probably more desirable and useful to society than the other segment of the male population.



JB, your bedtime ritual still blows our mind. Between 6:45 and 7:30 depending on how tired you seem, we ask, "Do you want a bath?" You almost always do and head toward the stairs. You can now be heard counting as we climb the stairs. Mama or I say, "one, two" you often hit "three" then we give you "four" and frequently you come up with "five"... For the rest, we are on our own, you can not be bothered to utter a number beyond five at this point, but it is clear that you get the concept. Once we are upstairs, you get your bath toys out of the drawer while we draw the tub and you throw them into the water one by one: boat, truck, truck, duck, walrus, fish, sea horse, lobster, octopus. At some point you usually ask to sit on the potty by pointing or saying "potty" or saying, "euwwww." Except for that one dumpage that solitary time, you haven't so much as tinkled in the pot, but you still want to sit there.



After your bath, we dry you, lotion you up (most days), use a q-tip on your ears. We diaper and dress you in your pjs. We read a book or two (these last few months you have started to become very interested in books); cuddle for a few minutes with your blanket and binki (the only time you use your binki these days is at bedtime and occasionally in the car); and then we put you in your crib. Oh first, we do a lap around your room and say goodnight to a bunch of things in there... always in the same order. Goodnight lion, hippo, monkey, elephant... goodnight choo-choo train, goodnight giraffe, g.n. tigger, g.n. dinosaur (x3), g.n. lizard, g.n. planets... then we kiss and hug you and put you down. And that's it. I mean maybe once a month there are a few tears and we give you "one more hug" and then you just put your head down, dig into a comfy position and fall asleep. The entire routine takes 15 to 30 minutes depending on how much lotion we apply, or how long we let you splash in the tub. And pretty much every single night, we marvel at how amazing you are to let us put you to bed without any drama.



You have clearly demonstrated your capacity for tantrums, but at 18 months old, guess what else you can do? You can whistle. I swear. You are like a Casablanca advertisement: You just put your lips together and blow, and music comes out. This never fails to astound any bystanders...



You are a super star.
We love you so much it hurts.



Your mommies

But some people think he CAN deliver gifts to all the people of the world in less than 24 hours

Today I followed Mac into the bathroom at my mom's house because I had to wash my hands at the same time that Mackenzie decided she needed to use the toilet. When I turned the water on I heard:

Mac: you washing your hands?
tt: yes, I just changed JB's diaper, so I want to wash my hands.
Mac: (closing the door) I need privacy
tt: (drying my hands) I can go and give you privacy
Mac: No, you can stay with me.
tt: Okay.
Mac: (after a few minutes of me waiting for her to do her business and watching her swing her legs back and forth while sitting on the toilet) Barack Obama is the president now.
tt: yeah, he just took the oath of office a few weeks ago.
Mac: But he doesn't bring presents like Santa.
tt: (not understanding until I repeated it out loud). That's right, Barack Obama is president, but Santa brings presents.
Mac: yeah, he is president, not santa.

True. True.

I shit you not...

I forgot to mention it earlier...

This afternoon, JB gave us the sign for diaper and we changed him - all wet- good call, son!
Then, a few minutes later, he gave us the sign again.
Katy and I looked at one another and shrugged. Then we did a little undressing in fast-forward speed, got his clothes off and sat him on the toilet.

The kid has some very obvious cues. At home when we see him straining, we ask him "Are you going potty?" We try to take that opportunity to use the word "potty" and the word and sign for "diaper". Then we're all like, "good job". Or if the expression on his face indicates excessive "straining" we might say, "It's okay, bug, you're doing great... you're going potty... hang in there, dude... good work." etc.

Look, don't judge us... this is an important part of parenting!

So, while he was on the pot, we were trying to get him to see the connection: "potty," "great job," "no diaper" etc.

There are moments in your life where you want to stop time, look at the camera and go, "Is this really happening?" I think that mostly happens when the stuff gets a little too real: at a birth, at a death, during an accident, if your spouse faints at the alter, etc. It's maybe a splash of denial when you are reconciling competing emotions like fear wrapped in eager excitement or angry stress accompanied by gratitude.

This sort of happened to me today.

He shit in the toilet.
I mean it was a completely gross moment and I was at the same time really proud and excited...

The recognition of the nastiness of the event and the silliness of our frenzied preparations as we ran him naked to the pot did not surprise me. The "excitement" and "pride" however, did catch me off guard.

There was a split second, between the excited shouting when we were trying to provide an appropriate level of positive reinforcement, when I turned toward an imaginary camera crew (a la Jim from the office) to register my moppy haired grimace and vaguely furrowed brow: "Really? Seriously? This is happening?"

Parenthood: Oh, it's getting real.