Babyhood Falling Away

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

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

A Few Misunderstandings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!