Talking Trucks

I find myself missing fairly entertaining comments from Q on a regular basis, only figuring them out later. Earlier this week I explained that his dinner was a little hot, but in the meantime he could eat some tortilla chips. He asked, “Is it the Mean Time now, Mommy?” I thought he was asking if it was evening time now. J helped him out, “Yes, now is the meantime.”

He’s also been asking, “Is N happy? Is N happy, Mommy?” He’ll ask this about the cats, his sister, J, or me. The other day he asked me if I was happy, just as I had the two kids in a golden snuggly moment. You bet kid.

He’s suddenly launched into a new phase of imaginative play. He will describe a book as if he is the main character. “Then I found a stick and I whacked the tree with it, and the snow fell down.” (The Snowy Day) “I climbed up on the river bank into the reeds and something screeched in the sky above me.” (Come Along Daisy!) A boy after my own heart.

Lately he’s also been pointing at pictures and saying, “I’m gonna play with dat truck/tractor/excavator.” He points to a window on his train station, “I’m gonna look out dat window, Mommy.”

And his trucks are taking on more and more personality. “Excavator was spitting up on the spit cloth.” I asked if Excavator felt better now. “Excavator and Articulated Dump Truck were crying…”

Articulated Dump Truck was a gift from friends upon Q becoming a Big Brother. In case you are not up on your trucks, an articulated dump truck is the type that is jointed between the cab and the bed, so it can bend in the middle.

My father, hearing the truck’s name, was confused. “Is he saying, Tickle-A-Dump Truck?” Um, well, that’s what it sounds like most of the time. And when he can enunciate well enough to say ‘Articulated’ articulately, I think I’ll sob.

I doubted that Q had really gotten the meaning behind Articulated Dump Truck’s name. We have a glamourous truck book that explains these details, but he is only three, after all. At the Haddam Neck Fair, however, he pointed to a tractor, he announced it was articulated. Skeptically, I watched the tractor for a minute, and realized he was right. The tractor was jointed in the middle.

Before I had my son, I really don’t think I would’ve realized how cool that is.

The Great Humongous Spider...

This spider photo is from last summer, but we have spotted two more of them this summer. They’re big spiders, so they really are hard to ignore once you see them.

Today J, Q and I went to take a look at the one in the hosta after returning home. We were admiring her web, very reminiscent of Charlotte’s, when a small fly blundered into it. The spider scuttled over and began to efficiently wrap it up. I squatted down and explained to Q that they spider was going to eat the fly for lunch.

“A bug sandwich.” J offered.

I elaborated, “See how she’s wrapping it up with her thread? Now she’s going to…Now she can… Spiders can…” I gave up in hysterics, trying not to explain what the spider would do without making it sound ghoulish.

“A bug sandwich.” J offered again, saving me from the corner I’d painted myself into.

Exactly.

Untitled

End of Summer photos

Growth Spurts

I love preschool. Q, who had been trying my nerves lately, is wildly happy and content in the afternoons when I get off work. It’s like he was desperate for a focus for his energy and now that he’s got it, and he can be a happy 3 year old and only a test his limits a little bit.

He’s doing great with potty training (no accidents, knock on wood, pull ups at night) and earned a compliment at preschool for his polite snacktime request for “more please”. A lot of the things we’ve been working on so hard on are coming to fruition. I’m so proud. What a good kid.

I’m noticing that an awful lot of his preschool peers also have a younger siblings lined up and waving goodbye in the morning (usually a year or less, one is due in January). I have visions of a parenting conveyor belt. We stand there all chummy, as our babies toddle in, holding each other’s hands (or their teacher’s), proud and amused at ourselves and our children. Some, like Q, don’t look back, which almost makes me cry. Others keep trying to retain eye contact as they sob, “NOOOOOO!” and their parents flinch, wishing their children were excited about a happy and busy day in preschool.

I’ve noticed lately that Q is enjoying trying out new words and phrases, although he has difficulty enunciating hard consonants in the middle of words. (“Water”, for example, often sounds like, “more” to me.) Several times in the past few days he’s stumped me by using the word, “startled” in a sentence. I had explained that N was startled by something he did, and that was why she’d burst into tears. This morning he informed us that N’s rattle was startled. (We need to work on the concept a little more.) He also heard us talking about something alarming (I now wonder what) and rephrased our comments to say, “We don’t like pants scared.”

Little sister N is so mellow it cracks me up. After nursing this morning, the house was dark and quiet. Thinking she’d drifted off, I popped her into her bassinet and got ready to shower. When I got back, she was just hanging out, looking around, gave me a huge grin. The big ones are impossible to resist. I suspect when she gets the opportunity, she’s going to be a quietly mischievous child…

We’re struggling with the sleep thing a little, but I think it’s because she’s in the room with us. (And struggling means she wakes up at 4 am, I pop her into bed with me and she wakes at 5:45 for breakfast.) I think she’d sleep better without me picking her up at the first whimpery snort of the morning. (We don’t call her ‘Snorty Girl’ for nothing.) I also suspect she’s hit a growth spurt and simply gets hungrier early.

Balancing Act

It was not promising to be a good day.

First of all, I woke up in a grumpy mood, having had my sleep interrupted for the second night in a row by the baby. I feel greedy for expecting her to sleep regularly through the night, but since she has been giving me 7 hours of sleep on a regular basis, the nights when she struggles to make it through, wakes, wails, and is easily comforted by nursing, seem, well, demanding.

Secondly, I’d had three days of Q testing me. Friday, Saturday and Sunday, J worked 11 to 7 and I was mostly alone with the kids. After three days, I wanted to hit my head against the wall to distract me from my desire to throttle Q. It was only on Sunday that we had a flashback to my mother’s theory that “when a normally pleasant child is acting like a pill, it’s often because they’re about to make some sort of a breakthrough.” Q is potty training, and while he never tells us he needs to go, unless he’s naked and making conversation as he pads off to the potty, he is actually doing quite well. Preschool starts tomorrow, and likely the stress of the two events is building on his little shoulders in ways I’m too oblivious to notice, except in terms of his behavior being so much more trying than usual.

By Monday, while I was feeling compassion for my little boy, I was starting to suspect I was going to have a nervous breakdown.

My husband, no fool, asked what would I like to do: have some time to myself, divide the kids between us, do something as a family…?

We went to the Haddam Neck Fair.

Haddam Neck is a tiny village that is part of the town of Haddam, most of which is the next town north of us. Haddam Neck, however, is within the part of Haddam on the other side of the Connecticut River. In case you’re curious, no, it does not make sense to divide a town with a river big enough for barges.

The Haddam Neck Fair is a small and lovely affair. There were some rides (we declined). There was fried food (we participated). There were many cows, some oxen (I realized my ignorance as I tried to explain oxen to my son), rabbits, chickens, goats, sheep, a camel, two donkeys, and zebus (the relation to cattle made famous by a Veggie Tales song!). We enjoyed the racing pigs (not local, I think they were up from Florida), and Q, as you can see, was in heaven when the tractor pull started up. I finally discovered what a tractor pull actually is. (The explanation illuminated the landscaping on a local property.)

All this excitement could have led to exhausted tantrums later, or a bathroom accident, or an infant meltdown. We lucked out, established our normal routine when we returned home, got Q to take a nap, and had a lovely afternoon and evening.

On the cusp of preschool, we had a magical day together.

Preschool Open House

Q seems like such a big boy and such a little boy at the same time. He loved the preschool room and didn’t want to leave. We liked his teacher quite a bit, she seems to have the same priorities we have. One of our acquaintances is an aide in the other class and sometimes will be in Q’s class, which makes me happy. Mostly just because I feel like someone knows us where we’re leaving our little boy.

Goofy Grin

N 8.19.07

Not to Forget

Qisms from this week

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As I left for my dentist appointment: “Are you going to be naked at the dentist Mommy?”

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When N was crying, he imitated her, saying, “Babies say, AAAAAH! I’m Hungry!”

J agrees, “That’s right, babies don’t have words, so they cry to let us know they’re hungry.”

Q, nodding, “Instead of whining.”

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N, after several weeks with no repeating of her laughing, chuckled Saturday night in a very subtle way, “heh heh heh.” She followed that up this morning by giggling at J when he sang along with ‘Philadelphia Chickens’ making exaggerated expressions with his face.

Wits in Shreds

Sleep is apparently irrelevant.

I discovered, mid-way through the day, that I’d put my underwear on backwards.

Later, when I was picking up the kids, I left the door of the car open by accident. (I heard it chiming, but thought I was imagining it.) When I came back to load the kids in, about twenty minutes, one meltdown and a time out later, I tried to start the car and joked that I hoped I hadn’t run down the battery.

It didn’t start.

I tried again.

Nothing.

Then I put it in park and tried to turn it on again. Like magic. Luckily my dignity has long since disappeared, so the evidence of my lacking wits was not as embarrassing as it could have been.

(And I’d like to say in my defense that I learned to drive in a stick shift car and you don’t have to be in park to turn them on.)

The Potty Diaries

Q is making serious efforts to poop in the potty this week. I attribute this to J’s motivational promise: 1 truck for the first poop in a potty, another truck for 6 successful poops following that. He’s so into the idea that he’s gone to double poop days.

Of course, he likes company, so we’ve been camped in the hallway (bathroom is too small) for 20 to 45 minutes at a time. He looks at Richard Scarry’s ‘What Do People Do All Day?’ (in which I haven’t yet seen a potty in use), and bellows:

_A GREAT BIG SQUASH JUST SAT UPON MY HAT!
A GREAT BIG SQUASH JUST SQUASHED MY HAT REAL FLAT!_

This afternoon was reward time, so I took the kids to the toy store. Q zeroed right in on the excavator he’s been lusting after. He picked it up, confirmed that I really was going to get it for him, and then went to the train table where he played for 20 minutes.

N was in a bjorn sling on my chest, facing outwards. She’s been facing inwards until recently, so she’s fairly excited by the novelty of seeing so much of the world. I paced back and forth and was looking at the baby toys when N began chatting. I looked down and she was focused hard on an object above us, and making soft inquiring noises. I turned, and her head pivoted. I turned back; she kept tracking it. She made occasional coos, chirps and barks for a while, evidently enchanted with a toy I never managed to locate.

Windows

After the initial burbles of laughter, I haven’t heard N laugh out loud. But as she gets older and more alert, I catch her smiling as if we’re in on a joke together. It’s nearly shy, she’ll grin and then quickly look away again, as if caught revealing more than she should yet. She’s plumped up now, and I never find myself thinking that her expression is troll-like. Often, however, I see that impish expression and know that she’s the same baby. Her serene sleeping face transforms her from the Maurice Sendak look into cherubic.

I am amazed at her resilience. A few weeks ago J had the kids at the park and realized that although he had formula and a bottle to feed N, he didn’t have a nipple. So, being far more imaginative than I, he decided to see if she could drink from a sippy cup.

No problem.

It would never have occurred to me.

Q snuggles close up to her, ‘I’m going to nuzzle N!’ he declares, right next to her face. She looks away if he gets too close too long, but she doesn’t cry . He’s very helpful, running over to pop her pacifier in her mouth, helping J give her a bottle, announcing that she wants to nurse, she wants her formula, that she smiled at him! ‘Is that our Nuala?’ ‘Is she cooing?’ ‘I’m going to check on my baby sister.’ I think he likes having company in the back seat.

Two points

On the sleep front: the baby slept 9 hours last night. The last few, tucked next to me, but what do I care? I didn’t have to get up or wake fully.

On the obvious conclusion front: if you put on your sweat and milk stained pjs and the aroma makes you think “aw, baby!” It is time to bathe the baby and wash your pjs.

Baby's Week In Review

N had her 2 month check up on Friday. I’m always a little confused as to how to count months with babies. Am I supposed to count by the day of the month (thus from May 13 to July 13 is 2 months) or by 4 weeks equals a month? In any case, she’s up to 9 lbs 5 oz, a gain of more than 3 lbs in two months. She’s still in the 10%, where she was at birth, which is perfectly healthy. 25% for length (I have no idea what her percentile for length at birth was) and 75% for head circumference. Thanks to Daddy’s gene for that!

What I found amazing at this visit was something I witnessed in our stay at the hospital. She had to get 3 shots. The nurse asked if I was nursing her, and I said yes. Would I like to nurse her through getting the shot? This often calms the babies faster and eases the discomfort or pain. In fact, I recall doing this with Q’s shots his first year.

“I’m not opposed to it, but she’s done.”

The nurse looked a little confused. “I nursed her just before her physical, and well, she’d done now.” Q nursed at any suggestion of the opportunity till he was 4 months or so. N nurses 20, maybe 30 minutes, and then she’s done. Trying to get her to nurse when she’s not hungry is inviting her to yell at me.

The nurse looks at me like I’m a little loopy, but we set the baby on the table (which makes it easier to give the shot than if I bobbling the baby around in my arms). Three shots take forever to give when you’re watching a baby scream her toothless little heart out. But it does eventually get done.

I pick her up and she stops crying. After the shots were given, she simply calms down and stops crying. In the hospital I witnessed this after they took practically a pint of blood. Once they stopped messing with her, she simply went back to sleep.

Unreasonably good natured of her.

They had me do a postpartum depression questionnaire. One of the final questions, “I feel I neglect my baby: (select one) All the time, Sometimes, Not often, Never”. No hesitation on my part. I picked ‘Sometimes’. I don’t think it is possible to juggle two small children and never feel like sometimes you have to neglect one kid to take care of another. You know it will have to happen before the second one arrives, but you don’t necessarily realize how heart-wrenching it can be to tear yourself from one child who needs you to take care of the another.

She also asked if N reacts to sudden noises. Speaking of neglect… I hadn’t noticed. I think I would notice if she didn’t…?

So yesterday I took the kids to the Deep River Ancient Muster in the next town over from us. I accidently got there early, which turned out well since Q got to play at the playground, we bought some fries, and sat right at the ending point for the parade of drum and fife corps. This is a seriously noisy event with a variety of drum sizes, passing sometimes close to a foot from where we were seated. Not to mention the guns being fired off.

N was in her stroller, blissfully sleeping through it all. I finally thought to look at her just before a gun went off. Yep, she flinched in her sleep. Guess her hearing is ok.

I’m really enjoying my time with N. We still tend to forget her when she’s sleeping or happily installed in her bouncy seat and we’re trying to get something done (dinner, potty training, showering, packing the car). But she stays awake longer, giving us a chance to see big goofy grins and silent laughter. The past two days I took her with me on my run, packing her into the jogger with blankets so she wouldn’t slide around. Each time she gazed with peaceful amazement at the world till it was too much to comprehend, then slid into companionable sleep.

Sibling Rivalry

Q has been more obviously jealous of N lately. I don’t see much deliberately unkind behavior, just distinctly wanting to be on my lap when I’m nursing the baby, pulling the pacifier out of her mouth (actually, that might just be for the fun of popping it back in), demanding that Mommy carry him when I’m already carrying N. I’m being patient with him, trying to accomodate most of his reasonable requests when possible. But I’m wavering between feeling sympathy for his jealousy and a growing suspicion that he’s manipulating my feelings of guilt.

This afternoon, N was in an active awake state, interested in her surroundings, moving her limbs in swimmy movements as she checked out the world. It was time to start Quiet Time, so I brought the kids upstairs and set N down on the bed while I got ready to change Q’s diaper (no, no progress on potty training lately). Q hopped up on the bed and did his usual eye to eye with N, one inch from her nose. He turned a bit away, to tell me something, and she cooed up at him.

She hasn’t cooed at me yet. Around me, yes. While in my arms, yes. Mostly at random pieces of furniture.

But that’s ok. He can be first.

Turnabout

I had a hellish night last night with N. I suspect now (with the benefit of sleep) that she had no interest in nursing, she just didn’t want to sleep in the bouncy seat next to the bed where we’ve nestled her most nights. But at 3am I was in tears with the desire to buy some Nyquil, find a motel room, and sleep for three days.

J was working this afternoon, so I decided I better wear out Q. We took out his trike and chat about triking to the playground at the school next door. Ten feet from our driveway, he stops and tells me, “I’m done.” Um, what? He tells me he wants to just go for a drive. I still want to wear him out. So he and I negotiate and agree to go to the Essex playground, a lovely shady playground with better equipment.

We get there, he plays lacksadaisically for 5 minutes, tops, then says, “Are we done?” I tried to engage him in playing, but he wasn’t having any of it. Laughing (I mean, can you force a toddler to play?), I drove home. I took a long route home. As we got onto familiar roads, Q says quietly, “Don’t go home.” So I give up and drive a little around town. He finally agreed that we should go home, watch ‘In the Night Kitchen’ and then do a quiet time.

Quiet time was three blissful hours of sleep. Afterwards we ate and tried triking to the playground next door again. As we turn onto the school road, he looks up and points out the crescent moon. “That moon is a watermelon.”

I have no idea where that idea came from.

Baby Firsts

N had a first today:

First Time Pooping Around Diaper Onto Mommy’s Shirt While at the Library with no Spare Clothes.

Which reminds me that I need to get a Baby Journal.

Birthday Manners

Presents

Our daughter, not quite 5 weeks of age, slept from 10:30pm till 5am last night. This was after nursing, then being tanked with an additional 3oz of formula, something I would have found reprehensible with my first child. Waking at 5, she nursed, inspected the headboard for approximately 20 minutes, and finding nothing amiss, went back to sleep about 6am.

An hour later, I realized that the slow progression of gradually louder noises had reached the white noise machine next to my bed: the selection bumped from ‘ocean’ to ‘womb’, a sound J describes as “I’m coming to get you! ...Very very slowly, but I’m coming to get you!” It’s nice to know where your preschooler is playing.

Then, abruptly, our dozing was interrupted by a car alarm. We live in one of the safest towns in Connecticut (despite the multiple bank robberies). No one should be setting a car alarm in this town. I was grumpily thinking this when my husband reached over me, grabbed my keys from Q, and turned off the ‘panic’ alarm that he’d just set off on J’s car.

J then looked at the clock and realized that Q had set off the alarm at 7:20am, the exact time of his birth, 3 years earlier.

Happy Birthday, kid. Thanks for reminding us of how lucky we are to have you enter our lives.

Memory

This morning I snuck out of the house for a quick run after nursing the baby, managing to not wake up Q on my way out. When I returned home, I could hear him whining an early morning whine.

I went upstairs and opened his door to make sure I was hearing him right. “I want my balloon!”

His balloon was lost over a week ago. I sat down in his rocker and laughed at him. He couldn’t help himself and grinned back.

Three Moments

Since N’s arrival, one of our sweetest big brother gestures(primarily Q just doesn’t pay that much attention to N) comes from Q stroking his face with N’s hair and announcing that he’s nuzzling N. Very gentle and tender.

Q is in a mildly perverse stage at the moment. Anything you say, eg: “It’s time for dinner,” is met with a contradicting declaration from Q, “It’s not time for dinner.” Sometimes in his own favor, but just as often he’s claiming something he doesn’t want. We’ve taken to using reverse psychology with this (he knows and finds it funny) and telling him to do things by telling him not to do things. Our favorite is, “Q is not going to kiss Mommy.” He begins to grin and says, “I’m going to kiss Mommy.” He kisses my knee and we act horrified and he giggles hysterically and announces he’s going to kiss someone else. (Even N!) Really, he’s in an endearing age.

Which brings me to last night. Sleep schedules are screwed up here. Due to heat, new baby, thunderstorms, you name it. Q woke from a nap at 7:30 last night and we let him sit with us in the den to eat his dinner, all four of us packed onto the couch, watching the Red Sox play the Yankees. So N is in my arms, successfully nursing on the side she tried to rip off recently, and Q gently leans his cheek into her hair once in a while, and I found myself looking down at these two beautiful children and tearing up. These are the moments you hope you can remember forever.