Perhaps

Perhaps I should keep better track of my kids. 

Tonight, Henry was so quiet that I sort of forgot about him and went about my merry way feeding Gracie her peas (not a big fan) and peaches (HUGE fan).  I'm about finished up with the spooning and scraping that is feeding an almost 5 month old when I hear "squeak squeak squeak" followed by laughter.  Forgetting where I'd "left" Henry, I looked in the family room.  Not there.  I look in the sunroom, half expecting him to have colored all over himself since he'd already had a bath.  Nope.

"Henry. Where are you?"

"I in here, Mommy. I squeaking!"  (More laughter.)

"Where is here, Henry?"

"Da potty, silly Mommy."

Oh yeah, now I remember.  Henry said he wanted to sit on the potty. (Simply a ploy to get an "M".) He enjoys sitting on the pot and perusing the Land of Nod and Pottery Barn Kids catalogs. So I had removed his diaper and sat him on his little potty in the bathroom off the laundry room.

Squeak, squeak, squeak.

Well, folks.  Henry had peed on the floor.  And was proceeding to squeak his new Mickey Mouse crocs in his own urine. 

Chuckling,  I rolled my eyes, looked at him and said, "You are such a boy, Henry.  Take off your crocs; they are covered in pee."

"Yes," my sweet son said, "but they squeak!" 

The things Henry says...

"Dang it!"  (And yes, we're telling him not to say this.  But really are just sort of waiting until he gets a new catchphrase for when things fall.)

"Watch out!  She's a maneater."  (Why I now have to be careful what we listen to on the radio...)

"You so crazy, Mommy."

"Wait for it."  (a la Barney Stinson)

"What's that smell?  Oh.  I poopied in my pants."

"Wook.  It's da Cosby show."  (My sweet boy.  I'm so glad you enjoy the Cosby show.  Not every African American family is the Cosbys.  Just so you know.)

"My penis is pink."  (To which Sloan responded, "Why you gotta focus on the color, boy?"  Um, perhaps we should discuss not screaming this in public...)

"I'm a bobot.  Deee dooo dooo deet do!"  (Complete with arm motions.)

And his new favorite thing to do (thanks, once again to the Cosby Show)---to slobber on Grace and say, "I zerbert you!!!"

My new boyfriend...

And it is totally cool because Sloan has a crush on him too.

Techno-Parenting

As I type this, I am sitting at the dinner table.   I actually cooked tonight--meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas.  (Write it down.)  Henry just said, "Dang it.  Dang it, Gracie stuck" because I literally just had to shake the bumbo seat off her fat body.  (Yes.  He says "Dang it."  Perhaps this is the phrase I should have given up for lent...)
So why am I blogging at the dinner table?  Why is Sloan facebooking on his Blackberry?  Because we have a little boy who won't even try his dinner.*  Not even with the opportunity to dip it in kethcup.  He has, however, eaten 4 spoonfuls of ketchup.  We're not even telling him he has to clean his plate.  He just has to try one bite of each item.  He refuses.  Sloan tried to feed him a spoonful of mashed taters and he drooled it out.  Pit.  E.  Ful.  I'm not trying to be that psyhco mom who makes her kid eat stuff, it is just that I know that he will like all of the things on his plate if he only breaks down and tries them.  We've told him we will sit at the table and wait until he tries a bite of each until it is bedtime.  If he hasn't tried his dinner, there will be no Thomas or Lightning McQueen stories.  Just toothbrushing and then lights out.


But thanks to wifi, a new laptop, and a chubby bunny now sitting in my lap, waiting until your kid eats his dinner just got a whole lot easier.

*I blame my mother for this.  She prayed I would have children like me.  When I was a kid, I could go days without breaking down. My mom would serve me the same food over and over until it rotted.  I will not be serving him meatloaf for breakfast. I seriously never ate cucumbers until college out of spite. Stupid. Cucumbers are awesome. 

Out of Office Reply

Sorry for the long delay.  Was without computer for four days.  Am now on my NEW AWESOME laptop.
No time for blogging--must catch up on facebook and play outside while it is 70 degrees.
Holla!

Because you won't remember and I might forget...

My darling Henry,
I am writing this to you in such a public forum because by the time you can read this, you'll understand that were I to simply jot it down on paper I'd lose the paper.  Today was magical.
I also want to apologize for my self-pity as of late.  I've blamed being tired and you being two.  But let this be a lesson to you, my son, we are not victims of other people's moods.  You may be cranky and tired and unable to share, but that is no excuse for me to lose my temper with you.  Please forgive me.  You are two and your behavior is on par for a two year old.  I am 32, and quite frankly, there is no excuse.  It is not your fault, nor your father's fault.  I determine my behavior, and since the Bible tells us that Love is first and foremost patient, I have been unloving towards you as of late.  But please know that in as much as my frail heart can manage, I love you.  As unconditionally as humanly possible.  I pray only that you see that God is not finished with me yet and this gives us hope.
This morning, when I went into your room to wake you, you were reading aloud Henry and the Tunnel to Hop Hop.  When you saw me, your face lit up and you said, "Good morning, Mommy!"  You picked out a dinosaur Tshirt to wear--the one from my cousin Margo that says "Big Trouble in a little shirt."  You also wore your "Wocket Ship" shoes--the black sneakers that have flames on them.
After your breakfast of yogurt and miniwheats, you played with legos while I fed Gracie.  Occasionally you would come show her what you had built.  She especially liked it when you rolled the "Cwane train" on her legs.  You told her she was cute.  She is.
We went to the playground at Huguenot Park.  You wore your yellow snow jacket and the silly jester hat that belonged to your cousin William.  Whenever you wear this hat, people always tell you you are cute.  You are.  At the playground, you played in the sandbox and enjoyed burying a Han Solo figurine.  Some man there tried to tell you that it really was Anakin Skywalker but you said, "No sir, this An Olo."  You shared the shovels with two little boys.  You also enjoyed going down the big slides and informed me that you were too big for the baby slides.  We stayed at the playground for an hour and a half.
We went to lunch at River City Diner.  You loved all of the cars hanging from the ceiling and the mini jukebox at our table.  You told me all the letters and were concerned that there was no "I".  I attempted explaining to you how it looked too much like a 1, but I'm pretty certain you didn't understand.  You ordered for yourself.  The waitress looked at you and said, "And what do you want, young man?"  You shouted, "Hot dog, pwease.  And french fries.  Wots of french fries."  I was so proud of you ordering your own meal and also a little bit sad because you are so grown up.  You colored until your meal came and you ate all of your hot dog and most of your fries.  You even tried dipping your fries in Mustard for the first time, but told me you didn't like the "Yewwow Ketchup." 
When we got home, you were not excited about brushing your teeth.  You told me that you didn't need to brush your teeth because Papa fixed your boo-boo.  Helping you brush your teeth is a bit like wrestling an alligator, but at least today you screamed "No thank you" while I was doing it.  So you were mannerly in your thrashing about.  You picked a Charkey sticker for your toothbrushing chart.  While we brushed your teeth, you got your shirt wet and so you took it off.  You played shirtless for awhile and thought this was very funny.  You ran around the house saying, "Wook, Mommy, Henwe has nipples."  I laughed at you and you told me you were silly.  You also found a pen and drew on your Lego trains and told me they all now had silly faces. 
Before your nap you read me Percy and Harold.  You said that Percy got stuck in the water, which made Annie and "Larabelle" sad, so Harold helped him by dropping coal on Percy's head.  Oddly enough, that is a pretty accurate retelling of the story.  We also read the little critter book The New Baby and you told me that the baby's name was Gracie. 
You slept for a long time.  I woke you up from your nap around 5 and we lolled about in your bed for around 15 minutes just talking, me rubbing your back, and playing peek-a-boo with Hop Hop and Dog Dog.  You told me you had fun at the playground. 
I actually cooked tonight.  (Something I rarely do when Daddy is out of town.)  We had homemade whole wheat macaroni and cheese, with pureed spinach thrown in.  This was a gamble as I know you prefer the stuff in the blue box.  We watched the movie "Robots" while we ate dinner.  You thought Robin William's character was very silly and kept asking where Wall-E and Eve were.  I explained that this was a different Robot movie.  You told me it was a sillier "bobot movie".  I let you sit in your Dad's leather chair and eat dinner in front of the TV.  When I was a little girl, I sat in that same chair and watched TV with Papa. At the end of the movie, you started dancing because it was a James Brown song that told you to "Get up off of that seat."  You got up off of your seat.  Gracie was in my lap and I was jostling her around and raising her hands to make her dance.  This made her overjoyed and giggling.  You danced over, honked her nose, and then said, "Gwacie, you are cute!"  But then you wanted me to dance with you and not with Gracie. 
So we decided to have a dance party.  We went upstairs to your bedroom and got down!  I put Gracie in your wingback and you would yell at her over the music, "I dancing for you.  Gracie watch me dance!"  Gracie squeeled with glee and shook her legs.  You told me that Gwacie was dancing too.  I tried to pick her up to dance with us, but this made you upset. 
Let me try to describe to you what you look like while you are dancing.  While you are cute, you sort of look like a fool.  And quite possibly the whitest person on the planet.  Essentially, you run around in circles, shake your head, and pump your fists in the air.  You do this until you fall down.  Occasionally you stop, put your hands on your knees, and shake your fanny.  Unfortunately, I know where you got this move.  At one point, you were shaking your rear so fast you fell over backwards onto your head.  We danced to Jamiraquai, Stevie Wonder, the Blue Dogs, and John Lennon.  I was very proud that you knew most of the words to "Beautiful Boy".  It has been too long since I have sung that song to you.  Towards the end of the song, we played peek-a-boo under the covers.  You also liked it when I picked you up and twirled you around.  You laughed so hard I thought you were going to throw up. 
I read you your two stories (Thomas Gets Tricked and Henry and the Tunnel) and your Biboo story.  We are just at the part where Jesus is born.  You saw in the picture the stable and you told me it was a Baby Farm.  I asked you why and you said because it was "yittle and had a cow and a baby".  Makes perfect sense to me.
I checked on you about an hour after I put you down.  You were still up, legs crossed, looking at the book "Thomas and Big Big Bridge".  I knelt down beside you and was overcome with love for you.  I told you that you were my baby and I loved you.  You said that you had fun at the playground and eating french fries.  I told you that I had fun too.  You reminded me that we also watched a Silly Bobot movie.  I told you that I hoped we could have fun again tomorrow.  
I cannot imagine having a better day than I had today.  I'm sure it would have been lots of fun if Daddy could've been there, but in truth, I am thankful that I did not have to share you.
Thank you for being mine, my beautiful boy.  My life is better because you are in it. 

4 months and fabulous

So Gracie had her 4 month check up with her regular pediatrician this past week.  Um, yeah, she's gained 1/2 pound in the past week.  So that puts her at 16 lbs, 15 1/2 oz.  (Or a whopping 17 lbs if you round up that last half ounce).  That is ABOVE 97th percentile.  She's also 24 1/2 inches long (50th percentile) and her head circumference is in the 50th percentile as well.  The doctor did not say we need to put her on a diet, but he DID say she needs to level off and try to gain just a pound a month rather than the 2-2 1/2 pounds she's been putting on.  Apparently, if she keeps gaining weight like she is it will impede her ability to develop physically--as in sit up, crawl and walk (the latter 2 I don't mind delaying).  So as we are to be introducing cereals and veggies, we are to take away her nighttime bottle.  She only wakes up for it half of the time anyhow, so the doctor suspects that it is more out of habit than caloric need.  Should she just desperately want a bottle, we can give her water.  Apparenly my fears of her needing her big girl car seat before she can sit up were not unfounded.  My sister assures me that I'll be able to prop her up in the grocery cart by wedging her between a blanket and my purse.  I've started Gracie on some core muscle excercises (aka the exersaucer) to help her out.  We're getting H's carseat a girly cover and hunting down a safe high backed booster for the Pickle.  (Because I just read that the 11 of the most popular booster seats have been put on the unsafe list by the Highway safety people.)

"The Sweetness" (as G is known to her Daddy), because of her growing, gets to wear several outfits a day.  We've grown to love dresses as they allow her to hit the buffet without having to undo a button.  (BIG shoutout to the Donovan girls--Lily, Eve, Ruby, Tess, Mollie and Erin--for the cute clothes.  Wore the pink dress to church on Sunday.  A dress so cute I don't even mind that I have to iron it.)  Today she is wearing fleece pants, a 9 month onesie, and a fleece hoodie vest (that is not unlike a sausage casing on her).  Sloan laughed at her outfit this morning, and I guess he has a point: why does a 4 month old need a vest, much less a vest with pockets and a hood?

Henry has enjoyed playing with her in her gym as she now coos and talks to him.  Henry is very into investigating noises as of late, so she's a hit with him.  Although he did ask to hold her the other day and about 3 seconds post lap placement he shrieked, "Off Gwacie!  You're heavy!"  Poor Grace.  Henry also enjoys "being siwwy."  This includes putting Gracie's Bumbo seat on his head and telling me he is "Darf Vader".  I'll try to capture this on film, but his Silliness does not like to pose for the camera. 

Thank you to all of you who emailed me or commented in order to encourage me with the biting.  So far, we have been bite free this week (or at least since Sunday).  He talks about his boo-boo less and less and it is always in the context of "Papa (what he calls my dad) fixed my boo-boo.  Papa is doctor, Mommy.  Did you know that?"  Yes, Henry.  I knew that.  Except he doesn't give most of his patients $5 for visiting him--apparently that is just for grandkids.  (Although with 14 grandkids that IS a lot of patients!)  He has been working on his manners in always saying "No, Thank you," "Yes, Please", "Yes/No Sir/Mam"--(although it is mostly NO SIR!), and even saying "Pardon me" when he burps.  In fact, yesterday, during breakfast, I burped.  He looked at me and said, "Pardon you, Mommy".