Who let the dogs out?

No one, that's who. These dogs are eight years old and we STILL have to confine them to David's office when we're out. Why? They like to chew. Gable (he's the one with the "My, what big ears you have" look) has decided he likes to go in my room and pluck clean diapers out of the basket and shred them like confetti all over the house. So he can't be trusted.





Garbo is the type of dog who, if we'd let her (or if we don't notice), will sit under the table with her head in one of the kid's laps while they eat, hoping they'll drop something. She's usually rewarded. Barring the availability of real food, she'll just gnaw on whatever else she can find.

Sometimes we lock them in the garage. That's when they take advantage of every toy they can find (and if you saw my garage, it's not like they're finding a needle in a haystack). Their favorite substance is plastic. Nice, chewy plastic.

So it really shouldn't have surprised me at all that they have barfed every day this week in David's office. At least, every day since Tuesday, which is the day he left for the week for "business" in Hawaii.

That left me to deal with barf, which is not my favorite bodily fluid, let's just say. Shockingly, I found pieces of bright blue chewed up plastic in the vomit. At first they (not sure which one, but I do know BOTH have been throwing up) hit the floor and not the white berber carpet. But hey, they have to stay in there while I take the kids to school, to dance, to the park, to the mall, etc. It was just a matter of time before they left their mark on the carpet.

The good news is David gets to steam clean it once he gets back (he's coming home tonite, but I'll give him a bye until tomorrow). I mean, there has to be SOME unpleasantness when you've just spent four days in Oahu.

Seriously, I know he was working. But I'd even take the six hours of uninterrupted time on the flight over at this point.

Lucky dog. David that is. The other two? Maybe a little milk of magnesia is in order.

Night Owl

No. He's not sleeping through the night yet, though thanks for asking. If he were sleeping through the night, do you really think I'd have bowling balls beneath my eyes? Do you think my hair would be in a perpetual ponytail? Would I REALLY be this cranky? (okay, maybe that'd be a yes to #2 and #3, but whatevs.)

Yes, my first two kids were sleeping all night by this point. Sawyer was the best. I think by seven or eight weeks he was going 10 or 11 consecutive hours. Sage wanted to get up once a night, around 3 a.m., for a bottle. We shut her down at six months. The first night she cried for an hour and a half, and all I could think was "What child cries for that long?" The answer is MY child, and she continues to show her dramatic "flair" at age 4. Anyway, the second night she cried for about 30 minutes, and that was it.

Xander will be eight months old next week. And he still likes a nocturnal visit or two. Part of the issue is that his crib is in our room. So it's tough to let him cry it out when he's two feet away from me. I mean, he KNOWS I'm there. We had to drop the mattress down to its lowest position because I could see his little face peering at me from over the crib rail.

He is also the first child I have nursed this long. I wonder if he's actually hungry when he wakes up, and since he had that scary month where he gained just three ounces, I figure I'd better feed him if he's asking.

I don't want to move him into Sawyer's room yet for two reasons: 1) he'd wake Sawyer up with his yelling and 2) Sawyer would wake HIM up when he went to bed later.

Some have suggested moving Sage into Sawyer's room so Xander could have a room to himself in which to cry it out. But I don't want to even ponder Sage's reaction to that suggestion. Plus, her stuff is, you know, pink. Which is fine with me. As the only girl, I want her to have her own girly place, where she can have all her dress-up stuff and her play kitchen and her dolls (I should mention that our bedrooms are the size of cereal boxes, so there's no space for all that in Sawyer's room).

There's also the issue of the two of them staying up for hours, alternately giggling together and slapping each other silly. Then NO ONE will sleep.

I keep waiting for Xander to figure it out on his own. I suppose I should admit that a little part of me is just melty for my last child. Maybe I don't mind so much our little late-night snuggle. Pretty soon he'll be done and we won't have this kind of closeness. Which is fine, you know, part of growing up and all.

But for now, if he needs a mommy fix at 2 a.m., well, I guess I'm an enabler.

Those eyes

You mommies know what I'm talking about. It happens when your child really, really, really wants something. And not, for instance, when they're begging for McDonald's when you've just slaved over a nice dinner of salmon, brown rice and broccoli for him. Altho, actually, my son would love that dinner. My daughter, on the other hand...

This is the one where it's going to cost you a nice chunk of change. And you're not sure it's exactly what you had in mind. But your kid is giving you The Eyes. It's now up to you.

This happened to us yesterday. Sawyer complained that his sneakers were too small. I took that seriously because I am one of those moms who brings their children to get shoes, only to find out when their feet are measured that their current shoes are two sizes to small.

I also noticed his shoes had absolutely no tread on them and were ripped. Shocking, because they're Geox, and Sawyer usually outgrows them before he outwears them.

All the way to Nordstrom he talked about getting light up shoes. For some reason, light up shoes make me nuts. I don't know why. I'm not a person who has a seizure from spinning lights or anything. I think it's because it just makes our choices so much more narrow. In fact, when I bought him his last pair of shoes, he was VERY upset they didn't light up and did not care that I found them for a steal at Nordstrom Rack.

I told him they were Star Wars shoes because they were kind of a bronze, silver and black, which are clearly Star Wars Colors! Yeah. They were also too big on him, and in the interim, we had to go to the Stride Rite store at the outlet mall to find him light up shoes in his size. And wouldn't you know, a few days later, one of the shoes stopped lighting up. He was completely unmoved and he wore those things to death.

So in the car, I warned him that they don't make light up shoes in his size, that it's really for little kids, etc., and he was all "I don't care. I want light up shoes."

And wouldn't you know, the second we got to the shoe department he'd already found a pair of light up Sketchers. I steered him toward the Geox, saying that I didn't think they had light ups, but they had some cool colors...and the freakin' salesguy was all "Oh no, we have light up Geox RIGHT HERE!"

DOH!

It appears his foot has grown about a half-size. At the rate he's going, Sage is going to pass him pretty soon, as she seems to be blessed with my size Ginormous feet.

But the next size up were too big, and he ended up fitting into the same size as his old shoes - except for some reason this particular pair of shoes are made bigger (Geox didn't make the half-size).

So now it was decision time. These shoes are, shall we say, not cheap. And he definitely needed new ones.

The thing is it makes you feel so powerful. You know that their entire life (okay, that's what THEY think, when really it's just their MOOD) depends on whether you utter a simple Yes or No.

It's that intent gaze and little hopeful smile as they wait as patiently as humanly possible for a kid below the age of 6 while you make up your mind.

There he was, all big eyes and half-smile, imploring me to let him have these black light up sneakers.

Please.

Who was I too squash him? So yes. Yes yes yes.

Celebration ensued. And hugs. And plenty of "I love you Mommy!"

That makes it all worth it, doesn't it?

The Tao of Pear

My girlfriend Ciaran's baby is almost exactly a year older than Xander. This means I am the lucky recipient of all the stuff she wants the heck out of her house.

One of these things is her Beaba Babycook. It's a gadget that steams and purees food in the same container. It is SO easy. Even for those of us who might be considered culinarily challenged. You seriously can't mess it up.

I decided to try it. With Xander's digestive sensitivities, it seemed like a good idea to control exactly what was going into his food.

Turns out, I actually find making his food to be very relaxing. And satisfying too. Maybe it's the peeling of the apples and garnet yams or whatever, or maybe it's the chop-chop-chop with a nice sharp knife.

I even dig the pureeing part, whirring the blades til the consistency is just so.

The best part is, of course, watching Xander enjoy the food that I made. It's as satisfying as when I've made something new for dinner that has, like, sauce or something on it and my kids actually eat it - even Sage! So when he only takes a few bites because he's too distracted by, say, trying to shove a toy in his face instead of the spoon, it's frustrating. I'm all "But you liked it yesterday! Why won't you eat it today???" Maybe he's practicing so he'll be ready for his Terrible Twos.

Yes, there have been times when I am aware that it would be more convenient to go the jarred food route. And I still might pick up a few to have on hand, just in case.

But not today. Not when there are three containers of sweet potatoes and one of apples waiting in the refrigerator.

Just for my boy. Home-made. Just like him.

Outward Bound

I really wanted to go. REALLY wanted to go.

But David was sure the baby would be a disaster. Maybe it'd be better if I just stayed home. Again. That sounded like it was probably the smart thing to do. Especially since Daylight Savings. X's schedule was all kinds of messed up.

The trip was short: a train ride to San Diego, a visit to the USS Midway, and the train back home. Our neighbors were going and the kids were SO excited to be going on an outing with their friends.

I didn't want to miss seeing them have a good time. And, frankly, I'm stir-crazy. I can't remember the last time I went anywhere. Especially somewhere, you know, fun.

Still, I have a cold. Maybe it'd be nice to have a couple hours to myself (while X napped). It'd be quiet. Too quiet.

When I woke up this morning (at 5 a.m., thanks to the little face peering at me from over the crib rail), I decided to go. I mean, X is actually a pretty good baby. Positive thinking, right?

The train ride was a thrill, as you can see...



And why not? Check out the view!



The day was absolutely gorgeous. Blue skies, temps in the mid-70s, and because most kids were in school (our district was off) the Midway (a retired air craft carrier) wasn't crowded at all.

David and I switched off holding the baby. I got to go up to the bridge with Sawyer and Sage. If you look carefully, you can make out a man standing next to a stroller on the flight deck.

Here are Sawyer and Sage sitting in the Captain's chair. Now that's a scary thought..



And here is Xander, showing Daddy that he actually IS a great baby and not a hot mess. Really, he only got fussy when he was hungry or tired (so? I do too!), but he did take a few short naps and hung with 'em like a champ.



Then it was time to get back on the train, in which, incidentally, our group got our own car. The kids (there were seven from our hood) treated it as a fort, flying their new toy jets and running all over, until a homeless guy peed in the next car and everyone moved into ours.

At any rate, on the walk back to the train, Sawyer complained that his "foot hurt" and he couldn't possibly take one more step. As a guy commented as we walked by, "Dude, you look like a opossum."

You know, it was a fun, exhausting day. Makes me think maybe I should get out more often.

Thirty posts in thirty days?

I guess this counts as #1. As you might have noticed, I've fallen waaay behind on updating my blog. Maybe it's because I have absolutely nothing interesting to say. Either that, or my energy level only lasts long enough for me to update my status on facebook.

Either way, I need motivation. I will now attempt to blog every day for a month. You will be all "Shut up already!" by mid-month, I'm sure. But apparently I can win a PRIZE! if I can actually do this.

I can't promise prose, but I'll try my best to make it at least slightly entertaining. Thanks in advance for all your support!

Seven Months

 

Slow down, dude! You're just past seven months and I have to say you've really left your infancy in the dust.

What happened to my floppy little guy? GONE! You learned to sit on your own. And you're pretty damn proud of it.

 
 

But were you sastisfied by that? No, of course not. You had to continue beating the milestones of your older siblings by crawling earlier than either on of them.

Third child syndrome, I suppose. What's funny is you crawl like your older brother did: two hands, one knee and one foot. This funky motion does not, however, impede you from going where you want to go (I caught you chewing on your sister's soccer ball by the back door today) and I do believe you're picking up speed.

Sawyer and Sage are starting to get why I've been harping on them more than usual to pick up their stuff.

And because you are such a Big Boy, you get to do thrilling things like go for a wagon ride with your sister.

 

 


 

This past month, though, hasn't been entirely full of highlights. You popped four teeth all at once on top, and you weren't afraid to use them. After one particularly painful bite on the shoulder, I yelled "OUCH! THAT HURT! NO BITING!" Your face crumpled. You started to cry. I felt terrible. But you know what? You haven't tested your chompers since.

We started solids right after you turned six months. Something (rice cereal?)didn't sit so well with you. We tried sweet potato, which you seemed okay with, and carrots, which you didn't like. Then we went to avocado, a favorite of both your siblings. Sawyer used to eat an entire avocado at one sitting when he was a baby. We were trying to put some fat on him - just like we're trying to do with you.

You didn't seem to like it all that much. And now we know why: you were up four times that night, and when morning came, I saw why: you were covered in a bright red rash. It was awful, and prompted a trip to the pediatric dermatologist to get you some relief in the form of prescription lotions and potions (you can see the rash on his face in this picture, but it's still adorable).

 

The diagnosis? Eczema. Just like Sawyer, who has scars on his neck from scratching when he was about a year old. We are hoping you'll outgrow this, just like he did. But it makes finding you stuff to eat that won't bug you a little challenging.

Right now you LOVE pears. You also tried apple and banana. I might reintroduce sweet potato to see if that was also causing you issues.

We REALLY want you to eat more. You only put on three ounces this past month, which would be an appropriate weight gain - for a WEEK. The doctor is not concerned. She says it common with breastfed babies (yes, I'm still nursing!). But at this rate, you won't hit 18 pounds until you're a year. Of course I'm feeling guilty, wondering if maybe my breastmilk isn't good enough, especially because I'm still on the no dairy/soy/wheat diet.

Thing is, you look good. You're happy. Active. And you've got some nice chub on your thighs. Maybe those clearly dominant Asian genes are affecting your stature as well as your looks. I've never before loved a short man, but I will make an exception for you.

 
(Photo by Robin Gray Photography)

We are looking forward to seeing what you do next. Your sister walked at 9 1/2 months. No worries if you want to let her keep that record.

I'd like to keep you close just a little while longer.

 

(Photo by Robin Gray Photography)

First step

 

Exactly seven months and one day since giving birth, I finally got out there and ran. So if you felt your house shaking, it wasn't an earthquake, just my slow, plodding feet pounding the pavement.

It hurt. Oh yes. Things still aren't entirely back where they're supposed to be. But I still managed to go on my three-mile loop, which includes a couple gnarly hills.

I listenened to my music on my iPod shuffle as I ran. There's something about Gavin Rossdale telling me to "breathe in, breathe out" that just gets me going (bonus points if you know what song that is).

It's comforting hearing all the songs I have on there. I guess it reminded me of the gazillion times I've put those headphones in and turned on the music to help me pass the miles and miles on my long runs when I didn't have my running partners - or when they went ahead or fell back.

The best part of today's run - when at times I'm sure I could've walked the hills faster - was when my body actually cooperated. Everything was in synch. My legs moved, my heart pumped and my mind drifted.

And I remembered why I run.

I've missed it.

Now I'm not saying I'm anywhere near marathon shape (although I wore my shirt from my last one as motivation). Or even 5K shape for that matter.

But the first step is always the toughest. I'm glad I finally took it.

What were you?

 

Sawyer's kindergarten teacher sent home a list of ideas to go over with your child for the month of October. There's not enough paper to actually print up homework sheets (thanks to the budget cuts) so I guess this is a stand-in.

There are actually some cute things on there. And the one that stood out the most was this:

"Ask an adult in your family what their favorite Halloween costume was as a child, and draw a picture of it."

Yes! I love Halloween! It's my absolute favorite holiday! The people give you candy! For free! What could be better? I'd spend weeks - months! - planning my costume.

So, my favorite one was.. uh...um....

Yeah. I could only come up with a single costume. From fourth grade.

Now in those days, way back when we had to walk to school uphill in the snow - both ways - costumes were usually home-made. Because just one time wearing a cheap scratchy plastic mask with the skinny gray elastic digging into the back of your head was really enough.

The costume I remember was made by my sister. I woke up the morning of the school's costume parade (yes, clearly this was a LONG time ago when they actually allowed stuff like this) and asked my sister if she'd finished making it.

She looked at me like I was nuts. Seems she'd woken me up the night before to show me it. Really? I had no idea.

But I was SO excited. I was going to be Mother Nature. I wore a flowing white sheet for my dress. She'd attached paper flowers to these fake gold necklaces, and made a flowered head band.

I also carried a sign that read "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature."

I didn't win the costume contest. I was robbed. Clearly.

The only other costume that stands out was my brother's one year. He was a scarecrow, and wore a broomstick under a big shirt. Problem was, he couldn't fit on anyone's front stoop. So I had to collect all his candy while gesturing back to him as he waited by the street. Just in case they thought I was taking it all for myself. Which is totally something I would do.

The worst was when Mom made you wear a coat - OVER YOUR COSTUME!! That was the only downside of Halloween in Connecticut, where I grew up. Otherwise, the leaves were crisp, the pumpkins didn't rot in the heat, and the atmosphere was perfect.

We carried pillow cases to put our candy in. This was so we could get MORE than if we just used a regular old bag. Then we'd get home and pour it all on the floor and trade.

And then we'd stuff our faces.

I guess when I look back, it was the excitement in the air, the great times we had - a whole bunch of us riding in the back of a pickup truck while the driver tried to run over every curbside leaf piles, could you even IMAGINE letting your kids do that now? - that I really remember.

I hope that my little skeleton, ballerina witch and pumpkin will also look back on their childhoods and remember the fun, if not the fabric.

How about you? What was YOUR favorite costume or Halloween memory?

This is Four

 

When you turn four, you need a princess party. You really do. You need to dress up like Ariel and get your face painted. You need to play princess games with your friends. And dance.

 

 

At one point during the party, you must pout. Because it's your party. You can pout if you want to. And heaven forbid we can actually get a nice picture together.

 

But you quickly regroup. Because the absolutely most important thing is that you have a pink cake. A VERY pink cake.

 

What's a party without eating a pink cupcake?

 

Now a few days before your princess party was your real birthday. And you absolutely had to get your nails done.

 

You are a girly-girl. Except when you're not, and you're pushing your big brother around and playing Bakugan and wielding a light saber with all the boys up the street.

Three was a fun year. For you, anyway. You went to school. You did really well for the first month or so. But then you cried every day because you "missed Daddy." Then, after the winter break, you missed the first month back because you were sick. You scared us with unexplained fevers that jumped to about 105.

Then you got better. You went back to school. And you didn't cry at all. You met a friend, Genevieve. The teacher, who'd said that you were having a tough time making friends because, frankly, most of the kids were more immature, was happy to see you come out of your shell.

You participated in circle time. You iniated play. You did talk about Sawyer a LOT, and the other kids weren't so interested. But by the end, the teacher described you as having leadership qualities if you ever actually wanted to use them. She had no concerns for you at all academically.

You are on your way.

The thing is you get angry. So angry that you throw screaming fits whenever - and wherever, including naked on the pool deck - you want. Truly a force of nature, I am excited for the day you will harness your passion for good and not evil.

You love your little brother. You are a clown for him. Unless you're grumpy. He cries when you do.

Sometimes I look at you and I can clearly see you at 16. We are beyond in trouble. I just hope you will still speak to me.

Right before your birthday, I said I was sad that you wouldn't be 3 anymore.

"But Mommy," you said. "I have to grow!"

Yes. Yes you do. But could you please, please, PLEASE do your mom a favor and just slow down?

 

(photo by Robin Gray Photography)

Kindergarten already?

Let me start by saying I apologize, internets, for being so neglectful of this blog. My head has been so full, so stuffed with stuff, I was afraid to even let a little bit out for fear of a giant deluge of brain matter. Or heart matter, as the case may be.

So much has happened. Not the least of which is...I am the mother of a kindergartner.

It was a beautiful day. Sawyer was SO excited to go to school. The big school. Not the portable in the school's parking lot that he went to last year for pre-K. This was the real deal.

He of course was blissfully unaware of the drama of the past two days. We had received a letter early in the summer informing us Sawyer would be in afternoon kindergarten - and oh, by the way, they were changing the times of the school.

Right. So he was to start at 12:05. Sage's preschool lets out at noon.

I was totally stressed out by this. I also had been told the peanut-free class was in the morning. But of course, the letter also said that the school office would be closed until late August, leaving me a couple months to stew. I sent an email to the principal, and he finally answered, saying the peanut-free was in the afternoon.

So I'm thinking, okay, well, there's nothing I can do, as Sawyer HAS to be in a peanut-free class. I resigned myself to afternoon kindergarten, and the idea that I would not have a minute of the day all year where I would have just one child (yes, that's you, Xander).

Then two days before school started, I went in to hand in Sawyer's vaccination updates and his paperwork to allow the use of an epi-pen and benadryl in case he had a reaction. Because when you have a child with a potentially life-threatening allergy, you are always worried whether they will come home. I met the school nurse (who is WONDERFUL) and felt comfortable that every precaution would be taken to ensure Sawyer would be safe. I also learned there WAS a peanut-free class in the morning, but we, by unlucky draw, did not get in it.

Which led me to speak to the assistant principal (not overly helpful) and to leave a message with the principal. He called me later in the day, we had a lovely chat, in which he told me he'd put me on the "waiting list" for the morning K. Whatevs.

So imagine my surprise when first thing the next morning - the day before school - he calls to tell me Sawyer has been moved to the morning session.

The other drama? David was supposed to be at a convention in Tahoe and was going to miss Sawyer's first day. I was sad, but again, resigned that he would not be there. But again, last minute, he got out of going.

Our little party of five departed Thursday morning for his first day. First, Sawyer posed with his new snack bag (Bakugan, what a shocker).
 

We are lucky that we live very close to the school. We started down the sidewalk.

 

And less than 10 minutes later, we were at the school. The kindergarten classes wait outside their rooms, on their playground. It was like being at Disneyland, without the rides. Tons of kids, tons of parents.

Sawyer looked a little unsure.
 

But who wouldn't be? Luckily he ran into some of his friends from last year, including a couple in his class. Of 34 kids. And 19 boys.
 

Then the door opened, the teacher appeared, and I realized that the parents were being dismissed. I had some vision of us going into the classroom with him, but we clearly weren't welcome.

With a quick picture

 

and a wave

 

He was gone. The door closed. It happened so fast I didn't even have time to get teary. And neither did he.

Not a bad start to the year.

You can run...

 

Today before school I decided to put a ponytail holder in the top of Sage's hair because she wanted to wear her new bow, and I figured it would hold the hair up better.

But Sage was not down with the plan.

"No, Mommy! I don't want people to say I'm crazy!"

"What? What are you talking about? What do people always say to you?"

"That I'm beautiful."

"Okay then."

I proceeded to put the elastic in her hair and then pulled it back so I could stick the bow in.

"Oh! Are you trying to hide the crazy, Mommy?"

Sorry, sister. There's NO hiding the crazy. It's genetics.