Four by Four

Today is my son's fourth birthday.

How the time flies.

Before our very eyes he is turning into a little kid. Not so much the toddler anymore. Certainly not the baby he used to be, but of course he will always be my baby.

While it has been a while since I have regularly posted, not so much has changed with our little guy. Last year I wrote that he was fast, furious and fun. Those still stand true today. Of course he is many other things as well.

He is full of energy and enthusiasm. So much so that I often get tired just watching him. And I am always tired trying to keep up with him.

He is in one moment quiet and shy, stuck to my side, and the next waving to me as he runs by to keep up with all the big kids.


He is entirely too demanding. But I guess that is part of being young and innocent. He has no knowledge that things won't just appear in front of him the second that he asks for them. And if you ask me he'll have plenty of time to learn the value of hard work later on in life.

He is more loving than I have ever known a small child to be. There are the more overt shows of affection, like when he comes running up to me at school pick up with a big smile and throws his arms around me. But some of my favorite loving moments are those that are least expected. Like when he was watching the birthday candles on his cake burn and I bent down to be next to him while we sang Happy Birthday. He saw me right there and just impulsively turned to face me and put both hands on my cheeks and pulled my face into his so we were nose to nose with big smiles on our faces. It was like he couldn't help but do it. And I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with warmth inside. His love is truly palpable at times.

It goes without saying that his smile still fills my heart with joy. His laugh is still the most precious thing in my world.

And he is still the most challenging little bundle of energy and love in my life.

So here are my birthday wishes for my son this year.

May you always have the energy to face all of life's challenges head
on, never regretting that you could have done more.

May you always remember your roots and appreciate your foundation, but
never feel too shy to get out and explore what the world has to offer.

May you always demand the most, expect the best, and know that you deserve it all.

May you always show and share your love with those that make you happy, and
know that it will come back to you many times over if your heart stays
genuine.

Happy birthday my littlest love.

The Fast, The Furious, and The Fun

Today is my son's 3rd birthday.

Over the past year he has proven true to his place in the family. The only boy. The youngest of three. Our little prince.

His nature is to be fast, furious and fun.

Everything he does, he does fast. Either he has no patience or he's really in a hurry to move to the next thing. Or both. Whatever the reason, he's remarkably fast. And by that I mean that many people - outside our family - have made remarks about it. From the time he first walked, he started running. And when he ran, he did so at a speed that made people ask me how old he was. His speed often works to his advantage. He can edge out his big sisters in a foot race. And if he's not winning he'll just push them out of the way so that he will win. Did I mention that he's competetive too? What I've come to realize is that we really need a huge room that's completely padded with things to jump off of and into in our house. He really digs that. Too bad for his forehead we don't have that to offer.

Like most two year olds, he has shown his furious side. He can tantrum better than his two sisters by far. He turns on the waterworks, stomps a foot or two, and demands that he gets his way. But I do like to think, when he throws his whole body on the floor and screams, that he is cuter than most two year olds. So at least he's got that going for him. And he's be a bit smarter too, if I do say so myself. He knows exactly when things aren't going to go his way, because he'll often throw in a "pllllleeeeeeeeaase?" and throw himself at my legs just before the eruption. But the plus side of turning three is that he's getting much better at his time-outs. He's learning to face the consequences like a man.

Of course, if you've ever met him, it goes without saying that he is fun. But I'll say it anyway. His imagination has hints of five and eight year olds running through it as he tries to keep up with the big kids. He'll tell jokes that make no sense, he'll dance a little hip hop when the mood moves him, and he always cracks himself up with the word "poop" or any variation thereof. He can get a smile so big that sometimes I feel like I could lose myself inside it. And his laugh is so amazing I truly wish I could bottle it. It brings tears to my eyes knowing that I might not hear it so much one day. At least not with so much gusto and lack of self-consciousness.

Our little guy has one big personality. There's no mistaking it, he's here to live life to the fullest.

So here's my birthday wish to you this year, my son.

May you always use your speed to your advantage, but never forget to slow down and appreciate all that surrounds you, including those that you might be passing by.

May you never stop expecting the most, demanding the best, and wanting it all.

May you never forget that life is fun, and should always be so. Keep your sense of humor and your love for life and you will always be able to laugh with abandon.

Happy Birthday buddy.

Sweetening the Deal

Time flies, blogosphere friends.

I think I've finally found something lower on the totem pole than my husband.

Wink, wink, hubby.

For the past couple of weeks I have been struggling with drop-offs for my son. Two mornings a week he goes to a very informal preschool that is run out of our athletic club daycare. And one additional morning we go to the child care center at the club so I can exercise. So three times a week I was being ripped apart as I literally scraped my child off of me and handed him, in all his tear-stricken and snotty glory, over to some very sweet ladies.

One day at the preschool drop off I walked in and another child there was already in tears. So the teacher sort of had her hands full. Plus, let's just say that this teacher is not well-trained in the art of smooth transitions for toddlers. She has a hard time taking control of the situation and often just let's it all play out while she sort of watches. And at times sips her coffee.

Okay, I said it was "very informal", remember? It's just a temporary solution for us until the fall. And she's very sweet and otherwise does a great job.

But that morning I finally got fed up with feeling like I was just dumping my kid on to this teacher and not getting much support with the transition process. I felt like she was starting to dread it when she saw us walk in. So I went down to the day care center office and told them to send someone down there to help her. And I mentioned that she could use someone to show her the ropes when it comes to this stuff.

The next time we were due at school I was driving there thinking that I was going to pull him out of their program. He had a bit of an easier time just going to the day care center, albeit that was starting to get a bit worse too if I had to admit it. But they were much better at moving him through it and using the art of distraction. Plus they offered some more TLC too.

We walk into the school room and he starts to protest me leaving as we open the door. And then the teacher comes over and says "I brought you a surprise! Remember what I said I would bring? Some new books!". Books had often been something we brought with us to help him transition and they were a great tool for the teacher to get him to move on after I left. But this time she sprung them on him right away. And they were "new". That means new to him. And they were about trucks no less. Score one for the teacher.

He went right over to her and got in her lap to read.

I can't express how great this was for me. Of course it was better for him too. But really, I was about out of patience with this whole thing and was worried I'd be in for another long haul with this child, after having finally conquered this whole process with our younger daughter.

But after that nice surprise I decided we'd stick this out a bit longer and see what happened. Now this was on a Wednesday, and his next day back to school wasn't until Monday. That's quite a few days to forget about the new books waiting for him at school.

Come Monday, to help ease the transition even more, I decided to sweeten the deal. Literally. I put two little pieces of candy in his pocket when I sent him in to school. We put them in there as we got out of the car, and he was really excited to see what they were. He even felt the outside of his pocket in anticipation. But he was good and waited until he went into the room before he reached in for the goods. By that time of course he had been greeted with a couple more new books, plus some that we brought, and he was good to go.

He didn't cry. Didn't whine. Didn't ask me not to go.

This is about as close as we get to him saying "don't let the door hit ya' on the way out mom."

The next day I did the same candy trick when I brought him to the child care center. And he went waltzing right in there, not a single protest.

The staff looked at me and commented that he did really well with that send off. Then I let them in on my sweet little secret. They all laughed and said "hey, whatever it takes".

Now we have repeated this process 6 times between both places and had great success every single time. The only exception was yesterday, when I sent him in to the classroom in pants without pockets.

Oops.

I didn't realize it until we got to the club and I was getting him out the car. So I handed the candies to him and he kept them in his hand. But apparently this just isn't good enough. He whined and asked me not to leave, all the while still clutching the candies that he'd apparently forgot about.

I had to hand him over to the teacher in a few tears. And the teacher, by the way, was resting on her laurels and didn't have any new books. But thankfully we brought a couple, and I told him, as I was walking out the door, to show his teacher what color of candy he had that day. This seemed good enough, as he was discussing strawberry and orange flavors and was rather content by the time I left.

Apparently, like most men, he likes a bit of a challenge. He must hunt and conquer. If it's just handed to him it doesn't taste nearly as sweet.

Whatever it takes.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Last week my husband and I decided to surprise our kids with a trip to Disneyland during the Spring Break week.

And surprised they were.

"Oh my God!" our oldest kept saying. Even with our insisting she say "goodness", she was just too beside herself to adhere to the rules of etiquette. "I can't believe we are going to Disneyland tomorrow!" she exclaimed. And our younger daughter stated "that's the best surprise EVER."

Perhaps we should have just stayed in that blissful state and not actually gone on the trip.

Nah.

So we packed ourselves in the car and made the 8 hour trip down South. Of course not before some last minute panicking to move the trip departure up one day due to some expected rains in Anaheim. But we did make it out of the house at 8am and we were in the Disneyland park before 4pm.

Not bad for our brood.

That first afternoon was a little bit hellish. We were overwhelmed by it all and didn't know where to start. But after lots of sugar snacks and finally getting our oldest on a ride we were all off and running.

We hit as many rides and attractions as we could squeeze into 17 hours in that park. Our 2nd day was by far the most productive as we took on the "divide and conquer" approach and got our oldest on plenty of rides and roller coasters, while keeping the younger ones happy with repeat visits to Buzz Lightyear's ride.

So long as you don't mind eating fried, greasy, sugary or fatty foods and standing in line for about half of your allotted park time (with and without the kids, for your own sanity) then I think you could really spend more time at that park then we allowed. We didn't get to a lot of the rides that would have been fun to visit, but then again, there's always next time.

A couple of the wildest rides for our family took place after we left the park and went back to our hotel. Remember how I mentioned our last minute change to leave a day early? Well that led to us only being able to book a smoking room at our hotel, lest we stay at a different hotel or lose one night's deposit.

Mental note if that ever happens again: we'll just stay at a different hotel and/or lose the money.

Upon walking up to our room our oldest found the right number and said "There it is! But why does it say "smoking" under the number?" I then try to set realistic expectations and say "well it's a room where they allow people to smoke so it will probably smell a little bit..." and then my husband pipes in and says "now we don't know that it'll be bad so don't put that in their heads..." and then we open the door.

"Jesus Christ! That's disgusting!" my husband exclaims. Way to go daddy. Nice management of the expectations.

Immediately I plug in the air freshener that I brought and start burning candles. While we are all adjusting to the overpowering smell and trying to keep in mind that the room really is clean, even if it doesn't smell like it, our daughters start fighting about who gets the sofa bed. Even with a queen size hide-a-bed, the girls don't want to share. Our benevolent middle child volunteers to sleep on cushions on the floor. Meanwhile our son is doing the same thing in the bedroom where we will sleep.

After a brief episode of tears from our younger daughter, while she says over and over "I want to go home", we finally get them all to sleep.

Overtired is understated.

In the morning we all shower and get out of that stinky room as fast as possible. We pack up, leave our stuff at the front desk in anticipation of our non-smoking room for that night, and head to breakfast. As we are leaving the hotel I try to pump everyone into a good mood by saying "Okay guys, today is all about fun. Today is happy happy joy joy! Right!?" and a guy walking past us just smirks as he sees our small army make our way to the land of Mickey.

After a long day of crazy fun, our next wild ride was still ahead of us as we got back to the hotel that night. Again, it was a long, exhausting and overstimulating day, so we were really happy to enter our clean room, that even smelled clean this time.

We start to settle in and I decide to partake in the chocolate chip cookies that the hotel gave us when we checked in. My oldest grabs one and takes a bite, but then says "Yuck! It has nuts!" and puts it down. But my younger two and I decide that the nuts are okay and we munch away.

Almost immediately my son says his upper lip hurts. I figure he must have bit it and I pretty much blow it off, trying to offer him some juice to get his mind off it.

He then says "That doesn't help....see? {insert long sip here} It still hurts!"

Then he starts to really cry. I'm not real sure what's up with him, but I figure he must just be overtired.

Then I see that his upper lip is starting to swell. And the tears won't stop. Then the drool starts running down his chin. When I say "where does it hurt?" he just points to his throat.

Uh-oh.

I now alert the husband and we bring him into the bathroom where I can get a good look at him.

Since my son has so much saliva that's building up in his mouth because he's avoiding swallowing, he can't help but inhale some while he's crying. Which then brings on the gagging. And his upper lip is only getting bigger.

Now panic sets in. I tell my husband that I think he's having a reaction to something. He goes and gets the cookie wrapper and says there are walnuts in the cookies.

Now you should know that my son eats nuts all the time. His favorite drug snack mix has peanuts in it. He's addicted to the stuff.

But then I realize that I don't think he's ever had walnuts. We have a nut mix at home that he eats too, but he sticks to the cashews mostly. And that mix, to the best of my recollection, doesn't have walnuts.

My husband then says "I'm not messing around with this" and he picks up the phone and calls 9-1-1. He explains to the dispatch operator what's going on, making it clear that our son can breathe fine, as evidenced by the persistent crying. But since his lips are getting bigger and the gagging is also persisting, they send out the Calvary.

Then the manager of the hotel meanders up to our room, apparently alerted that we called 911. I tell him the scenario and together we walk down to the lobby with my son to meet the ambulance.

But much to my delight, we are greeted in the lobby by a full size fire truck. Lights spinning, sirens blaring.

By this time my son has calmed down and is in awe of the big fire truck. And I'm feeling a little silly for all of this fuss when he seems to now be getting better, not worse.

Three fire men and a medic come in and take a look at my son.

So you see, it's just another ordinary day for me, hanging out in the lobby of a hotel with a bunch of young fire men.

In the end, he was fine. Lungs were clear and no hives. Just seriously fat lips and a light rash on his face. And of course the throat thing, which seemed to subside pretty fast after he calmed down.

And while all this was going on I couldn't help but think that I always knew our first call to 911 would be because of our son. I just figured it would be because of something he did, not because of something we had any hand in.

The medic offered a shot of benedryll, but I remembered that we had some antihistamine in the room, so we just went back up and gave him some drugs.

It did take about 12 hours for his lips to go back to normal. But the next day, including the car ride home, was relatively uneventful.

And returning to our smoke-free, walnut-free, line-free, low-sugar, high-comfort home after all that craziness was what I would definitely call happy happy joy joy.

Sweet Dreams

As you may remember, we have had some difficulties and challenges in getting our youngest child to comply with our bedtime routines.

After we finally resorted to locking him in his room at bedtime last summer we had several months of good sleep. No, it's not inhumane. It helps him learn how to exercise self control. And it helps us not get furious.

Then just before the holidays last year he starting 'popping' again. Not at bedtime, since we were still keeping his door closed when he was putting himself to sleep. But this was now happening in the middle of the night. When we check on him before we go to bed we unlock his door and leave it cracked open. Which apparently became an invitation to come visit us at 2am. Or 3am. Or 5am. Or all of them.

Somehow we put up with this behavior for way too long. The holidays were busy...we didn't want to deal with middle of the night battles...we figured he'd outgrow it eventually. We had a lot of excuses.

Finally my husband took a trip out of town in February and I saw an opening. Since he was the one always getting up in the middle of the night to put our son back to bed, I decided this was an opportunity ripe for change.

And bribery.

So I busted out my party treasure chest full of two cent toys and told my child that he could pick a toy in the morning if he stayed in bed all night. And it worked. Well by the third night it was working.

And then we went back to square one after my husband got back. Not that it was his fault. But I had really been talking up the treasure chest when I was putting him down at night, and when my husband got back and put him to bed, which he often does, he wasn't building up the expectations quite so much. We were back to our nighttime visitor for a couple nights.

So I upped the ante. I wrapped up a bunch of little toys, some of them matchbox cars and others just junk toys, and I put them in a gift bag. I showed it to my son and told him he gets to pick a present out in the morning if he stays in bed all night. And I also set an alarm in his room and told him that he had to stay in bed until the music was playing. This last part didn't stick quite as well as the all night part. But not being woken up - at all - until 6:20am has it's benefits.

Voila. We were back to our peaceful nights.

Ah, what bliss. A full night of sleep.

And a pat on the back.

Although truth be told it took me another week before I could sleep past 5:30am which had become one of his more popular visiting hours.

The funny thing was that he didn't even like the presents after he picked them out in the morning. He'd open one up and whine about it. So then I let him pick one that was a car and he was a little happier. For a few mornings he picked out two toys, one a car and the other a trinket. And he'd complain every time. Even about the car. But we'd stick to the one he got and bring it with us downstairs. After his morning chocolate milk fix he'd warm up to it.

We only had to do this for about 4 or 5 days until he started forgetting about it. We brought the grab bag downstairs because I thought perhaps it was too dark in our room to see what he got and that's why he was complaining.

I was clearly giving him too much credit.

But moving things downstairs was the first step down in the process. Eventually we'd forget to pick one out and he wouldn't remind us.

Another pat on the back for us.

We were so proud of ourselves that we started to take on another challenge. I started leaving the door open a bit at bedtime. We did this when he was sharing a room with his cousin in Colorado and he did really well. So I transferred it home and it continued to go well.

Until this past week. He started his repetitive 'popping' again so we went to the 3 strikes rule. After 3 pop outs we would close the door and lock it. Most nights the threat was enough to keep him to only 2 tries.

Of course when I told this to our new 15 year old babysitter on her first night putting him to bed a week ago, she seemed okay with the process. But when push comes to shove she wasn't ready to be the bad guy. We came home at 10pm to find him still up, having challenged her for 2 hours of popping out of bed. And when we found him, he had a special surprise in store as he had each hand full of gumballs, as well as one in his mouth, and a blue smudged face. And no diaper. Which is still required for night time.

No, we didn't fire the babysitter. But we did offer a lot of education. The next babysitter bedtime went much more smoothly.

And then we hit daylight savings and we even have him sleeping past 7am in the morning.

Woo hoo!!!

And another pat on our backs.

Except just when we think we have all of our bases covered, our son has decided to level the playing field.

What's the one thing he can control when we've taken away all his other options?

That damned diaper.

Even though my husband and I have decided we aren't ready to take on the challenge of bedtime without diapers yet, our son doesn't feel the same way.

I thought it was strange that the sitter didn't put a diaper on him that night last week. When actually he had taken it off himself during all of his little shenanigans. And for the past few nights, he's decided that he's going to get up at some point and let us know that he wants it off. Last night he just took it off himself at 3am and then came in to tell us that he took it off.

You might think this is a great step forward toward getting rid of it all together. But we don't.

At 3am we really don't want to hear about the diaper. We just want it to be on his ass and we want said ass to be in his bed.

And we certainly do not want to be up at night taking him to the potty or changing sheets.

Now tonight I was back to offering him a present - to which he requested a car - if he slept in bed all night, and didn't take off his diaper.

I'm off to go find all those cars he's collected and strewn about the house. I need to wrap a few of them up for a morning "surprise".

What? He's just going to complain about them anyway.

If he's going to find a work-around, then I will too.

Toddlerisms

You know your 2 year old has two older sisters, and a command of the English language, when you hear him say...

..."whatever" when he gets frustrated and wants to walk away. Perhaps while doing a puzzle and not finding the right piece..."whatever"...

..."cool!" when you point out a little red sports car on the road.

..."I'm just wewaxing" when you ask him how he is doing while sitting on the potty.

..."what now?" whenever you finish a stated task. For example, "Let's go get your milk," and after finding the cup and taking a long gulp, "what now?". "Let's go outside," and after arriving outside, "what now?".

..."I got one!" whenever he's trying to think up a new joke. For example, when saying "see you later alligator" he will often be prompted to come up with a 'new one'. So we say "bye bye french fry" and he will continue with "I got one! Bye bye hamburger! I got one! See you later streetlight! I got one!....I got one!" over and over and over again, naming the many things he sees around his immediate area, or even making up things that sound funny.

..."I buy dat!" whenever he sees something he wants. While looking in a book, while driving in the car, while watching tv...which is wear this sentiment was born with help from his sisters. Most times the items are not 'buyable', but that doesn't stop him from yearning.

..."no way!" whenever he doesn't want to do something that you ask of him. And of course he says it in response to our retort of "way" or "yes way".

No one has ever said he isn't clever.

Now I'm off to wewax.

Yes way.

See you later doo dah.

The Memory Game

As we wind up this year, and I find myself only having written two entries this month, one about each of my daughters on their birthdays, I feel compelled to round it out with an entry about my son.

Ahhhh, my son. Here's a good story. After fighting a horrible flu during late November and early December, I got behind on my holiday shopping. When I was finally feeling up to leaving the house, I suggested to my husband to meet us out for a quick bite to eat after I took the kids to a store, and then we could go by another store afterward. Sounded simple enough.

But the store I went to first was TJ Maxx, which has clothing and housewares. I was there looking for clothing for teenage girls that I was donating to a holiday program. Having no idea what to get them, since I don't know them and don't have any teenagers, it was taking me a while to decide. During my attempt at making a decision, my son was getting restless in the cart. So I let him out and told my oldest to keep an eye on him. I too was watching him. So when they went out of eyesight, I followed, listening for her voice telling him to "go back to mama".

I knew I was headed for trouble when he went straight for the housewares department.

And then I heard it.

The big crash of shattered glass.

At that moment all his never-ending movements stopped. As I approached them on the other side of some shelving, I saw him standing over his mess in amazement.

I'm sure he honestly had no idea that when he threw a little cardboard box he had picked up that it was going to land on a glass martini shaker, knocking it off the shelf and causing these shards of blue and green beauty on the floor.

When you think about it, his life is fun and games. And like most two year olds, he thinks the world is there for his discovery and amusement.

And it is.

But at that moment I didn't much care for his view of life.

I cared about mine. About being that mom that lets her kids run rampant in the store, running about breaking things. I've been a mom for 8 years and this was a new one for me. When you combine "3rd child" with "boy" and "high energy", I'm finding that I'm discovering a lot of new things lately.

So I swept up the pieces with my feet the best I could, and then moved on. No one was there to tell me what else to do. I waited, but no one showed up. So we got the few things I had picked out, got in line, and got out of there. With him crying the whole time until we got outside and I let him back out of the cart.

I guess it had been so long since I'd taken him shopping anywhere besides the grocery store, I'd forgotten my usual tricks. And his usual restlessness.

I find that this is a pretty common occurrence. Time passes and we forget things. Especially things not worth remembering. It's the memory game. We forget the bad stuff and we remember the good. I mean who wants to hold on to all those annoying experiences in life, right? Unless it's traumatic, the chances are you will forget about it in time.

Lately I have been forcing myself to remember the tantrums my oldest had when she was 3 and 4 years old. And 5 years old too. They are starting to fade in my minds eye. But I want to hold on to them long enough to be able to say "this is what kids do when they are this age" whenever my other two do the same things. It's easy to apply sainthood in retrospect.

Just ask my mom. According to her, she had the most well-behaved 3 young children any mom could ask for. She even said this week that we didn't whine when we were kids. Or at least not like my kids whine.

But I remember. I remember one time complaining so much and being such a pain-in-the-ass to her that she didn't let my sister and I go somewhere with her. So we proceeded to cry and tantrum. And we were 11 years old at the time. Around that same time I remember getting into fights with my sister that involved throwing household items at each other, like hangers and scissors.

We were not all sugar and spice. The truth is we weren't perfect children. But we were children. And kids do some pretty crazy stuff as they explore the world and where they fit into it.

I've referred to my son as that kid many a time, and he certainly has those traits that put him in that category. But after these holidays, when all I seemed to hear about him was criticism from relatives, or the more gentle descriptions of "special" and "high energy", I feel the need to get my mama bear face on.

He is all of those things. And he's also a lot more. When you spend some time with, especially one-on-one, you see that he's also sweet and loving, very smart, and he can be more of a "controlled energy" type of kid. He has learned to behave within limits; he doesn't run away from you snickering when out in public, he doesn't approach strangers, he doesn't bite or hit other kids (at least not on purpose), he holds hands when crossing the street.

It is true that when he's in a crowd, he feeds off the energy and makes himself heard.

But more importantly, he snuggles and hugs, laughs and smiles, and runs around having fun.

So we'll continue playing the memory game. Knowing that, like many of us, his best years are yet to come.

And he too will achieve sainthood in retrospect.

It Wasn't Me

As most of you know, one of my son's favorite words to date is "poop". It was poop this and poop that. It started out getting such a laugh from his sisters that ever since he's never let it go.

He's even saying it in his sleep lately. Well, let me explain. He'll fall asleep in his car seat just before arriving home, and even though his eyes are closed and the drool is already forming a puddle on his shirt, he'll occasionally open his eyes and attempt to wake up. And when he does, he says "POOOOP!" really loud and with a smirk on his face. Then he'll not his head off in the other direction and go back to sleep. Sometimes he'll even do one or two encores of this before finally settling down into slumber.

Well it seems now we may have a new winner. Although I'm doing my darnedest (notice the use of my child safe language) not to let it happen.

The new word that I'm hearing too often is "dammit." I recently told the story of the first time I heard this while we were on vacation. I heard it a few other times that week, and then it was pretty quiet after that.

Then the other day I was carrying him downstairs and he was mumbling "dammit....dammit....dammit."

Then the rest went something like this.

Me: What did you say?

Him: Dammit.

Me: No, that's not nice. We don't say that.

LONG PAUSE (filled with lots of two year old wheels turning).

Him: Daddy say it.

After stifling my laughter I simply replied "that's not nice...no saying that."

So there you go. Proof that it wasn't me. Sorry hubby, your son ratted you out and now I'm telling the world.

Non-Stop Fun

Yesterday morning I attended the first official school function of the year. It was a "coffee chat" with the principal and PTA. How it works is the aforementioned folks "host" a little gathering, complete with coffee and breakfast munchies, for each grades' parents at the school. Yesterday was the one for the first grade parents, which happens to be the entering grade at our school (that's another story about the Kindergarten process, so don't ask).

While my daughter is now a 2nd grader, which I'm still marveling at, I went as a representative of the PTA, since I'm on the Board this year. I really wasn't looking forward to it too much, other than the opportunity to have a cinnamon roll and another cup of coffee. I didn't even go to the one last year for 1st graders, namely because I'm not really one for sitting around and socializing with a group of relative strangers. I prefer to meet people in a smaller setting, like through the classroom activities. So this was literally my first "coffee chat" and I was focusing more on the coffee than the chat.

This event is timed to start after the bell rings for class to start in the morning so it's fairly early. And I figured I was taking my younger two along because it just seemed silly to have my husband stay home an extra hour for something that was so informal.

I had to wrestle my two younger ones into the car, after five rounds of "get dressed" to my four year old, and a couple of rounds of "let's brush your teeth", and a few more of "pick out your shoes". I swear, if I could take my 4 year old out in her pajamas with bed-head hair and her teeth not brushed, not to mention nothing in her belly except chocolate milk (since she has to be practically coerced into eating breakfast), I'd be the one parent that was early for everything. I'd have people marvelling at my ability to get to events and meetings on time with 3 small children.

At least until they got a look at my kids, and then they'd give me the passive aggressive "she likes to pick out her own clothes, huh?" as they roll their eyes behind my back.

So we finally manage to get to the school and do our perfunctory 5 minute wait for a parking space as the lot clears out a little. By the time I roll in there with my son in the stroller and my daughter dragging behind, the PTA President is already giving her spiel. And just then she starts to introduce the officers.

Sweet. Just in time.

I take my kids around to the other side of the room to get some food as she's rolling off the names. By this time my son is already saying "OUT!" to get out of his stroller. Of course we are in a large gymnasium-like auditorium and his voice is way overpowering the lovely lady trying to speak to the crowd. She names all the officers in front of her and says "am I missing anyone?", at which point I raise my hand to be acknowledged. Normally I wouldn't do this, but I just dragged my ass, and two little behinds, here for this very reason so I wasn't going to let the opportunity for due credit pass me by.

"Just us over here, the loud ones," I say to the crowd. I get a few giggles and my due acknowledgement.

After this point my son is not wanting anything to eat, nor is my daughter, so I let them go play in the courtyard outside some glass doors while the Principal of the school starts to talk.

Now all the talk I've heard so far isn't really very critical to me. I've been at the school for a year, so I'm fairly familiar with it's workings. I don't really need to be reminded about the parking lot fiasco, or urged to volunteer for things, since that's why my ass is in the room to begin with. So at this point I already start planning my exit.

Just then my son runs back over to the glass doors and screams "MOM! COME OUTSIDE!!" over and over again while banging on the door. This scene is a bit reminiscent of that scene in The Graduate where Dustin Hoffman is banging on the church windows yelling "Elaine!" for his beloved to stop her wedding. It sort of had the same stunned reaction too.

So I go out and keep my kids company for a bit to keep them quiet. I'm looking in at the Principal talking as if I can hear her, but I really can't hear a thing through the glass. But I figure this way I'm covered if anyone is watching me and I'll at least look the part. I even nod my head a few times just for show.

Meanwhile my kids run around behind me like monkeys at the zoo. It's really what it felt like, even though we were the ones outside and the other side of the glass was the inside. They are running, falling, laughing, and generally having a ton more fun than anyone inside the meeting.

At one point my daughter is standing on a bench and I do the casual "honey, hop down from there, I don't want your brother to get the idea that he can climb all over the benches." So she "hops" down. I realized as I said it that I was probably in trouble.

"Ooooh. I do dat!! I jump!" is what I hear next and he proceeds to get up and jump down off the bench a few times before I can pull him away. Then I try to re-enter the meeting and realize that I'm locked out. I have to quickly divert to a different set of doors through the community center so that we can change scenery and stop jumping off of and climbing over objects.

Now we end up inside at a couple of vending machines. While they are drooling over all the goodies I sneak back inside to listen a little bit more. I hear my kids just outside the room with my son's loud "I WANT DAT!" over and over. So I offer a little what-can-you-do? shrug when some parents look over at me and try to listen intently to the meeting.

Nope, still nothing too critical happening in there. So I grab some more coffee and food for myself and check on the kids who are still excited about the vending machine.

Now I deem it time to go. Enough is enough with the pretending to actually attend a meeting stuff. I go back and grab the stroller from the room just as I hear the principal recommending early bedtimes for grade schoolers.

Check. I have that covered.

And we exit. Whew. 20 minutes of non-stop action and now I can taste freedom.

This is where the "but" comes in. But then, after getting our vending machine goodies, my son runs out to play in the school courtyard on other side of the room we were in. Again, outside some glass doors, so all his craziness can be witnessed by multitudes of other parents. And to top it off these doors are open with people gathered around them since it's where we entered the room.

My son runs around in circles a few times and then leads another woman's cute little innocent and quiet 2 year old all the way across the courtyard, where he climbs up on a concrete wall and begins to walk around with his little buddy right behind him. I hear the mother gasp as she sees what her son has done, and I look up to see my guy leading the pack.

Oops.

Now he's going to be known as "the loud one" and "a bad influence", which we all know adds up to "that kid".

After I run over and rescue this other woman's son, who can't get down on his own, and my son just jumps right off like he actually is the monkey that he seems to be, I figure it's time to get out of there. I get my son to run back over to where the crowd is and then I ask him to leave with me.

At this point I knew he wasn't going to leave peacefully. So I bit the bullet and picked him up to go. Right on cue, as we are passing the open entrance to the room where everyone is still listening to the speakers, he starts his screaming and kicking in my arms.

I offer a little smile to some of the women while I'm doing my wrestling routine, and I say a pleasant "see you next week!" and get the heck out of dodge.

Yup, that's my kid. Non-stop.

Which is great if you're on a cross-country flight. Or at a concert. Or at a number of things that really only last a set amount of hours.

I'm afraid this non-stop doesn't end for another year or two.

And I believe the same can be said for the eye-rolling that I'll be witnessing, which I've somehow managed to avoid for the past 7 years.

A Million Bucks

Alas, another installment in the School of Mom. Sorry to keep my public waiting. Things are picking up for my business and we are leaving on vacation tomorrow. And, oh yeah, I take care of 3 kids. Enough said.

Here's on an update on our game of Sleep Survivor with our son, which has taken on some twists and turns. In the end, it's just about a sure bet that I'll be taking home the million dollars.

I wish.

At the very least I'm starting to feel like a million bucks again, now that we have some peace and quiet at night. But it didn't come easy.

The very same night that I posted that last entry about outwitting our son, he turned around and outplayed me. Here I was all smug and patting myself on the back for being "on to something" by skipping his naps and it all back-fired. He was up just about the entire night that night. We went through about 4 rounds of "go back to bed" all throughout the night. Each one lasted over 30 minutes, and I was the one handling most of it (per my insistence that I would win this thing and finally make him see the light) until my husband took over and got up with him in the wee hours of the sunrise. Needless to say, I only felt like about two cents that next day.

In fact my son and I were both a wreck. I was beside myself feeling like I had failed at every attempt so far. Never having experienced anything like this with our daughters, I finally turned to the internet. Most of the advice I came across was similar to what I was doing. The GBTB (Go Back To Bed) approach that I was so familiar with over the past 3 months. Everyone said you should be stoic and strong, and show no emotion. Are you kidding me!? At 4 in the morning when I've barely slept yet I'm really leaning more toward seriously pissed off than stoic.

Then I came across one article that said the same things, but then acknowledged that toddlers often don't have control over their actions. They are impulsive and can't contain themselves. It said don't confuse their comprehension with their ability to control themselves. While I knew this to be true, I never really applied it to our game of Sleep Survivor. And then it all clicked. You know how you just know when something is the right answer? Well that's what happened.

The article went on to say that you should consider putting one of those tents on the crib. Or put a safety gate at their door, so they can't get out of their room. While I had thought about these options before, and people had recommended it to me, I really just thought that he would learn over time by what we were doing. But clearly it wasn't happening fast enough. If at all.

However we weren't really wanting to go back to the crib. And we knew that he would just crawl right over one of those gates. So we went with the only option we knew. Switching out the doorknob for one that he couldn't open. We have those annoying door handles in our house that are like levers, and they are very easy for toddlers to use; especially to get out the front door.

Since I knew he needed a nap that day and I had no patience to deal with his crankiness, and no new doorknob yet, I decided I would just hold the handle and see what happened. At first he cried for a minute, then he went down to the floor and looked out through the crack. He could see my feet moving around and whenever he quieted down and I would walk away, he'd get up and come out of the room. So I finally put a chair there and put my feet up while I held the door shut. This maneuver proved to outwit him and after a few minutes he fell asleep at the door on the carpet and took a 2 hour nap there.

During all of this I remembered that we did this with our oldest back when she was 2 years old. She spent a week or two falling asleep at the door until she finally started going to sleep in her bed. Yet another lesson that had somehow slipped through the cracks of my mush brain.

I think I was just reluctant to use this method again, seeing as it seems sort of cruel. But it makes sense. And in the end, it's what has worked to give us all a good night's sleep.

That first night with the new doorknob he cried for less than a minute, then went to the floor and started calling "Daaaaady" over and over again. Until about a minute later when he quieted down and fell asleep at the door.

This is how it goes most nights. Occassionally he puts in there a "Mooooomy" and at times he even calls for his sisters. Thankfully it was a very pleasant voice and one we can easily overlook. Every night around 10pm my husband goes in and moves him to his bed. Those first few nights we wouldn't hear a peep from him again until around 5am, when he'd call out again, but then go back to sleep at the door until 6am when my husband would get up with him. And so it went for the first week.

Although we did have a hiccup in there a few nights into it when we went away for the weekend. The first night away he was up again all during the night. My husband ended up sleeping next to him for part of the night. But the second night he slept in his bed (after we put him back) all through the night until 6am. One step back, but two steps forward.

When we returned home, he started going to the door as usual, but then he would go back to bed and go to sleep. We even had one night when he didn't go to the door at all. But then he was back at the door a couple more nights after that, with us moving him to bed again. But every day he has been sleeping all night until after 6am without a peek out from under the door. Most mornings he even sleeps until 6:30am! That lazy boy.

And the kicker here is that he's still napping every day. Most days we are out and about and he falls asleep while in the stroller or car. But if we aren't out, I put him down for a nap at home. And he'll just go to sleep in bed without even coming to the door.

This, combined with the fact that he's in his room at 8pm every night, means that we are all getting more rest in this house.

And last night when my husband put him in his bed he once again didn't go to the door. He was sleeping nice and snug in his bed when he went to check on him.

We are definitely on to something now.

And I don't care if he's a teenager before he figures out how to use that doorknob.

As long as we are all sleeping happily ever after again.

Outwit. Outlast. Outplay.

We have been playing a little bit of "Sleep Survivor" around my house this past week. There have been experiments and challenges that keep us all on our toes vying for the power in the family. And it's all centered around getting our son to sleep in his "big boy bed".

As I've mentioned before, he was getting out of his crib for the past couple of months. So we figured if we are going to go through all this rigmarole, why not just get the big bed and get all this over with. And I'll admit that in the back of my mind I thought, who knows...maybe it will be better if he has a big bed.

Nope.

We started this process just after my last post, so I'll try to sum up the past 10 days of sleep angst in the most succinct way possible.

Basically, he didn't want to fall asleep on his own in the bed. He needed to be lulled, rocked, sang to, back-rubbed, magic spelled upon - whatever we could do to get him sleepy enough to put him down in the bed so he wouldn't get back up. If we didn't, we were in for an hour or two of the same looping roller coaster over and over and over again. And I like roller coasters. But this was enough to make me want to scream after 20 minutes.

So we took the easy way out. At the time it seemed like the only sensible option.

Now how many times have we said that to ourselves?

Turns out we have created a monster. Now I feel I need to preface this all by mentioning that we never had that many problems with our girls. My oldest fought the big bed for a week or two, but after our consistent "go back to bed" talk she gave in to our wisdom. And our younger daughter never even fought it. It was a non-event.

Nowadays, we just don't have the energy or time to do all head-to-head combat that we did with our oldest. Or so we thought. Now we are paying the price. Not only would he not go to sleep without us cuddling him into his slumber, he started waking up during the night and coming to get us. Twice each night.

Ugh. Now we were in a pickle.

He was so tired during the day after all his nighttime shenanigans that he started taking long naps. After a few days of this he was all ass-backwards with his sleep. He wasn't going to sleep at night until 9 or 9:15p, only to get up some time between midnight and 2am, and again around 4 or 5am, and then finally he was up for good at 6am. And then he'd take a 3 hour nap during the day.

Now I can't be positive since I've been so sleep deprived lately, but I'm pretty sure this a HUGE step backward in our sleep regimen. It's like we have a 3 month old again. And this boy has been sleeping through the night for almost 2 straight years with nary a peep.

Again with the Ugh.

After a tryst at 2am that lasted until 3:30am with both my husband and myself up trying to figure out what the hell we had done wrong to create this situation, I knew that something needed to change.

I started doing the math and figured out that he was sleeping about 11 to 12 hours every day. Which the doctor assured me at his 2 year well-check was perfectly normal. And she also happened to mention that he'd probably give up his nap sooner than his sisters, since boys usually give it up sooner than boys.

That was the only green light I needed to decide that we would once again forge ahead and start going without naps. Why not go back to the crib? Why not go back to the head-to-head combat and the nauseating "go back to bed" cycle? Because I am trying to outwit this little dude. Or at the very least outplay him.

My reasoning was that he would be so tired if he didn't take one that we could put him down around 7:30p and he would be way easier to get to sleep. And we wouldn't be dorking around with him until 9 at night. And hopefully he'd be so tired that he would sleep through the night again.

Now the moment of truth. You are all wondering, did that stroke of genius work? Or was she just so desperate that she tried something really stupid and she'll be voted out of her family?

So far, so good. Of course the first day we tried to skip the nap, on Sunday, he fell asleep in his car seat at 3pm before we even pulled out of the parking space we were in. We let him sleep an hour that day. Then on Monday he went without a nap. Monday night he went to bed at 7:30p and was, unfortunately, up at 2am. But just that once, so that was an improvement.

Yesterday he had another short snooze, but was easy to put down by 8pm, and stayed asleep until 4am. A marked improvement! Except he was up again at 5am, and then 6am for good. Once again, Ugh.

But I think we might be on to something. I think we will be able to outlast him at this point, since we have outwitted him for a few nights now and we can finally have the 8 to 9pm hour back to ourselves again.

Now on a related note, sadly, our younger daughter has gotten in the mix the past couple nights. When we had that ugly session I mentioned that lasted an hour and a half the other night, he was crying so much with us trying to put him back to bed over and over that she woke up and started crying too. Then this seemed to have reset her sleep cycle, and the past 2 nights she has been up at 2am. She wakes up, looks around, and then claims "it's too dark!".

Well duh. It's nighttime. But that bit of outwitting doesn't really work on a 4 year old in the middle of the night.

So last night I had a pep talk with her, which usually works when she goes into these cycles. I am determined to outwit her as well, and get some damn sleep around here.

It seems it hit home a bit, since she started talking to her sister this time when she woke up. She was complaining to her, hoping that her woes could still be heard, but that she wouldn't wake up my husband or myself as she had promised.

One point for her in the outwit department. She is a worthy adversary.

But I will not be outplayed and I will definitely outlast.

Little Wonders

Today, for whatever reason, I was at my wit's end.

Wait a minute. Hummmm....let me think about that. Oh, I got it. I was at my wit's end because my three kids had eaten all the way through my wits until there was only a little crumb left. Yup, that's the reason why.

Although truth be told we were having a perfectly fine day. And in fact we've had quite a few good days lately. I think we may be turning a bit of a corner in our family now that our youngest is just over 2 years old. Although today a bit of my sleeve got caught in the door and pulled me back around that proverbial corner again, showing me that I shouldn't count my preschoolers before they've hatched.

Today's wit-eating all revolved around a crying 2 year old after he woke up early from his nap, which he sorely needed since he was up this morning at 5:45am. As far as the morning routine goes, he's been pretty consistent with getting up at 6:20am. He teased us a couple days and went until 7:30, but then he was right back at the 6am times just when we were starting to catch up on our sleep.

The 6:20's are still earlier than any of us need to be up, and way earlier than I want to be up. And then the occasional 5:30's are just down right rude. But to his defense they are driven by bad dreams that he can't seem to get over, and always seem to happen at that time. Then the morning starts even earlier than usual. In fact, my loving, charming, handsome and incredibly virile husband has been the morning volunteer, getting up with the little lad while I catch some more shut-eye. He's a saint. I'm hoping, more for their sake than mine, that our son goes into a later morning routine once the daylight time shifts and the sun isn't rising at 5:30am anymore. We'll see.

So, back to today. Here I was with a crying 2 year old, and I was just moments away from starting a scavenger hunt with my oldest. I had suggested it and gotten everyone excited about the idea, and then someone came along and rubbed his snotty tears all over the plan. And I mean that literally, since all the little scraps of paper that my oldest had prepared where lost somewhere in the juggle of my balancing act with the 30+ pound boy-wonder (plus his two favorite stuffed animals) and a sippy cup and a snack, all bobbling around as I tried to find something, anything, that he would eat so his mood would cheer up.

I endured about 45 minutes of this crying, with him occasionally pointing to something that he wanted to eat or do, only to change his mind when I went and got it and put it in front of him. All the while still juggling his dense little body and those of his two stuffed friends. No matter what I offered or tried, they were all short-lived remedies.

And of course during this time my sweet oldest child is getting her little sister's clues ready for the scavenger hunt. I really wanted to help get hers ready, since I was put in charge of doing them for my oldest and she was in charge of doing one for her little sister, but I had absolutely no patience left. Every time she would ask me something I'd just bark at her "not now!". But she was a trooper and stuck to her task at hand.

Then my younger daughter decided to start some coloring with the book I was trying to show my son to calm him down. Which was fine, but she didn't want to share and let her brother color, or rather scribble, on it, so we got yet another showering of tears.

At this point all three kids were in separate places, all asking me for things, or else just slobbering and snotting all over me. No one was especially upset besides my son, but I was just wearing out and wanting to run away screaming.

I felt pulled in too many directions. And frustrated from all the crying. A headache was starting. And I had a momentary flash of going to our bathroom and closing the door behind me. I knew he would just be blubbering on the other side of it, but I thought for a second there that I might find some kind of reprieve. Alas, I knew I was fooling myself. Plus I knew my sitter was only a few minutes away from showing up. Which in itself was enough to hold on for, as well as enough to keep me from locking myself in any room, lest she show up to such a lovely scene.

So I grabbed my son, still with his 2 stuffed friends, and took him out to the garage. I pulled out a chair and sat in the driveway. And then I tried the old distraction thing and said "do you see an airplane? a bird? a helicopter?". We don't get too many helicopters around our house, but he's really into them lately, so I thought I'd give it a try. What the hell.

But I got nada. Still the crying.

And just then, out of nowhere, flies a monarch butterfly. It makes a few circles right in front of us, and then pulls one of its friends out of hiding and they do a little fluttery dance right before our eyes. We were both mesmerized, watching them flit around with effortless beauty.

Then the tears stopped. And the smiles started. And we enjoyed the show.

Then I thought to myself, isn't that just so typical of parenthood? Just when you are all worn out and you think you have nothing left, something beautiful happens and you are reminded of life's smallest wonders.

You get an amazing smile and some cheerful giggles, a little snuggle, and the world is right again. You are restored to your normal level of sanity.

Then you go on with your scavenger hunt, looking forward to a little treat at the end.

My kids got some Oreos after their scavenger hunt.

I got the ability to leave three happy children with the babysitter and get some quality "me" time.

God bless the butterflies and babysitters of the world.

So Many Moments, So Little Typing

Where do I start? This past week had so many precious moments. And funny moments. And exhausting moments. And I wanted to remember them all so I could write about them later. Well not the exhausting ones because we all have enough complaining in our lives already. I know I do. But try as I might to capture all these moments in writing, they remained only written in my mind. So I'll try to sum up the good ones for you.

Last weekend we took my oldest to get her ears pierced. Yikes. Talk about an age marker. I can't believe she's old enough already. But we said we'd talk about it after her 7th birthday, and then we settled on her being 7 1/2. Which was officially last week. So off we went to the mall. And there were 2 girls ahead of her in line. The first one we saw was a very brave and stoic role model which I was pleased to see. Then it was time for the next girl to go. She was fine until the moment of truth on her first ear and she flinched just as the girl was doing the piercing. The job came out okay, but the girl started bawling and saying that it hurt and she didn't want the other one done. That poor mom had to calm her down and then talk her into sticking around for the other one, which she knew wasn't going to feel good. But thankfully she did it and survived. Then my daughter went up there and was very brave through it all. She ended up lucking out and having the second employee available to help when it was her turn, so she had both done at the same time. And she never shed a tear. Now she LOVES having her little pink crystal flowers in her ears. It goes great with her new haircut, which is about 10 inches shorter (and now Locks of Love is the recipient of all her patience over the past year).

Then last week was the end of the school year, which somehow gets translated into hurry-hurry-hurry-have-lots-of-events-and-meetings-and-too-much-fun-before-the-world-implodes. The first event that fell under this category was the recap and brainstorm meeting for the PTA Board. Did I mention that I got shanghaied into being an officer on the PTA next year? Okay, shanghaied might be a strong word. Let's put that under the category of It's An Honor To Be Asked To Serve My Country School, and subcategorize it under I Can't Say No. Anyway, back to the meeting. The only reason I highlight this event is because I had one of those "yes, that's my kid" moments. So here was this group of lovely ladies that were sitting around a family room in a lovely home, and I there I was with my two youngest rugrats. I brought them along (with fair warning to the group) and figured I'd put them in front of a show and they'd stay happy for a bit. Which worked for a while, but then my youngest got restless and decided to go up to the sliding glass door to watch the dog in the back yard. A little time passed and I was just thankful they were still quiet and staying out of the middle of the room and conversation. Then one of these sweet ladies gets my attention and points to her open mouth, and then points to my son, who is behind me. I turn around to see my son licking the sliding glass door and sharing a french kiss through the glass with a golden retriever. And he was leaving more drool on the window than the dog.

Yup. He's with me.

Another great moment from last week was on Thursday night. My younger daughter had a gymnastics "show". This is sort of a recital that they do every 6 months and invite us all in to watch from inside the gym so that we can feel like our kids are really getting something out of all the money we sink into the place. This being her 3rd or 4th show, and her being the rather shy one in the group (although she will always participate and perform, which we love) we weren't expecting anything too new. But low and behold, when it was her turn to run in and jump on the vault up to the platform and stand up on that platform all by herself to introduce herself to the crowd, she did just that. Did you get that? SHE DID JUST THAT. She introduced herself to the room. In a clear and somewhat loud voice. With eye contact no less.

Whaaaatt?! Who's child was this anyway? My husband and I could have been blown over by a feather. She's never done that before, and it was a HUGE step toward her blooming social side. One of the teachers, that she has had for the past 2 years, came up to me afterward and expressed her pleasant shock with it all. She couldn't believe it either. When I asked if she ever talked in class, she said that her public introduction was just about the most she's heard her say, ever.

One other moment from that night deserves a shout out. My daughter and her crowd pleasing introduction was not the first one to make an entrance for the class performance. The first boy that came in did so in the same fashion, running and jumping up to his shining moment on the stand. And just after his jump onto the platform, we all heard "ooooh....I try it!" and then we saw the streak of my son running past us all, crossing the entire floor exercise mat to reach the platform, then hurling himself at this kid's ankles up on the stand before my husband could retrieve him.

Yup, that's my kid.

So many moments in such a busy week. I wish I had time to capture them all with the details they deserve. But suffice it to say, just because this blog goes quiet for a few too many days, it does not, in any way, mirror what is happening in the daily life of this mom.

Birthday Boy

Today is our son's 2nd birthday.  And while he may be our third child, he is not to be overlooked or forgotten in the crowd.

I can safely say that he's the first one to take us through many experiences.  Which speaks volumes considering we've been at this parenting thing for 7 and a half years.  Of course, some of these things are based on the fact that he's a boy.  Like he's the first one of my kids to obsess over Thomas the Train.  And he's the first one that can get a sunburned belly (my girls aren't into the bikinis yet).  And he's the first one to get a buzz hair cut.  That one may be a bit obvious, but it's a change of pace in my life, that's for sure.  I'm used to going to the kids hair salon once every 3 or 4 months.  Looks like daddy will be brushing up on his 3 blade skills.

My son is also the first one at this age to thank me profusely, or anyone for that matter, whenever they do something for him.  He says "tay koo mommy" after I get him a drink or snack, or after I open a door for him or put his shoes on him.  He even says it when I put him down for a nap.  I'm really hoping this is a sign of the gentleman he's to become.

He's also the first one of our kids to become an escape artist.  A couple weeks ago he was happily playing in the tub and my husband was in the next room on the computer.  So I took a quick jaunt downstairs to change over some laundry, figuring my husband would keep an ear out for the little guy for a few seconds, and thinking that he'll just play in the water for a minute, singing his usual tunes.  After not even 10 or 20 seconds, I hear "Mooooommmmy.....mooooooommmmy..." and it's getting louder each time.  Next thing I know it's very close by.  So I turn around and peak at the top of the stairs and there he is, in all his naked glory, dripping wet on the carpet.  Huh.  I didn't see that one coming.

Nor did I see the quick escapes from the crib coming either.  Neither of our girls ever got out of their cribs.  Ever.  Did I mention that they never did that?  Ah, the good ol' days.

Anyway, this all started about a week or so ago - right after the bathtub escape now that I think about it.  He woke up with his "I'm scared" scream, which got louder and more insistent over the course of a minute or two.  Since he's a kid that almost never gets up during the night we took our bets that he'd go back to sleep in a minute.  Not so.  His cries got louder, were followed by a loud thump, and then the got even louder as he tore past our bedroom, calling out for me, and started his rapid sliding descent down the stairs on his belly, screaming the whole way.  My husband leapt down the stairs after him and eventually we got him calmed down (but we had to deal with the side effect that he woke up his older sister).  After one more quick escape, that was another loud thump followed by the "I hurt myself" cry, he was back in his crib.  The next time he stood up to get out, I was at the door and told him to stay in bed.  Two more of those and we were done for the night.  Although he did get out of the crib that next morning when he woke up.  But for a week or so after that, nothing.  No escapes at all.  Until last night.

Last night he got out of his crib to find his favorite sleeping buddy at bedtime.  Daddy quickly resolved that situation, but then we had two "I'm scared" screams at different times during the middle of the night.  Both of those were followed by very loud screams down the hallway as he came to find us.  Then he helped himself out of the crib this morning.  And tonight, at bedtime, I had to do the "go back to bed" routine with him 4 times, and then stood at the door and did it another 3 times before he actually got out.  Then the last time, I was a little later, so I opened up the door a bit wider just in time to see his escape.  He's quite agile.  He climbs over the top while holding his doggy (the aforementioned favorite sleeping buddy) in one hand.  Which means that he throws himself over and is hanging on by one hand while dangling a good 10 inches above the ground, doggy secured safe and sound under the crook of his other arm, and then drops to the floor to make his escape.

Ah, my sweet boy.  How you challenge us so.  But with every new discovery, you make us stronger.  

So this year here are my birthday wishes for you.

May you always have good manners and earn the mutual love and appreciation of the women in your life.

May you always love the simple things in life, like a speeding train, a full moon, and a funny face.

May you always move with such speed and agility, and always go after what you truly desire.

May you always know that my arms are forever open, waiting to give you comfort in your times of need.

Happy Birthday my little love.

Number Two

It seems that my number three has become quite obsessed with number two.  Well really it's just the word that has captured his fancy.  Who knew "poop" could be used in so many clever ways?

I think his fascination started when he would say it and his big sisters would laugh.  While he does know the correct meaning of the word, and can use it appropriately, he has much more fun using it to be silly.  Here are some of the highlights over the past couple of weeks.

While driving in the car one day, all the kids got too loud with their arguing and talking over each other.  So I did one of my very loud and authoritative "That's it!  No one talks for 3 minutes!  We need some quiet time!".  The girls willingly obliged lest they face more of my wrath.  But then after about 5 seconds of lovely peace and quiet, my son bellowed out "POOP!" at the top of his lungs.  And yes, we all laughed.  Because poop is funny, right?

Well, sometimes.

When a little girl, whom we didn't know but was waiting in line near us, became fascinated with his buckle on his stroller, he sat by silently watching her work to try to buckle him in.  "What a sweet little guy you are," the girls' mother said. "What's your name?" she harmlessly asked.  "Poop," my son replies.  Whoops.  That one was a bit embarrassing.

Many times when we are driving in the car, he'll make the rounds with the family while he is babbling.  "Poop....mommy poop......daddy poop......bella poop.....fia poop...."

And occasionally we'll even get "Elmo poop" tagged on to the end, because really, Elmo is one of the family now.

Whenever his big sister starts telling Knock-Knock jokes, he'll chime in when she's done.  "Knock knock," he'll say.  Then we say "who's there?" after he patiently waits for our response.  Now you see where this is going, don't you?  He replies "poop," and starts cracking up.

It's gotten to the point where I can use the word "poop" as a thermometer of his mood.  If he's cranky when he wakes up, he'll drink his milk and eat a little breakfast.  And then when he's feeling more social, I will look at him and give him some of that mommy-love-in-a-look, and he'll belt out a nice soft "poooop" and I'll know we are past the crankiness and on to a better mood.

Ah, the simplicity of life as a toddler.  If only things such as this could keep us happy forever.  The world would be a better place.

It's a bird! It's a plane!

Lately the name of the game with my son is DISTRACTION.  

It's really a great resolution to so many problems.

If he starts to cry about something (other than being hurt, although it still works then too).  If he is asking for a cookie non-stop and won't take "no" for an answer.  If he won't eat what's in front of him.  If he won't stop yelling in the car.

All of these common household problems have the same solution.  DISTRACTION.  

Really I should call it "Distraction Jeopardy" because things have to be posed in the form of a question.  And it is indeed a little game.  First it's his turn; he cries.  Then it's my turn; I say "where's the sky?" or "where's your nose?" or "do you see that doggy?".  Doesn't really matter what the question is about most times, but in extreme cases it has to be something interesting and not just a body part.  And it doesn't really matter where we are or if the question is relevant.  I can ask him "where's the moon?" when we are in the middle of the grocery store and he'll stop what he's doing and look around for it.  Those 22 month olds are gullible like that.

Here's an example.

This morning my husband was trying to get our son to eat breakfast.  As hungry as he always is in the morning, for whatever reason, he tends to be a pain in the arse about actually eating the food he is asking for.  Either he wants to feed himself, or it's not the right spoon ("Elmo poon!"), or he wants more cereal in the bowl before he'll take a bite.  You name it, he has an opinion about it.  I mean, it's just Rice Crispies for pete's sake, what's all the fuss about?

So this morning I enter the kitchen and decide that it's time for a round of Distraction Jeopardy.  I pick him up and take him over to the window in the dining room to look outside.  I bring the bowl of cereal with me so that I'm at the ready when he gets distracted.   

I always figure a window is a safe bet since there's so much to look at outside.  "What do you see outside?" I ask.  Sure enough, there's a new tulip in the ground that we admire.  But that gets boring fast.  "Do you see any birdies?" I ask, figuring it's a fat chance at 7 in the morning, but worth a shot.  

Then we look around and hit the mother lode.  Two doves are sitting on the fence right outside the window.  It's like winning the Double Jeopardy bonus question.

To know just how much of a mother lode this is, you have to know that we play this game a lot, a bit too much in fact, in the car.  If ever there is a fuss, all I have to do is say "Do you see any birdies out your window?" and he immediately stops what he's doing and looks for birds.  The same can be done for airplanes.  Since we live under the arriving flight pattern for SFO and about 2 miles away from a small local airport, we are always spotting planes in the air.  Mommy's little helpers fill the sky with all kinds of distractions around our house.  I do have to hear the words "boidies!" and "aowpane!" about a hundred times a day as he points them out while being shuttled around to and from his sisters' various activities.  But it's worth it if it keeps him happy.

So back to this morning.  As his eyes open so wide I think they might pop out of his head, his mouth opens too.  And in enters the first bite of cereal.  He tries to actually touch the birds through the window and continues to be so fascinated that I can then get a few more bites in while he watches them.  Then we are home free.  

Once he gets a taste of the food he realizes just how hungry he is and we can return to the kitchen where he can feed himself the rest of his breakfast, no matter which spoon he's using or how full the bowl is.

Voila!  Problem solved.

Now if only we didn't have to play 25 rounds of this game throughout the day.  

It can be a bit distracting.

Feel the Love

My son is finally able to say what seems like hundreds of words.  

Of course that doesn't stop him from his signature screams, but they do seem to be reverberating a little less often lately.

And now, as of a week ago, he can spontaneously put two words together as well.  I should preface this with the fact that he has often said something similar to "I want" before a word, but it sounded more like "eewa" and he would sort of run it right into the word it was in front of, making it sound like one long word; "eewamilt".  And he sort of lilts his voice in there to make everything sound a bit like a Native American Indian tribal name.  Nonetheless, that could probably be considered the beginnings of his verbal sayings.  

But it wasn't nearly as sweet as the spontaneous one that popped up a little while later. 

It was about a week ago when we were all in the car on our way home from a weekend outing.  I handed him a lollipop, as per his request after we had picked out some treats at the store.  Then I turned around and said "Can you say 'thank you'?"  He hadn't said it yet, but I figured if nothing else, a lollipop sure would warrant it.

And he said "tay koo mama."  

I tell you, it made my heart melt and my eyes tear.  My little guy not only finally said "thank you", but he put the "mama" on there, just to remind me how smart and lovable he is.  

Then a day or two later he added on to his new tricks.  My husband was leaving for work and I asked him "can you say bye-bye?" 

And he said "bye bye dada."

We always have to let Dad know that he isn't forgotten.

Then the next phrase came a day after that, true to his little red monster-loving ways, I was getting him cereal for breakfast and he said "elmo poon," requesting his new favorite utensil.  

Now Elmo can feel as loved as mom and dad.

But wait.  The love doesn't stop there.  I have to add in a couple more cute stories.  Just because I love my kids that much.  And apparently they feel the same way about me.

The other day, in the middle of a rather ordinary afternoon while we were doing not very much at all, my oldest daughter looked up at me and said "have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you as my mom?" 

What?  Does it get any better?  

Why yes, it does.  She then wrapped her sweet little arms around my middle for a big hug just to hit it all home.  So then I knelt down and gave her a super big hug.

But it doesn't stop there.  Then my younger daughter came up to us and said "I love you too" and joined in on the hug.  

I know what you are thinking.  How could it get any better?  But there's more.  

Not to be outdone, my son then joined the big hug, and soon we were all covered in ooey gooey love all over.

PURE BLISS.  

Those are the moments in my life as a mother that make it all worthwhile.  The seven years of diapers, restless nights, scraped knees, and plentiful bodily fluids and wastes.  The thankless hours of laundry, driving to school, grocery shopping, clothes shopping, picking up from school, shoe buying, driving to activities, snack and lunch making, driving to more activities, and shoe returning.  And then driving home.

Like they say in golf, you live for the game because of that once in a while great shot.  That one long drive that sails straight to the green and sets itself up for the perfect putt.  All those other lousy shots are worthwhile because of how great it feels when you hit "the one".  In fact, I think you could say that about a lot of things in life.

Now I will close out this lovefest with some more sticky oozing sweetness for your reading pleasure.  (I guess it's appropriate that we are still in the shadows of Valentine's Day.)

Today I was carrying my son up the stairs and I said "can you say I love you?"

And he said "I lev ew mama."  

You gotta love those hole-in-ones.

Too Much Elmo?

You know you and your 20 month old child have too many Elmo books, have been watching too much Sesame Street, and have one twelve too many Elmo toys when...

...your son learned to say "Elmo" shortly after "mama", "dada", and "ball" (thanks to the plentiful toys).  

...your son then learned to say "Ernie", "Bert", "Bigba", and "Cooka" before he learned to say the names of his siblings.

...your son says all of the above references about a thousand times a day.

...you are watching a commercial for Advair and you finally realize why that actress telling you about her asthma looks so familiar: she's Elmo's pal "Gina".

...you occasionally have trouble sleeping during the night because the theme song to "Elmo's World" is cycling through your mind like a psychotic episode-inducing broken record.

...one of the reasons that the theme song from "Elmo's World" is going through your head at all hours of the day is that your son has learned to sing (I use that word liberally) "la la la Elmo waaaad".

Pretty soon I'll be having dreams that Maria and Luis are my mom and dad and Gabi is my sister, we have a goldfish named Dorothy and we live next door to Mr. Noodle.  And we'll all be singing "Elmo's World" in Spanish.  

What?  You don't know who all those people are?

Someone make it stop.

Please Remain Calm

As I've mentioned in a recent post, my son is experiencing a great deal of faceplants these days. Which are leading to a great deal of nosebleeds.

The worst one yet took place just after I wrote that post. We were at Pump It Up, the toddler birthday party version of Girls Gone Wild, for the party of one of my younger daughter's classmates. If you've ever been to one of these jumpy-house-places-on-crack you would know that there are any number of places he could have knocked his noggin. And most of them are soft. Although, while he played with the basketball in one of the jump houses, I was just waiting for it to land smack on his face as he looked up to see where it went. I at least figured he was in for a good body slam with one of the many "big kids" that were jumping like crazy and bouncing off the walls.

But, no. Nothing that complex for my son.

Instead he decided to, in the middle of absolutely nothing, spin around in circles on the floor (no, not a jumpy house) and make himself so dizzy that he fell over. Flat on his face.

It was a work of genius.

About two point two seconds after he looks up at me bawling, I see a gusher starting. I did stay calm and took him out to the bathroom where we eventually got it all cleaned up. It frightened the girl working there enough that she went running for an ice pack. But he's a tough guy and he didn't want that sissy ice.

Once he was cleaned up he just wanted to get back into the ring. So we went off bouncing and sliding again, thankfully blood free for the rest of the event.

I have to say that I was really calm during it all. Must be because of all the tactical, high level training he's put me through lately.

But then today I saw the aftermath of a little girls face meeting some concrete outside my younger daughter's school. And I almost lost my lunch.

I know, I know. Not even my own kid. But I guess when it's your kid you have more adrenaline keeping you in control. Or you aren't such a gawker because you are thinking about how the hell you are going to stop the bleeding, all the while scanning your Mommy GPS to figure out the whereabouts of the nearest hospital.

Plus, this poor little girl was bleeding WAY more than my son's nose ever did, most likely because she was bleeding in her mouth as well. There was so much blood that her mom couldn't tell where it was coming from, and all the while the girl is crying profusely and starting to gag, presumably because she's swallowing some of the blood. It just wasn't pretty.

My heart went out to them, and I offered wipes. Yes, wipes. It's all I could come up with. Another mom had gone for paper towels and help from the school office, and another mom was following directions and fetching the little girls pacifier from their car. Clearly they were a lot more helpful than me.

And while I'm there with what I'm sure was a terrified look on my face, doing so little that picking my nose would have been a viable option, the mom of this girl is staying very calm. She's trying to wipe her daughter's face and figure out where she's bleeding. And she even thought about getting the pacifier out of the car so the girl would stop crying and hold still.

Eventually all I could do was duck into my car and go. I did wait until other help arrived, and I even gave my feeble, but true, excuse that I had to go pick up my son.

So I got back in the car and for the next 10 minutes I felt nauseous and spaced out. I couldn't even hold a conversation with my 4 year old to save my life.

That one really knocked me for a loop. It made me wonder just how I would have acted in the same situation. I only hope that I will be as calm as this woman was today.

Because I can tell you with absolute certainty that I will be in a similar situation one day. The odds are just with me, given that I have three children, and one of them is a spin-around-in-circles-and-fall-flat-on-my-face kind of kid.

Through and Through

My son never ceases to prove to me that boys are different from girls. From the very beginning he's been louder, more active, and more opinionated.

He's a boy, through and through.

He climbs higher, runs faster and throws more than his sisters ever did. He even pulls hair, so I guess he's ready to sit behind the girl with pigtails in first grade.

His problems come from not moving as fast or as far as he'd like to, which usually leads to a good tumble. Quite a few times I've had strangers gasp as they see him take a fall right on his belly after a mad dash for something. As I watch him I hardly even move, which gets mixed reactions from said strangers, but my boy proves me right as he'll just get up and keep on running to his target, no looking back.

But don't get me wrong. He can cry with the best of them. Usually that's how I know if there is blood involved. He's cut his lip or mouth more times than I can count at this point. And his faceplants over just the last few days have led to no less than 3 nose bleeds. During which he'll scream at the top of his lungs until I distract him with something else. Only then will I be able to clean up the blood dripping down his face.

The funny thing is, compared to the girls, he's my pickiest eater. I don't know how that happened other than the fact that I probably gave in to his demands since he was so loud in making his opinions heard. That, and the fact that I didn't take the time necessary to make him "like" all kinds of foods. It was easier to just keep shoving the same thing I knew he liked into his mouth; all the better to keep him quiet.

Like a lot of his brethren, he'll whine and whimper for food or something to drink until he gets what he wants. Then after he's gorged himself he'll give a big smile and get down to go play. It's one of the few times during the day when he's happy to just go off and explore all on his own, content with even the simplest of toys. I guess it's true what they say about the way to a man's heart is through his belly.

There is one other time during the day when he's happy to go play by himself; it comes along with a strong foul odor. It never fails that just as I'm thinking "boy, he's been off playing nicely by himself for a while now," he'll wander back in to say hi and the stinkies are not far behind. Pun intended.

Like a lot of men I have known in my lifetime, he's happiest after a good meal or a good poop. Better yet, both.

Yup. He's a boy through and through.