Gage, Lila & Josie

Remember Me?

2011-11-05T15:58:00.001-04:00

Whew. Where to begin? I'm going to do this in sections, since it's been so long. I'll have a section for each aspect of this blog that I wish existed, if only I had the drive to post regularly. Here's the first section:

Updates

Josephine is a talking machine. She says two- to four-word sentences, like "Lila, look!" and "Me do it," and "Go upstairs, please?" She just turned two, which of course is mind-boggling.

Lila is four and a half, is in preschool, and will go to Kindergarten next year. She is very sweet, and imaginative, but also highly emotional - her moods change fast and we're working on taking things in stride. Lila loves to dance and sing, and to dress up in fancy clothes at any opportunity. She takes long, hot baths and sleeps late whenever possible. She loves to eat spaghetti and she is still, as she always has been, my snuggliest child.

Gage is six and a quarter, and in first grade. He is learning to read and is very excited about it. Reading is starting to make sense to him now - it's easier for him to sound things out, it's not just memorization of key words like it was last year. It's awesome to watch him grow in this way. He loves all things boy, and is beginning to be very funny, like to incorporate timing and tone into his joking.

Funny Stories

Lila says the word 'pattern' like this: 'patterin.' I don't correct her. I will have to, one of these days.

We went camping last weekend (to be fair, I use the term 'camping' loosely - we rented a cabin in a state park. There's electricity but no water and only a fireplace for heat - and it was COLD). At the end of the trip I asked Jo what her favorite part was. She thought for a minute, and then said "Chips." I said "We just had a super fun weekend camping and your favorite part was potato chips?" She nodded thoughtfully and added "Chips yummy." She does have a point.

This past spring Mike and I took Gage to NYC for his first time and when I asked him what his favorite part was (after the long-anticipated bus ride, a dinosaur exhibit at the museum, playing at Central park, etc.) he answered "When I got the Reese's at the candy store." Huh - his favorite part was grabbing a candy bar from a newsstand on our way through Port Authority. This definitely runs in the family...my mom saved a story I wrote in first grade wherein I named 'the chocolate covered peanuts' as the highlight of my trip to Disney World. The apple does not fall far, my friends.

Current Philosophical Crisis

About once a week I am whirled into, and then stuck in, a cyclical frenzy of how to answer this question: Which is stronger, wood or metal? I think that, like once a week, that simple sentence. "Which is stronger, wood or metal?" By the time I'm on the third word... "Which is stronger..." I'm already thinking "No, no, stop now! It will only be frustrating!" But the question keeps coming, in a snarky whisper: "...wood or metal?" Sigh. Then I am committed to a ten-minute-long argument with myself. It goes something like this:

Brain: Picture of tin foil, wooden dowel easily punching through said metal.
Me: "Well, wood."
Brain: Picture of ax chopping at a tree, wood chips flying, cuts deep into tree trunk, ax suffering no ill effects.
Me: "Well, metal."
Brain: Picture of a car crashing into a tree, car mangled and crushed, hood wrinkled and bent. Tree remaining upright after only a shudder.
Me: "Well, wood."

And on it goes. And the answer, of course, is "Well, it depends." Of course it does. Of course it depends. On what kind of metal, what kind of wood, what shape, what density. What force. What angle. But I cannot answer that simple question, and I can answer barely any questions without major disclaimers. "Well, it depends."

Nothing is yes or no, nothing is black or white. Everything is gray and everything is in between and there are very few obvious answers. To anything. Ever. What there is a whole lot of, is uncertainty.

The Ways I Am Messing Up My Kids

What am I doing wrong right now? Josephine told her first knock-knock joke while we were camping. And I accidentally laughed. A lot.

Jo: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Who's there?"
Jo: "Poo poo."
Me: "Poo poo who?"
Jo, pointing: "Poo poo in da diaper."

And she was right! There was, indeed, a major reason for her to call that to my attention. But because it was so well-received she has started telling this joke all the time now:

Jo: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Who's there?"
Jo: "Poo poo."
Me: "Poo poo who?"
Jo" "Poo poo you."

Of course, I couldn't let that go on. Despite the comical nature of a just-turned-two-year-old making potty jokes I can't let my kid call me poop. But she still tries, and sometimes she tells other jokes, so I can't just say no to knock-knock jokes.

Jo: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Who's there?"
Jo: "Poo poo."
Me: "I don't like poo poo jokes."
Jo: Grinning
Me: "Tell me a different joke."
Jo, whispering: "Poo poo you."
Lila, defensively: "Don't listen to her, Mommy! Just ignore her!"

Recipe

Hmm...what do you want a recipe for? Here are some of our current favorites:

Salty Oat Cookies

Caramel Corn

Vanilla Bean Yogurt

Teriyaki Chicken

Pad Thai

Pictures

Must upload. Sigh...and I was doing so well.

I Need a Doctor

2011-04-25T21:32:00.003-04:00

I know this blog is supposed to be about my kids, but today I want to talk about me. ME! Me, me, me! MEEE!!!

My long-time Opthamologist retired recently and I was due for a check-up. So last week I looked for a new one online, and found one in a building I'm fairly familiar with - and it's close to my house. Win! My old Opthamologist was kind of far (and uber-trafficky) away, so this was ideal. Especially since they always give you those eye drops to dilate your pupils, and then driving home is a real...challenge.

So anyway, I made an appointment with the new eye doctor, and arranged a sitter, and even arrived ten minutes early so I could fill out whatever paperwork they needed before the appointment. I love when I'm all responsible and grown-up. It's very satisfying.

When I walked into the ten-story building the first thing I saw was a polite but no-nonsense note taped to an office door: "We don't have a building directory. Please don't ask. Look near the elevator." Right-O. That's fine. Why would I need to ask, when there's a comprehensive building directory right outside the elevator? I think I may have even snorted in contempt at this point. Snorting in contempt is easy to do when you're ten minutes early.

I get to the elevator, and, strangely, the directory is in no kind of order that makes sense to me. Like, it's not alphabetical, which would have been nice. It's ordered by floor, then by suite - you have to look at every listing until you find the one you need. So I did just that - I looked at every listing. No Dr. Weber. I looked again, scanning for Optometrists, Opthamologists. Nothing.

Huh.

I start to feel self-conscious, because I've been staring at this directory for at least three minutes already. Scanning. Scanning. Now I have only seven extra minutes to complete my paperwork. Okay, this will still work. I must have missed it. I scan again. And again. Now I look like a total fool - I've been standing here for literally five full minutes, staring blankly at the wall. I could ask one of the offices, but no! 'Please dont ask!'

I'm temporarily rescued by two women who approach the elevator, push the button to go up. Great, I figure, it's time to explore the building. Maybe the doctor's not listed on the directory (maybe I'm NOT insane) and I'll find him by stopping at a couple of floors and looking around. Great. Problem solved.

One of the ladies pushes the button for Floor Three. Okay, I think, that's as good a place to start as any. Maybe Dr. Weber is on the third floor. The ladies walk off, and I am left to stare blankly at the third floor doors and hallways, none of which involve Optometry, at least not in the traditional sense.

I get back in the elevator and look at the panel of buttons. This is the point where, I think, I may have made an error in judgment. I wonder at the buttons for a moment before slowly reaching a finger out and pushing 'Six.' That, my friends, was the beginning of the end.

My brain was telling me, "No luck on three. How about six?"

So I tried that.

I got off on the sixth floor and looked around - no Dr. Weber. When I got back into the elevator (with three minutes left to do my paperwork) I realized that I can't go randomly up or down, I need a SYSTEM. I need a PROCESS. I went to three, I went to six, but I didn't go to four or five. So four or five it was. I went to four. I went to five. Then seven. Then I realized I missed Floor Two, so I went there.

What was I thinking, you ask? I kind of remember my brain telling me that every floor is as good of a chance as any, and if I just remember which ones I've tried I'll be golden. But it involved, certainly, a lot of ups and downs.

Floor two, as it turns out, has an Optometry Office! Yays! Wow! It's ah-maze-ing! And I'm right on time - it's exactly 9:00. And I don't even think too much about how Floor Two follows Floor One in, you know, the literal sense. So I had a little adventure. Big deal! We're here now, and that's all that matters.

I approach the desk, smile at the administrative assistant. Can she help me?

She sure can!

"I have an appointment with Dr. Weber."

"Oh, honey," she says, looking confused, "He hasn't been in this building for years!"

True story.

And, I know, the KIDS. The kids are why you're here.

Gage, who is five (and three quarters!) is very eager for our summer to start. We have a camping trip planned in early June (actually, in the spirit of honesty, we'll be staying in a cabin. But with no running water! That's roughing it enough for me). Then the beach later in June. A four-day "Camp" planned with friends in the Poconos, where he can spend all the time he wants getting muddy, tired, and strong.

Lila is almost four and she's excited for her birthday. She has chosen the theme "Fairies Riding on Unicorns" for her party, despite our attempts at steering her toward, you know, one or the other. So, Fairies Riding on Unicorns it will be. And I know I've said it before, but WHERE did this girly-girl come from!?

Josephine is 17 months now and talking like a champ. She will repeat anything you coax her to attempt, and she is brave as all get-out. I have to (literally) pull her off the dining room table multiple times a day, she's such a monkey. She looked in the mirror last week and said "Me." Ever since she has been referring to herself that way, and it blows my mind. I don't remember the other two having that self-awareness at this age. Yesterday she said "Me. Ate." I looked at her, confused, and repeated "Ate?" She kind of sighed, then opened her mouth wide and pointed inside. "Oh, you're hungry!" Bingo.

The highlight of our month, sadly, has been a major Spring Cleaning, but it feels good to be starting fresh.

Pics to follow - must upload.

Some Random

2011-02-06T22:00:00.003-05:00

- Gage smacked his mouth and chin on the ice today and has a heck of a scrape. I feel awful every time I look at him. The poor kid is taking it like a champ, though, and not complaining at all. (When did he get so big?)

- Josephine fed herself from a spoon today, for the first time (the first time that she did it well, anyway). What was she eating? Chocolate ice cream. Apparently that's the trick, for getting a tiny little kid to use a spoon.

- Lila sat in the bathtub today, looked at me guiltily and said, very slowly and succinctly, "I did NOT just pee in the tub." Great! Well, then, let's carry on with your bath. Because there's NO PEE in the tub. Right.

- I had a dream last night that I went to a fancy restaurant and ordered "Deconstucted Mac and Cheese." I got a plate full of cooked, plain noodles, little cubes of cheddar cheese, and a shot glass full of milk. What does it MEEEEAN?

- Mike and I had a fight about who should park the car in the snow (we both wanted to) and now, hours later, he's all up in my grill whenever I breathe big (I'm sick! I have asthma! When I'm sick I need to breathe big!) he thinks I'm still mad. Dude. For the record, a fight over parallel-parking in the snow is only worth, like, ten minutes of rage. I promise. If two hours have passed, my sighing is only because of the cold.

- Tomorrow is Monday already. Whaaaaat!?

Whether to Laugh or Cry

2011-01-23T23:09:00.005-05:00

When Mike works a lot the mood in my house changes quite a bit. Normally we're pretty happy-go-lucky, and we all get along pretty well. Mike and I are careful to give each other a bit of private time when we're both home, like to take a twenty-minute nap in the middle of the day, or to disappear to check our favorites online. The kids are wonderful, don't get me wrong. But there are three of them. The oldest is five. And none of them requires very much sleep.

Mike is often on call for work...he works in HVAC and in the middle of a bad PA winter, emergency heater repairs are in high demand. Sometimes he is on call and doesn't get called at all. Other times, like this weekend, he is working more hours than a normal - or an overtime - weekday. The thing is, after a few days it gets really hard to stay sane and be with the kids full-time.

It's like camping.

You know.

Intense. (I'll be here all week)

The kids (and I) get kind of cabin-fevery after a day inside and taking them out is challenging with all their winter gear. We have to go out, though, so we don't go insane, and often when we do they're (and I'm) already a little wild around the eyes from the aloneness of having just one adult in the house. I admire single parents, for sure. I have no idea how I would do it all on my own.

This past Saturday I packed up the kids and we went to my parents’ house for dinner. In the car on the way there the older two started arguing and I shushed them, told them to be quiet until we got to Grandma and Pop-Pop’s. The car was calm for nearly a minute before the baby (Jo is 14 months now) grumbled, “Mommy” in this gravelly kind of caveman voice. It sounded like “Mah-MEH.” Two seconds later she said it again. “Mah-MEH.” It was only after the fourth or fifth time that a pattern became evident. She wasn’t babbling so much as she was chanting.

“Mah-MEH (pause) (pause) Mah-MEH (pause) (pause) Mah-MEH….”

Gage caught onto the rhythm and joined her.

“Mah-MEH” Two kids, in perfect rhythm.

Lila was not to be left behind.

“Mah-MEH (pause) (pause) Mah-MEH.”

Three kids, showing more rhythm together than any one of them has shown individually in their short little lives.

“Mah-MEH (pause) (pause) Mah-MEH (pause) (pause) Mah-MEH….”

Me? My eye was twitching. My chest was starting to get a little tight.

“Mah-MEH (pause) (pause) Mah-MEH (pause) (pause) Mah-MEH….”

“WE’RE HERE!” My voice was shrill with obvious relief. “We’re here! We’re at Grandma’s! GET OUT OF THE CAR!”

I thought that was a close enough risk to my sanity for the night – I thought I was in the clear. Certainly they’d gotten their crazies out. That’s why I said “Sure” when my mom asked if I wanted to go to Target after dinner. (Where, I might add, I was pushing the cart and reciting my ongoing monologue of ‘Jo, sit in the seat. Gage, don’t walk in front of the cart – you’re going to get bumped. Lila, I said hold onto the cart. Jo, SIT!’ when an older gentleman thoughtfully – not rudely, but interestedly – observed: ‘It’s like herding cats.’)

They did it to me again on the way there, except this time about Cornland.

What, you’ve never heard of Cornland? Before Saturday, neither had I.

We were driving past a big park surrounded by fields, and, admittedly, in the fall these fields grow row after row of corn. But it’s the dead of winter and there’s not a cob to be had.

Lila randomly yells from the backseat: “Gage! We’re in Cornland!”

Gage, the self-imagined ever-cooler big brother, glances disinterestedly out the window before quietly answering: “I can’t hear you, Lila.”

Lila: “Gage! Gage, I said, we’re in Cornland!”

Gage: “What?”

Lila: “Gage!”

Gage: “Yeah?”

Lila: “We’re in Cornland!”

Gage: “What?”

Lila: “Gage! We’re in CORNland.”

Gage: “What?”

Me: “Lila! Lila, he can hear you!” Next to me my mom is laughing.

Lila: “No, he says he can’t! He says he can’t hear me! Gage! We’re in CORNLAND!”

Gage: “What?”

Lila: “WE’RE. IN. CORNLAND!”

Me: “Lila, I promise he can hear you. I can hear you VERY well and he’s even closer.”

Gage: “I can’t hear Lila.”

Lila: “CORN! LAND!”

Me: “WE’RE HERE! We’re at Target! GET OUT OF THE CAR!”

However much I need a vacation, I love these kids. Man, do I love these kids. And man, do they love their Mah-MEH.

Some Random

2010-11-12T15:27:00.002-05:00

* Our computer offed itself. I don't know how else to say it, except that it just gave up working...seemingly out of sheer exhaustion. Hence, no recent photos to post. Hence, not much time spent online. Hence, a new computer almost ready to go.

* My sister Ali suggested that I add a virtual Poetry Corner to my blog and has graciously offered the first submission. That will be up shortly.

* Gage is still finding his way in Kindergarten - it's been a more dramatic change for both of us than either of us expected. But he's hanging in there, and beginning to enjoy it more, and his handwriting is totally blossoming. He learns a new sight word every week, and is solid on at least ten of them so far. (I, am, we, can, go, like, see, the, play, and)

* Lila is completely in love with preschool and always looks forward to her time there. She's an eager and happy student.

* Josie is almost a year old (!!!) and she and I are, sigh, finished nursing. I had hoped to go longer but it just wasn't going to happen...for either of us. I have a lot of feelings on the subject that maybe I can go into in another, not-random post.

* Mike is busy, busy, busy working and doing side jobs and putting a fence in our backyard.

* I just watched the movie Temple Grandin and loved it, would definitely recommend.

* Tonight I am making twelve pounds of meatballs.

We've Been Busy....

2010-09-10T13:58:00.006-04:00

What have we been doing lately? (Not blogging, obviously)

We've been busy....

Picking tomatoes,

Eating tomatoes (Lila assembled these...see how proud she is?),

Swinging,

And having some wonderful surprise company.

We've been sleeping,

Experimenting with new hairstyles,

Eating ice cream sundaes,

And tie-dying. (That's a crib sheet.)

We've been planting some Kid seeds

Watering them

And watching them grow.

Then before we knew it

We were sending them off

To school.

Something you didn't know about Mike

2010-08-05T11:53:00.003-04:00

We were on vacation (Rehoboth Beach, DE) in June. One morning Mike walked to the coffee shop to pick up our morning fix (two larges, black). He came back with just one cup, and when I asked him why he explained....

The coffee shop we favor has a fairly rickety screen door. It also has lots of newspaper-reading patrons propped on benches on the roomy sidewalk near the entrance.

Mike bought the coffee and stacked one cup on top of the other to navigate said rickety screen door. He made it outside, but when he let go of the door the top coffee teetered and fell, smashing in a hot liquidy burst on the sidewalk. Mike picked up the empty cup and the lid, tossed them in the trash, and turned to see many faces looking at him sympathetically. Mike, suddenly embarrassed, held up the one remaining cup.

"That's why I always buy a spare."

They "Help" Me

2010-07-12T12:33:00.003-04:00

Last week Gage volunteered to make breakfast for me. Once assured that he knows the rules for no knives, no stove, etc. I said Sure. Ten minutes later he presented me with a plate, on which sat a perfectly reasonable-looking sandwich.

"Try it!" he urged. "It's samami." (Samami = Salami) "You like samami!"

Indeed I do. I took a quick peek at the sandwich and it seemed okay. Two slices of whole-wheat bread. Spicy mustard. Samami. And thick slices of cheddar cheese. Okay, I don't usually put cheese on salami sandwiches, but how bad could it be? I take a bite. I chew...Gage watches, with a hopeful smile. I smile back, and then my mouth starts to burn. I chew some more and try to keep smiling. My mouth is on fire...what did he put in here? Horseradish? I swallow and take a swig of coffee.

"Delicious!" I declare. I open the sandwich to look closer and that cheddar cheese? Is jalapeno cheddar. VERY, VERY STRONG jalapeno cheddar. I eat it on crackers, but I put a piece of cheese the size of a pea on each cracker, it's that strong.

"I know you like that cheese," he said, seeing me notice it.

"You're right. I do. In fact, I think I'll eat it a little later so I can really enjoy it. Thanks for the sandwich!"

"Okay, Mommy!" He runs off to play. Thank goodness he's still distractable.

On Saturday Gage and I had a lazy afternoon while Mike was working and the girls took naps. We sat around and read books, played games. I did laundry and dishes.

"I've noticed you've been doing a lot of chores lately," Gage said to me at one point.

"You're right, I have," I said. I pulled him to me for a hug. "Thanks for noticing."

"When I do chores for Grandma and PopPop they give me a reward." (It's true. They give him a dollar of "Pay.") "I was thinking that we should try that here, to see how it feels for us."

"Sure."

"I'm going to make a surprise for you. Don't come in the kitchen!"

(Oh no! No more jalapeno cheddar!)

Several minutes later Gage returns with with a glass mostly full of a chunky-looking tan concoction. He pokes a straw in and hands it to me.

"It's a smoothie!" He said cheerfully. "Good job on your chores, Mommy."

"Wow, thank you!" (OMG, am I going to have to drink this!? But he's SO SWEET.)

"It's milk, peanut butter and sugar. I used your whisk." I stir my 'smoothie' with the straw and discover that it is actually overwhelmingly peanut butter...probably 2/3 peanut butter and 1/3 milk.

"Okay," I take a little sip. Not much happens...apparently peanut butter can't easily BE whisked into milk...but finally a few globs of peanut butter slither up the straw and swoosh past the too-sweet milk. "Mmm," I say. "It's good!"

After that, I DID deserve a reward.

This morning Gage and Lila woke up before I did and "washed the windows" with a bottle of Febreze. (1) The windows need to be re-washed. Soon. (2) My house smells great!

The Third Child

2010-06-28T15:45:00.004-04:00

Yesterday Josie was in her high chair munching on a handful of cereal and I was folding laundry five feet away. The overhead lights turned on, then off. I looked at the switch, and there's Josie...standing up in her highchair, turned around to face the wall. She has her hands on the back of the chair to balance herself and she's bumping the lightswitch on and off with her head.

With her head.

Needless to say I tightened the heck out of those highchair straps and our darling little Houdini will be under a higher level of surveillance from here on out.

Going from one child to two was easy...as was going from two to three. I was surprised at the switch from Gage to Gage and Lila - it was so much smoother than I'd feared. Even easier was adding Baby Jos. She has had a comfortable, defined place in our family from the day she was born. But strangely, it's more difficult with each baby to let them cry it out at bedtime.

I know, logically, that Josephine can't talk yet. But that doesn't stop her from babbling 'Ah-dah' whenever she sees Mike. It made me grin big yesterday when he kept redirecting her attention...she was getting distracted when he was feeding her peaches and yogurt...and she gave him a little baby glare and scolded, "Ah-dah'!" in this annoyed way. Like..."Leave me be, Daddy!" Mike and I both felt her wrath...or at least enjoyed the way it seemed.

We took Lila to her first movie over the weekend - Toy Story 3! (Gage's third...his first was Up, last summer.) She enjoyed the movie, for sure, but we should have prepared her better for the whole "You must stay in your seat the entire time" part of it. She kept squirming around, flopping left and right, forward and back, and saying, "Is it over now?" I tried to get her to sit in my lap but she would have none of that. She did, however, enjoy the box of candy and bag of popcorn we bought. Who wouldn't!?

And Gage, in true Gage style, liked every scene of the movie (including the fiery-inferno-imminent-death scene) except the one where the toys were rude to each other.

I know what you mean, pal. I don't like rude, either.

Yay! It's Summer!

2010-06-23T11:26:00.002-04:00

Last night we settled down to play a game with Gage - a great, creative game called "Now What?" It's lots of fun and we play it often. There are cards with short paragraphs describing a scene, and then there are picture cards that you can choose how to complete the scene. I'm not explaining this well, but it's an awesome game and Gage really likes it and it's fun for me and Mike to play, too, unlike many (repetitive and simple) kids' games.

So I'm skimming through some of the 'story' cards, trying to find one that's easy to follow, since Gage is four. Many of the stories are geared toward slightly older kids. Mike is watching me and says, "What are you looking for?"
Me: "Some of these cards are a bit...." I search for the right word.
Mike, leaning forward conspiratorially: "Advanced?"
Gage, leaning forward conspiratorially: "Overwhelming?"

Well. So much for trying to sneak that one by him.

Lila was watching me prepare a whole chicken for the grill last night. I massaged a dry rub onto the skin, tied back the wings, etc., and she watched me all the time. Then she pointed and said, "Are those legs?"
Me: "Yep."
Lila: "Was that alive once?"
Me: "Yes, it was."
Lila: "But not in our country."
Me (hiding a smile): "Even in our country."
Lila: "But it's deaded in the store."
Me: "It's no longer alive before it even gets to the store."
Lila (quiet)
Me: "How does that make you feel?"
Lila (looking uneasy): "Funny."

I wonder if we'll have a little vegetarian in a couple of years...? I couldn't very well lie to her. Mike helped me out by adding that the chicken we eat is raised responsibly and happily, which is true, and I think that must help a little. It helps me, anyway.

Lila and Josie both had well-child visits to the doctor recently, and the doctor recommended that Lila have an echocardiogram done to see what's causing a heart murmur, which has been persistent since she was 12 months old. We went for the echo two days ago and she was a real champ, but we won't know the results for another several days.

Josephine is pulling herself up into a standing position now. She just turned seven months, and has two bottom teeth and her hair is beginning to lighten in the sun. She is a charming and funny baby. I swear she made her first joke. Gage often comes close to talk to her and stroke her hair while she nurses. A few days ago he was doing this, and she turned her head and latched onto his arm. He squealed and she started laughing. I swear she did it on purpose. She is also very 'talkative' lately, stringing sounds together often and loudly. I love to listen to her "Da-da-da-das" and "Mum-mum-mums."

Gage and Lila are both on a seafood kick lately - wanting steamed clams and shrimp for dinner. We indulge them occassionally, since Mike and I love seafood, and we're tickled that we can enjoy these foods with our kids now.

Gage used to be put off by spicy foods, but now is beginning to enjoy and crave them, as long as he has a glass of milk nearby. Lila has always liked spicy food, that funny girl. She got mad at me recently for finishing the buffalo chicken dip without letting her grab a final scoop.

Josie has just started yogurt and she loves it. I also love the yogurt stage of babyhood, because it is so nourishing and flexible. She loves graham crackers, too, and bananas.

Mike is back at work, and while we're very happy about that there is also some adjusting to do. I love having time with the kids in the afternoons, but without a fence enclosing our backyard I can't leave them alone for a second. I think that's what I miss the most about Mike being home - not having to herd the kids inside every three minutes to grab something else that we need (the phone, crackers, water, sunscreen, a towel, etc.). I mean, that's the most practical thing I miss. Mostly I just miss having all of us together for much of the day. That was really nice.

I dropped off the last of Gage's Kindergarten registration paperwork at his new school, so he's all set to begin at the end of the summer. My boy. My big, big guy.

Rice. It's so, so good.

2010-06-06T23:41:00.004-04:00

I set out on a modest quest this past fall...to perfect my rice. I know it sounds small, but all the rice I had ever made before, like, December of 2009 was okay. And just that- okay. Not great. And rice is something you should really just understand, you know? Something that should come easily. I try to challenge myself a couple of times a year to really study, like, REALLY study one specific food and learn how to make it really well. 2008 was the Year of The Yeast Dough. I made so much bread, so many sticky buns, so many delicious cakes that 2009, by default, also happened to become The Year of Losing Ten Pounds. But I learned a lot.

So I figured that I could do something relatively simple for late 2009, since Jos had just been born and I needed at least a little of my wits about me.

Anyway, I'm not saying that I make the best rice. I'm not saying that I learned all there is to learn about rice. But I did learn one thing, at least, and that is that the instructions on the package DO NOT make the quality of rice that a few little adjustments will allow....

So make this rice, and tell me if you like it. This is our go-to rice now, the side dish that accompanies at least one meal per week. After a couple of times it's old hat...this recipe is from memory (it is so simple!).

Oh, one more thing. We try to eat pretty healthfully but I gave up on brown rice a few years ago because I missed the deliciousness of starchy, wonderful white rice. I missed it so much! We'll give brown rice another go someday, I'm sure, but for now we use plain old white, long grain rice.

Rice

Ingredients:
One cup dry long grain white rice
1.5 tsp butter (2 tsp if you've had a bad day)
.5 tsp kosher salt
1.5 cups boiling water (boil the water then measure...it doesn't have to be literally boiling hot when you add it, but it should definitely be hot)

Directions:
Rinse the heck out of the rice. What I do is soak the rice in a 2-cup measure in cool water for several minutes, stirring occasionally. I pour off the starchy water and refill with fresh several times. After ten minutes or so, when the water is more or less clear (the starches have been rinsed away) I pour the rice into a metal strainer and give it one last rinse...then let it rest on a clean cotton towel (to sap away some of the moisture - important for later).

Put a 2 quart pot on the stove, and turn the heat to medium. Put your butter in there.

When the butter is melted and sizzling a little (but not yet brown!) add the salt and drained rice. This is where your draining of the rice is important - you don't want a bunch of water hitting that melted butter.

Leaving the heat on medium, stir the rice with a wooden spoon. If it creeps up the sides of the pot, push it back down. Keep stirring for three minutes. What you're doing here is toasting the rice a bit. It brings out a kind of nutty flavor.

Add your hot water, jack the heat up to high, and stir until your rice is boiling. This will happen quickly, probably within twenty seconds. As soon as you have a good boil, give one last stir, cover the pot with a tight fitting lid and turn the heat down to the lowest setting on your burner. For me, it's just above low, like just between low and one, but more toward low.

Set your timer for seventeen minutes and leave it the heck alone.

When the timer rings you have two options - serve right away or move off the hot burner, keep covered, and wait until the rest of your dinner is ready. It stays hot and doesn't lose much quality if it waits there in the kitchen while you're getting other stuff together. When you're ready to serve, scoop it out very gently into a serving bowl using a fork, scrape at it like you would an Italian Ice, going one layer at a time.

So simple, yet so delicious.

Nursing Josie

2010-05-05T09:31:00.003-04:00

Josie is a very active baby. She has never wanted much to do with snuggling. When you hold her she constantly tries to sit up or arch away from you so she can watch everything happening around her. On the floor she can get wherever she wants to go...either by rolling, creeping or (new!) doing the inch-worm. She is always on the go, and rarely has the patience to rest with us.

All of that changes when it's time to nurse. Especially when I nurse her at bedtime, in her room, in a rocking chair, with the lights dim and the air still.

When Josie nurses it's like her body was poured into my lap; she's like an armful of sleeping kittens. She lets her eyes droop closed and she pats my skin with her far hand, knowing that I'm hers and she's mine. She rests luxuriously, and her head lolls on her neck a bit when she's full. She lets out a little hiccup and blinks several times, grins sleepily at me.

There's no better part of my day.

I love that I can provide for her, that my body is still sustaining her. Breastfeeding is a nice transition from pregnancy to full-fledged baby.

It's Time to Move the Shoes

2010-04-29T11:22:00.004-04:00

We have a toy kitchen for the kids (my dad built it for Gage's second Christmas). Among the toy foods are these grapes, over there on the right. A few days ago Lila found a pair of kiddie scissors, cut the string that keeps the grapes together, and watched as they all spilled off like a handful of marbles. "Oh no, Lila!" I was surprised. (But I shouldn't have been. Lila is very impulsive and naively destructive with toys and books. Also, she's 2.) "So-wwwwwy!" she answered immediately. I sighed and gathered up the grapes, tried to figure out a way to restring them. "Lila. We do not use scissors with toys. Ever. The only thing we use scissors on is paper, and that's only when Mommy and Daddy say it's okay."
"Sowwy! Sowwy! Sowwy!"
"I don't want this to happen again."
"Okay. I won't."

Later that evening I was telling Mike about this, and I wanted to reinforce the lesson with Li, so I said, "Lila, what's the rule about scissors?"
"Throw your trash away!" she eagerly replied. I laughed because she had barely let me finish my question before pouncing on an answer.
"That's right, when we open a package with scissors we throw the trash away. But what about food--" This time I didn't even get to finish my sentence.
"When you peel a banana you throw it in the trash!" she had a little bit of a wild look in her eyes, like she was on a game show and knew that she had these questions. She could do this. "Like this!" she held up her hands and began miming peeling a banana. Then, with a little "Shoop!" sound she mimed throwing the peel away.
"Good, sweetie," I'm still laughing, because we're not at all talking about what I meant to be talking about. "But how about toy food and--"
"You don't eat it! You don't put it in your mouth!"

I guess there's a lot to know, even when you're two.

The game we've been playing lately: "Cindewella and the Fairy Goff-Muffer."

Lila is really starting to understand joking, which is way fun.

Every evening before bed we give the kids an option of having a mug (warmed milk with Carnation Instant Breakfast stirred in) or hot chocolate (warmed milk with Ovaltine stirred in). We give Gage about eight ounces, because he's skinny and could use some extra calories, and we give Lila about four ounces, because she never really drinks all of it but we don't want to exclude her from the routine.

Last night Mike calls from the kitchen: "Mug or hot chocolate?"
Gage: "Hot chocolate!"
Lila: "Mug!"
Me (in a high-pitched voice): "This is Lila. I want hot chocolate."
Mike: "Okay, two hot chocolates, coming up."
Lila (grinning): "No, I want a mug!"
Me (squeakily): "This is Lila. No matter what I say, I want hot chocolate."
Mike: "Hot chocolate. You've got it."
Lila (laughing): "No! A mug! A mug!"
Me (squeakily): "This is Lila. I'd like a coffee, please."
Mike: "Okay, a coffee and a hot chocolate."
Lila (cracking up): "No! Not coffee!"

She was laughing so hard, it was awesome.

I hope this newfound understanding of jokes helps her with her knock-knocks. Here's a typical Lila joke:

Lila: "Knock Knock."
Me: "Who's there?"
Lila: "Tree."
Me: "Tree who?"
Lila: "Why did you build a nest in me? Because you're a bird? And you build a nest?"
Me: "Ha, ha. That's a good one."

I really hope her joke-telling improves. I mean, I know she's young and all, but jokes about trees? And birds? Kind of last year. Somebody's got to tell her she needs some new material.

Mike and I were having an argument several days ago, which, thankfully, is not very common. But it was one of those times when we each interpreted a situation very differently, and we just kept trying to explain why our interpretation was the right one, and, sorry, but your interpretation is the not right one. We just kept going around in circles, and while we weren't yelling at each other or anything we weren't getting along either. And we were just saying the same things, for like five full minutes.

Gage finally came over to me and whispered something in my ear. I snorted with laughter and my anger immediately fell away. I looked at Mike, who looked even more defensive, as if I was betraying him by interrupting our argument to laugh.

"Gage has a good idea," I said to Mike. "He said, 'I think you should just stop talking about it.'"

Mike smiled, relieved, and we did just that.

I'm not above taking advice from a four-year-old.

Not when it's good advice.

Gage and I go tomorrow morning to register him for Kindergarten. I feel like I'm in a bit of a different dimension. (My baby!)

Josie is 'creeping' or 'army-crawling' now. What's that you say? She's only five months old? I know, it's crazy! She actually started doing this at the very end of four months. She plants her elbows down and drags her body behind her, and she gets wherever she wants to go. It's amazing, really. She's very determined. She gets into trouble, though, because she can move forward fairly easily but backward not at all. So she scoots until her head bumps into something, and then she's stuck. We spend a lot of time rescuing Josie.

I saw her do it for the first time about two weeks ago. I set her on a blanket on the floor, on her belly. I noted that one of Lila's shoes was nearby, but a good four feet away, so I didn't bother moving it. Less than a minute later I look at Jos and she's chewing on Lila's shoe! (I know, gross, right!?)

So you know what this means.

It's time to move the shoes.

Mike should be back at work in another month or so. Cross your fingers for us...or knock wood, or whatever it is you do for luck. Please. Thanks!

Unintentional Spring Cleaning

2010-04-16T11:05:00.005-04:00

Well, it's been a rather miserable week. We're all sick (except the baby! Knock wood!) and it's taken a lot out of us. Poor Lila got it first (Monday), then it waterfalled day after day to Gage (Tuesday), me (Wednesday) and Mike (Thursday). Lila is better today (Friday), so I'm hoping we all waterfall back to health now.

Yesterday I took a sick day from work. In the afternoon when Lila and Josie were napping Gage settled on the couch to watch a movie (with some moaning and groaning just in case we forgot how sick he was) and Mike and I started cleaning the heck out of the house.

I'm something of a...saver. I don't like to get rid of things. Practically everything has sentimental value to me, and it's a problem. But...I don't like when the house looks cluttered, and the only solution to that is to get rid of extraneous stuff. A couple of times a year I turn heartless and throw away everything that's been collecting, all the stuff we don't need. I wish I could get into the habit of throwing it away daily, but it's hard. I'm working on it.

Like...I buy these HUGE packs of construction paper at Sam's Club. It's 700+ sheets of paper, all different colors. I buy this once every three months.

Because my kids go through 700+ sheets of construction paper.

Every three months.

Suffice it to say we have a lot of artwork in the house. The problem is, all of it is beautiful. All of it.

Anyway, back to yesterday afternon. We lifted furniture to sweep out the collected dust (and marbles, and socks, and books, and raisins) from the hardwood floors. We sneezed. We packed up winter clothes to put in the attic. We blew our noses. I filled two garbage bags to the brim with toys from Gage & Lila's room - toys to be rotated every couple of months. (A good solution to wanting less stuff in their room, but not wanting to throw / give away all of their toys. Yet.) We sneezed some more, and took cough medicine.

We vacuumed everything repeatedly (by the way, have I told you lately how much I love Dyson's long, long cord?) and then had to stop so Mike could fish a plastic quarter out of the vacuum hose. Of course.

I don't know what was driving my mad cleaning spree, but I was glad it was getting done. The more we worked the more energy we had to finish - I swear it was like a frenzy.

In the middle of my frantic, frazzled orders to Mike as we cleaned ("Throw it! Throw everything! Have no heart!") Mike looked at me and said, "Are we...Spring Cleaning?"

Huh.

Yes, I guess that's what this is called.

In the evening, after everyone had baths and all the little ones were tucked into bed Mike and I put on a movie and got comfortable on the couch. Time to relax! Finally!

I was sleeping like a baby less than five minutes later.

Like this baby:

Instincts

2010-03-26T11:39:00.003-04:00

When I had Gage a part of me longed to be more primitive, and I allowed it. I gave into my instincts and, actually, welcomed them. So much changes when you have a baby - I think my potential to function at a more basic level changed, too. Where my kids are concerned...I can't afford to think everything over. I need to act quickly, from the gut, and have a constant sixth sense of where they are and whether or not they're well.

Because it works, because the more old-fashioned or animalistic I am with them the closer I feel to them, I allow it to keep going. I completely give in to the urge to sniff them, to smell their sweaty or clean or sun-warmed hair. All three of them are completely used to me sticking my nose deep in the crook of their necks and breathing deeply, just breathing in their smells.

Since Gage was a baby I'd smell him and half-joke: "Yep, that's my baby," as if the visual or aural were not enough - he had to pass the sniff-test, too. Now Gage jokes with Josie - he smells her all over her head and says, "Yep, that's my girl."

I rub my face on their faces, on their heads. I feel very much like a lioness, and the kids respond in cub-like kind. They smile gently and lean into me, half-close their eyes and allow me to rub heads with them. We're like a pack of wild cats, all madly in love with one another.

I breathe in the air from Josie's open mouth, not knowing quite why but choosing not to think too hard about it. It feels right, on that primitive level, so I do it. Her breath smells healthy and milky, and she smells, in a word, familiar.

The first time I left Josie with our 18-year-old babysitter she smelled 'off' for the next several hours. It was the strangest thing. Every time I caught a whiff of her I smelled the babysitter's perfume. It didn't make me jealous or angry, but it made me feel as though something was just a little strange. And it kept happening - I kept smelling that unfamiliar smell and being just a little curious about it, a little alarmed. She didn't smell like my baby, and that really jolted me.

We also snuggle together, the kids and I, a mess of arms and legs and tickly-haired heads, and coo at each other. We make happy little wimpering sounds, just delighted to be so cozy and close. Weird, maybe, but I've never felt better than this.

Gage and Lila made up a fantastic game recently: "Baby Polar Bear." We take turns being the baby, the Mama, the brother/sister polar bear, and the two 'older', well, baby the baby polar bear. If Gage is the baby, Lila and I curl around him in a snuggling pile and she pets his head, I rub his back. We murmur to each other and pretend to feed him fish. We tuck his blanket around him to keep him warm.

I say, over and over, "I will take care of you. I will feed you when you're hungry and make sure you don't get cold. I will protect you."

He closes his eyes with a smile on his face, allowing himself to be entirely cared for (easier when he's a polar bear), and it strengthens all of our hearts, our souls.

The Alice Obsession

2010-03-25T10:30:00.002-04:00

Lila's obsession with Alice in Wonderland is not going away. In fact, it may be getting worse.

Gage is OVER IT. He doesn't want to "play white rabbit games" anymore. He doesn't want to watch Alice (we stream the 80s live action version from Netflix for Lila), he doesn't want to talk about her, read her at bedtime, nothing. He's done. He will still call Lila 'Alice,' but that's only because she doesn't respond otherwise.

The weather has been great lately. We've had a few rainy days, and a few windy days, but overall it's been in the high 60s and sunny. Wonderful. We've spent a lot of time outdoors, and Lila is slowly and steadily "digging a rabbit hole" by the swingset.

My mom jumped off the Alice wagon quickly (and smartly), by telling Lila "I'm not a good white rabbit. But your mommy is!" Lila considered this, and accepted it. Now she tells me, "Grandma's not a good white rabbit, but YOU are!" (Thanks, Mom.)

Gage caught on, because yesterday I heard him telling Lila, "I'm not a good white rabbit."

"Me either!" I interjected, kind of frantically. "Neither am I!" My allies are abandoning me!

Gage fixed his eyes on me and said, "Yes you are. Mommy's a great white rabbit." His steely gaze clearly told me: 'You're on your own.'

So it's down to me.

I can't tell you how many times a day we play Alice in Wonderland. She consumes much more than her fair share of our daily lives. Since Lila's birthday is coming up (May 23rd) I'm playing with some ideas of an Alice-themed party. Lila would be overjoyed, I'm sure.

On another topic, we had Gage's preschool parent/teacher conference and it went very well. Gage will be entering Kindergarten in the fall! My big guy!

Running & Updates

2010-03-17T10:23:00.005-04:00

Six weeks after Josie's birth I was given the go-ahead to start exercising. Given the amount of butter I consumed throughout my pregnancy, exercising was high on my list of priorities. Mike and I started working out immediately, using these videos: The Biggest Loser 'The Workout' and Jillian Michaels - 30 Day Shred.

I know exercise videos aren't for everyone, but they work really well for me and Mike, especially during the winter. February in Pennsylvania = not much time spent outdoors. Plus we have this house full of little kids...we can't just take off for the gym. If I get an hour to myself I'm going to Borders to page through a cookbook while sipping a coffee (in blessed silence). There's no way that Mike and I can each have 6 hours a week to ourselves to go to the gym. Plus, it's expensive.

And the videos seriously offer quite a good workout.

There's a point to all this.

We worked out for two months, six days a week. I stopped eating so much butter and started eating more salad. Dinner every night is 1/4 protein, 1/4 carb & 1/2 vegetable (one green, one other). No more binging on meat & carbs. Actually, that's not fair. We've always eaten a lot of veggies, but now we're eating more.

Two weeks ago I started running - just to see how it would go. I've never been a runner. Heck, I've never been anything even approximating a runner. But I wanted to give it a shot, because I could tell that my body was stronger and tighter than it has been in years.

The first day I ran two miles.

I was ecstatic and shocked and I couldn't wait to try again the next day.

The second day I ran two and a half miles.

I decided to add 1/10 of a mile each day and when I hit three miles I sprained my ankle.

Ugh.

So I've been giving my ankle the necessary rest for the past several days and I actually feel really antsy and I want to get back to working out. I'm really very eager to begin again - and this feels alien to me, but good. I can't wait to start running, especially since it's getting nice outside.

Yes, me. Jen. Can you believe it!?

Of course, I still have a long way to go. But that's fine. I'd rather do this slow and steady, to build up to a proper lifestyle change.

The kids.

Baby Jos was at the doctor yesterday for her four month well baby visit. She is quite healthy and very strong. She is 12 pounds, 5 ounces and 23 1/4 inches long. She is rolling over both ways and she loves to, when she's lying down, grab your fingers and pull herself up to a sitting position. She is grabbing things and trying to get them into her mouth now. Her favorite thing to grab? Gage's fingers. He thinks it's hysterical when she gnaws on his knuckles, and this never gets old...for either of them.

Lila and I had a problem yesterday. The booster for her chair at the dining room table broke, and it was one of those times when you see the broken thing and know that you can live without if for quite some time, but regardless of that you clap your hands together and say "We need to go to Target. Right now." Lila happily agreed to go with me, but when I went to buckle her in her carseat she freaked out.

Acceptable way to handle this: "I changed my mind. I'd rather stay home and play."

Strong-willed two year old's way of handling this: (screeches like an injured monkey while contorting body and arching back to degrees previously assumed impossible without sustaining major bodily injury)

Me: (carried her, kicking and screaming, back into the house where she sat in time-out for several minutes until she could pull herself together)

Lila: "Sowwy, Mommy." (chin quivering, cheeks blotchy red, eyes swollen)
Me: "That was absolutely unacceptable, Lila. We do not throw fits in this house."
Lila: "But I won't do it next time."
Me: "Let's try it again."

The trip to Target was uneventful, which was good. We had a nice time together, and Lila was a good listener (despite pointing at practically everything and suggesting that we buy it. Good idea, Li, but we don't really need a helium tank. Also, men's pants will not fit you.).

On the way home I asked her what she wanted to listen to. Mike and I normally play whatever we're in the mood for from the iPod but once in a while we let the kids choose. Gage often pipes up: "Funk Soul Brother!" (Fatboy Slim). Lila usually picks Bob Marley, which she did this time.

I'll give you her half of the conversation. You can probably fill in mine.
"What's a buffalo soldier?"
"What's taken from Africa?"
"What's war with America?"
"What's fighting?"
(I tell her that she and I had a fight earlier, when she was throwing a fit about Target)
"Oh. But I was Alice then."
(I assure her she was Lila)
"No, I was Alice."
"No, I was Alice."
"No, I was Alice."

-Long Silence-

"What's agree to disagree?"

Mike and I were standing in the front yard chatting with the neighbors last week, and Gage was playing with the last of the snow. He used a shovel to fill a small wagon with snow, then ran inside. He came out with two bottles of beer, which he stuck in the wagon, nestled in the snow. He pulled it to Mike and the neighbor, saying "Beer delivery!"

I laughed and said, "That's great service! You know, I could use a sandwich."

His eyes brightened and he leaned toward me seriously. "What kind do you want?"

Gage and I went out to lunch last week, just me and him, and he chose a Chinese restaurant. We had a very nice time and I was impressed that he used chopsticks for the entire meal. He has little kid 'learning' chopsticks at home (they're hinged at the top) but these were proper 'adult' chopsticks and he had very little trouble with them. What a big guy!

Two shoutouts:

My poor Mom is having a rough time. Her father was just diagnosed with Shingles and her dog (a 12-year-old lab) had surgery yesterday and is not doing well. I know this is a difficult time for her and I know that there's not much anyone can do to help...all we can count on is good doctors and the passage of time. But I wish to send her strength in these stressful days.

On the lighter end, congratulations to my dear friend Raine, who had a baby girl two days ago. Abigail joins a big sister and I'm so happy for Raine and her family. I'm thrilled that Abigail and her mommy are healthy and strong. Congrats!

Nicknames

2010-03-04T11:08:00.002-05:00

Gage and Lila have been playing "Alice" the past several days. We're reading Alice In Wonderland at bedtime, a chapter a night, and the kids *love* it. (We finished reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - for the second time in a row - about a week ago and they requested Alice next.)

Usually Lila is Alice, and Gage is The White Rabbit. Lila walks around carrying a cookie in one hand (the 'eat me' cake) and a little bottle in the other (the 'drink me' drink). She nibbles and sips, and frantically repeats "Which way? Which way?" and pretends to grow and shrink. Gage hops around saying "Oh, my whiskers. Where is my fan? Where are my gloves?" Then Lila cries a lot and swims through her tears. It was the cutest game ever (the first 100 times).

Which brings me to nicknames. Lila often likes us to call her 'Snow White' or 'Sleeping Beauty' (which she knows nothing about - other than they are 'princesses'). After we kiss Sleeping Beauty she smiles at us and says "Now I'm Awake Beauty!"

She loves, right now, to be called Alice. What she does NOT like to be called? Alice Walice Palice Talice. She SHRIEKS when Gage calls her this, she screams: "My. Name. Is. ALICE!"

But Gage got this from her - she sometimes calls him Gager Rager Pager Tager. And me Mommy Wommy Pommy Tommy.

She can dish it out, but she can't take it.

We call Lila: Ms. Lila, Monkey 2, and, often, Li. Gage sometimes calls her Sweetie Pie, which is adorable. Also: Little Girl.

We call Gage: Gager, Gagerdoo, Monkey 1. Lila calls him Gager Rager Honeydew and Gagie.

We call Josephine: Josie, Jos, Baby Jos, Monkey 3, Josephine Jellybean and Josephine the Dancing Queen.

I did have to tell Lila that I don't like the nickname 'Mommy Wommy Pommy Tommy' (partially because it took her an hour and a half to ask me a simple question). Her response? "Okay, Princess Mommy."

Josie The Great

2010-02-25T23:27:00.002-05:00

Jos is rolling both ways already - front-to-back *and* back-to-front. We had to pack the bouncy seat back into the attic because she sits up in it, and can tip to the side (and fall out). As soon as you put her in it, she sits up. It's ridiculous.

Have I mentioned she's three freaking months old!? HOW do Mike and I make such wiry children?

Gage keeps asking me when we're having Baby #4. My head swims.

He wants another sister. Honestly, he's the best big brother I've ever met. He's eternally patient with Josie. He is gentle, quiet, soothing, protective. Lila...he seems to figure she can more or less stand up for herself (which, really, is accurate). But Josie is the love of Gage's life.

I vote we wait a few years before we broach the 'Baby #4' topic.

Goodness.

Lunch with Lila

2010-02-24T09:39:00.002-05:00

The upside to Mike being laid off is that we've been able to have more one-on-one time with the kids. And we spent a Monday, a couple of weeks ago, at the Please Touch Museum in Philadelphia. It was awesome - the kids had a lot of fun.

I have been going into the office every morning from 9-noon, and then I drop Gage at preschool Mon-Wed. This Monday, after dropping Gage off, Lila and I went out to lunch. Just the two of us. I was really looking forward to our lunch date. Lila was excited, too. We went to a small, fancy sandwich shop / caterer not far from our house. For some reason I kind of expected us to chat, not really remembering that Lila is two. Gage can hold real conversations, and Lila is always piping up with her opinions so I guess I thought she was participating in the conversations more than she actually is. Once we were alone I realized that, charmingly, Lila's speech is made up mostly of observations combined with anything major that happened to her recently. She was not interested in the back-and-forth of conversation...she wanted to entertain me.

"Snowflakes!" she cried, pointing. Every couple of feet a sparkly wooden snowflake hung from the ceiling. "Can I reach it?" she grunts as she reaches her arm up as high as it can go. Not coming close, she begins to stand up in her seat.

"No, sweetie, you must sit in your chair. What do you want? Tuna salad? A hamburger?"

She settles back into the seat and, still looking up, says "I will eat snowflakes for lunch." Then she giggles as though she's told a hysterical joke. She reaches up again and pretends to grab a flake, makes a chomping noise like she's eating it.

"You're funny," I smile.

Chomp. There goes another snowflake. Chomp.

"What should we order for lunch? Do you want turkey?"

"I will eat alllll the snowflakes." She's grinning and bouncing in her chair as she reaches up again and again, pretending to pull all the decorations from the ceiling.

The waitress comes over to take our order.

"Milk!" Lila exclaims, as though she's gone days without a drink.

"Lila," I squint at her warningly.

"I mean," she begins again, and switches her voice to quiet, sweet and high-pitched, "May I please have some milk?" This polite voice is like a parody of a polite voice. Too sweet, too girlie, too wheedling. I love it.

"That's much better. Coffee for me." By the IV, if possible. "She will have the chicken soup and a bowl of fruit." I order my own sandwich and the waitress retreats.

"I like that nice lady," Lila says, watching her walk away.

"So, how was your morning?" I ask.

Lila holds up a hand, and I see a small, colorful band-aid wrapped around one of her fingers. "I was jump-jump-jumping on the trampoline," (the kids have a small, indoor trampoline with an attached rail to hold for balance) "And I hit my finger with my tooth and I was crying and crying. I was crying so hard and then I stopped and I didn't turn into a piggy." (Thanks, Alice in Wonderland.)

"Oh my," I say sympathetically. "That sounds like it really hurt."

"Daddy gave me a band-aid."

"I see that."

"I was jump-jump-jumping on the trampoline," Lila begins again.

"Yeah, and you hurt your finger."

"I hit my finger with my tooth." (Wait, didn't we just have this conversation?) "I was crying so hard. But I didn't--"

"Yeah, you didn't turn into a piggy," I'm trying to rush her through the instant replay because the waitress is back with our drinks. Lila says a quiet Thank You as her milk is placed in front of her.

"That lady is nice," Lila says again, and wrinkles her brow in concentration as she opens her straw wrapper.

"What else did you do this morning?"

"Played with Gager." She looks up, and chomps a few more snowflakes. "Here, Mommy," she picks up her milk and passes it to me. I lunge for it - it's full and wobbly in her little hands. "I want to share my milk."

"Oh, thank you. But that's okay. You drink it."

"No, I want to shaaare."

"All right," I take a tiny sip of milk and make an appropriate yummy sound. "You want some coffee?"

"No!" she laughs.

"Good girl."

"I have to poop!"

"Let's go," I take her hand and we start the amazingly long journey to the bathroom. It's like a quarter mile from the table, through many skinny, ill-lighted hallways. Some places have the strangest bathrooms, and you see them all when you have little kids.

No action, but lots of hand-scrubbing later (Lila loves to wash her hands) lands us back at our table.

"Why don't you tell me a story?" I ask.

"Once upon a time," she begins immediately, "There was a pointy tree and it was chasing us! It was chasing the big girl and the mommy and the daddy. They said, 'Oh no!'" She's getting a little loud, and I shush her a bit so we don't make any enemies. "They were running and the big pointy tree was chasing them!"

"Wow, that sounds scary."

"Yeah. And once upon a time there was a big girl and the big girl said 'I hate Baby Josie!' and the big girl went to time out in her bunk bed all day."

My eyes widen. One the one hand I'm surprised, on the other hand not really. "Well, anyone who says they hate someone should go to time out, because that's not a nice thing to say." Lila looks at me, like, I know. Weren't you listening to the story?

Luckily our food arrives, sparing us both from any more stories involving the tiny screamer who replaced Lila as the baby in the family.

Lila enthusiastically spoons up her soup, pleased with the celery 'moons' in each bite. She's content to eat peacefully for several minutes, and so am I. She turns her attention to her fruit and picks up a cube of green melon with her fork.

"What's this?" it's been a long time since we've had summer fruits.

"That's honeydew. Melon."

She gobbles it, spears another piece of fruit. "What's this?"

"That's canteloupe. Melon."

"What's this?"

"Pineapple."

"What's this?"

"A grape. You know what grapes are."

"What's this?"

"Honeydew. Sweetie...." I try to think of a way to change the subject.

"Have some," she pushes the fork toward my mouth.

"I wish I could, but I'm allergic."

"Just have a little," she urges. She puts on the polite, wheedling voice again. "Just have a little, Mommy."

"I can't." No means no, Lila! I'm getting peer pressure from a two-year-old!

"I have to poop!"

Back through the hallways we go, under the flickering, buzzing lights. Past the strange and unwelcoming doorways that must lead to storage rooms. Why does the bathroom have to be so far away?

"You really have to go this time," I tell her, "Because this is the last trip to the potty."

"Okay," she says.

Back at the table I finish my sandwich and Lila finishes her fruit. She's eaten a decent amount of soup. The waitress refills my coffee and packages up the remaining soup for us to take home.

"I like that nice lady," Lila says.

"Yeah, me too." Lila has been eyeing the spinning display of cakes and now the restaurant is mostly empty, save for a handful of older women (who think Lila is "Just adorable! How old are you, sweetie, three?" "Yes," Lila nods. I hide a smile and say "She'll be three in May."). I figure it's safe now to let her look around a little, since the display is in plain view and not far away.

"Lila, you've done a good job of staying in your seat. Would you like to go look at those cakes?"

"Yes!"

"Okay. You may, but you have to come back when I call you."

"Okay!" She trots off, and stares at the cake display while I sip my coffee.

"Mommy," she stage whispers. "Call me back."

"What? Oh, um, Lila, come back please." She trots back to me, then breaks into a run. "Walk," I remind her. You must walk." She immediately slows, taking slow-motion, exaggerated steps.

"Let's go pay," I say, taking my last gulp of coffee. At the register Lila picks up a tin of candy.

"What's this?"

"Mints."

"You like mint! Here you go, Mommy." She slides the tin onto the counter while I'm getting money from my bag.

"Oh, thanks, sweetie, but we're not going to buy these." I put the mints back on the rack and hand the money to the cashier.

"And what's your name?" the cashier asks. Lila, suddenly shy, turns her face into my legs.

"Say, 'My name's Lila,'" I prompt.

"My name's Yi-yah," she whispers.

"Aww, how sweet," the cashier smiles. "You want these mints, too?"

"What? No," I put the mints back again - this kid is slick. I didn't even see her put them up there the second time.

We get our coats on, and we've survived a nice lunch together in peace, repetition and observation. I love this kid.

We had a great time, and it was truly lovely to get out with just Li. I'm going to do a solo-Gage trip sometime this week, and then Mike will do solo trips with them next week.

Last night I said, "Tell Grandma who you went to lunch with yesterday," and I had to laugh at Lila's memory of it.

"Baby Josie!" Lila cried.

"No, remember...it was just Lila and...."

"Daddy! And Mommy! And Gage! And Baby Josie!"

"Left quite an impression on her, our alone time," I joked to my mom.

But I'll remember it well. Me and my girl.

Enjoy Every Sandwich

2010-02-22T11:12:00.004-05:00

Mike and I have been talking a lot lately about making every moment count. We have sort of different ideas about it, and I can really only tell you mine, since I really only understand mine.

I am having lots of fun with my kids. I love being married to Mike. We laugh every day and I can't imagine being happier than I am right now.

But.

And there's always a but, right? Things are busy. Things are crazy. Last night we had three crying kids at the dinner table, and that's hard. (Gage could not swallow the bite of roasted eggplant in his mouth and it started dribbling chunkily into his lap in a most disgusting way, Lila fell out of her chair and landed sharply on her hip, and Josie was...well...she's a baby.) Mike and I stared across the table at each other, half-grinning in that insane "Where do we go from here?" way.

There's always more to do. I cannot take care of the kids, prepare meals, keep up on laundry *and* have a spotless house. I just can't do it. And I don't really care. Who cares? I'd like to have a clean house, but it's not going to be me who keeps it perfect. I have priorities, and there are a lot of things that I need to do in a day before I collapse from exhaustion and stare unhappily at the cherry juice stain on the table, or the pile of socks and undies on the bathroom floor. Everything is sticky and nothing is perfect. And I'm okay with that.

Mike likes to quote Warren Zevon who, in his last days, advised us all to "Enjoy every sandwich." Sage advice, words that put a lump in my throat, but, of course, impossible to do. I propose that maybe part of the joy of this time is being overwhelmed. I am living (struggling through, at times) a very special time in my life, a time that I will forever look back on with want. Maybe it's okay to be so immersed in picture books and paint and flour and markers and tape and laundry and, yes, crying, that it's a privilege to be snowed under by it. There's so much little kid in my life right now that later, when I miss it, I'll remember fondly the gluttonous overflow of little kid.

It's what Mike and I call the "Steak Again?" phenomenon. I worked for years in the kitchen of a fine dining restaurant, and employee meals were on the house - whatever the restaurant had a surplus of on any given day. Some days were light - a big bowl of pasta with fresh tomato sauce. Other days were fantastic - a thick slice of shrimp and crab and cheese heaven with a flaky crust. Most days it was steak. The first couple of weeks I was thrilled to have tender strips of medium-rare meat, with a big serving of buttery garlic mashed potatoes and sauteed vegetables. It was so pleasing to have this fine meal, for free, after an evening of hard work.

After a couple of months, though, and then years, those of us in the 'back of the house' began jokingly complaining, "Steak again?" And then kind of groaning for real, because there's only so much red meat a person can eat.

I don't know if this makes any sense. It's hard to explain.

I used to babysit for a four-year-old boy - a clever, creative kid, actually smart as a whip. One day his dad was kissing him goodbye and said, "I love you. You know I love you, right?" and the boy said "I know," in an eye-rolling, give-me-a-break kind of way. How delightful! How amazing to be so often reminded of your parents' love, that you can brush it off, just completely knowing that it's there.

Steak again?

Imagine having the overabundance of such a happy thing that it's actually, pleasurably, too much. It's a benefit to be so full of something wonderful, that it's everywhere you look.

So while Mike tries to enjoy every sandwich I'm more content to acknowledge the craziness of my life right now and bask in it. I have the privilege of being annoyed by mopping spilled milk for the third time today, and I have the privilege of reading this book one more time, when we all already know it by heart.

It won't be like this forever.

As for my favorite Warren Zevon quote, it's also rather live-in-the-day:

Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight.

Back to Work

2010-02-17T10:26:00.002-05:00

Sitting at my desk at work I feel a wave of nostalgia for being pregnant. Around me are reminders of that time that already feels so long ago. That big, awkward, round, uncomfortable time...that also happened to be miraculous.

In my drawer there are individually wrapped Jaw Breakers, for the sweet cravings. Also packets of sunflower seeds in their shells, for the salty cravings.

A bottle of Mylanta for the constant heartburn.

I have pictures of my kids taped to my computer monitor. My eyes hurt from staring at the screen - I'm no longer accustomed to this.

It's strange to have more than one life.

Maternity Leave

2010-02-09T13:47:00.002-05:00

I go back to work in two days. Sigh.

I've had three months off, and it's been wonderful. Josie is often quite a fussy baby, but she also has sweet times (Gage was fussy full-time, and didn't get sweet until he was an older baby). So Jos requires a lot of attention, which I am happy to give her. We've had some very long days of lots of crying and no naps, but we've also had plenty of all-around excellent days to make up for it.

My stint as a stay-at-home mom has been priceless. I love to cook and bake and have enjoyed family dinners made from scratch, with lots of help from Gage (this weekend he picked Black and White Cookies from a recipe book and we made them together - they were good!). We've also had many fun evenings together, which we don't normally have when I'm working. There's just, of course, not enough time.

Some highlights from the break have been:

The Polar Express Train Ride. We went in mid-December on a two-hour train ride in Phillipsburg, NJ. The Polar Express was read over the loud speakers, the kids (dressed in their PJs) got hot chocolate and cookies. Santa came through and talked to everyone. It was charming and cold and loud and the kids had a blast.

Christmas. My favorite memories from this Christmas were (1) Gage wrapped seven presents for me and put them under the tree. He was worried I'd feel left out because I spent one morning wrapping presents for him, Lila, Jos & Mike and I put them under the tree for decoration. Gage was concerned about my not having any gifts, so he collected some items from around the house and wrapped them for me. On Christmas morning I opened the calculator I use for balancing the checkbook (which I had blamed Mike for stealing), a bottle of super glue, a roll of packing tape, some stickers, an invitation to a birthday party (I'd had to call the mother of the birthday boy to say "What time is the party again? I can't seem to find the invitation anywhere!"). I told Gage that I was happy that he had chosen so many things that I really like (for real - I love super glue and use the calculator all the time). He smiled and said "I watched you to see what you like so you'd have nice presents." Such a sweetheart. (2) My parents bought a certain Cabbage Patch Doll that Lila has been eyeing for months (you can style its hair). When Lila opened it her face lit up and she just kept saying "I wanted this! I wanted this!" over and over. She was clearly thrilled. (3) Both the older two were really interested in Josie's gifts and happy for her when she got something neat. I love these kids.

New Year's. We had our friends' kids, Bella and Wyatt, sleep over on New Year's Eve. Gage voted himself the supplier of snacks and set out a lovely plate full of candy - decorated beautifully and colorfully. It was enjoyed by all.

Gage and Lila have always done a lot of art projects but Gage has ramped it up even more in recent weeks. It's like he turned a corner, or a lightbulb went off or something, because now his artwork is recognizable - people look like people, trees look like trees. He still likes to do scribbles and random shapes, too, and he is quick to explain these: "It's abstract."

Lila has a new dream - to be a ballerina. She loves to watch ballet on TV and I pull her hair back, she slips into a gauzy skirt and she prances and spins around the living room. She lifts one foot high into the air, balancing with one hand on the coffee table, and shouts: "I'm doin' it!"

Josie is almost three months old now, and is very strong. She likes to be held in a standing position, with her feet in your lap, so she can put weight on her legs. When she's on her belly on the floor she lifts her head way high up to look around. She smiles and coos at us and playfully sticks her tongue out. Her eyes are so bright and alert, and have been since birth.

Gage made up his first poem today, and is quite proud of himself. Here it is:

Achoo
Let me through
To get a tissue

He carefully wrote it out, letter by letter (with prompting from me), on a piece of construction paper. Then he spilled soup on it and started all over again. "Wasn't that sad luck?" he asked me. But he wrote it all again, cheerfully. He added "To Grandma, From Gage" on the bottom of the page and we mailed it to my mom this afternoon. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to get such a lovely poem in the mail.

I'm trying to face returning to work the best I can. Of course I'm disappointed, but we have no choice at this point. Mike was laid off two weeks ago and *should* be rehired in March, but we don't know yet for sure. It's scary for him to be out of a job, but not unexpected in this economy, nor in his line of work in the middle of winter. We're taking things week by week, and trying not to picture the current situation as long-term. He will be back at work sometime soon, and if things go well maybe I'll be able to take more time off. We'll just have to see how it plays out.

So, remaining present, it's supposed to snow another 18 inches today on top of the six we already have. So tomorrow may be a 'snowed in' day, which is my very favorite part of winter. I'll bake bread, maybe sticky buns, and roast a turkey for dinner. There's nothing like a warm house full of good smells to combat the snow. And Sunday is Gage's Second Annual Valentine's Day Party, so we have baking and crafts to do for that, too.

I have loved the last three months of my life more than I've loved any other time, as long as I can remember. I'm sad to change my schedule, but we'll do what we have to do and we'll try to smile our way through it. Nothing's easy, and keeping busy is better than not. Right? (Well, it's got to be when you don't have a choice.) Right.

Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T22:36:00.003-05:00

We had a great Thanksgiving dinner at my mom's house...21 people total. 13 adults, 6 kids aged 2-6 and 2 babies. It was a bit wild, as it should be with kids this age, and definitely wonderful.

The highlights:

Gage is thankful for "The 'Little Gardeners' book at my Grandma's house." Lila is thankful for "My healthy Mommy. And my healthy Daddy." (That one nearly made me cry.) Josie, if she could talk, would most certainly be thankful for my breasts.

Gage ate very well, having second servings of the veggies, and looked around the room at everyone talking and laughing. He stage-whispered to me, "I thought Thanksgiving Feasts were supposed to be quiet." Ha! It'll be a long time before we have a quiet Thanksgiving...and I think I prefer the loud ones anyway.

Lila sat next to my dad, her beloved Pop-pop, during dinner. At one point she took a bite of squash and got that deer-in-the-headlights look. She glanced around and took my dad's napkin off his lap - ignoring her own napkin - and spit her bite of squash into his napkin. She wiped her tongue once or twice and balled up the napkin. "Here, Pop-pop," she said, handing it back to him. Gross, Lila! My dad laughed and surely saw a bit of his own influence in his grand-daughter's sneakiness.

All in all, dinner was a great success. And I'm already hungry again.

Some Random

2009-11-26T01:07:00.004-05:00

I am totally, completely in love with Josie. We all are. It's amazing how much this tiny girl moves us...she's definitely something special.

The smell of the hospital...especially the green hand soap...makes me want to cry. I wish I could smell that soap once a month for the rest of my life. It brings me right back to my babies...to each baby.

Josie looks a lot like Gage as a newborn. Especially her profile.

Gage and Lila love their new baby sister so much. They often ask to hold her, and I always say Yes. They sit on the couch and hold her in their little laps, and stare at her sweet squishy face. "I like her! I really like her!" they always say, as if surprised.

I know that everything I'm thinking and feeling right now is riddled with hormones, so I am trying to take it with a grain of salt. That said, I totally want a fourth baby someday. Right now I'm all about Josie, and trying to wring every moment of babyhood out of her, but I definitely feel like we'll have one more. Someday.

Gage and I have been calling her 'Jos.' Like, rhymes with 'Most' but without the 't.' I like it.

Speaking of crying, I was actually brought to tears when I heard a little song from a baby toy that has been in the attic for two years. Actual tears. From a battery-operated musical toy. And so it goes.

Unbelievably (and again: riddled with hormones), I am already nostalgic for my baby belly. Also, I CANNOT get over the fact that this kid was INSIDE me a week and a half ago! Geezum! How did THAT work!?

Josie seems wise - she has big, alert eyes and is quiet and observant. It'll be interesting to see how that plays out...whether or not those qualities stay. She's all potential right now.

My first beer in ten months was nice...but rather anticlimactic.

I forgot how much I'm charmed by the little birdy mouth of a nursing baby...the way she twists her neck and fish-kisses my bicep. She knows how to get her point across, for sure.

I'm really, really happy.

She's Here!

2009-11-26T00:46:00.004-05:00

Josephine Lynn, AKA Baby Josie, was born on Monday, November 16th, at 5:20 AM at 7 pounds and 19 inches.

*Warning* Detailed birth story follows! (Written 11/20/09)

Saturday night I had what I thought was yet another case of false labor. I've had many (at least a dozen) instances of lots of contractions, increasing in intensity and getting closer together, but never quite *painful* and they always ended abruptly. I learned that the best thing to do is try to go to sleep ASAP, and if the contractions wake me up…I'll deal with it then. Every time that I had false labor at night the contractions were gone by morning.

Sunday morning they were still there, but still irregular and not painful. The kids and I took a walk around the neighborhood, then went to the grocery store with my mom. Our dear babysitter Abbey volunteered to come watch the kids, knowing that I was really close to having Josie. She came over and I called the doctor at 4:00 PM on Sunday and said, "I don't think I'm in labor yet but things are starting." He told me to call back when the contractions got more intense.

Mike and I walked around the neighborhood for a while and decided to go out to dinner. I still wasn’t sure that I was in labor, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt. I had a serious craving for fajitas so we went to Jack Creek, and got hot wings as well, just in case spicy food would help things along. We got home, put the kids to bed, and settled in. At 9:00 PM I got my first painful contraction. I wrote down the time, and made a decision to write down only the contractions that were painful. I’ve had so many contractions lately that I can drive myself crazy trying to record them – this painful one was notably different.

I continued to have painful contractions for the next few hours, but they were few and far between. I’d have a painful one, then a couple of minor ones, then another painful one. The painful ones were about 20 minutes apart but the minor ones were every five or six minutes. At 1:30 AM I had a *very* painful contraction and I called the doctor. “I think I should go to the hospital,” I told him. He agreed.

My parents came over so Mike and I could leave. My dad was going to stay with the kids until I had the baby, and my mom was going to give us a head-start and then come over to the hospital to be with me. While we waited for them, and on the drive to St. Luke’s my contractions got a bit more painful and a bit more regular. I still wasn’t sure that this was the real thing, but I was getting more convinced by the minute.

I was admitted to triage on the labor & delivery floor at 2:00 AM, and changed into a gown, got hooked up to a monitor. Here’s where things get interesting.

We had a decent nurse, but she wasn’t very proactive. Once she hooked up the monitor she left, and we didn’t see anyone for maybe a half hour. Then a med student came in, and I swear I think it was his first day in L&D. He seemed to have very little idea about what, exactly, labor was. He gave us this whole speech, with lots of fumbled words and vague descriptions, basically saying, “We’ll do an ultrasound to determine if the baby is head-down.” (She was – and I knew this.) “We’ll check you to see if you’re dilating.” (Yes, please, now.) “I can see by the monitor that you’re having contractions every four minutes. We’ll leave you hooked up to the monitor for a few hours to see if you’re really in labor.” (Um, what?)

He left again without checking me or doing the ultrasound, and popped his head in ten minutes later. “It’s going to be a while before anyone comes in to see you,” he said. “A woman has just unexpectedly gone into labor.” (Again: Um, what?) Turns out he meant someone progressed much faster than they were expecting (a hint of what’s to come?) and was ready to push. “Let the nurse know if anything changes.”

Two minutes after he left I told Mike, “No way am I waiting for him. I wasn’t even checked yet!” My contractions were 3-4 minutes apart and quite uncomfortable. “Tell the nurse I’m feeling pressure.” This wasn’t a lie – I *was* feeling more pressure – but it was a bit of a prompt. When my sister had her third baby the nurse mentioned in hush-hush tones that the way to get your cervix checked was to mention the word ‘pressure.’

My nurse said, “Oh, we’ll check you right away – the woman who is having her baby now was feeling pressure – turns out she was 10 centimeters!” I said, “I’m hoping for an epidural, so I’d like to get that started before I get too far along.” Here’s the second hint of what’s to come: the nurse said, “She was hoping for an epidural, too, but she didn’t get one!” Ha. Ha.

She checks me – I’m 3-4 centimeters. Good. Not too far – plenty of time left. But my contractions are coming harder and faster, and I’m getting really uncomfortable. The nurse says that my cervix is super thin, and any movement (or any randomness) will break my water. The nurse also says she’s going to start an IV and take blood – they have to check your blood in the lab and you have to have 1-2 bags of saline through the IV before you can get the epidural. By now it’s about 3:30 AM.

She takes the blood, she starts the IV. S l o w l y. I can’t believe how long she’s taking. I can see that she’s not busy, and I can see that she’s not hurrying. My mom arrives – I’m glad she’s there. The med student comes back in with a doctor, the doctor checks my cervix. I’m 5-6 centimeters. They all exclaim over how quick that was – going from 3-4 to 5-6 in twenty minutes. Mike and I look at each other – I think it’s this moment that we know I’m not getting the epidural. Obviously I’m progressing quickly, and they’re not reacting to me quickly at all.

I’m moved to a delivery room via wheelchair and by now it’s about 4:00. The contractions are two minutes apart now, and each one lasts about a minute. It’s very intense. My own doctor comes in to check me and I’m 8 cm. He wants to break my water. I’m scared, because I know that the contractions will get worse when the water is gone, and the contractions are already pretty darn bad. The nurse says that my bloodwork is not done, so the anesthesiologist cannot yet put in the epidural. My doctor says: “Do you want to do this on your own?” I feel tears well up in my eyes but I nod my head ‘yes.’

He tells me he’s going to break my water and check my cervix again, although it’s only been a few minutes. I feel the gush, then I feel an awful pain that makes me groan out loud. I can’t believe how much this hurts – I’m vaguely embarrassed at my vocal reaction – but then it’s over. “I tried to stretch out your cervix,” the doctor says. “Sometimes when I break the water I can stretch the cervix out to ten, if you’re already close. But I couldn’t. You can still get the epidural if you want it.”

The contractions seem to never let up. I can barely catch my breath. Mike keeps saying “You’re going to be okay. You’re doing great.” I finally have to tell him “I know. Please stop talking.”

The anesthesiologist is on his way, finally, and it’s 4:30 AM. I’m struggling to breathe through the contractions. The nurse keeps telling me to breathe differently, and, as it turns out, wrong. My instincts told me to breathe shallow, quick breaths. The nurse kept telling me to take deep, long breaths. Her way was much more difficult for me to do, more painful, but I tried to do as she said. I wish she had let me do it my own way – I believe that would have made things a bit easier. I wish I had known that my instincts were telling me to breathe the way Lamaze teaches – then I could have stood up for myself and told the nurse to shove it.

The anesthesiologist gets held up – there’s an emergency.

Another half hour of breathing through the contractions. Each one seemingly worse than the last. Many of them double contractions – I’d have a normal contraction, feel it begin to let up, then it would worsen again, right into another contraction. I just had to deal. There was no other choice. I was grateful for the single contractions – at least that way I got a bit of a break. With every contraction I’m breathing vocally on each exhale – I’m dragging a breath in and humming it back out.

My mom, who had three babies with no pain relief, gave me a brief coaching session. She told me not to be afraid of pushing – that the painful part of labor was the contractions, not the pushing. I nodded my head and gripped her hand harder.

The anesthesiologist finally arrives, after 5:00 AM. I struggle into a sitting position so that he can insert the catheter into my spine. While sitting I have three contractions. It’s absolutely essential not to move during this procedure, and the contractions were the worst yet. I know that being in an upright position contributed to the intensity of the contractions, but what I didn’t know was that my body was transitioning into the final stage of labor. The first contraction I breathed through, focusing only on getting through it. I’m now groaning through each inhale *and* exhale, and, again, I’m vaguely embarrassed, but not nearly enough to try to stop myself. The second contraction felt different – like the baby was pushing down, hard. I figured, again, that it was because I was sitting up. The third contraction coincided with the anesthesiologist finishing up, and with this third contraction my body started to push the baby out.

It wasn’t a conscious choice, and it wasn’t something that I felt I could control. My body was pushing and I was along for the ride. I’ve heard the phrase ‘urge to push’ but this was not an urge, it was a *need.* When the nurse realized what was happening she shrieked for me to stop pushing and I said back “I can’t!” She said, “You have to!” so I tried my best to stop. I was still sitting up at this point - they got me onto my back again and the room went mad. Nurses and doctors came running in, donning scrubs, adjusting the table. I had another ‘pushing’ contraction and managed to fight the urge – easier to do when I was on my back. When I was sitting up it was near impossible.

My doctor felt the baby’s head and said, “She’s still pretty high up, but we can start pushing.” I said, “Is the epidural in?” The anesthesiologist said, rather sheepishly, “The catheter is in, but the medicine hasn’t been turned on yet. It will take 15 minutes to work.” There was no waiting. This baby was coming NOW.

With the next contraction by OB talked me through it: “Take a deep breath, let it out. Take another deep breath, let it out. Then you push.” I knew how to push – this is my third baby, after all, and the first two came out pretty easily (I’m lucky to have small babies). I curled myself up, rounding out my back, and tucked my chin to my chest. I gave it my all and I felt the baby move down. I took another quick breath and pushed again. HARD. Her head was out. The doctor paused to unwrap the cord from around her neck – it was looped once. I felt like there was no way that my body could accommodate this baby coming out, but I know that there’s no other choice. I grunted “It *does* hurt!” while thinking about my mom’s words from earlier, and some part of my brain reminded me to focus, and I didn’t try to talk again. I took one more breath and pushed one last time. Her body was delivered, and she was out. She was out in one contraction.

And I felt every tiny little bit of it, start to finish.

Amazingly, as soon as she was born I felt a thousand times better. I had no stitches, which was great. I was in a scary, dark place for the last two hours of labor – it was terrifying and incredibly painful. But as soon as she was born it was over – the sun rose and everything was beautiful. I felt great. I felt amazing, actually.

The only lingering dark cloud was that awful med student sticking his head in the room to say “I guess you really were in labor!” Yeah. Thanks for that, pal.

We got to snuggle our new little one for two hours while the nurse filled out paperwork that should have been done before the delivery – but of course there had been no time. After those two hours I walked myself to the bathroom to clean up and I felt really good. I couldn’t believe how normal I felt. I was tired, of course, and sore, but not nearly as much as I expected.

I’m actually grateful that things turned out the way they did – sure it was a difficult time, but I did it. I’ve always been interested in natural childbirth but I was too intimidated to try it. This time I had no choice, and I am truly amazed at what my body did, what I did. It was trying, for sure, and definitely the most intense physical experience I’ve ever had, but then it was over – it ended. And I got a beautiful baby and a new respect for my body.

I keep looking at her, especially at her head, and marveling over how big she is. I’m smiling as I write this, because I know she’s not big, but she looks impressively large, considering where she came from. I’m totally in love with her. I’m also more than a little in awe of myself right now - my body and my ability to take things as they come. I handled it, for sure, and I’m really very proud of that.

I’m also glad that both Mike and my mom were there through the whole thing – we made a good team and none of us freaked out. We each saw solid, stand-up parts of each other that maybe, under normal circumstances, you don’t really see.

Baby Games

2009-10-26T16:36:00.003-04:00

Gage loves to play games with my belly. He kisses it, rubs it, laughs at how his arms can't reach around it. He shines flashlights at it, then turns them off, then on. ("It's day! It's night! It's day!") Lila is interested, too, but not nearly so intensely. She kisses my belly and certainly uses it for a pillow (which is funny when she gets tired - her head kind of rolls around on it), she pats it and says "Baby Josie kickin'!" but she doesn't really try to interact with it the way Gage does.

One of Gage's favorite belly activities is to share his blankie with the baby. He has a special blue blankie that he's had since babyhood, and he never sleeps without it. Anytime he's in the mood for a snuggle...out comes blankie. Recently he's taken to spreading his blanket out on my belly, then siting next to me and holding a corner of it for himself. He says, "Does the baby like that?" Imagining the rush of love that spreads through me at these gestures, the endorphins and relaxation, I am sure that she does, and I say Yes.

Sometimes Gage wants me to speak on behalf of the baby. I squeak out baby sentences and he thinks it's the funniest thing. The other day he put not one, but two blankets on my belly and I said in the baby voice, "Ooh, it's warm in here! It feels like summer. But I thought I was supposed to be born in the fall! How can it be summer already and I wasn't born?" Gage finds this *hysterical* and now needs to repeat the whole scenario several times a day. "Mommy, do that thing where the baby thinks it's summer!"

He always finishes these games by giving me a good squeeze and saying: "What's the baby thinking now?"

"My big brother loves me. I'm so lucky."

We are all so lucky.

Darn Pictures!

2009-10-23T01:29:00.003-04:00

Why do my landscape-shaped pictures always get cut off? What's the deal? Do I have to do something special to make them fit? I'm copying them from photobucket (which I'm angry at anyway for deleting my adorable baby bum pictures, saying that they 'violate' their 'terms' [sneer]).

Pumpkin Thief

2009-10-23T00:41:00.003-04:00

I'm almost through my 36th week. I have only three weeks to go before my due date...and I'm really getting excited. For months it was all I could do to think "Get through the pregnancy. Get through the pregnancy." Because even a straightforward, relatively uncomplicated pregnancy isn't *easy*. But now the focus has so shifted to "You will have a baby soon. You will be holding your newborn child sooner than you can imagine." I'm getting over yet another nasty cold and, finally feeling better, am relaxing into a peaceful "almost there" plateau. At least...today. Who knows how I'll feel tomorrow!?

I had an OB appointment today - I have gained 24 pounds and am 1cm dilated. I know that the 1cm of dilation doesn't mean much - I could be 1 cm dilated for another three weeks, or I could go into labor tonight - but it still feels good to see some official progress. I have lots of contractions and the baby is head-down and low, so it's all coming together.

Gage and Lila are excited to meet the new baby. Gage and I have been talking about how he and Daddy and Lila will come visit me and the baby in the hospital and he's getting into that idea. His only memorable hospital experience was one evening in the ER when he somehow scratched the inside of his throat while eating a pear and there was more blood than we were comfortable with. He was three at the time, probably around three and a half, and on the way to the hospital he quietly asked me, "Can we not tell the doctor about my froap hurting?"

I've explained that the part of the hospital he'll visit this time is a friendly part - all Mamas and their babies, nobody sick or scared. He seems okay with that, and the fact that I will be away from the house for a couple of days and, when I come back, it will be with Josie.

Strangely, a lot of well-meaning strangers keep trying to engage him in baby conversation by saying: "Wow, you'll be a big brother soon!" Gage always looks a bit confused, and I'm not sure what to say to that either. I know they're just being friendly, but Lila's right there, standing next to him. He already *is* a big brother! I end up saying, "And Lila will be a big sister for the first time." Pregnancy brain addles not only the pregnant woman...people come out with the most random, and often far too personal comments. I get just as many "Oh, you're absolutely tiny!" comments as I do "Wow, you look like you were due last week!" As a rule, it's best to just say "You look great." Let's not talk too much about size, can we agree on that? Every pregnant woman gets a big belly, and every pregnant woman is very aware of it.

Besides the cold, and the many viruses I've been dealing with in general the past couple of months, the only problem I'm having right now is nighttime. In addition to mild insomnia (I am writing this at 1AM, after all) I just can't get comfortable. I almost dread getting to bed because I know that the next several hours will be a string of wakings, a repeat of me rolling laboriously from one side to the other, only to wake and reverse the motion fifteen minutes later. It's long nights lately...long nights of peeing and rolling.

But soon this will all be a distant, and probably somewhat fond, memory. Mike said something to me the other day that made me smile: "You're at the stage where other pregnant women are jealous of you." He's right. I'm in the homestretch. I'm just about at the finish line. And that only happens by putting in the time, which is now (just about) behind me. If I saw someone as pregnant as I am I would know, "She's there. She's going to have a wonderful surprise very, very soon." I like being in that place.

When I was pregnant with Lila I really pictured her, as a newborn, as the female version of Gage. I imagined that she would have dark, full hair and huge eyes, a wise little expression. She was nothing like that at all! In fact, she had barely any hair and it was light-colored, and she almost never opened her eyes until she was several days old. What a shock! I can make two kinds of babies! Now my question is: Will Josie look like mini-Gage or mini-Lila? I have learned nothing - there's no possibility of a third kind of baby...just as I once made only Gages I now make Gages and I also make Lilas. Which will Josie be?

Lila stuns me with her memory and recall lately. She can look at any picture...people that she's met once, people that have aged significantly since the picture was taken...and know whose picture it is. It's amazing. I have never been good at facial recognition...nor is Gage. Mike is, and Lila is. But to see this tiny two-year-old look at a baby picture of a now-four-year-old friend and rattle off his name is amazing to me.

A few days ago Lila was riding in the cart at Wegmans, looked at me sweetly, and said, "Mama, will you sing that song 'Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do? I'm half crazy, all for the love of you?'" Impressed, I told Mike. He laughed and said, "Sounds like she didn't really need you to sing it at all!"

Gage has used a couple of adult-like phrases lately that just tickle me. He recently began saying "To be exact" and...get this...in context. It cracks me up! The first time I heard it he said, "Mama? Do M&Ms and peanut butter go together? Smooth peanut butter, to be exact." This kid!

Today he was making a sandwich for me with plastic food - a waffle, a slice of tomato, a piece of lettuce (which he always calls 'salad'), etc. He was about to present it to me and pulled it back, quickly rearranging the tower. "This will make it more appetizing," he said.

We've managed to get out and do a couple of fun fall activities...of course, I have to grin and bear it as fellow hay riders watch me bouncing comically in a wagon, joking about "Way to induce labor!" or "Watch that lady! She's trying to steal a pumpkin!"

Ha.

Ha.

Next week will be full of Halloween fun - a parade and party at Preschool, Trick-or-Treating, and a party at Grandma's. I collected a few little things for the kids (bat-shaped lollies, pumpkin tattoos, tiny boxes of candy corn) and I decided to give them their treats today, so they wouldn't be lost in the overwhelming Halloweenness of next week. I told the kids before dinner that I had a surprise for them that I would give them before bed (I still needed to put the things together in their respective baskets). Gage went a little crazy, wanting to know NOW about the surprise - Where was it? What was it? Why was I holding out on them? Didn't he understand that he really wanted me to tell him NOW? He actually began to tear up and I had to say: "I'm a little sad I even told you about the surprise. It seems like you're not excited, you're upset. That's not what I expected." Poor guy. He pulled it together, though, and managed to wait patiently for the treats.

When he saw the his-n-hers baskets on the dining room table he ran over to one, his face bright with happiness, and said, "This is just what I thought! I thought about what the surprise would be and this is exactly it!" Then he and Lila gorged themselves on candy corn and apple cider, grinning drunkenly and begging for more tattoos on their skinny little arms.

Pwivacy

2009-10-06T16:43:00.003-04:00

Things have been so much better since the weekend.

I finally feel like my (pregnant) self again. I mean, I won't feel like myself myself until after I have the baby, but I feel so much better.

Our terrible day last week was Wednesday. On Thursday he developed a fever and a cough, which continued through Friday. My eye began to heal on Saturday (YAY!) and we were all on the road to recovery.

Mike and I saw David Sedaris speak and read Saturday night, while friends kept the kids. Overnight. Mike and I slept until noon on Sunday. I'm grinning as I write this. Sleeping until noon - it's the rarest treat these days, and just the thing I needed. I was able to put in my contacts again (YAY!) and things are just. So. Much. Better.

One thing that I learned...I need to be more proactive about having a distraction at the ready. Since the Very Bad Day I have spent some time each evening preparing a small craft for the next day, to be used when the kids need a positive diversion. Something to be doled out when they're at the brink of misbehavior...something to head them off at the pass. I've been drawing simple worksheets, mazes, coloring sheets. On Sunday while Lila was napping Gage painted and strung a pasta necklace (although he paused in his work at one point to say: "Mama? Painting noodles is not really my idea of fun"). Not really my idea of fun!? Where does he get this stuff!?

Another day I cut out black shapes - triangles, circles, big goofy grins - and outlined a pumpkin on another sheet of paper. The kids had a blast coloring their pumpkins and then gluing the shapes into faces. Five minutes of prep the night before = a peaceful fifteen-minute project the next day. I'll take it.

I know it won't avoid all problems, but it feels good to have a project at the ready...an ace up my sleeve.

In case you're curious, as of last night Gage got all of his toys back.

Lila has been using the potty almost flawlessly for several months now...we'll have a couple of weeks where she has not a single accident but then one day she'll suddenly have, like, three accidents in one day. After a good run I think, "Is this it? Is she really trained?" and then No, No she's not. But overall she's doing great.

Recently she's taken to announcing: "I need to go potty! I want to use the *big* potty, in the baffwoom." She starts to head upstairs, turns to look at me and says primly, "I need pwivacy." She disappears up the stairs and I hear the door close firmly.

Of course I have to invade her privacy moments later when I hear the toilet flush, because while she can get her pants down, pee, and flush she cannot pull her pants up, wipe, or stop flushing.

She'd stand there flushing the toilet all night if you'd let her.

The Bad

2009-10-01T00:31:00.004-04:00

Now that it's dark, and quiet, and everyone else is sleeping I can finally reflect on the day with less anxiety. And what a day it's been. Two days, actually. All yesterday and all today I've had a raging eye infection, which is bad enough on its own but worse because I'm not used to wearing my glasses. Of course I can't wear my contacts with a swollen and red eye, so I have to rely on my glasses, which affect me physically (dizzy, headache, nausea) as well as psychologically (vulnerable, volatile, crabby).

I have not been my best self the past two days. The eye, the big, awkward belly, the constant heartburn. It's just not a good combination. I know that my bad mood has significantly contributed to Gage's misbehavior these past two days but I'm still shocked and embarrassed by how he's been acting.

Gage bit Lila yesterday. And Gage bit Lila today.

Gage is not a biter. He's just over four years old and we've never had a problem with aggression of this sort.

But the more I think about my own actions the past two days the more I feel responsible for his.

Today in the car. Late, on the way to the doctor for my eye. Couldn't find my health card, hence the delay. My fault. Rushing Gage, sternly chiding him in the car, "Buckle yourself! Hurry up!" This is a new challenge for him, and it's not easy. He has little hands, and the buckle is stiff and non-compliant. He strains to click the buckle into place and misses. "Hurry!" I nearly shout.

Who is this talking?

Promising donuts for a successful trip to the doctor. The kids are golden. They sit patiently and quietly. We run out of time and have to go straight to Gage's preschool. No donuts. I'm never unreliable, except today I am. They notice.

But he bit her, and that's a problem. Yesterday he got scolded, and got a time-out in his room. He seemed honestly sorry...he did his time, he apologized sincerely. And then...today. The same thing. Lesson? Not learned.

I lost it. And he lost it. And Lila lost it. I sent Gage to his room, seriously enraged. I held and soothed Lila, and when she was calm I went to Gage's room with a big box and started packing up his toys. He was freaking out, but I kept on...packing up his toy kitchen, his train set, his cars. I told him he could have them back in a week if he showed me that he could control his temper.

I went back downstairs to Lila and cried. And cried.

Gage, when released from time-out, shakily told me that it was hard for him to control his temper. I nodded my head and said "I know. It's hard for Mommies and Daddies, too." Obviously. But biting? It's not okay.

And now, six hours later, snippets of the evening are running through my mind, making me tear up all over again.

Lila, patting my cheek with the whole of her hand, saying "Mama, you feel better? No more tears? You not feelin' angry anymore?"

Gage, face damp, asking, "Please don't talk about my toys. I'm just going to keep crying."

Mike, looking at me with patient sympathy. Knowing I'm not me.

And all the while I literally can't see straight. My world is rounded and slanted and jerky...my vision is like a bad movie filmed with a hand-held camera. Everything is wrong. Everything is just a little bit off. And it's been two full days.

"I have nothing left to give," I whispered to Mike at one point tonight, when Gage and I had finally stopped crying.

This is not me. I don't like this at all.

After bedtime I went to Lila's room, pulled her blanket up around her shoulders, watched the regular rise and fall of her chest, listened to the little sighing sounds she makes in her sleep.

I went to Gage's room, and climbed into bed with him. He didn't wake, but snuggled against me. He spooned his back into me, and then shifted so his furry head was pressing against my belly. Josie responded by swiping at the round top of his head with a hand or a foot, pressing her body against his, with me in between. When you're pregnant you're never alone.

As I nestled in Gage's bed with him the tears started up again.

He's getting to be so big now. He's my tiny little baby.

I want him to do the right thing. You expect too much.

His mistakes are my mistakes.

He needs to make mistakes.

I kiss his forehead and whisper "I love you. I love you so much."

He sighs in his sleep and murmurs back, "I love you too."

We all make mistakes.

We're none of us perfect.

But I know now. We're all going to be okay.

Preschool

2009-09-25T13:56:00.004-04:00

I'm 32 weeks & 5 days along now, only 7 weeks to go. :) I will have OB appointments every two weeks now, and after two of those I will go once a week. I've gained 15 pounds and overall I'm feeling well.

One of the strangest things about pregnancy is how different you can feel from day to day. And when you have a bad day (exhausted, huge, sore, cranky) you feel like that's how it's going to be from here on out, until the baby's born, and how on earth are you going to survive another two months of this!? But then the next day you'll feel great - lots of energy, and a look in the mirror will tell you the opposite of what you thought yesterday...why, your belly is positively petite! It's so weird...but you totally go back and forth, more toward the end of pregnancy, with the good days and bad days. And I know, the pictures appear to show a big, round belly, but I swear sometimes I gaze lovingly at my midsection and can't get over how compact it is. So what if my mind is playing tricks on me? It feels good.

I feel the baby moving all the time now. She is very active, as were Gage and Lila. I love to sit back on the couch in the late evenings and watch my belly undulate, watch lumps rise and fall, slide. It's amazing. Once in a while she moves so forcefully that I feel as though I'm thrown off-balance. Not that my balance is all that great to begin with these days....

Gage began preschool a week and a half ago. I was dreading the start...I really was. I was anxious and sad that my baby was going to be away from me, was going to be in a classroom where I could not watch over him, could not make sure that he's treated the way I need him to be treated. Luckily the transition has been much easier than I feared. He's enjoying preschool and we have no problems during drop-off. He marches right into his little classroom and the first thing he does, every day, is go to the "Helping Hands" wall to see what his job will be for the afternoon. His favorite so far: Bell Ringer. I understand. Who doesn't love to ring a bell?

Lila has been the surprise problem with drop-off. I had no idea that she would be as affected as she is, but every day she cries after we leave Gage's school. Every day she wails on the drive home, "I miss my Gagey! I miss my big brudder!" Earlier this week she told me that if she says "...I miss my Gager, I need my Gager he will come home to me." Poor little one.

Another preschool surprise is that I am enjoying the free time it provides to me. I was so nervous about the thought of Gage being gone that I really didn't stop to think about what my afternoons (Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday from 12:30 until 3:00) would be like. I guess I imagined myself biting my nails while watching the clock. This is what's it's been like: We get home, I tuck Lila in for a nap. Two hours of silence (although I do watch the clock more than strictly necessary). I wake Lila up and we go to pick up Gage. It's crazy what those two hours of solitude have done for my well-being. It's been pleasant to have that time to myself...although short-lived, since Josie will be here before we know it.

Gage is already showing off his new knowledge...he reminds Mike to "Turn off the lights when you leave a room. It's good for the enbironment." And yesterday he rattled off the days of the week to me with no hesitation. He's picked up some of the Pledge of Allegiance and two nursery rhymes: Twinkle, Twinkle and Hey Diddle, Diddle.

I have to laugh when he recites Hey Diddle, Diddle because (despite the many times I attempted to correct him) he always says:

Hey Diddle, Diddle
The cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed with excitement
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

I love that - laughed with excitement. And then he chuckles in a grown-up way and explains: "It's funny 'cause dishes can't run."

Whereas cows can *totally* jump over the moon.

I recently picked up a crafty toy for the kids, called "Bendaroos." It's a collection of colored sticks...like stiff string coated in wax...that the kids can make into jewelry or shapes or whatever. They spotted the Bendaroos in a store the other day and Gage recognized them from a commercial. He asked if we could buy it and I said No, but a salesman heard me and said "We have some of those in clearance - the boxes were crushed a little, but the toys are all there." Crushed boxes? I'm there! So we bought them after all, and the kids are having a blast using them. What's funny is that Gage calls them "Fingaroos" and Lila calls them "Kangaroos" and I stubbornly refer to them by their given name. It's like "Who's on First" when they want to get out the Bendaroos.

Gage has entered a new stage of reliability recently...it's mature and disarming. For his whole life thus far when he's insisted on something that doesn't sound right I can correct him, with almost 100% accuracy. Lately he's been saying things that don't sound right and when I go to correct him he quietly and politely insists that he's right. And then he is right.

Case in point: yesterday afternoon Lila wanted to watch "Charlie and Lola" (a Disney cartoon, a favorite in our house). She pushed Play on the DVD player (who knew she could do *that*?) and the theme music began to play.

Gage: "It's not on. Lila wants to watch Charlie and Lola and it's not on."
Me (in the dining room, where I can hear the TV but not see it): "It's on. I can hear it."
Gage (not paying any attention to the TV): "No, it's not on."
Me: "Gage, I can hear it."
Gage: "But it's not on."
Me: "I want you to come look at the TV so that you can see it's on."
Gage: "All right, but I want you to come too, so you can see that it's not."
Me (slightly put out by this, and irritated at having to stand up for nothing [yesterday was a Bad Day and I felt awful]): "Fine."

We meet in front of the TV. There's a moment of silence.

Me: "Oh. It's not on."

The DVD player was on, the speakers were on. The TV...was not.

Me: "You were right."

Gage: Does not feel the need to rub it in - does not even say 'I told you so.' Gage is a good kid. And maybe I ought to give him the benefit of the doubt once in a while.

He's been right an awful lot lately. And patient...and kind.

There's got to be a lesson in there somewhere.

Next Time I Won't Sing With You

2009-08-24T16:45:00.003-04:00

I had another OB appointment last week, as well as the Glucose test, which is done between 26 & 28 weeks. The Glucose test involves drinking a very sugary orange-flavored liquid and waiting around for an hour, after which there is a bloodtest. The test measures how you metabolize the sugar, to check whether you're in danger of gestational diabetes. I passed the test with flying colors. Good news for this candy-loving mama. (I actually talked Mike into buying for me a case of candy cigarettes two weeks ago. That's 24 packs. They're delicious.)

I am now 28 weeks along, and have gained another 4 pounds, bringing my total weight gain up to 10 pounds so far. With all three pregnancies I didn't gain at all until after 20 weeks, and then I gained a normal amount (about 35 pounds) in the last half of the pregnancy. Looks like this time will be the same way. It's just weird to look at my big, big belly and think I've only gained 10 pounds. (...and to think that there's more to come.)

My weekly dinner of homemade buffalo chicken wings (fried, of course) will surely help the weight pack on. It's for you, baby. For you.

Oh, and the lemon angelfood cake with lemon glaze, pictured here atop my belly shelf, which Mike never ceases to find amusing:

The kids are well. Lila has been making us all laugh with her own version of the ABC song. She does the ABCs themselves pretty well, only missing a couple of letters here and there. At the end she sings:

Now I know my ABCs.
Next time I won't sing with you.

Cracks us up every time.

Gage is getting ready to start preschool in three weeks. (Mama is certainly NOT ready to have her little boy start preschool in three weeks.) He's excited about it, about carrying a bookbag and writing his name and snacktime. I know it's a good school and an essential part of growing up, but I want to keep my little boy home with me for longer.

Just...longer.

Our garden is giving us lots of deeply red tomatoes, lots of leafy, aromatic basil. We've been eating some combination of the two mostly every day - this is the best part about August, I think. Last week I made a tomato-basil side with garlic and black pepper, all layered over fresh mozzarella with a crumbly butter-rich tart base. It was fantastic, a sure repeat dish.

And, because I'm a dork, I took a picture of it. I often take pictures of food. I like to capture my creations on film, which is why my computer is loaded with pictures of my kids and pictures of dinner.

I'll upload that one this evening so you can see it, too.

In the meantime, here are the kids during our recent week-long beach vacation. I have since cut Gage's hair a bit, sigh.

Some Random

2009-07-23T15:28:00.004-04:00

- I went to the OB today and I finally gained some weight! Six pounds in the last month...bringing my total weight gain so far to six pounds. I'm almost 24 weeks along now, so I'm happy to be gaining. I was getting sick every day during months three and four, and only in the last three weeks or so has that stopped. I feel stronger and more energetic lately, too.

- We are fairly certain that we will name the baby Josephine. When I told the kids this I said "I think that I'll call her Josie. What about you?" Gage piped up immediately: "Josephine Jellybean!" So she already has a couple of nicknames, all darling. She is measuring right on, as is my belly.

- Last night Mike took the kids to Wawa after Parkettes, as he often does. Gage picked out a treat for me, a package of Twinkies. I was surprised that Mike didn't steer him toward something else, because Twinkies? Not really my kind of snack. So suffice it to say they were still in their package today. Gage asked me why I didn't eat them and I said, "Oh, I'm not hungry. How about you and Lila each eat one?" He agreed, and I handed them out. (This marks their first packaged cake experience.)

They each took one bite and put their Twinkies down. Lila swallowed her bite and went about her business, leaving her Twinkie on the table. Gage chewed his bite, made a horrible face, and ran to the trash to spit it out. I heard him call from the kitchen: "I found that cake to be much too sweet!" I laughed and happily threw away the Twinkies. They tried them - it's more than fine with me if they don't like them.

- Gage turns four tomorrow. Four! He is excited for his birthday, but in his ever-empathetic way he made a card and wrapped a present for me so that I would not be left out of the festivities. He is storing both card and gift safely in his desk until his big day.

Here he is posing with his pizza, one that he made entirely with his own hands - from patting the dough into a big round to putting on the sauce and toppings. He and Lila love to help in the kitchen and they love to eat what they create. Gage was very proud of himself for this pizza, as was I.

- Lila is still convinced that she has a baby in her belly, and she has named it Judith. (Judith is Lila's new cousin's name - my oldest sister Sarah gave birth to her third child just over a month ago.) When you ask Lila about her baby she points very specifically to her bellybutton and says "See?"

Lately 'Baby Judith' has been apparently active...Lila will put her hand on her belly and say "Baby Judif kickin'!" It's too funny - a perfect imitation of her mommy.

Two Quick Laughs

2009-07-15T15:16:00.002-04:00

Since Gage was a baby we've played the wildly popular 'Stinky Feet Game.' What's involved: Sniffing one of the kids' feet, making a face and saying, "Ooh, those are some stinky feet. What were you walking in?" The kids love it - they offer up the other foot and enthusiastically say "This one's even stinkier!"

Lila was flailing on the couch the other day - I was sitting, she was tumbling over me - and I caught one of her feet in my hand. I sniffed it, gave the obligatory snort of disgust and said "Ooh, those are some stinky feet!" Lila pulled away, glared at me and said with careful enunciation:

"My feet are clean and soft. Actually, they're fine."

She turned away with an indignant huff.

Well!

I guess she told me!

Yesterday I was pushing Gage on the swingset; on the one meant for two kids...the swing that has handles and a place to put his feet, and the kids sit back-to-back. I was pushing him pretty high and he slipped his feet off the bar. I stopped the swing quickly and asked if he was all right.

Gage: "Yeah. Can you push me again?"
Me: "I thought you were going to fall."
Gage: "Nope. I like to do that."

So I push him again and again he slips his feet off the bar. After the third time I said, "That makes me so nervous. Why are you doing that?"

And I swear this is exactly how he responded.

He looked at me slyly and grinned. "I like to live on the edge."

Hi, Baby.

2009-07-14T14:33:00.003-04:00

You're an awesome chick already.

Manners Police

2009-07-09T21:53:00.002-04:00

For a long time now Gage has had high standards for manners - for himself as well as for others. It cracks me up that such a little kid wants things so orderly, but that's how he's always been. I have a video of Gage at maybe 18 months putting his milk cup on a coaster on the coffee table, turning to leave, turning back and pushing the cup to exactly the middle of the coaster. Only when it was perfect was he satisfied.

Tonight he couldn't sleep and he heard me puttering around in the kitchen, making a blueberry coffee cake. He asked to come help me and it was one of those days when the right thing to do is say Yes. So he helped me sprinkle blueberries on the top of the cake, then cinnamon and sugar. After we put the cake in the oven we sat on the couch to share the last 3/4 cup of blueberries between us.

Gage likes the sweet ones, and I like the sour ones. We spent a good ten minutes snuggled together on the couch...he'd take a little bite of each blueberry. "Sweet" ones were popped into Gage's mouth and he poked the "Sour" ones into my mouth. While he was busily sorting through them I brushed his bangs away from his eyes, told him that I miss seeing his eyes because his hair is getting so long.

"I like it long," he said. "Sour." I accepted the blueberry from him.
"I know you do now," I said. "But you might change your mind."
"No I won't," he murmured in a sing-song voice. He took another little rabbit bite from a berry. "Sweet," he smiled. "I'm really good at this," he observed unselfconsciously. The next one was sour. He watched me eat it, and the Manners Police descended.

"Um, excuse me," Gage said.
"Yes?"
"You were chewing that with your mouth open a little bit. I could see a peek of it."
"Oh, goodness," I said. "I'm sorry for my bad manners."
"It's all right," Gage smiled supportively. "Everybody makes mistakes." He popped another blueberry into my mouth. He kept his eyes on me and pressed his own lips together, silently reminding me how to chew. I chewed obviously and with tight lips. "Good," he smiled. "Now you're doing a great job."

It makes me laugh that he's so parental at these moments. We are almost always happily secure in our roles. He and Lila know they're the children, and Mike and I know we're the parents. There's no doubt about that. But Gage won't hesitate to turn a teaching moment around in your face if you seem to need it.

He's such a sweet kid, and so empathetic. But if you dare to put your feet on the table in my house be prepared for a stern talking-to from my nearly-four-year-old.

And talk with your mouth full if you want. But do it at your own risk.

Homemade Perfume

2009-04-29T22:57:00.003-04:00

Gage doesn't nap anymore, and hasn't for at least a year. I wish he would, but he just doesn't require much sleep and he never has. Even at Lila's age he was a 12-hour a day guy; 11 hours at night and a 1-hour nap. These days he sleeps for 10-11 hours at night and that's all. Some days he seems to really need the nap, and some days he falls asleep in the car. But the most I can get out of him is the rare and often-interrupted 'rest.' When he 'rests' he plays by himself, quietly, in his room while Lila naps and I decompress by myself. Every five minutes or so he pops his head out of his bedroom, calling "Can I come down now?" That's my cue to call back "NO!"

Anyway. And as a point of interest: Lila sleeps for about 15 hours a day. No joke. 13 hours at night and a regular 2-hour nap every afternoon. She takes after her Mama that way.

So a few days ago Gage was 'resting' in his room and I was resting on the couch. He was quiet for several minutes (which, in retrospect, should have been my first clue). The next time he appeared at the top of the stairs, asking to come down, I turned to tell him "No" and saw that he was holding a plastic bowl with both hands.

"Um. What's that?" I asked. "I made you a gift," Gage said happily. He carefully carried the bowl down the stairs to me and presented it with a big smile. "It's perfume. Doesn't it smell wonderful?"

I peered into the bowl...it was significantly full of murky-looking colorless water, with a few bubbles popping on the surface. "Wow," I said. I sniffed. The sickeningly sweet, thick soapy smell turned my stomach - no woman in her first trimester should be made to smell homemde perfume.

"Wow," I repeated. I forced a smile and nodded my head. "Wonderful."

"It's a gift," Gage said again. He held the bowl closer to me. I pulled back an equal distance, then made myself accept the bowl with what I can only hope was a gracious expression (what part of clenched teeth and tearing eyes doesn't indicate gratuity?).

"Thanks," I said. As soon as he was distracted I went upstairs to see what he'd gotten into. Apparently my 'gift' was comprised mostly of home fragrance oil (sans reeds), foaming hand soap and water, with approximately 15 damp paper bathroom cups somehow having been involved.

Now. I love homemade gifts as much as the next person, especially gifts from my kid. But I think I need to draw the line at perfume. Maybe perfume is just something you ought to leave to the professionals. After a long and gentle conversation Gage reluctantly agreed.

Lila is on day three of a particularly independent streak. She has been in a terrible mood, and much more difficult than usual. I love her to bits, but she's been working my nerves like you wouldn't believe. She's usually pretty easy-going, which makes the recent naughtiness that much more surprising. But...naughty as she is, she still manages to be as cute as a darn button.

This evening I was driving home with the kids in the car. We'd gone to the health food store (at Gage's request. This is what he said: "I want to go to that store. The one where we sometimes go that's not Wegmans. With the peanut things. But not Christmas." After a moment of confusion and several stores mentioned: "Do you mean Target?" "No." I said, "The health food store!" "Yes!" But I still don't get the 'But not Christmas' part of it.) and then I had a couple of errands to do. Five minutes from home Lila started screaming. Like, just out of boredom. But that drives me nuts, so I told her to stop.

Me: "Lila, that's too loud. Please lower your voice."
Lila: (screams)
Me: "Lila, stop screaming or you will go right to bed when we get home."
Lila: (screaming) "NO!" A pause while she takes a breath, preparing to scream again. "I NOT!"
Me: (stunned silence, trying not to laugh) "Oh yes you will..." (weakly) "Young lady."

I gathered myself and delivered the time-out, and she apologized very sweetly, but five minutes later she kicked me while I was putting her pajamas on and she went right back to bed, this time for the night.

I feel more prepared with Lila than I did with Gage - naturally, I guess. When Gage went through phases at this age (like this naughty phase Lila's going through) I always thought, "Oh, great. We had such a good thing going, and now this. Now this is what I have to deal with for the rest of his childhood." We'd battle constantly - he fighting for his naughty independence and me fighting to maintain the upper hand and, of course, a few days later everything would even out and he'd be back to his sweet self. Armed with this knowledge, Lila's phases, while still trying, don't force that same cloud of gloom to hang over me.

Nowadays I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I just need to keep clawing my way toward it.

Money, Money, Money

2009-04-27T16:37:00.003-04:00

My two have been mischevious the past week or so, for sure. They've had Spring Fever, I think, and until this weekend didn't have much of a chance to get their energy out outside.

Gage has become very adept at slyly mooching money off my dad. Pop-pop has been giving Gage 'pay' when Gage helps him with a chore. At first this meant something substantial, like Gage cleaning up after a messy project or pulling weeds from the garden. Gage receives a dollar as his pay, and this thrills him. Sometimes we go to the local old-schooly drug store, where they have the best selection of candy, and Gage gets to choose something right away. I don't mind this one bit, because he is learning so much through these transfers...what he can afford for a dollar, how to wait in line and receive change, all of it.

Plus he is SO careful to get something for Lila as well as for himself. The first time he spent his pay it was around Halloween and he had his eye on a Reese's Peanut Butter Jack O'Lantern. I told him that was fine, he could buy it. It was $.75. He asked if he could buy two and I said no, he couldn't afford it. He frowned for only a moment, put the Jack O'Lantern back and picked out a regular 2-pack of Peanut Butter Cups. "How about this?" he asked. "Yes," I said, "You can afford that."

"That's what I want, then. One for me, one for Yi-yah."

I don't need to tell you that my heart nearly broke. He has always been careful to have enough candy to share with his beloved baby sister, and I never fail to warm at his generous spirit.

Anyway, back to the story. So lately Gage has been getting away with doing less and less work yet still expecting - and receiving - pay. He'll ask Grandma if he can help her make dinner. She'll say "Sure" and hand him a pile of mushrooms to drop in a soup pot. Gage will happily comply and cheerfully crow, "Now I get pay!"

Or he'll hand my dad a screwdriver when he's working in the garage and practically leave his hand outstretched, ready to receive his dollar. And my dad never fails to deliver.

We save most of the dollars (he gets maybe 2 a week) but the odd trip to the candy store and the carefully folded bill in his tiny pocket is enough to keep Gage going.

All this learning about money is great, and Lila has been picking up on it, too. She doesn't earn pay yet (you have to be three to make wages in this family - we don't want to risk any child labor issues by hiring a one- or two-year-old) but she does get quarters from Pop-pop, which she dutifully drops in her owl-shaped piggy bank.

A week ago Mike was washing my car for me, with the kids' help, while I was away for the afternoon. We bought a new 2008 Mazda 5 in February, our first-ever new car. I love it and I'm happy as can be - it's a sweet ride. It came with all sorts of features that I wouldn't have requested had they not been standard, but I'm certainly happy to have them. One such feature is an in-dash 6-CD changer.

While Mike was scrubbing the tires that afternoon Gage asked to climb into the car. Mike didn't see why not, and opened up the door. Gage and Lila both scrambled inside and pretended to drive for no more than a minute before Mike peeked in at them. What he saw was Lila happily poking quarter after quarter into said brand new in-dash 6-CD changer.

Mike shouted and delivered a time-out and panicked and worried and spent hours taking the CD changer out of the dashboard and fishing all the quarters out (about a dozen total). Thankfully he was able to restore it to its original beauty.

When asked about this transgression all Lila did was smile and say "Piggy bank!"

I have no idea where they get this fascination with money. No idea at all.

Incidentally, here I am with my arm around my money, a year and a half ago:

But I have no idea where they get it.

Thinking on Their Feet

2009-04-16T16:54:00.002-04:00

There are times when the kids don't know the word for something, so they make up a phrase that they figure best suits the definition. I love when they do it, because I totally still do the same thing. I remember one such instance that still makes me laugh...I couldn't think of the word 'antler' and sputtered out "Ear...horn...." instead.I was, like, 20 at the time. Everyone is at a loss for words sometimes, and I consider it a wonderful example of how imperfect we all are. ;)

So two days ago we were riding in the car and Gage was looking out the window. He spotted a yard that had a couple of pinwheels spinning in the breeze. He smiled and said, "Look! That house has two...(silence while he's thinking)...wind...propellers."

Wind propellers! What a great description!

During another car ride this week Lila was snuggling a stuffed puppy and barking softly, "Woof, woof." She was so happy when I said "I think I hear a doggie in the car!" that I couldn't help but carry on the joke.

Me: "I hope I hear a kitten soon."
Lila: "Meow!"
Me: "Oh, I did hear a kitten! I hope I hear a cow."
Lila: "Moo!"
Me: "Great! Now how about an owl?"
Lila: Silence. Scanning her brain for what noise an owl makes. Finally, taking on a deep parody-voice: "Hello, Lila!"

So...just so you know...that's what an owl says. It says "Heyyo, Yi-yah" in a comical toddler baritone.

We're entering Birthday Season. My kids, as well as almost all of their cousins, have birthdays between May and August. It will be a whirlwind of cake and presents, and Gage is very excited to begin partying. We made cookies on Tuesday that Gage insisted were "For Lila's Birthday party" although we have another five weeks to go. I'm so happy to have warm weather and good times to look forward to.

I'm feeling well. Surprisingly well, better than I did with either of the other two pregnancies. I am definitely larger than I was for those, but that comes with the territory. As soon as I have a recognizable 'bump' I'll be sure to post pics. In the meantime I'm craving fresh fruits and veggies, lots of avocado, and of course seltzer and milk.

Lila has decided that she also has a baby in her belly, and her baby's name will be 'Lila.' When I suggested that it might get confusing she changed her mind, choosing the name 'Baby' instead. Ahhh, the creativity my kids have when it comes to names. We have the afore-mentioned stuffed dog, who is named 'Puppy' and a stuffed duck named 'Ducky.'

My baby, on the other hand, they want to name 'Yellow Tree.' It was a compromise; Lila chose 'Yellow' and Gage (who, incidentally, was looking out the window at the time), chose 'Tree.'

I can see it now. "Meet my children: Gage, Lila and Yellow Tree."

And Another On the Way

2009-04-12T20:52:00.005-04:00

We're expecting again (!!!). I'm nine weeks pregnant and we're due in early / mid November. We're really excited. Nervous about how we'll handle three kids aged four and under, but excited.

Both Gage and Lila want a baby girl ('baby guh-whirl'). I think it's a boy. I have an appointment in a week and a half for my first ultrasound, and we'll be happy to see how big the baby is and watch the sweet swishing heartbeat.

Today Gage asked me how the baby's going to come out. He's asked me this a couple of times before, and I've gotten away with saying "My body will let me know when it's time. I'll call the doctor and he'll meet me at the hospital. The doctor will help me get the baby out." Short and sweet, right? Well, today he wanted more information. He said, "Will the doctor use a knife?" I had to get more specific. I had to say the V word.

Gage: "Where's your bagina?"
Me: "It's in my private area. Do you remember where that is?"
Gage, puzzled, points to his left bicep with a curious look on his face.
Me: "No. Um. No, that's not it."
Gage shrugs his shoulders, unconcerned. I don't know what's worse, that he considers his arm his most private body part, or that he thinks my baby will come out of my shoulder.

Either way...I see we have more work to do.

Who Likes Tomato Soup?

2009-01-14T22:43:00.005-05:00

Gage very politely insulted my cooking the other day.

I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I'm so pleased with how my kids eat. They're adventerous eaters; Lila does it naturally and Gage succumbs to unending, gentle prodding.

They treasure fruit above anything else, and vegetables are a close second. They eat heavily flavored foods like curried noodle soup and hummus. Favorite snacks include salt-and-pepper edamame and crackers with brie.

It's not always easy to make it through a meal, and I wish sometimes that they (especially Gage) would eat more per sitting, but they definitely eat very varied foods.

Usually willingly.

So two days ago I made a tomato-based soup with spicy sausage and green beans. Lila happily worked her way through the bowl while Gage took one tentative sip and sighed noisily. He sat back in his chair while the rest of us ate.

Me: "What's the matter, Gage?"
Gage: "Well, Mama."
- Long pause -
Gage: "Well, Mama. A lot of the time the food that you cook is really good. But sometimes...the food is just not so good."

I had to hide my face because I didn't want him to see me laughing. Tears actually ran down my face. The poor guy, trying to spare my feelings.

And me...it takes more than a dig at my tomato soup to get to me.

After the obligatory...Mike: "It could hurt a person's feelings to say that," and Me: "I work hard to make healthy foods for my family. There are going to be some things that you don't like. Nobody likes everything," we had...

Me: "But. Eat it anyway."

And he did. With the prodding.

He seems to have kind of gotten the message, though. Twice since then he's made it a point to compliment me. Yesterday at lunch and again today, during dinner. Both times he's said: "Mmm. Mommy, you're a good cook. This dinner is good."

So I guess we're getting somewhere. Slowly.

Nights have been much better. The promise of a morning popsicle has done wonders in getting Gage to sleep through the night. And I know, I know. A popsicle in the morning is not the best tool in the parenting belt o' tools. But sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. Besides, they're 15 calories a piece. I checked.

Every night when I tuck him in (and try to mimic Mike's 'tucking in' procedure, which involves making 'a Gage sandwich' with lettuce and tomato...which always fails to be exactly right and ends with me promising to 'send Daddy up in a minute') I say "Remember, what are you going to do tonight?" He cheerfully responds: "Stay in bed!"

We're at, like, an 80% success rate. Which is WAY better than 0%.

Lila and I went with Mike and Gage to Parkettes on Monday night. Gage is still in the Parent-and-Child class, although the teacher recently said that she believes he's ready for the Kindergym class, in which parents are not involved. I'm totally ready to switch him, but Mike, who really enjoys this special bonding time, is more reluctant.

We decided that we'd take Li for a try-out class, see how she likes it, and then bump Gage up to Kindergym for a couple of weeks before enrolling Li in the Parent-and-Child class. So Mike will still take them. He'll send Gage off with his teacher (big kid!) and then attend Lila's class with her.

So far, so good. Lila LOVED it. She had a blast in the gym, walking unsteadily on the balance beam (while Gage held her hand and walked confidently in front of her) and jumping into the foam pit, right into my arms. She even went for a ride on the rope swing with the teacher. This is a really cool thing - they have a rope set up over the foam blocks and they swing out and back, then out and let go to fall into the supreme softness. Gage can do it all by himself now, and did it three times on Monday.

I watched. With my very own eyes.

My kids.

They're growing up.

Sigh.

Ugh - pics

2009-01-06T15:11:00.000-05:00

I don't know why I'm having trouble loading pics here in any size but HUGE all of a sudden. I used to be able to resize pics fine. I'll keep working on it, but bear with me until I figure it out. Sorry the pics are huge and cut-off. Ugh.

Reflecting On My Newborn: Gage

2009-01-06T14:39:00.006-05:00

Gage William. Such a fantastically beautiful baby. See the fur on his shoulders? I loved that fur. He was born 9 days early, with (dare I say it?) an easy labor and delivery. He had the most gorgeous, huge bluish-gray eyes that opened immediately after birth. His gaze was throat-catching...his eyes sharp and wise.

Gage was a typical baby for the first two weeks...I say typical in a kind of all-encompassing, all-accepting way. He was on the small side and had to be monitored to make sure that he was at a healthy weight. He was up many times every night. He was just what we expected from our first baby.

And then.

Ohhh, and then.

The colic started.

He cried from the time he was 14 days old until he was 3 months, 3 days. I know this because the day he cheered up...we ALL cheered up. The poor little guy had an awful go of it...he was constantly unhappy, constantly arching his little body to try to avoid what experts assume is comparable to full-time gas pains. (No one really knows what colic is, or how to fix it, just that it randomly strikes 1 out of every 4 or 5 babies.)

The pediatrician had no advice, other than to hang tough. Well-meaning strangers had plenty of advice, mostly made up of the (oh-so-helpful) comments like: "He sounds hungry." or "Uh-oh! Somebody needs a nap!" After weeks of politely dealing with these comments, weeks of near-constant screaming in my ear, weeks of little sleep at night and a child who napped maybe 10 minutes to one hour THE ENTIRE DAY, my response transformed from: "No, he's not hungry. He just ate," to a slightly wild-eyed: "Nope! This is just my son! This is how he is! This is our life!"

Ah, motherhood.

I remember thinking: "THIS. Is not what I imagined."

But throughout all of the screaming, all of the heartache of watching this intense little baby and not being able to help him, Gage and I were pals. We had each other and we needed each other. He didn't scream any less for me than he did for anyone else, but MAN did we have a deep connection. We had such a palpable bond in those early days...I sensed from him that he was unhappy but not angry. He needed to cry but he didn't want to have to. And he seemed really grateful that I still loved him through all of it.

The one time that Gage was quiet was when we'd bathe together, so we bathed together often. The warm water soothed him and he'd relax on my chest. He'd snuggle into me, into my neck, and I welcomed the softness of his body, the compliance of his tranquil little form. The bath was an escape for us both and is one of my strongest memories of baby Gage.

You get what you get, and you do right by your kid. You have to. You don't have a choice: You're the mama.

When the colic dissipated he turned into his real self...and I recognized him immediately.

I remember thinking: "THIS. Is what I imagined."

And our adventure began for real.

Popsicles, Or-nages and a Shakin' Dump Truck

2008-12-19T23:33:00.007-05:00

So Gage has been getting up pretty frequently in the middle of the night lately. He wakes and comes into our room and tries to climb into bed with us. Sometimes he makes it without waking either of us up, and then he sleeps until morning. Other times I wake up and take him back to bed. Sometimes this happens four times a night.

Two nights ago I talked up a prize for staying in his bed all night. He said he thought his prize should be a popsicle, and I said that was fine. He stayed in bed all night and got a popsicle with breakfast the next morning.

Now, yes. I've heard of the term 'bribery.' But this is way different. WAY different. This is a prize. See? That's one huge difference right there. Right?

Right.

So last night, thrilled with the success and drunk off 7 hours of straight sleep, I talked up the prize again. I promised him another popsicle the next morning if he stayed in bed all night. But our luck didn't hold and he was up twice. The second time he didn't wake me, and he stayed in our bed until morning.

So no popsicle.

It was the funniest thing today, because he tried about five different tactics to try to get a popsicle from me anyway. He knew the rules, but he was persistent. I guess he thought he'd trip me up.

Gage: "I'm ready for my popsicle."
Me: "Oh, you don't get one today, sweetie. You were up in the middle of the night. Remember? You came into bed with me and you weren't supposed to."
Gage: "No, I didn't do that."
Me: "You were there when I woke up, Gage. I remember."
Gage: (Looks guilty. Changes subject.)

Another time...
Gage: "I'm ready for my popsicle."
Me: "Maybe tomorrow. If you stay in bed tonight you'll have a popsicle tomorrow."
Gage: "No, not tomorrow. Today. I'd like my popsicle now. Please."
No dice.

Another time I over hear this one...
Gage: "Daddy. May I have a popsicle?"
Mike: "Oh, um...I don't know...?"
Me (shouting): "No!"

And my personal favorite...
Lila: "Milt. Milt! Peas!"
Me: "You'd like your milk, please?"
Gage: "No, Mommy. I'm pretty sure Yi-yah said 'Popsicle! Popsicle!'"
Me: "Nice try, my friend. But no."

Man, he's tricky!

But we're trying again tonight. We'll see what happens.

Lila pronounces the word Orange like this: Or-nage. It's hysterical. If it was up to her all she'd eat was fruit. And meat. Anyway, today I kept having her say Orange because it pleased me so.

Me: "Lila, say Orange."
Lila: "Or-nage."
Me: "What are you hungry for?"
Lila: "Or-nage."
Me (holding an orange): "What's this?"
Lila: (glaring at me)

Gage and Aunt Stephie had a classic moment on the phone yesterday. When Gage has calls (ahem) I put him on speakerphone so I can play interpreter if I need to.

Aunt Stephie: "Are you excited about Santa coming?"
Gage: (nods head)
Me: "Say 'Yes!' She can't hear you."
Gage: "Yes. She can't hear you?"
Aunt Stephie: (cracking up)

I had to make an urgent last-minute Christmas purchase online tonight, using two-day shipping. I'm not normally a two-day shipping kind of gal. I mean: (A) Who's in that big of a hurry? and (B) It's, like, fifteen extra dollars. But this little kid drove me to it.

All Gage has on his Christmas list is a "Shakin' Dump Truck." I have no idea what he means by this. Shakin' dump truck? Really? He's told me several times, and he even told Santa. Poor Santa was all, "And what else do you want? Can you think of something else?" ...to which Gage would shake his head, his eyes glowing in the ecstacy of someone finally meeting his hero, and smile sweetly.

I kept thinking, "He'll be so distracted on Christmas morning he won't miss this one thing."

But tonight he was telling me a story before bed and the story went like: "Once a powder time there was a little boy named Gage. Santa came and Gage opened his present. He got a shakin' dump truck!"

I caved. What can I say? I'm already denying him popsicles.

Turns out there exists such a thing as a Shakin' Dump Truck.

Turns out it can be here by Christmas Eve.

And, as it turns out...I'M the one in that big of a hurry.

Playing the Catch-Up (Part 1)

2008-12-16T16:25:00.008-05:00

Halloween.

Did I tell you that this year I allowed Gage to pick his own costume? It was entirely up to him. After going back and forth between two choices he settled, steadfast, on: Strawberry. (The other choice he batted around: Tomato.)

If you can believe it...Strawberry costumes are not all the rage (this year, anyway. I maintain that he is ahead of his time), and I could not find a single one for sale. Luckily it was a simple costume to make. Lila inherited her brother's Chicken suit, which is unbelievably adorable.

A couple of days after Halloween Gage said, "I'm ready to go Trick-or-Treating again!" A boy after my own heart, that one.

November was busy, with both Mike's and my birthdays, a trip to the beach and weekend guests with whom we had a fantastic time. The beach trip happened to be on an unbelievably cold weekend, but was still fun. Gage barely slept both nights and Lila pulled a Go-Go-Gadget Extender Arm move that turned a pleasant trip to Cracker Barrel into The Day My Salad Exploded To the Floor. You would not believe the mess that is possible from one 18-month-old and one half of a chef's salad. It was truly a remarkable thing. Ah, well. These things happen.

All in all, though, a fun trip. There's nothing like the (empty, empty) beach in the off-season.

'My Sleepin' Hat'

2008-10-23T21:40:00.009-04:00

During our slow and unenthusiastic switch from summer to winter clothes Gage came across his warm hat from last year. Here it is:

So he found it kind of randomly and he points at it and says: "Oh! My sleepin' hat!"

Me: "Um." (Thinking sleepin' hat? What?)
Gage: "I need that hat to sleep."
Me: "Oh. Sure."

I pulled it on his head. He went to sleep happily and promptly, and woke up in the morning with spiky hair and a sweaty scalp.

So I started calling it his "nightcap," and now he calls it that, too. Right after we put him to bed tonight I heard him walking around. I asked him what was wrong.

Gage: "I'm lookin' for my nightcap."
Me: "Oh. I'll get it."
Mike: "What does he need?"
Me: "His nightcap."
Mike: (fetches it from the couch.)

It's that much a 'thing' already. I wonder how long the nightcap will last. And I wonder, if I didn't have this blog, if I would remember the nightcap in ten years.

Gage has also started talking in these grown-up sentences. I remember reaching the 'he's talking in sentences' milestone, and being so excited. So proud. "He's talking in sentences now." Like: "Gage want milk." And then: "May I have a lolly, Mama?" Now, all of a sudden, it's: "Oh, Lila, you silly baby. You can't reach the juice because you're not standing up. That's the problem."

Really!? When did this happen? I guess this past week. But all of a sudden his speech contains inflection and terms of endearment and contractions. It's crazy. He's more like a miniature adult all the time. (But wait, when I think about that I'm like "Oh, right. He literally *is* more like a miniature adult all the time. Literally in the literal sense." Right. Of course. But also it's really, really true.)

"I'm hungry," he said on the way home from the eye doctor today. (My appointment, not his.) "What are we having for dinner?" (Really? What are we having for dinner? REALLY?)
Me: "Frittata and Broccoli."
Gage: "Oh. I have an idea! How about we have chicken nuggets?"
Me: "No, not tonight. Tonight we're having Frittata and Broccoli."
Gage: "Oh. I don't think I like Tata."
Me: (snickering about 'Tata.') "You don't know whether you like it or not, because you've never had it."
Gage: "I have an idea! How about we have macaroni and cheese?"
Me: "No, not tonight. But how about next week you can pick dinner one night? One night we'll let you decide, and we'll write it down and shop for the groceries and then we'll eat your dinner."
Gage: "Okay!"

Silence for several seconds.

Gage: (quietly) "I don't think I'll eat even one bite of Tata."
Mike: "Well, you can either eat a bite or go to bed."
Gage: "Okay, maybe I'll eat one bite of Tata."
Mike: "Great!"

He ate the whole piece without complaint (7 bites!). And after the first inquisitive bite he said "Hmm. This doesn't taste bad, it tastes good!" (Which is his new line about food. He says it about everything. But he pronounces 'tastes' like 'taste-ess.' "This taste-ess good!")

I am so, so happy to have a good eater. I can't even tell you. He doesn't eat *much* at a time, but he'll eat almost anything. Lila eats pretty much anything, too, and she likes spice more than Gage does. She can stand more black pepper, red pepper. Both of them love garlic. I definitely got lucky there.

Anyway. This past weekend we went on two fall outings: Country Junction on 209 to get lunch, Halloween decorations, pumpkins. And the Apple Pie Bakery at the Water Gap (by the light). (That's on a label on their pies. 'Come visit us. We're in The Water Gap. By the light.') They score you a piece of fresh-baked apple pie *plus* a hotdog for $1.49. It's ridiculous. And they have fresh local cider and doughnuts. It's heavenly. You should go. Here are some pictures:

And, just for kicks, here's last year:

Shots All Around

2008-10-16T23:11:00.003-04:00

Man, today was a busy, busy day.

We had flu shots all around, and Sam went to the vet. Wendy came to visit, which was wonderful, and of course I went to work (which, in this economy, is *trying* to say the least, LOL).

The kids were so funny with their shots...Gage cried only a tiny bit and then the nurse spoiled him by telling him how brave he was, and how he was her hero. He looked at her, all wide-eyed, and said "Reeeally?"

He kept complaining after the fact - all the way home he was saying "It still hurts. Really bad! It still huuurtsss." and I finally said, "We all had shots, Gage. I don't want to hear anything else about shots."

That's kind of a new thing. Like:

Gage: "I want a treat!"
Me: "No."
Gage: "But I want a--"
Me: "I said no."
Gage: "But I have to talk! Let me talk!"
Me: "Sure. Go ahead. As long as it's not about treats."
Gage: (silence)

Or...

Gage: "I want to watch a bideo!" (That's 3-yr-old speak for 'video')
Me: "Not right now."
Gage: "Can I talk? As long as it's not about bideos?"
Me: "Yes. As long as it's not about videos."
Gage: (silence)

Hmm...maybe he wants to watch his favorite bideo, 'Tractor Bemptures' (Tractor Adventures)

Speaking of funny pronunciations, Lila's funniest word right now is Lolly. She says it deeply, throatily, "Yah-yee!" She cracks me up. She gets so excited about Lollies. And I have to tell you...I'm not all crazy about Organic stuff, but I found these Organic lollies at Wegs that are made with fruit juice...they are SO GOOD. I hate finding something this delicious, because all I hear are cash register noises in my head. But yes, they're that good.

Other new words are 'Blankie,' 'Dolly,' and 'Grandma.'

Then the Vet. We were there for TWO HOURS. Our appointment was at 6:30. We were there until 8:30. It. Was. Crazy. Thank goodness Gage was well-behaved - it was just me & him, and Sam, of course. There was a darling little litter of kittens up for adoption...they were adorable. Gage stood and looked at them for literally an hour. I played Pac-Man on my iPod. Sam drooled and panted, whining occassionally. Good times. I wrote out a check for $214 to the Vet. When I came home Mike said "What did all that money go toward?" and all I could do was shrug my shoulders and point helplessly at the 96-pound beast. Sam responded by shedding excessively, licking his chops and laying down right under my feet, right where I needed to be.

Mike and I just ate an entire stick of butter between the two of us. Yep. In twenty minutes. We steamed artichokes and dipped them in delicious garlic-lemon butter until the butter existed no more. I think I could float, right now, if I so desired. I'm that full of delicious fatty fat.

All in all, a good day. I hope yours was good, too.

Gage & Lila

2008-10-06T23:50:00.001-04:00

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Updatey Goodness

2008-10-06T21:03:00.003-04:00

So I had a problem for most of the summer. It sucked. I was really super exhausted and crabby and not at all myself. Turns out I was anemic, had a Vitamin B deficiency and about a thousand (as Gage would say) or five and a million (as cousin Jackson would say) allergies to ridiculous things. I'd tell you what they are, but then you'd have ammunition to use against me. My lips are sealed. Also I now have weekly shots and an EpiPen. So just try and mess with me, I'll stab you with epinepherine. For realz. And then I'll sneeze on you, or break out in hives. That's just how I roll.

Ahh, the kids. Gage (3 yrs, 3 mos) and I are just coming off two weeks' worth of colds. He is very interested in the library lately, and we go at least once a week. He wants to be a strawberry for Halloween. Both kids go with me to the allergist to get my shots every week and Gage always, *always* says "Mommy, I want you to be brave. Don't say 'ouch.' Okay? Mommy? Okay, you'll be brave?" And I always am. Even the nurse says so.

Lila (16 mos) is saying probably thirty words, among them: Hi, Yeah, Uh-huh, Uh-uh, Mama, Dada, Gage, Lila, Up, Down, Thank You, Lolly, Cracker, Chicken, Oh Boy and Geez. She knows her mind and has quite a little temper. She usually sleeps from 8 PM until 9 AM which, let me assure you, *works* for me. She will probably be a chicken for Halloween; Gage was a chicken his second year and I think the costume will fit Li. I'd love to use it again - it's super cute.

Recent activities include...Gage: Quietly working on his manipulation skills, observing our reactions, making mental notes. Lila: Scooting backward down stairs. Gage: Perfecting the art of *accidentally* knocking Lila over, and then exclaiming "Oops!" in a really apologetic way. Lila: Somersaults.

Next on the horizon for me: Weaning. Sigh.

He's Three

2008-07-25T23:24:00.004-04:00

Birthday Interview with Gage:

Mommy: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Gage: A penguin.
Mommy: What's your favorite food?
Gage: Meatballs.
Mommy: What's your favorite thing about Daddy?
Gage: I like when he holds me up. (Gage holds onto a stick and we lift him off the ground so his feet are like a foot in the air)
Mommy: What's your favorite thing about Lila?
Gage: I like when he tickles me. (Yes, he. What?)
Mommy: What's your favorite thing about Mommy?
Gage: I like when you holds me up on the bar.
Mommy: Who's your favorite friend?
Gage: Daniel. (cousin)
Mommy: What's your favorite treat?
Gage: I like lollipops.
Mommy: Where's your favorite place to go?
Gage: Wegmans. I like Wegmans. (Who doesn't!?)
Daddy: What do you think Mommy and Daddy do after you go to bed?
Gage: Come and check on me. (Because I'm King Of The World!)
Mommy: What's your favorite thing to drink?
Gage: Hot chocolate.
Mommy: What does Daddy do at work?
Gage: Work.
Daddy: What does Mommy do at work?
Gage: I don't know. I guess she works.
Mommy: What makes you happy?
Gage: When you sing a song. Cows that Type. (a book)
Mommy: What makes you sad?
Gage: Nothing. (Awww! But so not true.)
Mommy: If you could choose a present what would it be?
Gage: Doggies. I like doggies.

Well there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Gage in a nutshell. (And Mike was like, "Maybe we should get him a dog." Um, no. Remember Sam? The 90-lb shedding machine? We're good.)

Gage was sitting in my lap in the living room last week and he said: "Mommy, watch this." I looked at him and he screwed his face up, looked at the ceiling and tensed his body. I didn't understand what he was going for and I said, "Is it that you're making a funny face?" He said: "No, watch." He looked again up at the ceiling and tensed up harder. After a few seconds he relaxed, sighed and said "It's not working." I looked up where he was looking - the lights in the ceiling fan. "What's not working?"
"I can't turn out the lights."
"What, with your mind? You're trying to turn the lights out with your mind?"
"Yeah. But it's not working."
"Well, don't feel bad. Most people...can't...turn lights out...with their minds." Another statement I never thought I'd have to say.
Gage, sighing sadly: "I can't close doors, either."

Aw, kid.

Once yesterday and twice today Gage and I have made eye contact and shared such a deep, steady, soul-swapping too-long gaze that all I can think about is how he's all the time drawing away from me. That sounds depressing, and I don't mean it depressing. But my relationship with him, with Lila, is so intimate right now, by choice as well as by necessity. I truly know everything that goes on in their lives. Not a thing happens that I don't have my hands in. I love it, but I know now that it won't last.

I'm unnerved by this look, by how Gage looks at me - this obviously sensitive kid - I adore it and wouldn't trade it for anything, but it's also a little unnerving. It seems almost as though he's willfully baring his soul. It seems as though he knows that this period of whole, pure connectivity is limited. It seems as though he's being generous with the time we have left, the remaining time in this stage.

It reminds me of when I was young, maybe six or seven, and I'd pretend to fall asleep in the car five or ten minutes away from home so that one of my parents would carry me into the house. I remember thinking that they probably wouldn't mind holding me in their arms again, their baby, feeling the full weight of me. It would be okay under the guise of sleep - I wasn't too big to be carried if I was unconscious, after all. It was a safe way for all of us to pretend that I was so dependent again. Plus I got to feel a heartbeat against my ear - a feeling I didn't recapture until I was in my twenties, falling asleep on Mike's chest.

Soon Gage will realize that he *doesn't* have to say everything he's thinking of outloud. He *doesn't* have to tell me about his wants, his fears, his embarrassments. He doesn't have to ask me to clarify something that he doesn't understand (he could even, maybe, ask someone else).

It seems as though he realized this before I did, because I didn't think about it at all until he started giving me these looks. Maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe the looks are a coincidence. Maybe he's thinking about how to wrangle a popsicle out of me before bed. But the message I'm getting, three times in a row, is: Treasure this. It goes too quickly. He's all yours right now, so do it right.

And then I melt into those lovely big brown eyes for a moment too long and I don't speak. It's all I can do to blink and look away.

They'll get the best from me. I'll make sure of it.

Old News

2008-07-24T22:34:00.003-04:00

I belong to a parenting message board that's switching hosting sites. Because of that we have to get any of our old posts off the old site and record them somewhere else or we'll lose them. I've been going through old posts tonight and wanted to share some snippets from when Gage was younger, and some funny things that I haven't blogged about. It's so neat to read these old posts and remember these times. And oh, how they've grown. Sigh. Here goes....

Gage at 17 months: Gage has been saying "Excuse me" very well lately, it's too funny. He says it "Eh-see-see." He says it when he wants to get by and you're in the way, or when you're touching him and he wants personal space. It's the funniest thing in the world, I swear, this tiny guy ducking out from under your hand when you're trying to play with his hair or something, "Eh-see-see."

Gage at 18 months: Yesterday we were at Barnes & Noble and Gage went up to a woman who was sitting looking at a book. She had a cup of coffee and Gage pointed to it and leaned over to her and said, very seriously and quietly, "Hot." Without missing a beat, the lady goes, "Thank you. I'll be careful."

Gage just turned 2: On Monday he was playing in the kitchen and I was in the living room visiting with my mom. Gage gets quiet all of a sudden, then he says: "No spitting. Sit the steps. Time out." And he walked his little self right to the steps and sat down. After maybe thirty seconds he said: "Time out all done!" and got up, went back to playing. I was trying so hard not to LMAO, and I managed to say: "That's right, spitting is a naughty thing to do." But really, he had the whole thing covered.

(Next day) He did it again today! I didn't see what he did wrong - if anything - but he scooted over and sat right down on the steps.

He: "Sit the steps. Time out."
Me: "What happened?"
He: "Bit nonny."
Me: "You were a little bit naughty?"
He: "Yes. Bit nonny. Time out."
- Pause -
He: "Time out all done!"

I guess I'll never know what he did that time....

Gage a bit over 2: Gage has just started to say a couple of funny things, like: "Gage no sleepy alllll day."

He also has started narrating everything he does, like when he's going upstairs to his room:
He: "Gage upstairs. Play toys in room."
Me: "Okay. Have fun."
He: "Go up stairs. Bye, Mommy."
Me: "Bye, sweetie."
He: "Window open."
Me: "Yes, your windows are open."
He: "Love you!" (Lub you!)
Me: "Love you."
He: "Bye, Mommy!"

This can go on and on....

And everything is 'in two minutes.' "Hold you two minutes?" "Potty two minutes?" "Done dinner two minutes."

Oh, and I thought of one more. I told him he had to have a bite of potato before he could be done with dinner a few nights ago. I said "You may either have more fruit, then eat your potato. Or you may just eat the potato and be all done with dinner. What would you like?" he thought for a minute and said very cheerfully: "Mommy eat it!"

Gage at 2 years, 1 month: While DH was out of town this weekend I took the kids up to visit our friends in the Poconos. Gage and I slept on their pull-out couch. Everything is going well until...I hear Gage say "Huuuurts!" in the middle of the night. I woke up and looked over at where he should have been - he's gone.

I'm about to panic when I see his feet sticking straight up where his head used to be. He had squirmed around his pillow and fallen between the edge of the mattress and the cushions of the couch! He slipped through the, like, 8-inch gap there and all I could see was his little feet and ankles. I grabbed onto them and hauled him back up.

I was all frantically touching at him, like, "OMG, are you all right!?" He goes: "Yep," sticks his thumb back in his mouth and goes right back to sleep.

Scary, scary stuff! I stuffed a bunch of pillows back there so it wouldn't happen again.

He's such a trooper, that kid.

Gage at 2 years, 3 months: So I'm getting the kids in the car this morning and I tell Gage we're going to the doctor and he needs to have a shot. He thinks about it for a minute and says "No, thanks." I was like, "You have to have this shot to keep your body healthy and strong. It'll only hurt for a minute." We pull in at the doctor's office.

He: "We're here! At the doctor for baby Yi-yah."
Me: "No, sweetie, we're at the doctor for Gage."
He: "Nooo.... Doctor for baby Yi-yah. No Gage."

We go inside, and into the 'injection room' I don't know what this is called - it's a tiny room just for giving shots.

He: "No yike the doctor. No YIKE it."
Nurse: "Aww, Gage. I like *you*."
He: grumpy silence

He gets the shot. Cries hysterically for five seconds, kicking and screaming.

He: "Gage sad! Gage sad whole time! Gage cryin'!" Pause. Shuts the drama off like a lightswitch. "Gage feel better." All smiles. Accepts Elmo sticker from the nurse.

Nurse: "He handled that pretty well, I think."

Yes.... *Well*

If I ask Gage to do something he tells me that he has too much to do. I'll be, like, "Gage, get your shoes, we're going to the store." He'll say "Gage lots to do," hop on his tricycle and ride away. "Time for your bath." "Gage lots to do."

Oh, and the tricycle. He's been 'going to work' all week. He kisses Lila on the head, hugs her around the neck and says "Goin' to work!" then he climbs on the tricycle, tells Lila "Drive safe!" and rides away. After he rides around a little bit he comes over to me and says "Gage work at Jackson's houes (his cousin). Gage saw wood, Jackson hammer nails!" and the whole process starts over again. It's too funny.

And the other night we heard a strange noise in the house and Gage looked at me all wide-eyed.
He: "Hear that sound?"
Me: "Yes. What do you think it was?"
He: "Cookie Monster opening my door in my room."

A few weeks ago he regressed a little with pooping on the potty. he was doing it reliably and then he had a couple of accidents. I upped the potty reward, and this is what we do when he poops on the potty:
(1) We cheer and clap
(2) We flush the poop and use a "Special Wipe" (Peshal Yipe) - a toddler flushable wipe - on his bottom
(3) We light a candle (dubbed the "Poo-poo candle," unfortunately)
(4) We sing "Happy Poo-poo on the Potty," to the tune of Happy Birthday
(5) Gage blows out the candle
(6) He gets "A handful" (five) M&Ms

We're freaking crazy, right? This ritual is longer than, like, bedtime. It's ridiculous. But the good part is: he poops on the potty reliably again. So I'm not ready to give the ritual up yet....

It's too funny - after he poops on the potty and he yells, "Mommy, get the candle lighter!"

Gage at 2 years, 4 months: Really? Is *that* what the horse says? Gage inherited a rocking horse from friends and he's been climbing up on it, rocking it and saying "Na-HAY. Na-HAY."

Lila at 7 months: I asked Mike to keep an eye on Lila while I took Gage up to bed. I came back ten minutes later and Mike was lying on the floor, and Lila was playing up by his head. I came closer and I saw that Mike was sound asleep and Lila was playing with his hair!

Gage at 2 yrs, 5 months: Gage has recently started patting me very gently on the cheek, looking soulfully into my eyes and saying "You're a good boy, Mommy."

He also says "Uh...sure," after he asks for something, and although I'm not aware that I do it he must be copying me. He'll say "Gage have a snack?" and before I can answer he goes "Uh...sure!" Like he's trying to sell me on the idea, LOL.

The two babysitters we interviewed are named Megan and Jordan. He calls them "Megnin" and "Jordnin."

Gage at 2 years, 7 months, Lila 9 months: Yesterday Gage said "There's a little snow on the ground." But in his slurry toddler-speak it came out: "There's a yittle no on the down."

He's also been very affectionate with Lila lately - hugging and kissing her, but also sometimes rolling over her on the floor. Luckily...she doesn't mind.

Gage at 2 years, 9 months: He doesn't understand 'funny' being anything but ha-ha. Like, I'll say "Do those shoes feel funny?" and he'll say "No, they don't feel funny, I don't like them. I want funny shoes!"

Gage at 2 years, 10 months, Lila almost a year: Today Gage rescued a little boy at the playground. The little boy was about three, and his grandfather was there but busy with his younger brother. Gage was standing on a platform and the little boy was at the top of a tricky ladder, but he couldn't make it to the platform. He yelled "Help! I'm stuck!" Gage and I both got there at the same time. I gave him a little boost on his bottom and Gage reached for his hand, saying, "Don't worry, I will help you!" I was so proud of him.

And whenever anyone leaves the house, be it his grandma, me, Mike, his aunt...he says "Hugs and kisses!" Once that's done he looks sternly into our faces and says "Now, remember. There are cars in the street. Be careful and look both ways." We have to nod our heads seriously and say "Okay. I'll remember."

Lila swings her fingertip into her mouth and makes a smacking noise to indicate 'hungry.' Today at dinner she pointed at the rice, looked at me and did her sign for hungry. I'm so pleased that she's finally able to communicate a little! She's also saying "Hi" and "Guh" for Gage.

Gage has been hitting the stage of disagreeing with us over what he is allowed to do. Like today he tried to take some of Lila's cereal and I said, "You may not do that," he puffed up his chest, looked me in the eyes and thundered "Yes I may!"

Last week he was experimenting with blowing raspberries in our faces when he isn't pleased. We put a quick stop to that. But twice today we had confrontations and he looked in my face and I could see he was thinking about blowing a raspberry. The first time he just blew air, like at my hair. Way to be aggressive, buddy, LOL. The next time he *coughed* at me. I had to tell him that he wasn't allowed to *cough* at me.

That's, like, one of those things you never thought you'd have to say. "You may not cough at me out of anger."

Our dog doesn't bark much, but he whines a lot. When you ask Lila "What does a doggie say?" She whines: "Nnn Nnn Nnn." It's too cute.

Gage at 2 years, 11 months: This morning we went to Linens-N-Things (Store closing! Sale!) and we went through the first set of doors. I grabbed a cart with my free hand - I was holding Lila in the other arm - and Gage was right beside me. I went through the other set of doors and Gage started to, but then was distracted by something and stopped. I went to put Lila in the cart and realized he wasn't right with me. I called to him and he started to come, but the doors were closing. It would have been funny if he wasn't so scared. He looked like a tiny commuter who missed the train. He stuck his head and arms through the gap but had to pull his head out, and then tried to pry the doors open with his hands but they closed anyway and he had to let go and step back. He looked so scared and lonely, his lip all quivery. Luckily a woman was coming through, and she stepped on the thing to make the doors open again. He talked about it for like a half hour after, "I was in there but then I didn't want to be in there but the doors closed!"

Lila 15 months, Gage almost 3: The other day Lila picked up a toy phone, put it to her ear and said "Hi Gage." We were all hysterical.

Gage has been such a little adult lately. It's so funny. Like yesterday my dad bought him a little matchbox truck, and I was trying to get the package open and I was having trouble. Gage was like "It's okay, Mommy. Keep trying. You'll get it!"

And my mom was taking him around the block on his little bike last night and she moved it a bit to center it on the sidewalk.
Gage: "That's my bike, Grandma."
Grandma: "I know it is."
Gage: "Please don't touch it again."

Babyhood Falling Away

2008-07-01T14:06:00.007-04:00

While Gage is testing (constantly) his new independence, however clumsily (and, at times, annoyingly), Lila has become so much more child and so much less baby in the past few weeks. She plays so nicely with toys - either her own or her brother's - her favorite thing to do is to put smaller things into larger things. Beads into a cup, or blueberries into a toy wagon. I find quarters in my work shoes every day.

She speaks now, which is so exciting. I kind of forgot that she'd start, since she's "the baby." Babies don't speak. But Lila, my blossoming child, says "Up." And "Down." And "Gage." And "Ball," and "Ow," and "Milk."

Lila gives hugs, when she feels like it. When I come home from work she races to me, grunting eagerly. She twists her plucky little arms around my neck and buries her face in my shoulder, squealing with pleasure. If there exists a better greeting than that I don't know it.

She loves her blanket, loves it to bits. Every time I lay it out for her she scrambles toward it as fast as she can go and collapses in a heap of warm limbs, smushing her face down into the supreme softness and grinning widely.

She's charmingly naughty, and she knows it. She sneaks up the stairs and I know where she's going - to plunge her hands into the toilet and splash around until I can grab her away. I see her at the top of the stairs and I sternly say "Li-LA," and she starts giggling hysterically and she runs - runs - into the bathroom. She made it to the toilet twice before we broke down and installed a baby gate to prevent further toilet-splashing adventures (and the resulting obsessive hand-washing).

She sleeps through the night, twelve hours in a row. This is a HUGE milestone that I'm sure has more than a little positive effect on my own well-being. She's still nursing four times a day and it's going well for both of us. Neither of us is ready to call it quits yet, but I imagine the end is looming within the next several months.

And she eats so heartily you'd swear she had a hollow leg. This kid can put away as much food as I can! And she'll eat anything we put in front of her. Brussels sprouts. Edamame. Pork chops. Curried chicken!

She's something, this kid. She's so much fun these days, and such a bright light in my life.

Gage is doing plenty of his own growing up, too. He decided several weeks ago to give up diapers at night, and has never once had an accident. He doesn't have accidents in the day anymore, either - amazingly he's had only one in the last two months. We spread out some blankets on the living room floor and were playing "Nest" which is really just an excuse for me to lay down and snuggle them, maybe even close my eyes for a minute or two. He got up from the nest and dragged his little blue chair over to the spot where he'd been sitting.

Me: "What are you doing?"
Gage: "Just coverin' up the spot where I peed."

Of course. (Sighing) Well, these things happen.

He is still loving his gym class at Parkettes and talks about it all throughout the week. He is so brave these days, so brave. He dives into the foam blocks now and swings "like a monkey" from the bars. He is getting so much out of that class, it's been nothing but good for him.

I read an old entry recently and was so surprised to remember how he talked about himself in the third person - he never does that anymore. Sometime in the last several months he dropped it, and I never really noticed the transition. He went from "Gage want to do that" to "I want to do that."

There are two really charming things with his language right now - the verb To Be and his Ls. He still can't say the Ls, so two nights ago when he meant to say: "Leave me alone Lila" it came out "Yeave me ayone, Yi-yah" and I couldn't help but laugh.

He doesn't have a firm grip on To Be...like he'll say "I are ready," or "Mommy, you am tired?" I love it. He also says "Mines." As in "No, Yi-yah, don't take the crackers. They're mines."

He loves to hear about words he mispronounced when he was younger. He loves to tell people "When I am a baby I can't say 'Syrup' so I say 'Seer-pup.'" Or "...I can't say 'Truck' so I say 'Look at that tut!'" I think he imagines that these were mistakes from his babyhood, rather than mistakes from a few short months ago. I'm constantly logging away more from now to tell him in another few months.

The summer is passing so quickly, but we're enjoying every day of it. I've been working earlier in the day, which allows us more time as a family in the evening. It's been wonderful and stickily humid and I can't believe June is over.

Enough of This Nonsense

2008-06-11T22:38:00.004-04:00

All right. Here's the thing. It's been way too long. I know that, you know that. The only one who can change this is me. So here's my changing it. And I'm hoping to post once a week throughout the summer. Really going to try.

Now I'll try to get back on your good side with some adorable photos.

Yeah. Not so mad at me now, are you?

I told you I'd make it right.

Okay. So here's a run-down of what's happened lately. Lila had her first birthday, and a wonderful party with the perfect combination of family and friends. She also has four teeth and will cut two more tomorrow, Friday at the latest. You can totally see them in her gums, they're right there.

She's a walking maniac, never crawling anymore. She's quite steady on her feet and only rarely plops down on her bottom. She is a spit-fire, for sure. If you tell her something she doesn't want to hear (like: 'No,' ahem) she throws herself down on the floor and reels, thrashing her head from side to side in misery. Then she sneaks a peek at you, to make sure you're still looking, and if you are she goes right back to it. She's hysterical. I mean...heart-wrenching. Yes, that last one is surely more appropriate.

Gage has been going through some changes. Namely, becoming more of a person and less of a being I can control. While my family loves to watch me struggling to deal with this new burst of Free Will I kind of miss my sweet boy. Don't get me wrong - it's not all the time. It'll be, like, two days of difficulty followed by three days of Sweet Gage. But on those difficult days....

Gage: "I want to go outside."
Me: "We can. You need shoes. They're in your room, in the basket by your bookshelf."
Gage: "I want Mommy to get them."
Me: "No, you may get them."
Gage: "I want Mommy to get them."
Me: "You may not go outside with no shoes. If you want to go outside you must get your shoes yourself."
Gage (thundering): "NO, YOU MAY GET THEM. YOU MAY."

He has so much trembling insistence that it's hard not to sympathize with him. But, I'm not getting the shoes. I'm just not. He's a big boy now. Sigh.

And on other days he's such a total sweet peach. He's a darling doll who just wants to snuzzle and kiss and read books all day long. I do love those days. (Heck, I love all the days.) I'm more *grateful* for those days, I guess.

We have a family pass to the Lehigh Valley Zoo and we go about once a week. We go during the day, when it's just me and the kids. I don't want to jinx us, but they've been *angels* at the zoo. They just love it, and are happy and pleasant the whole time we're there. Of course, now the next time we go they'll both be crabby and inconsolable, but I'm just going to take the risk. Gage is such a little companion at the zoo - Lila is interested and happy to ride in the stroller and look around - but Gage is so animated about all of it. He loves the kangaroos and the emu. Who knew?

Last night we had a bad storm, and Gage's reaction to the thunder made me realize how much has changed in a year.

Gage last year, wide-eyed during a thunderstorm: "BIG funder."
Gage this year, totally cool: "Hear that thunder? I don't worry about thunder."

Gage last year, about sunscreen: (Screaming unintelligibly the whole time I'm spraying him, rubbing it in. Tears and all.)
Gage this year, about sunscreen: (Standing totally still and accepting, save for the initial shiver at the first blast.) He even reminds me: "I need the sunkeen."

Today I was playing with him in the sandbox, and he said: "Mommy. I need to go get somefing. Don't wreck my castles."
I said: "Okay."
He turned to go, and came back to say: "Mommy. Don't let Yi-Yah wreck my castles."
I said: "Okay."
He turned to go, and came back to say: "Mommy. Don't let any bugs come."
I said: "Okay."

Finally he was able to walk away, having touched on all of the requirements for an unattended sandbox. So of course I wrecked his castles with Lila, and let the bugs come. Kidding!

I do see where he's coming from, though. A couple of weeks ago he had a little bowl that had some Nerd candies in it. I told him it was time for bed and he wanted to take the candies with him. I said No, that he'd have to wait and eat them the next day. He said: "Okay, but Mommy, don't eat my candies."

Well, guess what.

I don't even know how it happened! The Nerds were there one minute, all pink and tiny and delicious-looking. Then there was a wonderful crunchy, tangy goodness in my mouth, then the bowl was empty.

Ah, well. Live and learn. Moms needs candy, too. Just, I'm guessing, most don't actually take it *from* their children. Especially after their children have asked them not to. But whatevs.

More pictures, to help you forget about the Nerds:

Hair Cut

2008-05-27T17:04:00.001-04:00

A Few Misunderstandings

2008-04-30T00:47:00.005-04:00

So we were at the grocery store this evening - Gage has been jonesing for Chinese food from Wegmans and my mom took us out - and I had a couple of glimpses into Gage's brain that made me realize I need to clear some stuff up.

One.
Gage points to a broom. "Look at that big paintbrush, Mommy!"

D'oh! My housekeeping skills may be lacking.... Headdesk.

Two.

Gage: "Milk comes from cows."
Me: "That's right."
Gage: "Chicken meat comes from chickens."
Me: "Right again, kiddo."
Gage: "Bananas come from monkeys."
Me: "Um."

Not to mention, he must assume monkeys are cannibals. I mean, you never see a chicken eating 'chicken meat,' do you? (groaning)

After Wegmans we went to Toys-R-Us to look for a sandbox (shh...birthday present). Gage looked around at all of the summer toys and found a couple things he'd like. But, charmingly, he also found toys that he thought his friends would like. He saw an inflatable play house that he said "That one's for Bella." And he found a little set of animals and cavemen that he asked to buy for his cousin, Dan. What a little sweetheart he is.

Alas, we bought not a thing. But he didn't give me any trouble about leaving empty-handed, which was excellent. That place is dripping with temptation. The air in the store is thick and heavy with want. It's a ridiculous place. I was thrilled that we were able to walk out in one piece, with no screaming.

And...Lila took thirteen unassisted steps today. She's taken to just letting go of whatever she's braced up against...in this case it was the coffee table...and walking slowly, steadily into the middle of the living room. Go, Li! Thirteen steps is huge.

Quick Note

2008-04-16T21:13:00.002-04:00

Lila took her first real steps today.

She walked from Mike to me in Gage's bedroom - slowly, carefully, and steadily. Four big, real steps.

Way to go, sweet Lila!

Nose Candy

2008-04-15T22:45:00.002-04:00

So my mom, Gage and I are on our way to Wegman’s on Saturday. My mom and I are chatting in the front seat and Gage is eating a couple of tiny candies in his carseat in the back. He had five candies – and each was smaller than a PEZ. He bit each one in half and showed me the inside “Look, Mommy, there’s white in there.” I had acknowledged this five times, so I know that he was on the last one.

“Uh-oh,” I hear. “I can’t eat my candy!”
Me: “Why not?”
He: “Because it’s in my nose!”
Me: D’oh. D’oh. D’oh.
He: (beginning to freak out): “Get it out!”

It was awful. And awfully funny. I tried to get him to blow his nose, but he wouldn’t. I could see the candy up there, but there was nothing I could do to get it out. I finally had to say: “If you won’t blow your nose then it’s just going to have to stay up there. Until you sneeze.”

He: (sighing resignedly): “O-tay.” (Note: He's okay with that? He's okay with the fact that a piece of candy is lodged in his nasal passage? Because heaven forbid he blow his freaking nose.)

Two minutes later he sneezed, and the candy flew out. I caught it in my hand, because, as gross as it is, you just kind of learn to catch whatever comes flying out of your kids’ faces. He grinned and squealed “Ooh! Can I have it now?”

Um, no. No, buddy. You can’t.

So two big things happened to Lila in the past several days. She got two new teeth (her first) and a mop of curly hair!
She’s also just beginning to stand randomly in the middle of the room – like, go from sitting to standing and then back down to sitting without touching anything along the way. And she’ll take a couple of steps to get from me to Mike and back again. But she’s still pretty unsteady. She’s said Mama a handful of times and Dada, but she won’t say them reliably. Also, I swear, she said “Good cracker” twice. But no one else heard, and no one else believes me. Well, Lila and I know she did it, anyway.

Gage has been playing the funniest games lately – like he’ll set a box up on the floor and stand on it, then lean over until the box falls down. The whole time he’s doing this he says “Whoa. Whoa!” Then he breathes really quickly and dramatically collapses on the floor, saying “Oh no! What’s happening!?” Then he gets up, sets the box up straight, and starts the whole thing over again.

Mike asked me about this, saying “What the heck is he doing?” and I answered “His new game is panic.” I bet he’s going to love scary movies someday.

Since Gage has been in a big-boy bed he’s done some pretty random stuff. One morning I woke up and walked downstairs into the living room, and Gage is walking out of the kitchen peeling a banana. “Hi, Mommy!” he said cheerfully, and took a big bite.

Another time he woke me up by putting a bolt in my ear.

And on Monday I just woke up…just opened my eyes and he was standing in front of me, staring into my face. Talk about scary movies. I mean, I love my kids more than life itself but when you’re sleeping you want to just be able to sleep, you know what I mean? You don’t want to think that somebody might be waiting, one inch from your face, just waiting for you to open your eyes.

Lila’s staying in her crib until she’s five years old, I swear.

Mr. Gym Class is getting pretty brave. I’m so glad we signed him up for Parkettes. He’s been so bold about jumping, rolling, he’s just more of a bruiser now than he was two weeks ago. I’m really glad about that.

Oh, and…I just got the first-ever good picture of my kids together:

They're darlings, aren't they?

Slow Down

2008-04-07T17:34:00.003-04:00

This afternoon I was rushing to get the kids down for their naps. Lila went well enough - she was ready. Gage resisted my hurrying, but resignedly moped his way to bed as well. Only a few minutes after I turned off his light I heard him call for me.

I sighed, hands sticky with the raw chicken that I was submerging in broth to cook for this evening's enchiladas, and finished what I was doing quickly.

He calls again. I can't call back - Lila will wake.

I washed my hands, ran up the stairs and hissed 'what?' at him in the duskiness of his doorway. "You have to be quiet."

"Mommy, nunnle with me." This is how he asks me to snuggle. To nunnle.

"I can give you a hug, but I need to get back to making dinner." I crouch near his bed and give him a quick squeeze.

"No, Mommy, nunnle with me, like this," he puts his face near mine and makes this little happy whimpering sound that we coo to each other when we're feeling the most contented.

His eyes, inches from mine, huge and liquid and clear. The most deeply hued brown I've ever seen. I get lost.

My heart breaks.

I climb into his bed and lay my face alongside his. I breathe his feathery, moistly warm hair straight into my nose. I coo at him and he coos back, wriggling with happiness at this reprieve. I stroke his cheek, from his temple to his jaw, with the side of my thumb.

I murmur about his day, about who he saw, what he did. He sticks his thumb in his mouth and smiles around it when I hit on the good parts. I run one fingertip down the middle of his back, feeling the buttons of his spine. I graze the bottoms of his bare feet with the same fingertip and he pulls them away, tucking them underneath him. He's getting ticklish.

"You're going to have a good nap," I whisper. He grins at me and gives one last puppyish shiver.

I kiss the nape of his neck and lift myself from his bed, leaving a depression in his little mattress. I blow him a kiss from the doorway and back out of his room, watching him nuzzle into his treasured blankie.

And you know what? For all my rushing, for all my perceived deadlines? The chicken was fine. Of course the chicken was fine.

I need to remember to slow down.

Props for Easter

2008-03-24T00:08:00.006-04:00

So we had Easter. It was supercool. Gage colored and hunted eggs. Lila ate asparagus and then her pee smelled bad. (Who knew it happened so young!?) All in all, a great holiday.

My parents gave the kids gift-wrapped books and, for Gage, a small basket of goodies. I was absurdly proud watching my tiny man crouch next to his sister, insisting she help him unwrap the gifts. Tearing the paper with his right hand, holding the gift solidly with his left. Saying "Oh my goodness, Gage SO excited." Little streams of paper tossed haphazardly over his shoulder...it was great. And when he finally had the entire gift unwrapped he screeched "Ooh! A book! I've never seen that [particular book before]." Except, in Gage-speak, it comes out in a rushed "Ooh! I've never-neen-nat." So pleased.

Times like these -it's like watching a video of yourself from the years before you have any memories. It's remembering yourself at your most basic, your most vulnerable. Easter is exciting all over again.

Lila was a beautiful sight in her fancypants Easter dress.

Except for repeatedly wrenching the bow from her hair, she seemed to enjoy the holiday.

Also, she found an abandoned, half-eaten lollipop on a low shelf today (left by Gage, of course, this morning). She was one happy lady, let me tell you. Until the fateful moment I took the pop away. Then there were tears. Only from her - I rather enjoy taking candy from babies.

Gage wore a tie and suspenders for approximately 22 minutes before demanding they be removed. In fact, he demanded the *shirt* be removed as well, but thanks to my mom's quick thinking he settled for having the top button unbuttoned.

Ah, yes. He's Mike's and my son, for sure.

All this dressing up business can be fun: for a very limited amount of time. And then...bring on the pajama pants. Okay, that's more me than Mike. But you know what I'm saying.

When the kids were sleeping and the house was straightened, Mike actually dragged me outdoors today. In the summer he doesn't have to drag - I'm the one dragging him. But when it's cold I lack enthusiasm for the world outside my nest. Oops - I meant to say: The world outside my house.

Once outside we played with this little wooden toy we bought several years ago - a small propellor toy that's just a dowel with a blade on top.
We bought it for about $1.50 and it's proved to be the best $1.50 we've spent on anything, ever. So many times we've gone outside to play with this toy - spinning the thing back and forth to each other across an expanse of grass - reaching high to intercept a bad spin, deftly catching a good one. Teasing each other for awful tosses, blaming the wind for missed catches.

And we talk.

There's far too little talk in our everyday lives. We talk about the kids, we talk about work, the house, chores, the news, what happened on Jon & Kate Plus 8. We talk about money, sex, all the things every couple talks about. But sometimes then there's not all that much more time. Or there's time, but all we can think about is getting some rest.

So we need to get ourselves outside - we need to do *something* to get ourselves in an out of the ordinary situation - to reconnect and discover each other all over again.

Yeah, a $1.50 simplest toy ever. I think we should consider buying a back-up. You know. Just in case.

You should probably get one, too. You never know when it'll come in handy. For now, you can keep it in your glove compartment.

Waiting For The Sun

2008-03-19T00:56:00.005-04:00

I'm fairly certain that I'm boring.

The background: Several nights ago I heard Gage talking in his room at 10:30 at night. I knew he hadn't fallen asleep yet, because I heard him off and on since bedtime. I go to check on him.

Me: "Everything okay, pal?"
Gage: "Yep. I'm just talking to myself and waiting for the sun to shine through the windows."

Oh. Okay. Carry on, then. But it'll be a while....

The current: Last night he was still up at ten o'clock and I went to see what was up. He told me he had to go pee, so I said okay. He followed me to the bathroom and I sat him on the potty, sat myself on the edge of the tub.

Gage (walking 'Mr. Fingers' [his index and middle fingers of his right hand] around on his legs): "Mumble, mumble, whisper, whisper." I can't make out what he's saying.
Me (thinking about the other night): "It's neat to talk to yourself, you know?"
Gage: silence, still walking Mr. Fingers.
Me: "I just think it's cool to, you know, like talk to yourself sometimes. It's like thinking, but out loud. And you--"
Gage: "Mommy."
Me: "When you talk to yourself you can say whatever you want, you know?"
Gage: "Mommy."
Me: "I do it, too. I talk to myself sometimes. And that's fine. It's kind of cool."
Gage: "Mommy! Privacy, please?"

Wow. Dissed by my two-year-old. I think I just got a glimpse of what we're in for during puberty. Except, in retrospect, I probably would have wanted me to shut up already, too, LOL.

Speaking of puberty, Lila is crazy emotional. I just don't remember Gage being this way as a baby. She knows what she wants, and she won't be deterred! She's ruthless, that one. If I take something away from her she throws her body into contortions - she arches her back and rips her head backward and screams. I've nearly dropped her several times. I'm not going to lie. *Several* times.

She screams when she's nursing and she's finished all the milk. She is *infuriated* at my lack of unlimited supply.

She screams 18 times during every Mommy & Me Yoga Class when she slips my grip and starts merrily crawling toward a stand-alone fan, wanting so much to pull the thing over onto herself. I always stop her before she gets there, and she screams for the thirty seconds I can hold onto her wet-bar-of-soap/fish-out-of-water body and as soon as she slips away she heads right over to the fan again. I'm still wondering why I *paid* for that class...because this paragraph really encompasses most of what we did there.

Classes...we just started Gage in one. A gym class at Parkettes in Allentown. Mike and Gage will go to the gym every Saturday morning for 12 weeks - it's a 1-3 yr old class. So far - we've only had one class - I really like the teacher and Gage really likes the gym. I take him occassionally to the Open Gym there, where he can do as he pleases for an hour - trampolines, foam pit, balance beams, sliding boards, bars, etc. The class is more structured, which is good. I think it'll be good for him.

And the balance beam. He has exceptional balance. I seriously think that it's one of his major strengths. Look at this tower:

This isn't anything exceptional; I just happened to have the camera right there. He does this kind of thing all. The. Time. He throws these towers together in five seconds, barely even adjusting the items. He just senses how it's going to balance, and it always does. I never think his towers will stand, but they always do.

It just seems to make sense to him.

It's the same thing with the balance beam. He'll hop up onto a regular 4-inch beam, a couple of feet in the air, and walk along the thing at his totally normal pace, without looking down or anything. One foot right exactly in front of the other. With much more confidence and speed than I would have, and quite a more cavalier attitude about it. I barely touch his hand to make sure he doesn't fall, but I won't leave his side yet...just because, you know. I'm his mama.

I wanted to record some of the mispronunciations he's currently embracing. They're so funny, and pure, and I don't want to forget them. So....

Throat = Froap...as in "Food goes in my mouth, then down my froap, then into my belly!"

Pulp = Seaweed...as in "Gage no yike dis orange. Too much seaweed!"

Upside down = Upside Over

Velcro = Bell-tow

You're welcome = You're Yell-comb

Strangely, the PBS show Word World = Wharf Door

And, still, By myself = My byself

Oh, I just thought of one more story. Today Gage, Lila and I were in Gage's room, cleaning. Lila was crawling around, finding things to play with. I was cleaning up the wooden kitchen, and Gage was flitting between helping me, visiting Lila and running a toy motorcycle on the floor.

Gage: "Yi-yah, what do you have in your mouth?" I look over at them. To my astonishment, in perfect imitation of me, Gage sweeps his finger in Lila's mouth and pulls out a little wooden plug - the kind that goes in a screw hole to make furniture look nice.

Gage: "No, Yi-yah, you're too yittle for dis."

Me: "Wow, Gage, good job! That was so great. Lila wasn't supposed to have that. And you got it away from her. Well done."

Gage (looking at me sympathetically and waiting a respectful several seconds before replying): "It's okay, Mommy. You didn't know."

This kid, man. This kid. How does *he* know?

The Soundtrack to Gage's Life

2008-03-05T14:17:00.003-05:00

For the past couple of weeks Gage has wanted to hear songs about his everyday life. This is all fine and good - I'm perfectly willing to make up and belt out tunes on command - but in the last couple of days his requests have gotten a bit strange.

Yesterday he asked me for a packet of crackers and I was almost finished getting lunch ready.

Me: "You may eat those after lunch. We're going to have lunch now."
Gage: "Have crackers now?"
Me: "No, sweetpea. What did Mommy say?"
Gage: "In a few minutes?"
Me: "After lunch."
Gage: "Eat the crackers up now? In my belly?"
Me: "Please don't ask again, Gage. You may have them after lunch."
Gage sulks for a minute, feeling very sorry for himself. Finally: "Mommy sing me a song, please?"
Me: "Sure, Gage. What do you want me to sing about?"
Gage: "Sing about Gage wanting some crackers. And Mommy saying no. And Gage being so sad. And Gage crying and crying."
Me (sighing heavily):

"There once was a boy named Gage
He wanted to eat some crackers
But his Mommy said no
We're gonna have lunch soon

Gage was so hungry for crackers
It made him so sad to have to wait
But his Mommy said no, not yet
You can have those crackers after lunch

Gage was so sad that he started to cry
He cried and cried and cried
Then he ate lunch and he started to feel better
And after lunch he ate up his crackers."

Gage: "Thanks, Mommy."

We do this probably 6 times a day. He has these confusing situations and he doesn't actually cry in real life, but he always wants to hear about himself crying in the songs. It's too funny.

Other songs he's requested from me include:
"A song about Gage walkin' into Yi-yah's room and wakin' her up."
"...Gage crying about having his hair washed."
"...Gage bumping his head on the door."
"...walking downstairs and reading books." (While supposed to be napping.)
"...the tiger that lives in the backyard." (This one's new. It's a yellow and black tiger named "Big Tiger." Apparently he lives in the shrubbery and defends our property.)

Every one begins with "There once was a boy named Gage." He often says that part with me. I'm so predictable, LOL.

Here's the song about waking up Baby Lila:

"There once was a boy named Gage
He was feeling very naughty
His sister Lila was sleeping in her crib
And Gage went in her room and woke her up

Lila cried and cried and cried (See a pattern here!?)
She was so sad that Gage woke her up
She stood up in her crib and looked at Gage
And she felt so sad because she didn't sleep enough

Gage felt sorry for waking her up
And he kissed her on the head and rubbed her back
Lila felt a little bit better
But Gage thought 'I won't wake her up ever again.'"

Let's hope that last line is the only takeaway from this particular song!

(Almost) All About Gage

2008-02-27T01:14:00.004-05:00

Gage's brand-new line: "What's so funny?" It's awful. It's awful because *everything* is funny! He cracks me up seventy-five percent of his waking hours (the other twenty-five percent is comprised of whining, using the potty and drinking milk, in no particular order). Several times tonight he cracked me up, and I got the old evil eye and a stern "What's so funny!?" You are, kid. You are.

You know how he's so concerned with happy being the opposite of sad, and that one of them has to be happening all the time? My mom and I took the kids out to the diner tonight and Gage threw a little sheet of stickers under the table. He looked at me and:
He: "Was that funny?"
Me: "No."
He: "Was that happy?"
Me: "Nope."
He: "O-tay. That was sad. I'll pick it up. Sorry, Mommy." He ducks under the table. And then, two seconds later, glaring at me, "What's so funny?"

I made a mistake the last time I had him at the diner, though. They have three plasticky pictures on one of the windows - like big stickers - and each one is a different fish. The first two - I don't know what they are. The last one is a shark. We sat near the fish stickers and of course they were a big hit.
He (pointing at the first picture): "What's this?"
Me (thinking fast - it's orangey): "Uh...a goldfish."
He (next picture): "What's this?"
Me (having no idea): "A barracuda."
He: "Hmm...batta-tutta."

Now all he can talk about is the freaking batta-tutta! And the picture, of course, is of a very mild-looking fish. There aren't even any teeth. Why did I have to choose barracuda? Everyone in the diner probably thinks I'm a moron. They look at the picture, they look at me, they sadly shake their heads.

Speaking of bad influences...Gage was trying to pull up his pants the other day...and they got caught on his bottom. He wrenched them around but couldn't pull them up. "This sucks," he said. I calmly pulled up his pants, left the room and busted up laughing. It was his first naughty phrase! Mike glared at me and said "That's all from you." He's right. I have to be more careful.

How's this for an ironic picture....

He ate a big lunch of pasta with garlic marinara today (his favorite meal) and drank two small cups of apple juice. When he was finished he stood up, grabbed his belly and said: "My tummy sooo full. Gage ate so many food. Gage heavy."

Often in the morning Gage will wake up, go into Lila's room and climb into her crib. I don't know how long they're in there before he calls me, but it doesn't seem like a very short amount of time. They squeal to each other in some secret dolphin language and Gage talks to her, tells her how to play with her toys. Eventually he wakes me up and calls for me to come get them. He's never tried to climb out of her crib, and doesn't seem inclined to.

Last night I went in to check on Gage in the middle of the night. He was sleeping - on his floor. Sometimes the bed seems to just be too much for him. I don't claim to understand it. I picked him up, and blankie, of course, and placed them both gently on his bed. I tucked blankie around him and his eyes fluttered. He grinned at me and whispered "Thanks, Mommy."

Sweet boy. My heart melts.

A quick, sad note

2008-02-11T17:52:00.000-05:00

One of the clients from my company passed away this weekend. I learned about it this afternoon and it hit me kind of hard. I knew he was sick - he got very sick very recently - but it was still a shock to know that he'd passed. He was a terrifically friendly, solid man and I respected him and enjoyed his company immensely. I'm fully certain that everyone who knew him will miss him dearly.

Gage was in bed when I heard the news, so I had a little time to be sad by myself. When he got up he came and sat with me. I know I was smiling at him and talking in a friendly voice, but somehow he saw sadness behind my eyes. He was looking so closely at me, like through me, and he said in this tiny voice: "You a little sad, Mommy?"

Me (surprised that he noticed): "Yes, I guess I am a little sad."
He (humming in different pitches): "Hmm, hmm, hmm."
Me: "Someone I know from work got sick and it makes me feel sad to think about him."
He: "Gage sing for you. Make you feel better. Hmm, hmm, hmm."
Me: "Thanks, pal. That song does make me feel better."
He: "Daddy no sick. Gage no sick."
Me: "Nope. Daddy, Mommy, Gage and Lila are all healthy, and we're very lucky."
He (touching my cheek): "You feel better, Mommy?"
Me: "Yes, Sweetpea. I feel much better now."

How does he do it? How does he turn me to complete mush? He can see hidden tiredness in our eyes and hear a yawn in our speech. He knows the moment he's pushed his limits too far, and whispers an apology just before we scold him. He is so attuned to our moods - it's darling but also heavy.

I'm constantly surprised by his intuitions.

(Almost) All About Lila!

2008-02-06T01:33:00.000-05:00

It's been far too long. Lila is practically a grown woman by now. And Gage has married and left the family home.

Well...maybe not quite that long. But. We’ve been sick off and on (mostly on) since the week before Christmas, with the worst of it just last week. We had the stomach virus from Hell. ALL of us. In two days I lost five pounds. I haven't been that sick since I had a 104-degree fever on Christmas morning when I was about 12. Anyway.

We now have two teenaged babysitters. I may have mentioned our search – it’s been a while, I’m actually cringing because I can’t remember how much I’ve talked about this. We need coverage for the kids Mon-Thurs from about 3:00 until 4:30, between the time that I leave for work and Mike gets home. We have two wonderful sitters now. They’re great with the kids and they are quite punctual, professional, friendly and sweet. Their parents have done well. (Of course, when I was 16 I would have eaten up that praise and in my head I would have claimed that my *parents* had nothing to do with it – it was all me. Ah, to be young and naïve….)

Still, it’s weird. I guess it doesn’t matter how much you like the people you leave your kids with, they’re still not you. Maybe it will get easier. I HOPE it gets easier. For both Gage and myself. The babysitter came today and told me that last Thursday Gage stood at the front door for fifteen minutes after I left, waiting for me to come back. Today he begged me "Mommy stay home and play with me." Failing that, "Gage come to work with you?" It's too sad.

Did I tell you Lila’s crawling completely the right way now? Belly off the floor. She’s such a little girl already. She’s dropping the baby from her face at an alarming rate. I packed up all the clothes she’s outgrown today and her drawers are fairly empty. It seems some shopping is in order…. Darn. LOL

Lila and I are taking a Mommy & Me Yoga class every Sunday morning with my sister and her daughter. Lila and I, unfortunately, are the class deadbeats. I go early so she can nurse in the huge, warm room (we go to The Yoga Loft on South Side Bethlehem). She crawls around, stopping often to check and see if I’m still where she left me. She gums up the mirrors with her sticky little hands. She greets the other babies who come in with big grins and attempts at hair-pulling (friendly, I’m sure).

We start the Yoga and fifteen minutes into the forty-five minute class Lila is DONE. She just stops. She is tired of lying on her back while I massage her little belly, feet and hands. Every time I let go of her she rolls over and tries to escape. I pull her back onto my mat by her ankles and she protests grumpily. We end up nursing again and by the time she calms down again we have five more minutes of class and then it’s over. I pack her into the car and she falls asleep in about three seconds. Then my sister and I go out to lunch to eat cheeseburgers or waffles. Got to counteract the healthful Yoga somehow….

Lila has another big thing going on. She is great at going to bed at night – GREAT. I have no complaints there. I put her in the crib, let her blankie drift down under her chin, covering her, and she grins at me and rolls over to fall asleep. The problem is that she’d wake up again two hours later. And then two hours after that. And then again.

I went to the doctor a week ago for my never-ending bout of illness and my doctor (sweet, sweet doctor) told me it’s time to let her cry it out at night. Cry it out, or CIO, is when you let your baby fuss without going in her room to comfort her or feed her. It’s a big transitional time because she teaches herself to self-soothe and fall asleep on her own. All babies – all PEOPLE – go through stages in their sleep every night. Lila took to waking at the end of each sleep cycle and was relying on my feeding her to get back asleep. As of five nights ago this all changed. The doctor said that I’d do a lot better physically if I got more sleep, so once we were all healthy enough to employ CIO we did.

The first three nights were NO FUN. They were awful. I had a really tough time – tougher than with Gage – but we persevered. Lila had a tough time – the second night (the worst) she woke up about seven times. The fourth night she woke up once, for three minutes. The fifth she woke up once, for thirty seconds. Tonight is the sixth night.

Lila is certainly none the worse for wear. She is way old enough to not eat during the night. And I’m already reaping the benefits of a better night’s sleep. I’ve had more energy the past couple of days than I’ve had for months. So. Go us.

And...my aunt works for M&Ms and we're taking part in a consumer study about a new M&Ms idea wherein they print your kids' FACE on an M&M. I sent them a pic of Lila and I should get my M&Ms in a couple of weeks. I'm excited to get them - and we'll definitely be eating them at her 1st birthday party - but therein lies the problem. We'll be eating the M&Ms. The ones with a picture of my daughter on them. We'll be eating my daughter's face. Huh.

I'm guessing that the results of this study are: "It's a little odd." We'll see.

Next up: "(Almost) All About Gage!"

Sand & Santa

2007-12-21T01:36:00.001-05:00

We decorated the tree yesterday. When Mike and Gage came home with it on Tuesday evening Gage proudly declared: "See trees with Daddy! Big trees!" I said "Ooh, great. Did you bring one home?" "No," said he. He wanted nothing to do with the tree. He didn't like when Mike came through the front door with it. He didn't like my cutting the plastic chicken wire off of it to fluff out the branches. And he didn't like when Lila crawled right over and pulled at the needles eagerly, the little traitor.

I sat down with him and asked him what was wrong.
Me: "Gage, you seem a little upset about the tree."
He: "Gage so sad! Gage so sad about the tree."
Me: "Why are you sad, sweetheart?"
He: (silence)
Me: "The tree is all right. It's pretty."
He: "Gage no yike da tree."
Me: "Why not?"
He: (sighing in a tiny, frustrated way) "It's in Gage's home."

Seriously, I can't fault him there. When you step back and really think about it, it *is* weird to have a tree in your home.

Me: "Maybe after we decorate it you'll like it a little better."
He: "No. No, Gage no yike it better. No."

So you can understand me when I say I did not have high hopes for the tree. Santa has already been shot down on multiple occassions. Gage is the tiniest grinch I've ever seen! (Granted, Mike would say this makes him like his Mama....)

But...once we began to decorate the tree his heart grew three sizes. He loved unwrapping each ornament, his fingers hastily tossing aside the magazine paper cradling every one. He opened a yellowy tan, inch-high Yuengling Lager can look-alike. "Soda!" he shouted. "Yes! That's right!" said his parents, exchanging a relieved look over his head. "Soda!"

He scratched the paper off a hand-painted moose (leftover from our first married Christmas - when we worked opposite shifts and I made meatloaf each and every Tuesday. Meatloaf Tuesday, actually, was what we called it. Complete with instant mashed potatoes and once-frozen peas drowning in butter. Mike always wanted real mashed. I insisted on instant, to complete the TV dinner feeling the meal demanded). "A moose!" I said. "No, a were-rabbit!" Gage countered. Thank you, Wallace and Gromit.

It took him only two tries to successfully hook a candy cane over a low branch. In another minute there were six candy canes on the very same branch. It was wavering, but it held. Also now he picks out Grandma's homemade cookies from the borrowed tin for me and DH and presents them to us with crisp dignity, saying "Mewwy Kissmas" each time. The little charmer.

Lila has started to really use her arms. In the last week she's gotten a lot better about picking up little foods and getting them into her mouth. She's not doing the pincer-grasp yet (thumb and forefinger) but she's getting what she wants. She also began throwing her arms in the air for 'so big!' and once today she clapped in imitation of me. She pulled up to vertical for the first time entirely unassisted. She's really strong, and really determined. She's awesome.

Sometimes when I need to entertain Gage I say: "Do you want to play a guessing game?" When he agrees I say something like "I'm thinking of a person in your family who's a baby. She has her own bedroom and eats oatmeal." and Gage says "Baby Yi-yah!" "Yes, Baby Lila." And we do another one. Well, we're sitting in a Thai restaurant in Rehoboth (more on that in a minute) and I say "I'm thinking of a member of your family who," I look at Mike, "is wearing an orange shirt with black stripes." Gage literally - *literally* tapped his chin and said "Hmm...." while we he thought and we waited. Finally he grinned and said: "A tiger!"

Ooh. So close, buddy. So close. But no, not a tiger. It was Daddy I was thinking of.

We went to Rehoboth Beach for the weekend - we had a wonderful time with my mom, sisters and aunt. Gage and Mike took several beach walks, just the two of them. Gage especially liked plucking small, smooth stones from the foamy sand. He pocketed his finds and presented them to me later, saying "Yook, Mommy! Yook. For you!"

The kids were great - we got a decent night's sleep in a hotel room (all four of us!) and everyone was on good behavior. Gage tried to fall asleep with his body halfway hanging off the bed, and we made him move - much to his disappointment. ("No, Gage want to fall off the bed!") And just before we left to come home we ate lunch in our favorite Thai restaurant.

It was touch-and-go in the beginning. Lila frantically nursed like a starved hyena (inject a more eloquent description in there if you want - I'm just being honest) and then cried because she was too tired and full to fall asleep. Gage started to whine and complain and our waiter started to look like he regretted letting us in in the first place.

By the way, this is what it sounds like when I'm trying to entertain Gage and he refuses to be entertained:

Me: "I know! I'll sing. Row, row, row your boat...."
He: (writhing in mock pain) "No! No, don't row my boat!"

At the peak of the misery Mike bounced Lila in just the perfect magic way and she fell asleep - amazingly. I played games with Gage and ordered our lunch, and Gage began to calm down. Our waiter brought Satay to start and Gage turned into a perfect little angel, eating bite after bite of chicken, saying it was so good. Mike and I, armed with Thai beer and a G&T, began to relax and enjoy our meal.

Turns out Gage loves Thai food! He ate a big, excellent lunch, as did Mike and I. The waiter even brought us free desert, so he must not have been in too big of a hurry for us to go.

Both babies slept for most of the drive home, which was nice. Mike and I listened to the same eight songs for the entire drive - the three hours down, the whole time we were in DE and the three hours back up. We thought vaguely that it may have been some kind of record. But they were eight *good* songs, at least.

I'll let you know how Christmas goes.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

2007-12-13T01:11:00.001-05:00

I know, I know. It's been far too long. I can assure you that I'm still here and still having daily insecure lows and joyful highs, as would any parent, any day, I imagine. Only the last few weeks my lows and highs have been rather...unremarkable. Or very remarkable, but boring all the same.

Big change: Mike started a new job. That part rocks. He's a lot happier already, after two and a half weeks, but he's also making more money and doing something he's interested in and for which he has a natural talent. Go Mike. You kick ass.

But his new job is throwing off my schedule. And the kids' schedules. And it's no fun. Gage has been either skipping his nap or sleeping for a measly 30-45 minutes, which can do more damage than no nap at all. We have to leave the house now during his usual naptime (so I can drop the kids off and get to work), and he isn't inclined to go to bed any earlier. And Lila has been getting up every hour or two at night for a week. So. I'm pressing through - we'll figure it out - but it's hard right now.

I got bit by this 'you wouldn't have to trudge through this every day if you could stay home with your kids' bug. We totally can't afford to rely on one income; neither of us is highly paid by any stretch of the imagination. But maybe in a few months I can cut back my hours a little. We'll see. It's really nice to think about, anyway. I don't know whether I'd love being home more often or whether it would drive me crazy. I honestly don't know. But I want to find out.

And wow - Christmas is soon. Who knew!?

I just ordered our photo cards last night (embarrassed sigh). We're so behind. We did all of our shopping online, so I'm ahead in that respect. We didn't put up lights or get a tree or anything! I feel like we're the last people I know without a tree.

Another change: Gage is reliably sleeping in a 'big boy bed,' which is really his crib with the one side removed, and a couple of toddler rails to help keep him from falling out. I put a big folded blanket on the floor anyway, just in case. Sometimes he teases me that he's going to sleep there, on the floor, but he calls it "on the down." At least once a day he goes up there and lays in his bed for maybe 15 minutes, just to rest and snuggle with his blankie. I'll call him because I hear quiet from his room and he calls back "Gage sleepin' in my bed!"

Right now Gage is sick. He has a fever and a 'peeny pain' (ahem) of mysterious origin. It came on really quickly, like within a half hour he went from completely normal to 101F fever.

Lila ate avocado today for the first time. She loved it for about ten bites and then all of a sudden she H A T E D it.

Sometimes I ask Gage what he would pack in a picnic lunch and he always says "Two green peppers. Watermelon. And milk." Yesterday he pronounced the word 'sprinkles' like this: "Pesos." LOL. He woke up in the middle of the night a few days ago and I asked him if he had a bad dream. He said Yes and I asked him to tell me about it. He said "Big dinosaur roared! And Gage run away. Dinosaur chase me! Gage run superfast. Dinosaur stop running. Gage too fast." And he said it with wonder in his voice, as if he was surprised at his victory. Gage 1, Dinosaur 0 (But remember, Cookie Monster's at 1 as well.)

Lila had her six-month well-baby and she is in great health. She's 14 lbs, 15 oz. She looks *oh so* chubby to me. I love to press my lips into her peachy cheeks, and she grins every time I do. She has all these folds in her thighs - I love it. I can't get enough. Gage was always such a skinny little thing - I thought that was normal. Now that Lila is a more average weight she just seems like the pudgiest, milkiest little darling with a big round face.

I meant that last bit in the best way possible.

"Just walkin' on my shoes."

2007-11-23T00:10:00.001-05:00

Gage took a fairly nasty fall this week. He was standing on a dining room chair, reaching into a cupboard to pick out a snack (a 'Nack,' ahem) and his little socked foot slipped and he went down hard, smacking his head on another chair on his way to the floor.

I set Lila down on the floor as gently but quickly as I could manage, muttering "Oh, my God," something I can only remember doing one other time - when he fell off the front step and struck his forehead on the pavement.

I went to Gage, and he was silent. He was completely silent and still for a full two seconds, then he sprang into action - tears streaming, wails ensuing. Thank freaking goodness. Seriously.

I held him and rocked, which normally he cringes against - far too babyish for a big boy like Gage - and I whispered into his sweaty hair, willing him to feel better. Only a minute passed before his cries turned into words. Specifically, words sounding like 'Pick a nack! Pick a nack!" He picked a nack - some cheese crackers. And he immediately calmed, fingering the crackers, his voice plucking out the curious, pleased 'Oh!' to which we are so accustomed.

"Gage feel better," he said, turning to me. I'm sure I was ashen, my breath still coming in jerks, my heart still pounding.
"Good," I said. Stroking his head again. Still rocking.
"Mommy feel better?"
"Sure," I answered immediately. "Yes." I thought about it. "That was scary. When you fell."
"Yes."
"But you're okay. And I feel better."
"Gage feel better, too."

Again. Thank freaking goodness.

He cracked me up a couple of times this week. Once we were all over at my parents' house and Gage came trotting through the kitchen, where my mom and I were drinking tea.

My mom: "Hi, Gage. What are you doing?"
Gage: "Just walkin' on my shoes."

My mom and I were practically snorting with laughter, exchanging a look that meant 'He *does* have a point.'

He said another funny thing to my mom this week. He was cheerfully talking about all the work he was going to do (we're big into work right now, any kind of tools). He was talking about hammering nails and sawing wood.

My mom said: "What else are you going to do?"
Gage's expression turned to disappointed and wistful, and he said in a tiny voice: "Gage so sad. Gage no can walk up the wall."

I'm turning beet red, I'm sure, trying not to bust out giggling and my mom manages to say, in a voice fairly unbroken with laughter, "That's not something you need to feel sad about, Gage. No one can walk up walls."

Let me tell you, though. It doesn't stop him from trying.

Mike and I took the kids shopping a few nights ago. We went to Babies R Us and then we were going to run into an adjacent store for a few minutes. I realized I'd forgotten the one thing we went to Babies R Us for - a childproofing cabinet lock - even though we had a bag full of stuff when we left. I don't know how that happens, but it happens. (Plus, Lila has adorable sparkly black Christmas shoes now.) So I ducked back into Babies R Us and Mike went ahead with the kids.

Of course, as soon as I was alone my first thought was 'I could drive away.' It's so ridiculous, how I have these little kids and a great husband, and I'm really happy with my life, but it's so *busy* all the time. As soon as I have a moment to myself, and the keys in my hand, this dark little ticklish spot in my brain starts teasing me. 'Here's your chance, Jen. By the time he figures out you're gone you'll be miles away.'

Where would I go? Home? What would I do? Take a nap? I don't even *want* to sneak away, in all honesty. It's just that when I have a moment like that - no one watching me, no sticky little hands to hold, quiet - that tiny, dark part of my brain yells 'You fool! Run, run while you can!'

So of course I bought the cabinet lock, went into the next store and found my darling family. As soon as Gage stuck his sticky little hand in mine I knew I'd been right all along. And when Lila started wailing, Gage broke away with a fistful of goldfish crackers and Mike couldn't decide which coatrack was more 'us' I held it together.

By the way, if you buy a wicker hamper any time soon and there are goldfish crackers in the bottom of it - Gage Wuz There.

*****

I decided to get a tattoo. Of my kids' names. It's going to be simple, and I'll post a pic once it's done. I've never seriously considered a tattoo before, but this is totally right. There's no doubt about it, it's right.

This is a mushy one

2007-11-13T10:58:00.000-05:00

I've been having a bit of a tough time lately. I feel so unbelievably close to Gage that sometimes it seems as though it's me and Gage against the world. I feel sometimes like Gage and I are holding hands and stepping off a cliff together. He knows how I'm feeling by looking into my eyes. I don't know what it's about, but it feels a little dangerous to me. It makes me feel a little edgy, to be this deeply, this fundamentally attached to him in every way.

The other day when we were both beginning our colds and we were miserable I thought I could relax for a minute, but as soon as I sat down Lila stated to cry. I closed my eyes and I totally felt like I was going to lose it and I hear Gage say "I love you, Mommy. I'm so proud of you, Mommy." I smiled at him with tears in my eyes, but I was a little uncomfortable, too. He shouldn't need to worry about how I'm feeling. He's got enough to think about just being two. But we're so close, me and Gage. We have this vast connection that's thick and untouchable. It's equally thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Lila, on the other hand. I'm having heart-breaking issues with her, too. She's giving me trouble every night, because all she wants - all her little body craves - is to sleep next to me, pressed against me. When she nurses at night she's the happiest she could be. We lie down together, bellies touching, and she closes her eyes and makes happy little grunting sounds. Once in a while she opens her eyes, looks up at me and grins drunkenly. She slows down nursing more and more until she's just suckling a couple of times, then taking a break for several seconds, then suckling again. This is her paradise; all of her stars are aligned. Lila wants nothing more than this closeness, all night long.

But.

It's impossible for me to provide her that contact for long. I have lots of reasons, but there are a few that are always just below the surface. The evening is the only time Mike and I have together, and it's harder, of course, to spend time with him when I have a sleeping baby attached to my front. Also, I can't get over the tiny tugging in my brain that says "It's not best for either you or Lila to get in the habit of falling asleep together every night, all night."

But oh, how I wish it was. It breaks my heart to have to pull her off and put her down in her (comparatively) chilly crib all by herself. Gage was always a great independent sleeper. Lila just never has been. And it's so ingrained in her that she knows what she wants, this is a nightly battle.

I'm sure that if we did sleep together she'd be soaring with pleasure and neither of us would really wake much in the night, except to stir a little when she got hungry. But since she's in the crib she wakes often, hungry for not milk, but my warm body.

I had a lot of expectations about parenting, but I didn't know that part of helping them grow up, helping them to learn how to get along in your family would be such an every-day battle. I have no problem telling Gage a hundred and seventeen times to put his milk on a coaster. I have a big problem telling Lila to sleep alone, when it's clear to me that all her little being wants, all her mind, heart, stomach and body wants is to press against her mama all night long.

"It's dark and we're wearing sunglasses."

2007-11-12T22:03:00.000-05:00

This week was a long one. Gage and I were both sick for a solid Monday through Sunday, which, in my opinion, is a little excessive for a cold. Lila was sniffly but not *sick* (thank goodness). In between coughing, medicating and wiping noses we managed to have a few good times.

On Thursday I was sitting at the dining room table, Lila was on her belly on the floor near my feet and Gage was walking from the living room to me. I kind of thought I saw out of the corner of my eye Gage step on Lila's back, but I couldn't be sure. I said, "Gage, what just happened?" and he answered in this really cheerful, guilt-free voice, "Gage step on Baby Yi-yah!" So yeah. He stepped on her. But Gage is Lila's hero, so all that happened was that Lila grinned at him. I wipe her nose and she screams for five solid minutes. Gage *steps* on her *back* and she grins at him.

One big success this week was that Gage had his first public poop on the potty. We all went to Mike's sister's home for a visit and that's where he did the deed. The only part that was a little awkward was that we had to do Gage's poop-on-the-potty ritual in front of other people. The ritual includes, but is not limited to, singing, clapping and the lighting of a candle that Gage gets to blow out. It's actually pretty complicated stuff. And not the kind of thing you want to do in front of lots of people, LOL.

This morning I took the kids to a friend's house for a four-mom rotating playgroup we do once a week. There are seven kids in all - four boys Gage's age and three babies, two of whom are girls. Gage very politely asked the hosting mom for goldfish crackers and she brought him a little dish of them. So the moms are sitting around chatting and the boys are playing. All of a sudden the hosting mom is half-laughing, half-scolding Gage. I look over at him and he has a plastic hammer in his hand. He's taking the crackers out of the bowl one at a time and placing them carefully on the coffee table. Then...WHAM! Cracker crumbs everywhere. He must have smashed about twenty goldfish before my friend caught him. And the mom - she's so cool - she's like, "That's why I have a dog. And a vacuum."

Lila can no longer be trusted in the bouncy seat, and maybe not even the swing. She does a sit-up and could totally lean to one side and fall out now. She's such a big girl! We have to pack up her baby equipment and move onto the next stage.

She started to cry when we were on our way to playgroup today and Gage looked over at her and said exactly this: "I know, Baby Yi-yah. We'll be there in a few seconds." My little man.

He's also started to say "I think" before or after (and sometimes before *and* after) sentences. (Except it sounds like 'I Fink.') Like:

Me: "Eat this bite of pasta."
He: "No, too hot."
Me: "It's not too hot."
He (grudgingly): "I fink it's too hot. I fink."

or, while I'm driving us to the grocery store at night:
He: "Gage need my sundasses please."
Me: "You don't need sunglasses, it's too dark."
He: "I fink I need them."
Me: "Fine, here they are."
I drive for another minute.
Me: "Gage, do you see that tractor?"
He: "No! Where? It's too dark!"
I mean, I don't want to say 'I told you so,' but....

That's a funny thing about toddlers. Sometimes they're really reasonable, for a long time, and then all of a sudden they jerk the rug out from under you and you remember that really they're just tiny little kids. Like the other day he was such a good companion to me. He was really sweet all morning, and cooperative and conversational. I was brought back to reality from this exchange:

He: "Really good soup, Mommy." (see what I'm saying? How sweet is that?)
Me: "Thank you, Gage. That's a nice thing to say."
He: "Color with markers on paper?"
Me: "Sure. What color paper do you want?"
He: "Sam has ears."
There's the D'oh moment. I was like, "Oh, riiiight. You're two." Not to mention...thanks, Captain Obvious. Most dogs do have ears.

No Pooping Evermore

2007-11-04T16:27:00.000-05:00

Lila didn't poop for six days. Thank goodness she finally pooped this morning, or the tone of this post would be entirely different. The downside of six days of no poop: (1) Prune juice by the spoonful. (2) Last-ditch attempt involving a thermometer and lots of screaming. The upside: We started Lila on homemade applesauce, and she *loves* it.

Does this look like a constipated baby to you? This is day four. And no, I didn't purposefully style her hair that way. Although I would have if I'd thought of it.

Speaking of poop, I have a problem with Gage. Every time I put him down for a nap or nighttime he has to be reassured in the following manner:

He: "Jackson (his cousin) no go poo-poo in my bed."
Me: "No way. Not gonna happen."
He: "No go poo-poo in my clean bed."

So of course I'm thinking, "Where on earth did he get *this* crazy idea?" and the only person who comes to mind is YOU, Sean. YOU. What have you done to my kid? Yeah. Thanks for that.

Gage is still happily embracing the phrase "My byself" but has added another charmer into the mix: "Evermore." It seems to be a cross between 'anymore' and 'ever again.' Like when I tried to give him steamed asparagus the other day. In his (L-less) words:

"No yike dis apadadus. No yike dis evermore."

Mike's take: "It's like we're living with The Raven." LOL

I had this totally passive-aggressive exchange with Mike the other day - it was priceless. We were kind of arguing - not *fighting* but that kind of neutral-toned: "How silly of me. I thought I asked you to take the garbage out, but here it sits." So I was a little ticked at him, but not enough to make a big deal out of it. I'm in the kitchen making Irish Soda Bread (cursing the full garbage can, if you can imagine) and Gage is 'helping.' He asks me if he can hold some eggs. With a flash of inspiration, I tell him, "Sure." I give him two eggs - one for each hand - and I say "Why don't you go show Daddy what you have?"

O.M.G. SO worth the risk of raw egg on the carpet. Gage toddles up the stairs and finds Mike changing Lila's diaper in her room.

Gage: "Look, Daddy! Eggs!"
Mike: "Wow, Gage. Wait, are those real eggs? Did your mama give you real eggs? Are you being very careful with those? You have to be VERY careful with those eggs."
Me: (snorting back laughter in the kitchen)
Gage: "TWO eggs, Daddy. Two of 'em."

It was hysterical. As is this picture:

Gage has definitely inherited his dad's indeciciveness. When I met Mike I used to get so mad at him. We'd go to, like, a diner and he would look at the menu for twenty minutes before deciding. I'd flip open the menu, skim it, and say "Great. Coffee and french toast." Mike would D R A G the process out until I was half-starved and the waitress was rolling her eyes at the prospect of giving us "Just one more minute." He just *couldn't* decide. I fairly quickly learned to prep him on the way to the restaurant. "What are you hungry for? Maybe you should decide now." LOL

So now that Gage had a small bag of Halloween candy it's the same thing all over again. He gets one, *maybe* two pieces per day. But the effort put forth is ridiculous. He dumps the candy out in a pile.

He: (touching one piece, then the next.) "Hmm...."
Me: "How about the M&Ms?" (which, incidentally, he charmingly calls 'Emens.')
He: "No thanks." (touching more pieces, just barely brushing them with his fingertips.)
Clock: "Tick. Tick. Tick."
He: "Pretzels!" (grabbing the little bag.)
Me: "Great! You love pretzels! Let's put the rest back for next time."
He: "Nooo.... No pretzels." (Starts touching the treats all over again.)
Me: "How about Smarties? Perfect! Smarties are awesome!"
He: "No thanks. No Marties."
Me: (Seething internally)

I swear this can take a full five minutes. Thank goodness it's a *small* bag.

BTW, We still have "Crash" out from NetFlix. Seriously, should we watch it?

24-Pound Penguin

2007-10-28T22:30:00.000-04:00

Netflix! You're killing me! I'm supposed to *save* money, not spend it! I've had Crash (Which I know I should watch, but I simply can't commit the *time*) for weeks.... I'm sure you understand...some things are important but you just can't prioritize them in front of "...or I could just sit here. And *not* watch 'Crash' for the next two hours."

Anyway. This week here's what happened:

Gage began the next-infamous catch phrase "My byself." As in:

"Gage, Let me give you some yogurt."

"No, Gage do it my byself."

Whatever, dude. Go ahead. Do it "Your byself."

Also, we went Trick-or-Treating. Thanks, Steph, for braving the torrential downpour. Yes, I said torrential.

It's not the easiest thing in the world to walk through the dark, pouring rain, carrying an umbrella, a 24-pound penguin and a sopping wet bag of candy. (Because of course *he* wasn't foolish enough to wade through all the puddles. He was clever enough to demand a ride.)

A kindly, elderly lady handed a Tootsie-pop to Gage. I'm thinking "Here's a chance for me to prove what a good job I've done teaching Gage manners. We've gone over this a hundred times. Here comes the old 'please' and 'thank you.'"

Me: "What do you say?"

He: Watching elderly lady with an obvious light in his eyes. "Put the lollypop in da bag."

Me: (smacking forehead) "D'oh!"

But all in all, things are going well. Gage learned to scale the tall side of the couch. Which, upon Mike's and my discovering, we requested he repeat 567 times. So he should sleep well tonight, anyway. But he never tires of "Where's Gage? Here I am! Comin' up the couch!" Wiry little devil.

Lila is totally up in the crawling position. I'll have to post a pic, although the only one we have is totally out-of-focus (Thanks, Mike. Not pointing any fingers, but, you know... There *is* a focus feature. Just sayin.').... Heck. I'll post it anyway. You'll like it.

And...she started solids! She's finally eating cereal and bananas. We'll see how that goes (read: So far...not well. Have I mentioned how much *laundry* I've done today!?) ....

And I had an all-out argument with Gage today. You'd really think an adult would be above that ('cause that's what I am now, right?), but no. Not so much.

Me: (collecting Gage from playing at cousin Jackson's house.) "We have to leave now."

He: "O-tay. Bring dis home." (confidently holding a tiny black pick-up truck that belongs to Jackson)

Me: "No. That belongs to Jackson."

He: (after careful consideration) "No. Gage bring home."

Me: "Nooo. Jackson has toys that stay at Jackson's house. Gage has toys for Gage's house."

He: "Nooooo. Gage no toys. Jackson toys. Gage no toys."

Me: "Right. You've got no toys. You poor, poor thing."

Does my cynisism know no bounds!? Hoping *someday* that will change....

There you go

2007-10-20T16:46:00.000-04:00

I wanted to tell you a couple of the funny things Gage has done lately.

He's been a real comedian these days.

If I ask Gage to do something he tells me that he has too much to do. I'll be, like, "Gage, get your shoes, we're going to the store." He'll say: "Gage lots to do," hop on his tricycle and ride away.

"Time for your bath."

"Gage lots to do."

And the tricycle. He's been 'going to work' all week. He kisses Lila on the head, hugs her around the neck and says "Goin' to work!" then he climbs on the tricycle, tells Lila "Drive safe!" and rides away. After he rides around a little bit he comes over to me and says "Gage work at Jackson's houes (his cousin). Gage saw wood, Jackson hammer nails!" and the whole process starts over again. It's too funny.

Last weekend Mike and I took the kids to Newhope. We ate lunch in our favorite restaurant, Mother's. It never seems like it's going to work with the kids, but they always make it work because they rock. We try hard to stay on top of Gage's behavior, because the last thing we want is for them to remember us and be mysteriously booked next time we're in town, LOL. So, whenever we're eating out and Gage raises his voice I talk to him real softly and say "All of these people are eating their dinners. They like to have things a little quiet while they're eating. We need to use a quiet voice in the restaurant." He squealed loud a couple of times at lunch today and I said, "Gage, what are these people doing?" and he sighed all dramatically and said in this really bored voice, "Eating. Quiet voice." At least something is getting through! I joked to Mike, "Another 897 times and I think he's got it."

And the other night we heard a strange noise in the house and Gage looked at me all wide-eyed.

He: "Hear that sound?"

Me: "Yes. What do you think it was?"

He: "Cookie Monster opening my door in my room."

Poor kid! He just can't get the damn Cookie Monster to leave him alone.

Today we went to a fall festival and there was a huge sandbox with lots of metal trucks - tranctors and dump trucks and diggers. Gage had a blast playing with them. They also had a couple of those big plastic climb-ons, you know, with the slides and tunnels and stuff. There was one that was like an RV and Gage, who is usually pretty shy about playing with other kids, was being fairly brave about sharing his space. At one point he and another little girl, probably about five years old, were in the back of the little RV and Gage was ready to climb out. He says, and I swear this is exactly how it happened, "Excuse me. Coming through." She moved a step away to give him room. Gage touched her lightly on the back, like to thank her, and said "There you go," before walking by her. I almost lost it. He's such a sweet kid, it drives me nuts.

I feel guilty for not having much to say about Lila.

She's doing awesome. She's almost five months old now. Typically she only gets up once a night, which is great, and sleeps for six hours before and six hours after that one time. Works for me. She's constantly on the move when she's on the floor - she isn't *crawling* yet but she's definitely moving. She rolls both ways and creeps on her belly, so she can move a good couple of feet every few minutes. She knows her mind, too. She loves to play with baby toys (Gage never did...?) but if she drops it, MAN does she go from happy to miserable quickly. She's laughing a lot now, too, which is charming. She loves to have her belly kissed (but, really, who doesn't? Oops - TMI)....

Second Guessing

2007-10-04T23:53:00.000-04:00

You know what I said to Gage today? I siad: "It's okay with me if you want to cry. But I'm going to close your door because I don't want to hear it."

It felt like totally the right thing. And it *was* totally the right thing. He was wailing and complaining and I was tired of it. If you want to know, he pulled himself together within the minute after I said that to him and we both walked out of his room cheerful as can be.

But it's times like this when you wonder how you got so mean. So heartless. What happened between then and now? What happened to the skinny girl with long hair in those pictures from just five years ago? She would have held that little boy close to her heart and steadfastly hung on to the repeated: "Let it out. It's okay."

She never would have grown tired of the 'I was sleeping...and I was awakened...and I wasn't ready to be....' (which actually comes out as: "Aaaaargh. Uuugh. Maaaaaw," when he's crying).

Besides, if my husband said that to me..."I'm going to close your door because I don't want to hear it." I would freak out. I would wonder what I ever saw in the guy in the first place.

Parenting takes nerves, boy. There's no two ways around that.

But then there are the times that you can see it's really paying off. He accidentally ran his tricycle over Lila's hand today. She didn't even cry, but he hopped off the bike, kissed her on the head, hugged her around the neck and said: "I'm sorry, Yi-yah."

All by himself. And that was cool.

I know what you mean, now, about lying awake at night wondering if you made the right choices. And it's a cycle, really, because who knows!? Tomorrow it'll be something else.

Beautiful Day

2007-09-29T01:39:00.000-04:00

Last week my mom took Gage for a walk around my neighborhood. He said something to her that she could not quite make out.

She asked him to repeat himself and he said: "Beautiful day. Not rainin' outside."

What a little man! When did this happen!?

He's also been sharing his (very prized) blankie with Lila lately. He'll spread it out on the couch very carefully, then tell me to put her down on it. It's so terribly sweet. Of course after maybe ten seconds he says "O-Tay. Mommy pick up Yi-yah." So I pick her up and he whips the blankie away and stalks off to more private pastures. But we're getting there.

Introduction

2007-09-18T01:05:00.000-04:00

This is my first blog. I'm not really sure what I'm doing, but I want to give it a try. I'm 27 years old, married, I live in PA. My name's Jen. I have two kids: Gage, who is just over two years old and Lila, who is almost four months. And they're so funny, and they do things that make me think, and it's wrong to not write them down. So.... Hi.

My son, Gage, was born in July of 05. He's an incredibly sweet kid. I've never met anyone like him. He has what I guess is best described as a Sunny Disposition, although I wasn't sure that phrase really meant anything until I needed to use it just now. It's one of those things that you hear but you don't really believe, like Love at First Sight. But Gage is a totally great person even though he's only two.

Have you ever tried to convince a skinny kid to eat? I think I've figured out a couple of tricks. Gage has always been small, and we're always on the lookout for ways to cram more calories in him. Here are a couple of things that almost always work.

* Feed him his dinner from chopsticks. For whatever reason food coming off chopsticks - directly into his mouth - is much tastier than food coming from a normal, every-day fork. Forks. Pshaw.

* Put powdered milk in an old, cleaned-out garlic salt shaker. Whenever you sit down to dinner and you are shaking real garlic salt on your food give your kid his own 'special spice' that he can shake on his food. It's messy, sure, but he eats.

* Give him whatever foods you can in liquid form. Yogurt and fruit in a smoothie. Cream soups. Make chewing inconsequential. I embrace my toddler's old man-nerisms.

So my daughter. Lila. She is so neat - she's strong and beautiful and she always, always sticks her tongue out for pictures. Secretly, I hope she knocks that off soon. But she's a really happy baby, which is something new to us. I don't want to jinx our incredibly sweet, easygoing toddler, but Gage was *not* a happy baby. Far from it. But that is a tale for another day. What you need to know now is that we're so enjoying a plump, cheerful baby.

Lila was born in May of 07 and she's just beginning to figure out her surroundings. She's rolling all around and chewing on her clothes, toys and fists. She's a champion nurser.

Me? I have a job in financial planning and am able to work partially from home, which means that I can spend a lot of time around my kids and we don't need to do daycare. I love that I get to spend so much time with my little ones but once in a while it's a relief to be in the office. Around adults. You know. My husband Mike works in a pretty physical job so he's worn out by the end of the day but he's a great dad, always very interested and very in tune with them.

Let's see...what happened this week? Gage was playing in the backyard in a pile of stones, using a shovel to transfer rocks from the pile to our for-real spaghetti colander (Why, Mike? Why?). I was sitting in the shade of a tree with Lila on my lap and an insulated mug of black coffee within reach. (It *was* the morning, after all.) I heard our neighbor's 22-year-old son revving his car engine and Gage heard it, too. He looked around worridley, picked up his toy phone from next to his abandoned construction hat a few feet away and said into the phone: "Hi. Name's Gage. Big funder (thunder, ahem). Noisy. No hurt you. Bye! Yuv you!" And he tosses the phone aside. He cracks me up - the way you can just watch them figure things out. I mean, you can just *see* it.

He's almost completely potty-trained (Go, Gage!) he just wears diapers at night. On the rare occassion that he has an accident he freezes and looks at me, says: "It happens. It happens sometimes."

When something isn't quite right he says: "Oh, goodness."

He says his sister's name like this: "Yi-yah."

When something is exactly the way he wants it: "Perfect." He'll dump out a pile of blocks, balance one just so on the top of the otherwise-seeming avalanche and utter it quietly: "Perfect."

He steps on our dog's ribcage to get up onto the couch.

He doesn't seem jealous of Lila at all. When he gets a toy for himself he also gets one for Lila. He *needs* to kiss her goodnight before he goes to bed. So far, so good on that front. Siblang Rivalry: 0, Gage: 1.

So far, the hardest part of having two kids is physically getting out of the house. Carrying Lila in her (heavy!) carseat, carrying a diaper bag, my keys, holding Gage's hand, getting everyone in the car without Gage, giggling, running around to the other side of the car as a joke. Ha. Worse is coming home with *anything*.... A cup of coffee, a bag of groceries. Screw it. Just stay in the car until help arrives.

But really, other than that, and the whole lack-of-sleep thing, it's been great. We're taking it one day at a time. What I'm going to do is save up a couple of things to write about each week, and then I'm going to write about them. I hope it makes someone - other than myself - laugh.