Manners Police

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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)

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.