William Wyatt : 5 YEARS OLD!

Holy cow kiddo.  Today, you are five.  There are so many wonderful and amazing things that are ahead of you in your 5th year, that it sort of takes my breath away.  Even though you are my middle boy, sometimes I still think of you as my baby boy.  I think it's because you have allergies and asthma and get sick a lot.  I'm always worrying about you.  Even when you are a grown-up, I will always worry about you.

But.  YOU do not need me worrying about you because your life is moving fast.

Kindergarten is so close you can taste it.  We'll find out your teacher in a few weeks and we are hoping it's Mrs. Easton, the teacher that Elliott had in kindergarten. You are so ready for real school that when school actually starts in August, you might fly there.  I will, of course, worry that you'll smell something strange and throw up in your classroom, but hopefully that worry will never come to fruition.

Quinn and I will be sad to see you go to school.  You are our buddy and we might be a little lost without you.  There are days, when you are home, that you and I hardly talk to each other.  We just go about our business - me "moming" and you "Lego-ing".  Unless you need food or the TV turned on, you are completely independent.

You love to sing and dance.  You love the band the "arctic monkeys".  You love to go to the zoo, eat french fries and pizza, and could spend all day lying on the couch watching TV.  You are a great athlete, and for the most part, pretty considerate of others.  You are very conscientious of the outfits you pick, the shoe and sock combination you sport, and the height of your mow hawk.

This year in preschool has been interesting for you.  There is a kid named Braxton who has driven you crazy all year long.  He messes with your stuff, he touches and messes up your hair, and pretty much every day when you get in the car, you have stories of tormenting.  A couple weeks ago though, your teacher told me that you'd had enough with this kid and during play time at school, after he took a toy from you and wouldn't give it back, you hit him in the leg.  You got a lecture from your teacher, as did Braxton, but that was it.  I'm pretty sure your teacher was on your side, and though I don't condone hitting in the least (Braxton did hit you first), I was proud of you for sticking up for yourself.  And, we got french fries at In-n-Out on the way home.

You are an excellent truth teller and tattle tell.  Your desire to follow the rules, and be recognized for following the rules is pretty great and it always keeps you on the straight and narrow.  May it keep you on the straight and narrow path for your whole life, too.  Even if you started the fight that leads to blood and tears, and you come to tell me what Elliott did to you, you tell me what you did to him, too.

You don't scream and cry nearly as much as you used to and you've almost finished your t-ball season and haven't shed a tear.  Yeah!  You didn't even cry when you got your kindergarten shots, which was pretty impressive.

I'll tell anyone I know how lucky I am to be the mom to three great boys.  And though I love my boys equally for all their great qualities and traits, you are my boy.  You always have been and always will be.  Sometimes I get sad that I don't have a daughter, who, when we're all older, will go to target or on a late night diet coke run with me.  But, I think that I will always be able to bribe you with a Slurpee or french fries to go just about anywhere with me and for that, I will always be grateful.

Love you buddy.  Happy Birthday.

so, so, so, so, funny

Yesterday morning I was sick.  All day yesterday I felt like crapola.  Halfway through our school morning routine I got hit by one of the metformin induced stomach aches that renders me totally helpless for a good two hours or more.

I called our dad.  I was in a panic but luckily he had the time and was able to rush home and get the five year old off to school.  That just left me and the Chick to fend for ourselves.

He had a snack, not including the plastic cannon he was thinking about eating, and he had the Mickey Mouse Club House on the boob tube.  He kept checking on me to make sure I was okay.

One of the best thing this kid does these days is tell stories.  They always start with, "Mom, it was so, so, so, so, so funny....." and end with something about the baby elephant "blasting a turd" at the zoo, Perry the Platypus thwarting the evil doctor, or something that he made his pirates do.

After I had recovered a bit and sat down on the couch with him and a cherry coke, I sent the above picture to his dad.  I am so grateful that this kid is so chill.  He always has been, always will be and I so, so, so, so love him for it.

Morning Conversation

(Note: The Chick is not tall enough to actually reach up to the counter. He was standing on a bike seat.)

Mama: Hey Chick, what are you doing?
Chick: Yust Yooking.
Mama: What are you looking for?
Chick: I yooking for pizes.
Mama: Oh, did you find any prizes on the counter?
Chick: No. Not yet.

The Squirt: 24 Months

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday crazy cooky puppy

Happy Birthday to you!

Today is your birthday my sweet, road rashed little boy. Can you believe it? You turn two years old officially at 1:39 pm, and even though we celebrated your birthday with a big party last weekend, today will be as special as we can make it for you. The sun is shining, we'll wear shorts, and maybe go find a pig to stare at and a tractor to ride.

Oh little boy, I don't know what we'd do without you. You are crazy and funny and smart. You talk and talk and talk and 90% of it makes perfect sense. You dance and play and run and wrestle. You are brave and coordinated, sensitive and will sometimes even sit on my lap. You sleep through the night most nights now (finally) and you can eat ice cream. What little boys life is complete without some ice cream!

You love dinosaurs. Nothing is funnier than hearing a two year old say spinosaurus, brachiasaurus and t-rex. Your favorite shows are Dino Dan, Dinosaur Train, and Kipper. You love to dance and when we listen to Rock Lobster you go down, down, down to the floor and wait to jump up and start dancing again. You chew holes through binkers and love to take Tylenol..probably because your dad has convinced you it's candy.

You have a goofy sense of humor and love to call people cuckoo and poopy. Most of your favorite words, you end in an "eeee" sound. Sugar is Sugeee. Apple is Apeee juice. Chocolate is choceee. You get the idea. You are starting to love food, which is awesome but no food can compete with cake and frosting. That seems to be your thing. You can beg for a cake and I'll make you one and you can sniff out a cake in the oven fresh from a nap. It's a skill you should maybe learn to market one day little Chickie - you are like a cake bloodhound. Granted, you only eat the frosting, but we're working on that.

You love to do what the big boys do, play and run and shoot balls and play video games. It is so awesome to see your independence and love of life. You are a leader, not a follower and I can hardly wait to see the path you carve out for yourself. It's going to be an awesome ride.

For your birthday, you got a cooter (scooter) and you can now coot (scoot) the day away. It blows my mind that your little two year old body and brain are coordinated enough to do a scooter, but it's pretty crazy awesome that you can.



Oh kiddo. Happy Birthday. You are a super cool two year old and we all love you very much.

The Squirt: 23 Months

Hi Crazy.

It's only one month until your birthday.

You've decided to act like a two year old a little bit early.

You are still full of wonder and amazement at the world around you but you are also full of yourself. It seems you've been possessed by a little teeny tiny demonic sprite whose only goals in life is to scream really loud in the ears of everyone present, fight and hit, and say No! Mine!  But you do it with a smile on your face.

Ah, such is life.

I've been having major flashbacks to when your brother was this age. He was this age when I was pregnant with you and we had a battle about kicking mom in the stomach. Thank heavens I'm only protecting myself from the kicks, not another little person, this time around because those kicks are vicious.

Sid Vicious.

Anyway - in the last month you survived your first trip to Disneyland while sick. I'm sure there are more "sick trips" to come for you but we all survived. You have become a TALKING MACHINE which is so totally awesome. We can understand about 80% of what you are saying and you are taking to words like a duck to water. It's so amazing that I really don't know how to describe it. You've gone from a few grumbled up words to complete sentences with 4 or 5 words strung together. It's pretty cool.  And today, on your own you decided to say, "Bye - Bye Ikea".  That cinnamon roll must have been really good.

You are a fighter and a lover. You fight with your brother and you love all your stuffed puppies. And your blankets. It seems that you'll drag about 7 blankets around the house all day long. You totally remind me of Linus from the Peanut cartoons. One day too, you will be able to open a mail box with that trusty blanket of yours.

You love Uncle Willie. You love telling stories. You love airplanes and green trucks and giraffes and tic tacs. In fact as I type this right now you are flying a pack of orange tic tacs around the kitchen like an airplane while shoving them into your mouth as quickly as possible.

I love that last week, before you went crazy at Target, you actually sat in the cart like a civilized little boy singing, "baby, baby, baby oh!"  at the top of your lungs for all to hear.  You brought more smiles to the faces of Bieber fans than the little Bieb ever could.

Oh my boy I love you. I love you when you sit on my lap, when you say, "Sa-ee mama" after you hit me on the head with an old ipod and the way you yell Elliott down the hall when you can't find your brother.

The two of you really are pretty good friends right now and I hope it always stays that way. You give hugs and play with him just like I'd always hoped. You guys fight too, but we're working on that.

In one month we'll be celebrating your two year old birthday. I'm just totally in awe of that fact and am not sure what I'll do with a 4 year old and a 2 year old. This is uncharted territory my boy. You will officially no longer be the baby.  I don't think that I can call you "my baby" any more.

I'd better start getting used to that.

oh, P to the S - You have finally started sleeping through the night.

I'm not sure who we have to thank for that, maybe Grandma Huber in heaven, but whomever we thank or whatever we thank....

your dad is very grateful.

That boy!

As mentioned many times, my mother is numero dos of eight children. The oldest boy in her family, my uncle Dee was child number 6. According to many sources, including him, whenever my Grandma called his name as a child, it was preceded with a, "Dammit to hell!"  I love this picture of him as a little kid.  I think it probably personifies the spirit of his childhood.  He was strong willed, the first born boy and often gave my grandma a run for her money.

Now, fast forward a bit....oh, 40 something years to the little boy, almost two, who resides in my home. The one we call, The Chick. This kid...I tell you what. The moniker that my uncle so fondly remembers being his may start to stick to this kid. He's sick all the time and I'll admit that we baby him because of that. It's hard not to. Regardless, this kid has a mind of his own, a strong will, and is sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.

At Disneyland, when he wasn't coughing up a lung, he was dragging a blanket, whining and yelling at us. At several points during our trip he just gave up and found a great piece of asphalt to curl up on and call home. For the last 90 minutes of our car ride home he would pull his bink out of his mouth and scream, "DAD! UP! NOW! PLEASE!" because he wanted out of his car seat.

Yesterday, bless his heart, he had a nearly 4 hour nap and Elliott and I didn't know what to do with ourselves. There wasn't anyone to cough on us, yell at us, or take a swing. Today though he must be feeling better because that Chickadee of ours is back in true form.

Elliott was at school. I was folding laundry in my room and Wyatt was playing in his. I finished the laundry and checked on him. All was well. I came downstairs to send a few e-mails on the laptop. I literally didn't leave him unsupervised for more than 7 minutes. Not a big deal, or so I thought.

I came upstairs to get him ready to go and pick Elliott up from school. After there was no response from calling his name I should have known that I'd find trouble. And trouble there was. That boy of mine was hiding in a corner of his room. There was a familiar smell wafting from the bedroom. That boy of mine, upon closer inspection, was covered in St. Ives Apricot face scrub. It was in his hair, all over his face like a beard, up his nose a bit, and caked on his hands, shirt and pants.

I picked him up and carried him to my room. Luckily, the mess was all on him and he'd had enough common sense to place the squeezed out tube on an empty zip lock bag on my bed. Oh, so considerate!

We then marched into the bathroom and I stripped him down for bath number two of the morning. By this point, the stuff had been on him 10 minutes and he'd been rubbing it in...his entire face was blister red, as was a couple spots on his head. I was certain he was having an allergic reaction and I'd need to find the eppi pen. I also was pretty sure that he'd eaten some, he's that kind of kid, and I didn't know what I was going to do.

I got him bathed and dressed, carefully washing all the scratchy stuff off his face, avoiding his eyes. I then forced as much water and juice into his system as I could, hoping to flush it out. But then I figured he didn't eat any....his mouth looked clean.

Anyway....this kid is such a terror. His true personality came out on our vacation and I'm really starting to worry about what I'm going to do with him when he brings bugs and critters into my house. He already eats dirt....what next?

Elliott may have regularly scheduled meltdowns and tell me that I'm dumb. But, he isn't sneaky....except for that one time last summer when he shoved a q-tip into his ear and busted out his ear drum.

Yeah, except for that.

The Squirt:: 22 months

Hey Smart Fart.

What's happenin'?

Oh really? That's nice.

You my boy are 22 months old. When people ask how old you are you say, "two". Close enough.

The last month has been fun. You are smart and funny and talking up a storm. You tried a hot dog and like spaghetti. Go figure.

You love to cheer at basketball games and bask in the sun shine. You run everywhere and can communicate through sound almost as much as you can through words.

Case in point. Thursday we went to the zoo. You were in animal heaven and cried when we had to leave because you wanted to go and play with the elephants. When dad got home from work you attacked his knees as usual. Dad said, "Wyatt did you go to the zoo today?" You said, "uh huh!" Dad said, "What animals did you see?" and you immediately made the sound of an elephant, a gorilla, a chicken, a rooster and then something that your brother said was a giraffe. It was super cute.

I love to watch you play. You can entertain yourself so well. You'll go down in the basement to shoot baskets all alone byand can lay on the floor and drive cars for ages.

Your vocabulary is expanding at lightening speed. Today we were sitting watching a show before your crazy brother got home from school and you went to the drawer to grab a new blanket. The blue blanket in question however didn't have a tag, or in our house a "ticket". You climbed up onto my lap, felt around all for edges and then looked at me with sad eyes and said, "mama, no ticket".

A sentence. YOU MADE A SENTENCE. For that, you got kisses. And for my kisses, you gave me some back.

Every morning we go through the same routine.

You say, "mama, daddy?"
I say, "Dad's at work."
You say, "Dad truck."

Every school day you say, "Mama, Elliott?"
I say, "I don't know, where is Elliott?"
You say, "Elliott...school!"

Thank you for being my boy. Thank you for being cute and funny. Even when you tell me "NO" and take a swing I'm still amused...but only for another three weeks or so. I love your energy and your passion for the things that are important to you like balls, and blues clues and chocolate chips.

And cake. Man, you love cake.  And diet coke.  But that's a whole 'nother blog post.

The Squirt:: 21 months

Oh.  My.  Gosh.

You are almost two.

Crazy.

Seriously.  The craziest thing ever.

What do I love about you in the last month little Chickie?

Everything.  Well, not you being sick (again) and not you maybe having a staff infection that wasn't an infection but a giant zit sore thing.  But other than that, we've had a grand time the last few weeks.

You are really starting to come into your own little personality, especially because you've started talking. The day after Grandma Huber's funeral you became a jabber box.  It's probably just a coincidence, but I firmly believe that you wanted to talk, but that your little mind and spirit still remember too much before you were born and that if you talked, you would have spilled the beans about grandma.  You would have said something to warn us, or to comfort her that should have been kept to the angels so you were tight lipped.  But, once you got the all clear, probably from Grandma herself, up in heaven, you have become a motor mouth.

You sing, you laugh, you tease.  You are forming sentences.

"Coke, mama.  Please!"
"Burr.  Cold church."
"Elliott, stop!!!"

I'm not sure that there is a word, in the last two weeks that we've said to you that you haven't tried to repeat at least one.  Yesterday, Elliott said that writing his name on 13 valentines for school was, "So fusterating."  You looked at him, laughed and then said, "Fustoerou".  Okay I have no idea what you said but you tried and trying is great in my book.

You love to run and play and crash.  You love to throw stuff, mostly balls.  Yesterday a ball rolled between your legs and you thought it was the funniest thing ever.  "Ball, yegs mama" you said.  And last night in gym you would chase a basketball down, get on the free throw line, throw the ball and yell, "Shoot!"

Even better than that, you're finally starting to use peoples names which is pretty exciting.  You've learned Willie, and perfected Elliott.  You say, Haley and even have tried your hand at Molly and Parker.  You will not say Grandma, but you do say Grandpa and I'll tell you what, you are wrapping those Grandpa's even more tightly around your fingers.

When you find something exciting you clap and cheer.  When the opposite happens you yell and slam your fist into the closest object.  Yesterday it was the wall.  Last week it was my leg.  Whatever works, right?

You are the bestest #2 boy in the whole world.  I love you.

The Squirt:: 20 months

Hi Chick. Welcome to 20 months. What should we do to celebrate? How about get sick? Okay. Sounds good.

You've been to the doctor twice in three days. You have "asthma exacerbation". What does that mean? I'm not really certain but the doctor said that basically, the cold that you got on Friday has gotten into your lungs/bronchial and has left you in a constant state of attack. It's very mild, and you're wheezing but you get the inhaler every four hours until the cough goes away and have a new medication, a preventative drug, to try and help you out so that when you get sick, it isn't all drama and emergency runs to the primary children's instacare.



I'm so sorry that you are sick. Minus a pretty testy disposition however, and raccoon eyes because of total exhaustion, you really are doing pretty well. Grandma and I were talking last week at the ball game about how lovable you are. We love your brother, but let's face it he's to smart for his own good and sometimes gets on our nerves. You however, are just a sweet, cuddly, ball of goo. You'll sit on laps, give kisses and loves, and are just all around adorable. Grandma Huber, every time she sees you, says that you are the cutest kid in the entire world.

I agree.

That doesn't however excuse your occasional naughty behavior. You've got a hankerin' to throw and hit. Granted, there isn't much force behind any of it, and the windup is pretty darn cute, but last week you threw a flashlight at me and got me in the chin. The bruise has turned yellow (thank heavens for good make-up) and I still have a welt. You did survive one of your first time outs though - being tossed into the crib for a few minutes until I could regain my composure didn't kill you.



Just in the last two weeks, you've really made some great strides in becoming a big boy. You tell me when you need your diaper changed, you no longer sit on your booster chair at the table, and you've started talking. Not a lot mind you, but communication is getting so much easier. It's almost like you are a parrot - copying and mimicking everything we say. You do however, have some favorite new words.

Coke
Buzz (like Buzz and Woody)
Baboon
Cheetah
Oh no!
drink (comes out dink)
butt
out

And you've even started to put words together like, "up, mama", "ball mama", "dink, mama". It's very impressive. I love that we can talk to each other. Just last week Elliott was still asleep and you and I were eating breakfast at the table. It was just one of those "ah ha" moments for me...I was sitting with my baby at the table but suddenly you weren't a baby anymore. You were this big kid having a conversation with me while eating your pop tart. It was pretty cool.



Oh baby boy, you are so smart and cute and fun to be around.  You love to color and draw and sing and run and dance.  You love being alive and part of the family.  We all love you so much. All 29 pounds of you.

The Squirt:: 19 months

Boy oh boy Chickie.  You have had quite a month.  It's amazing how, like, three days after you were officially one and a half, a toddler, you changed into a little boy.  There isn't one single smidgen of baby left in you and it's freakin' awesome.

It's also proven to be a bit destructive.  Your super powers for chaos are strong.  Dad and I haven't quite figured out your kryptonite yet but we're working on it.  Once we discover the thing that brings you down, you and your terrorizing ways will be squashed.  But, we'll still love you and play with you and take you places and buy you french fries.  We're just nice like that.

In the last four weeks you've had bronchitis and mild croup and a pretty serious bout of asthma that got you at the Primary Children's Instacare for a few hours.  You set off Grandma Connie's house alarm and called 911 on Grandma Judy's cell phone.  The first incident was easy to fix - the second resulted in a visit to the house by the police - and I don't mean Sting and Stuart Copeland.

You only puked, I think, twice in the last month which is a record.  You are still a terrible sleeper and the last week has sucked dead goat as far as you sleeping is concerned but hopefully, some day, you will turn a corner and decided it's cool to sleep at night instead of waking up four times a night, screaming as if you were being attacked by a moose, and wandering around the house.

Fun times, kiddo.  Fun times.



I am most proud of you this month for eating and talking.  You have decided that food is your friend and are almost down to no bottles at night to supplement the lack of nutrients you receive during the day.  You have started to eat chicken!!!!  It's awesome.  In our house we love good eaters and you are starting to fit right in.  Sitting at the dinner table every night and watching you eat, and play, and be part of the family is just so much fun.  You make us laugh little boy.  You are infectious and contagious and one of the funniest things around.

And you're starting to talk - not just babble, but real communication.  We've almost mastered "Thank you" even though you'll only do it for me, and we're working on "please" and just for fun, "Fart" because that seems to be your favorite past time in the last week.  A couple of weeks ago I told you that you were "coo-coo".  Now you wander around the house like a parrot calling everyone the same.  When you want something, or like something you say, "uh-huh" and for the opposite, "Nuh-huh".  It comes with a big head nod and smile that's just too funny.



Just the other night we were waiting for your dad and brother and you found a football.  You my little Chickadee set that ball on the floor, said your version of one, a very clear two, and then charged at the football and kicked it from the kitchen table to the back door.  A mighty distance for one who doesn't have the best coordination.

You always want to sit on the counter when we're in the kitchen.  I never lift you up.  I think if you could talk, you'd yell at me for always saying, "Say UP Wyatt and I'll pick you up."  The other night though you were begging me to get you up.  I just looked into your cute beady little eyes, said, "Say UP, Wyatt" and guess what, you yelled UP!!!!! at the top of your lungs.  It was so great.  Now, up is the word for up, down, out, in and pretty much everything else that requires movement or the desire to be carried around.  It's cool though - I don't mind.

I love you so much little fart.  You are so much my boy that I don't know what I would do, or the world would do without a little spitfire spirit like yours.  Nothing stands in your way. You are smart as a whip, quick to catch on, and can figure out how to take apart nearly everything that is placed in front of you. You are determined to have the world and with that kind of attitude, one day the world will be destined to be yours for the taking.

Happy Weekend - have a chocolate doughnut

The Squirt:: 17 months

Hello you movin' groovin' shakin' little fart.

You dance.

You sing.

You laugh.

You pull funny faces.

You smash your fingers in doors, fall down and scrape your face, and thrown things at your brother and hit him in the nose.

You cuddle and snuggle and climb and run.

You walk backwards. It's the funniest thing in the whole world.

You spin in a circle and then fall down.



You have an intense sweet tooth. You love candy. You stand and bang on the fridge and yell until I realize that you want the jelly beans that are "hidden" on top of the fridge.

You only want to eat french fries, junior mints, fruit snacks, chex mix and the occasional apple, grape, or strawberry.   Yes my boy, picky eaters are born, not made.  We gave you a green bean the other day - and while watching your brother snarf them down by the bushel, you threw yours on the floor.

You no longer look like a baby. You look like a lean, mean, toddling machine. Every day I look at you in awe of how much you are growing and learning.





Pretty soon, you'll be talking my ear off, asking my why the earth is round, and telling me that you don't need my help.

I love you, you big lug! So does everyone else. I'm pretty sure.

letting go...just a little

Let's be honest here, folks.  I'm an uptight individual.  Not rigid or uncaring - but I like rules and structure and functionality and planning.  Lists rule my life - sometimes even lists of lists.  I vacuum a lot.  I've had dreams about my Dyson.

Not really.  Just seeing if you're still with me.

Yesterday was hot.  The boys and I were tired and a tad bit on the grumpy side.  We went outside to sweat.  Remember that Indian Summer I was talking about?  It was in full force yesterday.

Now, the super uptight mom would have stayed outside 5 minutes, decided it was to hot, and drug the boys back in the house to the basement.

Yesterday though - uptight list mom disappeared long enough for some good old fashioned playing in the sprinklers time.

The boys got soaked.  I got soaked.  My camera got soaked.  Chickie fell and stubbed his toe - but in the stubbing sort of trimmed his toenail so it was a win/win for everyone.

We had fun.

We were happy.

We had a great day.

the Squirt:: 16 months

I love you, Chickerdoodle.

I love that you are a good dancer and that when we take Elliott to school in the morning you walk in holding his hand and when we pick him up 2 hours later you try to say "Elliott school", but it sounds like, "E-ut choo".

I love to see how excited you get when you see your Uncle Willie and that when we wear our uncle Willie t-shirts on football day you point to his picture and smile because you are so proud.



I love that you love french fries and diet coke. Just like me.

I love that you run everywhere, because those extra few seconds are going to add up.

I love that you almost know how to put the key in the mailbox, have figured out how to go down the stairs and turn the dryer off in mid cycle without me knowing - leaving me a soggy surprise when I'm ready to switch loads.

I love that you try to be so big - ride your brothers scooter, pull weeds, climb and dig. You are getting to be such a real little boy - the baby is gone and the toddler is officially here.



I love that you love your brother. You are figuring how to fight back, defend your territory, and protect your mama. The biting, I don't love so much - but your fierce loyalty to me and protection of my lap as your throne is just too cute.

I am so proud of you for sticking it out the last 7 weeks you've been so sick. It's been awful to see you not feel well and know that all I could to is just hold you on my lap and sing to you. I think that I've sung "hey Jude" a thousand times in the last little while.




You are growing up so fast little Chick. I cannot believe how quickly time is passing and how fast my baby is turning into my little boy. Thank you for helping me vacuum and swiffer and do laundry and throw away trash and pick up toys and put away dishes.

I love you!

(#&$)*(@)D)R*)@#* )#Q$*(@)(*

I love my boys.

I love my boys.

I love my boys.

I do not love teething.

I do not love teething.

I do not love teething.

I also do not love being awake until 4:30 in the morning because my baby is screaming and puking all over me (and in my hand).  I also do not love that once the parents in the house finally got back  into bed at 4:30 in the morning that all the smoke alarms in the house decide to start chirping and there were mysterious gun shotty sounds outside.

I do love that the culprits....the 4 teeth in question have finally, after weeks of messing with our minds, finally decided to poke their little heads through and show their faces.

damn teeth!

Captain Destruction!

Do you remember that cartoon character, Captain Caveman?

I don't remember what show he was part of, something Hannah Barbera.  I do remember that he was a bit wild and crazy, had googly eyes, and always caused more trouble than good.  But, he somehow caught the bad guy in the end.



Well, think, "Captain Caaaavemannnnnnn"  but in our house I think we'll call him "Captain Destruction".

This little Chick of mine has come out of the sickie cocoon of bronchitis full steam ahead.  He's feeling better and as part of feeling better, he seems to feel a sense of vengeance against his older brother, also known as "the one who takes all my toys away".  In the last four days or so, Captain Destruction has learned to turn everything into a weapon to inflict bodily harm, always aiming for his brothers nose.  He has learned to scratch and head butt and bite.

Yes, bite.  I've managed to stop him in his slow motion movie vampire maneuvering, but soon I'll be too slow.  He may draw blood.

So not only has a little aggressive streak made it's way out of his presumably sweet personality, he's also upped the anty when it comes to getting into stuff and wreaking havoc.

He pulls knives out of drawers, cleaner out of cupboards, and tries to eat only things he knows he shouldn't.  Last night, after some parenting mis-communication, I was downstairs and Ross was cleaning one of the boys rooms.  Elliott started yelling for, "Mom, hurry.  Come quick".  I didn't know what he needed.  He was in the tub so I really figured he needed to get out and pee.

Upon entering the bathroom however, Elliott started laughing uncontrollably.  You see, his 15 month old brother was fully dressed, in the tub with him.  Apparently, the Chick can climb into the bathtub.  I didn't know that.  Ross didn't know that.

What a lovely surprise.

We got him out, put him in his own bath and then one thing led to another and I had two naked babies running through my house.  It took all we had as parents to contain the nuditiy and the chaos.

Fast forward to this morning.  I was sitting in captain destruction's room on the floor folding laundry.  Elliott was in the rocking chair watching Olivia.  It's our super hero's habit to wander away, especially when were all in the same place.  He climbs on beds, step stools, and generally makes a mess.

It was too quiet.

He wasn't in Elliott's room.

He was in my bathroom.  Standing on a stool. Using the finger nails on the hand that hasn't been clipped to dig all my blush out of it's container and spill it into the sink.  It was like my make-up had been brutally attacked and the culprit was too dim to leave the scene of the crime.  Probably because he was having too much fun.

Cleaning up his very pink fingers wasn't that fun.

Oh, the joys of mothering boys.

The Squirt:: 15 months

Hello Little Chickie -

Today you are exactly 15 months old.

You are funny and make me laugh. You sing and dance and pull crazy faces. You follow your brother around and love him so much that even when he tries to knock you down, trip you, and take your toys, you still laugh and give him hugs.

I love spending time with you. You make my heart happy.

In the last month you've had more ear infections (sorry), have four new teeth (grand total: 12) and have been a little irritable, though I can't say I blame you. You've been on your first boat ride and tried to jump in the lake, took Miss Molly to the zoo for her first trip and you rode on the zoo train, which most definitely made your day. You stood and danced the entire 5 minute ride.



In the last couple of weeks you've figured out how to go down the stairs, though I'm scared every time you do it. You have also figured out how to climb onto everything. For some silly reason I thought we'd bypass climbing but I was wrong. If I cannot find you, you've climbed up on your brothers bed and are jumping around like a monkey. Or, you're in my bathroom doing some major damage standing on the foot stool getting into everything.

The other day, your brother and I were in the living room and you were in the kitchen. I left you alone because I was sure you were just getting silverware out of the drawer that's at your height. Next thing I knew, you were paying me a visit with a steak knife, clenching the blade in your fist. I panicked a bit not sure how I was going to get it from you without you cutting yourself, but you gave the knife up to me. Once I had it in my hand, I said, "Show me where you got that," because I had no idea you could reach the highest drawer where the knives are stored. Silly me - you didn't get it out of the drawer. You pushed a little red chair over to the counter top, climbed up and got it. It was the knife we'd cut our strawberries with for breakfast.

Stunts like that kiddo are going to be the end of me.



You are getting to be a better eater these days, trying new foods and you haven't gagged or puked for a good two weeks. Yeah. You have even, almost, figured out how to use a fork.  That's pretty cool.  You have however, managed to convince your dad (finally) that every once in a while, picky eaters are born, and you are their king. As long as the food placed before you is sweet or salty, you're game. Or a french fry. Some days I think all you'll eat is french fries. Uncle Willie has survived on french fries and bread for 15 years, maybe you can too.



We've spent our whole summer hanging out at Shavy Jones. I think that you've probalby figured out how to shave ice and you've definitely figured out how to eat it. Oh, can you eat ice - and dump it out, and splash in it. Minus trying to pick up ants and eat dirt when were at the patio, your summer of ice has been a roaring success.

As always little boy, I love you. I don't know what I would do without you and your kisses and hugs and dancing and laughing.

If it's okay though, I'd like you to stop trying to pick my nose.

The Squirt::: 14 months

Alrighty, kiddo.

What to say? What to say?

What is a mom to say about her 14 month old that loves to scream and laugh and bang his head into the wall for fun?

Not much, I tell ya. Especially when this morning you figured out how to give your hand a swirly. Yes, I said that blog readers. This boy sticks one hand in the toilet and the other flushes. I've already had to break that party up twice today and it hasn't been pretty.

But Chickie - I love you so much. You are so sweet and kind and careful. You try hard to be gentle to sweet little Miss Molly and you love your Uncle Willie so much you might explode.



Your molars are coming in and you're pretty miserable. I'm just glad that the chicken nugget-french fry-strawberry-formula puke landed on your dad last night, not me. I really am so sorry about the mouth little buddy. It's just got to suck.

We're having a grand summer you, your brother and I. We are playing and laughing (and screaming and crying) but it's all in the name of love and fun. You love being outside, are starting to enjoy car rides and the swimming pool, and the other night we drove past the buffalo and elk farm and you just giggled and waved at all the elk - it must have been the coolest thing you've ever seen.



I love that you are becoming more chatty and animated every day. You swim in the bathtub, sing songs to yourself and when we go out to eat, if the restaurant music suit you, you just start grooving out in the high chair. No one can resist that charm, I promise.

The Squirt:: 13 months

Hello my boy.

Over the weekend you became 13 months old.  You inched one step closer to super coolness, too.  Being one suits you just fine.  You move about the cabin freely exploring and destroying everything in your path.  It seems that rather than thinking you're a toddler, you are instead a rock star and our house is your hotel room to trash.

You're cute though, so I guess it's okay.

You've been walking for two months now and have figured out how to dance really well and to the beat of the music and ride a bike.  We took you to the allergy doctor to find out what you're allergic to (thank goodness it isn't me), you had a reaction to your measles vaccine, and have permanently skinned knees and a bruised head from all your crashing about.

You love to be outside.  Sometimes you stand at the front door and just beg until I let you out like a little puppy.  Chalk, sprinklers, bikes, walks...you name it and you're game.  Oh, and lets not forget eating chalk, and dirt and washing rocks.  That is important stuff, too.

Over the last few weeks you have finally figured out how to sleep through the night.  Yeah!  Your dad thanks you!  You are an absolute jabber box and at the zoo last week you thought every animal was a quacking duck.  It was pretty funny.

Though food has been your enemy in the past, just over the last week (not counting today) the choking and gagging on everything has been replaced by chewing and swallowing.  It's a miraculous development.  The pediatrician says you need to drink 12-18 oz a day of soy milk and then we can get rid of the formula.  A few swallows do not count kiddo so get a move on.

Thank you for being such a funny, smart, and beautiful little boy.  It is an absolute joy to be your mama - even if you scream like a peacock when you don't get your way.

Allergies

Today was a big day.  We took the Chick to the allergist.

He has food issues.  Has since the day he was born and they don't really seem to be getting any better.

After a lengthy talk about his history with our new doctor and then the prick test on his back, we now we know what those major food issues are.  Chicker is allergic to Dairy and Eggs and we've been told to avoid peanut butter until he's older.

Super easy to avoid dairy and eggs in everyday life, right?

Um....no!  Hello, what planet do you live on?

Did you know that even most brands of hot dogs (which I don't eat but kid 1 does and we've thought about giving kid 2 a try) have milk in them?

Yep - it looks like the Chick and I are going vegan.  At least until he's 5 - at which time he may have outgrown the evil allergies over the next 4 years while his immune system continues to develop.