as a result of spelling words that are not to be comprehended by young children, my 5 year old has now come to believe that once you grow up you no longer pronounce words, you spell them. he is a budding reader and is still spelling phonetically. all of this has made for some interesting conversations lately.
j: f. would you like some grapes with that sandwich?
f: f u
j: excuse me?
f: f u daddy
j: what did you say to me?
f: i said F U DADDY
j: are you trying to spell something!?
f: few. F U. few!
j: here's your grapes, now run along.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
bathtime, three boys in the tub, cleaning commences
f: oooowww, that water is too hot mommy!!
me: f., its not that hot. come over here and let me rinse you off.
f. (covering his private parts): i hope that is not going to hurt my tenders!!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
capturing time
my boys are growing up before my eyes it seems. its becoming more difficult to remember the days when they were tiny babies as they grow into these rough and tumble boys. i am trying to soak it all up and enjoy every minute of it.
f. is all about spelling and math these days. our days of spelling things in front of him as a way of secretly communicating are over. as a byproduct of that activity, he believes that when you grow up you no longer say words you spell them. the other day when i told him to climb up into his seat, he indignantly replied: "mommy, you can just say U P, i am old enough now to know what that means!" in the last month he has started to sleep in the master bedroom with j. and i. the first night it was sort of nice to have a little one to snuggle with again. by the second night i told him if he wanted to sleep in our room, it would have to be on the floor. slowly, toys began to migrate into our room. one day last week he referred to the master bedroom as mommy, daddy and f.'s room. so this weekend when i cleaned the bedroom, all of his things found their way back to his room. saturday night he actually slept in his own room again and i felt like i was sleeping in a hotel. last night he started out in his own room, but at some ungodly hour this morning i felt a familiar knee in the kidney. i was too exhausted to take him back to his room, but did send him to the floor. i know it wont be long before he gets embarrassed when i kiss him goodbye at the bus stop in the mornings and he will roll his eyes if i show up for class parties, so for now i am enjoying waking up and seeing him asleep on the floor.
m. continues to be a chatterbox. he narrates his day and occasionally his nights. he has developed this way of tricking us into getting what he wants. he will say something incomprehensible, to which we reply, what did you say? then he will say it again, clear as a bell, so then we repeat it, happy to have figured out what he was trying to say. then he says YES, as if we suggested it in the first place. it goes something like this.
m.: mommy, gobblygook
me: what did you say?
m.: cookie
me: cookie?
m. YES! thanks for offering!
k. is making strides in the language department. he is still getting services every week. i think when he grows up he will be one of those people that uses an inordinate amount of hand gestures to communicate. my favorite one is when he wants you to sit with him. he will call your name then pat the chair next to him. k. is adding words to his vocabulary little by little, but still really just says the first syllable of most words. so ma is mama, da is dad, ki is kiss, ma is also max, mi is milk, etc.
either m or k, no one will fess up, put a lincoln log in the gas stove that heats the playroom a few weeks ago. we didnt notice it in there before we turned the stove on and saw a freakishly high vibrant flame. upon further investigation we noticed the tell tale shape of a flaming orange lincoln log. because it would require dismantling the whole stove, j. said, lets just leave it in there, it will burn off eventually. next year we will consider heating the whole house with lincoln logs, because that little nub of a log has been in there for at least 8 hours and is still going strong!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
j.s mom had some bad news this month. the cancer has returned and is at this point inoperable. she has chosen to forgo further chemo. given that the cancer was already stage 4 when initially discovered, the prognosis is grim. we have invited them to visit for mother's day weekend, i hope it will be a nice visit for everyone.
f. is all about spelling and math these days. our days of spelling things in front of him as a way of secretly communicating are over. as a byproduct of that activity, he believes that when you grow up you no longer say words you spell them. the other day when i told him to climb up into his seat, he indignantly replied: "mommy, you can just say U P, i am old enough now to know what that means!" in the last month he has started to sleep in the master bedroom with j. and i. the first night it was sort of nice to have a little one to snuggle with again. by the second night i told him if he wanted to sleep in our room, it would have to be on the floor. slowly, toys began to migrate into our room. one day last week he referred to the master bedroom as mommy, daddy and f.'s room. so this weekend when i cleaned the bedroom, all of his things found their way back to his room. saturday night he actually slept in his own room again and i felt like i was sleeping in a hotel. last night he started out in his own room, but at some ungodly hour this morning i felt a familiar knee in the kidney. i was too exhausted to take him back to his room, but did send him to the floor. i know it wont be long before he gets embarrassed when i kiss him goodbye at the bus stop in the mornings and he will roll his eyes if i show up for class parties, so for now i am enjoying waking up and seeing him asleep on the floor.
m. continues to be a chatterbox. he narrates his day and occasionally his nights. he has developed this way of tricking us into getting what he wants. he will say something incomprehensible, to which we reply, what did you say? then he will say it again, clear as a bell, so then we repeat it, happy to have figured out what he was trying to say. then he says YES, as if we suggested it in the first place. it goes something like this.
m.: mommy, gobblygook
me: what did you say?
m.: cookie
me: cookie?
m. YES! thanks for offering!
k. is making strides in the language department. he is still getting services every week. i think when he grows up he will be one of those people that uses an inordinate amount of hand gestures to communicate. my favorite one is when he wants you to sit with him. he will call your name then pat the chair next to him. k. is adding words to his vocabulary little by little, but still really just says the first syllable of most words. so ma is mama, da is dad, ki is kiss, ma is also max, mi is milk, etc.
either m or k, no one will fess up, put a lincoln log in the gas stove that heats the playroom a few weeks ago. we didnt notice it in there before we turned the stove on and saw a freakishly high vibrant flame. upon further investigation we noticed the tell tale shape of a flaming orange lincoln log. because it would require dismantling the whole stove, j. said, lets just leave it in there, it will burn off eventually. next year we will consider heating the whole house with lincoln logs, because that little nub of a log has been in there for at least 8 hours and is still going strong!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
j.s mom had some bad news this month. the cancer has returned and is at this point inoperable. she has chosen to forgo further chemo. given that the cancer was already stage 4 when initially discovered, the prognosis is grim. we have invited them to visit for mother's day weekend, i hope it will be a nice visit for everyone.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
firehouse visit and other birthday celebrations
so yesterday i turned 29. again. and we got about 29 inches of rain. it was a absolutely gross day. but i had fun anyway.
my mom and i took m and k to the fire station in eastport with about 25 or so of their twin and triplet friends. it was a little crazy. m is sort of a madman and was running all over the place. k was a bit more reserved and was a bit timid getting in the firetruck. but once he was in there was no getting him out. thankfully by the time k had worked up the nerve to get in, most of the other kids were on to something else. the firemen were fantastic and really knew their audience. they kept the talk to things like: "look a big red truck" and "wanna get in?" we made our exit before the tour was actually over, but that was fine by me. my mom treated us to lunch which was a nice surprise.
last night, f. and i went out to dinner together. when i asked him if he was my date he was adamant for that not to be the case. we were just mom and son going to dinner. we had fun even if it wasnt a date. it was nice to have some alone time with all my lil boys on my special day. maybe sometime this century their father and i will get some of that alone time again too. i am almost certain that when the year comes that my children do not sing about me looking liking a monkey and smelling like one too, that it will make me a little sad. its great to be 29. again.
my mom and i took m and k to the fire station in eastport with about 25 or so of their twin and triplet friends. it was a little crazy. m is sort of a madman and was running all over the place. k was a bit more reserved and was a bit timid getting in the firetruck. but once he was in there was no getting him out. thankfully by the time k had worked up the nerve to get in, most of the other kids were on to something else. the firemen were fantastic and really knew their audience. they kept the talk to things like: "look a big red truck" and "wanna get in?" we made our exit before the tour was actually over, but that was fine by me. my mom treated us to lunch which was a nice surprise.
last night, f. and i went out to dinner together. when i asked him if he was my date he was adamant for that not to be the case. we were just mom and son going to dinner. we had fun even if it wasnt a date. it was nice to have some alone time with all my lil boys on my special day. maybe sometime this century their father and i will get some of that alone time again too. i am almost certain that when the year comes that my children do not sing about me looking liking a monkey and smelling like one too, that it will make me a little sad. its great to be 29. again.
Monday, April 6, 2009
glub glubs
fresh off the heels of having a plate of glub glubs (aka goldfish crackers) hurled my direction, i sat down to compose this post. since when are glub glubs offensive to two year olds?! titles like "what's the fine for throwing your child out the window" or "i give up" or "n., mom and failure, a retrospective" came to mind for this post. i know i have created terrible eaters and that i am entirely to blame.
my children have always been voracious breakfast eaters, fairly decent lunch eaters and downright atrocious dinner eaters. when we moved into this new house, i said, "new house, new rules!" i really did try. but somehow, life got in the way, and little by little we slid into our old habits of making 3 separate meals for dinner, one for grown ups, one for the school aged set, and one for the toddlers. sadly, short order cook skills are topping my resume these days.
when f. was a baby i was a good mama and made all of his baby food myself. i turned my nose up at jarred baby food. i spent one day every couple of weeks preparing food for the days to come, froze it in ice cube trays and thawed it as needed. he chowed down on mango, avocado, lentil soup and the like. now his repertoire consists of cheese sandwiches, lunch.ables and peanut butter on rit.z crackers. i justify it by telling myself at least they are whole wheat rit.z. when the twins came along i was in too much of a haze to consider making all of my own baby food. although i would still mash my own bananas, mangos and avocado. somewhere with all three of my children, the switch from baby food to people food has gone seriously wrong.
the thing is, i love to cook! i enjoy roasting veggies or marinating a protein or making up my own recipes. however, when a thoughtfully prepared meal is hurled back at you at full force by a two year old, it starts to lose its appeal. so the blue box, longtime fav of poor college students and toddlers alike, started to creep its way back into our weekly routine. as depression also creeped its way back into my life late this winter, there were days when toasted waffles handed over the baby gate sufficed for dinner. nary a complaint, i might add, from the shorter set.
now that i am living better through chemistry i am thinking i might be ready to tackle the whole eating debacle again. otherwise i am going to be drowing in a sea of glub glubs being tossed my way.
my children have always been voracious breakfast eaters, fairly decent lunch eaters and downright atrocious dinner eaters. when we moved into this new house, i said, "new house, new rules!" i really did try. but somehow, life got in the way, and little by little we slid into our old habits of making 3 separate meals for dinner, one for grown ups, one for the school aged set, and one for the toddlers. sadly, short order cook skills are topping my resume these days.
when f. was a baby i was a good mama and made all of his baby food myself. i turned my nose up at jarred baby food. i spent one day every couple of weeks preparing food for the days to come, froze it in ice cube trays and thawed it as needed. he chowed down on mango, avocado, lentil soup and the like. now his repertoire consists of cheese sandwiches, lunch.ables and peanut butter on rit.z crackers. i justify it by telling myself at least they are whole wheat rit.z. when the twins came along i was in too much of a haze to consider making all of my own baby food. although i would still mash my own bananas, mangos and avocado. somewhere with all three of my children, the switch from baby food to people food has gone seriously wrong.
the thing is, i love to cook! i enjoy roasting veggies or marinating a protein or making up my own recipes. however, when a thoughtfully prepared meal is hurled back at you at full force by a two year old, it starts to lose its appeal. so the blue box, longtime fav of poor college students and toddlers alike, started to creep its way back into our weekly routine. as depression also creeped its way back into my life late this winter, there were days when toasted waffles handed over the baby gate sufficed for dinner. nary a complaint, i might add, from the shorter set.
now that i am living better through chemistry i am thinking i might be ready to tackle the whole eating debacle again. otherwise i am going to be drowing in a sea of glub glubs being tossed my way.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
bloggity blog
"i am so going to be blogging about that!"
"i just posted about that exact thing!"
"did you read my blog?"
all things i have not been saying lately. i am still here. just havent had much to post about.
"i just posted about that exact thing!"
"did you read my blog?"
all things i have not been saying lately. i am still here. just havent had much to post about.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
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Monday, March 9, 2009
and then i automatically cried
the decision to have children was an easy one for me, it was the actualization of that decision that brought my baggage to the surface. infertility was a difficult course for me. it brought to the surface many things that i didnt realize were hiding out in there. not just physical health, but emotional health as well. when i really think back about my life, it was probably always there, sometimes just more buried than others. depression has weaved its way in and out of my life always creeping up at the most inopportune times. you are a newlywed and just landed a new job in the internet world, yay, now lets see if you can get out of bed and pretend like you didnt cry yourself to sleep last night. you just had two babies at once, yay, now lets spiral into a deep dark hole. you just moved into a new house, your dream house, stop crying and get over it. its never a good time for it. and by now, you would think i would know a better way to deal with it. medicine, check. therapy, check. medicine and therapy, check, check. yet, it always finds its way back.
there are legacies, traits, memories, and keepsakes that i would like to pass along to my children. depression is not one of them. i would prefer to box it up, stash it way in the back of the attic and leave it to be uncovered by the archeologists of the centuries to come.
i worry about f. he has a hard time keeping his emotions in check. at 5, this is somewhat to be expected. he is very hard on himself and wants to be sucessful at every new endeavor right out of the gate. he doesnt understand that 5 year olds dont know how to ride bikes the first time they get on them or read a book the first time they crack the spine. he thinks he should be able to do it all perfectly on the first attempt. try as we might to tell him things take practice and mistakes are a good and necessary part of learning, he still breaks down when things dont go his way. these are not the temper tantrums of a child who didnt get his way, these are the body wracking cries of a boy who didnt succeed and is disappointed in himself. the ugly cry where you cant catch your breath and explaining why you are crying would actually require being able to get a breath to form a sentence or even a word. j. and i have been working with him to find ways to get through these times, which f. has started to refer to as "and then i automatically cried." we are teaching him deep breathing techniques and thinking of a time when you were happy until you can calm down enough to talk about what is going on. all the while reminding him that no one scored a goal their first time out, or knew how to swim without lessons or practice. i wish i knew where this pressure came from, i would flip that switch in a heartbeat. isnt that our role as parents, to protect, to save them from as much heart ache as possible? to give them a better life than we ourselves have.
last week on a perfectly normal and happy day after all the children were safely tucked in bed i heard the tell tale footsteps of an untucked child. f. appeared in the door way, tears streaming down his face and wanted to know if i could think of a time when he was happy. he was trying to talk himself down, trying to use the techniques we taught him, but he couldnt come up with something, anything(?!) how about the time you conducted the band? or the time you learned to swim? or reading the book to your brothers earlier today? these seemed to do the trick and eased his tears. nothing was wrong, it was just the automatic crying. i scooped him up, gave him a big hug, told him i loved him, walked him back upstairs and snuggled with him extra long that night. after he was settled i came back down stairs. and then i automatically cried.
there are legacies, traits, memories, and keepsakes that i would like to pass along to my children. depression is not one of them. i would prefer to box it up, stash it way in the back of the attic and leave it to be uncovered by the archeologists of the centuries to come.
i worry about f. he has a hard time keeping his emotions in check. at 5, this is somewhat to be expected. he is very hard on himself and wants to be sucessful at every new endeavor right out of the gate. he doesnt understand that 5 year olds dont know how to ride bikes the first time they get on them or read a book the first time they crack the spine. he thinks he should be able to do it all perfectly on the first attempt. try as we might to tell him things take practice and mistakes are a good and necessary part of learning, he still breaks down when things dont go his way. these are not the temper tantrums of a child who didnt get his way, these are the body wracking cries of a boy who didnt succeed and is disappointed in himself. the ugly cry where you cant catch your breath and explaining why you are crying would actually require being able to get a breath to form a sentence or even a word. j. and i have been working with him to find ways to get through these times, which f. has started to refer to as "and then i automatically cried." we are teaching him deep breathing techniques and thinking of a time when you were happy until you can calm down enough to talk about what is going on. all the while reminding him that no one scored a goal their first time out, or knew how to swim without lessons or practice. i wish i knew where this pressure came from, i would flip that switch in a heartbeat. isnt that our role as parents, to protect, to save them from as much heart ache as possible? to give them a better life than we ourselves have.
last week on a perfectly normal and happy day after all the children were safely tucked in bed i heard the tell tale footsteps of an untucked child. f. appeared in the door way, tears streaming down his face and wanted to know if i could think of a time when he was happy. he was trying to talk himself down, trying to use the techniques we taught him, but he couldnt come up with something, anything(?!) how about the time you conducted the band? or the time you learned to swim? or reading the book to your brothers earlier today? these seemed to do the trick and eased his tears. nothing was wrong, it was just the automatic crying. i scooped him up, gave him a big hug, told him i loved him, walked him back upstairs and snuggled with him extra long that night. after he was settled i came back down stairs. and then i automatically cried.
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