Literal vs. Figurative

Moses loves to run. If he so much as hears the word, he gets in a tizzy about the prospect of running, and racing (or "waycing") is a common mode of bodily transportation around our house.

When we went to the park on a school day a couple weeks ago, Moses saw the kids from the nearby elementary running the mile around the park. That was all the motivation he needed. He said, "I run," and then took off from the playground to join their ranks. Milo and I followed close behind in the stroller. Moses ran his little legs off for 5 minutes and then stopped and walked with me and Milo. When another group of kids passed us a couple minutes later, he started running again--pumping his sweet little toddler arms. This time, he had some fans in the running elementary kids, and they cheered him on. He stopped a few minutes later after the kids out ran him and we walked back to the playground. That's how much he loves running.

I just need to remember that when I choose my verbs.

I had to go to the store for a few items yesterday morning so I told Moses that he had to get dressed. He grunted to let me know he wasn't going to make it easy so I said, "We just have to run to the store and we will come right back home." He was suddenly excited and didn't fight getting dressed. We went out to the car, but he said "run," took off towards the sidewalk, got in his runner's stance and said, "race." Oops. It was then I saw my error. I had to correct the misunderstanding and tell him that we weren't really running to the store but driving. He was not happy. I will have to choose my verbs more carefully from now on and consider the literal versus figurative ramifications.

How to blow a toddler's mind.

Show him pictures of himself as a baby and tell him it's him, not his baby brother, in the pictures.

Will. not. comprehend.

(We actually gave in and said, "Yes, it's baby Milo," because he wouldn't drop it and was getting very, very upset by the disconnection.)

Then, introduce him to a webcam.

Happy December!

I'm here, and we're all well!

I've learned that if I want my house to be clean and to have dinner on the table every night while minding two small children I can't stop moving throughout the day (or I won't want to get up again) so I'm trying my darnedest not to stop this month. I have a lot of catching up to do though because I was l-a-z-y during October and November.

Sigh.

I'll be back very soon with an update and pictures of my two-year-old!

Dave Jr. and Dave III

Dave and I've had trouble with names lately. We're constantly calling Moses "Milo" and Milo "Moses," and sometimes "Mises" and "Molo" sneak in for good measure. After all the recent name confusion we've had, I've realized George Foreman was onto something when he named all five of his sons "George."

I found this quote:

USATODAY.com: Why did you name all of your sons GEORGE?

George Foreman: In boxing, you have to save money and you have to prepare for memory loss. I wanted to make sure I didn't forget anybody's name.

I used to think it was a vanity thing but now I see it as a sanity thing. No ones feelings get hurt if the parents can't constantly trip up on the wrong name. So, from now on, please refer to Moses as Dave Jr. and Milo as Dave III, for our sake and theirs.

Intervention

Moses' latest bout of weirdness involves lotion drinking. Yes, lotion drinking. We have to be extra careful to keep lotion bottles out of his reach or else we'll find him snuggled up with a bottle, sipping the contents from the spout. Ew.

Toddler-ese

"My-mo" is how Moses pronounces Milo. It just warms my heart every time I hear it. He occasionally sing-songs it as a "Myyyyyy-mo," and it's the sweetest song in the world.

Like night and day

It seems Milo is falling into the easier-second-child stereotype I've frequently heard about, and I couldn't be more thrilled (and dumbfounded) by his mellowness. I wouldn't say Moses was a difficult baby--okay, maybe I would--but he never slept for longer than 20 minutes at a time, refused to sleep on his back, was very difficult to soothe, and didn't allow anyone but Dave and I to care for him. Of course, he's my little boy and I love him all the more for those long sleepless nights and difficult days, but I will say it's nice to have an easier baby this time around. I'm sure my very writing of this post will jinx Milo's easy-going disposition, but at least I'm documenting this beautiful time.

Milo's been a dreamy sleeper and eater and even soothes himself back to sleep with little effort. He's a sound sleeper too, sleeping through Moses' untimely lawn mowing episodes and the occasional toddler fit.

Moses is vacillating between being a helpful big brother and jealous sibling, which is understandable. One minute he'll offer his juice to Milo or show concern for his crying, and the next he'll throw a fit over Milo sitting in his bouncy seat or being held by Mommy. Overall, he's really done a great job accepting his new brother and the changes he's brought with him and been a tender, shining poster child for big brotherhood.

What boys' mothers dream at night

I don't know what it is about boys, but there is some inherent rough and ruggedness to their behavior at even the youngest of ages. Moses is definitely a fan of anything dangerous and gives me mini-heart attacks each day. His face is usually covered in an array of bumps, bruises, and, now, mosquito bites. I think all of this led to some feelings of guilt that have crept into my dreams.

Two nights ago I dreamt that a CPS worker came to inspect our house because Moses' bumps and bruises were brought to their attention and concerned them. She looked over the house and proceeded to wrap every inch of it in a bubble-wrap type substance and left.

I don't think our house is the problem so much as Moses' need to play with reckless abandon. Nevertheless, his battered appearance is influencing my dreams and making me feel worse.

-Lindsey

Seeking Solitude

Over the past several weeks, Moses has developed a peculiar new quirk: whenever he has a bowel movement, he'll hide behind a piece of furniture. It's entertaining to watch because he'll suddenly stop whatever he's doing and move behind a certain living room chair or the dining room table before making a series of grunts and other telltale sounds that clue us in to his intestinal goings-on. I'm not sure if this act is out of a sudden need for privacy or if it's more about limiting distractions so he can properly focus on the task at hand, but for now, it's just one more thing to add to my "how-to-embarrass-my-teenager" toolbox.

Also, I think the spectacle will be invaluable come potty training time. Hooray for predictability.

-Lindsey

Meet the Weathermen

Each member of this family has some bodily quirk that allows for rain prediction with uncanny accuracy.

Dave: An old football injury to his shoulder makes it ache when precipitation is imminent. This makes him sound much older than his 28 years.

Me: My epidural entry-point aches like some sort of bone bruise for days leading up to ominous weather. It's made me reconsider drugs for this second child but only for a second...

Moses: His hair kinks up into dreamy curls the day of a downpour. Maybe I should check for some cancellations at our local photographers? One girl's picture-day nightmare is my boy's opportunity for unworldly cuteness.

Bella (the dog): She freaks out and shakes uncontrollably for hours before it begins until it passes. She also won't leave our side, or she'll hide in the bathroom. I imagine her reciting the mantra, "think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts" in a doubtful, girly inner voice for the duration of a thunderstorm.

I didn't mention our cat, Ninja, but I'm sure if we could extract the prescient behavior from the psychotic we'd learn she's also got a talent for weather prediction. And, while not a member of the family per se, my van starts running funny up to a day before the rain comes.

So, I think we're overdue for a surname change and possibly an exhibit at your local freak show. Look for us, the newly-christened Weathermen (or Meteorologists, but the boys may have a tough time learning to spell that one), coming soon to a city near you.

Weathermen or not, I'm looking forward to today's daytime storm: nothing's better than a nice shower and a cup of coffee (decaf).

-Lindsey

Nutty = Sleepy

Nowadays, Moses gets downright goofy when he's sleepy. I think it's some form of delirium because he just giggles endlessly at nothing in particular, acts silly, and throws his body all over the place (pillows, couches, laps, etc.). When this stage hits, I know he'll fall asleep in a heartbeat if we go "night, night." This sleepy cue is much preferred over crankiness.

-Lindsey

How to identify a sick child

I know my boy is sick when the simple act of eating is too strenuous to warrant staying awake, not to mention the fact that he'd prefer his bottle over peaches and weenies.





-Lindsey

If I were a bettin' mom...

I *think* we'll see teeth soon. I know I've said this before, but I'm certain this time. I don't think I could get it wrong at this point, though.

Surely, we'll see something before he's one.

A Mom-servation

I know Moses isn't feeling well when it actually becomes easy to change his diaper.