A Slow Week

It's been a slow week for cute and hilarious stories. The boys have just been normal cute and hilarious without anything spectacular to report.

Nathan has decided to be an early bird, though. I'm not loving this new phase so much. He wakes up with the sun, basically, and doesn't want to take a nap until I've given up and gotten the house up for the day. Then he decides a nap is mandatory, when I can't go back to sleep. That one has a cruel streak, I think.

At least he's still sleeping well at night. And he's just so cute when he's awake that it's hard not to give him what he wants.

He Cracks Me Up

Thank goodness. Patrick seems to have made a complete recovery from the horrific toe injury. He woke up this morning having forgotten all about the boo-boo.

He still hobbled around most of the day yesterday, though. Matt got to see it when he got home from work, and we just about collapsed in giggles watching him limp with such exaggeration, only using the heel of that foot. I'm laughing again now just remembering.

Then he got hyper, which is inevitable these days, and forgot to limp as he walked. If I hadn't already suspected he was just fine, that proved it. I'm glad he pulled through it; it was rough there for a while (*rolling my eyes*).

If There Was Any Doubt

Patrick is so definitely my kid. Today he learned the word "boo-boo," and all of a sudden it's his favorite word.

We were outside playing with the dog (who was really more lolling in the grass) when Patrick slipped on our patio and skinned his knee--just barely. After cleaning it, however, I noticed that his toe was also injured, although whether this happened at the same time the knee was skinned I have no idea.

The toe isn't bad either, just a little skin pulled away from the top of the toenail. It looks a bit uncomfortable but nothing else. In fact, Patrick didn't even notice it until I brought it to his attention by putting a Band-aid on it--his first.

I explained to him that we were putting a Band-aid on his boo-boo to help it feel better faster and at Matt's suggestion gave him some M&M's to help it feel better (and distract him from the Band-aid that he desperately wanted to peel off).

Since then he has been oddly sedate. I've hardly coaxed even a smile out of him, and he keeps looking at the offending toe. When he got up after lunch, his first attempt walking on the foot since the bandaging, he hobbled with an obvious limp to the couch, where he has sat watching Blue's Clues intently ever since, occasionally reaching an arm down that leg, probably to play with the Band-aid, but he keeps resisting the temptation at the last second.

So he can bump his head hard against the table or something without seeming to even notice, but the second I put on a Band-aid, he puts on a show for me. I wonder where he could have picked up such dramatics about injuries...

Amber Unintentionally Calms the Boy

Patrick woke up from yesterday's nap crying. This happens often. You see, he insists on his full nighttime routine even for naps. This includes covering him with every single blanket in the house, nearly. When he's particularly tired, he forgets to shed the extra coverings before dozing off. In the winter, this isn't a big problem. Matt and I are cheap enough that we keep the house a bit cool in the winter to save on heating bills.

In the sudden summer that hit...oh, Monday here...this can be a real problem. We're equally as cheap in warm weather, so the house is fairly toasty all the time. The ceiling fans only help the problem minimally. So when Patrick forgets to toss off the covers before falling asleep, he wakes up miserably hot. Cue the crying.

There's little I can do to help him feel better until he has cooled off, so I usually give him a few minutes to crawl out from the sweat-soaked covers and compose himself before rescuing him. After all, why should I frustrate myself trying to calm him down when all it needs is time, something he can take care of on his own?

But yesterday the few minutes weren't enough. I had to go help calm him down. I decided when I saw his sweaty hair that one of his favorite activities might be in order--a bath. I left him in his room for another couple of minutes while I gathered everything for his bath.

While I'm gone, I notice the crying has stopped. A minute later from his room: "Ah-boo. Ge dah. Ge. Dah. Ah-boo!" When I peek into his room, I'm already prepared for the scene. Patrick hasn't moved an inch from his spot in bed, but Amber is sitting at the foot of his bed. She's not doing anything but apparently it bothers him that she's there.

He is lying down, barely suppressing his giggles, as he adamantly tells Amber to get down off the bed. I was already smiling at this when I noticed the kicker: he had his pointer finger out, admonishing her, waving it around as though this is what would coax her off the bed more than his harsh words.

Funny enough, she didn't quickly respond to my orders to get off the bed either, as it was barely audible between my own giggles.

By the way, when he got out of bed, he'd left a Patrick-shaped sweatstain on the sheets. Poor thing. No wonder he woke up crying.

Seven Months

Dear Nathan,

Seven months sounds so old. You're not my little newborn anymore. While I miss those sweet, precious newborn days, I wouldn't trade the sweet you I've come to know for anything.
I remember thinking when your brother was this age that this was my favorite age for him and I didn't want him to grow up any. I knew I'd always look back to when he was 6-7 months and think fondly of that time. I'm reminded often of that as you go through the same age.

There's just something so cool about getting to watch your personality develop, to watch as you develop an interest in toys (and puppy dogs)--yet you stay so happy most of the time. You embrace the world around you that you are just beginning to become fully aware of, but you haven't learned yet that sometimes you have control over it and sometimes you don't--one of the leading causes of toddler tantrums, I believe.

Even more than most babies your age, you are still so happy. I know I say this every month, but it still astounds me every month--every day even. All it takes is a glance or a goofy face or Patrick being...well, Patrick and you break out in the biggest grin with those adorable dimples. Your laugh and smile never fail to get a smile out of any of us, no matter how early in the morning it is.

You have started babbling lots as well. If you need something, even just attention, you'll start with the babbling before moving onto whining and crying. I have to admit that I'm a lot more likely to rush into your room after your nap when I hear you calling out, "Mamamamamama," than when you scream. And I know I'm just that biased mom saying it, but I think you may sort of connect your words with the responses you get. You say, "Mamama," when you want something from me and "Dadada" when you want Daddy's attention. I'm not sure what you want when you say, "Nanananana" yet, but that's another of your favorites.

Speaking of "nana," Patrick's word for bananas (and Nana), you are doing extremely well with the whole eating thing. You eat everything you're offered and love solid foods. Maybe we were unintentionally starving you and that's why your weight gain was tapering off just a bit because now you can't get enough. You're already eating stage two foods (Gerber's) and love trying new flavors. I haven't found one you won't eat, although you do give great faces for green beans. We are also trying some true solid foods for you, at the doctor's suggestion. He wants you to know how to handle a Cheerio or goldfish the first time Patrick decides to share one with you and I can't intercept it in time. So far we have only tried you on tiny pieces of banana, but you've handled it well. You just gum it until it feels like the normal pureed food.

Lately you've had a hard time deciding who your favorite family member is. You love me because I feed you, attend to most of your needs, and love on you. You love Daddy with that wide-eyed awe and strive to get his attention any time he's around, even when I'm feeding you in bed on Saturday mornings when he's sleeping next to me. But the real challenge is between Patrick and Amber. You idolize Patrick and think everything he does is funny (don't encourage him!). You're desperate for attention from him even more than Daddy, and even when it's not the most gentle attention. But Amber--you get plenty of attention from her and put up with lengthy bathings from her and clearly love it. Today at lunch you were sitting in your little rocking chair while the rest of us ate, and Amber was sitting at your feet. You kept rocking forward and leaning over to try to reach her. I think you would sit all day with at least one hand on the puppy if she would let you.

You're moving through all your milestones so fast. You realize your brother wasn't sitting competently like you are until he was about nine months old? I highly suspect you'll be crawling by then, a feat he didn't accomplish until he was over a year old. You're already quite competent at getting where you want to go by squirming. You're really good at it on your back, but now that you've figured out you can do it on your belly too, the position isn't as awful for you. I think that will quickly prompt you to try really crawling. And that's when the real parenting begins, especially since we have all of Patrick's "dangerous" toys strewn all over the floor at any given time.

But please don't be in a rush to grow up too fast. While I get excited about each new milestone, I know that we have entered a new stage and left the last one behind. I'm never quite ready to leave that last stage behind (except perhaps for the night-wakings stage). But even if you do rush through all these stages in front of you, I'll keep loving you exactly for who you are. You are absolutely precious to me, a fact you insist on reminding me of every single day. You are a joy to be around, something I hope I can remember when you hit the surly teenager stage. Hopefully you will continue to grow up just as happy and easygoing as you are right now. You will if I have anything to say about it...but I'll love you with all my heart no matter how you end up.

Love,

Mommy

A Great Picture

Patrick had a piece of his daddy's birthday cake last week.
But only one.

Boys Will Be Boys

I think my years teaching freshmen prepared me to be the mom of two boys. Do you think boys are born with that sense of humor we associate with little boys? Because Patrick seems to have it.

We've had a couple of bad allergy days around here, and as a result, Patrick has learned the word "booger." He giggles uncontrollably every time he says it, too. I'd like to think it's just a funny-sounding word, but more than likely it's just that boogers are innately funny.

So are farts and fart noises. Last night for dinner we were having French fries, which of course need ketchup. The ketchup made that fart noise as Matt squeezed some out, and Patrick immediately started laughing. It was the funniest thing he'd heard all day.

Then this morning, I watched as he strained and his face turned red. He wasn't pooping, though, because a second later, I heard a loud fart echo in his booster chair. He laughed so hard at that one, immediately saying, "poot," right after it happened and then declaring it "yucky."

I'm afraid I'm not helping matters by laughing along with him. I try not to giggle, but I find situations like that funny even before Patrick reacts to them (thank you freshmen boys). Then when Patrick starts laughing, I can't help myself. Oh, well, he'd learn the humor in bodily functions by the time he got in elementary school anyway, right? He might as well be precocious in this area.

Cl-Cl Is My New Best Friend

I have found a way to get Patrick to sit still! After forcing it down his throat for months, he has finally developed a normal toddler's obsession for children's TV. His favorite is Blue's Clues, which he asks for by name. It sounds like Cl-Cl when he says it, but I know what he means. And he asks for it all day long. I have watched the same two episodes of it (that we have recorded on our DVR) probably five times each. Oddly enough, I don't care. It keeps him happy and calm, and it is teaching him good things. We also like The Backyardigans (still), but he only asks for that after feeding the Blue's Clues obsession.

I'm excited enough about this development that I'm already dreaming about a Blue's Clues theme for his third birthday party, even if it's only a family party. I guess I'll give it a few more months before buying a Blue cake pan and plates and napkins, just in case he finds a new obsession between now and then. But I think I could actually decorate a Blue cake, so I hope this one sticks around until October.

What I Want to Remember

It's the middle of the night, and the house is quiet. I'm desperate for sleep, my eyes trying to close on their own despite my best efforts to prevent that very thing. I'm frustrated and grumpy, jealous at the heavy breathing I'm hearing on the other side of the room that tells me Matt and Amber are getting the sleep I wish I could get.

Instead, I'm rocking back and forth, back and forth in the glider, with Nathan passed out on my chest. It's the third time he's woken up after getting put in bed, and I'm out of ideas how to get him to sleep. He won't let me put him down without screaming as though he's in pain. I've gone through the whole list of possible problems and solutions, and nothing seems to be helping him--just sleeping on me while I gently rock him.

As I attempt to overcome the frustration that I'm not sleeping, I'm transported back several months, to the days when this glider got used regularly. I remember the days when Nathan was a newborn suffering from awful gas pain that we had yet to diagnose. He would cry for no reason at night for sometimes hours at a time. I finally found a specific way to hold and rock him as I walked, and I spent hours pacing and rocking, pacing and rocking, until he was relaxed enough that I could carefully perch on the glider, keeping up the same rhythm of the rocking with my arms sore from holding his weight for that long. I remember how anxious I was that any change on my part would wake him, bringing on the crying fit yet again. In these days, the whole goal was to be able to eventually transfer him to his bed without disturbing his sleep.

How could it be that I miss these days with all the anxiety of getting him to sleep? How could I have not grasped the wonder at the time that I had a miracle sleeping in my arms, that I alone could find the formula to his contentment in the midst of such pain?

So tonight I change my goal; it is no longer to get him to sleep in his own bed but to cherish the precious moments I'm sharing with him. I focus on the increasing weight of his body against my chest as he falls into a deeper sleep, his gentle sigh-breathing against the backdrop of his daddy's heavy near-snores, the soft fuzz of his hair tickling my chin. This is what I will remember from the night, not the frustration or sleep deprivation.

Moments like these are growing few and far between, and I do not want to look back months and years down the line and wish I had taken time to cherish the occasion instead of complaining about it. Instead, this moment will be wrapped up and placed in the far corners of my memory where I can treasure it and pull it out from time to time to reminisce about such sweet moments I have shared with my precious son.

Happy Birthday to the Love of My Life

Twenty-seven years ago today, a wonderful woman gave me the greatest gift she could--she gave birth to a wonderful baby boy who grew up into an even more wonderful man. I didn't know it at the time (how could I, since I was only almost two?), but this day would forever change my life.

For on this day twenty-seven years ago, Matt was born.

I wish I could find more to do for him today in recognition of his birthday to make up for all the many, many things he has done for me over the past three years. Something tells me a cake and a blog post don't quite cut it.

Either way, honey, please accept this as my attempt to make your birthday special. You mean so much to me. I love you with all my heart and hope this twenty-eighth year can be your best yet, and I'm glad I get to be a part of it.

He's a Biter

Yup, you heard right. Mom, you can start laughing right about now; you're getting your revenge. Now that Nathan has those two adorable little teeth, he's interested in what they're there for. Add to that all the other little teeth under his gums that are considering following in the footsteps of their adventurous brothers, and Nathan can't keep from trying out the little choppers.

It hurts on your finger and arm, and I've had the hickeys to prove it.

It's just plain annoying when he goes after the spoon when he's being fed.

But it's downright excruciating when he chooses to try them out while nursing.

Patrick learned a valuable lesson the other day: he is not the only one in the house capable of being punished. He learned quite quickly that the results of Nathan biting is a very light swat on the butt (which he wishes he could administer for me).

Unfortunately, Nathan doesn't quite understand how the consequences relate to the behavior yet. And he just keeps biting. I'm a bit nervous each and every time he goes to eat, and I'm constantly sore from all the times I've already been used as a teething ring.

Mom, I'm so sorry. If I could go back in time to when I was a baby and unbite you, I would. I certainly feel your pain now.

(By the way, the complaint is meant mostly in jest. Yes, it hurts, but I understand he's a baby and doesn't get it yet. I'll just put up with the pain until he does begin to understand he's hurting Mommy.)

At Least His Friends Aren't Imaginary Too

Patrick started playing a new game yesterday, one that I love. It's the "change diaper" or "take a bath" game. It started when he started asking for "change diaper." But he wouldn't lie down for me to change his diaper, so I let it go at the time. A few minutes later, he runs into the room with a diaper off the dresser (that I didn't know he could reach). He brought it to me along with his teddy bear and again told me to "change diaper."

So I put the diaper on the teddy bear, which he loved. We put the diaper on the bear and then took it back off over and over, with him proclaiming the diaper was yucky each time. Then it dawned on him that he needed to clean the yucky, so he appeared with the box of wipes that I also didn't think he could reach. I compromised with him and found him a paper towel to use instead, so we added wiping the bear's bottom to the routine.

A few minutes later, he showed up with an outfit of Nathan's that hadn't been hung up yet (I need more baby hangers...already). He insisted that it be put "back on," so dressing the bear became part of the routine as well. The outfit definitely fits Nathan better, but it works well enough on the bear to satisfy Patrick.
But changing the bear's diaper wasn't enough. He started insisting that we "take a bath." It didn't take me long to figure out that he didn't want a bath but wanted to bathe the bear instead. No way was I taking the bear into the bathroom to give him a pretend bath in the tub with the faucet that Patrick knows how to turn on. I found Nathan's little baby tub that he recently outgrew and gave him that to use to bathe the bear. I also found him a washcloth and his own bottle of "lo-shoo" (empty travel-sized bottle of baby soap) for him to use in his pretend play.
Since then, several of his stuffed animals have gotten baths, and he also pretends to bathe himself in the little tub. He got a real bath yesterday afternoon, and he was quite ready for it to end so that he could go back to pretending to bathe. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

**By the way, I've had to pause in writing this three times already to re-diaper and dress the bear. Oops, make that four as of now. Now why can't he learn to do that for himself?

The Rest

Okay, I know it's a TON of pictures, but this should catch us up, other than the photos still on the camera. Sigh, it never ends.

Right at at the start of this nurturing phase, I got pictures of Patrick hugging Elmo. Now he hugs anything he likes a lot, including pictures in books, but it's sweet to see how it all started.

The runner-up for the picture I used to announce Amber's entrance into our family

Nathan has been sitting on his own for a long time now, but I've been too chicken to leave him long enough to get pictures of it. Until recently, he was still just unstable enough that I was afraid he would topple backwards eventually, and he always got scared when that happened so I wouldn't leave him alone. Now that's not really a problem anymore, so expect lots of sitting pictures. This is the first one.

See how good he's getting? I'm comfortable leaving him sitting there next to the dog even. Amber loves him so much and seems to understand that when he "pets" her that he can't control his hands that well yet. He obviously gets a little rough sometimes, but she loves the attention so much. And he loves her so much too; he can't keep his hands off her if she's nearby. He even puts up with the constant baths from her.

She gets so sad anytime her daddy leaves her. She doesn't sulk all day, but if the boys aren't around to distract her (like during naptime), this is what she looks like.

I know the rattle is pink. It's an Easter rattle. He doesn't care, so why should we?

Should I be jealous? I think she makes out with him more than I do these days! (And the parentals reading this...just don't think about it, ok?)

Nathan is also working on standing up. He clearly doesn't have the balance to stand by himself yet, but one of his favorite things to do is practice when he has help.

But he has yet to learn not to bite the hand that holds him.

Just laugh at this one. I couldn't have caught this moment if I tried, so it's lucky I got it without trying.

Okay, this next one has a long explanation. You know how it looks like Nathan doesn't have much hair? Well, it's finally filling in, but it's so fine and so blonde that you can't really tell. But he still has a few hairs that have been continuously growing since before his birth, and those hairs are getting long. Matt was playing with these longer hairs when we were playing outside and pulled it straight up to show how long it is. This is how long the longest hair is:

Isn't she beautiful? Look at that sweet face!

Such a happy kid

And a happy daddy.

By the way, I had tons of Patrick pictures from this lazy time outside the other day, but I used most of them in his monthly letter on Monday. You can go check those out if you feel bad that Patrick got left out.

Holidays

We didn't do much for St. Patrick's Day other than wear green, but I did make sure to take a picture of Nathan wearing his special bib for the occasion.
Easter was a much bigger event at our house. For the first time, we held an egg hunt for Patrick. He figured out what to do pretty quickly and got excited about every single egg he found.

Naturally he was even more excited about the jelly beans inside them and kept pouring them out in the grass. Eventually we convinced him to just gather the eggs and emptied all the jelly beans we managed to save out of the eggs when we got back inside. Once he tasted them, he figured out how to say "jelly bean" really fast.

Nathan slept through all the festivities, but that's fine since I don't think he would have gotten much out of it anyway.

When he woke up, though, I got a picture of Nathan with "his" Easter basket (one that Patrick has had in years past and no longer needs). The eggs were empty, but he had lots of fun playing anyway.

Then Patrick hopped up and let me get a rare picture of both boys on a special occasion.

Nana and Grandpa sent Nathan a special bib for Easter as well, so I had to take a picture of him wearing that too.

He started hamming it up while I had the camera out, too, so I leave you with Nathan showing off for all of us.

Grandparents

Here is the first installment of the long overdue pictures. Warning: they are not in any particular order, but I'm trying to group them logically as much as possible.

A few weeks ago my dad was able to visit while he was down here on business. We took many more pictures than this, but most were on his camera to take back to my mom.

Not long before that, we got to see Matt's parents when they visited over part of their spring break. Obviously the kids had a great time seeing their grandparents.

Matt's parents brought several neat presents with them. This wagon is one.

They watched the boys one evening so that Matt and I could sneak in a date. Nathan was being fed when we returned. He seemed to enjoy having Papa feed him.

The other present they brought Patrick was his own Patrick-sized rocking chair. The chair was made by Matt's grandparents for him when he was a little boy, so it's a neat heirloom to have for our own boys.

Thirty Months

Dear Patrick,

It's been thirty whole months since you were born, a full two and a half years. On the bright side, now I can call you two and a half instead of two, which prompts many fewer odd looks from people when they compare your age with Nathan's. For some reason, two years is an acceptable interval between kids, but one and a half isn't.
Unfortunately, two and a half also puts you in the throes of the terrible twos. And terrible they are. The last few weeks in particular you have been exerting your strong will, particularly through disobedience. You have frustrated and exasperated both Daddy and me to the very limits of our patience. You seem to know which buttons to push and exactly how hard to push us. To say you have been difficult is an understatement.

Yet despite all you have put us through, I can't help but admire you as well. You have extreme persistence. I'm hoping some day you will put that trait to good use, instead of using it as a way to drive us crazy. You are also very creative. You manage to find ways to turn every punishment into a game. If we spank you, you laugh and start walking around the house spanking yourself. If we take your toys away, you shrug and find something new to play with, even if it's not officially a toy. Every time we put you in time-out, you make a game out of finding a way to play even in time-out, and the more disobedient it is, the better. In fact, we have moved your time-out location several times so that it will be more difficult for you to find a way to play, and you love the challenge and get more creative to turn punishment into playtime.

It's gotten to the point where I enjoy hearing you cry when you get punished because it's the only way I know it's working. And I don't know of any other way to let you know your behavior is unacceptable. Better yet, how about we work on not behaving in that manner to begin with? Then neither of us needs to worry about a punishment for you.

Daddy and I have had endless discussions about how to deal with you. We have brainstormed different positive rewards for good behavior; we have brainstormed better punishments that you may actually respond to. So far you have thwarted all of our best ideas. While I am at my wit's end with you, you need to know that you're not a bad kid--not by any means. You're simply mischievous and you enjoy testing your limits, over and over and over again. I'm holding out hope that this stage is just a stage after all and that a few months from now you'll outgrow it. Maybe at that point you will only keep the best qualities that I admire in you so much now.

And I will have patience beyond that of any other human. Except Daddy. And Nana and Grandpa who had to raise me. I'm sure that's where you got this after all.

The biggest event from the last month is the addition of Amber to our family. Can I just say that you were thrilled about this? You still are, every day. You won't leave your room in the mornings until Amber has come in to say hi to you. You love Amber with the overexuberance only a toddler can have. Fortunately, Amber loves all your loving, clumsy as it may be. She puts up with you when you play a little too rough with her (which always elicits one of those pointless time-outs) and hates when you're in bed--after she's enjoyed a little quiet time of her own first. Amber whines outside your door as soon as she hears you awake in the morning, reminding me that I need to release her beloved playmate as soon as possible. She watches over you like a mother would and plays with you like a sister would. I couldn't be more pleased to get to watch the two of you grow up together.
And I don't know if it's Amber or the visits from your ECI teacher or what, but your language is growing by leaps and bounds these days. Sometimes I wish I could follow you around with your baby book to write down each new word or phrase you say. It's all so fascinating to me to see how thrilled you are to be able to make yourself understood with words. This morning when we were playing outside with Amber, I mentioned Nathan had a dirty diaper and that we'd need to go inside and change it soon. You looked at me and asked, "Isside? Chay di-poo Gaga?" And I knew right away you'd understood exactly what I'd said, using the longest string of comprehensible words I'd ever heard you use. Pretty soon you're going to be asking me to explain electricity to you (ask Nana or Uncle Steve about that reference) and quoting whole songs and movies to me.

For now, though, I celebrate every tiny achievement, whether it's a new word or putting your shorts on by yourself (even if they are Nathan's shorts) or obeying me the first time I ask you to. We had a great morning this morning, and that gives me hope that we can have a great afternoon and maybe a great tomorrow and that not every day will be as trying as some of the ones I've survived lately. I have hope that sometime soon I will get to spend every single day enjoying the happy, sweet, loving boy that you let out to play every once in a while between tantrums. But know that I love even that puddle of screaming Patrick rolling around and kicking on the floor, even if I have to do it while sighing and wearing my angry face.

Love,

Mommy