As Promised

More From The Mouth

"I don't know why cowboys don't ride cows..."

__________

"Patience, mama. When there is an iPhone 4, we will buy one for you."

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"Going to see Santa is lots funner; going home, not so much."

We Knew It Would Happen

Sam is a little more than 2 years older than Joey and about 5lbs heavier. We knew that there would be comeuppance, and we knew it be too long before it started.

Last week, Joey tackled Sam for the first time - a really good rugby tackle, too, just grabbed him by the waist and pushed - and inside I cheered; maybe someday soon Sam will respect what Joey wants. (I know, I dream. It's still a nice thought.)

A Dog Would Have Been Cheaper

I remember discovering this when Sam was Joey's age, and am now rediscovering it with Joey; an 18-month-old is a lot like a dog. A fairly smart dog, maybe a spaniel of some sort, but a dog nonetheless, and one prone to misbehaving. Most of our conversations are full of things like, "No!", "Get off of that!", "What's in your mouth?" and "Good boy!"

A Clarification

Joey is awesome. I feel like my last couple of posts about him have been mostly negative, and although that's with good reason, it's very focused on a small amount of the time. Most of the time, he's a great kid. He's bright, he's very good with puzzles (already! And we thought Sam was doing them early!), and he understands a lot.

His current favourite thing to do is run. (Normally after his brother, but he's happy just running.) After supper, Julie or I will wash him up in the bathroom and he'll start saying, "Go go go go go". We set him down, yell, "Go!" and he'll take off. It's amazingly cute, still. My guess is it'll still be cute when he stops doing it, which will be a bit of a sad day.

His speech is doing well - he's got a dozen or so understandable words, and he's a decent mimic when he wants to be. He's also at the stage where he just babbles to himself almost constantly. I wish I knew what he was saying, because he sure thinks he's saying something. I was sitting on the floor in the den the other day when he walked up behind me, grabbed my head and said, "Blrf!" and walked away. He seemed satisfied.

We got us some good boys. Harrowing and trying, but that's little kids. They're still way on the plus side of the scale.

A Study In Contrasts

This weekend was Christmas party weekend; Saturday had Sam's preschool Christmas party, and Sunday was my work kid's party. They really couldn't have been more different.

One had pizza and ice cream, a visit from Santa (with presents!) and Little Ray's Reptile Zoo, a traveling show that lets kids learn about - and touch - a whole variety of neat creatures, bugs and snakes and scorpions and whatnot.

One had speeches, the most painful puppet "show" I've ever heard of, let alone witnessed, and the worst food I can ever remember eating.

Let's just say that I'm glad that both parties weren't at the same time, because we would have skipped my office party, and that would have been a shame. It was great. Nothing more to say. The preschool party, though...

It was a combined party for two of the preschool locations, but I'm pretty sure that that doesn't necessitate speeches from the directors of the locations. Not only do the parents not care, the 3- and 4-year-olds in the audience certainly don't.

This was followed by the only good part of the event; the kids' presentations (video coming soon). You couldn't have asked for a more stereotypical - and awesome - preschool show. There was singing (sort of), that one kid who was too close to the mic, forgetting and mangling of some words, and the one kid who started bawling as soon as everyone else started singing. It was beautiful.

After that, though, was The Show. I think it needs to be capitalized for posterity, as an indication that it was worthy of noting (though not noteworthy by a long shot). It was the most terrible, most awful, most painful piece of "entertainment" that I've ever had the misfortune to be exposed to. The "show" consisted of a single lady manipulating puppets about as well as I could and, sadly, "singing". (The quotes are to show that she really couldn't sing, but they sadly lack the sad face and hand gestures that I would be making while I said it in person. You'll have to imagine.) She wasn't bad enough to be funny, just bad enough to be awful. She had recorded music to accompany her that she completely ignored, both in key and tempo, and worst of all, she didn't know when to stop. Did you know that How Much Is That Doggie In The Window has 5 verses? I wish I didn't...

How bad do you have to be to sing kids songs with puppets and bore 3-year-olds?? We spent most of the time in the hall next to the "party" room, running and rolling balls.

Thankfully, we got back in time for the food. I felt bad for Julie, because she was hungry enough that it tasted good; I hope I never get that hungry. I lived through 4 years of meal hall in university, and it was absolutely gourmet in comparison.

The best part of the party was watching Sam. He is getting more and more awesome, and I now completely understand the parental urge to record everything.

The Terrible Twos

Have I mentioned this yet? Even if I have, I feel the need to do so again.

Joey has entered the terrible twos.

(If he hasn't, I don't want to know what they really are.)

He's reached a point where he melts down. A lot. Sometimes there's even a valid reason for it; more often the reason is something, "I put you down right next to me so I could use 2 hands on this heavy pot." The lower lip comes out, the eyes fill with tears, and he yells like he just picked up a firebrand in his bare hands. Truth be told, it's been a couple of weeks of this now, and it's making it very hard to feel any urgency when he starts crying. Sure, he may have just fallen headfirst off the couch, but more likely he's set a book down on the floor, or noticed the socks on his feet.

I think it's actually worse that when he's being good, he's /really/ good. He's talking more and more, he plays nicely with his brother (sometimes), and he's just generally sweet. When he's not being a total pain. The dichotomy is tough.

*sigh* This parenting thing is hard.

The Preschool Update

Sam is doing remarkably well, if I do say so myself. He's in the JK class, and is one of the youngest ones there. From what his teachers tell me, though, he's bright and picks things up quickly. (Was I surprised at that? I'll let you decide.)

He's doing some very cool things, learning-wise. He can count to twenty in french, he can name the continents by having them pointed out on a map, and, as I discovered this morning at breakfast, he can tell me numbers up to 100 by having me ask, "What's a 3 and a 5?" "What's a 6 and a 2?" Let me tell you, that one floored me. I didn't know he could do that, and if you'd asked me yesterday, I would have said that he couldn't. Having no idea what normal milestones are, I don't know if he's doing brilliantly well, but I'm just going to assume that he is.

It's also very nice to see that he's socializing just as well as we'd hoped. He listens well to the teachers and he seems to interact appropriately with the other kids. He's quite cottoned on to one boy in particular name Mihir. I know they're friends because, when they're both getting ready to leave for the day, they call each other names. As any boy will tell you, that's what you do with friends. (I can't imagine where he might have learned it... *whistles innocently*) Having a 3-year-olds vocabulary but a normal desire to call people names ends up with some interesting epithets being thrown around (with giggles): "Bye, monkey!" "Bye, boothead!" "Bye, dragon eyeball mud!" "Bye, earfacehead!"

I am much pleased.

I Walked In At The Wrong Time...

Sam: Can you keep telling the story?

Mama: Well, when the people in the submarine realized that there was a giraffe on top of them...

The Experimental Farm

We loaded the boys up this afternoon and headed out to the Experimental Farm. I'd never been - I think Sam is the only one of us who had.

Turns out, it's awesome.

I know I'm a city boy to the core, and, understandably, so are my boys. Still, cows mooing, live bulls, and pigs oinking tickles me to the core. Tickles the boys, too. Joey spent a good five minutes mooing at one of the cows - who mooed back. Sam's favourite part? Dropping some coins into the donation piggy bank, which oinked with every coin.

Turns out free entertainment is the very best kind, especially when there are live animals.

I Don't Know How They Do It

For the last couple of weeks, Joey has been sleeping pretty well, and generally gets up around 6:30. (Sam's been getting up circa 5:50, but I digress...)

This morning, Joey actually woke up at 5:40 after being tucked back in at ten after five. I was sad, particularly seeing as Sam slept until 7:30. *sigh*

(As a post-script, I'm terrified of the time change tomorrow. More later, if I survive.)

Dizzy, indeed...

Sam has started spinning around just to see what happens. Last night, he spun away from the supper table, tipped over onto the stairs, and said, "House, stop spinning!"

Glad They're Not Mine

A friend of mine had her kids out shopping with her recently. The store had a play area, which the kids had pretended to be happy about. Apparently they weren't, though, as they scattered immediately upon entering the store. As she collected her 2-year-old son and looked for her 3-year-old daughter, behind her she heard "Boo! Boo! Boo!"

She found her daughter - opening random changing room curtains and yelling "Boo!" at the no-doubt surprised occupants.

My, But He's Polite...

Joey is doing remarkably well on the communication front. He's got 4 or 5 signs (they're all animals, but hey, you have to start somewhere) and he's saying more and more words. At this point he says, "All gone" (in the most guttural voice you've ever heard; from a 15-month-old it can be... disconcerting, shall we say), "car", "uh-oh", and -- most impressively -- "thank you".

Even cooler than that, he says it unprompted when you give him things. We haven't even been trying. That's how good our parenting is; it's like some kind of courtesy osmosis.

If only we'd known that we could do it this easily when we had Sam!

Very Metal

I sing to Sam as we're driving to and from pre-school. Sometimes I run out of little kid songs and nonsense songs, and just sing whatever springs to mind. Last week, that song was Welcome To The Jungle, by Guns N' Roses, and I unwittingly unleashed the thunder.

He asked for it the next day, and the next. The day after that, I played the real song for him, and he was hooked. Guns N' Roses' Appetite for Destruction now lives in the car and gets steady play, right alongside the personalized CD Sam has with songs about lunchtime and wake-up routines.

The night after I played the real song for him, he did me proud at the supper table:

"Rock on, daddy," he said.

Rock on indeed.

The New Cool

I've been meaning to post these forever, but hadn't actually found the pictures.

Sam stayed home with Julie and Jen one day in the middle of summer and came to meet me at the office. They'd obviously been having some fun...

He Sounds His Barbaric Yawp Over The Patios Of The World...

Joey - A Tremendous Retrospective

...of the last 3 weeks, anyway.

When we last left our hero, he was busy producing bodily fluids and yelling. Oh, how well we remember those days; nowadays, he's busy producing bodily fluids and yelling.

___________________

It's official; Joey has my voice. Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry. Because that kid is loud. Thankfully, these days he's mostly happy yelling, but still. Damn. (Note the extraneous italics. That's how loud he is.)

___________________

There have been some very cool developments lately, and it's not until this moment that I really realized how much progress he's made in such a short time. At last blogging, he was started to teeter around - I think he'd made 6 steps once. Now he's practically running. Let me state, by the way, that a one-year-old running may be one of the cutest things on the planet. He'll still crawl on occasion, but it's mostly if there's something on the floor that he wants. Then he's right back up.

In other locomotive news, much like Sam, we worked at teaching him the correct way to go down stairs, so that's a significant worry that's been alleviated. Well, for me at least; Julie still yelps every time he goes near the stairs on his own, whether he's aiming for them or not. I guess that's one of the big differences between boys and girls - I see those times as teaching opportunities for Joey. If he goes for a tumble, he'll learn to be more careful around stairs.

I kid. Well, mostly.

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He's now feeding himself partially with utensils. He doesn't seem to be making as much of a mess as Sam did when he started with spoons, but maybe that's a matter of levels of mess; Sam was a neat eater, so the spoon drips and drops were apparent, whereas Joey is a tornado in a highchair. Extra fallout is hard to distinguish. On a related note, watching Joey eat supper has explained to me why so parents have nightly baths for their children. Sure, calming, routine, yadda yadda; I think it's so the bugs don't try to carry them off to feed the colony.

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Joey's now at Brad's house fulltime, and seems to be acclimatizing well. It's gotta be a tough transition for the little guy, especially seeing as I just plain don't have the time to coddle and cuddle him at Brad's place the way I could with Sam. It's one more instance of the second kid getting screwed - I think. The thing is, looking back, I don't know if it was doing Sam any favours to try to gentle him as much as I did into new things. Seeing the differences between the two boys, I can't help but wonder if the reason Joey is as good at playing on his own as he is because he's been forced to, or because if he's been allowed to.

In any case, Joey still cries when I drop him off, but that lasts for a couple of minutes max, and then (as of late last week), he's back to his normal independent self, exploring and adventuring. He's always happy when I pick him up - and happy to see me, which always makes me smile.

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He has started speaking! In two ways, really: his signing is getting much better and more consistent (though it does currently consist almost entirely of animal names, but hey, it's a start), and he's started to use words. His first word, appropriately, was "Uh oh". He has now moved on to "car", "mama", the occasional "dada", and my very favourite: an extremely gutteral "all gone". Like, think 3-pack-a-day emphysema patient. It's hilarious. Because, you know, he's not.

This is where it starts. First it's "uh oh", then it's "why?", then it's "I swear, Your Honor, it's not mine". It's a slippery slope.

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I saved my personal favourite piece of news for last. It won't have the same impact on all of you folk, what with it being the end of a behaviour that started after the last update. However, seeing as it a) was one of my least favourite behaviours so far, and b) was one of the big reasons why it's been so long since the last update, I'm thrilled to be able to report:

For the past 3 days, Joey has slept past 5:20am.

I'm not a morning person. I have never been a morning person (barring Saturday morning cartoons before I turned 14). Having had kids for 3.5 years and getting up what I still frequently consider absurdly early every day has not turned me into a morning person. About 2 weeks ago, Joey decided that sleep was for the weak, and started waking up between 10 and 20 after 5. This, obviously, necessitated me getting up between 10 and 20 after 5.

That was not the best me that can be found.

Even better, after about 4 days of this, Sam started waking up at the same time. Then they started waking in the middle of the night again. Not a lot, but once, maybe twice, each.

That may have been an even worse me.

It lasted about a week and a half. Joey has gotten up closer to 6:15 for the last couple of days, even though I did have to rock him back down at 5:15 one day. I am sad and happy that I have recently discovered how much better a single 5-hour chunk of sleep feels than 2 3-hour chunks.

We've been putting the kids down earlier (aiming for closer to 7 than 8) and it's been working beautifully; they've been going down pretty easy, sleeping well, and getting up later.

I am all for this change.

Teeth Or Germs

Joey is once again a fountain of bodily excrescences again. He spent 3 or 4 days with an impressively runny nose, and Julie actually had to change his shirt today because of drool. A fairly low-grade fever was a similarly inconclusive symptom. My guess is tooth; colds tend to produce less saliva.

At least he's in a good mood. He's great to be around - unless it's sleep time, of course.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

I picked up Sam from preschool on Friday and he actually told me he'd had a good day!

I dropped Sam off at preschool on Monday morning, and though it wasn't completely tear-free, he only seemed distraught, rather than hysterical!

This morning? Hysterics. (Though he did admit to having a fun day once. I think we surprised the answer out of him; every other time we asked, he was ready for it, and said, 'No'.)

I'm sure that this too will pass, but boy! does it ever suck at the moment.

On the very plus side, Joey has been doing his introduction at Brad's house and is handling it like a champ. He's been very happy to go to Brad, to be retrieved post-nap by Brad, and to hang out with Brad. Maybe one of my children will not cause me surprising amounts of grief (sadness, not frustration) first thing in the morning.

3 Stories

Man, have I been having a good run of days with my oldest boy lately. We've had a bunch of really excellent father-son kind of moments. I know they made much more of an impact on me than on him, but I'm ok with that; that seems to be the way parenting works.

When I picked him from preschool on Friday, it was an absolutely perfect day. Sunny and warm, but not uncomfortable. As a sort of "End Of First Week of Preschool" celebration, we went to the ice cream shop that is right across the parking lot. We sat on the grass, talked about random things and shared a butterscotch ripple cone. I taught him to bite the end off of the cone when you finish all the ice cream and we played Eye Spy. (I also got in trouble for not telling Mama that we were going to be late. What can I say? I got caught up in the moment.)

On the weekend, we flew a kite. I've had this kite for years, but never quite put it together, even though I've thought of it frequently. Sam was finally the impetus I needed to get it done, and we took it over to the park. It was his first time flying a kite, and again, it was a perfect day for it; sunny, warm, and a steady breeze. It was awesome. We got it stuck in a tree (which I had to climb), we took cover under some nearby pines when it started to rain, and Sam got it flying almost all on his own. Total movie moment which I hope I'll never forget.

Finally, as we were driving home Monday, I was pointing out the corn plants that grow in a field on our route. I said that we'd stop some time to take a closer look, and Sam asked, "Can we stop now to take a closer look?" First instinct was to say, No, we're driving home, we'll do it another time. I realized then that there was no real reason not to stop - there was a wide shoulder, and we were a little bit early. Out we got, and over we walked. We saw planes and grasshoppers on the way, and before we headed back to the car, Sam was showing me where the corn grew on the stalks. I still don't have a good explanation for why they're called ears...

I've always known that parenting is a long-term investment; I'm really starting to see the fruits of my labour (so to speak), and I can't wait until I have two boys to really share things with.

Montessori - End of Week 1

Looks like this whole Montessori thing might just work out after all. Sam doesn't like the drop-offs - to no one's surprise - but apparently he has fun all day and does well. I wish I could be a fly on the wall, I really do, and not only because I love watching him play with other kids.

Ok, it's mostly because I love watching him play with other kids.

But I'd also like to see how he's really doing. There's always a little part at the back of my head that wonders if he's as happy as the teachers there say he is. I have no reason not to trust them... but there's still that little voice.

He's been napping, which is unusual for him, but that doesn't seem to have had any effect on bedtime, so we're happy about that. One of Julie's big worries was that he'd go back to taking an hour+ to go to sleep; looks like bullet, dodged.

He was pretty upset when I arrived on Friday afternoon. I guess some other kids had already been picked up, and he was wondering why he hadn't been. Makes sense, from his point of view. Julie and I explained to him that other kids being picked up is a reason for him to be excited, as it means that I'm on my way.

We'll see how that goes.

Joey, Damn His Eyes

So our youngest son has decided that sleep is for the weak, or at least that falling asleep is for the weak. He'll now lay quite happily in your arms for 45 minutes and stare wide-eyed at nothing. The last couple of times I got him to sleep, I physically held his eyes shut for 10 minutes.

He may end up a bright kid, but he sure can't take a hint.

(Aside from that and a runny nose, he's doing fantastically.)

Montessori Day 2 Report

Today was three hours, including lunch; we weren't really sure what to expect, considering Sam spent the hour and half before we left the house telling Julie that he didn't like pre-school and spent most of the drive there telling me the same thing.

The drop-off was a nightmare.

There's really something off about leaving a hysterical child; there's something even more off about being used to it. But I digress...

He was upset for a couple of minutes, and then poof! coloured and made a kite (an orange one!) in Arts and Crafts. Lunch was "pasta with pizza sauce" -- macaroni with tomato sauce and veggies -- which he was pretty happy with. Day 2 was a success!

Now we'll see about tomorrow, which is just about a full day...

It's Good! ...We Think

Day one at preschool seems to have been good. When we got there, which was after normal arrival time, there were 20-25 kids there already. Sam's group has maybe a dozen (maybe less) 2-3 year-olds, and when I brought him over, two of them immediately wandered over and stared at him like some really neat kind of bug. They were very nice about it, and cute as buttons. By the time I left, maybe 10 minutes later, there was a neat little circle of maybe 7 little ones. Some of them said hi, but most just sort of gravitated to the new arrival.

My actual leaving was, expectedly, a little rough; there were some tears, some clutching, some pleading... Sam had a bit of a tough time as well. (Apparently he settled down a couple of minutes after I left.) It wasn't as bad as some I've been a party to, so I'll take that as a positive.

He was only there for 2 hours today, so it's hard to say what the big picture is going to be like, but he says he enjoyed, and that's a good start.

Big Day Tomorrow

...Sam starts pre-school! His last day at Brad's was the middle of August; tomorrow morning he starts at a local Montessori school. (Note that we haven't drunk the Koolaid or anything, we just think the curriculum sounds neat and that the extra structure would really benefit The Boy.)

It's only 2 hours tomorrow morning -- working up to full days by the end of the week -- but we think he's going to absolutely love it.

A House Of Plague

It's apparently that time of year again. Sam has just finished his stint of fever and is moving steadily into the racking cough; Joey's fever may be breaking as of this morning, and is apparently leaving his body via mucus.

Julie is still healthy. She really should get out while she still can...

End Of Unexpected Hiatus

So it turns out that 2 1/2 weeks of ridiculous working hours followed by a week and a half of vacation makes, oh, about a month, and look at how long it's been! We now return to our previous erratic schedule.

The Growth Chart

So I've been trying to keep track of Sam's height every 6 months. I've got a growth chart, but I keep forgetting to add the new numbers to it. I might as well post them here, just so I remember when I finally get around to it.

Jan 1/09 2'8"

July 1/09 2'9"

Jan 1/10 2'11"

July 1/10 3'1"

There's something highly amusing to me about someone who's height is actually 3-foot-something.

Random Thought Of The Day

From Sam, while watching me work:

"You don't drive a hamburger, you eat a hamburger!"

Yeah, That's What I Said!

S: Why do moths sting?

Me: Um... moths?

S: No, mawss.

Me: Why does moss sting?

J: ...wasps...

S: Yeah. Why do wasps sting?

Me: ... got it.

You Know, I Say That Too

Sam and I were in the shower the other day, when he looked down and noticed his own erection.

Suddenly, thunderously, I hear a 3-year-old voice yell, "BIG PENIS! BIG PENIS!!!", at which point he roared and stomped around the shower stall.

...it did my heart proud, it did.

Quotable Quotes: The Quotening

J: Aren't you contrary tonight.

S: No, you're contrary!

________________

Mama, at one of the many bedtime bathroom trips: Can you try really hard to make this the last bathroom trip?

Sam: Mama, can you try really hard to tell me a story?

________________

We wandered into our backyard early Saturday morning, Sam naked. He told me he had to pee, and I told to pee somewhere people didn't walk.

There was a wet spot on the walk, and I asked him if that was where he peed.

"No," he replied earnestly. "I peed in my wheelbarrow."

A Real Little Boy...

Sam and I went to the park the other day. He was riding his trike, and as he careened down the little hill that is at the park's entrance, I thought to myself, "Oh good, he's made it past the part where he normally over-balances." BOOM! Child down, with trike on top. *sigh* I should have known better.

Scrapes: 2 (one knee, one elbow)

I got him calmed down and back on track to the playground. About 200 yards out, he hopped off his trike and went tearing off full tilt. I lost sight of him behind a building for a couple of seconds... and then hear wailing. *double sigh*

Scrapes: 4 (2 on one knee, one elbow, one palm)

After the appropriate amount of calming, he ran off to play, happy as a clam. He clambered around the play structure, and then went climbing on some nearby decorative rocks. I started to say, "Be careful!", when BOOM! Child down again. *triple sigh*

Scrapes: 6 (3 on one knee, 1 on the other, one elbow, one palm)

We finished playing 10 or 15 minutes later, and then came home.

Of course, once he noticed the scrapes...

The Gimp(s)

So either it's something that a lot of babies do, or there's something odd in our genetics, but Joey has just recently started doing the same gimpy one-legged crawl that Sam did. Picture a baby crawling but with one knee and one foot, and, well, that's pretty much exactly what they do.

I've gotta think that it's a bit confusing for Joey when he gets caught on things, due to that one leg sticking way out to the side.

From The Mouth Of... Toddlers, I guess

J: You're just contrary.

S: No, you're contrary.

________________

(while pooping)

S: Mama, I'm making lunch!

(Yes, I am proud. Why do you ask?)

________________

S: I'm making soup!

J: What's going in your soup?

S: Um... carrots and potatoes and marshmallows and stickers and the wall. I'm taking all these things that I can handle; I'm sprinkling it all in!

...I'm glad that Julie is still the one who cooks.

HE WALKS!!!

Mark it; 11:38am, June 1, 2010, Joseph Graham Coldwell took his first steps (three in a row, in fact).

Mama just called me to tell me, and apparently the youngest Coldwell is just as proud as can be. I can't wait to get home and see it for myself.

Shafted!

Yesterday morning was a bit rough. Ok, it was a lot rough. It was rough to the point of me falling asleep in the den after face-planting on one of Sam's stuffed animals while Julie put Joey down for a nap and Sam played with his stickers.

He woke me up at least twice to ask me to play stickers with him; I answered yes every time (of course!), and promptly fell back asleep.

When I woke up the last time and leaped to my feet to avoid snoozing yet again, I went to scrub my face with my hands. Something felt funny, so I looked in the mirror.

My boy had plastered stickers all across my forehead while I slept.

I'm so proud.

A Little Jeopardy

Answer: This is the wrong time to get up for the day.

Question: What is 3:30am?

Joey has some learning left to do...

Game Time!

As of about a week ago, Joey now officially plays games. Like, real baby games. He has been steadily turning into a real little person, with a personality and everything, but he actively played with me for the first time just recently.

At bedtime -- which is far and away his best time of day -- he has turned into quite the octopus. I remember this stage from Sam; whenever it's time to put a diaper on, the only important thing in the world is to roll away. Turns out Joey is a strong little chunk; to put his diaper on, I frequently have to hold both his shoulders down with my feet while my hands do up the velcro.

I digress.

I had just gotten his diaper on when he -- surprise! -- rolled away and started crawling into the playroom. I scooped him up and brought him back so I could on his jammies and he giggled at me, rolled away and started crawling. I scooped him up again; same process. This time, though, when he started to crawl, he stopped, looked back at me over his shoulder, and giggled while he tore off. We must have done that half a dozen times, with him laughing as he rolled by the end of it. It was very cool.

He now also plays peekaboo. He'll grab a pillow, or a blanket, or a piece of plastic bubble wrap, or whatever's to hand, really, and pull it over his face. We'll make a big fuss about finding him, and he'll uncover himself and laugh like a loon -- charming.

EAT-ing EAT-ing Eating Machine!

Joey's dinner tonight consisted of:

-two bowls of noodle soup

-a bowl of beet risotto

-two bowls of fruit

-some yogurt for dessert

For contrast, Sam's dinner was:

-1/4 burger

-half a dozen baby potatoes

-three bites of steak

-as much fruit as we'd let him have

It's really no mystery why Sam is slender and Joey is a chunk...

Where Do They Get This Stuff?

Sam and I were playing a tickle game where I'd talk to my tickle-fingers (and they would, of course, talk back). Unsurprisingly, he started doing the same thing. He tickled me, then looked at his hands and said, "What did I say about tickling?"

*heartbeat*

"I know. Life is hard."

My Favourite Age

So Sam is at what I'm guessing is going to be one of my favourite ages. Yes, he's frustrating as all get out some -- ok, a lot -- of the time, and yes, he's getting to be fiercely independent (but only at inconvenient times), but he's finally made it to that fabled parental time: the age when reverse psychology works.

"Eat your dinner."

"I don't want to eat my dinner."

"Did you hear, mama? Sammy can't eat a super big bite of dinner. He doesn't know how."

"YES I DO!!" *chomp*

"Let's go pee."

"No, I really don't want to pee right now."

"I'm going to beat you in the race and pee first!"
"OH NO YOU'RE NOT!" *zoom*

I don't know how long it's going to last - he's clever enough that it probably won't be that long - but I'm going to enjoy every minute of it, especially seeing as it works every time. Ahhh... I can still outsmart my three-year-old. It's a good day.

HE CRAWLS!!

As of three minutes ago, Joey is officially a crawler! I don't know what the impetus was, but after a couple of weeks of trying, he has just now starting real, honest-to-goodness, hand and knees crawling.

Julie is, of course, ecstatic; Sam came rushing into the den when he heard her commotion and starting hugging Joey and giving him imaginary treats.

It was a good four minutes.

Safety Minded...

Whenever I drive somewhere, Julie always tells me, "Drive safe." It's one of those little married-people things.

It has been adopted by our little mimic.

I was heading to work this morning while Sam was staying home with Julie. "Drive safe, daddy," he said. "Thanks, little man," I answered, heading for the door.

He wasn't done.

"Don't drive your car into another car."

"Wear your seatbelt to be safe."

"Don't have any accidents."

"Have a good day, and have a good day at work."

... I drove to work with a smile on my face.

The Squawk

Sam spent a couple of pre-talking months screeching like a pterodactyl; Joey is taking a different course of action. I really shouldn't be surprised. Sam has a voice like Julie's, whereas Joey seems to have inherited mine.

This means, of course, that Sam will have trouble ordering in crowded restaurants, and Joey will get in trouble in virtually every class he's ever in.

But I digress.

Joey, in the last couple of days, has been practicing a new sound that can only be described as a squawk. Actually, I'm lying; it can also be described as "piercing", "impressively loud" and "please-stop-doing-that-I'll-buy-you-a-pony".

I hope he loses it soon. I'm not confident that he will, but what's life without a little hope?

Well, I Never!

Sam and I were driving to the grocery store this afternoon, and he asked me where mama was. (We'd left mama in the sunroom with Joey not 3 minutes earlier.)

"Where is she?" I asked.

"In the sunroom with Baby Joey," he replied.

"If you knew, why did you ask me the question?" I answered.

"I didn't," said the boy. "You did."

[Aside: I'm still not quite sure what to do with blunt denials of reality. He doesn't seem to have a problem with them, but I don't know how to respond.]

"You did!" I countered.

"You did!" he gleefully riposted.

"You did twice!" I said, launching fully into the game.

He paused for a moment, then, with dignity, murmured, "I'm not talking to you anymore."

I think I hurt myself laughing. (He found it funny, too; we then spent 10 minutes eating cars in the grocery store parking lot.)

I Wish I'd Thought Of That

Sam frequently has to poop right about dinner time. He signals this by telling us his belly hurts. Tonight, he piped up, just like clockwork, "My belly hurts..."

"Do you need to poop?" mama asked.

"No," he said. "I think it needs to have some ice cream in it."

Some Days, You Just Can't Win

Sam brought a new friend into bed with him tonight (Marcus the dog). As I was tucking him in, Sam was complaining that Marcus was barking. I said no, he was just panting. Sam was sure that he wasn't panting, so I suggested that maybe Marcus would just go to sleep.

"Pretend dogs don't sleep, daddy," he told me in his what-an-idiot voice.

"Why not?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Because they're just toys," he explained patiently.

...*sigh*

Poop, Poop And More Poop

This isn't my story, but it's too amusing not to tell.

My friend Wendy's kids can be a handful. Unfortunately, James, her youngest at almost 2, decided to be a handful at her recent birthday party.

It was a beautiful weekend, so the party was, quite naturally, outside. At some point, James followed their dog Henry to his preferred, er... defecation location. When Henry finished his business, James waded right in.

Wendy found him covered head-to-toe in dog poop.

She brought him inside dangling by an ankle and went through the arduous task of cleaning up an uncooperative 2-year-old. When she was done, she realized - unfortunately by the smell - that she had missed a spot. Said spot happened to be all up one side of her outfit; she then got to clean herself up.

The real horror comes next:

Turns out James was not unoccupied while she returned herself to a presentable state. Turns out James went into the garbage and pulled out the plastic bag that Wendy had used to scoop up what was left of Henry's business. Turns out James tore the bag open and proceeded to repeat the first act in every excruciating detail.

Happy Birthday, mama.

(Have I mentioned lately that I love my kids?)

Excess: A Story In 2 Parts

Today was Easter. It was a good day, filled with all the things you'd expect from Easter -- including, of course, chocolate.

Sam loves chocolate.

He's got a general sweet tooth, really, and he asks for an awful lot of treats. He gets maybe 2 a day (things like a gummy worm, or a chocolate egg), and truth be told, I think that's saved us a lot of grief; when it comes to things like his birthday cake, he nursed a single piece for three days. I think that because he's used to sweet things, he doesn't crave them. Consequently, he doesn't binge on them.

Normally. (Can you see where this is going?)

Part 1:

We figured that, seeing as he's getting older, we'd loosen up the chocolate chains a bit today. Sam ate accordingly. We tried to make sure that he balanced the crap eating with real-food eating, but he still had a bunch more chocolate than usual. It still didn't seem really excessive, though I will admit that I don't exactly know the normal tolerance for a 3-year-old.

I was wrong.

After the afternoon egg hunt -- spread happily over the three Compound houses -- Sam complained that he needed to go to the bathroom. Well, he was right about his belly being off... I swear, I'm starting to think that we go over to Ian and Nancy's house just so Sam can throw up. Needless to say, he felt much better after that. Also needless to say, he didn't get any more candy today.

Part 2:

Sam, as you may have understood, got a lot of chocolate. A lot. One thing that a lot of chocolate can do is throw off the balance of your system, making you sick. Another thing that a lot of chocolate can do is make you bounce around your dinner chair like some kind of giant Gummi Bear, possibly flailing your arms and yelling.

(That happened, by the way.)

Happily, we were eating outside on Ian and Nancy's deck, and Sam was feeling very biddable. So we did what any good parents would do with a hyper, willing child: we ran him. Run to the tree! we told him. Run and touch the downspout! we told him. Hop like a bunny! Go backwards on tippy-toes! Anything and everything we could think of we told him, and he did it. It was great; we had a post-dinner show, and he burned off most of the sugar high.

I'm pleased to report that he crashes like a timber falling in the woods. I expect him to wake up sometime tomorrow afternoon.

I'll Say It Again...

I am not the first to discover this, but I have discovered it: two kids is exponentially harder than one. Even if I didn't know it from the rough times, I know it from the easy times - whenever it's just one parent-one kid, Julie and laugh about how easy it is to handle one. I can still remember (just barely) the days before Joey when she and I would collapse after putting Sam to bed, exhausted. Now if we have a day with both of us and just one of them - heck, even a couple of hours - it's as good as a break.

Well, almost.

Sam's Imaginarium

We frequently wonder at the things Sam tells us. How much is he actually seeing versus how much is he making up completely? When he's telling us about things that aren't there, does he realize that they aren't really there? And most of all, where does he come up with some the stuff he says??

Julie was telling me about a conversation that she and Sam had the other day about wolves, I think. (He's very ... I don't know if fond is the word I'm looking for ... of seeing wolves about the house, along with Swiper the Fox from Dora the Explorer.) Julie was telling him how to handle that particular wolf situation and Sam looked at her, in deadly earnest, and said, "Mama, there are no wolves here. I was just 'tendin'."

Another bedtime story: one of the things we do at Sam's bedtime is remove all the scary guys (or maybe that should be Scary Guys) from his room. It started with monsters, and has evolved considerably since then. When Julie collects all the scaries, she throws them out the window. Sam always asks who went the fastest. One day, she said, "The teeny tiny little scary guys."

Sam (wide-eyed): "But, mama! They have no feet!"

... Just who are these guys? What is this kid seeing?

Sleep, Tooth, Tooth, Sleep, Sick, Tooth

Joey's sleep schedule for the past two weeks. Oy.

Grace

We say grace before meals, and we've taught Sam to do the same. It's a bit of an adventure, honestly -- though really, what isn't it with him? -- we never know how it's going to go. There are a couple of main flavours of SamGrace:

• regular - we say grace
• hi-test - everything done at maximum speed volume. Entertainingly, this also entails Sam smoking himself in the head and stomach when he crosses himself.
• true Catholic - sobbing

On top of the main variant, there are a couple of bizarre idiosyncrasies that we can't seem to get rid of:

• for the longest time, he had a real touchstone with the word "bounty". Often, grace would start with bounty, we'd stop in the middle when we got there (and then normally have to each say it -- including Sam's high-pitched "bounty!" for Joey), and end with at least one "bounty".
• he has never - not once - touched both shoulders when crossing himself. At least, not with the same hand; he frequently hits both shoulders at once.
• until about a week ago, he wouldn't say "we are" (as in, "we are about to receive"). He still won't say "through".

We say it, though. I'm sure God understands; it's the idea, not the implementation.

He's A Keeper

Supper tonight was, predictably, chaotic. (Predicting chaos on any given night would rarely go amiss.) At one point Joey pulled over a water glass, dumping it on both the table and Julie's lap. I jumped up to get a towel, and as I brought it back, Sam came trotting back to the table as well.

"Here, mama," he said. "It's for Joey's hands."

And he handed her the kleenex he'd run and gotten.

You're Wrong, Wrong, Wrong

I often send Sam in to wake Julie up in the mornings. I figure he's harder to ignore than I am.

This morning, Julie asked him how he was doing. "Good," he answered. "How are you doing?"

"Tired," replied mama.

"No," said Sam. "How are you doing?"

"Tired."

"No, how are you doing?"

"Tired."

"No, how are you doing?" (getting frustrated)

"Sleepy. I'm doing sleepy."

"NO, HOW ARE YOU DOING???"

"*sigh* ...good."

From The Mouth Of Babe

I came into the bedroom one morning to find a very chastened looking little boy. "It's because I barked at him," Julie said. Sam, very seriously, looked up and said, "People don't bark, mama. Dogs bark."

__________________

I'm not a morning person - never have been.  I don't do well with children wanting to wake up at ridiculous hours.  So when Sam woke up at 5:40am and told me he wanted to get up, I did everything I could to convince him to go back to sleep.  It worked - at least long enough for me to walk down the hall to our room, at which point he called me back, saying "I did sleep!"

After fighting with him for about half an hour, I finally said that he could get up.  "But I'm not happy about it, little man," I said.

"Here's Mister Monkey to make you feel better," he replied, passing me his stuffed animal.

"It's going to take more than Mister Monkey to make me happy," said Too-Early-In-The-Morning Daddy.

He flashed me an angelic smile and said, "A little bit happy?"

_____________  

Sam, while Julie was rocking him just before bedtime: "I don't even want to talk, mama.  I just want to breathe."

First Blood

We had our first bleedout today. Julie kept Sam home to go to a party with Joey and all the other compound kids. Sam, unsurprisingly, can be a handful, even when he's being helpful.

Joey was in the crib while Julie went to get diaper changing supplies. She came back in the room just in time to see Sam offering Joey a big plastic toy -- by more-or-less hucking it over the side of the crib. Needless to say it landed square on Joey's nose.

So the baby is howling and bleeding, Sam is abjectly apologizing, and Julie is encountering (as it turns out) her first bloody nose. Luckily, Joey had pitched his forehead onto the crib rail 5 minutes earlier -- yes, it bruised -- and they were all going out in public. *sigh*

There are times when I'm glad that I work.

I Knew He Had To...

"Do you need to go pee?"

"Nope."

"Yes you do. You're grabbing yourself. Let's go."

"I don't have to!"

"Come on..."

"NO! I don't have to!! No! NO!!! N-"

*lands on toilet; a flood of pee immediately*

"I told you so."

*sullen glare*

Joey's Latest Exploits

It sneaks up on you, you know? It wasn't until I saw something new at supper that I realized exactly how many new things Joey is doing these days. It's remarkable, now that I stop to think about it, but they happen in such small steps that it's sometimes hard to see that long view. After all, nobody wants to read that he's rolling slightly better today than he was last week. Funny how enough baby steps gets you somewhere new...

Let's see - what hasn't been recorded for posterity (and the grandparents)?

Joey is now mobile. He's not quite crawling -- though he is starting to bring his knees up under his body and push with them a little bit -- but he's carpet swimming like nobody's business. His typical targets are: random toy; whatever Sam is holding; mama's lap. (The best part about the way he goes for mama's lap is that he can't really push himself up yet, so he just kinda aims his face for her knees and keeps pushing until something ends up in her lap.)

Joey is back to sleeping decently well. He seems to do best when I put him on his side; we've heard him wake up a number of times lately and then go back to sleep, so he's pretty much on par with Sam on that front. I can handle being up once or twice a night. Now, if only he'd realize that the day doesn't really start until at least 6:30...

Dude is a tiny eating machine. I haven't yet figured out its nefarious purpose, but whatever it is, it sure needs a lot of fuel. He eats as much as, if not more than, Sam at a lot of suppertimes, and it almost doesn't matter what. Cereals, vegetables, fruit, meat, whatever we're having all blended up, Cheerios, anything else he can fit in his mouth... I know that he takes little bites and all, but he's almost always the last one done - and he never stops.

On the eating front, he's also getting really good at feeding himself. I can put a bowl of Cheerios in front of him and they slowly disappear. Granted, the bowl normally gets upended, but then he eats them all off of the floor/table/lap. It's like he's turning into a real person.

As of this evening, two more exciting things have happened. First, he has his third tooth! It's one of his front top teeth, and as of about 7 o'clock, it's finally peeking through the gum. About time! We've known it's been on its way for a week or two, so it's nice to finally see it.

Secondly, at dinner tonight, while waving his little arms ferociously waiting for his next bite, I hear, "Mamamamamamama!" It was the first time I'd heard it, and -- according to Julie -- the first time he's said it. It was very cool. I know that it's not with actual understanding of who mama is, but it was a start!

I think that's everything. As I said, it's harder to notice sometimes than I would have expected, especially after already going through this once. Sometimes that forest is just sorta there, and you don't realize it until you look at all the new trees.

I Knew He Was Clever...

Sometimes, if he's had a particularly good night, Sam gets a treat first thing in the morning. Typically these days, it's a gummy something-or-other. His favourites are the sharks; personally, I don't like them, so when he asks what I want, I normally choose something else.

These days are the "me too" days, so invariably, when I choose something else, he suddenly wants that other thing, too. Very endearing, let me tell you. :)

So the other morning, right after our shower, he looks up at me with the most mournful expression on his face. He tells me, with tears practically falling from his eyes, that the bear misses the mama shark.

I was, understandably, baffled.

"The bear," he tells me, "misses his mama shark."

Hmm, think I. "You mean the gummy bear you ate?" "Yup." "Misses a gummy shark?" "Yup." I asked him what we should do.

"I should take a gummy shark, and eat it all up, and it will go 'splash' in my belly and the bear will have his friend!"

...Indeed.

Hindenberg

Sam and I went out yesterday to run a bunch of errands. "After we go to all the places I need to go, we should go somewhere you want to go," I told him. I was expecting something like the park, or maybe Chapters or the grocery store.

"Hindenberg," he said.

"Hindenberg?" I asked. "Yup," he replied. I had no idea where he'd gotten the name, but thought I'd see what I could find out. After a bit of quizzing, I found out that Hindenberg was very far away and that we'd need to fly a plane there.

Turns out there was more to the story. Julie mentioned Hindenberg at dinner tonight, so I restarted the questions. He never stopped to think about his answers, and I didn't lead him at all.

• he wants to go to Hindenberg to visit his friends
• his friends' names are (I think) "Uffie Nuffie"
• Uffie Nuffie is two people. No, five. No, men and girls and boys. No, a man and lots of girls and lots of boys.
• there are no stores in Hindenberg
• it's possible that Uffie Nuffie is not only the sole reason to visit Hindenberg, but may in fact be the only thing in Hindenberg at all

I can't wait to see where this kid's imagination goes. I'm terrified, but I think if I start now, I can mold him to use his powers for good.

Soothers

Sam slept with a soother for a long time. A long time. Not there's necessarily anything wrong with that -- unless, say, he would, I don't know, wake up and wake ME up because he'd lost it. Or, even better, because he'd lost the extra one that he liked to have in his hand. Oy.

Julie and I decided that 3 years old was old enough to lose the soother. We talked about it for a long time beforehand, trying to figure out how to take them away without causing a serious meltdown. We'd planned on sabotaging them (cutting holes in them) until they were no longer comfortable to have in, and we started telling Sam that soothers stopped working when you turned 3.

In the days leading up to his birthday, there was some trepidation. Ok, replace "some" with "mountains" and "trepidation" with "abject terror".

We'd told Brad about the plan, such as it was. When I picked up Sam from daycare on his birthday, Brad tells me that Sam napped -- for 2 1/2 hours, no less -- with no soother (and virtually no complaint). "It was the Three-Year-Old Fairy," Brad tells me. "Good enough!", says I.

As soon as we got home, I raced upstairs and stole the soothers out of Sam's room. Now we had a story; now we were ready.

That night, when Sam asked for his soothers, I told him that they were gone. The Three-Year-Old Fairy had taken them; he was a big boy now, and didn't need them. Sam slept.

Now, it wasn't quite that easy; he did ask for them a lot for the first couple of days, but we held the line and eventually stopped even answering him when he asked for them. We fleshed out our story, and it turned out that the Three-Year-Old Fairy took them to give to another little kid that didn't have any. (For two days, the big complaint wasn't that they were gone - it was that the fairy hadn't said please. There were emails to and from the fairy about that one.)

But he continued to go without, and he now sleeps better than he has in months. Life is better.

Apologies

*sigh* Real life. Sorry. We now (hopefully) return to our regularly scheduled programming.

(On the bright side, "real life" has mostly consisted of actually getting bits of a real life back. Stay tuned. :) )

Are You Sure You're 3?

The cake had a bunch of candy as decorations, and Sam had been talking about getting cake -- and then talking about which piece he wanted -- for days. He blew out his candles, excitedly grabbed the candy-filled piece he wanted, and...

...pecked at it for about an hour. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying it, but it sure seemed like he was happier to have than to eat. We gave him his cake at 11:30am Sunday morning, and he finished eating his piece at about 7pm Monday night. Aren't kids supposed to stick their faces in the icing or something?

Not that this is a bad thing, mind you; we know that we can give him cake without fear of a sugar rush...

(After thinking on this a little bit, I wonder if it's because we give him little bits of candy fairly regularly. He often has one or two little treats -- a jelly bean, an inch of a candy cane, a swedish berry -- a day, so he both wasn't jonesing for sugar and was used to only having a bit at a time. Maybe we're accidentally brilliant!)

Sam's Birthday Party

It was great. The party was Sunday morning, and Sam went to bed in a great mood -- the one where he's bubbly and excited about everything, but still listens (sort of) and is a good boy. Happily, he woke up in the same mood (and it's lasted until now so far). We had a couple of last minute kid drop-outs (life got in the way in one instance, and the Norwalk Virus in the other), so there were only 3 kids Sam's age, but he seemed pretty happy with that.

I know that starting probably next year, we'll have to have organized events for birthday parties, but boy, are 3-year-olds ever easy to plan for! We had one game where they threw foam blocks at targets, and a bunch of balloons to play with. That was it, and that was all they needed. (Come to think of it, that's about all we'd need at an adult party, too! Oh, and drinks.)

We threw things, we ran around, we played with balloons, we opened presents, and then we had cake. Then everybody went home, and we had naptime. Fantastic!

Instant Chaos

I've been meaning to talk about this one for a while, because it just keeps happening -- and I get the impression that it'll be this way for, well, ever.

I first really noticed it at Christmas. Julie was taking a nap, and Nana and Poppy had Sam out for lunch. Joey and I were playing on the floor together (at least as much as he played a couple of months ago), and the house was quiet. I heard the garage door open, and then

the door is open and people are bustling and Sam is wailing and Joey starts crying and Julie comes downstairs and Nana and Poppy are talking to each other and possibly to me and it turns out Sam fell down the stairs (he's fine, but shaken) and Joey is still crying -- probably because of the bustle and

my heart rate and my blood pressure are double what they were not half a minute ago.

It's amazing how the noise and activity levels can shift so radically, so quickly. I'm not sure whether it's because we have two kids, or because of Sam's age, but I suspect yes. Sometimes it happens when we try to sit down for supper; sometimes it's the middle of the night when they both wake up and are upset. Sometimes it's the middle of the morning when everything is just lovely. I've given up trying to understand, and am just working on letting it wash over me, like a loud tide.

The Cake

Today was Sam's 3rd birthday party. More on that later, but for now: The Cake!

Great job, Mama!

Snippets

On why we couldn't move one of the two stepstools out of the bathroom:

"...This stool is that stool's friend!"

__________________

Sam picked up a couple of coins off my nightside table, and asked if he could have them. I said that he could. He looked at me and said, "It's probably mine."

__________________

While at breakfast recently, Sam was squirming relentlessly in Julie's lap.

"You'll have to go back to your own chair if you don't stop squirming," she said. Immediately he sat still except for his hands, which he started shaking in front of him.

"My hands are squirming!" he cried.

***

When his hands inevitably banged into each other, he stopped, stared at one of them, and asked Mama, "My hands touched - can you put this hand in a timeout?"

Sleeptalking

If only we had a tape recorder or something in his room...

Sam has always talked a little bit in his sleep. It's typically been the occasional word, with a phrase or two every now and then, and he's only done it maybe half a dozen times. Two nights ago took the cake.

For about three hours, he'd periodically have conversations, little two or three minutes talks. There was some other party involved, I think; he had the right pauses, and seemed to be responding at times. Neither Julie nor I ever made anything out, though, except once: I walked up to his door to see if I could hear any more clearly -- note that he was speaking very clearly and distinctly, just not quite loud enough -- and I heard him say, "Wake up. Wake up!" then something else.

I hope he keeps doing it; it really is the coolest thing. (Of course, it might have been cooler for me if I hadn't just finished a Stephen King novel where a little girl's imaginary friend turns out to be a creepy something-or-other, but that's my hangup, I suppose...)

Plague and Apocalypse

Outcast! Unclean! Staye away from this house, all ye who would remaine whole!

...in other words, the kids are sick. Joey been congested for a week and a half now, and isn't that fun; his nose is stuffed up, and he sleeps with a soother. Let me repeat that; he can't breathe through his nose, and he sleeps with something stuck in his mouth. We now have a humidifier in his room, nasal drops, vaporub, and a pillow propping him up to sleep. (It seems to be working; the last couple of nights have been almost normal sleeping for him.)

Sam picked up a chest cold, I think. His nose is running like a faucet -- and he's in a "I refuse to blow my nose for any reason" phase right now -- and he's got a nasty, racking cough. As well, if you listen to him, his ear/throat/arms/knee/hand/belly/back hurts. Nothing consistent, which leads me to believe that nothing else is really wrong, aside from him having a bug of some sort. I don't want to say that he's faking; when he's miserable, he's the most pathetic thing you've ever seen. It's just that he goes from miserable to normal (yelling, jumping off the stairs, telling jokes) in the space of 15 seconds or so, and vice versa. My guess is he'll be fine in a day or two.

Now, as long as no one opens the 3rd vial...

That Was A First...

Sam woke up about 10:30pm, as is his wont, and he had to go pee. At least, I'm assuming he did, based on past behaviour; he wasn't coherent enough to actually say anything intelligible. We got to the bathroom, he sat down and leaned his head onto my shoulder.

And then he fell asleep.

I mean, totally out. Not dozing, not just resting, snoring. On my shoulder. On the toilet.

I almost didn't have the heart to wake him, but a) I've gotta think waking up on the toilet would be mighty disorienting, and b) I was in a funny squinched up position -- and didn't really feel like staying on the floor by the toilet for much longer.

I scooped him up, tucked him back into bed, and he was out again before the covers finished settling.

Good Brothers

In the past week or so, Sam has started really interacting with Joey. Sam will push Joey on his swing, or wrestle with him (which amounts to clambering on top of him and 'helping' him roll over), or feed him at supper time. It's great to see Sam wanting to do things with Joey; it's even better to see the huge smiles they both get. Every time.

Real Games!

Cool thing happened today; I taught Sam some games. Some actual, honest-to-goodness, other-people-know-them games. We played tag and Hide-and-Seek (well, sorta; the idea was there, though). It was the coolest thing, getting to play a game with rules and interaction, and seeing him just get it.

Not Really Getting The Concept...

Sam loves to hide. Loves to hide, loves to jump out and scare people, loves the whole thing. The only thing is, I don't think he really understands what hiding is.

It is not, for example, standing behind sheer curtains. It is not telling people that you're going to hide behind said curtains. It is not pointing to a place and telling people that they are to "hide there". (He also gets genuinely annoyed when he 'hides' me in a place and I move before he finds me. I do it just to get him riled. :) )

He sure does love it, though.

He Rolls!

He's an official Roller now. He doesn't do it all the time, but he can (and does) do the full revolution if you, say, leave a toy just out of reach. The best part about this is that now he can sleep on his side or his tummy; maybe he'll be happier that way.

Attempt #1: the nap that's currently enjoying is on his side, because he just wouldn't settle on his back. Fingers crossed!

Early To Bed...

...too damn early to rise.

We've been trying to put the kids down a little bit earlier for a whole bunch of reasons -- the top two being 1) to get more evening back, and 2) because rumour has it they may actually be physically primed to sleep a little bit earlier than they've been doing. Now, instead of 7:30-8:00 for Joey and (unfortunately) 8:30-9:00 for Sam, we're aiming for 7:15-ish and 7:45-ish. It's going well, but...

...Joey, who has been doing a good 7 hour chunk when we first put him down has gotten up before 6 for the past 4 days. And this is after a ~5am feed. He'll stir about quarter to, Julie will feed him, he'll take waaaaay too long to get back to sleep (normally around quarter after), and then he'll be awake for the day at 5:45 or so.

The real pain in this one (aside from having to get up before Dawn's even seen her crack, let alone presented it) is that, when I stumble down the stairs with him and sit in my comfy chair to wait for sunlight, he falls right back asleep in my arms. Do you think he stays asleep if I try to put him back in bed? *sigh*

This too shall pass...

The 2 1/2 year old mind - part the "this one"

"Daddy, today I put some rice up my nose. Not all of it; just some."

___________

(Educational note: a quetzal is a kind of long-tailed bird.)

Mommy: Can you 'caw' like a quetzal?

Sam: Quetzals don't caw - they say, "Can I have some bird food?"

*sage nod*

Sam:...they can't say 'please'.

___________

When we sing Sam lullabies, we wrap him up in one of his blankets. Some nights, even trying to pick which blanket can be a struggle. Tonight, Julie said, "We're using your green blanket."

"No, mama, the red one," came the inevitable reply.

"We'll use the red one tomorrow night," she came back snappily.

Sam sighed, rolled his eyes, and said with a long-suffering tone, "Why do you have to do this every night, mama?"

General Sleep Update

Quick note for those of you following at home: things improve. Sam now goes to sleep more easily than he did before The Incident, and though he's still waking up more than I'd like in the middle of the night, they are at least short sessions, and we're working on "when is it appropriate to wake Daddy up". Joey has been going down relatively easily (8 Brahms' from crying to crib tonight) and has only been eating twice a night. It's not perfect, but it's better -- and still improving.

Things improve.

They're Fiercer Than You'd Think

Every night Sam gets three lullabies. The current roster is Farewell To Nova Scotia, then The Mockingbird Song, then Brahms' Lullaby (and always in that order). I have a tendency to start singing too low, and kind of bottom out when I get to "...the seabound coast".

Apparently, this is now how the song is to be sung. Mama gets in trouble if she doesn't sing that line all gravelly. Now, this isn't that surprising; Sam seems to have very specific ways that just about everything should be done. What was surprising was that Julie got the reason tonight.

"Mama, you have to sing like this *demonstration* or the fish will be angry." Or the fish will be angry. There was one line in each song that had to sung just so to keep the fish mollified.

I had no idea.

Do The Locomotion

Joey's gonna be crawling by the next thaw -- count on it. He's up on all fours at this point, and though he normally ends up on his face, he seems pretty determined to figure it out. He still won't roll onto his stomach; we'll see how this one plays out.

That's A Good Question...

We had a playdate with a work friend of Julie's on Sunday. Her kids are almost 2 and almost 4; Sam was thrilled. He played with Stella (the 4-year-old) on his own for ages, and they were both quite adamant -- and impressively eloquent -- about not wanting to leave.

("I will say something bad," said Stella. "To who?" I asked. "To the other people, and then we can stay together forever." Cute at 4; creepy at 30... She got lucky this time.)

While talking about at dinner last night, Sam looked up at us and asked, "Why does Stella have a giant?" Julie and I stared at each other blankly; we hadn't seen the toys they'd been playing with, or paid much attention to their games, so if it was a reference to something, we missed it.

And then I got it.

"What's her giant for?" I ventured, dreading the answer.

"For peeing with!" was the exasperated response.

*sigh* "She has a vagina because she's a girl, little man," I said.

I don't think that was the last we'll have of this conversation.

Two Firsts

Two new things for Joey: tonight he drank from a cup for the first time, and two days ago he rolled over to his tummy for the first time. One of those is exciting; one of them, not so much. I'll leave it up to you to decide which is which.

The Best Thing

Sam had a... something last night. He woke up about 10:30, wailing, and just kept doing it while Mama tried to settle him. It wasn't really crying, more of a formless noise, and he couldn't seem to stop. Or open his eyes, really, or tell us what was wrong.

After about 10 minutes, I went in to try to help. After trying unsuccessfully to soothe him, I asked him, mostly in frustration, what he wanted. "I want to go HOME!" he sobbed. I picked him up, Mama wrapped a blanket around us, and I walked the length of the room with him, telling him we were on our way home now. I laid him down, tucked him in, and he was asleep before I made it to his door.

I'm convinced that all kids are crazy, and you never know what's going to set them off.

I'm also convinced that making everything ok is the best thing I'll ever do.

I'm Coming Back, Honest

Updates have been sparse lately due to, first, holidays, then crippling sleep deprivation. Last night Sam didn't get out of bed, and didn't freak out if he couldn't see one of us in the hall while he was falling asleep. I consider this to be great progress, and will, quite possibly, lead to a return to normal (ha, ha) life.

All my posts until then will probably be quite short, as I'm doing them *gasp* from the office.

The Big Reveal

Right. Kids, balance, delicate, yadda yadda yadda.

The mystery is much less mysterious now.

Over the weekend (probably Sunday), we had company in the evening. Specifically, we had company while I was putting Sam down -- note: this is important foreshadowing. To be polite, and to allow us our privacy, somebody turned off the volume on Sam's monitor. It wasn't turned off -- the power light was still on -- but the volume was totally off.

Can anybody see where this is going?

When I finally heard him, he was almost hysterical. He may have been crying for upwards of 4 minutes. We finally got him settled after about half an hour of soothing. Somehow, that's translated into a reluctance to go to sleep and some severe mistrust about us showing up if he cries. Who could have guessed?

*sigh* It's times like this when I really wish he was more logical. "Yes, I took a long time to get here. Once. In 2 years. And for technical reasons that have been rectified. You're good now, right?" Wrong.

This too shall pass, this too shall pass... (Bright side: Joey slept really well last night, and Sam, though up a couple of times, went back to sleep easily and didn't climb out of bed. Tonight shall be better still!)

The Great Backslide of Aught-Ten

Children are a delicate contraption, with many parts and no warranty. Once placed into gentle equilibrium, the utmost care must be used to ensure that nothing disrupts the subtle harmonies of their lives.

Now, if only they never changed, and were never placed in any situations at all...

There is a new foster at Brad's house. His name is Dante, he arrived on Monday, and the excitement of his arrival apparently pushed all knowledge of how to go to sleep out of Sam's head. Monday night had him waking up three times in four hours (cleverly, the same four hours that Joey actually slept through). Last night, Sam decided that he didn't want to go to bed, and refused to stay in bed once we'd closed the door. For THREE HOURS. There was screaming. There was crying. There were threats, and arguing, and cajoling, and ignoring. (Some of this was even done by us.) He finally went down after I laid down in the hall with his door open so he could see me.

Tonight, I just laid down in the hall, and slunk away as Sam went quiet. I'm not proud, but it's better than the alternative.

Here's hoping he remembers soon, because this sucks.

Mama's Birthday

We have a good boy (and a great daycare guy); Sam came home today with a coloured birthday card and an E-Z-Bake cake for Julie. He was very excited to give them to her (though, admittedly, that was probably partially because he was expecting the get some cake for himself).

Yesterday, as we were driving home from Brad's place, I asked Sam what he wanted to get Mama for her birthday. His answer? "Lots of presents!"

I suggested some beads, both to coincide with Julie's new obsession and because I'd just bought some that he could give her. Nope. He was having none of it. "What should we get?" I asked him. "Chocolate chips!" he replied. 10 minutes and two 1kg bags of chocolate chips later, we were ready.

Unsurprisingly, the present was a hit.

Don't Ask, Don't Yell

I'm learning all the parent-y tricks as I go. My latest lesson: a great way to avoid a 'scene' when leaving the house is to not tell your children you're going.

Sam is still pretty clingy; if I'm going somewhere, he wants to go. (It doesn't matter where -- grocery store, garage, bathroom, the other side of the room...) If I'm trying to snag a couple of things from the drugstore, it's a 10 minute trip by myself, or a 35 minute epic with Boy. I've tried saying goodbye - add at least 10 minutes before the outing starts, and it normally results in me taking him along. (Note: I love having him with me, but sometimes, I really am just trying to duck out for something.)

The solution? Duck out while he's distracted. No tears, no scenes, and quick errands! It's brilliant. At least for me; I don't know what happens at home, but hey! I'm already gone.

(Is it sad that I sneak away from my almost-3-year-old?)

Bedtime - The Horror

Oi vey. This is apparently Crazy Week in ChildSleepVille. Joey spent three days taking 45 mins to drop off rather than ~15, I haven't managed 2 hours of continuous sleep in the last two nights, and Sam took an hour and a half tonight, complete with multiple breakdowns, before he settled enough to sleep.

People fall asleep at night, all by themselves; people sleep through the night. I know they do, because I can fall asleep, and I hear stories from people that wake up -- for the first time -- in the morning, with, you know, natural light. I can only assume from this that my children will also figure out how the whole 'sleep' thing works. When this happens, I'm sleeping in. EVERY DAY.

Quotable quotes

Sam: That's Sammy candy!

Me: I don't think so, buddy.

Sam: ...maybe I should try it and find out.

___________

While out shoveling, I notice Sam has something in his mouth. He shows me his mittens full of snow: "That's some good ice!"

___________

Overheard (to Sam): I don't care if it fits, I don't want you to put it in your mouth!

Joey the Eating Prodigy

I'm sure it's some sort of record how well this boy is taking to solid food. We now eat banana, apple, pear, carrot, squash and sweet potato, and more quantity than I was really expecting this early in the process. He still doesn't understand that it takes longer to get food with a spoon than with, say, a natural spigot; there are some issues with that (read: he yells an awful lot from about the time the spoon leaves his mouth until it goes back in). What really impresses me is how he eats banana, pear and apple unmashed, and he's a real pig about it. Verve, that's what he's got. Verve and gusto.

The other side of this coin (quite literally) is diapers. *sigh* It's been a good long while since I had to put another human being's poop in a toilet; I was getting to like it. S'alright: this too is just a phase. It's just a phase. It's just a phase. It's just a phase...

Oh, right...

...I'd forgotten about the joy of the random, multi-hour wake-up in the middle of the night. Thanks, Joey, but I was pretty happy not remembering.

Holiday Break

So, that was unplanned...

Ton of backlog, on the way. Fear not, brave explorers!