A Visual Catch-Up Guide

To help you cope with my usual delinquency, I have created a visual catch-up guide of the recent history of the Cummings family, covering our three Christmases, and into the new year. 

On the first third of Christmas, I achieved, on the 15th shutter release, a nearly-focused snapshot of my three miniature men about to open their Georgia-based gifts. 

What followed this shot was a verrry leisurely opening, inspecting, assembling and playing of new toys. We took pleasure in the non-carnage of the event. Hours after commencement, gifts sat unopened, as each toy was thoroughly appreciated, leaving our nervous materialism alarms unsprung. P.s. When, and if, I find those evil little loss-prevention gnomes, with their nubby, nimble little fingers meticulously binding toys to hidden crevasses of their packaging, there'd better be some gnome-loss prevention yetis nearby to bind *my* limbs.

Next, we continue to BJs Wholesale Club, where we "wrapped up" some last-minute shopping, and I shrunk Ian back down to pocket-sized.

Everyone, meet Gene Gnome, Dad's birthday Father's Day Christmas present. My free time has made itself somewhat scarce lately.

Finally, the Wednesday before Christmas, Elijah started walking, so in retribution, I packed the car, strapped him  (and his brothers) in the van and drove to Florida.

Everyone began feeling properly spoiled. Isaac and Aunt Ashley pressed cheeks.

Uncle Jack grinned from ear to ear.

Elijah and Grammy shielded their eyes from the glorious Christmas inferno. According to Ian, this is appropriate Christmas decoration, in contrast to my "Christmas shrine" - a table top tree with a token handful of ornaments, stuffed into a corner of the living room. I agree.

On the second third of Christmas, Aunt Ashley and Uncle Adam amuse themselves trying to stuff Elijah into his Santa suit. Elijah amuses himself by masterfully resisting.

Oooh! Dada a do! Do doo!

Starting stocking stuffers.

Grandpa Jim is so funny!

Elijah's first wrapping paper party.

On the third third of Christmas, Ian and Grandpa saw some meat.

Elijah narrates the festivities.

Mr. Isaac looking handsome in his Frosty vest.

Ian rings in the New Year.

Statler and Waldorf give their condiments to the chef.

Chef Boyardee does it again! Perfect pancakes, served with a smile! 

Aunt Kelly reels in amazement as Captain Isaac, Space Ranger, launches to the moon in his new Fatheronium-powered rocket.

Whew. Christmasing is hard work.

 Ian sporting a handsome chocolate 'stache.

 Just a Georgia boy enjoying some old-fashioned Florida orange-pickin'.

 We enjoyed an evening of weenie-roasting and toasting s'mores at grandma's fire pit.

 Catching a movie (and some Zs) with Grammy.

We enjoyed the sweater weather, but Florida quickly lost its coolness.

Meanwhile, the Toys exercised a bit of passive-aggressiveness.

We decided to give Elijah an early birthday party, complete with the traditional birthday pumpkin pie.

 Returning home from two thirds of Christmas requires super-human packing abilities and a long history of Tetris playing.

 On the way home we stopped to admire the manatees and the smoking area.

We returned home just in time to be iced in for the week.

 By the end of the week, we were amusing ourselves by sliding sheets of ice off the "New Van."

 Brian discovered ice petals sliding off of the bushes.

Elijah enjoyed his first snow day, Tupperware-sledding in the back yard.

 During our drive back to Georgia, I tried to play a new book on disk and discovered that our car CD "changer" wasn't working, but it made cents. Twelve cents, to be exact. (Thanks Ian)

After getting somewhat settled at home, the boys went to play with their friend, Luke. They wanted to decorate gingerbread cookies. That lasted about a cookie and a half, leaving mom to do the remaining dozen or so. My impatient grip, paired with a makeshift sandwich-baggie piping bag, resulted in one unsuspecting gingerbread man succumbing to a sweet, red tsunami. In an effort to clean up, most of the gingerbread men ended up with rosy sweaters, crimson jogging suits and bloodshot eyes. That got boring in short order, so I mixed it up a little with the occasional ginger cow and ginger business man.

To bring us up to date, I regret that I have no photo evidence, but I will conclude with today's highlight: Brian applying glue stick to Isaac's lips.

Isaac approached Brian with an opened glue stick, conveniently tinted purple for gluing accuracy, and asked him to put it on his cheek. Brian says, "Don't you mean your lips?" and proceeds to apply it to Isaac's lips. Then, Brian decides to find and inspect the "chap stick" lid and discovers it's glue.I think he missed a fabulous opportunity. In fact, maybe I'll give the "chap stick" trick a crack next time it starts to get a little wild in the house.

Eureka! I've found my floor!

Here we are, home again, with three merry iterations of Christmas sadly behind us. I've finally found enough of my floor to justify stopping to update the blog. It was so fantastic to be around family again for a week. We wish we could always be a part of our 'village.' Perhaps some day, everything will line up so that we can live near family again. Ian seemed to remember and be almost immediately comfortable with most everyone. Isaac too a little warming-up, as expected.

Poor Isaac. He will leap off of nearly any cliff, but is afraid of anything cute:  puppies, kittens, bunnies. It took him a hard part of the week to re-acclimate to my parents' dogs.  They were particularly scary (i.e. cute, cuddly, friendly).  Both boys surprised me with their self-control around the Christmas trees. For the most part they left them alone and otherwise remembered their 'one-finger touching' rule. It was rather hard to get to the trees in the first place with all those tantalizing presents in the way, but they restrained themselves there too.

A couple days before Christmas was my husband's niece's birthday dinner/party at his parents' house.  Ian has a particular love of all things party.  Any reason to celebrate, really.  He knew what was going on, and we could tell by the way he wasn't eating his dinner that he was saving plenty of room for cake.  Brian requested of him that he take one bite of his dinner.  Ian refused the many attempts, until Brian finally made it clear that no bite, no cake.  Ian's mouth shot open to accept the spoon.

I'm not sure the boys quite knew what to make of Christmas.  It was like a toy wonderland.  They were so fascinated with each thing they got, they didn't quite want to stop checking it out to open the next one. My family has always celebrated Christmas Eve night and Brian's family does Christmas morning, so it works out great. Some of the toys, we knew we'd better keep boxed up and our precious little boys wanted in so badly, but were very patient. When the car-packing day arrived, we truly thought it would take a miracle to fit everything in.  We did leave a couple old ride-on cars and Brian's new globe (to be shipped or brought up later), but somehow everything else made it.  It was like super-mega Tetris.

Ever since we've been home, it's like the boys' imaginations have been unleashed, surrounded by their new trains, puppets, a gourmet kitchen, ride-ons, a wooden castle, etc. I get such pleasure out of watching them work at playing and how they combine toys from one set with another.

The boys quickly transitioned back to our normal 'schedule', if you can call it a schedule.  The other night, after a bath, Isaac was crying about something. Ian, with his shirt still off, squeezed his 'breast' and said, "It's O.K., Baby, you can drink my milk." As I mentioned before, Ian has been weaned since about 2 1/2, but since he's figured out about the new baby on the way, he keeps reminding me that "Baby is making more milk for me." Finally it came out different this morning.  Ian woke up and said, "Mom. Baby is making more milk for...Baby. I'm going to have a new baby soon!"

Brian came home the other day and Ian approached him about a snack.  Ian said, "How about pizza?" Brian replied, "How about yogurt?" "How about s'ghetti?" "We only have yogurt." In his final attempt, Ian cheerfully proclaims, "We only have birthday cake!"

I ought to get back to unveiling more floor space.  I got an amazing Dyson vac for Christmas.  Before we left, I did an aggressive clean on the floor with our old vac.  I tested a strip of hallway with the Dyson and had to stare in amazement, excitement and disgust at all the stuff it sucked out of our "clean" floor! Vacuuming never sounded so fun - I'm actually looking forward to doing more. Is that the depths to which SAHM-hood has brought me? Hi ho, a derry-o, a vac-ing I will go!

Christmas Be-cation

Friday evening started our Christmas "be-cation," as Ian calls it.  I had the car ready to go when Brian arrived home early from work, so we hit the road.  That's one of Ian's favorite new phrases, by the way.  He'll tell me, "No, I do not want to go home.  I just want to hit the road." We drove until 8 or 9 and chose a Hampton Inn, predominantly for the free breakfast and inside doors.

Isaac thought the room was "yooper" (super). Ian was impressed too. They tried all the doors and drawers and buttons they could find. I started a bath for the boys while Brian dashed to the car for a few things. As I collected the boys' pajamas, they tossed two of our four towels into the tub and thrashed the bathwater with them. Brian returned and helped restore order as I milled around in a state of near-zombification. We each grabbed a hyperchild and melted into our respective Queen beds.

The next morning, I went downstairs and assembled an embarrassingly tall stack of scrumptious Belgian waffles and loaded my hoodie pockets with peanut butter and syrup. From the looks (and personal space) I was getting, it seemed no one wanted to be in the path of a very pregnant woman on a breakfast rampage. One person was brave enough to comment on how many people I must be feeding. Nevermind them, I thought.  My boys will love me for this. I sent Brian down for the fruit and drinks as the boys awakened and donned their syrupy grins. They kicked back like little princes with their catered mini-buffet.

Isaac pointed to the "yi-yoar" (dinosaur) on his shirt and roared. That apparently triggered a recollection of Ian's dream because he told me a dinosaur chomped him, but "Mommy fwat (swat) his tail and the dinosaur ran away."

Back on the freeway, we were slowly passing a semi truck. Isaac observed, saying in his toughest voice, "Big truck. Big truck. Big...where? (as it rolled out of sight)" One of their snacks was little natural fruit bits.  I asked Ian if he wanted some Fruit Nuggets and halfway through his bag he told me he likes his "chicken fruit."  Ok, no more Happy Meals.  Somehow, he also decided that the blueberry mini-muffins I brought were called "muffin dogs."

For what felt like the 20th time, we pulled into a rest stop with my bladder in a panic. I was hoping Brian would pull up and off-road for a bit for a smooth door-to-door potty transfer, but instead parked withing binocular distance of the restrooms. I chastised him and his reply was, "I thought I'd encourage you to walk a bit." The guy was just trying to be compliant with my Dr.'s orders that I stop every couple hours to stretch my legs, but in my urine-laden delirium,  I griped all the painful way to the ladies' room about him wanting to encourage me to unleash my burden all across the parking lot. Once again, the bladder muscles prevailed without incident and I returned to my human form.

The trip, as far as how the boys handled it, was extremely easy. They've become great little road-trippers. About and hour from our destination, we started hyping them up for our arrival at Grammy's house. I knew Ian remembered her when he proclaimed, "Grammy has a muffin for me!" My toddler-nutrition alarms cringed a little, but I settled back in my heated seat, grateful to not be picking up toys all day, and thought to myself, 'Tis the season!

Oh The Places You'll Go!

A couple nights ago, Ian was wrestling with Brian. At one point Ian's hand lands on Brian's backside and Ian stands, frozen. "Oh no Dad, you have poop!" he blurts as he squeezes something.  I glance over and giggle, "No, Ian, that's just Daddy's tail bone." Brian points out that Ian has a tail bone, too.  For the next 2 days, Ian would approach me bun-side first asking if I'd like to see his tail bone, and he pulls down his underwear a bit, saying, "See?" "Yes, I see it," I reply each time with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. "Yep, that's my tail bone," he replies and proudly swaggers off.

Last night we did our Georgia Christmas, so the boys have some time to play before we drive to the grandparents' for real Christmas. I was a little concerned that it would be a puny event for them, since in my memory it didn't seem like I'd gotten them many toys.  But, I think it turned out just right.  For instance, Ian gave the set of "castle people" hardly a pause before moving to the next gift.  However, when they opened their castle, Ian decided he needed a "Princess Fiona" (someone has been watching too much Shrek) to put in the tower and we reminded him about the castle people.  They've had nonstop fun with it since then. We got Ian a toy guitar and Isaac a not-so-toy drum.  All the toy drums were kind of lame and this floor drum was awesome and about the same price. Ian was hilarious rockin' out on the toy guitar. He had his eyes all scrunched closed and his head bobbing as he shouted, "Rock and roll!" Isaac got a basketball hoop, which Ian pulled over and nearly beaned his brother with (note to self: fill it with sand sooner than later). Ian also got a viewmaster. I LOVED those as a kid, and I think I still do. Ian is quite enthralled as well.  The most interesting/unique toy has to be the Kid-O Bilibo. It's even hard to describe. It's a plastic shell shaped like a flared-out helmet...sort of. It's made for open-ended play. It can be a seat to spin in, a helmet, a bowl, a turtle shell, a whatever. Isaac was scared to sit in it at first, so we put it on my head and sat under it while Ian opened his next gift.

This morning, we're sitting up in bed and Isaac pats his head and says, "Gaigick hair." Ian looks over at the bed-head and laments, "Oh no. Igick's hair is ruined!"  I've thought that about my hair some days.

Ian's philosophy is: Celebrate your victories, first; Deal with the details later.  I just heard, "Yayyyyy!  I peed on the potty!" Then, like an interesting bit of trivia, "Mom, I made a little 'plash on the wall." Sometimes he chooses to sit for the task and forgets about the aiming part. I think the puddle in the potty was incidental.

There's A New Chef in Town

I struggle with thinking of what to cook for dinner. However, when I stumble into a good-looking recipe, I'll go all-out to make a tasty meal for my guys. Frequently, the boys will poke at it if it appears too healthy or unexciting, or eat whatever part strikes their fancy. One evening, while finishing up some Christmas shopping, I'd ended up getting the boys some hot dogs, and I wasn't feeling particularly hungry. Brian was totally cool with that when he got home, because he prides himself in being able to fend for himself. On this particular evening, Ian climbed up to the table to inspect & sample Dad's wares and I heard Ian say, "Mmmm. I like this meal!" I simply had to know what had captured my son's heart, and to my disbelief, it was a sandwich consisting of a soy sausage, vegemite, probably some other condiments, and a can of beets. Apparently, only a true bachelor-at-heart can appeal to the delicate culinary sensibilities of a baby man-in-training.

I will have to say, Brian does have his strokes of genius. Perhaps this next "recipe" speaks to my own highly-refined tastes. We recently discovered the creamy goodness of Greek yogurt. After we polished off a pint of it in one sitting, Brian went to the store and returned with an additional half-dozen pints of plain Greek yogurt. He began experimenting with flavoring it, using various sweet condiments. Thus was born [insert chorus of singing angels]: peanut butter and jelly yogurt! To clarify, this is a puddle of peanut butter yogurt in a bowl beside a puddle of yogurt flavored with Brian's very own muscadine jelly. Scoop a little of each on a spoon, and voila - my heart melts. It seriously almost tastes like a pie filling. Maybe I'll try it on a graham cracker next time.

On a side note, I wrapped up a bunch of stocking stuffers for the boys. This weekend I started letting them open 2 each night (since we will do our GA Christmas sometime this week) - based on a Skinner family tradition. One of the gifts for Isaac was a pointer. It looks like a pointing Mickey Mouse hand on a stick. I'm not sure why this cracked me up so much, but I was in stitches watching him walk around pointing to things with it. He first went to the Christmas tree and gently touched a few ornaments. Our rule for the boys is, when they are near fragile things in a store, "One finger touch." That lets them satisfy their curiosity and greatly reduces the damage potential. This seemed the perfect device for the job. Ian begged a turn, and his first undertaking as Pointer-in-Chief was to aim the finger at his Dad and say, "Go out." Isaac took the plastic digit back and tried his 'hand' at banishing his father. Soon they turned to other tasks, such as pointing out imaginary bicycles and buses. Now begins the countdown until it gets lodged in a nose.

Approaching the Holidaze

I totally need to get more creative with my "veggie hiding" when cooking for the boys.  Ian saw a picture of green beans in a book yesterday and said, "green bean casserole!" Well, what can I say.  Putting them on a plate and calling them Super Green Power Rods only garnered enough interest for them to emit a few sound effects and launch them one-by-one to the floor.

Santa was generous enough to swing by our subdivision one evening.  We made a deal of it, tossing the boys in the car and letting them cruise, unbuckled, through the neighborhood as we searched for Christmas decorations. Several houses had the sidewalks lined with glowing candy canes.  The boys cheered for the candy canes, as if they had planted their own sweet selves in nearly-straight rows.  When we arrived at the clubhouse, Ian celebrates, "Yay!  We're at the North Pole!"  He shoots out of the car and up to the door, and once inside, squiggles through the throng to get a not-too-close peek.  Satisfied with the sighting, he raids the dessert table, chugs some hot chocolate and starts jumping and dancing and diving under the table.  Neither of our kids have any interest in getting close to Santa, so Ian hollers "Goodbye!" to Santa, who is busy grinning for a camera, and he prances back to the car. For the next couple of hours, he asks to go see Santa again, but it's late and we have lots of sugar to burn before bedtime.

It's probably time to start wrapping presents. We're going to have a GA Christmas and a FL Christmas. I've done an inordinate amount of Christmas shopping online this year, so hopefully the deliveries will be rolling in soon. After his drawn-out birthday and the approaching drawn-out Christmas, we're going to have to enroll Ian in a 12-Step program for gift addiction recovery.  On the first day of Christmas, I admit I'm obsessed with wrapping paper...

I'm excited to say Ian is probably officially potty-trained.  I haven't looked up the official Certified Research Academy of Potty Training guidelines, but he hasn't had any accidents, he's randomly decided he's willing to go on "big" potties (even in public places!), and only gets 'suggestions' from us right before bed or long road trips.  I'm not sure what has occurred in the blur of the last month to make all this possible. We really have done nothing but let him figure out his own body and provide choices of what undergarment he'd like to wear and where/how/if he wants to "go."

At some point we got all tangled up in our own frustration of trying to "make" it happen, so we just gave up trying, really. We'd usually describe his behavior to him and help him try to link that with what his body was telling him (You're dancing.  Your body is telling you it wants to pee.  There's your potty if you want to pee.).  We didn't think he had attachment issues with his poop/pee, but we explained that it's just parts of food he ate and other 'trash' his body doesn't want anymore.   We pointed out how when his belly grumbles, his body is telling him it wants food and he eats. When his mouth is dry, he drinks. When his nose tickles, he sneezes, and so forth, and then pointed out the potty signals. After that, we turned it over to him. No more reminders to go or anything. Maybe he just needed the time and space to figure it out himself.

Ian's been enjoying a steady trickle of gifts and cards mailed from relatives.  On his actual birthday, he got a motorized Cars racetrack that came with Lightning McQueen. He was so excited.  After playing a while, he came to me and said, "We need to go to the store and get Mater." Oh dear, he's got it figured out already. When he took a break, Isaac was turning the track on. Ian told him "No noise, baby. It hurts my ears" and turned it off. Isaac turned it on again. Ian said, "Baby, I know you want to play with it, but no more noise. It hurts my ears" and turned it off again and asked me to put it away. It's good to see he also practices tactics from those times when Mommy isn't a beast.

Isaac woke up on one of those rare occasions when Ian and I were already up, and got out of bed and walked out -- not sitting in bed crying (also rare) -- toddled past me (another rarity), inquiring, "Ian?" He found Ian in the kitchen and threw his arms around him and Ian hugged him back (getting rarer yet).  It's the cutest thing ever when they hug! Usually one is offering and the other wants nothing to do with it. Sometimes the sibling stars align, and...cute cute cute!!!

Isaac is sitting on the floor now in a pile of books. I just heard him close one and proclaim, "Great Tory!" His word combos are getting longer. Probably the best yet was when he stuck his toe up and said, "Kiss toe. Nay  bip-per hurt me (nail clipper)." Not to change topics, but I'm pretty impressed with his soccer skills too. He loves to run behind a ball and seems to have a knack for kicking.  So far I have a mechanic/engineer and an athlete/diplomat.

I've stalled long enough.  Time to go attack the Godzilla-sized pile of laundry.  :(

Ian's Happy Birthweek

Ohh, but it's been a while.  Last Friday, I ended up finishing Ian's cake. It said "Happy Brrrthday."

I sent Brian a picture of it and we got ourselves all hyped-up and decided to celebrate that evening, instead of waiting until Sunday.  Even Sunday would have been early, because his birthday is on Tuesday (today), but we were going to spend Sunday spoiling him so we could have a whole day.  Brian brought home "balloons and silly hats" (as Thomas the Tank Engine had in his birthday story).  Ian carried around his "honker" most of the evening.

He finally got to dig into his "snowy house" cake that he'd been drooling over for days.  Notice how he helps his lips to blow out the candles.

Probably his favorite toy was the set of Automoblox Minis cars we got him - little cars he can build and take apart.  They really are very awesome.  He definitely needs more of them!

Saturday night, we took him to The Rock Ranch, Truett Cathy's (of Chick-Fil-A) totally awesome ranch wonderland, to their free Journey to the Manger program.  It was incredible.  When we arrived, we filled out our 'census' papers and received our 'tax money' coins and hopped on a bus (which the boys could have ridden all night and been thrilled), which took us to the main gathering area.  We got some chili dogs and chili-cheese fries and hot chocolate.  It was fu-reeezing out!  When it was our turn to board the hay-ride-esqe wagon, pulled by a tractor (again, another thing the boys could have enjoyed all night), Ian shot off ahead and boarded, with no apparent use for the parental units.  We caught up and took our seats next to him and off into the night we rode.  We stopped next to an encampment of Wise Men, who told us about their star-studying findings.  Ian stood up and asked them if they saw the school bus.  Then he told them he was going to the manger, and that he had on his mittens.  Sure, he will cower behind our legs when we ask him to say hi to a friend at church, but he'll stand up in a wagon-load of strangers and chat up some oddly-dressed Wise Men below.  

Next we proceeded to the edge of a corn field, where we were escorted off by some Roman soldiers and directed down a torch-lit path through the corn-field.  As we entered the town of Bethlehem, we were directed to turn in our census papers and tax money. Ian faithfully coughed up the gold.  Inside was quite a spectacle.  Rows of trade booths, in probably-accurate biblical detail, lined a small clearing in the field.  There were carpenters, potters, people peddling wares of cloth and bread, people selling animals for sacrifice (that the kids got to pet), and soldiers stomping around impatiently barking orders. All along, Ian kept asking where Baby Jesus was, and so we kept up our search. As we continued down another path, we came to the Inn, which of course had no vacancy, but we were permitted a tour.  From there we followed the path to an encampment of shepherds, with their sheep in a corral.  They told us their story and pointed us in the direction of a star, bright over the corn field.  It led us to a sweet little manger scene.  The boys stood in awe, from a safe distance, and yelled "hi" to Baby Jesus. Then they yelled "bye" and "congratulations" and proceeded down the path to where a poor red-eyed fella told us a synopsis of Jesus life & sacrifice.  We hopped on another tractor ride back, listened to a sermonette, and then Ian tried to offer up a competing prayer over top the speaker's.

We returned to the gathering area, checked out the gift shop, and warmed up again to some hot chocolate before another exciting bus ride back to the van.  The boys couldn't stop talking about the school bus, but when asked what his favorite part was, Ian said he saw Baby Jesus.

Sunday arrived after a quick night and we decided to continue the spoiling (instead we earned yet another Horrible Parent of the Year award).  We took Ian to an Italian restaurant (?!) for breakfast.  He ate his favorite breakfast of banana pancakes, while Isaac scarfed his favorite -- cheesy eggs. Someone asked if we were going next door to a movie afterwards. I took the boys to several kids movies during the free summer showings and they loved it, so we thought that was a great idea.  Brian had a co-worker tell him he thought Ian would really get into the new Christmas Carol movie, so we got tickets for that.  Later, I asked Brian if his co-worker has any children and he sheepishly admitted he (obviously) didn't.  Long story short, what, in our fanciful imaginations, we thought would be a fun family holiday movie was probably terrifying for the little guy. He did hop into my lap, and I did cover his eyes a few times, and he did comment afterwards that the guy (scrooge) was scared and sad and wanted his mommy. Otherwise, he didn't seem traumatized, but I knew those images could stick with him. That night he said, "There's noooo monsters here."  Brian talked to him a bit and tried to explain the concept of "pretend" and promised to gobble up any monsters, if any were to exist. Ian seemed content with that and fell right asleep and had a calm night. But, yeah, we hang our heads and humbly accept our not-so-genius parenting award.  The next morning at breakfast, Ian said "Daddy gobbled up all the monsters."  I think he'll survive.

Sunday evening, we had a leaf-raking party and a beautiful sunset.

 

Today is his actual birthday.  It's a rainy day, so we're stuck tearing the house apart.  We are expecting a grandparents' gift in the mail, and he gets to open some cards, take some phone calls and there's still a few walls of the "snowy house" left, so there's still some celebrating to do.  We plan to take him out for ice cream, too, and that always makes his day.

This morning, Isaac woke up, grabbed my hand and started rubbing his leg with it (as to demonstrate) and said, "Get going." Ian said that last night Grandma was a giant and was mad at him.  Ian later balanced his body in "flying position" on his Sit 'n Spin handle and said he was a "golden flying horse." I think we'll find plenty to do today.

In Our Sleighday

I have approximately 8 weeks of pregnancy left. Yikes. I'm so anxious to meet our new little guy, but I keep reminding myself not to wish time away, because life is much simpler with him in my belly. Plus I'm trying to cram as much playtime in with the boys as I can before I face the excitement and guilt of caring for a newborn while feeling like a complete traitor to the other two.

I think it's a sick joke that during these last couple months, when I want to boost my reserves, I'm destined to flop around in bed all night like a spooked moose, trying to find comfort.  Listen here, my little womb-mate. I know what I'm up against. You, on the other hand, will like me much better when rested.

This morning, I gave up trying to sleep about an hour early, lit a fire and tackled some of the Thanksgiving aftermath in the kitchen.  Within 30 or 40 minutes, everyone else was up and we lazied our way through breakfast, showers and more tidying up.  I had the idea that we'd go to a mall and window shop for Christmas gift ideas, and maybe snag a few bonus sales. We piled into what Ian calls the "new van" -- a Ford Flex we picked up in August -- and headed to a mall I remembered seeing about 40 minutes away. Thirty-five minutes and two sleeping boys later, my mommy brain reset and I realized that the place I was thinking of was actually 45 minutes in the other direction. We circled the nearby shopping plaza, only to find that they were the exact same stores we had - maybe slightly bigger. Since the boys were still sleeping, we decided to head back to stores near town.

We ate some ultimo-delicious Five Guys burgers and fries and squeaked in some totally fruitless shopping that looked more like two frazzled adults dancing around a hot toddler hive, clumsily trying to untangle kid leashes from one end of the mall to the other. At one point, Ian and I broke free of Dillard's, and while waiting outside for Brian and Isaac to emerge, Santa walked by and stopped at a cluster of kids. Ian asked me where his sleigh was. I told him I wasn't sure, but he could go ask Santa. He seemed to think that was a good idea so we walked over to Santa, very, very cautiously, of course. Santa said hi and handed Ian a small toy. I prompted Ian to ask his question. He murmured "Where's the sleigh?" and Santa said it was at the North Pole getting ready for Christmas. Always the skeptic, my brain launched into self-dialogue, demanding to know how he got here without his sleigh, but my prefrontal cortex managed to keep my lips closed. Ian asked Santa if he'd found Marty's truck [One of Ian's favorite books is Santa's Peppermint Rescue. Marty is the delivery mouse for Santa's candy]. Silly Santa thought Ian was asking for a truck. Is that how Santa deals with his primary candy supplier -- feigning ignorance? Or...do we have an impostor on our hands?

As Santa walked off, up trots a horse pulling a fancy Cinderella-looking carriage. Ian tries to hop on. I try to rein him in as I crane my neck to see if the guys have made it out yet. Just in time, Brian and Isaac walk up and we all climb on the carriage and under a blanket for our complimentary ride around the parking lot. The boys love it.

Back home, Ian dashes to the refrigerator for a snack. A couple weeks ago, he ripped the child lock off, and has since enjoyed his unfettered access to Snackland. He pulled out the egg carton and begged for an egg. Brian hands him an egg. Ian holds the egg at arm length and announces, "Now a chicken's going to pop out. Bawk bawk. [Sniffs] It smells like an egg." Then he gets a look in his eye and starts to dash after Isaac. Brian swoops in to rescue the egg and cooks up a snack for the boys. Ian repeatedly asked for ketchup, honey and peanut butter on his eggs. I resist on moral grounds. He begs some more. Sigh, who am I to tell the boy what he likes.

There's a Ford F-150 in my shoe

I have a few treasured thoughts swimming around in my head this weekend, in addition to my new-found Airwalk accessory, that I'd like to hang on to.

Last night, while Brian was insulating the water heater pipes, Ian headed for one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out his kid-sized baking kit.  He climbed up to our ridiculously tall table and said, "Mom, we need to make cookies." as he pulled out his apron and wooden spoon.  Starting cookies at 7 p.m. is not what I had in mind for the evening, but I was taken with his cuteness and spontaneity.  I grabbed a couple cookie cook books and we flipped through them.  I adored hearing him ponder to himself, "Hmm, which one shall I make?  Maybe like this one...or this one."  I saw that coconut macaroons were super simple and quick and he agreed without hesitation.  As he stirred the ingredients that I helped measure, he informed me, "I'm making cookies for you, Mom.  I'm making coc'ut mac'roons."  He fit six on his little cookie sheet and the rest on a big one, all the while self-critiquing the portion sizes:  "Oops, too much.  There, just right."  He was so proud of his little macaroons and when they were cooled and on a snowman plate, he was quite the host, offering each family member a cookie, then a second, and attempted a third.  He long ago figured out that his best chance of getting a treat is to bring some for everyone.

Isaac was a big fan, too.  With the last bit in his mouth, he'd run up to his dad requesting, "One!  One!", hoping to get 'one more'.

Isaac is starting to put together small sentences.  This morning in the bath he said, "I want out."  Seeing that written down now feels slightly like I'm celebrating having put my shoes on the right feet.  Anyhow, it's the most complete thing he's said yet and as his mother, I'm excited.  He does very precious toddler things.  I love when he toddles over with a book and hefts it up onto the table saying, "Read, Mom.  Lllap."  I hoist him up onto my carefully-pronounced 'lllap' and read his 'gory' for as long as it keeps his interest, then he claps the book closed, saying, "E end."

Lately, Isaac has been running around singing "Ma na ma na" (popularized by the Muppets), thanks to a dancing, singing Christmas monster a friend gave us last year.  I keep trying to catch it on video, because it is SOOO PRECIOUS, but each time he stops singing to chase after me, saying, "Cheese!".  Not to hijack my own thought, but, "Christmas monster", you say?  Yes, Christmas is already up & at 'em at our house.  Normally, I'd wait until a more typical time to install Christmas, but we won't be home for Christmas, so starting it early made sense. We had family visiting last week, so I thought, "Hey, I have help!  Let's do Christmas!".  I put on a Christmas CD yesterday, and after Jingle Bells played, Ian remarked, "Now that was a really good song."  He's my Christmas kid.  He loves all things Christmas and has me read him Christmas stories all year long.  Aunt Ashley sent the boys something uber-cool.  It's a Christmas story that holds a recording of her reading it.  It's fantastic to have a pinch-hitter when my voice is worn from the likes of "Santa's Peppermint Rescue".


OK, the natives are getting restless, so I'm off to new adventures!