Say Again?

SK has a new buzzword: absotutely.

It's a pleasantly versatile word. He has said, "I am super-duper, absotutely not sleepy," and "I absotutely need a snack."

Not to be out-talked, WB is expanding his vocabulary. His exclamations of "Uh-Oh" and "bye-bye" are becoming clearer. He says "Da-Da," "Hello," "ah-da" (all done), "Ba-Ba" (Bubba), "Ow," and "ah-oh" (help). He pants to imitate a dog and tries to mew like a cat. Of course, he knows far more signs than words.

The best expressions either of them give employ neither words nor signs. They give hugs and kisses aplenty, and those never need explanation.

Gross

I've usually taken the high road on this blog; to avoid writing about things that are less than edifying. Specifically, I've avoided writing about body functions and other base elements of human existence.

And yet, dealing with bodily fluids is a significant part of my day. At times, I am elbow deep in more than one substance, and even from more than one person.

This is as far from a boring job as a person could have. For example, the other day, SK was helping me prepare dinner. He was standing on a chair by the counter top, busy stirring ingredients in a mixing bowl. WB was throwing a fit because he wanted to be up on the chair as well. Well, I picked him up to comfort him, and he started vomiting on me. I reached for the kitchen towel, and between my shirt and the towel, managed to contain the, um, mess.

At that precise moment, smoke started pouring out of the oven which I had been preheating. SK was oblivious to the situation, as four year olds often are, and was excitedly--and repeatedly--asking me if he could eat some of the shredded cheese out of the bowl.

Seriously, there is just nothing that can prepare you for this. I just thought of the advice a friend gave me when she was running a daycare from her home. "When all five kids are crying," she said, "I just tell myself to not make it any worse than it already is."

So I took a deep breath, and commenced to making the situation better. One thing at a time. Soon, everyone was alright, and the fires were--literally--all put out. (Okay, so it wasn't a fire. The day before, sweet potatoes had oozed onto the floor of the oven and it almost caught on fire. Slight, but important, distinction.)

And that is how my oven got clean. Similar situations have prompted my living room carpet to be cleaned, fresh sheets on the beds, the shower scrubbed, and so on. My house has never been this clean, because it has never been this dirty!

Much of the gross factor around here is my fault. I've taught SK that frogs, lizards, worms and some spiders are our friends. We dig in the dirt and we compost, so we are often immersed in the grunge of the natural world. He still thinks slugs are cool, even though I've told him they are bad guys because they eat our plants. The other day, I found a giant slug on the back porch. It was extremely gross--slimy, fat, and writhing. I went to get a shovel to toss it elsewhere, and while I was turned around, SK bent down and PICKED IT UP. "It's okay, little slug," he chimed. "We'll move you to a new home. It's okay little guy."

I couldn't help it. "Aagghh!" I yelled, and scared the poor kid out of his sandals. "What?" he cried. "Eww, put it down, put it down!" I ordered. "Why?" he said. I had scared him. "It's gross," I replied. "Oh," he said, and I could tell he wanted so say, "So?"

Honestly, this is what I dreamed about. I always wanted to share the wonder of life, even the yucky parts, with my children, much the same way my parents shared it with me. Everything is interesting, and curiosity is a good thing.

I remember being around SK's age when my mom woke me early one morning (big mistake). She had been preparing breakfast and wanted to show me the meal worms she found. I guess it was supposed to be an impromptu science lesson, yet the end result was that I don't think I ate much breakfast that morning. My Dad would tell us the Latin names for plants when we walked through the fields. My grandpa is an avid naturalist and born teacher, and my grandmother was always ready to celebrate even the smallest or simplest of joys.

So, though I may jokingly complain about my children's fascination with all things gross, I am, in fact, thankful to be celebrating with them all the wonders of being alive in God's creation.

The Monkey Tree

As I was out in the front yard visiting with the neighbor about two weeks ago, I plopped SK up in the lowest limb of the Dogwood tree. "You're just like a Monkey!" she told him. Since then, he's been calling it his Monkey Tree. Several times a day, he asks me if he can go climb his monkey tree. He's been calling himself a monkey. He acts, at times, like a monkey.

Yesterday, before I started mowing the lawn, he asked me again about the Monkey Tree. I explained to him that I was not going to stop and start the lawn mower to get him in and out of the tree. If he wanted to get up in it, he would have to stay up until I was done. "Okay, mom," he readily agreed.

About two passes around the yard later, I saw him slide down the trunk. I think he was attempting to climb down, but it ended up looking more like a slide down a fireman's pole. Oh, how he cried! He has scrapes on his stomach and the insides of both arms.

Once his crying had subsided a bit, he confessed, "Maybe I'm not a monkey after all."
"You'll learn, Buddy," I encouraged him. "You'll practice and get better."
He didn't seem intrigued by the idea of practicing any more of that.

But it's been on his mind. This morning, he said, "Mom, I think maybe we should wait until my Monkey Tree grows some more, bigger branches. Then maybe we should climb it."

Ah, the undeniable siren call of vertical objects. There's no need to ask, "Why did you climb it?" The answer is always, "Because it was there." They are conquerors, who ascend to the top of every pile of dirt and every piece of furniture. I love that about them both. They are adventurers!

T-Ball

Sk's last game was in May, but here are some pictures from his first game.
We had so much fun being a part of T-Ball this Spring. He learned so much, and we were very proud of him.

At the end of May, we had an end of season party. He was so proud of his trophy and official ball, and liked being applauded when his name was called. There were pizza and cookies and swimming too!

Eighteen Months

This post is proving more difficult to write than I had anticipated. How do I encapsulate my thoughts and feelings toward my little boy, who celebrated his 18-month birthday today? I've searched through my pictures for the one that captures all his spunk, animation and wonder. It doesn't exist.

Truth be told, this boy doesn't fit inside a camera, or words. He won't often be held still--in arms, chairs, pixels or otherwise. He. Is. Busy.

He battles big brother and says "Argh!"He teaches me that laundry baskets aren't really for laundry.


He snuggles with his brother and watches cartoons. He loves to dance along, too.
He plays with dirt, dump trucks, sticks and rocks. Always rocks. He screams and writhes during diaper changes and dressing, and is fascinated with the potty. He can use it, and he's proud of that. He has two new molars for a total of 10 teeth. He loves to chew on his tooth brush.

He still likes to nurse, most often to soothe his nerves and feel secure. We don't dare leave the house without his Lovey, a satin and fleece security blanket. It's only half of the comfort equation though, his thumb is the other. Thankfully, he usually sleeps through the night.

He loves to play peek-a-boo, hide-and-seek, tickle monster, and chase. But the ultimate, supreme, most magnificent game is wrestling Daddy.He likes having friends over to play.At the end of the day, he knows a good spot when he finds it.

A year and a half ago, at about this time of night, I was alone in a hospital room with him, my newborn son. I remember so clearly how in the quiet, the fog of all the days events suddenly lifted, and I simply looked at him for a long time. I fell in love.

Even though he is testing our boundaries with vigor, and getting everything in the house under 2 feet sticky, dirty, and worn, and pestering his brother, I'm still in love. Even when he screams in the grocery store and throws his food on the ground and eats mud, I'm still in love. He is an indescribably precious gift from God, a source of great joy, and forever, my son.

Happy 18-month Birthday, Wonder Boy!

Spiderfish

KiSA came home with a surprise about three weeks ago: Fish number 2. Aka "Son of Cheech" or "Cheech Jr.".

I didn't write about him for a few weeks in case he didn't make it. But he's still circling around his bowl, so you get to meet him.
Fish do not model well. This is the best shot I got out of probably 15. It's absurd how much time I wasted on this. So, here is the picture of the blue fish. May he live long.

That, actually, was the sum of SK's greeting to him. "You can't die like Cheech did, okay?" He decided to name him Spiderfish. (Because we're all spiders, you know. I'm Spidermom, there's Spiderbaby and Spiderdad, too.) Feeding time is a big deal, with both boys clamoring to toss in their share of pellets. The poor thing sits up on the mantel because that's the only place left in the house the boys can't get to, which dramatically increase his chances for longevity, as fish go.

WB likes to wave to him, blow kisses, and beat on his bowl. He also makes the sign for fish. SK like to tell him stories, mostly about shooting spiderwebs under water.

All Clear

I realized I left off with a bit of a cliffhanger about the poison ivy. End result? It is eradicated from the yard and I didn't have any reaction.

We have now harvested one pepper, one yellow squash, lettuce, spinach and herbs from our garden. The pepper and spinach were turned into vegetable enchiladas, and the squash went into a kind of fridge-and-pantry-diving pasta dish. I carefully chopped up the squash, some carrots, ham and Velveeta and tossed it with some noodles and peas. I finely chopped the basil and oregano and stirred it in. I was doing all this fine dicing and slicing because I was hoping that if the pieces were small enough, the boys would eat more vegetables. Oh, how we all did laugh.

When they were finished, do you know what I found on their plates? No pasta, and no ham, but plenty of finely chopped vegetables. Most days they'll scarf down their spinach and broccoli, but other days, it just doesn't happen. They're definitely getting enough nutrition to grow, though. I used to be able to pick them both up at the same time. Now, they're just too heavy!

Speaking of growing, yesterday WB learned how to climb up on top of the changing table. I found both of them sitting proudly up there. SK insisted that he didn't help his little brother, and sure enough, later I caught WB in the act--unassisted. He also has figured out how to unlatch the lock to the screen door to the back porch, which is off-limits to wee ones. I had to add the task of replacing the latch to my handy KiSA's ever-growing list of honey-dos!

We're enjoying a bit of summer, too. We've gone swimming once (it needs to be a lot more!) and played in the sprinkler a lot. They like wheelbarrow rides and Popsicles on the back steps, too. Now the mud rings in the tub are sticky, too.

Swimmin' in an Ocean...

...of Calamine lotion!

Actually, I hope it doesn't come to that. You see, I spent most of this morning and into the afternoon pulling poison ivy out of our backyard. It exploded this spring and had taken over the back 1/4 of the yard. It had been raining for the past two days, so the ground was nice and soft for pulling it up by the roots. I took every precaution I could, and cleaned up with Tecnu. So hopefully, there will be no rash tomorrow. At least I now know that the yard is safe for the boys.

We went to the "shark restaurant" last night. It's a local seafood place that has a large aquarium in the middle with small sharks and other tropical fish in it. That was the most well-behaved WB has been at a restaurant in a long time. Both boys were fascinated! A friend introduced him to ice cubes, and he has been throwing fits to get the ice out of our drinks at restaurants. He also has discovered the myriad ways to have fun with a straw. Exploring food is a big deal right now, such as when he realized that banana slices roll. Table manners aren't high on a toddler's list, but fun is!

Also today, KiSA discovered that WB has cut a molar--his first. It is on the upper right side. I'd like to think that was the source of the tantrums and moodiness, but I know I'd be kidding myself.

SK has been cracking me up lately. He is into knock-knock jokes lately. The only problem is that he doesn't really know many. So he makes up nonsense words or just says silly stuff, and it is actually funny because of the way he says it. He is learning more letters and numbers, as I have made a more concerted effort to spend time working on it. He loves doing craft projects, which I try to center around a letter, number or concept. We talked about the concept of "half" the other day while making baker's clay. Just as I thought he grasped it, he asks, "Mom, can I put the color drops in? And can I stir?" I have learned that if I am not directly in front of his face or touching him, he most likely is not internalizing what I am saying. But he is getting much better about taking instrucions and doing a sequence of tasks. He is such a big kid now.

One thing I'm enjoying is his singing ability. He can carry a pretty good tune, and likes to make up his own words to songs. It is a lot of fun to listen to.

There is a growing pile of clothes on their dresser that no longer fit. WB now weighs 22 pounds, but he is tall. SK weighs 40 pounds, and is likewise tall. It is so an adventure and a blessing to watch them grow.