Scrubbing poo out of the carpet before breakfast is not the best marker of a good day. That's OK. I'm keeping my eyes on the Prize. We are planning our escape to an undisclosed location *.* at an undisclosed time. Having bumbled through the morning with my free-day-at-the-children's-museum virus, I put the kids down for a nap. Tip-toeing to the toaster (sing that in a squeaky voice), with my non-napping baby in one arm, I almost wish someone was witness to my deftness as I yank the toaster lever up, sending my horribly wonderful toaster pastry prize into the sky, high enough for me to snatch it with the same hand. Mmm. The only thing more rewarding than evil treats is managing to gobble them without the boys noticing.
Junk-snacking is not a great idea. This bug already botched my new workout routine after only one trip to the gym! I figured I'd be nice and not share our boogers with them. Interestingly, it seems the last time I had a bug was also the last time I blogged. I'll try not to make that a habit. I've also been "partying" with an over-clocked thyroid, which doesn't make me the friendliest mama on the block, and...also has me constantly seeking a sugar fix. Oh leetle vacation, where are youuu?
If anyone is keeping a list of things moms/wives don't care to hear, I have a few you can add. They range in severity from "*sigh*" to "OMG I don't ever want to hear that again."
1. Toddler saying: Mooooooom! Change me! Change me! (accompanied by a squishy trail of special effects)
2. Husband saying: Your toothbrush is awesome!
3. Toddler saying: Dad! Let's play poop! (proceeds to crawl between dad's legs, saying "poooo-oop!")
4. Toddler in bath hollering to me in next room: He he he! I'm tickling myself mom!
5. Toddler to dad: Take! I taked your penis and now you have a 'gina! (I think we're a little obsessed with "down there" right now)
6. Pre-schooler saying proudly: Look! I made a golf club. (holding up carefully torn page from a book)
So the other day, my sweet love sent me a business-romantic meeting request for a 7-hour "special event" that requires a sitter. I don't really care at this point if it's grocery shopping. He's made it so...intriguing, so...mysterious. I'm ready to grab my cart and go! Actually, he's a great "picker", so I know it will be cool.
Guess I'll go Neti the Drooling Yeti (i.e. irrigate my sinuses).
Showing posts with label morning routine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label morning routine. Show all posts
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Cluster Feeding and Flustered Pleading
I think I'm regressing. I dreamed last night about building a really awesome GeoTrax layout. I guess creativity can strike anywhere. What the hay, I went ahead and gave it a shot and it actually was pretty cool. I barely got it finished before I had to get back to my cluster-feeder.
Elijah surprised me by sleeping all night, two nights in a row and then began his rampage for milk. For the last 3 days and two nights I've rained milk hourly upon that boy. Somebody please send out the dove! If he's not nursing he's crying from exhaustion - no, wait, that's me. Meanwhile, the house has collapsed and I think I will too. The "big" boys are bouncing off the walls and employing some desperate attention-getting tactics. All the toys are spilled and all the noises are shrill. Gotta love those growth spurts.
Brian made a funny office joke today and I ran with it.
Two weekends ago we were trying to decide what we wanted to do. We ended up driving to the theater to see the Disney Oceans movie, but by the time we got there, the boys were asleep so we went to Ikea instead. That night Ian was very disappointed to return home without having seen the movie. This weekend we asked Ian what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to go see the fish movie. We were surprised he remembered it (I don't know why we would be surprised - he remembers everything). We took them to the movie Sunday afternoon and it was pretty good. I think Discovery had better narration and cinematography in their Earth and Life programs. What most amused me was listening to Ian's narration. It was an hour and a half of comments like:
That's a sad song. He's lonely for his mommy.
Ian got distracted with some popcorn and I pointed to the screen, saying, "Manatee." "Yes you may," he replied.
That's Nemo! That's lots of Nemos!
That's loud! Then quiet. Then loud. That's scary loud.
Mom, I can't burp real loud.
Two crabbies! That's a happy crabbie.
I want to leave the movie. I'm done now.
Isaac has better diction than Ian, but then again, Isaac is our little Mockingbird. I was changing Isaac and Ian comes up and says, "Hi Igick." Isaac replies, "I-zick. Can you say 'I-zick?'" Isaac enjoys discovering sound effects and thinking of words to say. He will be puttering with a toy and say, "Say 'pillow'." Ian repeats, "piwow." "Say 'pil-LOW.'" "Piwow." "Say, 'business.'" "Igick, I'm building a dangerous house." He babbles so much, it's unfortunately easy to tune out, so Isaac has turned to saying something, waiting a split second and following up with "I tode-ju...!" Sometimes he even talks over himself to say it. For instance, a 1-minute period may go like this: Fire truck fire truck fire truck. Good night ladies. Good night ladies. I'm go'n leave you now. Ring roun da rosie. Pop goes Isaac! Dinosaur is eating man. I'm going to jump. May I jum - I TODE-JU MAY I JUMP?!
Ian is our Thinker-Builder. He makes curtains for his trolley cars.
I actually exchanged these for ones with more foot coverage, but you get the idea. They are called Vibram Five Fingers. I won't go into all the foot-health benefits they claim, but they are fun and about as close to painless barefooting one can get without years of rigorous callous-building. I run around with the boys in the backyard with them and feel a little giddy. I glide (at least in my mind) across the bumps and dips of the terrain and feel agile and sure-footed, unlike the guesswork of running in regular shoes. We went to Line Creek last weekend and I tromped seamlessly from rocky-rooty trail to slipery-cool streambed. I couldn't resist sneaking out of the water for a moment to hit a creek-side trail like a swift ninja. Nevermind the 32-year-old mommy-body bounding down the path with more undulation than typically present in a ninja. That was somebody else.
Elijah surprised me by sleeping all night, two nights in a row and then began his rampage for milk. For the last 3 days and two nights I've rained milk hourly upon that boy. Somebody please send out the dove! If he's not nursing he's crying from exhaustion - no, wait, that's me. Meanwhile, the house has collapsed and I think I will too. The "big" boys are bouncing off the walls and employing some desperate attention-getting tactics. All the toys are spilled and all the noises are shrill. Gotta love those growth spurts.
Brian made a funny office joke today and I ran with it.
The Cube-liette (The Cubicle Dungeon): Improving productivity through misery.
Two weekends ago we were trying to decide what we wanted to do. We ended up driving to the theater to see the Disney Oceans movie, but by the time we got there, the boys were asleep so we went to Ikea instead. That night Ian was very disappointed to return home without having seen the movie. This weekend we asked Ian what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to go see the fish movie. We were surprised he remembered it (I don't know why we would be surprised - he remembers everything). We took them to the movie Sunday afternoon and it was pretty good. I think Discovery had better narration and cinematography in their Earth and Life programs. What most amused me was listening to Ian's narration. It was an hour and a half of comments like:
That's a sad song. He's lonely for his mommy.
Ian got distracted with some popcorn and I pointed to the screen, saying, "Manatee." "Yes you may," he replied.
That's Nemo! That's lots of Nemos!
That's loud! Then quiet. Then loud. That's scary loud.
Mom, I can't burp real loud.
Two crabbies! That's a happy crabbie.
I want to leave the movie. I'm done now.
Isaac has better diction than Ian, but then again, Isaac is our little Mockingbird. I was changing Isaac and Ian comes up and says, "Hi Igick." Isaac replies, "I-zick. Can you say 'I-zick?'" Isaac enjoys discovering sound effects and thinking of words to say. He will be puttering with a toy and say, "Say 'pillow'." Ian repeats, "piwow." "Say 'pil-LOW.'" "Piwow." "Say, 'business.'" "Igick, I'm building a dangerous house." He babbles so much, it's unfortunately easy to tune out, so Isaac has turned to saying something, waiting a split second and following up with "I tode-ju...!" Sometimes he even talks over himself to say it. For instance, a 1-minute period may go like this: Fire truck fire truck fire truck. Good night ladies. Good night ladies. I'm go'n leave you now. Ring roun da rosie. Pop goes Isaac! Dinosaur is eating man. I'm going to jump. May I jum - I TODE-JU MAY I JUMP?!
Ian is our Thinker-Builder. He makes curtains for his trolley cars.
He makes toilet-paper capes for his cars. He uses his blocks to build houses with couches and TVs and lamps and slides for his little block "people". He is the boy that sits and pats his friend's back while his friend is being disciplined. Instead of talking about what he will do when he grows up, he says, "When I grow down, I will be a little baby and you will 'nuggle me and hold me and I will laugh and cry, 'wahhh' and nurse you and do all the fings I can do. He went to "check" on "Bebe 'Lijah" lying in his Kickin' Coaster (an AWESOME baby seat, by the way) and inspected his toes and said, "This piggy went to market, this piggy stayed with Dad, this piggy laughed, 'ooh hoo ha ha,' [skipping a toe] an' dis piggy runned away."
I've been loving my crazy new birthday shoes.
I actually exchanged these for ones with more foot coverage, but you get the idea. They are called Vibram Five Fingers. I won't go into all the foot-health benefits they claim, but they are fun and about as close to painless barefooting one can get without years of rigorous callous-building. I run around with the boys in the backyard with them and feel a little giddy. I glide (at least in my mind) across the bumps and dips of the terrain and feel agile and sure-footed, unlike the guesswork of running in regular shoes. We went to Line Creek last weekend and I tromped seamlessly from rocky-rooty trail to slipery-cool streambed. I couldn't resist sneaking out of the water for a moment to hit a creek-side trail like a swift ninja. Nevermind the 32-year-old mommy-body bounding down the path with more undulation than typically present in a ninja. That was somebody else.
Friday, May 7, 2010
This week has been a blast
Spring is here and the diapers haven't even melted yet. Every morning I've been playing Waffle House with my new cast iron two-burner griddle. The item apparently on the boys' menu is pancakes. I mixed it up one day and made them SpongeBob Eggs.
Isaac ate his right up, but Ian only wanted to talk to his. I finally cut it into pieces and said it was a Sponge Bob puzzle for his belly to do.
Elijah had his PET/CT scans last Tuesday. They looked quite clear and he will start his maintenance course of chemo on next Tuesday - yay! That means we have to go up only once every 3 weeks.
I'm a million years behind on my documentation, so here is a quick run-down of items for the personal archives - no story line, no fancy transitions - nothing.
One day, I hear from the shower, "Bong! Bong!" "Ouch, Ian! That's not a bell!!" I'll let your imagination fill in the details.
Ian has the most adorable new word. I'll use it in a sentence. "Ian, where are your shoes?" "I don't underknow." He does have a way of phrasing things quite effectively. We've had the pleasure of entertaining a stomach virus at our house this week. Ian told me his tummy hurt. I asked him if it hurt like he had to poop. He laid on the floor and said, "It hurts like I want to lay right here until I get up." That's pretty much exactly my sentiment.
I taught Ian about Elijah's soft spot on his head. I described that it is a place on his head that has no bone yet. When Brian came home, Ian said, "Elijah doesn't have any bones there. I gived him one of my bones so he could be safe."
While playing outside one evening, Isaac looked up at the crescent in the sky and exclaimed, "The moon is chomped!"
Ian likes to make random announcements to invisible spectators. One time while playing blocks with him, Ian stood up and faced his audience saying, "Hi, my name is Ian. I'm building a tower and this (motioning) is my best friend, Mom."
While on a walk, we acknowledged Ian's friendly gesture of waving to a passing car. He said, "I was a gentleman!"
Actual Seuss line: This one I think is called a Yink. He likes to wink. He likes to drink. Ian's version: ...he likes to drink and have fun with the guys.
Ian coughed & said. "I'm ok." He coughed again and said, "I'm ok again." He coughed a third time & said, "I'm ok a six time."
I'm really anxious for Isaac to decide to potty train. Every so often I bring up the subject. During a really messy change, I asked Isaac, "Would you like to try using the potty? Having poop in your diaper must feel so uncomfortable." "No." "What if I got you a little potty just your size?" "No." "We have a little green potty and a little white potty with stickers!" "(pointing to the supplies) Get mine clean diaper!"
One time Ian inspected Elijah's toes and kissed his head and hugged his belly and said "I'm just right for him." And, he sure is! He adores his baby brother and takes the best care of him.
I think that about covers it.
Brian's dad has had the enjoyment of rolling into town during our "potty relay" week. We're probably loads of fun, but I'm sure glad he's here! He's keeping the boys alive while I lie curled up in bed, trying to contain my innards. When the big boys woke up yesterday, I told Ian to go find Grandpa and he'd make them breakfast. Ian replied, "No, I'll find you and you'll make me breakfast." I tried to remind him that Grandpa loves cooking and, "he'll make it just like you like it." "No, he won't!" Ian protested. "He'll make it too spicy!" Later in the kitchen, Ian was still not convinced, as Grandpa started some pancakes. "Look, Grandpa is making you tasty pancakes!" "No! He'll make them crunchy!" I'm not sure why that would be a problem. As I mentioned in a previous post, he seems to have a taste for blackened pancakes.
The three oldest men in the house have gone off in search of Pedialyte and Preggie Pops, two delicacies for our nauseous, dehydrated selves to enjoy. I was going to nap with Isaac and Elijah, but Elijah decided I would stay up. Ahh, the best-laid plans.
Isaac ate his right up, but Ian only wanted to talk to his. I finally cut it into pieces and said it was a Sponge Bob puzzle for his belly to do.
Elijah had his PET/CT scans last Tuesday. They looked quite clear and he will start his maintenance course of chemo on next Tuesday - yay! That means we have to go up only once every 3 weeks.
I'm a million years behind on my documentation, so here is a quick run-down of items for the personal archives - no story line, no fancy transitions - nothing.
One day, I hear from the shower, "Bong! Bong!" "Ouch, Ian! That's not a bell!!" I'll let your imagination fill in the details.
Ian has the most adorable new word. I'll use it in a sentence. "Ian, where are your shoes?" "I don't underknow." He does have a way of phrasing things quite effectively. We've had the pleasure of entertaining a stomach virus at our house this week. Ian told me his tummy hurt. I asked him if it hurt like he had to poop. He laid on the floor and said, "It hurts like I want to lay right here until I get up." That's pretty much exactly my sentiment.
I taught Ian about Elijah's soft spot on his head. I described that it is a place on his head that has no bone yet. When Brian came home, Ian said, "Elijah doesn't have any bones there. I gived him one of my bones so he could be safe."
While playing outside one evening, Isaac looked up at the crescent in the sky and exclaimed, "The moon is chomped!"
Ian likes to make random announcements to invisible spectators. One time while playing blocks with him, Ian stood up and faced his audience saying, "Hi, my name is Ian. I'm building a tower and this (motioning) is my best friend, Mom."
While on a walk, we acknowledged Ian's friendly gesture of waving to a passing car. He said, "I was a gentleman!"
Actual Seuss line: This one I think is called a Yink. He likes to wink. He likes to drink. Ian's version: ...he likes to drink and have fun with the guys.
Ian coughed & said. "I'm ok." He coughed again and said, "I'm ok again." He coughed a third time & said, "I'm ok a six time."
I'm really anxious for Isaac to decide to potty train. Every so often I bring up the subject. During a really messy change, I asked Isaac, "Would you like to try using the potty? Having poop in your diaper must feel so uncomfortable." "No." "What if I got you a little potty just your size?" "No." "We have a little green potty and a little white potty with stickers!" "(pointing to the supplies) Get mine clean diaper!"
One time Ian inspected Elijah's toes and kissed his head and hugged his belly and said "I'm just right for him." And, he sure is! He adores his baby brother and takes the best care of him.
I think that about covers it.
Brian's dad has had the enjoyment of rolling into town during our "potty relay" week. We're probably loads of fun, but I'm sure glad he's here! He's keeping the boys alive while I lie curled up in bed, trying to contain my innards. When the big boys woke up yesterday, I told Ian to go find Grandpa and he'd make them breakfast. Ian replied, "No, I'll find you and you'll make me breakfast." I tried to remind him that Grandpa loves cooking and, "he'll make it just like you like it." "No, he won't!" Ian protested. "He'll make it too spicy!" Later in the kitchen, Ian was still not convinced, as Grandpa started some pancakes. "Look, Grandpa is making you tasty pancakes!" "No! He'll make them crunchy!" I'm not sure why that would be a problem. As I mentioned in a previous post, he seems to have a taste for blackened pancakes.
The three oldest men in the house have gone off in search of Pedialyte and Preggie Pops, two delicacies for our nauseous, dehydrated selves to enjoy. I was going to nap with Isaac and Elijah, but Elijah decided I would stay up. Ahh, the best-laid plans.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Three For Me
Wowee Kazowee, I think I've nearly survived my first day solo with my three munchkins. To go back a bit, we brought Elijah home on Friday, March 26, with his NG tube, his apnea monitor and an overwhelming list of care-taking instructions. A home health nurse met us that evening to set us up with our tube-feeding pump and to make sure we were comfortable with flushing his CVL and changing his dressing and fortifying breast milk and giving his meds. What a strange first night.
It was our intention to actually use the apnea monitor - not as frequently as suggested, but maybe for some peace of mind at night. Well, we never left a tube feeding unsupervised, so we didn't use it then. We thought he might sleep well, since he was used to crib sleeping in the hospital, but he was apparently done with that, and with the amount of breast feeding that he and I both wanted to do, I ended up leaving him at my breast all night, just as I had done with my first two. Even two feet away in the cradle, I couldn't hear him breathe (yes, yes, that's what the monitor was for), so I had much more peace of mind with him snuggled up close.
As I had hoped, within a week, my milk supply was up 'n at 'em and we decided to "risk" removing the NG tube. It would be time to change it out soon anyway. He did fine with exclusively breast feeding. He had no spit ups and seemed to only need the tummy medicine during and shortly after his chemo medicine days.
It was SUCH a lifesaver having Brian's mom here. She provided the stability for the boys that we couldn't have given them, and she kept the house together too - and she made it all look so easy! She even graciously stayed an extra "extra" week so we could feel more comfortable that Elijah was going to do well. Sadly, but understandably, she drove home today with Brian's dad.
The first thing the older boys did this morning was try to run upstairs to see Grandma, even after I reminded them that she had gone home. Later, Ian heard a noise and asked who made that noise and said, "Maybe it was Grandma." Maybe it'll sink in after a couple days.
The boys were used to Grandma's tasty Jiffy pancakes and wanted them again this morning. I got them going on my new 20" cast iron early birthday present. With impeccable timing, Elijah decided to need an immediate diaper change. I don't know if I felt relief or dismay when Ian requested more "black pancakes."
While nearing the end of the drive home, Grandma called and talked on the answering machine for Ian and Isaac. Ian picked up the phone and started trying to talk to her, so I helped him turn the phone on and he took off on quite a conversation. I'm not sure what all was said on the other side but I was hearing something like, "Oh! Did you call me one the phone? Oh! I'm doing fine. I'm not crying. I played with Miss Emily and Luke [yeah right], two cars over here, 6 cars over 'ere and all 'ese fings. Elijah is good. Igick is good. Are you 'ere, Gramma? Oh. Elijah is drinking mommy's milk. Mommy is a fweet girl. She is feeding Elijah. He is so hungry and so firsty. [picks up toy phone] I can talk with two phones. Laaaaaa la laaaaaaaaaa laaaaaaaaa laaaaaaaaaaaaa. [forgets about real phone and starts playing with toy phone]" "Ian, is Grandma still talking to you?" "Hello are you there, Gramma? She's not there." I take the phone and say hi. Grandpa answers. O.K., I guess technically Grandma wasn't there.
Speaking of Grandpa, the other night Ian was enjoying a Juicy Juice soda. He took it around to everyone to offer a sip. When he got to Grandpa, Grandpa politely declined, saying it had too much sugar and he can't drink sugar. Ian slurps a sip of soda and hands the can back saying, "Here you go. I drank off the sugar for you." I'd say that's a very marketable talent he has.
So, congrats to me. I actually managed to feed my older boys twice today, and the youngest multiple times, and it all happened without anyone screaming or wounding themselves. I even got the two youngest to sleep at the same time, thanks to my use of Grandma's jaw-dropping method of simply telling Isaac to go take his nap (who woulda' thunk that would actually work?!). I never feel great about the quality of time I spend with the walking, talking children until the baby can at least sit or crawl or otherwise become less time and effort intensive. My tactic for now was corralling everyone in a room with strategic use of the television when I had to tend to baby. I'm sure in no time I'll be back to my old self, storming the town with my barely-controlled posse of pre-schoolers...and their new "Baby 'Liijah."
It was our intention to actually use the apnea monitor - not as frequently as suggested, but maybe for some peace of mind at night. Well, we never left a tube feeding unsupervised, so we didn't use it then. We thought he might sleep well, since he was used to crib sleeping in the hospital, but he was apparently done with that, and with the amount of breast feeding that he and I both wanted to do, I ended up leaving him at my breast all night, just as I had done with my first two. Even two feet away in the cradle, I couldn't hear him breathe (yes, yes, that's what the monitor was for), so I had much more peace of mind with him snuggled up close.
As I had hoped, within a week, my milk supply was up 'n at 'em and we decided to "risk" removing the NG tube. It would be time to change it out soon anyway. He did fine with exclusively breast feeding. He had no spit ups and seemed to only need the tummy medicine during and shortly after his chemo medicine days.
It was SUCH a lifesaver having Brian's mom here. She provided the stability for the boys that we couldn't have given them, and she kept the house together too - and she made it all look so easy! She even graciously stayed an extra "extra" week so we could feel more comfortable that Elijah was going to do well. Sadly, but understandably, she drove home today with Brian's dad.
The first thing the older boys did this morning was try to run upstairs to see Grandma, even after I reminded them that she had gone home. Later, Ian heard a noise and asked who made that noise and said, "Maybe it was Grandma." Maybe it'll sink in after a couple days.
The boys were used to Grandma's tasty Jiffy pancakes and wanted them again this morning. I got them going on my new 20" cast iron early birthday present. With impeccable timing, Elijah decided to need an immediate diaper change. I don't know if I felt relief or dismay when Ian requested more "black pancakes."
While nearing the end of the drive home, Grandma called and talked on the answering machine for Ian and Isaac. Ian picked up the phone and started trying to talk to her, so I helped him turn the phone on and he took off on quite a conversation. I'm not sure what all was said on the other side but I was hearing something like, "Oh! Did you call me one the phone? Oh! I'm doing fine. I'm not crying. I played with Miss Emily and Luke [yeah right], two cars over here, 6 cars over 'ere and all 'ese fings. Elijah is good. Igick is good. Are you 'ere, Gramma? Oh. Elijah is drinking mommy's milk. Mommy is a fweet girl. She is feeding Elijah. He is so hungry and so firsty. [picks up toy phone] I can talk with two phones. Laaaaaa la laaaaaaaaaa laaaaaaaaa laaaaaaaaaaaaa. [forgets about real phone and starts playing with toy phone]" "Ian, is Grandma still talking to you?" "Hello are you there, Gramma? She's not there." I take the phone and say hi. Grandpa answers. O.K., I guess technically Grandma wasn't there.
Speaking of Grandpa, the other night Ian was enjoying a Juicy Juice soda. He took it around to everyone to offer a sip. When he got to Grandpa, Grandpa politely declined, saying it had too much sugar and he can't drink sugar. Ian slurps a sip of soda and hands the can back saying, "Here you go. I drank off the sugar for you." I'd say that's a very marketable talent he has.
So, congrats to me. I actually managed to feed my older boys twice today, and the youngest multiple times, and it all happened without anyone screaming or wounding themselves. I even got the two youngest to sleep at the same time, thanks to my use of Grandma's jaw-dropping method of simply telling Isaac to go take his nap (who woulda' thunk that would actually work?!). I never feel great about the quality of time I spend with the walking, talking children until the baby can at least sit or crawl or otherwise become less time and effort intensive. My tactic for now was corralling everyone in a room with strategic use of the television when I had to tend to baby. I'm sure in no time I'll be back to my old self, storming the town with my barely-controlled posse of pre-schoolers...and their new "Baby 'Liijah."
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Here we go a waffling
Today has been a fairly typical day. I wake up to Isaac's sweet voice on my right, going "broom broom BROOM!" I crack an eyelid, wondering as I do every morning in our blacked-out room, to what time they let me sleep. Isaac is propped up on a pillow driving a monster truck.
A few moments later, Ian animates and sits up with an enthusiastic "Good morning, mom!", followed by "Is baby making more milk?" He stopped breast-feeding at about two and a half, rather reluctantly, due to my first trimester discomfort and rapidly diminishing milk supply. I explained that my body stopped making milk for a little while and was busy building a baby brother, but when baby comes out, my body will make lots more milk. Since then, he's been my milk sentry, making sure baby doesn't leave his post at the milk churn.
Ian next inquired, "Where's my flashlight?" I ease open a second eyelid and grunt into a sitting position. I look down to the floor and see the flashlight among some other toys. "It's on the floor, being guarded by the Christmas dog." Ian peers down, giggling, "Well, that's kinda really funny", retrieves his torch and sets off to scare some monsters.
I turn the fans off and the lights on and start gathering the day's clothes. Isaac swings open a dresser door, says "bye bye" and closes himself up as best as he can. The glazed-over red-faced expression heralds my next duty.
Ian drags his potty to its position in front of the TV. I put on GPB, set the sleep timer and head off to make breakfast. I make a somewhat Mickey Mouse configuration of waffles and sausage and in the midst of peanut butter-ing, I hear Isaac cry. I mentally triage the situation and determine it's not a pain cry, but more one of annoyance. Ian's usually pretty well locked-in when the TV goes on, so chances are it was self-inflicted. I keep spreading. He keeps crying. I set down the knife and head toward the bawling. Ian shuffles out of the bedroom, bound at the ankles by his pants, to tell me "Igick is crying." That's because "Igick" is trapped in the bathroom, not yet able to operate a door handle. Unlike his older brother who was sitting two feet away and able to muster the effort to waddle all the way to the living room, but not....oh, nevermind. I free Isaac and offer my sympathy.
Ian announces his potty accomplishments, and I take them to be flushed. As I swirl the pot with soapy water, I ponder with disgusted amusement the irony and frequency with which I find myself performing tasks like this with PEANUT BUTTER ON MY FINGERS. Isaac decides my sympathy job was lame and starts his 'stage cry'. While scrutinizing the soapy pot, I verbalize more sympathy. Not good enough. Isaac whirls me around by my pants leg so I can also see on his face the utter agony and affliction he has suffered. I properly comfort him and shoo them to the breakfast table. Ian sees the glorious waffles and celebrates, "Oh fank you, mom!" I get two sippy cups of milk poured while Ian is asking for his waffle to be cut into smaller pieces. I deliver the milk and start to cutting, when I notice Isaac's food has dematerialized. How does he do that?!
Later at lunch time, the boys plop down at their table. As I'm pouring drinks, I hear Ian launch into his speed prayer. It goes something like "Dear God, fank you for God, please bless evy-one. [Arms fling out to perform a giant clap]. AA-MEN!" I feel a surge of pride that my little guy, who'd often rather bypass the ritual, remembered the blessing all on his own. Mid-meal, Ian stands up, walks around the table and dutifully slurps applesauce off of his brother's shirt, then returns to his seat.
I take the opportunity to talk about tomorrow being Thanksgiving. I talk about the time with family and friends, the delicious meal and how we will think about all the things we are thankful for. I tell them how thankful I am for my sweet boys, their fantastic daddy and the health and happiness God has blessed us with. I tell them I am thankful that Grammy is feeling better from her appendix surgery, I express my gratitude for the beautiful weather, good friends and that all our needs are met. I turn to Ian and ask what he is thankful for. "Straws!" Well, he does make a good point.
A few moments later, Ian animates and sits up with an enthusiastic "Good morning, mom!", followed by "Is baby making more milk?" He stopped breast-feeding at about two and a half, rather reluctantly, due to my first trimester discomfort and rapidly diminishing milk supply. I explained that my body stopped making milk for a little while and was busy building a baby brother, but when baby comes out, my body will make lots more milk. Since then, he's been my milk sentry, making sure baby doesn't leave his post at the milk churn.
Ian next inquired, "Where's my flashlight?" I ease open a second eyelid and grunt into a sitting position. I look down to the floor and see the flashlight among some other toys. "It's on the floor, being guarded by the Christmas dog." Ian peers down, giggling, "Well, that's kinda really funny", retrieves his torch and sets off to scare some monsters.
I turn the fans off and the lights on and start gathering the day's clothes. Isaac swings open a dresser door, says "bye bye" and closes himself up as best as he can. The glazed-over red-faced expression heralds my next duty.
Ian drags his potty to its position in front of the TV. I put on GPB, set the sleep timer and head off to make breakfast. I make a somewhat Mickey Mouse configuration of waffles and sausage and in the midst of peanut butter-ing, I hear Isaac cry. I mentally triage the situation and determine it's not a pain cry, but more one of annoyance. Ian's usually pretty well locked-in when the TV goes on, so chances are it was self-inflicted. I keep spreading. He keeps crying. I set down the knife and head toward the bawling. Ian shuffles out of the bedroom, bound at the ankles by his pants, to tell me "Igick is crying." That's because "Igick" is trapped in the bathroom, not yet able to operate a door handle. Unlike his older brother who was sitting two feet away and able to muster the effort to waddle all the way to the living room, but not....oh, nevermind. I free Isaac and offer my sympathy.
Ian announces his potty accomplishments, and I take them to be flushed. As I swirl the pot with soapy water, I ponder with disgusted amusement the irony and frequency with which I find myself performing tasks like this with PEANUT BUTTER ON MY FINGERS. Isaac decides my sympathy job was lame and starts his 'stage cry'. While scrutinizing the soapy pot, I verbalize more sympathy. Not good enough. Isaac whirls me around by my pants leg so I can also see on his face the utter agony and affliction he has suffered. I properly comfort him and shoo them to the breakfast table. Ian sees the glorious waffles and celebrates, "Oh fank you, mom!" I get two sippy cups of milk poured while Ian is asking for his waffle to be cut into smaller pieces. I deliver the milk and start to cutting, when I notice Isaac's food has dematerialized. How does he do that?!
Later at lunch time, the boys plop down at their table. As I'm pouring drinks, I hear Ian launch into his speed prayer. It goes something like "Dear God, fank you for God, please bless evy-one. [Arms fling out to perform a giant clap]. AA-MEN!" I feel a surge of pride that my little guy, who'd often rather bypass the ritual, remembered the blessing all on his own. Mid-meal, Ian stands up, walks around the table and dutifully slurps applesauce off of his brother's shirt, then returns to his seat.
I take the opportunity to talk about tomorrow being Thanksgiving. I talk about the time with family and friends, the delicious meal and how we will think about all the things we are thankful for. I tell them how thankful I am for my sweet boys, their fantastic daddy and the health and happiness God has blessed us with. I tell them I am thankful that Grammy is feeling better from her appendix surgery, I express my gratitude for the beautiful weather, good friends and that all our needs are met. I turn to Ian and ask what he is thankful for. "Straws!" Well, he does make a good point.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Yes, sir. Right away, sir.
I snagged a couple windows of opportunity to dress the boys before breakfast this morning (obviously taking the huge risk that they will soil them beyond recognition by meal's end). I jumped into some sweats and slippers before Ian's turkey sandwich requests turned riotous. After the three of us finished a lunchy breakfast, I thought aloud, "I guess I should get dressed now. My two boys are dressed. I should be dressed too." Ian replied, "Your boys are dressed, but their feet are cold. How about some socks?"
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