I should just go ahead and put in the disclaimer that this will be a potty-training focused blog post. I know it's one of those annoying things parents do, assume everyone cares about their kids' toilet habits, so feel free to go ahead and stop reading now.
Anyway, if you're a regular reader, you know that Wilder did not get potty-trained until a couple months ago. He's going great now. But I guess it goes without saying that, after that experience, I did not have high hopes for Hunter. I assumed maybe it would help that he had an older brother who was showing him what to do, and it might help even more that I'm home full-time now. But beyond that, I had no aspirations. I just wanted him out of diapers before college.
So you can imagine my surprise at the events of the last couple of weeks. I think I mentioned that he had peed outside a couple times. And then, this afternoon, after bath time, I was putting a diaper on Hunter while Wilder continued playing in the tub. Hunter started emphatically shaking his head and yelling "pee pee!" at me. I asked him if he had to go. Emphatic nods. So I stripped the diaper off, we went and got his little potty together, brought it back to the room so I could keep an eye on Wilder and I plopped his booty down on it.
And. He. Went.
Now, I'm not saying he went No. 2. He peed. But he did concentrate really hard and fart about four times, so I know he gets the gist of what goes on there. Again, I realize, too much information. But what can I say? I'm damn proud of my boy, and though I realize that we're still a long way from a diaper-free existence, I think I'll ride out this high for awhile and visualize two boys using the potty by Summer 2010. It's possible, right? We'll see.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Nothing but photos
Just a couple of collages of photos -- first from the last couple days and second from the last few weeks -- that do nothing but make me smile. Enjoy.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
In which I relate a story that will embarrass them when they're teenagers
Thought I'd jump on here real quick while the boys are napping. The photos below are from the last few days; just a bunch of random pics of us enjoying the outdoors and one of Wilder in an increasingly rare moment of stillness.
I'm relearning how much fun it is to have a boy learning to speak English in the house. Hunter's vocabulary has really taken off in the last week or so and it's changed his outlook on life, to say the least. He seems to be in a constant state of amusement now that he understands more of what's coming out of everyone's mouth and learning his own little set of words. Of note: puppy, ball, outside, shoes, nana (this means cup), pee pee (more on this in a minute), poopy, moon ... there's more, I'm certain, but some of them escape me now. While he still doesn't say too many words, he understands a ton, and I can tell him to do something now and have him do it. He takes a box out of the pantry. "Put it back, please." And he'll do it. It's pretty fun watching him go through all this ... I'd forgotten just how cool it is.
He and Wilder seem to be deepening their relationship as cohorts and brothers-in-arms. They make each other laugh constantly. The other day Wilder was -- apparently -- doing the funniest thing in the world by dragging his feet through the wood chips everytime he swung backward at the park. Hunter just giggled and giggled, and then Wilder caught on and so kept it up. More giggling, more goading, me wondering what the hell was so funny about it all but laughing hard with them because they were laughing so hard. Good times.
This is a story a story they'll no doubt exact revenge on me for when they're 16 and 18 years old, but so be it. Last night in the tub, Hunter started sticking his tongue out at me and giggling. So I did the same. Then I started counting to three and yelling "TONGUE!!!" and sticking my tongue out. Pretty soon the boys caught on and we were all sticking our tongues out. Then Wilder leaned over and touched his tongue to Hunter's. Mutual freakout occured as Wilder started scrubbing his tongue with the washcloth and Hunter kicked his feet, screamed and shook his head violently. Then they proceeded to do it over and over, each time having their "ooooh gross!" reactions for another five minutes or so before I announced that it was probably good to stop as tongueing your brother in the tub as looked upon by society as fairly inappropriate. Still, while it lasted, we all had a good time cracking up.
On to pee pee. As you all are well aware, I had a hard time training Wilder to use the potty. He's now fully potty-trained and even staying dry through most nights and naps. Very, very proud of him as once he got it, he just got it and is doing fantastically. So it's of no small amount of import that Hunter is learning even the beginning steps of pottying somewhere other than his diaper. A couple of times, upon getting out of the pool, I've let Hunter stand naked next to his brother while Wilder pees in the grass, and lo and behold Hunter will pee too. The way we all cheer and freak out, you'd think world peace had just been attained. This morning, I'd pulled H out of his crib and had him on the changing table, putting a diaper on. He violently shook his head and hollered "PEE PEE!" at me. "Outside?" I asked. Emphatic nodding. So we took him outside and ... whadaya know? The kid peed in the grass, then climbed back up the steps and trounced into the house.
Woot. :-)
All right, I need to get some stuff done before the natives wake back up. Enjoy the photos.
I'm relearning how much fun it is to have a boy learning to speak English in the house. Hunter's vocabulary has really taken off in the last week or so and it's changed his outlook on life, to say the least. He seems to be in a constant state of amusement now that he understands more of what's coming out of everyone's mouth and learning his own little set of words. Of note: puppy, ball, outside, shoes, nana (this means cup), pee pee (more on this in a minute), poopy, moon ... there's more, I'm certain, but some of them escape me now. While he still doesn't say too many words, he understands a ton, and I can tell him to do something now and have him do it. He takes a box out of the pantry. "Put it back, please." And he'll do it. It's pretty fun watching him go through all this ... I'd forgotten just how cool it is.
He and Wilder seem to be deepening their relationship as cohorts and brothers-in-arms. They make each other laugh constantly. The other day Wilder was -- apparently -- doing the funniest thing in the world by dragging his feet through the wood chips everytime he swung backward at the park. Hunter just giggled and giggled, and then Wilder caught on and so kept it up. More giggling, more goading, me wondering what the hell was so funny about it all but laughing hard with them because they were laughing so hard. Good times.
This is a story a story they'll no doubt exact revenge on me for when they're 16 and 18 years old, but so be it. Last night in the tub, Hunter started sticking his tongue out at me and giggling. So I did the same. Then I started counting to three and yelling "TONGUE!!!" and sticking my tongue out. Pretty soon the boys caught on and we were all sticking our tongues out. Then Wilder leaned over and touched his tongue to Hunter's. Mutual freakout occured as Wilder started scrubbing his tongue with the washcloth and Hunter kicked his feet, screamed and shook his head violently. Then they proceeded to do it over and over, each time having their "ooooh gross!" reactions for another five minutes or so before I announced that it was probably good to stop as tongueing your brother in the tub as looked upon by society as fairly inappropriate. Still, while it lasted, we all had a good time cracking up.
On to pee pee. As you all are well aware, I had a hard time training Wilder to use the potty. He's now fully potty-trained and even staying dry through most nights and naps. Very, very proud of him as once he got it, he just got it and is doing fantastically. So it's of no small amount of import that Hunter is learning even the beginning steps of pottying somewhere other than his diaper. A couple of times, upon getting out of the pool, I've let Hunter stand naked next to his brother while Wilder pees in the grass, and lo and behold Hunter will pee too. The way we all cheer and freak out, you'd think world peace had just been attained. This morning, I'd pulled H out of his crib and had him on the changing table, putting a diaper on. He violently shook his head and hollered "PEE PEE!" at me. "Outside?" I asked. Emphatic nodding. So we took him outside and ... whadaya know? The kid peed in the grass, then climbed back up the steps and trounced into the house.
Woot. :-)
All right, I need to get some stuff done before the natives wake back up. Enjoy the photos.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Starting the day off right
Last night, we spent the night at one of our favorite Dallas haunts, the Belmont Hotel. They were having a Fourth of July special on rooms, and the price included admission to a pool party, blues band and a great view of the fireworks around the city.
Anyway, all that only goes toward explaining that we spent the night in a strange place. We had two connecting rooms, and Wilder had one big bed to himself, and Hunter slept in a portable crib next to the bed in Jerry and I's room. We were lucky that, for the most part, he slept through the night. But when he awoke this morning, he was clearly a little upset about the strange surroundings, crying out, and so we pulled him into bed between us.
He laid there for a moment, getting his bearings, and then rolled over and climbed up on top of Jerry's chest, sleeping stomach-down on his Papa, both arms wrapped around Jerry as far as he could reach. My first thought was to smile and simply appreciate how much my boys love their Papa. My second, of course, was a little twinge of jealousy that he had not snuggled up to me. I can't help it, just a little — both boys have gone through their "only Papa will do" stages, though they feel that way about me sometimes, too. Anyway, since I was feeling a little envy, I closed my eyes and remembered all the times during Hunter's first eight months of life — when I was nursing — and we slept snuggled next to each other during most nights. I'd wake up almost every morning to his smell and his breath on my cheek or arm or chest. He'd snuggle up close as he could possibly get.
As I was remembering this, I suddenly felt a small hand patting my arm. I opened my eyes and there was Hunter, looking at me with a wistful grin, as if he was remembering the exact same thing, and wanted to assure me I was still part of his early-morning world of love. He then rolled off Jerry and snuggled up to me.
For the next 30 minutes or so, he continued to go back and forth between us. At some point it became more of a wrestling session than a snugglefest, so we turned on the lights and began stirring around. Peeked in on Wilder and he was sitting up in bed, sleepy-eyed. He looked at me, said: "Mama, I took a LONG nap in this new big bed," and rolled out of it and into our room.
This is how we started July 5th. It was pretty great.
Hope everyone had a great Independence Day. We did. I posted some pictures here.
Anyway, all that only goes toward explaining that we spent the night in a strange place. We had two connecting rooms, and Wilder had one big bed to himself, and Hunter slept in a portable crib next to the bed in Jerry and I's room. We were lucky that, for the most part, he slept through the night. But when he awoke this morning, he was clearly a little upset about the strange surroundings, crying out, and so we pulled him into bed between us.
He laid there for a moment, getting his bearings, and then rolled over and climbed up on top of Jerry's chest, sleeping stomach-down on his Papa, both arms wrapped around Jerry as far as he could reach. My first thought was to smile and simply appreciate how much my boys love their Papa. My second, of course, was a little twinge of jealousy that he had not snuggled up to me. I can't help it, just a little — both boys have gone through their "only Papa will do" stages, though they feel that way about me sometimes, too. Anyway, since I was feeling a little envy, I closed my eyes and remembered all the times during Hunter's first eight months of life — when I was nursing — and we slept snuggled next to each other during most nights. I'd wake up almost every morning to his smell and his breath on my cheek or arm or chest. He'd snuggle up close as he could possibly get.
As I was remembering this, I suddenly felt a small hand patting my arm. I opened my eyes and there was Hunter, looking at me with a wistful grin, as if he was remembering the exact same thing, and wanted to assure me I was still part of his early-morning world of love. He then rolled off Jerry and snuggled up to me.
For the next 30 minutes or so, he continued to go back and forth between us. At some point it became more of a wrestling session than a snugglefest, so we turned on the lights and began stirring around. Peeked in on Wilder and he was sitting up in bed, sleepy-eyed. He looked at me, said: "Mama, I took a LONG nap in this new big bed," and rolled out of it and into our room.
This is how we started July 5th. It was pretty great.
Hope everyone had a great Independence Day. We did. I posted some pictures here.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wilderisms of the week
So Wilder has reached that age where he says pretty funny stuff all the time. Or at least I think so. This week:
Me (to Wilder): Hey! I am not your personal napkin!
Wilder: Oh. Is your SHIRT my personal napkin then?
And just this morning after going No. 2 in the potty:
Me: Good job. That's a good poop Wilder!
Wilder: Yep. Look, Mama, it looks like an ALIEN.
There was another time he insisted I come look at his poop because it looked like the No. 7. And it did.
Hunter is also getting funny with words. He loves to say "En Guarde!" when he and Wilder are playing with their foam swords. And I swear he walks around the house saying "oh shit oh shit oh shit" sometimes. I don't think I say that a lot, but I guess you never know. There are days when profanity for me is like blinking and breathing, I'm ashamed to admit (not really, but I should be).
Me (to Wilder): Hey! I am not your personal napkin!
Wilder: Oh. Is your SHIRT my personal napkin then?
And just this morning after going No. 2 in the potty:
Me: Good job. That's a good poop Wilder!
Wilder: Yep. Look, Mama, it looks like an ALIEN.
There was another time he insisted I come look at his poop because it looked like the No. 7. And it did.
Hunter is also getting funny with words. He loves to say "En Guarde!" when he and Wilder are playing with their foam swords. And I swear he walks around the house saying "oh shit oh shit oh shit" sometimes. I don't think I say that a lot, but I guess you never know. There are days when profanity for me is like blinking and breathing, I'm ashamed to admit (not really, but I should be).
I am pathetic and old
So last weekend, Jerry and the boys and I had a party to go to. It was the birthday of my friend and former co-worker Can (pronounced John, he's Turkish), and he was turning 34. One of my other former co-workers, Marlena, was helping to organize the party, and she's 26. And her nickname is "Shots." So, yeah, there was going to be some alcohol at this party.
Unfortunately, it was also a pool party. This was great because it's been hotter than hell here and because it meant the boys would really enjoy themselves. It also meant that my inner-uber-competitive formerly athletic self would come out. I am a normally pretty competitive person. But throw in liquor of any kind and a body of water, and I become some ancient Roman leader or something ... I want to CONQUER.
So, at some point, some bastardized version of water volleyball got started. (There was also a diving-board theatrics contest in which I took part, and I'm told there's video, and I'm frightened). But it was during the volleyball that things were getting pretty heated. It was Shots and me against three or so guys, and we girls were determined to win.
You see where this is going. At some point, I rose up in the air to spike a beach ball into someone's face (a futile gesture if ever there was one), and came down crooked with my weight on my left leg. And ooh ahh ouch holy *many many swear words under my breath* later, I was clutching my knee and grimacing and trying to pretend that I wasn't old and out of shape and in pain.
So yeah. That's the second knee I had operated on, had my ACL replaced back in 2003. (The other was in 2002 ... nothing like having the anaesthetician recognize you and welcome you back to the OR.) I've probably blown it again. I'm hoping it's a partial tear and I can just rehab it back to some semblance of useability. There's no way I can have surgery again -- maybe not ever but especially not right now. I am able to walk on it but I'm having a little trouble going up stairs and putting much weight on it or bending it too severely.
Anyway. Crap. At this rate, I should be in my walker by 2020 or something.
Unfortunately, it was also a pool party. This was great because it's been hotter than hell here and because it meant the boys would really enjoy themselves. It also meant that my inner-uber-competitive formerly athletic self would come out. I am a normally pretty competitive person. But throw in liquor of any kind and a body of water, and I become some ancient Roman leader or something ... I want to CONQUER.
So, at some point, some bastardized version of water volleyball got started. (There was also a diving-board theatrics contest in which I took part, and I'm told there's video, and I'm frightened). But it was during the volleyball that things were getting pretty heated. It was Shots and me against three or so guys, and we girls were determined to win.
You see where this is going. At some point, I rose up in the air to spike a beach ball into someone's face (a futile gesture if ever there was one), and came down crooked with my weight on my left leg. And ooh ahh ouch holy *many many swear words under my breath* later, I was clutching my knee and grimacing and trying to pretend that I wasn't old and out of shape and in pain.
So yeah. That's the second knee I had operated on, had my ACL replaced back in 2003. (The other was in 2002 ... nothing like having the anaesthetician recognize you and welcome you back to the OR.) I've probably blown it again. I'm hoping it's a partial tear and I can just rehab it back to some semblance of useability. There's no way I can have surgery again -- maybe not ever but especially not right now. I am able to walk on it but I'm having a little trouble going up stairs and putting much weight on it or bending it too severely.
Anyway. Crap. At this rate, I should be in my walker by 2020 or something.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
OK, I admit it: I'm overwhelmed
I'm sure a few of you are saying "duh" at that title line.
Where to start. I quit my job in late January because I was feeling overwhelmed by work and home. I wasn't feeling like a good mom, a good wife, a good employee/worker. Seemed like I was sucking wind at everything, and I was tired of it. I thought by becoming a stay-at-home mom, I'd be able to excel at at least one thing, that being the "mom" part. Boy was I wrong.
I suppose it's not all my fault. I do have a tendency to be extremely hard on myself. I've been missing my mom a lot lately because she used to always remind me of that, and she was always there to tell me to lighten up. If she could talk to me right now, I'm sure she'd be telling me I'm doing the best I know how and to stop freaking out about not being the "perfect" mama. I hear you, Ma. I really do.
I guess I just expected to rock this mom thing. But I've been incredibly humbled by it. I'm not patient. I can't let go of my control-freak tendencies. I yell too loud and react too quickly and generally feel like I'm scarring my boys for life some days. I do still have plenty of days when I feel like I'm a pretty damn good mom. Some days I just don't, though, and that hurts a lot. I want to raise them to be really exceptional, kind, well-adjusted young men. I don't see any reason to aim for less.
Anyway, long story short, I've set some more boundaries for myself and set out to do what I do well - research - to help the situation. Boundaries, for example: I'm getting the hell off Facebook until I feel I have the situation more under control. I've a FB addict, I admit. I mean, it could be worse, right? I could be popping valiums for comfort and instead I'm connecting with other human beings I actually like on a social networking site. But it's become an all-too-frequent outlet when I have five minutes. One that does nothing for me or the house or the boys. There are other rules I'm setting, but this is an example of one, and one I hope will give me back more time to blog, because I enjoy this and get a helluva lot more out of it than trying to be clever on Facebook in three sentences or less.
I've also ordered three books, which arrived today. One on parenting, which I've already started and can tell is going to be HUGELY helpful. The other two are on raising boys, specifically, and how to do this in such a way that you don't screw them up.
My whole life I've said I'm more like a guy than a girl. And that's still partially true. I have a lot of what people think of as typically male characteristics. For instance, I'm pretty good at shooting pool and taking the occasional shot of whiskey without throwing a facially contorted hissy fit and I can toss a football farther than a lot of guys I know and I enjoy throwing stuff away whenever I get the chance (my father tells me this makes me a pretty good wife). Ha. But it turns out that when it comes right down to it, I'm not a guy in the way that matters most right now: I want to understand how my boys' brains work and parent accordingly. Again, fine, kind and exceptional young and adult men ... that's the goal. So these other two books, I'm really hoping they'll help in that regard.
I'm trying to crack jokes and the truth is I'm sitting here with tears running down my face in rivers. I don't like to expose myself emotionally, but I have really felt like I'm failing my kids lately. And I can't have that. But I also have to learn to forgive myself for it. Parenting is not a skill you're born with, and I don't have a whole lot of role models near me. I'm not good at reaching out, and the one person with whom I would normally share all this and ask advice from ... well, she's just gone. And I didn't think I could miss her more, but I do. And that compounds it all.
Dammit.
Well, anyway, drying up my tears now and moving forward. Armed with knowledge and new resolve. And humility. If any of you mamas and papas have advice or encouragement or wanna give me a good kick in the ass, please do. I'm sure I could use any and all of it.
And Wilder and Hunter, I haven't done too bad by you two. But I know I can do better. And I will, baby boys. Nothing could inspire me more than your two beautiful faces and incredible spirits.
Where to start. I quit my job in late January because I was feeling overwhelmed by work and home. I wasn't feeling like a good mom, a good wife, a good employee/worker. Seemed like I was sucking wind at everything, and I was tired of it. I thought by becoming a stay-at-home mom, I'd be able to excel at at least one thing, that being the "mom" part. Boy was I wrong.
I suppose it's not all my fault. I do have a tendency to be extremely hard on myself. I've been missing my mom a lot lately because she used to always remind me of that, and she was always there to tell me to lighten up. If she could talk to me right now, I'm sure she'd be telling me I'm doing the best I know how and to stop freaking out about not being the "perfect" mama. I hear you, Ma. I really do.
I guess I just expected to rock this mom thing. But I've been incredibly humbled by it. I'm not patient. I can't let go of my control-freak tendencies. I yell too loud and react too quickly and generally feel like I'm scarring my boys for life some days. I do still have plenty of days when I feel like I'm a pretty damn good mom. Some days I just don't, though, and that hurts a lot. I want to raise them to be really exceptional, kind, well-adjusted young men. I don't see any reason to aim for less.
Anyway, long story short, I've set some more boundaries for myself and set out to do what I do well - research - to help the situation. Boundaries, for example: I'm getting the hell off Facebook until I feel I have the situation more under control. I've a FB addict, I admit. I mean, it could be worse, right? I could be popping valiums for comfort and instead I'm connecting with other human beings I actually like on a social networking site. But it's become an all-too-frequent outlet when I have five minutes. One that does nothing for me or the house or the boys. There are other rules I'm setting, but this is an example of one, and one I hope will give me back more time to blog, because I enjoy this and get a helluva lot more out of it than trying to be clever on Facebook in three sentences or less.
I've also ordered three books, which arrived today. One on parenting, which I've already started and can tell is going to be HUGELY helpful. The other two are on raising boys, specifically, and how to do this in such a way that you don't screw them up.
My whole life I've said I'm more like a guy than a girl. And that's still partially true. I have a lot of what people think of as typically male characteristics. For instance, I'm pretty good at shooting pool and taking the occasional shot of whiskey without throwing a facially contorted hissy fit and I can toss a football farther than a lot of guys I know and I enjoy throwing stuff away whenever I get the chance (my father tells me this makes me a pretty good wife). Ha. But it turns out that when it comes right down to it, I'm not a guy in the way that matters most right now: I want to understand how my boys' brains work and parent accordingly. Again, fine, kind and exceptional young and adult men ... that's the goal. So these other two books, I'm really hoping they'll help in that regard.
I'm trying to crack jokes and the truth is I'm sitting here with tears running down my face in rivers. I don't like to expose myself emotionally, but I have really felt like I'm failing my kids lately. And I can't have that. But I also have to learn to forgive myself for it. Parenting is not a skill you're born with, and I don't have a whole lot of role models near me. I'm not good at reaching out, and the one person with whom I would normally share all this and ask advice from ... well, she's just gone. And I didn't think I could miss her more, but I do. And that compounds it all.
Dammit.
Well, anyway, drying up my tears now and moving forward. Armed with knowledge and new resolve. And humility. If any of you mamas and papas have advice or encouragement or wanna give me a good kick in the ass, please do. I'm sure I could use any and all of it.
And Wilder and Hunter, I haven't done too bad by you two. But I know I can do better. And I will, baby boys. Nothing could inspire me more than your two beautiful faces and incredible spirits.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Chalk art
The boys and I got this Monday morning off on the right foot by heading outside first thing to blow bubbles, draw with sidewalk chalk and take a little walk up the block.
Up until today, whenever I've given Wilder chalk to play with, he just kind of scribbles. I've asked him to draw me faces, but he mostly ends up with something sort of Pollock meets Picasso: facial features all out of wack and the chalk just kind of smeared onto the sidewalk.
Until today. Below is what he drew me today. A face with eyes and mouth in the right place and arms and legs attached. There's hair there, too, and even a mustache. Some of the other scribbling can be attributed to Hunter, who's still in scribble mode. But, seeing as how this is Wilder's first real recognizable drawing, I wanted to get a picture and put it up here on the blog.
The other two pictures are from yesterday's visit -- the first of the year -- to the spraygrounds. Although Hunter went last year a couple times, this was his first "real" sprayground time, and he enjoyed it full throttle. Wilder did, too.
Happy Monday all.
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Up until today, whenever I've given Wilder chalk to play with, he just kind of scribbles. I've asked him to draw me faces, but he mostly ends up with something sort of Pollock meets Picasso: facial features all out of wack and the chalk just kind of smeared onto the sidewalk.
Until today. Below is what he drew me today. A face with eyes and mouth in the right place and arms and legs attached. There's hair there, too, and even a mustache. Some of the other scribbling can be attributed to Hunter, who's still in scribble mode. But, seeing as how this is Wilder's first real recognizable drawing, I wanted to get a picture and put it up here on the blog.
The other two pictures are from yesterday's visit -- the first of the year -- to the spraygrounds. Although Hunter went last year a couple times, this was his first "real" sprayground time, and he enjoyed it full throttle. Wilder did, too.
Happy Monday all.
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Saturday, May 30, 2009
Yes, I still blog. Harumph!
So I've been accused recently of not maintaining this blog anymore. Not accused really ... just my 10-year-old niece, Allie, mentioned to me that her parents were talking in front of her about how I didn't keep the blog up anymore. So, JAY AND DEBRA, this blog post is for you.
Actually, they're kind of right. Between Facebook and Twitter and having a preschooler and toddler and a husband who's constantly trying to show me and read me things from his favorite magazines (I don't kid ... he just walked up to me to show me a house in Mother Earth built from dirt bricks and I had to shoo him away), it's been really hard to get on here and blog. Despite the fact that I promised myself that if I quit my job I would write more. Turns out I meant less. Whoops.
But this morning, Wilder is at his friend Owen's house. Not his first sleepover, but the first where he was actually fully cognizant of the fact that he'd be somewhere other than his own little comfy bed with his parents 20 feet away all night long. A little background: Jerry had shoulder surgery a week and a half ago, and ... OK, I might have been freaking out a little bit about how I was going to handle those aforementioned small people and the one-armed love of my life. And I might have unloaded some of this freak-out on my friend Carmen, Owen's mom, to whom I've become pretty close over the last couple of years. She and I have kids the same age and, though we're not all that alike in some key ways, our differences seem to play well off each other. She's inspired me to be a better housekeeper and I've inspired her to, oh I dunno, probably blow off the occasional bathtime in favor of a cold drink and relaxing moment.
So, anyway, Carmen being the good friend she is, she offered to -- after Jer's surgery -- have Wilder for a sleepover. You see, Owen and Wilder are two peas in a pod. Wild, unfocused and high-spirited boys who often completely ignore the repeated entreaties of their mothers in favor of doing whatever the hell it is they'd rather be doing anyway. They're also both completely adorable and loveable, but just read that last sentence again, and it might explain again why Carmen and I have become so close. We're like foot soldiers together in the war of raising 3-year-old boys who do not listen. I know this applies to practically every 3-year-old boy out there, but trust me that Wilder and Owen bring it to art-form status. If you don't believe me, come spend an afternoon with them. Carmen and I will be glad to help you get over your doubt by going out for coffee and pedicures while you yell, sweat and run your way to confirmation.
So, back to Wilder's sleepover. As of 5 yesterday afternoon, he's been at Owen's. And we've been here. With Hunter. Alone. We took the opportunity to pretend that we're parents of the blissful one child again and went out to dinner. We strapped Hunter into a high chair and ate and drank really strong margaritas and cast looks of pity at the couple near us with their two kids. It was great fun. And we've been enjoying Hunter, whose personality and desires are often overshadowed by his big brother.
You see, people often mistake Hunter for the calmer child. They'll ask me: Is he really always this mellow? (Which I think translates into "How high is his IQ?," because in public, around people he doesn't know very well, Hunter can be quite the mouth-breathing, blank-stared little guy.) And the answer is that he's not. He talks constantly and he LOVES a good game of peek-a-boo almost more than he can stand and you can't take Hunter outside without walking to the opposite side of the block with him (and he's glad to go without you and will have a downright come-apart if you try to turn him around before his little toes are perched on the last square of that sidewalk). He really and truly embraces life with near the level of vim and vigor that his big brother does. It's just that in the blur and noise level that that brother brings to the table, it often gets lost. At least for now.
Just this morning, Jerry and I both got up early to take advantage of our alone-with-Hunter time. I think we were both encouraged and inspired by last night, when we found just how much we enjoyed his company alone. He ran around the house unmolested by his big brother, choosing toys that were not ripped from his hand. Jumping around on the couch w/o being tackled. Cuddling with parents who were not being tugged and body-slammed by another small body. We both wanted more of that. And so did Hunter.
Anyway, I have to cut this short (I know, I know ... it's LONG, but I've been accused of not keeping it up, so I had to cram a lot into one post). But Jerry and Hunter have headed back outside and I can hear the fun being had without me. And that just will not do. So I'm signing off to spend time with my dear little Hunter. Honey, I wish we had more moments like this (not that I don't miss your brother terribly and can't wait to go pick him up), and I'll try to make sure we do. You are such a magical little boy. Don't think for one moment, EVER, that no one notices that.
Actually, they're kind of right. Between Facebook and Twitter and having a preschooler and toddler and a husband who's constantly trying to show me and read me things from his favorite magazines (I don't kid ... he just walked up to me to show me a house in Mother Earth built from dirt bricks and I had to shoo him away), it's been really hard to get on here and blog. Despite the fact that I promised myself that if I quit my job I would write more. Turns out I meant less. Whoops.
But this morning, Wilder is at his friend Owen's house. Not his first sleepover, but the first where he was actually fully cognizant of the fact that he'd be somewhere other than his own little comfy bed with his parents 20 feet away all night long. A little background: Jerry had shoulder surgery a week and a half ago, and ... OK, I might have been freaking out a little bit about how I was going to handle those aforementioned small people and the one-armed love of my life. And I might have unloaded some of this freak-out on my friend Carmen, Owen's mom, to whom I've become pretty close over the last couple of years. She and I have kids the same age and, though we're not all that alike in some key ways, our differences seem to play well off each other. She's inspired me to be a better housekeeper and I've inspired her to, oh I dunno, probably blow off the occasional bathtime in favor of a cold drink and relaxing moment.
So, anyway, Carmen being the good friend she is, she offered to -- after Jer's surgery -- have Wilder for a sleepover. You see, Owen and Wilder are two peas in a pod. Wild, unfocused and high-spirited boys who often completely ignore the repeated entreaties of their mothers in favor of doing whatever the hell it is they'd rather be doing anyway. They're also both completely adorable and loveable, but just read that last sentence again, and it might explain again why Carmen and I have become so close. We're like foot soldiers together in the war of raising 3-year-old boys who do not listen. I know this applies to practically every 3-year-old boy out there, but trust me that Wilder and Owen bring it to art-form status. If you don't believe me, come spend an afternoon with them. Carmen and I will be glad to help you get over your doubt by going out for coffee and pedicures while you yell, sweat and run your way to confirmation.
So, back to Wilder's sleepover. As of 5 yesterday afternoon, he's been at Owen's. And we've been here. With Hunter. Alone. We took the opportunity to pretend that we're parents of the blissful one child again and went out to dinner. We strapped Hunter into a high chair and ate and drank really strong margaritas and cast looks of pity at the couple near us with their two kids. It was great fun. And we've been enjoying Hunter, whose personality and desires are often overshadowed by his big brother.
You see, people often mistake Hunter for the calmer child. They'll ask me: Is he really always this mellow? (Which I think translates into "How high is his IQ?," because in public, around people he doesn't know very well, Hunter can be quite the mouth-breathing, blank-stared little guy.) And the answer is that he's not. He talks constantly and he LOVES a good game of peek-a-boo almost more than he can stand and you can't take Hunter outside without walking to the opposite side of the block with him (and he's glad to go without you and will have a downright come-apart if you try to turn him around before his little toes are perched on the last square of that sidewalk). He really and truly embraces life with near the level of vim and vigor that his big brother does. It's just that in the blur and noise level that that brother brings to the table, it often gets lost. At least for now.
Just this morning, Jerry and I both got up early to take advantage of our alone-with-Hunter time. I think we were both encouraged and inspired by last night, when we found just how much we enjoyed his company alone. He ran around the house unmolested by his big brother, choosing toys that were not ripped from his hand. Jumping around on the couch w/o being tackled. Cuddling with parents who were not being tugged and body-slammed by another small body. We both wanted more of that. And so did Hunter.
Anyway, I have to cut this short (I know, I know ... it's LONG, but I've been accused of not keeping it up, so I had to cram a lot into one post). But Jerry and Hunter have headed back outside and I can hear the fun being had without me. And that just will not do. So I'm signing off to spend time with my dear little Hunter. Honey, I wish we had more moments like this (not that I don't miss your brother terribly and can't wait to go pick him up), and I'll try to make sure we do. You are such a magical little boy. Don't think for one moment, EVER, that no one notices that.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Florida photos
I had intended to post photos of our trip here, but time has gotten away from me again, and since I've already posted them on Facebook, I figured I'd just link to them here and you could all see them there. So here they are.
The trip was amazing, and just what we all needed. It was great to see and spend time with family, see the shuttle launch and spend as much time on the beach and in the ocean as we could. The boys were both trepidacious about the water at first, but were splashing around like they'd been in it their whole lives by the time we left.
Jerry is having shoulder surgery tomorrow to replace a torn rotator cuff. It is supposed to be a pretty minor tear(though it's causing him plenty of pain), and the recovery should be OK. But he'll be in a sling for five weeks.
The boys are doing great. Hunter is starting to mimic everything his big brother does and it's entertaining as hell to watch this. Of course, they don't always get along, and this has resulted in one facial wound this week. I'll post pictures later.
I'd love to write more, but the boys just won't seem to let me lately. Logging off for now and will try to post more later.
The trip was amazing, and just what we all needed. It was great to see and spend time with family, see the shuttle launch and spend as much time on the beach and in the ocean as we could. The boys were both trepidacious about the water at first, but were splashing around like they'd been in it their whole lives by the time we left.
Jerry is having shoulder surgery tomorrow to replace a torn rotator cuff. It is supposed to be a pretty minor tear(though it's causing him plenty of pain), and the recovery should be OK. But he'll be in a sling for five weeks.
The boys are doing great. Hunter is starting to mimic everything his big brother does and it's entertaining as hell to watch this. Of course, they don't always get along, and this has resulted in one facial wound this week. I'll post pictures later.
I'd love to write more, but the boys just won't seem to let me lately. Logging off for now and will try to post more later.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
A day at the Mote
We've been in Florida since Saturday, in Cocoa Beach first and now in Bradenton Beach for the last few days. We had two days of solid sun pretty much, and today's forcast called for some rain, so we decided to do something in one of the nearby towns. There's a research aquarium near here called Mote Marine Laboratory.
It sounded pretty cool, and when we figured out that our Dallas Zoo membership would get us in for free (the two organizations are reciprocal partners), it was a done deal. So glad we went. It was a pretty amazing place, as evidenced by the fact that we spent more than four hours there. All kinds of marine life, holding tanks where you could touch things like sea cucumbers, sea urchins, saltwater hermit crabs, rays of all kinds, etc. Then a seabird rehabilitation center, and a separate building that housed sea turtles, manatees and dolphins. There's also an immersion cinema, where filmgoers use video consoles to help determine the outcome of the short films played there. We tried that but the boys were too young to last.
All in all, if you're ever near Longboat Key or Sarasota, Fla, with kids, I highly recommend this place. It was awesome. I'm bummed I won't get to take the boys back anytime soon. I have a few photos I'll post later, but we talked about the trip just as the sunset tonight with Wilder. Here's some video of that.
It sounded pretty cool, and when we figured out that our Dallas Zoo membership would get us in for free (the two organizations are reciprocal partners), it was a done deal. So glad we went. It was a pretty amazing place, as evidenced by the fact that we spent more than four hours there. All kinds of marine life, holding tanks where you could touch things like sea cucumbers, sea urchins, saltwater hermit crabs, rays of all kinds, etc. Then a seabird rehabilitation center, and a separate building that housed sea turtles, manatees and dolphins. There's also an immersion cinema, where filmgoers use video consoles to help determine the outcome of the short films played there. We tried that but the boys were too young to last.
All in all, if you're ever near Longboat Key or Sarasota, Fla, with kids, I highly recommend this place. It was awesome. I'm bummed I won't get to take the boys back anytime soon. I have a few photos I'll post later, but we talked about the trip just as the sunset tonight with Wilder. Here's some video of that.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Wilder movin' and groovin'
A little video of Wilder singing and dancing to Woody Guthrie's "Car, Car (Riding In My Car)," as performed by Donovan. Notice: HE NEVER STOPS MOVING. Ever.
Mama and the boys
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
A violation of the open-door policy
Just now, Jerry had taken Wilder into the family room for a little downtime before he goes to sleep. I took the opportunity to change into something I could lounge around the house in, and then to pee. I closed the door.
Suddenly, the door swung open. There stood Wilder, an impish grin on his face, with one arm behind his back.
"Mama! I have to show you something!"
"OK, what is it?"
He pulled his popscicle out from behind and proudly displayed it. As if the orange goo around his mouth hadn't already given it away.
"Good?" I asked.
"Uh huh!" Long pause. ... "Mama, what you doing with this DOOR CLOSED????"
"Well, Wilder, believe it or not sometimes I actually shut the door when I have to pee."
Stares at me. "OK then. Pee." Closes door. Runs.
Suddenly, the door swung open. There stood Wilder, an impish grin on his face, with one arm behind his back.
"Mama! I have to show you something!"
"OK, what is it?"
He pulled his popscicle out from behind and proudly displayed it. As if the orange goo around his mouth hadn't already given it away.
"Good?" I asked.
"Uh huh!" Long pause. ... "Mama, what you doing with this DOOR CLOSED????"
"Well, Wilder, believe it or not sometimes I actually shut the door when I have to pee."
Stares at me. "OK then. Pee." Closes door. Runs.
Haircut day
I took both the boys to have haircuts today. Wilder's poor mop needed rescuing from what I did to him a few weeks ago, and it had grown out enough to be fixed, and Hunter's hair was just starting to take over his cute face. I can't believe how much more like little boys they both look with the cuts. And, for his first cut ever, Hunter did great. He zoned out for most of it, but started grinning like a jack-o-lantern when she was near the end ... I think he was just so damn glad to have his hair out of his eyes and not tickling his ears anymore. Anyway, when we got home, I really wanted to get some photos taken of them. Not an easy task these days as they both have a very hard time sitting still, particularly Wilder. I swear if we could harness the energy of 3-year-old boys in this world we wouldn't need coal, oil, wind, solar or nuclear fuels. Phew. But I got a rare treat this morning, along those lines ... both boys decided that sitting in my lap in our big comfy chair while watching Sesame Street was OK, and I had a blissful 10 to 15 minutes of relative calm and good snuggling with these two cuties. Here are a few of my favorite shots from this afternoon's photo session:
Right after Hunter smacked Wilder in the head. Great facial expressions ... Wilder: "Mama! He hit me!!" and Hunter: "Uh oh!"
I was jumping all over the room trying to get them to sit relatively still and look at the camera at the same time. They were more concerned with sitting on each other's head, trying to fall off the couch, etc.
The money shot.
Brothers in giggles.
Wilder suddenly noticed the scraped knee Hunter got last night and hadn't even noticed himself. As Jerry says: "Kid don't feel pain." But W. was very concerned, like the great big brother he is.
Self portrait of my recent haircut as well. I think I get weirder looking the older I get.
Right after Hunter smacked Wilder in the head. Great facial expressions ... Wilder: "Mama! He hit me!!" and Hunter: "Uh oh!"
I was jumping all over the room trying to get them to sit relatively still and look at the camera at the same time. They were more concerned with sitting on each other's head, trying to fall off the couch, etc.
The money shot.
Brothers in giggles.
Wilder suddenly noticed the scraped knee Hunter got last night and hadn't even noticed himself. As Jerry says: "Kid don't feel pain." But W. was very concerned, like the great big brother he is.
Self portrait of my recent haircut as well. I think I get weirder looking the older I get.
Reason No. 2.396 to love Hunter
You know that full-body grin that Ray Charles did when he was happy? It was like, being blind, he never realized how other grown men didn't do that, and so he did it anyway, and was thereby able to show the world just how much joy it gave him? Yeah ... Hunter does that. It's so friggin' great.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Flash Wilder
There is absolutely nothing good about this photo composition-wise. But that blur you see on the left? Well, that's Wilder. Sticking his face in and out of before the lens in typical Wilder fashion -- i.e. as fast as he possibly can. Tired. So very tired.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
The Brothers Scott: Now on Twitter!
So I've found myself without a lot of time to blog again lately. I've taken on some more freelance projects because, well, apparently I'm a glutton for punishment, work and money. In the immortal words of Chicago frontman Peter Cetera (a reference I'm sure you never thought you'd see here ... surprise!): It's a hard habit to break.
So, anyway, The Brothers Scott is now on Twitter, which allows me to essentially make blog posts in 140 characters or less. It also forces me to be succinct, which — as an editor/writer — I really appreciate. It's a continual challenge, and I love it.
So, if you're interested, you can follow us on Twitter by clicking here.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Lesson learned
Here's a little parenting lesson I've learned the hard way: Never, EVER tell a 3-year-old that you're all going to the beach unless that trip is imminent. Like, leaving the next day or in the next few minutes imminent. Otherwise, you'll have to endure this conversation for weeks:
Kid: I want to go to the beach.
Mom: We are, but not for a few weeks.
Kid: Well, let's go then.
Mom: It's VERY far away.
Kid: But I want to go. Now.
And pretty much repeat ad infintum. I might have to find a beach in Dallas here soon.
Kid: I want to go to the beach.
Mom: We are, but not for a few weeks.
Kid: Well, let's go then.
Mom: It's VERY far away.
Kid: But I want to go. Now.
And pretty much repeat ad infintum. I might have to find a beach in Dallas here soon.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Hunter turns 1, and other blathering
I've neglected the blog as of late. No real reason, just busy and taking on extra freelance projects and such. Lots of other little tangential stuff going on: planning a trip to Florida, planning the neighborhood Easter party (Can you believe I got tagged as events planner? Why, WHY? can't I just say no to these requests? I don't know what children like ... I only know what my kids like and that's because I've forced my own tastes in entertainment on them ... i.e. we play poker and dance to awesome music and drink cocktails every night ... I kid.), trying to research pre-schools for Wilder next fall, doing the taxes, filing our lives away in nice little neat manila folders. Etcetera. I'm telling you, the excitement NEVER ends around here. It's jazz hands 24/7!
Actually, we did have a big day: Hunter turned 1, and we had a nice little party with dinner and cake and ice cream and a few friends. Very small, very mellow, very awesome. I'm posting some pics below. Little Hunter is talking more ("uh oh," "hi," "ball," and "AGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!," uttered whenever something goes even minutely in a direction other than the way he's intended. Yep, our little Baby Buddha has gotten decidedly un-Buddha like; he's more like Mohammad, The Early Years.) At least I've got Wilder under my belt, because now I can just kind of look at Hunter, give him my, "Yeah, let's see what having a come-apart gets you," look, and walk away. It's not that I'm not nurturing; it's just that I don't want to encourage his little fits. It'll either work or he'll end up in therapy in 30 years bemoaning his horrible mama.
So, without further ado or torture at the hands of my sarcastic prose, here's some photos. Love to all, k.
PS. Hoping to get more photos from the last few weeks up here soon.
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