Car Craziness

Driving in the car with these kids is never a quiet experience. More often than not, there's a little humor mixed in.  Why is it that kids say some of the most hilarious stuff when they're strapped into car seats?  Kind of makes me want to bring the car seats into the house.

Kidding.

Sort of.

Lexi, at 5 years and three quarters, (and don't you forget it), is very big into "teaching" her younger sister. Yesterday, this involved peppering her with random questions. I was actually surprised that Caly(3) was getting most of them correct.  "What makes a rainbow?" "How do plants grow?" "What time of day does the sun come up?" When Caly would get stumped on a question of when Lex didn't really know the answer, she'd ask me.  I'd answer and she'd move to the next.

Then she asked Caly, "Where do babies come from?"

Caly was silent for a minute and I held my breath. I'm not scared of that conversation, but I really didn't want to chat it up about how babies were made while driving 70mph down the interstate with a squealing baby and rambunctious toddler in tow. 

Inevitably, they asked me, "Mama?  Where do babies come from?"

"Uhhhhh..."

Then Lex saved the day, "OH! I know!  They come from bellies! Of course!"

Of course indeed. I was 2 seconds away from saying, "Let's ask Daddy when we get home!" Shaun can thank me later.
_____________________________________________________

Later, as we drove through my parent's neighborhood, Lexi commented at how all of the houses were made of brick.  Caly agreed, then said,

"Yeah. And that's good. Because, you know, then the Big Bad Wolf can't blow them down."

Forget tornadoes and hurricanes, Big Bad Wolf prevention ranks as number 1 importance.  I think she has a future in national security.
______________________________________________________

Driving home from places around bedtime usually means that I'm hoping, praying, and trying to get those kids to just STOP. TALKING. FOR. ONE. STINKING. SECOND. AND. GOTOSLEEP.

Because they will talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and keep themselves awake.  It's like a ninja skill.

The car had settled into a relative silence and I peered back into the rear view mirror to see who was asleep.  No one, but hey... oh well.  Soon.

Then Sayer spotted Shaun driving in front of us and exclaimed, "MOMMY!  Dat's Daddy's car! Dat's Daddy!  Let's go TACKLE HIM!"

I said, "OK, um, maybe when we get home? We're driving!" 

Of course, when you're 2, that is so not a problem, "No, Mama!  Let's go tackle him! WIT OUR CAR!"

Yeah, he's totally not allowed to drive.

Bedtime Prayers

Our usual bedtime routine with the kids goes something like this:

1. Girls in bed.
2. One of us (and sometimes Sayer too), will go in there to sing and chat with them for a few minutes. Then we leave them to chat together until they fall asleep.
3. One of us, (and the baby too if Shaun isn't home), heads to Sayer's room to hang with him til he drifts off.
4. Baby either put to sleep or put down if he's sleeping.

This only takes about 6 hours.

Not really.

Most nights.

Anyway, the other night, Sayer had finally nodded off as did Z, so I slipped out of his room to put Z down and snuggle up with my gigantic bowl of ice cream. But walking by the girls' room, I still heard talking. No one was screaming and it sounded remarkably amicable, so I decided to eavesdrop via the baby monitor.

They were chattering about baby dolls and the next day's plans.  Finally, Lex said, "Ok Caly, I'm tired. Let's go to sleep."

Of course, Contrary Mary Caly wasn't having much of that so she started to sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Loudly.  I started to head in to tell them to pipe down when Lex said excitedly, "Oh! Caly, let's PRAY!"

Caly said OK and immediately launched into the sing-song "Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus... for our FOOOD... for our FOOOOOOOD. And our many blessings, and our many blessings... AAAAAAH-MEN. Ahhhhhh-MEN!" that they learned in church.  Lex waited patiently for her to finish and then said, "Ok, my turn!"

I turned the monitor up to catch her words, thinking she'd probably have something sweet to pray about.

"Dear God... Please make Caly be quiet. Amen."

There was actually a beat of silence.

And then, inevitably, a small voice started again, "Thank you Jesus..." and was quickly followed by, "Oh, CALY!"

(Sometimes I wonder if even God has the power to quiet that small ball of mischief).

Knock Knock...

Sayer's favorite (self-created) knock-knock joke of the moment:

"Knock-knock!"

"Who's there?"

"Ba-nana BUTT!"

And then he giggles. 

Then?

"Knock Knock!"

"Uh, who's there?"

"BA-NANA BUTT!"

And so on... and so on... and so on...

Who needs an actual punchline when you can crack yourself up?

Wordage

I have an insanely verbal 22 month old. Instead of focusing on two word sentences, the kid is speaking in paragraphs. I take little credit for this... it's just how he is. (At the current moment, he's over at the sink, grinning at me and saying, "I needa wash my hands! Dey are dirty!")  I love that he's verbal... especially when the sky is falling and all heck is breaking loose here. He's yet to master the art of guile, so I generally get a decent retelling of events:

"Cow-ee hit me!" or "I bonked Zoen!"

And it's handy when he's screaming for something:

"Sayer, what is it that you want?"

"I waaaaaaaant fench fies!"

I didn't have french fries, but at least I knew why he was shrieking.

I think he asked for french fries about 38 times in the course of that 30 minute car trip.  And then he fell asleep.  The next morning, he was all smiles.  I asked if he'd like breakfast, "Yeah!" and then I said, "How about cereal?"  He grinned, waited a beat, and said, "How bout.... fench fies!"

The kid is funny.  And apparently, thoroughly in touch with his emotions.  We were hanging out at my parents' house for dinner the other night and Zoen had just fallen asleep.  Caly started drumming on the kid table and Zoen startled awake.  I quickly shushed her and she stopped.  But because he thinks his sister hung the moon, Sayer had to start drumming too.

I had gone to check on the baby so my mom said, "Sayer, stop drumming on the table please."

He stopped.  But then he stuck his lip out, glared, and flung his arm onto the table.  Then he dropped his head onto his arm with a huff.

When we questioned, he lifted his head and said with perfect empasis, "I. Am. MAD!"  And then he dropped his head again.

We cracked up.  He looked up, grinned at our laughter, then replaced his smile with his mad face before flopping back onto his arm.

Oy.

Brothers In Cahoots

It's no secret that Sayer is enamored with his baby brother. He can't walk by the baby without giving him a kiss or tipping his head to the side and asking, "I hold Zoen, Mama, I hold Zoen?"

Half the time, he'll "hold" the baby and say, "He's laughing, Mama, he's LAUGHING!" Sometimes, I'll peer down and Z will be grinning away, other times? Zoen is fully asleep.  But hey, whatever encourages a good sibling relationship!

Yesterday, Sayer was sitting next to me on the floor as I changed Zoen's diaper.  I got distracted by something shiny, (the more tired I am, the easier it is... we've had a lot of half finished tasks around here lately), and the next thing I knew, I felt something on my leg... that unmistakable wet warmth.  I shrieked and jumped backwards before covering Z's er, bits, with a diaper.

Sayer looked at me and dissolved into giggles.  Then he got down next to Zoen's face, grinned at him, and said, "Do it again, brudder, do it again!"

Thank goodness Z doesn't have the control to follow Sayer's commands yet, because I have no doubt that little one will do exactly what his big brother asks.  (Which, combined with Sayer doing near everything his sisters ask? Um, might be dangerous).

Mr. Mischief - Also Known As Sayer

Where a newborn is delightful in his simplicity and ease, a toddler, full of complications and contradictions, is a source of smiles too.

I say smiles, because really, sometimes?  I could yell, cry, and gnash teeth.  But it's more fun to laugh, so... that's where I land.

Yesterday, I took Zoen back to my room to change him and decided to rock him for a bit in the relative quiet to see if he'd settle to sleep.  The girls came tearing back into my room, "MOM! MOM! Come quick! Sayer is putting water in one of the cups!"  I took my time getting up, (because really, how much damage can water do?  Yeah, go ahead and laugh at me now), and reached my doorway to intercept the girls racing towards me again.  "MOOOOOM!  YOU HAVE TO COME RIGHT NOW!"  Then I heard Sayer shrieking.  I ran into the kitchen, fearing that he accidentally turned on the hot water.

Nope.  This is what I found instead, (and yes, I took pictures before I got him down).

I'm still not 100% sure I know how he got up there.  I'm just thankful that I had done the dishes that day.

He's a mess.  But a cute mess.  Just a few minutes ago, he was pestering loving his baby brother when I came over to redirect him.  (His love is a little... rough).  When he tipped his head back to look at me, I commented on the chocolate on his chin.  He grinned, pointed to it and said,

"Lick it!"

The boy knows I like me some chocolate... but um, not that much.  (Gooey chocolate drool isn't exactly my taste).

Last night, he was in Shaun's lap, alternately noggin-ing* Shaun and loving on his brother.  (He loves his brother a lot, it seems).  Suddenly he started bouncing his belly against the baby, sumo-style, and saying, "I GET ZOEN!" and giggling.

Poor Zoen.  I suppose it's a good thing he's packing on the pounds already.  Padding.

*Noggin-ing - a la Finding Nemo where the turtles run through their "handshake" - "FIN! Noggin! DUDE!"  Noggin-ing is basically headbutting someone.  Thank you to Shaun for teaching the kids that one.

Things I'm Learning

Apparently, it's super fun for my 1 year old to interact with his 2 week old brother.

At least that's what I gathered from the giggles I kept hearing.

Then I rounded the corner and witnessed the cause.

Sayer would bop the sleeping Zoen on the stomach.  Zoen would startle and all of his limbs would splay outwards.  Sayer would crack up.  Zoen would relax and let his eyes close again. And, repeat.  Over and over again.

Sayer and I had a bit of a chat about how bonking your younger brother was NOT a good idea, regardless of how funny the reaction was.

Seeing as how I caught him doing it again 30 minutes later, I think I'm going to have to up the bodyguard patrol.

Sheesh.

Things To Remember

Today has been a difficult day with the 18 month old.  I think it's a wicked combination of my being 2 weeks away from delivering another kid, him being 18 months old and discovering that he can have an opinion, and perhaps his little body fighting off some germ or another.  Who knows. What I DO know is that he's sleeping soundly in his bed right now, and for the first time since he was quite little, I'm going to let him nap til he wakes up.

(Yeah, that's a weird thing... I wake him up almost daily from his naps because if he naps too long?  Nights are miserable.  I missed the memo on that whole "never wake a sleeping baby" thing).

Anyway, as he was sitting across his room from me shouting "NO WAY, NO WAY, NO WAY!" and not wanting anything to do with me, (or the nap I knew he most desperately needed), I started thinking that I better write down all of the cute things he says before the proverbial "Terrible 2's" arrive.  Because judging from today's tantrum?  I'm going to need some reminding.

So, excuse my sentimentality for a bit while I note my little guy's sweeter moments.

1.  I'll often tell him, "I love you [insert random nickname]!" And he started saying, "I wuv you too."  My favorite is when I say, "I love you, little man-man!" and he tells me, "I wuv you too, mama mama."

2.  He likes to play patty-cake with me lately and has been doing all of the motions.  Except that his rolling motion for "rooooooolllll it" is more like he's shaking maracas up and down.  Then he throws his arms up and shouts, "B!"  Best is when he's standing up while doing it and does his maracas dance while running in place as fast as he can.

3.  He's a champion mimic.  I realized this today when I heard him lay the verbal smackdown on his sister who was tormenting him with a toy.  "Ca-wee! STOP IT!"  It was precisely the tone I use when trying to get the kids to leave each other alone.

4.  First thing in the morning, as he's usually the first one up, he calls for me from his crib.  And every morning, when I go in there, we have this exchange, with very little variation:
M: "Good morning Sunshine!"
S: *Grins and grins* "Hi Mama!"
M: "How are you?"
S: "Good!"
M: "How'd you sleep?"
S: "Good! Hug?"
I scoop him up, he wraps his arms around my neck, puts his head on my shoulder and rubs my back.  Then he pops up, smiles and says, "Snack? Watch a movie?" and clambers down and out into the living room where I get him a little snack and we snuggle while watching Curious George and waiting for the girls to come out.  It's a delightful little way to start the morning... especially considering that I am NOT a morning person.  He charms me into grinning pretty easily.

Just a few things, but things that are particularly close to my heart as these kids fly through the childhood.  I might remember snuggles, but I want to remember these specifics too.  Because, dude... at the rate this kid is going?  He's going to be way taller than me and requesting third or fourth helpings for dinner.  (Ok, he does the latter fairly frequently).

Yup, that's my little guy.

A Big Doctor DO and Some Updating

So, I took the kids to the pediatrician last week for a well visit for the big kid and the little kid.  The middle kid just clambered along for the ride.  (I toyed with the idea of leaving her home, but there's that whole thing about not wanting the house to burn down in my absence that kind of held me back).

Anyway, this was our second visit to this particular office, first with this doctor.  We switched mostly due to location and our first visit went well enough, but I left the office, (again with three kids), completely frazzled.  The kids were typical kids and I had trouble getting to have more than 3 words in edgewise over their noise.

This time?  Quite different.  So, if you're in the pediatric profession, take note.  This particular Dr. had the magic.

We were ushered into the exam room quickly and the super sweet nurse took the basic stats from the kids.  She helped corral the littlest as I herded the big two into the bathroom.  I was kind of overwhelmed, but since that's sort of the status quo with three kids in public, that's not unusual.

Then there was the licking the exam table incident involving the kid who shall not be named.  But we won't speak of that.  (And thankfully, we've been plague free since... either she has an immune system of steel or they do a good job wiping things down between visits).

Then, the doctor came in.  Immediately, he stopped, pulled some gymboree bubbles, (those things are so much better than regular bubbles), out of his pocket and filled the room with tiny bubbles.  The kids were entranced.  They spent at least 15 minutes gleefully popping bubbles.  And you know what I did with those 15 minutes?  I talked to the doctor. UNINTERRUPTED.

Genius.

The rest of the visit continued in the awesome vein, but that little trick was far too good not to share.  If your doc doesn't do the bubble thing, maybe you could bring your own?  (I'd advise checking first).  But there's something to be said for being able to share you concerns and questions with the doctor and actually be able to conduct a two-sided, un-distracted conversation.

As for stats, here's what we ended up with for the oldest and youngest, (I was going to say biggest and littlest, but that's no longer true, as you'll see):

S(18 months): 28 lbs. and 14 oz.  Yeah, he's a big kid.  This is around the 85th percentile.  As for his height, I forget what it actually was, (and dang it, can't find the sheets), but he's actually somewhere around the 75th percentile. The doctor figures that he was mis-measured last time.  So basketball is again on the table. Maybe. And his head?  It's off the charts.  But everyone who's seen my melon headed baby boy could have guessed that.  Lots of brains.

L(5):  She was in the 50th percentile for weight and the 70th(!) for height.  The doc said that if she continues along this growth track, she's possible looking at being somewhere around 5 feet, 5 inches.  In other words, that's another kid that's going to dwarf her mother.

Both kids met their developmental milestones with no problem and the doctor remarked that he was sort of shocked at how many words S knew and how clearly he spoke. This was a relief as at his 15month appointment, the kid knew a handful of words and rarely used them.  Seems he realized that he has to keep up with his sisters somehow.  Now I can't get the kid to be quiet.  So there are three perpetual chatterboxes in our midst.

Anyway, they're happy, healthy kids and as much as we loved the doctor, we're really hoping we don't see him again until the next well visits.

And now, a completely gratuitous picture of my little (sort of) big-headed munchkin.

A Ball of Wild, a Pile of Mischief

I blogged a week or two ago about how my formerly do-no-wrong toddler son had jumped ship from sweet and innocent to wild and crazy.  Now?  He's added mischief to the mix.  With a dash of humor for good measure.

It started a few days ago when I was making dinner.  The kids were playing in the other room, generally doing a decent job mediating squabbles and as usual, making a grand mess.  I stopped mid-stir when I heard this weird clattering sound coming from the living room.  The sound was accompanied from the (decidedly delightful) eruption of my son's giggles.

So.... weird sound + laughter = well, I'm a quasi-experienced parent... and I'm fairly good at deductive reasoning so I'll clue you in just in case you're not following yet.  It equals trouble.  It's one step from hearing a loud bang followed by silence or generally, any long stretch of silence at all that does not involve sleeping children.  (Funny how the absence of sound can be more telling than a pile of noise).

Anyway, I put the spoon down and peeked around the corner into the living room.  My son was standing on the art table, sans pants. His arms were in the air and he was CRACKING up.  Moments later, I discovered what the weird noise was AND what was tickling his funny bone.

He was reaching in the color box with both hands, pulling out handfuls of crayons, and throwing them straight up into the air with wild abandon.

Oy.  

I stood there in a sort of dumbfounded awe for a few seconds which was exactly enough time for Caly to shoot a sidelong glance around the room, and, seeing no one, to climb onto the table and gleefully join Sayer in the chaos.

Apparently, there's a new ringleader in town. He's cute, he's pants-less, and he's ready to rumble. I'm so not ready for this.

(And for the record, I am STILL finding crayons in weird places).

Skype-tacular!

I admit it, I'm kind of behind the times on the whole Skype technology thing.  Which is sort of embarrassing.  I like technology.  I'm interested in new technology.  I like gadgets. Right, so anyway, with Shaun traveling randomly, or even working weird hours, we decided to start using Skype as a good way for the kids to get some face time with Daddy before bed.  The other night, we had our first test.

The kids, as expected, were completely awestruck.  Our biggest problem was their fight to be the person in front.  You know that game you played as a kid where you alternate your hands in a stack and take turns pulling your hand out of the bottom and smacking it on top of the pile?  Yeah, it was like that.  With heads.

But I gradually convinced them that they all could, in fact, fit on the screen view if they would just back the heck up and sit nicely.  They backed up.  They were still climbing over each other like spider monkeys.  They'll get to the sitting nicely thing.  When they're in their 30s.  

So, they had their fun chatting with Daddy and we said goodnight and closed my laptop.

Sayer promptly flipped right on out.  "DAAAAAAAADDDDDDDYYYY!  DAAAAAAADDDDYYY!"  The boy was royally peeved that his beloved Daddy dared disappear before he was ready.

So, I did what any sane mother would do before bedtime.  I opened the laptop again and called Shaun back. He was surprised to hear from me.  Sayer practically fell over with delight when Shaun came back on the screen, "DADDY!!  HI DADDY!"  So Shaun made small talk for a minute, said goodnight and then he quickly brought his hand up to the camera so the screen went dark.  Sayer said, "Daddy?"  Caly was silent and Lexi... well, you can't fool Lexi.  After a beat, she shouted,

"Daddddddy!  Move your big old hand!  We can't see you!"

Shaun started laughing, which made Sayer yell for him again, and so we had to start over.  But eventually, goodnights were said, we let Sayer shut the lid, (because letting him have a modicum of control works major miracles), and I hustled three giddy kids off to dreamland.

Ah, technology.  Not sure what I'm going to do when Sayer tries to dive through the screen, but for now?  Works just fine.

When Did My Ball of Snuggles Turn into a Ball of Wild?

Sayer's almost 18 months old.  Which, in and of itself, is a bit hard for me to grasp.  I don't know whether it was his personality or the fact he was a boy or even that he was the third child...  but he has always, always been the kid to fully embrace being the baby.

But now?  Now he's a TODDLER.  And being a TODDLER does not warrant being treated like a BABY.

The high chair has been utterly scorned in favor of the elevated kid chair.  (Which works out fine so long as his peanut butter and jelly painted face doesn't decide to go on a rogue mission in the midst of lunch).  The sippy cup is eschewed any time he catches sight of an open cup without a lid.  (This does NOT go over well as he's still mastering the cup arts and tends to dump the contents all over his shirt and lap).  Don't even think about carrying him when the opportunity arises for him to possibly walk.  Never mind that he likes to walk in the opposite direction of his sister. In parking lots. Where people DRIVE LARGE METAL CARS.

Yeah.  He turned 1.5, (well, almost), and suddenly he acquired some seriously strong opinions.

But I can handle all of that.  It happened in varying degrees to the girls.  It'll happen to his little brother.

But here's where I'm polishing off my crash helmet and asking, "what the HECK?!"

He's changed into the Jekyll and Hyde of snuggles/attacks.  He'll climb up into my lap and ask, "Hug?"  (Yeah, try denying that).  So we'll hug and he'll be resting his head on my shoulder when all of the sudden, he moves his head slightly, opens his mouth, and BITES me.  Of course, I screech, pry him off of my shoulder, and push his head away from my body while saying, "NO BITING!  NO!"

And he giggles, says, "BITE!" and dives in again.  So I fend him off with my hands.  When he realizes he can't bite me, he settles for repeatedly head-butting me instead. While laughing his pumpkin head off.  Eventually, I peel him off of my lap, stand up, and walk away.  Non-plussed, he'll go to play.

And then he comes back.  "Hug?  Kiss?"  And we'll snuggle for a minute until he gets that gleam in his eye... "biiiiiiiite.... BITE!"  And comes headlong at my skin for a nibble.

Wash.  Rinse. Repeat.  Sometimes we pass up the bites for head-butts.  If I'm on the ground in any fashion, he passes up both for full layout tackles.  "TACKLE!"  (Which he tends to confuse with "tickle" so he's often covering both bases by tackling and then tickling).

If I'm reading something / using a computer or a phone / trying to eat a snack, he's generally climbing on my head or shoulders.

Granted, the kid definitely still likes his snuggles.  But being that I can't ever tell when he's going to get all feisty, I can't relax...  He's like a little ninja.  A ninja with big dimples and a totally disarming smile.  I'm never going to win.

(Hmmm, wonder where he gets that look from... and the mischievous streak?  Yeah, thought so).

(And yes, we're obviously working on teaching him not to bite, etc.)

The "Lovey" Conundrum

I'm a big believer in the "lovey"...  You know, the random object that your kid latches onto and then can't be without during sleeping hours, (and some awake hours!) for most of their early childhood years?  Yeah, that.

(Though when I put it that way...)

Anyway, I love that my kids love me, but I've always wanted them to have an object of comfort that they could cuddle also. Lex, now almost 5, has had the same little blanket since she was born... Remarkably, we've never lost it for more than a few hours, (which is good since they stopped making it by the time she latched onto it...   and have you SEEN the price for those out of circulation blanket things on Ebay?! Craziness!  But I'd have paid).  She's since added a second, similar blanket and sleeps with them both.  Normal, you know?

So, seeing the success of Lex and her "night-night," we decided to introduce one for Caly when she was a baby.  This time, knowing how random the attachments could be, we guided the process a bit.  We chose one of these cute blankets and added another just in case.  In the course of her life, we've purchased 4, lost 3, and found 2...  so the kid now has FIVE of these blankets.  And insists on using ALL of them every night.  (And they're all different animals).  Bedtime is easy, so long as Monkey, Giraffe, Bear, Duck and Bunny are in bed with her.  Slightly weird, but again, not bad.

Now, Sayer.  Oh man.  I TRIED to get that kid to take a lovey. I gave him his choice like we did with Lex...  I held soft blankets while nursing like I did with Caly... But apparently, *I* was his lovey.  And he was quite content with that.  Considering that I most often nursed him to sleep, that worked out fine for the most part.  But then when he weaned, things got a little strange.  He was old enough to ask for things or to run and get them, and would frequently climb into my lap to be rocked with weird objects.  Balls... plastic figurines... nasal aspirators, (yes, that happened...  for like a week, he wanted to fall asleep with one in each hand).

Weird.

As he got older, he got way more vocal about what he wanted.  For a time, he had this strange looking baby doll, ("BABY!") that he demanded.  Then he moved onto stuffed animals.  Occasionally, he'd want to snuggle with a book.  Or a sippy cup.  Sometimes it'd be an article of clothing, like a sock. It was generally whatever happened to be in his hands before bedtime.  But it was always something.

But yesterday, things got a little hairy.  He had somehow procured the sound pad from one of those Play-A-Sound books... an Elmo one.  And every single time Shaun tried to get it away from him, he screamed like someone was pinching him.  So Shaun shrugged his shoulders and picked Sayer up to rock him, the sound pad clutched in one chubby toddler fist and a sippy cup of water in the other.

Now, not a big deal, you'd think.  But it's amazing how utterly obnoxious Elmo can be when he's cackling in YOUR SLEEPING CHILD'S EAR and causing him to WAKE UP.  Yeah.  So we had a predicament.  Take it away, and pretty much guarantee a big wake up and a screaming fit or take the chance that he would sleep through any rogue Elmo mutterings and slip it out of his hands when he lay soundly asleep.

We opted for the latter, but not without penalty...  Elmo and his evil energetic chatter roused the toddler twice but he was quickly settled.  Before we went to bed, I snuck in and slipped the offending sound pad from under his arm.

Now... now I'm sure to steer him towards softer and quieter items before bedtime... and though I'm still hoping for a conventional lovey...  I'm not holding my breath.

Snippets from the 'Ville

Lex (4) woke up yesterday, tiptoed into the living room where Shaun was hanging with Sayer (1) and exclaimed, 

"Daddy!  Last night I actually slept!  I mean, normally, I just close my eyes and pretend to sleep, but last night, I actually slept!  I don't know what happened!" 

Hmm, maybe the Monday crankies are due to all of that pretend sleeping she does.  

__________________________________________________

Caly (2) has been fighting off a little cold that's making her nose run.  No other real symptoms, but the snot bugs her. Generally, she asks for a tissue and wipes her nose herself.  Before bed the other night, I went to pick her up to take her to bed and she wrapped her arms around my legs and gave me a hug.  I smiled at how sweet it was.  Then she let go, looked seriously at my stomach and said, 

"Mama, I put boogers on your baby."  

Then she walked away.

___________________________________________________

Sayer (1) has learned a new word.  Well, he's known the word for awhile, but he uses it with a vengeance lately.  I'm becoming impressed with the versatility of his uses 

"No!"  "NO."  NOOOOOOO." "No?" "Nononononono!"

But my favorite, (yes, there is a favorite way to use the word), is when I ask him where my kisses are.  Instead of leaning towards me with a smooch, he tucks his chin inward, turns his head away, and with a smirk on his face, he says, "Noooooooooo..."  I pretend to be sad and he plants one right on my cheek.  Then he asks to do it again.  

Cuteness.

_____________________________________________________

"Mommy.  Mommy.  MOOOMMMMY!"  I vaguely registered Caly's whisper near my ear.  Bleary eyed, I peered at her in the darkness and wondered what dark hour of the night she had wiggled her way in between us.  "MOMMY!  Are you s'eeping?"  

I gave her a raised eyebrow and said, "Well, I WAS.  What's the matter?"  She wiggled closer to me, got her blanket and closed her eyes.  "Caly, what's the matter?"  

"Mama.  I am S'EEPING!"   And then she refused to say another word. 

I am SO paying her back when she's a teenager.  

Pick Your Battles

Kids are quirky.  My oldest has been seen in public with one gigantic, dangly plastic earring in her ear.  My nephew used to wear one fingerless glove just about everywhere he went.  Caly has to have a babydoll in her hand and some various toy in the other every time we leave the house.

Sayer?  Well... he's showing an early propensity for the quirky.  I was settling him down for a nap today and having little success.  You see, he came into his room wearing a plush block on his head for a hat and carrying a light up magic wand from his sisters' dress-up box.  Try settling that down to sleep.

He most certainly thought he was funny stuff, evidenced by him putting his open mouth on my shoulder, gumming it, and pulling back while yelling, "BAP!"  And then he'd crack up.

Nap time wasn't exactly forthcoming.

But I needed him to go down at some point.  So I gently wrestled the wand from his grasp.  Tears.  He calmed down after a second and eyed me.  I eyed his hat.  He grinned and whispered, "bap!"


And then he put his head on my shoulder and patted me.

The hat stayed on his head.

Now sound asleep, that's where the hat remains.

A wise person once advised:  Choose your battles.  And so?  I let this one go.  (I also obviously let the battle of getting a good photo go as well...  after those bedtime antics, I wasn't about to risk waking the kid up).

Weighty Stats

Took the two littlest kids in for very, very overdue well visits.  I was interested to see how the kids measured up against each other.  My suspicions?  I thought Sayer would at least weigh as much as Caly.

Um, he's got a half a pound on her.  I have two 26 pound children. 

With her 26 pounds and however many inches tall she is, Caly remains firmly snuggled in the 20th percentile.  She's her mother's daughter, through and through. 

Sayer and his 26 pounds obvious tip the 95th percentile for weight.  Daddy's sturdy little man.  But...  his height?  He's just over the 18th percentile.  Kid is a fire hydrant.

Before we had kids, I joked about how Shaun and I were destined to have short boys and tall girls.  Looks more like we're having short kids.  Sorry, honey...  gotta kiss those basketball dreams goodbye.  (Then again, there's always Muggsy Bogues).

Lex gets her checkup in a few months.  I'm not holding my breath that she'll be on the tall side of things. 

Hey, short kids find the best hiding places. 

My Boys

Shaun teases me and says I spoil that little one.  But Shaun can't resist him either.  While there's something unique about a Mom's relationship with her boy... there's something spectacular about watching a boy with his Dad. 

And in March, I get to see that start all over again with this next munchkin.  I think he's going to need bigger arms.

(Yes, that's Caly too...  and I know she's not a boy, but that picture was too sweet to resist.  So, my boys and my littlest girlie).

The One Where I Teach My Son the Art of the Gnaw (aka, don't read this if you're a particularly squeamish variety of vegetarian)

I'm not much of a meat eater anymore.  Never was.  Not a vegetarian though, as sometimes I feel a little... carnivorous. 

When I was a little girl, my dad would take me to the Renaissance Festival.  Food, face painting, knights, princesses, fairies, jousting, crafts, swords, and more.  What more could a kid love? 

But the highlight was always the turkey leg.  It's exactly what it sounds like.  A leg of a turkey, brined and roasted to perfection.  (Is it fried? Not sure, don't care.  It tastes awesome).  I rarely eat chicken on a bone, but I'll tear one of these up.  This year?  I taught the kids.  The only one who really took to it was Sayer.  At almost 15 months, I think he has the art of the gnaw down pat.  See for yourself:

He's giving it a once over.  Think you're going to mess with me, Turkey Leg?  THINK AGAIN!  He said that.  Really.  Ok, he didn't.  Because he doesn't quite speak with complex sentence structure.  But he THOUGHT it.  Totally. 

He looks fierce, (channeling his red-haired Viking roots?  Perhaps).  And rightfully so.  That's the only way to attack a turkey leg.  I think he did quite well for his first year.  Right Dad?

Kids and Caterpillars

After driving back from Lex's dance class today, the girls pleaded to stay outside and play.  The thought of having to go inside to referee fights, listen to whining and hungry kids, and prepare dinner was making me cranky so I thought about it.  Since the stupid heat was no longer burning my eyelids, I agreed.  When I was getting Sayer out of the car, some movement by my foot caught my eye.  It was the furriest, fastest caterpillar I've seen in our yard since we moved in.  Of course I called the girls over to investigate.

The two littles spent a good amount of time squealing and pointing while Lex tried to coax the caterpillar onto a leaf.  Sayer was particularly interested in where the bug went and followed his sister everywhere, trying to see. 

At one point, it fell into the garden and I truly thought he was going to go headfirst in after it.

After awhile, Lex got brave... sort of.  She'd let the caterpillar crawl on her hand or arm and then she'd start giggling uncontrollably.

And every time she giggled, the caterpillar would slip off onto the ground again, she'd squeal, and Sayer and Caly would crack up. 

They did it over and over and over, cracking up every. single. time. 

Lex was pretty proud of herself for finally picking up the caterpillar and by the end of the day, she was letting it crawl all over her arm, still giggling, but not flailing anymore. 

I just loved watching my three play together without fighting, arguing, crying, whining, and best of all?   Watching their faces light up like this:

I'm a blessed Mama... no doubt. 

Sayer (i.e. The Poor Neglected Third Born)

So, in the course of my summer of sporadic blogging, my little guy turned one.  I just scanned back through his 11 month entry and man, the kid is different.  Amazing what a few months will do.  Because I'm snarfly and don't have the energy for a craftily worded post, I'm going to list out a few things that I want to remember about the little dude at this time in his life.  (Because honestly, people... if I wait until I have the energy to craftily post something, he's going to be 17 before it happens).  And?  Pictures!  (Keeps the family happy)

Thanks Amy for this shot!

The little dude is starting to communicate beyond shrieking like a maniac.  His current list of clear as day words are "ball," "up," "down," "go," "mama," "pa-pa," "dada," and "button."  He also says "a!" "eight," "silly," "more," "dog," "woof," and "night-night."  He'll repeat most things back in a somewhat clear fashion and says some garbled syllables consistently for certain objects so that I know what he means, but to the rest of the world?  Not so much yet.  He's definitely not the talker that his sisters were/are but he does most things on his own program, so... I'm not surprised.

 He loves shoes.  Any shoes.  All shoes.  I have to hide shoes.  Why?  Because the kid is walking.  And albeit more of a walk than a toddle at this point, he's still not that sturdy.  So when he's trying to walk while wearing one of Shaun's shoes?  Yeah, LOTS of tumbles.   You'd think I could solve that by putting him in his own shoes.  But he's never satisfied with one pair.  He wants as many on as he can fit on his fat little feet.  The funniest/sort of saddest part?  He cries like he has a broken heart when I take his shoes off.  Every. Time. 

One other word he's mastered is "OW!"   Not only is it clear as day, but he's figured out how to yell "OW! OW! OWWWW!" at the top of his lungs when one of the girls comes by and he doesn't want them near his coveted toy of the moment.  For awhile, poor C got the brunt of, "Stop trying to take your brother's things!" until I finally witnessed his little scheme.  (Though she does her share of tormenting).  I have Lex to thank for teaching him this through her daily yelling during her hair brushing. 

He still loves his sisters and regularly doses them with slobbery hugs and kisses.  But he and Caly fight.  A lot.  And with physical intensity.  And the mere half pound of weight difference between them is no longer enough to allow Caly to emerge the victor anymore.  (Translation?  She tends to get her behind kicked).  Poor girl...  it's just going to get worse from here. 

He eats most things, but balks at new foods...  if I can manage to get him to open his mouth for a bite, he'll generally try more in his own.  He loves fruit above all things and could eat strawberries and blueberries until he dropped.  He's the first kid I've had that can take carbs or leave them.  I don't know whose kid he is in those moments. 

He adores his Daddy and loves his Mommy.  He's huggable and sweet and snuggles easily.  He's got an epic temper but doesn't often haul off and scream.  He hates being told no and makes the most adorable pouty face I've ever seen.  (It's really hard not to  laugh at him because he works it for a minute or two before letting loose). 

 
14 months old (almost) and on the fast track to big brotherhood.  And...  his hair's getting long.  Shaun wants to cut it... I say no.  (The CURLS! The red! The sweet baby-ness!  The surfer look!)

Anyway, there you have it.  Sayer's 14 month self in a little ole blog entry.  Merry merry :)