Grandpa is Game

Boy, is grandpa game.  We have very specific rules about playing with swords or "shooter-guns", the theoretical weapon Monito barely knows about.  No pain is involved, no actual body-whacking is usually involved.  Then grandpa comes to visit and allows a full-on pirate play bonanza.  There was dressing up, there was Argh-ing, there were weapon malfunctioning as they were beaten into a pile of plastic, foam and coats-of-arms.

Grandpa spent most of the time on the floor, which gave Monito a clear sense of advantage.  He was merciless.

There was about 20 minutes of play before they retired to the couch to watch Peter Pan and admire the sword-fighting skills of Captain Hook and Pan. 

There was a little love expressed, too.  This boy LOVES his grandpa.  It has taken a full week to deprogram the fighting free-for-all skills.  We now have Homestead Rules and Grandpa Rules for duels.  We can't wait for the next altercation.

(Almost) Valentine's Day

The boy and I woke early. 

Read: Monito woke at 7 am, and performed his version of laying perfectly still. This entails lots of jiggling, sighing, standing up to adjust his pillow and flopping back down.  When he isn't bashing his huge hard noggin into me like a billy goat [damn all those farm books we read]* he is the snuggliest child ever. When we wake up next to each other he presses his forehead to mine, rubs our noses together and presses his hot little palm against my cheek while crooning through his spit-covered pacifier, "Mommy, are you awake yet?"  He really does try to allow us to keep sleeping, but I was downstairs by 7:14 nonetheless. 

Luckily, we had a box from my parents full of Valentine's Day gifts for the kids.  I let Monito open his up as I made tea.  My mother is an amazing gift shopper.  She totally hit the nail on the head with the puzzle she gave to my boy who is not into puzzles.  It is a huge puzzle - 2' x 3' - made of cardboard so thick that in 15 minutes of play the boy had been unable to bend or crack any of the pieces.  It has pieces inside other pieces, so I could put together the main puzzle and then he could find the places for the little pieces.  There are also game cards with questions about all the little pieces in riddle so he has to think about habitats, habits and functions in order to guess which animal/object the riddle is asking about.  Amazing!  His older sister, who is already doing 100+ piece puzzles by herself, was also amused.  Win/ win, Mom!  Of course, after a short stint as a puzzle it became fodder for the CRANE!  This is the fate of all things in our house.

*I just had a most enlightening moment checking punctuation.  I am only a geek of a medium order, but have good company.  Hi, Noona!  Hi, Jill!

New Years Eve

He played with his little buddies for a couple hours. He didn't mind boiling them at the end of it all, and he kept pace with me eating the meal of lobster in garlic saffron cream sauce over linguine. He's my boy.

Supervision

The brief interlude of unsupervised children roaming the house is over.

In the beginning, they were potatoes and unable to do anything but poop and cry, and oh! how they worked to perfect their few skills.



Then came the crawling/walking time and gates were closed, rooms were shut off, stairs were guarded, and all small objects were put away.

Recently, we've had a little plateau of development during which we could mostly trust that the established patterns would be followed, there was a lot of ritualization in their daily play and I could do things like stay upstairs for a few minutes while the kids roamed the house because I knew that Monito would be downstairs making a mess with the glass gems and Pequita would be studiously working on her three favorite puzzles.

That is all over. The recent sleep disruptions, shifts in nursing, and massive growth have heralded another new stage and I now cannot trust them at all. They are developing a true ability for subterfuge and sneaky behavior. They like to be read stories about naughty kids, dolls spend most of the day in time outs, and I find the kids hunkered down in cozy secret spots they've carved out in the bottom of a cupboard, created out of a pile of previously clean, folded laundry or covered a corner up with a blanket and made into a fort. I peek in expecting the usual excitement at my presence and get a hand waving in my face and a kid yelling, "No, Mom. Pivacy! Pivacy!" as they try to hide the real or perceived contraband from discovery.

The cookie jar has been breached enough times that it is on an upper shelf in the pantry.

Baby gates are back in regular use so we at least know what part of the house they are in. This morning I came downstairs to this sight.



Monito wanted to watch the Teletubbie DVD, and had found it and was reaching for the DVD player. He had already tried to use the dollhouse as a stool, and the sound of it tumbling over was what brought me downstairs. This is one reason we invested in a massive TV cabinet; I don't like to have a big black TV eye watching us all the time, but also to block it from young kids.

Moment later, I heard him running back and forth repeatedly from living room to kitchen. This always bodes poorly. I peeked in on him and found every single cloth rag in a pile on a mess he made. I cracked up, because he had spilled a tablespoon of milk.


I can invoke the drill sergeant, and I am teaching them to march behind me in line because it amuses me and they think it is fun. Next we'll start sounding off, but that will be another day.

Goldfinger

I was resting on the couch while the rest of the family was upstairs napping today. Goldfinger was on, and I was waking up for the Pussy Galore scenes and drowsing off for the rest of the movie. And then I was jolted awake by the sound of screeching metal on the TV. Other parents of young kids will attest to the fact that it is impossible to pass a backhoe, garbage truck, field of cows or any other number of items that are high on the toddler hit parade without needing to point and yell, "Look honey!". It is most embarrassing when you are out in public without your kids and are caught grinning madly and waving at the beer-bellied fellow in the cab of the front end loader for no apparent reason.



Well, the screech in the movie was the scene where Odd Job, Mr. Goldfinger's assistant, drives a car into a metal scrap yard and it is picked up by a massive claw, swung over acres of junked cars into a compactor and then crushed into a small metal cube the size of a dishwasher. It is then picked up by a giant magnet, swung back over the acre of cars, and placed gently into the back of a pickup and driven away by Odd Job.



I recognized the gold standard of toddler joy and recorded the movie. When Monito and Pequita woke up I fast forwarded to the scene and then showed them the clip. Monito clapped and screamed MORE! We watched the scene four times with no less excitement. I got good at stopping the DVR right before Odd Job shoves a body into the car's trunk - I was pretty sure that would be hard to explain. As 007 says, he had a 'pressing engagement'.

Paul Bunyon

15 minutes before Monito's two year well visit this was the scene I woke to as my phone beeped the alarm. Egads. I carries two heavy babes to the car and made the appointment.

Monito is off the charts for height at 38". His weight has gone up to the 99th percentile at 36.25 lbs. For comparison, his sister is 37" and 38 lbs. We are growing a giant.

Sadly, the pediatrician had no vaccination for the selective hearing that plagues Monito. Actually, it plagues me; he is just fine with it.

In other health news, Pequita's lead level was a respectable 3.4, which means we can relax a bit. Hoorah! She had a tantrum when I told her we wouldn't need to get her more blood draws at the hospital. Seems she will miss the chocolate pudding in the caf after the venipunctures. Oy.

Current Best Thing

He pores over his truck book constantly. He sleeps with it. It is his best thing.

Cheery

He may be still sick, but he is cheered by his new helmet and insisted on wearing it shopping.

Green in the Gills

Homestead Mama out of town, no help on hand, one boob almost out of commission due to some weird occurrence of blocked ducts that I am almost over - THAT is when the boy gets a stomach virus. He woke up at the usual 10 pm-ish for his nursing/snuggle time, then sat up and hurled all over me, the couch, and the carpet. Oy. We cleaned up, laid down some waterproofing on the bed and went to sleep. We were up again at 2, 4, and 6. He had such explosive diarrhea that I had to wash his hair in the tubby. He tolerated all the ministrations and tending very well, clearly out of sorts. All he wanted to do was nurse and snuggle. He was up by 7:30, but Thomas the Tank Engine came on and he watched it with no volume happily while Pequita and I dozed. I called H-Mama in the Adirondacks as soon as it was a decent hour begging her to hurry her work up and come home to spell me. I was pretty sure that more than one puking person at a time would have put me over the edge.

After a lunchtime of only ginger ale ["Spicy soda, Mommy! More spicy soda!"] Monito crashed for nap in the living room, and Pequita soon followed. We slept in the living room because every single stitch of bedding, all my towels, and all my chux pads were soaked with assorted bodily fluids. Also the carpet runner in the master bedroom, but who's counting? So I did laundry while the bairn slept for two hours.After nap they played with the new Playmobil camping set. It was fortuitous that I bought it on the off chance they'd sit still long enough to play with it; Monito had no energy and was happy with it, and Pequita just loves the tiny parts these days. Since she ate only a half of a banana today, I'm pretty sure she's about to fall prey to the bug as well. The house rule is don't encourage them to eat if they seem ambivalent.

By the time Homestead Mama arrived home, Monito was feeling better enough to join in on the mowing extravaganza.



Here's hoping we make it through the night uneventfully.

Spring Sunday

On Friday, we woke up to ice in the kids toys in the yard. Saturday and Sunday it was over eighty degrees. I love my town.

Softball practice has started for Homestead Mama, and the kids really enjoy the sideline activities of racing around, playing with Auntie Kiko, drinking from the water fountain, and tormenting Mommy by running into the parking lot.

We spend time snacking in the shade whenever it gets hot. Monito bringing me back his hat; he sports his skort and floral top like a real champ, eh? He picked it out himself.

There is a new fun thing to do this year. Both kids are fully able to scale chain link fence. Oh boy! I had to make a rule that they may not climb higher than they bar at about 5' off the ground. Boggling that we still haven't made a trip to the ER, isn't it? There was no crying after Monito's dismount. He just picked himself up and started climbing again.

Mastery

Playground activities that eluded the kids last year are now commonplace. The extra growth over the winter is so well showcased when they play now.

Pequita is really strong in her core, and muscles around the whole playground with ease. She clambered up the fake boulders that are made for older kids and crossed the chasm without batting an eyelash. Monito believes himself to be quite the big boy and regularly refuses our outstretched hands; he's bloodying his nose with some regularity despite my best efforts to keep him from actually injuring himself. While I am proud he is game to try anything his older sister does, I actively praise any evidence of caution.

In Like A Lion

Lots going on. I'm trying to breathe through it and be present. While I've been breathing, my parents came for a nice visit, we set up a fish tank, H-Mama and I went on a date while my parents babysat, my daughter told her first fib, we lost a fish, my kids have manifested the ability to count and recite large chunks of the alphabet, we've fully embraced brollies here and played in the mud a lot. Also, I found some great crafts to pass on to you all for toddlers which I'll do soon.



This afternoon Monito fell down the cement stairs at a friends house while I was trying to get Pequita to come along. He moved fast, and it is like herding cats to get her to do anything these days. Bloody nose, blood streaming from his mouth, scraped and cuts on his nose, lips and chin. In the pouring rain, long minutes from home. The little trooper only cried for about three minutes, nursed for two and then let me put him in the car and take him home. It is awful, and I feel awful about it. I could see it happening in slow motion, and any parent knows how long the milliseconds seem as you wait to hear how loud and long the screams are, indicating the magnitude of the injury. I don't think this one is terrible [I haven't been able to get a good look inside his mouth at his teeth yet. I'll do that tomorrow when it is less uncomfortable for him] but the crying was heartbreaking.

He's going strong, but sheesh. I held it together but am still upset about it. The bruising is going to be impressive.

Brolly/ Tushy

It isn't clear to me which is the star of this picture, Monito's new umbrella or the adorable tushy peeking out underneath it.

Daredevils

We had a nice visit from Auntie Kiko and her sister the other day. There was much merry playing. It is always more fun with someone other than Mommy.

Ms. Pequita is still manifesting the effects of watching the older girls in gymnastics. She suckered Auntie Kiko into letting her do this:

Its not like I stifle them, though, as you can imagine. We regularly make the old ladies out and about gasp in horror with our running, tossing, wrassling, and rough housing. [In my defense, we also impress them with how carefully we hold hands in the parking lot.] Monito is coming into his own physically. This never-ending growth spurt has had him eating massive amounts of food in order to feed his brain and body. For weeks he has been mostly staggering around, tripping over his own feet and barely managing to not brain himself on the coffee table. It is all coming together now, though, and he is achieving new heights of ability. Bedtime is now officially naked noodle couch jumping time. Please note that he isn't deformed, but that I blurred his ever so cute pink bits to keep the creeps from bookmarking my blog.

Monito's New Digs

He visits his new home several times a day in this new and exciting developmental stage. The time out chair is called the peace chair in this house, or the calm down chair, since that is what needs to happen. He can climb up all by himself.

Well

I removed the rubber sheets, chux pads and dropcloths from the beds and couches this morning. I think we have weathered the stomach bug storm with only Pequita as a casualty. Monito woke up last night crying in serious distress and I immediately assumed he was succumbing and scrambled to get a basin in front of him. Instead, after 3 wakings, much sobbing and grabbing at his right foot and we decided that he was having leg cramps because his jammies were too short. My 18 month old son has busted out of his 2T clothes, and is mostly in 3T. I guess selecting a donor who would help his gene pool be sturdy worked. After a little quick surgery, he went back to sleep for the night. *

*Heh heh - did you like my little joke? He went back to sleep for 84 minutes and woke up wanting to nurse. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sleep through the night. My son? Oh my, so amusing. He stopped crying, though, so it must have been the problem.

Pretend Soup

I gave the book Pretend Soup to Homestead Mama for Christmas. She is REALLY looking forward to doing concrete activities with our kids, and cooking is something she loves and wants to share with the babes. I also bought the kids a veg peeler to start learning with, and yesterday the boy and his Mama made carrot pennies. Monito needed help to peel the carrots, but very much wants to participate so Mama helped him hold the peeler and apply enough pressure to do the job. Then Mama sliced and they both steamed them. He was so proud, and the kids are still eating them by the handful. Below, I asked him to show me the carrots, and he opted to show me the ones he was chewing in stead of the ones in the bowl. That's my boy.

Party Like Its...um...2009

Party, party. Homestead Mama and I celebrated the end of 2008 sitting on the couch with wonky stomachs, a sick kid upstairs and DVR on the TV. Rock on! 1999 was indeed a very different kind of party. I remember quite a bit more champagne was involved.

Monito woke me up at around 5:30 am to nurse, and I couldn't fall back asleep due to stress. It was most sad, as I had been dreaming that I was a member of an erotic yoga troupe. No kidding - I haven't had that much night time excitement in quite a while. I usually spend an hour or two each night awake and reading because of anxiety, but oy. It is so annoying when the kids actually sleep in a bit and I'm awake, exhausted, and reading a book trying to distract myself long enough to fall asleep again. My brain has always manifested night stress badly and in an excitingly different way than daytime stress. I can be dozing peacefully, almost asleep, and suddenly I'll sense my mind searching for the stress hook. Once I remember whatever is the most stressful thing going on at the moment, my mind replays the worst case scenario over and over and over, just like when your Shawn Cassidy record has ended and you hear the same circular scritch-scritch-scritch as the needle hits the paper label until you turn off the record player. [I've just lost half the readers, who have never played an actual vinyl record and can't relate. And hey, Shawn was cool there for a while.] This thought process is always irrational, and morning brings calm and perspective, but who really cares when I'm clocking less than 6 hours of sleep a night? I have developed a couple replacement thoughts that override the process if I can insert them before my brain locks onto the anxiety. One is of floating down a river that is warm and pebbled with beautiful stones, another good one is harvesting gorgeous home grown veggies from a huge garden in the hot sun, with bees buzzing, birds chirping, etc. Anyway, these failed me last night and I was awake; the only escape is to read. Perhaps I'll try anti-anxiety meds after I'm done breastfeeding but for now I'm stuck with my own unquiet mind.

Monito fell back asleep after nursing. Pequita sat up alert at 7ish, and I took her downstairs so H-Mama and Monito could sleep in. The first thing she saw was the new picture cube I made for them - another thrift store find. I bought it to put letters in it, so they could spin them and spell 3-letter words, but they just aren't ready. So pictures of all the grandparents and some cousins are there to spin around and admire. She loved it. She helped me make a pot of coffee - they both love to measure the grounds out and pour the water in the machine - and then began the complicated ritual of setting up her horse farm. Many Playmobile horses and riders, some Schleich draft horses, and some food and water. All was well until her brother made his first peep upstairs. Then the horrifying prospect of having to share her horses caused a complete pack up. By the time I had zipped upstairs to fetch the boy and brought him back downstairs so H-Mama could continue sleeping in, this was all that was left. I can't say that the sharing process has gone perfectly, but they do fairly well except for their favorite toys. For Pequita, that is her horses.

Monito's affections lie in different areas. His deep and abiding love for Noo Noos of all shapes and sizes continues to be totally annoying and quite sweet. We scored a huge coup yesterday at the thrift store when we went to drop off the first of several batches of items purged from our crowded house; it would seem others have had a similar idea, as there, on a shelf, was a dust buster Noo Noo for only $2.99. Could no one else see the value? Apparently not, as we had no competition for it. It charges up beautifully and he can vacuum with it for about 25 minutes before it has to be plugged in again. He isn't allowed to use it when anyone is sleeping, so this morning my 18-month old sat patiently, lovingly, next to the new Noo Noo we call Buster for a full 15 minutes waiting for H-Mama to wake up. He melts me sometimes.

My Son, David Bowie

Grandma's arrival for the holidays has brought with it the advent of nail polish to the Homestead. Both kids have embraced the toxic smells, the smears, the utter joy of altering their appearance. We bought a bottle of blue, green and turquoise at the grocery store this afternoon. The house is certainly more glamorous. Monito is particularly partial to the pedicure.
He has been compensating for any doubts about his masculinity by wrassling with his sister at every opportunity. He sets traps, piling up pillows, and then pounces.

Christmas

Monito got his work bench. I resesearched all I could online, and am so extremely happy with the product. Solid wood, sturdy, lots of wooden bolts, nuts, and tools. While Pequita spent hours playing with her Playmobile horses and riders that I selected for her, my 18 month old son spent the day banging on his tools. Talk about gender specific behavior! We can be as neutral as we want, but nature seems to will out.

A quick glimpse of our tree, in its secure home atop a corner coffee table. A particular hit is the goldfish puppet in lieu of a star. Monito points at it and says 'blub blub'.

The stockings were sewn up, although some needle-felting embellishment will occur before next year. They were a huge hit with Pequita, who kept filling, emptying and refilling her stocking as she played with her toys and CHOCOLATE all through the day.

My photos are about to get better, because Homestead Mama did a very bad thing. Instead of the Buddha statue I asked for, she had this under the tree for me.

Nikon D 40.

I no longer want to get married to her. I am going to marry my new camera. I adore it. It is perfect.