Conversations With Lex

Tonight it's just my oldest and me... hanging out while Shaun takes the other two on a double-ish date.  It's been a bit of a long day, and well, I'm ginormously pregnant.  So, while eating dinner, I remarked to the 5 year old,

"Man, I'm tired."

She grinned, pushed a chair towards me and said, "Would you like to put your feet up?"

Man, the kid knows me well.  But I continued,

"Nah, I'm just going to sleep here.  I'm going to put my head down and go to sleep. At the table. OK?"

"No, no mama, you can't sleep until Daddy gets home.  You need to watch me."

(Leave it to the first born to feel that way.  Caly would have been like, "OK!" and as soon as my eyes were closed, she'd have beelined for the chocolate).

I lifted my head and said, "Nah, you're a big girl, right?  You can watch yourself."

She gave me a look and flatly said, "Mama. I can't see myself.  Not unless I look in the mirror, mostly.  So... wake up."

Well.  Alrighty then.

(Is she my mini-me, or what!?)

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.

Five Years and Some Change

My oldest turned FIVE on Thursday. FIVE, people. Which means that not only is my kid halfway to double digits, but that I've been doing this mothering thing for five years. And I've blogged 'em all. Dang!

My delightful first born is less likely to be the subject of my blog posts as she ages, most notably because she's actually developed a decent brain to mouth filter and doesn't say things like, "MY MOMMY MADE A GIANT POOP!" to ladies in the grocery store at this point.

Thank goodness.  

So, I hopped back to read through blog posts from the beginning.  Here's the first where we introduced her to my humble little following.  

They start out so, so small, don't they?

Her cheeks grew faster than the rest of her: 

She grew to explore local gangs and got her first cold:

She turned one...

She started walking... and running

She became quite the little mommy, explored alternative bath places, developed a preference for a football team, and then she turned two...

She had questionable conversations on the phone with boys, she became a great big sister, almost had a throwdown with mommy, and developed quite a fashion sense

She learned to be thankful for EVERYTHING, refined her Beanisms, and turned three:

Then, she tortured my sleep and developed a penchant for dress-up

This was followed by her becoming an expert at procrastination, further refined her Beanisms, and became cousin to Joe Cool, 

And faster than I was ready, she turned four...

Four brought an attempt at a foreign language, her looking WAY too old in my wedding veil, 

A passion for dance, and nature, 

And a host of other things that have me looking at her sometimes and wondering who took my baby and left this tiny girl with the huge personality.  

And now?  Now she's five. 

A pretty little, big-hearted, smart as a whip, silly, passionate and compassionate, lover of animals, friend of anyone, thoughtful, laid-back, easy-to-please, decidedly more little girl than baby, delightful burst of five.  

Happy birthday, sweet girl.  You made me a mama.  

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.

Knock-Knock! Who's There? Pregnant Dog! Er, What?

My kids have obviously inherited my sense of humor.  Random and completely unintentional with a penchant for the corny.  (I tried to deny the last part, but I married Shaun and he makes me laugh.  Enough said).  

Lex has learned the art of the knock-knock joke.  Sort of.  To me?  This is torture.  I hate knock-knock jokes with a fierce passion.  But I indulge her and give the required chuckle at each nonsensical (at worst) or cheesy (at best) punch line.

Unlike me, Shaun has welcomed the knock-knock phase with open arms.  Those of you who know him, know that his capacity for the cheesy knows no bounds.  He's been teaching her new ones whenever he gets a chance.  Some go right over her head, but she's wise enough to understand that even when not completely understood, a good joke will endear her to a crowd.  So she delivers the jokes with the proper pauses and basks in the giggles.

She decided to test out my parents the other night with a joke that she learned while spending the earlier portion of the day with Shaun.

"Knock-knock!"

My family answered readily, "Who's there?"

"PREGNANT DOG!"

"Pregnant do--"  They didn't get a chance to finish before she jumped in,

"WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!"  Then she dissolved into giggles.

Silence.  Puzzled silence and then a few polite laughs.  I raised my eyebrows at Shaun who was lost in his own round of guffaws.  When he paused to breath, he choked out, "Interrupting cow, Lex, interrupting cow!"

She stopped and exclaimed, "Oh YEAH!  Knock-knock!"

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow!"

"Interrupting co--"

"MOOOOO MOOOOO MOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOO!"

By this point, we were all cracking up, though I suspect most were laughing over the interrupting pregnant dog instead of the 3rd oldest knock-knock joke in history.

Who's on First?

I generally give the kids a rundown of what we're headed off to do for the day.  It usually gives them something to look forward to doing or at least helps them know what to expect.  However, sometimes that goes hilariously awry. 

"Alright everybody, let's get your shoes and sock on your feet so we can go to the doctor's office and then you can come with Mommy to vote."

Lex perked up and exclaimed, "Sissy!  We're going on a boat!"  I quickly tried to quell that rumor before I found myself dealing with missed expectations, (i.e. temper tantrums and limp limbs),

"No, no, not a boat... we're going to VOTE."

Caly piped in, "A boat!  Like da pirate boat?  They were scare-wee!"

"No, honey...  not a boat.  Vote!  Can you say V-V-V-VOTE?"

Too late.  The girls were off and running with their little boat dreams,

"Ohhh, maybe it'll be a big boat with LOTS of pirates!"

"I don't yike pirates!  But I yike boats!"

"Maybe it'll be a boat without pirates!  And we'll sail to Hawaii!"

"I want to go there!  Momma, where's da boat?  I want to get on da boat!" 

"Yeah, Momma!  Do we need our bathing suits?"

They peered at me expectantly. 

"Um...  girls?  We're not going on a BOAT.  We're going to VOTE! Voting is when you tell what you--"  One of the girls interrupted,

"Momma?  Do you vote on a BOAT?  I wanna go on a boat!"

Cue the two of them dancing around and chanting, "A boat!  Vote on a boat!"

Imagine their surprise when the voting happened in a high school gymnasium.  Yeah, talk about underwhelmed. 

(Thankfully, some skillfully produced lollipops assuaged any residual disappointments over the missed boat.  But now that I think about it...  maybe we should have a family vote about boating to Hawaii.  I think that's a cause I could get wholeheartedly behind). 

Punny! Uh, Sorta...

A few days ago, we were driving to visit family with two sleeping little people and the biggest of the little people quietly reading in the back seat.  Shaun and I were taking advantage of the quiet to actually have an uninterrupted conversation. Suddenly, Lex piped up from the back seat,

"Hey Daddy!  Do you know what Goofy likes to eat?"

He replied that he didn't know and she chirped, "Bologna sandwiches!"

A few minutes later, Shaun asked Lex,  "Hey Lex...  do you know what ghosts like to eat?"  She shook her head and he delivered the punchline, "BOO-logna sandwiches!"

Silence.  I glanced back and Lex was smiling a bit but didn't say anything.  I whispered to Shaun, "Does she get it?"  He peeked at her in the rearview mirror and shrugged.

We picked up our conversation after a few more moments of silence.

Several minutes later, she exclaimed, "HEY DAD!"

"Hey what?"

"Do you know what vampires like to eat?!"  I whispered to Shaun, "SHE GETS IT!"  I started grinning, proud that my kid actually got Shaun's joke well enough to make her own.  Then, he answered her,

"Nope, what do they like to eat?"   We waited, totally expecting to hear an appropriate punchline to finish our train of jokes.  And then... she spoke, completely deadpan,

"Blood.  They like blood.  And they sleep all day and stay up at night."

Yeah, not exactly what were expecting.  I CRACKED up, sputtering and wheezing.  There was something overwhelmingly funny about the complete miss of a joke that she delivered when were expecting something completely different.  Apparently, we have some work to do on the jokes.  Ah, 4 year olds. 

[I was laughing so hard at one point that Shaun started tossing out lines from the previous week's episode of Community to keep me going, (I'm apparently a spectacle when I'm cracking up), and when he got to this scene, I thought I was going to pee my pants.  It's completely unrelated, but I still can't watch this scene without breaking into guffaws of laughter]

Ferocious

Certain things that my kids do drive me nuts.  For instance, my oldest freaks out when I have to cut her toenails.  For the record, I've never once, not even when she was a baby, cut her or made her bleed.  (Now, the other kids... )

Anyway, she'll reluctantly give me her foot and then freak out and jerk it away right before I clip the toenail.  It's worse when she's tired.  (Which is when I always get the notion to cut her nails...  Apparently, I like a challenge). 

The other day, I called her into the bathroom, having noticed that her toes were beginning to resemble talons instead of sweet little girl feet.  She slunk into the room and gave me a look as she ever-so-slowly brought her foot up to my lap.  I held onto it, grabbed the clippers, and made a motion to go toward clipping her big toenail.  Just as the clipper touched her toe, she jerked her whole foot back and started whimpering.  "I don't WANNNNA have you cut my toooooenaaaaails!"  I gave her a look and told her to give me her foot.

And repeat. 

After 3 or 4 more times, I was completely exasperated.  I dropped my voice to a fierce whisper, looked at her and said, "LEXI. GIVE. ME. YOUR. FOOT. RIGHT. NOW!  If you keep jerking it away, I'm going to end up cutting your toe off!  NOW GIVE ME YOUR FOOT!"

We stared at each other for a split second before she dropped into a crouch, balled her hands into fists and hissed, "NEVER!" at me while punching a hand into the air.  She totally looked like William Wallace, "You can take my toenails, but you'll never TAKE MY FREEDOM!"

The whole effect was so ridiculous that I burst into peels of laughter. 

So did she. 

The nail cutting went slightly more smoothly after that.  Slightly.  At the very least, she found a way to diffuse my temper and get herself out of trouble.  Because I laugh every single time. 

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. 

Taken Down a Notch

Lex and I were chatting this afternoon while the little ones slept.  She asked me a question, I answered, and she marveled, "How did you KNOW that!?"

Of course, I replied, "Because I'm the Mama... I know everything!"

Flatly, she retorted, "No you don't."

"I don't?"

"No, you don't know everything....  But Daddy does!"

Well, hmph.

(taken with my phone)

Hold It!

My kids are fantastic little travelers. As long as I make her go before we leave, I can usually get a few hours out of Lex before we have to stop for a potty break. 

So, I'm not exactly in practice of knowing what to do when a kid starts saying, "Momma?  I have to go potty..."

I peered at her in the rearview mirror.  "Ok... we'll be there in a few minutes.  Can you hold it?"

She wiggled around for a second before she started shrieking,  "I CAN'T!!  I CAN'T HOLD IT!  MOMMA!"

I looked frantically for a place to stop so the kid wouldn't pee all over the back seat.  "Just hold it for a second, please, Lex!  Just one more second!"

"MOMMA!!!  I CAN"T!!  I can't hold it!  I can't REACH!?"

Wha--?

"Um, what do you mean, you can't reach?"

She threw me a completely withering look, "Momma...  the buckle is in the way."

Literal, always literal.

The Oldest

I hope I can always catch my girl looking this happy.  

And I hope that even when she's grown, I can still sometimes be the reason why.

The Crafty Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

I forgot to mention, as I was skittering around tying baby toys and bows to a cake made of diapers, my oldest was fluttering nearby asking perpetual questions.

"What are you doing, Mommy?  What is that?  Why are you tying that?  Can I have that cup?  How many diapers are on there?  Why is it called a cake?  You can't eat it!  Why are you putting bows on there?  Can I wear the bows?  Is this for Aunt Shell's baby?  Where is she?  Can I help?  Can I help? Mommy, can I help now?  Can I make one?"

I would have let her help, I truly would have.  But I had 15 minutes to get things together and get out the door.  So instead, I handed her a pile of diapers, some ribbon, and some various extra items and let her have a go at making her own.

With a minimal amount of help, she assembled this,

This Mama is totally proud. 

Get in MAH BELLEH!

Bean was wearing a shirt the other day that had about 12 cupcakes on it. Robin pretended to eat one and said, "Mmmmm, tastes like cupcakes!" Bean looked down and replied, "No, they taste like shirt!"

Did I mention she doesn't pronounce 'r's?

Heh, yes, it sounded exactly like what you think it sounded like.

(Which reminds me of when she was about 15 months old and started saying her name... The 'L' became an 'S'. "I Sexy!" Yeah, that TOTALLY got some looks when we were in public)*

Yesterday we went to my Grandmom's for Easter lunch. Of course, getting any kid to actually eat lunch when there's more candy than they've ever seen in their life is a bit tricky. We finally wrangled C into a seat and she asked for a hard boiled egg.

My Dad peeled it and sprinkled a smidgen of salt. She turned up her nose, shook her head, and said, "It's a leetle spicy!" Dad finally convinced her that salt wasn't spicy and she took a bite. One bite. Then said, "I all done! I have a treat!"

My dad told her she could have a treat if she ate her egg.

She sized up the egg, looked at my dad, back to the egg... then picked it up, licked it, and put it down.
"I all done! Have a treat?"

Um, good try, but no.

Dad encouraged her, "It's good! Eat all of the egg! Put it in your belly!"

She picked up the egg. Then, as we all watched, she tucked the egg carefully under her shirt onto her belly, patted it into crumbles and proudly said, "Egg in my belly! I have a treat!!"

Creative, that one.

*I know that this pretty much says Bean's real name... I'm ok with that :)

Dentist Time

I am not a fan of going to the dentist.  (I used to say that I was not a fan of the dentist, but actually, I like my dentist a lot.  He's a good guy.  It's not totally his fault that I'm absolutely phobic about his profession). 

Anyway, apparently, kids need to go to the dentist.

I know, right?

So, on Monday,  I put on my big girl pants and a brave face and took Bean for her first appointment.  This particular office was great.  They rewarded her for every step of the way (sitting in the chair, letting the dentist count and clean her teeth, etc.) and didn't push when things got difficult (like the xray).  She had a fantastic experience and is actually looking forward to going back. 

Guess my brave face worked. 

But with the good experience came some bad news.  Turns out, the kid has cavities.  Three, to be exact. 

The dentist was very nice about it and definitely didn't try to make me feel badly about it having happened...  but that didn't stop me from feeling awful about it anyway.

I do what I can to protect my kids.  Obviously, I can't protect them from everything, and I know that... But I thought I had this one in the bag.  We eat very little in the way of sweets, especially gummy sweets... I brush her teeth well at least once a day... She takes vitamins... She doesn't drink soda... She really doesn't even drink a lot of juice... Never goes to bed with anything but water...

So why does she have three cavities?

Who knows.

Even if it isn't something I could have prevented, it still makes me feel crummy.  And maybe it's not so much that I feel like I should have been able to prevent it as it is a transference of my fear.  I have issues dealing with dentistry, so she will too.

Or maybe not. 

Perhaps this is one of the first of many instances where I realize that my kid is not an embodiment of me. 

I sure hope not, in this case. 

They're taking necessary precautions to make sure it isn't a traumatic experience for her.  So it's likely that she'll head in there, get the teeth fixed, collect her treasure box prize and won't have a worry in the world about it. 

I, however, am going to need a hug.

Dude, this parenting gig is hard.

Hey, No One Claimed I Was Supermom

My girl is 4.  When she was a baby, I would schedule every doctor's visit to be within days of her actually turning that age.  4 month appointment?  At the doctors at 4 months and one day.

Then, she got a baby sister.  And the appointment keeping became a little lax.  3 year appointment?  Oh, 3 years and 3 weeks.  Not too bad.  And C's appointments were within a short distance of her age, too.  Bean was a quiet, compliant little companion, so C's appointments were no big deal.

Then the double doozy...  Sayer was born and C became VERY mobile, VERY squirrelly, and fine tuned that mind of her own.  So I did what any sane parent would do... I started scheduling someone to keep the other two kids when I had to take the 3rd to the doctor.

So Bean had her 4 year appointment today.  In mid-March.  Her birthday is in January.  Not awful...  but I have to say, had they not called me with a reminder?  Her 4 year appointment might have well been around her 8th birthday.

That being said, she's growing like a weed...  37.5 pounds and 40 inches.  That's 75th % for weight and 50th % for height.  Apparently, she's taking more after Daddy than me :)

Having her get a shot pretty much almost made me cry, and it goes without saying that she didn't like it one bit.  (The nurse said it was a stinging one).  

She aced a vision test, which was a relief considering her two blind as bats parents.

The doctor asked if I had any concerns regarding her hearing and I paused and he grinned and continued, "No, we don't have a cure for selective hearing yet."   Drat.  He read my mind. 

Hope

Will he call her for advice before he proposes to his future wife?

Will he promise to beat up the boys that break her heart?

Will she tease him mercilessly before his first date but wait up for him to come home so she can hear all about it?

Will they share inside jokes?

Will they scheme and plot to get their way when mom and dad say no?

Will she put him in a headlock and give him noogies while she's taller than he is?  Will he tackle her with payback when he's taller?

Will they always love each other so much? 

Will they always make my heart feel so full?

Would You Like A Ham-bur-gah?

We randomly try to infuse our every day with random Spanish words.  Nothing serious, but it's fun to hear them come up later.  C now regularly dubs things she likes eating as "delicioso!" which cracks me up. 

So tonight at dinner, Shaun was completely teasing me and trying to get me to roll my r's and say "churro" correctly.  (I think it goes without saying that I absolutely can't).  In between laughing at my ridiculous attempts, he tried to get Bean to say things too. 

"Bean, say, 'Me nombre es Bean!'"

"Ma tootoo la goobay!"

"No, say, 'Me nombre es BEAN!'"

"Gah simmy ley goochana!"

It was a bit like that Friends clip when Phoebe is trying to teach Joey to speak French,



Shaun tried one more time,

"Me nombre es BEAN!"

"Me nonde es TORTILLA!"

Stinker.

(And now that bits and pieces of Spanish are coming back to me, I realize she should have said, "Me llamo TORTILLA" instead :)

Sisters

They fight... oh how they fight.  The older knows how to push the younger's buttons.  The younger knows precisely how to shriek loud enough to get the older into trouble.

They battle to see who can scream the loudest or sit on the chair first or walk across the floor the fastest.  They always want to use the same cup or spoon or napkin or basket at the same time.

The older gets frustrated when the younger just. won't. leave. her. alone.

The younger gets angry when the oldest doesn't want to play.

They couldn't be more different.

But they wouldn't know what to do without each other.  They're in cahoots.  And they couldn't love each other more.

Oy

Germs. We hate 'em.

But we're on the mend. And rather than rehash our week of craziness, I'll just treat you to pictures of three delightfully healthy kids.  We paid our dues on germs with this bout, I think.  I know, I know... I should never say things like that.  Ah well.