'Tis the Season for Family

Uncle E, Grandpa and Safta are in town for the week, to the delight of the boys. M has met U.E. before, but it was a year and a half ago and he, obviously, has no memories of that. It was the first time U.E. and B had met and they seemed to get along well. According to Papa Bear, I wasn't in the room at the time, B put his arms up indicating he wanted U.E. to hold him. When I entered the room, they seemed pretty cosy. Of course, B babbles to strangers in public all the time, so U.E. should not take this as an exceptional compliment or glowing personal reference:)

Last night, U.E. accompanied Papa Bear, the boys and me to dinner at a Korean restaurant. The boys were not on their worst behavior, but they weren't exactly shining examples of well-taught-manners either. M decided that it would be fun to transfer copious amounts of rice from bowl, to bowl, to bowl...leaving much mayhem in the process. B dropped utensils and anything else he could get his hands on all over the floor. At least there was no screaming on this particular outing...it has happened before. It is my personal opinion that U.E. might have left last night to schedule a vasectomy.

Grandpa and Safta showed up late this afternoon and the boys were thrilled. M ran to the door and said, "There's Grandpa. Open door, Mommy." Then he ran to show Grandpa his toys. The boys ran around between grandparents and uncle and seemed to have a fun afternoon. For some reason, they know that they get to be the center of attention with family. It must be some weird built-in genetic knowledge. Anyway, the boys were thrilled to be amongst extended family and that's all that really matters.

It's a Floater

Yesterday, we had gotten back from our "snow" trip...I'll write about that later...and Papa Bear and I decided that the boys were sufficiently stinky to warrant an emergency bath. I got the bath ready and placed M and B inside the tub. P.B. came in to watch them and take care of their bathing needs while I got their after bath essentials together.

I was just sitting down on the couch and booting up the computer when I heard, "Julie!!! Come quick!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!" It's possible that my heart leaped out of my chest, into my throat and took a flying jump out of my mouth. A mirage of horrific images slid soundlessly through my mind. Was one of my babies drowning? Had one of them banged his head on the side of the tub and was unconscious? What had P.B. allowed to happen to my angels?

As I ran towards the bathroom, which honestly felt a mile away, I heard B giggling and M say something to P.B., I knew that there were no life-threatening injuries. So, why had P.B. beckoned me so urgently?

Upon entering the hallway bathroom, P.B. handed me a towel-clad B and said, "Take B and put him in the crib and come back for M."

"Why?" I asked, "What happened?"

"One of the boys POOPED in the tub!" P.B. proclaimed, with a desperate and horrified look on his face. I have to say that at this point, I started to smirk. Yes, this was absolutely disgusting and awful. Yes, the imagery would never leave me. Yes, this was a nightmare in grossness. Yes, yes, and yes. But, I didn't have to clean this up!!!!! They say there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. This was my pot.

B will no longer be allowed to bathe without P.B. being home, because anyone who thinks I will be cleaning up fecal matter from a bathtub is smoking something illegal.

I'd Only Heard of This

I have friends who had told me about this. I had read articles where the authors "bragged" about this. I had even over heard women in grocery store lines discussing this phenomenon. However, until this afternoon, I had never had a personal experience with just such an occurrence; the child who wakes up and then quietly plays in his crib. peacefully. non-disruptively. oh, so angelically.

The kids were tucked in and sleeping like angels for their afternoon naps. Papa Bear and I were relaxing and enjoying some down time when, P.B. signaled to me. I walked down the hall with him after he indicated that B was awake and had been chatting to himself and playing in his crib for some time. As we ambled towards B's door, I was amazed. Could one of my children actually be entertaining himself? Was that even possible?

As P.B. and I opened the door, we were surprised to be greeted by a huge, sloppy grin and the outstretched arms of our youngest. B had indeed been contentedly entertaining himself. It turns out that there are children who don't scream in their cribs/beds as soon as they wake up. Good to know.

Off to School...

Papa Bear took the day off of work today so that the family could spend some together. We couldn't get our act together early enough, so P.B. took M to school. Today was pajama and movie day...seriously, what am I paying the school for? I could keep him home and do the same thing, but whatever. Anyway, I gave P.B. some p.j.'s for M and sent them off to school with M's pillow (as his teacher instructed).

After B woke up from his nap, we hurriedly got our stuff organized and rushed off to school to pick up M. When arrived in the parking lot, I made a comment about how funny M must look in his p.j.'s and rain boots (M is currently obsessed with green frog rain boots that he insists on wearing every single day. rain. shine. or other. He refuses to wear any other shoes). P.B. said, "I didn't put boots on M. They wouldn't fit over his p.j.'s, so I just didn't put any shoes on him." I sat there, mouth open and speechless...I know, hard to imagine.

Me: "Seriously? No shoes?"
P.B.: "Yeah. Why?"
Me: Again momentarily speechless. "Uh, they aren't allowed to go to school without shoes on. He could step on something sharp or dirty. It's written in the school manual." (I actually only thought the last two sentences.)
P.B.: "Did we get any phone calls requesting that we pick him up?"
Me: "No."
P.B.: "Then what's the problem?"
Me: ...

B's Ever Expanding Vocabulary

Yesterday morning, I ran to take care of some...err...business after I had given the kids their breakfast. I could hear B screaming for me, which made me feel a little guilty, but...well, duty calls. I came back into the kitchen in time to hear B say, "mooor. mama, moor." My little baby wanted more food. This was so shocking for me because, not to compare, but M never really caught the concept of language until pretty darn close to 18 months. B is just such a surprise to me.

Along these same lines...
About a week ago, I showed B the sign for milk. I sort of forgot about it because he's pretty good at getting across what he wants/needs without using the signs. At lunch yesterday, I gave M a cup of milk and then went to sit down. B started chattering furiously and seemed to get more and more frustrated. Suddenly he put down his fistful of tangerine and started showing me the sign for milk. It took me a minute to figure out what he was doing...I thought he was waving bye to me because that's how he waves. However, I figured it out and quickly accommodated him while singing his praises.

I hope that in years to come, while reading these entries, that the boys are just as amazed with themselves as I am, currently, with them.

WHAT did YOU say?

Me: I'm sorry that you're upset, but I'm not letting you use scissors right now.
M: Baba be home. You go Target!

I have to be honest, my heart broke a little...HE KNOWS WHAT TARGET IS!!!!

My Little Turtle

As the mother of a child who LOVES all things animal, I have had the pleasure (or misfortune, depending on how one views these things) of visiting the zoo many, many, many times. On one of our visits, M took the time to calmly watch the tortoises as they slowly moved around their habitat, eating, observing us, or just relaxing. The other night, late at night, I was watching a show on turtles and how they go into their shells if they feel threatened or scared. This brought to mind my little M. For the first few years of his life he has been an exceedingly cautious and observant fellow who frightened easily and, to complete the analogy, spent a generous portion of his time inside his shell. I don't state this in a negative manner or as a criticism, just as a fact. M has been an observer from the sidelines and has, like the turtles and tortoises, been eating, observing and relaxing from the cozy perch of my lap. He was slow to walk, slow to talk and slow to socialize...which was a constant source of worry from my part.

Over the past month, M has begun to emerge from the safety and security of his shell and is developing into an amazingly different person. He has emerged as a person whom I barely recognize. He has turned into an energetic ball of excitement with a yearning for more adventure. Rather than calmly sit and read his books, he now jumps and runs around the house like a maniac. He crawls over his little brother and grabs toys from both B and his little playmates. We went to a Kindergym activity and he followed the instructor around the room, acting like an elephant. He helped the teacher lift up the parachute...you know the same kind that kids have used for years at preschools across the country...and ran under it when it was high in the air, and giggled uncontrollably when it fell down upon him and the others.

At playgroup on Monday, M not only readily jumped in to playing with the toys, but eagerly showed B how to use other toys. Yesterday, when trying to leave Kelly's house, he said, "Bye, Mommy. I want to stay with Kewy. Bye, Bye B." Of course, I had to drag him out kicking and screaming, but the point is, he no longer needs me exclusively. M's head has popped out of his shell, and he is no longer leisurely and calmly observing the world around him...he is jumping in, sometimes head first.

While part of me is excited for M and oh, so proud, there is a small part of me that misses my turtle...

Yogurt

How many times does this have to happen before I learn not to let B feed himself?

"Don't make me get ugly! Hand over the yogurt!"

Monster Mystery Solved

For weeks M has been scared to pieces over the "monsters" in his closet. I have questioned everyone involved in his life...adults only, of course...to no avail. No one can seem to figure out where he has learned about the dreaded "M" word or how he "knows" that they live in closets. Quite honestly, this has been one of the most trying of stages because he just can't seem to get past this fear and I've tried everything from calmly explaining to using a "monster catcher" to capture the loathed creatures. All. For. Naught.

Well, last night Papa Bear was out at a hockey game with his boss, so I was left with bedtime duties...sigh. M has a MOUNTAIN of books on his bed that he expects to be fully perused before he will even consider night, night. This is mostly due to the fact that Papa Bear has caved in this area and allowed M to rule the roost. Anyway, I digress. While widdleing away the Kilimanjaro-sized mound of books, I came across a book that I had never personally read to M before. It's called "Things Daddy's Can't Do" and it features dinosaurs. M, excitedly, starting yelling, "Those monsters in closet there." I looked at the cover, and seeing only dinosaurs, explained that the characters were dinosaurs. M continually insisted that there were monsters, so I ignored it and began to read the book. About halfway through the book, I stopped reading and almost began laughing. Right there was a page about monsters in the closet and under the bed. Aha, so that's where M was getting this idea from. Papa Bear and I will be having a looooooong discussion tonight. It should be good times.

I'm Faklempt

For some, there is an immediate bond formed with ones child at the instant of conception. Others feel that first stirring of attatchment when they feel the first flutters signaling the movement of their babe developing in their womb. Still others know an instant and deep love the moment their eyes set upon the helpless wiggling creature at birth. For me, the love for my children has been a slow and steady progression day by day. Each time one of them has cried or smiled, rolled over or crawled, cringed from a sour taste or splashed in the bath, the deep and abiding love has grown and grown until I am now deeply and permanently in love. Each one for his own strengths and sweetness, has a permanent chunk of my heart.

For awhile now, B has been calling me "mom" or "mommom" or "mamamamamamama". Yesterday, however, B crawled up to me, raised his arms in the air and proudly proclaimed, "Mommy." How could my heart not melt on the spot? I scooped him right up for a big snuggle and lots of kisses. The sounds of his giggles are still ringing in my ears, and a slightly bigger chunck of heart is now permanently in his possession.

Oh, the joys of motherhood

I left the boys to their breakfast this morning and ran to take a quick shower. After showering and throwing some clothes on, I walked into the living room in time to see a naked M, he had been fully clothed when I left him, running towards me yelling, "I need go poo-poo on potty! I need go poo-poo on potty!" To which I, of course, said, "Go ahead." Then I started thinking...a little late, I know. M has never asked nor attempted to go #2 on the toilet and the living room is starting to smell a bit ripe. I screamed...yes, I really screamed. "M! Where's your diaper?" No answer.

I ran to the living room and saw p.j.'s and diaper on the floor. Nothing was in the diaper. Phew!!! I thought to myself, "We just dodged a gross one here." I proceeded to pick up the used diaper and throw it out. As I came back into the house, I saw the horror and was too late to stop it in its tracks. My sweet little boy. My youngest and most helpless was poking his fingers into a "log"...yes, you know what to what I am referring. I screamed, "NO!!!! B, stop it! Don't touch!" The poor baby startled and started crying. I quickly picked B up and scrubbed his hands until the skin was probably about to come off. Nastiness. Of course, I then had to clean up the "log". I probably would have started yelling at M at that point, but I guess I started to see the humor. At least it would have been really funny had it happened to someone else...

Walking, Talking and Monsters

B has really started to walk, although he still prefers the easier mode of movement: crawling. When he is standing and needs to get somewhere, he "forgets" to crawl and will walk to the next place. B is actually pretty sturdy but, like his older brother, excessively cautious and when he realizes he's walking he'll plop to the ground and crawl. Sadly, I have been less than diligent about capturing these "first steps" on camera and I fear B will be running before his new skill is stored for perpetuity.

B has begun "talking" up a storm. He chatters nonsensical sentences all the time and imitates words that I say to him. B points to an a toy. I say, "That's a truck. Truck." B says, "Tru," with a proud smile on his face. I say, "Book," as B points at one. B says, "Bu." I guess it's the kind of cuteness only a mother gets excited about.


M is deathly afraid of his room at night, these days. He cries hysterically at bedtime and wakes in the middle of the night crying about monsters in his closet or "scary" spaceships on the ceiling which are created by the shadows from his nightlight. I have tried explaining that there are no monsters or spaceships...to which I get dubious looks as if he is saying, "What you talking about, mommy?" I have tried using a "monster catcher" and pretended to catch them, on the advice of a friend. M just smiled and gave me, what can only be described as an amused look. I am at a loss and worried about his intense fears. I've been doing a great deal of research on the web regarding this and have found that this is normal and tends to peak around 3 years of age. Unfortunately, it can last up to a year...hopefully, we will all survive this. I'm still trying to figure out where he learned about monsters...I am furious with whomever he learned this from and would gladly go back in time to erase this encounter. Lacking this ability, I pray for the monsters' early demise.