Dearest Jack:
I have an urgent request for you. I would like to ask that, in the event you once again decide to scare your Deal Ol' Mom witless, you certainly do so, but with methods far less dramatic than running crazy fever all weekend. I promise that I will be (or act) just as terrified and confused if you, say, jump out from behind the closet door. Or dump a bucket of ice water on my head. Or eat your vegetables at dinner.
Seriously, dear boy, there are non-self-destructive ways to get after your Mother. Please choose from a staggering variety of those, next time.
May 30, 2011
May 28, 2011
Maya, frustrated this morning, while trying unsuccessfully to pump out baby lotion onto Dad's hair: "Mama, it doesn't work! It needs new batteries."
Jack, having just crossed his nine-months mark (go Jack!), decides that our instructions from the pediatrician to get him a physical therapist to help him learn to sit are for the birds, and sits freely on his own the day after. He can't quite sit up from his usual belly-flop position, but he sat for almost half an hour today once I sat him up, can balance on his own which he couldn't do just a few days back.
Jack, having just crossed his nine-months mark (go Jack!), decides that our instructions from the pediatrician to get him a physical therapist to help him learn to sit are for the birds, and sits freely on his own the day after. He can't quite sit up from his usual belly-flop position, but he sat for almost half an hour today once I sat him up, can balance on his own which he couldn't do just a few days back.
May 25, 2011
Picking up Maya from daycare, I ask if she needs to use a potty. She says yes, shuffles over to their miniature potty, pulls her pants down, lifts up the toilet lid, and stands over it. Completely and totally like a boy, about to pee down her legs any minute. "No!" I say emphatically. "Baby, we don't pee that way, you need to sit down." Maya grows defiant, insisting that this is how she'll pee from now on because she's a free individual. Or something similar. Takes me and Shelby (one of the teachers) to talk her off her stand-to-pee high horse, and she's upset.
Some day I intend to address the proper reasons. Some day.
Some day I intend to address the proper reasons. Some day.
May 23, 2011
Double
Maya's newest gem (when referring to a pair of something): "two tof them," with an extra 't' for good measure.
She's still the best.
She's still the best.
May 15, 2011
Leaps and bounds (and boundaries)
My little gent is all over the place (literally, as well) with things he can do, things that are quickly changing. He's graduated to the toddler insert bath (the fun inflatable one that fits inside our guest bathtub) and is learning to appreciate it. He still produces some grumbles on being first submerged and made sit in it, but a toy - any toy, the more chewable, the better - quickly resolves the grumpiness. Plus, I discovered he's a big fan of me 'swimming' him: holding him under his head and tiny butt and floating him on his back, back and forth.
He's also on his hands and knees since earlier in the week... I'm starting to think he'll fully crawl before he fully sits up. Which is fine. The frequency of his up-at-'em kind of rolling back and forth, while up on hands and knees, seems to be doubling daily. Strong, growing, sweet boy. He does his mama's heart a LOT of good.
Maya's been battling small but pesky cold, which left her nose red and very roughed up, which is not pretty, nor is it comfortable for her. So the episodes of her acting out and misbehaving are up as well. I suppose she's also picking up on some of the adult tension, and I'm regretting in any way affecting her. She's a sensitive flower child, I don't want any permanent emotional scarring...
He's also on his hands and knees since earlier in the week... I'm starting to think he'll fully crawl before he fully sits up. Which is fine. The frequency of his up-at-'em kind of rolling back and forth, while up on hands and knees, seems to be doubling daily. Strong, growing, sweet boy. He does his mama's heart a LOT of good.
Maya's been battling small but pesky cold, which left her nose red and very roughed up, which is not pretty, nor is it comfortable for her. So the episodes of her acting out and misbehaving are up as well. I suppose she's also picking up on some of the adult tension, and I'm regretting in any way affecting her. She's a sensitive flower child, I don't want any permanent emotional scarring...
May 13, 2011
Watching Jack perform an agile (and speedy) army-crawl across the floor of his room, I thought today that he's growing, and fast, and that there's a part of me that misses my tiny baby boy. Of course, a much larger part of me is psyched about his development and health and progress, but still - while infanthood is much tougher, it's such a special, sweet time.
He's a definite boy. He favors loud noises (particularly the ones he produces himself, usually by banging various objects together, or on the floor, or on his table); he giggles at fake sneezes; he attempts to get to electric cords and stick his hands under the rocking chair. Yay... Sigh. I can see "Ma, see how far I can pee!" and spitting contests in the near future...
He's getting bigger and stronger very fast. Still not sitting fully independently, but doesn't seem that it's far off. The Crawl has been very entertaining - he's really a pro at it now. A couple of flip-flops back to front to back, and a toe push-off, and hands to knees coordination, and he's already across the room. Big Jack...
He's a definite boy. He favors loud noises (particularly the ones he produces himself, usually by banging various objects together, or on the floor, or on his table); he giggles at fake sneezes; he attempts to get to electric cords and stick his hands under the rocking chair. Yay... Sigh. I can see "Ma, see how far I can pee!" and spitting contests in the near future...
He's getting bigger and stronger very fast. Still not sitting fully independently, but doesn't seem that it's far off. The Crawl has been very entertaining - he's really a pro at it now. A couple of flip-flops back to front to back, and a toe push-off, and hands to knees coordination, and he's already across the room. Big Jack...
Booty?
Maya: "Mama! I fly up in the sky - I will be Buzz. And you will be Boody."
That's right. Boody. Not Woody.
She's awesome.
That's right. Boody. Not Woody.
She's awesome.
May 11, 2011
Bam!
Poor Fairy... not only did she pick up a slight cold yesterday, she also smacked her face on the edge of the dining table while fooling around on her foot stool, and had her left eye swell up all nice and fat. She looks like a self-induced pirate, albeit a charming one.
However! In the process, she learned to spray her own nose with saline (and has done this about seventeen times), as well as allowed me to ice-compress her goose egg. She really is the sweetest kid - with trauma issues.
However! In the process, she learned to spray her own nose with saline (and has done this about seventeen times), as well as allowed me to ice-compress her goose egg. She really is the sweetest kid - with trauma issues.
May 08, 2011
Here, lizard, lizard
Things from motherhood that continue to make me crazy-laugh: Maya, watching me use the bathroom right after her: "Mama! You went to the potty! Good job. Now," in the tone of an experienced proctologist and reaching for the toilet paper roll, "let me wipe you." ... Wow. I had to decline, politely.
Yesterday, coming home with Jack from Kroger (Allan and Maya gone to PawPaw's), I found all shoes off the shoe shelf near the front door. Complete chaos. At first I thought maybe Maya did that before leaving, but then realized I didn't see it earlier in the day. Since I left the back door open while we were briefly gone, I figured *something* got in the house and cats made the chase of it. But neither cat was lying in wait nearby, so I figured whatever it was, they got it, and hoped to not find yet another killed hummingbird near the fireplace. Nothing surfaced in obvious places by the time I went to bed.
Tonight, after washing several large things, including Jack's floor quilt, I was loading the dryer. As I shook out the quilt, a large, dead, limp, wet, tail-less lizard fell on my foot.
Only unending, incredible love for my sleeping children prevented a murderous scream born in grossed-out shock that bubbled up in my throat. Kids, if this doesn't tell you I love you, I don't know what ever will.
Yesterday, coming home with Jack from Kroger (Allan and Maya gone to PawPaw's), I found all shoes off the shoe shelf near the front door. Complete chaos. At first I thought maybe Maya did that before leaving, but then realized I didn't see it earlier in the day. Since I left the back door open while we were briefly gone, I figured *something* got in the house and cats made the chase of it. But neither cat was lying in wait nearby, so I figured whatever it was, they got it, and hoped to not find yet another killed hummingbird near the fireplace. Nothing surfaced in obvious places by the time I went to bed.
Tonight, after washing several large things, including Jack's floor quilt, I was loading the dryer. As I shook out the quilt, a large, dead, limp, wet, tail-less lizard fell on my foot.
Only unending, incredible love for my sleeping children prevented a murderous scream born in grossed-out shock that bubbled up in my throat. Kids, if this doesn't tell you I love you, I don't know what ever will.
Mother's Days
(Plural intentional!)
Although if this day was acknowledged, it would really be special, somewhere deep down I know I've got 365 Mother's Days each year, from now on. While there is an abundance of life's stresses and frustrations, every day there are moments that are their own testament to love for Dear Ol' Mom.
The way Jack fusses when I leave the room. Not because of anything tangible, but because I'm not there. I come back, and his world is normal again.
The way Maya hugs my legs, or holds on tight, or tells me Sweet Dreams and Good Nights, or gently bites my nose in a game we play.
The way Jack laughs out loud at tickles and 'sneezes'. The way he can fall asleep on my shoulder when he's overstimulated and is having a hard time settling down.
The way Maya wants me to hold her hand when walking to daycare
Although if this day was acknowledged, it would really be special, somewhere deep down I know I've got 365 Mother's Days each year, from now on. While there is an abundance of life's stresses and frustrations, every day there are moments that are their own testament to love for Dear Ol' Mom.
The way Jack fusses when I leave the room. Not because of anything tangible, but because I'm not there. I come back, and his world is normal again.
The way Maya hugs my legs, or holds on tight, or tells me Sweet Dreams and Good Nights, or gently bites my nose in a game we play.
The way Jack laughs out loud at tickles and 'sneezes'. The way he can fall asleep on my shoulder when he's overstimulated and is having a hard time settling down.
The way Maya wants me to hold her hand when walking to daycare
May 04, 2011
Small daily details
I'm savoring Maya's current Mom Craze phase. She's loving, kissy, huggy. She's just being unbearably sweet and I want it to last and last and last, although I really should know better. But for now, I'm just loving it.
Going to bed is its own ritual, with new cute twists and turns daily. Consider:
Me: "Alright baby, good night." Lights off.
Maya: "Mama. Go take a nap, and wash your hands, and go to potty, and I'll scratch, and say Amens." All in a tone of a total list-maker, or an elementary-grade teacher. The order of things to do is a separate crack-up reason.
In the morning, after getting out of bed and slowly coming out of sleep: "... Mama! I woke UP!" With enthusiasm - slash - joy which, in an adult, I would call a good fake.
Jack (in other news) is laughing. On purpose. When I imitate sneezing. Especially at the long 'ah-ah-ah... ' part preceeding the actual imitated sneeze. He looks on with this sly look of knowing we're having fun, and that's ... awesome. My little man is coming into his own. He'll be an amazing little boy to get to know more once he starts getting around and attempting to verbalize stuff. But this look of "I'm onto you" warms my heart. It lets me feel like I get him, and he gets me. Just a great feeling.
Going to bed is its own ritual, with new cute twists and turns daily. Consider:
Me: "Alright baby, good night." Lights off.
Maya: "Mama. Go take a nap, and wash your hands, and go to potty, and I'll scratch, and say Amens." All in a tone of a total list-maker, or an elementary-grade teacher. The order of things to do is a separate crack-up reason.
In the morning, after getting out of bed and slowly coming out of sleep: "... Mama! I woke UP!" With enthusiasm - slash - joy which, in an adult, I would call a good fake.
Jack (in other news) is laughing. On purpose. When I imitate sneezing. Especially at the long 'ah-ah-ah... ' part preceeding the actual imitated sneeze. He looks on with this sly look of knowing we're having fun, and that's ... awesome. My little man is coming into his own. He'll be an amazing little boy to get to know more once he starts getting around and attempting to verbalize stuff. But this look of "I'm onto you" warms my heart. It lets me feel like I get him, and he gets me. Just a great feeling.
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