A Baby: My Most Adorable Fashion Accessory

I'm into holding my babies and they're pretty into being held. When Caleb was a baby, I "wore" him in the Moby wrap (Absolutely recommend it to all you mamas out there. Although a structured carrier is my preference once baby is about 20 lbs. or so). It certainly made things more convenient but it wasn't something I had to do. Then 17.5 months later came Gideon. At that point, it was a necessity. To care for two babies, the little guy had to be worn. Now that I have three kiddos, if the littlest didn't get worn, nothing would get done. So, yay for babywearing but that's not really the point of this post. I wanted to record some of the things I do while babywearing in order to look back on this season of my life and remember what it was like; so without further ado...

There are some of the expected things that I wouldn't have given a second thought prior to having children:
-wearing a baby while taking a walk
-wearing a baby while grocery shopping
-wearing a baby while setting the table/putting out food
-wearing a baby while vacuuming (this one is actually great for getting itty bitties to sleep)
-wearing a baby while blow-drying my hair

(sidenote: I recently saw a man on an HGTV show wearing a baby while hitting tennis balls...definitely NOT something I would recommend doing)

Then there are some other times I wouldn't have anticipated being two-headed:
-wearing a baby while pregnant
-wearing a baby while sleeping (I can guarantee that baby will not roll off the bed when wrapped to your body)
-brushing my teeth while wearing a baby (it takes some maneuvering to spit with a child strapped to your body and not spit on the child)
-eating while wearing a baby (all the crumbs that wind up in the baby's hair, poor thing)
-bathing other children while wearing a baby
-rocking another child while wearing a baby
-wiping another child's bottom while wearing a baby
-carrying another child while wearing a baby
-cooking/baking while wearing a child (I just have to remain very aware of how close baby is coming to the stove, make sure there's no splattering of grease, etc)

And the doozy?
-wearing a baby while using the bathroom...sigh; when nature calls and baby's finally sleeping peacefully, one goes to extremes she never dreamed of

I had a Baby...Again

Back in September, the tenth of the month to be exact, I gave birth to a sweet little red-haired baby. Her name is Eden and she's now quickly approaching the five month mark. I've been putting off writing her introduction because I wanted to include her whole birth story (check out Caleb's birth story here and Gideon's here) but I've finally accepted the realization that writing her birth story isn't going to happen right now. It will eventually, just not right now. The short version goes like this...

-I started having contractions around 4am or so
-I called the midwife around 5:30ish
-I called my parents (who live 2 hours away) to come hang out with the boys
-I waited a few hours for midwife to arrive at my home
-birth assistant and midwife arrived; parents arrived shortly thereafter
-I labored throughout the day, urging baby girl to come quickly
-I labored some more
-I paced around my bedroom, I made some jokes, I complained that things were taking too long, I willed baby girl to come sooner rather than later
-I leaned on Matt (that's how he knew I was getting close)
-I pushed some
-I changed positions
-I whined
-I pushed some more (this time with a primal grunt/yell)
-Out came baby girl's head
-I said the following ridiculous thing as I looked down to see baby's head out (remainder of body still inside me) "Why is she not crying??!!" to which the midwife calmly replied, "Your baby hasn't been born yet." (I give myself a bit of a break here since my other two effortlessly slid out after I cleared the head.)
-I pushed out the rest of my little girl, she cried (1:37pm)
-I snuggled her up and delivered the placenta
-I climbed into my bed
-I got some minor stitches while nursing my baby
-I showered
-I ate a samich

That's about how it went, missing some details here and there of course. Come to think of it, maybe this does suffice as a birth story. I'll have to ponder that.

Anyway, she weighed in at 7 pounds 15ounces; my heaviest baby yet. She was 21.25 inches long; my tallest newborn as well. Here she is:

Eden, soon after birth

Eden being weighed


Obligatory new baby pictures follow:

Mommy and Eden

Daddy and Eden

Brothers loving on their new baby sister

Caleb Turned 4 (in August) then Started Pre-K and I'm Late Posting about It

Here it is January of 2014 and I have several posts that I've yet to get to...just little things like my baby boy turning 4 as in almost 5 as in almost elementary school age as in I might die if this child continues to grow so darn fast!!! He also started Pre-K and then around the same time, I had a baby. You know, little things like that. I'm so behind on blogging but I'm going to try to get back into it. Those are famous last words though. I've said this before and  here I am 10 months after my last post.

Anyway, Caleb turned 4 years old!!!! How did I become the mom of a 4-year-old? And how did I become old enough to be the mom of a 4-year-old? Enough about me though.

Caleb's stats from back in August (he's significantly larger now and has recently gone up a size in clothing):
-42 inches tall
-42 pounds

He's a big kid! On top of being big, he's super-smart and super-curious and can certainly be super-challenging at times. He loves all things Star Wars even though he has never seen the movies and he's enthralled by Angry Birds. He has listened intently to Matt tell him the plot of Star Wars and he has memorized characters and storylines. He's persistent, stubborn, loving, and sensitive. He's astute and reflective.

one week

one year

two  years

3 years

4 years

He started Pre-K in September and he has really been loving it. He goes only 3 days a week (3 hours each of those days) but he is exhausted by the end of those 3 hours, generally falling asleep in the car on the 12 minute ride home. He has made his first "best friend" and he's so cute when he talks about how they play during their time together at school. 

Daddy's Gone Potty Fishin'

Last week on a morning quite like many others, the monotony was broken by a distraught sounding Caleb shout-crying from the bathroom. I knew immediately that something dreadful had happened and I assumed correctly; Caleb had dropped a toy into the toilet.

What made this so much worse than it sounds at first is that Caleb was utilizing said toilet at that minute. I walked into the bathroom to discover Caleb sitting on the toilet, peering between his legs with despair. I approached the toilet, my nose already telling me what I'd find. Yes indeed, fear confirmed. Not only was there a small plastic vehicle in the toilet with bodily waste, it was in the toilet with solid bodily waste. And it wasn't the firm, contained, log-version, it was more of the flaky, floating type.

At that instant, my pregnant, sometimes-still-nauseous self did what any mother would do..."Matt, I need you  up here!" I heard his swift footsteps as he ascended the stairs and then he appeared; my knight, my love! Matt entered the bathroom, assessed the situation, and attempted to convince Caleb to go ahead and finish using the potty, Caleb refused. Through whimpers he said, "But Daddy, I don't want to poop on it."

That's when Matt sprang into action. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and plunged his hand into the abyss. Seconds later, he had toy in hand. Caleb was simultaneously relieved and happy, I was simultaneously in awe and disgusted. Matt took the small plastic bulldozer, washed it off with soap and water then wiped it clean with a disinfecting wipe. He dried it and returned it to a very grateful Caleb.

After Matt scrubbed his hands well, I rewarded him with a hug and a kiss and hearty "thank-you." He's my hero! If someone had told me pre-children that watching my husband knuckle-deep in a poop-filled toilet would somehow grow the love and respect I have for him, I would have laughed. But seeing him withstand something undesirable to comfort his son? Pretty awesome!

Gideon Turned Two Back in January

I'm clearly way behind with this but our little guy turned two years old on January 12th. The year was filled with milestones but here are several that particularly stick out:

-started walking confidently
-started speaking in full sentences (my favorite being "I luff loo," his version of "I love you")
-jumps well, getting both feet off the ground simultaneously
-has become very aware of his desires and perceived injustices
-potty-trained

His physical statistics put him at 27 pounds and 35.5 inches tall.

Gideon is a sensitive child; requiring a lot of physical contact and verbal reassurances. Interestingly though, he's pretty fearless. He's unafraid of the big, twisty slide at the park and he isn't frightened to do things like jump off the couch. However, if/when he falls, he's not a "pick yourself up and dust yourself off" type of kid (Caleb fits into that category). Instead, he fusses and runs to Mommy or Daddy waiting for us to let him know he's "fine" and then off he goes again. I often joke that he must be part cat because the child is constantly climbing on me, over me, on top of me, around me, behind me; I wonder if sometimes I resemble a jungle gym. Gideon has bright, shining blue eyes and a dimpled smile that light up the room.

It's exciting watching him grow and change. I look forward to seeing how he'll be as a big brother come September!

Here's a glance back in time.

Gideon: 1 week old

Gideon: 1 year old

Gideon: 2 years old

My Boys

My favorite recent picture of my two little ones:

Vampires Beware!

I'm taking advantage of the upcoming "holiday" (I put that in quotes because I'm not so sure Halloween is necessarily worth having true holiday status but that's my personal bias and may have something to do with all the frightening cat imagery. Maybe not, but I've never been a big fan of Halloween)...anyway, I am using Halloween to provide an enticing and clever-ish blog post title for a post about a couple of garlicky recipes that I love.

I just made this one last night and I am telling you, if you like garlic, Make. This. Now! It is DELICIOUS. Have you ever had cream of garlic soup? I hadn't until I came across this recipe. Yum! I did not take pictures throughout my cooking prep because I don't own an extra special camera nor do I possess very good camera skills. And while those are perfectly valid excuses, I also did not take pictures due to the fact that while I'm cooking, I'm generally very eager to get to the whole eating part of the scenario. And also if you check out the link you'll see pictures and the recipe, why duplicate efforts right? If I do another food/recipe post, I'll attempt to take pictures and then you can all laugh at said attempt.

I've made this next one for a couple of years now and every time I put in it on the table Matt and I toss around the phrase "restaurant-quality" throughout the meal. It builds my self-esteem for sure. I'm referring to these sour cream garlic mashed potatoes. So make them, enjoy them, and feel better about yourself. If you don't have white pepper in your cabinet, get some, don't omit it. The white pepper is good!

So if you want to wow your guests with some garlicky deliciousness and be assured that they will keep one another at a distance (that was a bad breath joke), these are the recipes for you. And my thinking is that with Halloween approaching, under the guise of keeping vampires away, you could probably make and serve both things. I wouldn't typically advise two garlicky dishes in the same meal but you could swing it during a Halloween party, no? Anyway, Halloween or not, wooden stakes or not, eat these things! You won't be sorry, unless of course you're a vampire. Muhahaha.

Confessions of a Scaredy Cat

Allow me to preface this with the following:  I have some issues with animals. My greatest concern is the unpredictability factor, especially animals I'm unfamiliar with. This concern has increased since having children. I know, I know; people are unpredictable too, those with serious mental illnesses even more so and I was a mental health therapist to addicted, mentally-ill criminals so what's my hang-up? I'm not sure, but for some reason I have a level of discomfort around animals I don't know.

And here's the part where I confess that I left my kid on the porch with a stray cat. A one-eyed stray cat. Because I was skeeerd! This time last year, Caleb went out onto the front porch one morning before I caught up to accompany him. Within seconds I hear his little, fear-filled voice calling out to me. I peek outside to see Caleb standing in the corner, backed up against the house. I survey the area to determine what's causing him to cower. I spot the gray tabby. He's thin and tough-looking with a missing eye. The thing freaked me out. Of course a pet-less little 2-year old would be frightened. Instead of my inner mama bear jumping into action, I quickly closed the storm -door and called Matt to come rescue our son. And he did, he stepped outside all brave-like, scooped Caleb up, and came inside. My hero! He laughed at me and poked fun at me for being afraid.

Since that experience, I've eluded that particular cat more than once in a bit of a scared frenzy. He really has never done anything threatening. I'm just a wimp. I envision it going all crazy on me and flying at my face or something. I dunno. Speaking of mental problems...

Then the other night after a run to the grocery store, I park my car out front and go to step out. I place one foot out and spot this black and white cat. I've never seen this one before. I've come to recognize most of the strays in the neighborhood (what happened to spaying and neutering??). I stopped dead. I got chills. Now I am sounding really crazy. I probably shouldn't be sharing this. I yanked my foot back in the car! Then I did what any sane person would do, I called my husband who was inside. I asked him to come "rescue me from this cat." He laughs at me. I tell him to "hurry up!" The cat slinks away so I consider myself safe. No sign of Matt yet (seriously?! What is taking him so long?) but I decide to get out of the car. I start up the walkway and bounding out of the darkness comes the cat. With hands full of bags and car door shut, I'm committed now. I act casual as I walk up the stairs. I know animals can smell fear so I'm trying to squelch mine. I walk briskly up the stairs and onto our porch, simultaneously willing the cat not to rub against my legs **shudder** and Matt to come to the door. The cat is circling the porch rocking chairs, eyeing my shins.

Finally! Matt is at the door, I yell something to him about not coming quickly enough and demand that he open the door "right now!" He does and I hurry into the house. He looks at me, perplexed by my irrationality, and then he glances at the fluffy black and white kitty on the porch. He laughs. Again. I try to explain my fear but I just sound kooky. Matt assures me that a) the cat is most likely friendly, b) if the cat were not friendly, I could easily overpower it and protect myself, c) "He's not a stray, house cats roam the neighborhood," and d) it's "nice" when cats rub against your legs. Hm...agree to disagree on all accounts.

Sleep Deprivation and Coordination or Lack Thereof

In the past couple of months, I've been working out regularly. This is something I did back in college and then again when I was first married. Then I had kids and well, it kinda fell by the wayside. Anyway, I've been taking a class at the Y and I'm really enjoying it. I go three days a week and essentially pay to half-kill myself while somebody else watches my children. It's good times.

One morning I show up to class after barely sleeping the previous night. Both children had been up multiple times and I had gotten a cumulative 3 and a half hours or something ridiculous like that. However, due to my stellar dedication and the shame I would feel knowing that the class "regulars" might judge me if I didn't show up, I went to the gym anyway. That team mentality thing really gets at you, huh?

So there I am-tired and not quite as a functional as I typically am. We start to warm up. The warm-up routine varies by the day but on this particular day it involves doing a few laps around the room, some jumping jacks, high-knees running, and then the side-shuffle. We're side-shuffling around the room as a group in a large circle. In my exhaustion I neglect to move my feet quickly enough. Rather than moving my left foot to the side as my right foot comes into the center, my right foot comes in swiftly while my left foot stays in place. I step on my own foot and fall down like a tree (I think I heard "timber" being yelled in the background) on my side, stopping the whole circle of people from moving. Good thing I showed up to avoid being looked down upon by the others. At that moment I found myself in a position where I was literally being looked down upon by the others. Ha! Really though, I hopped back up quickly, chuckled, assured the trainer and the rest of the class that I was "okay" and kept right on going. I barely missed a beat or so it seemed in my fatigued, embarrassed, slightly bruised reality. Life lesson learned: anticipate subpar athletic performance after severe sleep deprivation and prepare for potential injury and embarrassment.

The offending feet, they failed me. Awesome shoes
though right? :)

Drok it Like it's Hoth

Gideon is 20-months-old and while he has a whole bunch of words in his vocabulary, many of them are slightly mispronounced. This is improving with time and he has already started to correct some of the examples I'm going to provide. I want to remember them though so to make it more interesting for you, here is a list of Gideon's mispronunciations within well-known song lyrics (look for the bold words).

-Drok it like it's hoth

-I heard it through the blakevine

-I wanna holth your hand

-The can-canman can. He mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.

-She's a grand ol' fick she's a high-flying fick

-Hoff! I need somebody, hoff, not just anybody!


Bonus: Caleb rarely mispronounces anything these days but he does have his fair share of word confusion. Recently I was on the phone with Matt and within conversation I mentioned that "Gideon ate a whole triangle of quesadilla." Caleb then got on the phone with Matt and says, "Daddy, Gideon ate a whole square of diarrhea!" Hm...not quite and EW!!!! Pretty funny though.

Hey Murph, get off my Lawn!!

Ah...Murphy's Law. Here's a peek at how Murphy's law manifests itself in my world.


-I wipe 3 butts daily, often more than once. Those 3 butts always need wiping within the same 30 minute period. This might be seen as a benefit to some, get it all over with at once; not for me though. Why, you ask? I have a raging case of eczema on my right pinky finger that is exacerbated by hand-washing. The 3 consecutive hand washes? No bueno.

-Caleb does not often wet the bed but you better believe the night it happens he has just had a bath and I've just put clean sheets on his bed. Every time.

-I've become somewhat of a ninja in my house as far as avoiding creaky floorboards in an attempt to keep sleeping babies asleep. On nights Gideon is completely conked out, no problem tiptoeing out of his room without a sound. On the nights he's been up for hours and he is only lightly sleeping when I finally get him down, of course I step on at least 4 creaky floorboards on my way out of the room. So frustrating!

-Matt is apparently physically incapable of stifling his sneezes (at least that's what he tells me). His sneezes are big and loud! Yup, you guessed it. A sleeping child nearby or in his arms? Matt just has to sneeze!

-Instead of making my usual choice to relax/nap during the boys' nap time, I decide to do something productive. Without fail, one of the boys wakes up earlier than usual and my productivity takes an abrupt nose dive.

-When one of the kids wakes up in the middle of the night, I lie back down only to be awakened by the other one moments later.

-This scenario can go one of 3 ways, none in my favor. 1) I go to the store for a specific item, I leave store without said item because I neglected to make a list.  2) I make a point to jot down a list, head to store, arrive at store without list and leave store without all necessary items. 3) I make the list and actually take the list with me, however I am confident I don't need to reference said list and I arrive home only to realize I did not purchase all necessary items. My memory is not what it once was. I blame sleep deprivation. (Yes, I realize this would be resolved if I were to use the list app on my phone. I haven't had a smartphone long enough for this to be instinctual yet. I'll get there eventually.)

All of this is just the tip of the iceberg folks. What's Murphy doing over at your place?

Lesser Known Reasons why I Love my Husband

Today, August 20th, marks Matt's and my (aren't you glad I didn't say "Matt's and I's" or is that just a pet peeve of mine?!) seventh wedding anniversary. It hit me a couple nights ago that instead of writing the expected syrupy-sweet post, I'd prefer to list out all the random things I love about Matt. On top of all the usual suspects (he's kind, caring, a good dad, etc) there are a million little things I love about my husband.

Without further ado...I love:

-the way Matt turns pages, particularly pages in children's books; he doesn't pinch the pages between thumb and forefinger, he rests the pads of his fingers on the top of the page and delicately flips it

-the way Matt hears odd things in song lyrics and rather than verifying that said odd lyric is in fact what the singer is belting out, he goes with it. Example: "One Hand in my Pocket" by Alanis Moirssette. The actual line is "one hand in my pocket, and the other one is playing the piano." Matt seriously believed she was saying, "one hand in my pocket, and the other one is sprayin' out B and O" (as in body odor, ha!).

-the way he yammers on about his job to anyone who brings it up to him because he truly loves it that much

-that he's a renaissance man; he can build a computer from scratch, install kitchen cabinets, lay tile, repair concrete steps, do plumbing and electrical work, sing. He does a mean boy's/men's haircut and quick mental math. Is there anything he can't do? Seriously!

-that he's great at doing impersonations and accents, ask him to do Hank Hill, that's a really good one. (side note: this is a slight point of contention because I feel this gives him a one-up on me in the funniness category, I'm a little jealous of this and I am TERRIBLE at impersonations/accents).

-that he loves babies

-that he can eat an entire package of Keebler Rainbow Cookies in one sitting

-his amazing work ethic and his dedication to finding a job he loves; 10 or so jobs in (that's a blog post in itself), he finally found what he loves and he's been doing it for 4 years quickly moving up to a principal position and technical lead of the group

-that he's a total nerd trapped in a cool dude's body/persona. The man plays a text-based role-playing computer game called a Multi-User Dimension or MUD for short. Do you even know what that is?! Of course you don't, because you're not a nerd nor are you married to one. But at the same time he can walk into a  room wearing jeans and a witty tee-shirt, looking all muscly, start chatting people up, and be loved immediately. Not at all the stereotypical geek.

I could continue but I won't. I love this man and I love that we get to do life side by side forever!

This past weekend before our anniversary date.

Caleb Turns 3

Back on August 1st, Caleb turned 3!! 3 whole years since I held my newborn baby in my arms and watched him slowly blink as he stared into my eyes.

Here's the current rundown:
Weight: 36 pounds
Height: 39 inches

Likes:  babies, fruit, riding his bike (he got a balance bike for his birthday)
Dislikes:  sharing, vegetables, being scolded/put in time-out

Milestones that occurred this past year:
-potty training
-moving out of a crib into a toddler bed
-switching car seat from rear-facing to forward-facing
-dental cleaning that involved actual dental tools rather than only the toothbrush and a visual exam

For whatever reason I'm struggling writing this post. So I'll say this: the past year has been equal parts wonderful and challenging. Caleb is extremely stubborn, persistent, and strong-willed. He's also sweet, funny, and ridiculously smart. My goal is to help shape him into a respectful, well-behaved child while at the same time not squelching his personality. It's a rough task. I question my parenting and discipline tactics daily, always praying my choices are fostering his spirited personality while also helping him tease out the undesirable behaviors. I'm sensing this could become a drawn-out post full of self-reflection. I'll avoid dragging you through that and instead leave you with some pictures of my handsome little boy!

Caleb at 1 week old

Caleb at 1 year old

Caleb at 2 years old

Caleb at 3 years old

Gideon is 18 Months Old

It's extremely difficult for me to imagine Gideon turning 2 years old in a mere 6 months but here we are as of July 12th with an 18-month-old. It goes by fast! Really really fast! Too fast!

Obligatory stats: 33 inches tall (75th percentile), 23 pounds and 5 ounces (25th percentile). He's tall and thin. He grew a full inch in the past 3 months but only put on a few ounces. The doctor is unconcerned and just mentioned that it's clear Gideon is very active and that his calorie-consumption hasn't yet caught up to his activity level.

Likes: climbing, pretzels, kisses
Dislikes: potatoes,  long car rides, sleeping past 5:30AM (ugh!)

His vocabulary has expanded like crazy in the past few months. My current favorites are:
-eh-plane (airplane)
-fwowah (flower)
-hoth (hot)
-twain (train)

Gideon's been a slow teether, not getting his first tooth until he was 9 months old. It was a very slow process until about a month ago. Now the little guy has 8 teeth coming in at once, 4 of them being molars! Thankfully after this slew of teeth are fully in, we should be in the clear for a little while. With all these new teeth he has recently majorly increased the amount he eats.

His personality is developing more and more and I love watching him grow from baby to little boy. He has a great sense of humor and after getting a laugh or two he will gladly repeat things again and again for more laughter. He has mastered walking backwards since it got a reaction the first time he did it. He loves to cover his eyes with his hands, wait for someone to say "peek-a-boo" and then quickly uncover his eyes while donning a surprised expression (eyebrows up, mouth in a little "O" shape), it's very cute. He's persistent with a bit of a stubborn streak but definitely more easily redirected than Caleb was at this age. He's a daredevil of sorts but a wee bit of a wimp when it comes to dealing with the resulting bump or fall. He's a Mama's boy for sure and still climbs up in my lap many times a day to nurse briefly then hops down to get back to playing. He can recognize and verbally identify several letters and numbers. He loves and admires his brother but has gotten to a point where he doesn't take a lot of what Caleb dishes out anymore. While I don't want to see my children fight, I do feel better that Gideon is no longer just a helpless victim in their scuffles. He has started telling me, before filling his diaper, that he needs to "poo, poop." I've really got to capitalize on that one and maybe think about starting the potty training process sooner rather than later. 

Gideon at 16 months

Gideon at 17 months

Gideon at 18 months

He's cute and big and looks like a little man-boy in that last shot, don't you think? Happy 18-months little dude!

He Likes to Wear his Suit

A few weeks ago, we were at a child's birthday party. There was the sound of laughing children and chatting adults. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping. A lovely day. There was a moon-bounce, a swing set, and a wading pool. We brought the kids to the party in swim attire, knowing that they'd be playing in water. Caleb ran over to play in the wading pool and Gideon wandered around the yard. Matt and I were conversing with other parents.

One of the other moms who happened to be checking in on the wading pool kids politely interrupted with, "Hey Heather, it looks like someone is getting pretty comfortable over there." Several things flashed through my mind. Caleb was up to something, but what? I quickly walked around the moon-bounce that had obscured my view and then dashed to the wading pool when I spotted my 2-year-old standing there stark naked! I approached Caleb and asked him why he had taken his clothes off. He informed me matter-of-factly, "I'm not all wet anymore Mommy." As I directed him to get dressed, "give me your leg, now your other leg," I'm explaining to him that he's wearing bathing trunks and a rash guard and how they're supposed to get wet and how he should not just strip down to nothing around so many people or outside or unless he's getting ready to hop in the tub. All the while, the splashing gaggle of little girls ranging in age from 4-6 years old are all squealing in unison, "Ew, ew, ewwww, GROSS!!" Fortunately, after re-dressing him and emphasizing the importance of staying clothed, we've avoided any further exhibitionism.

That is until yesterday... I was in the kitchen starting dinner and I may or may not have been semi-distracted checking out some cooking blogs for recipes which led me to non-cooking blogs and then down the rabbit hole that is the internet. Anyway, the kids were out on the back deck (adjacent to the kitchen), playing in the water table, and I was keeping an ear out for any problems.

The boys were getting along well enough but then suddenly I heard squealing and giggling followed by scampering feet. I peeked out the door, but they were out of view at the other corner of the deck. I stepped outside to see Gideon chasing a very nude Caleb. Apparently, they both found this hilarious. Admittedly, I did too but I attempted to stifle my laughter as I scooped up my super-pale nudie to rush him inside.

I'm thankful our 7-year-old neighbor girl was not present during this. I'm positive she would have had all kinds of commentary. I'm also thankful that the 10 or so neighbors in extremely close proximity (townhouse-living folks) were nowhere to be found (Phew! My parenting reputation remains untarnished, ha!!).

I questioned Caleb as to why he had taken his clothes off. Similarly to his reasoning during the previous episode, he explained that his clothes were "all wet" and he wanted "to be dry." I again told him that when he's playing with water (other than in the tub) it's okay for his clothes to be wet, etc., etc. I'm sure my words went completely unheard. From this point forth, whenever water play is involved, I suppose I will have to keep an extra-close eye on Caleb.

Silver lining? I figure I can brag to other parents about Caleb being totally into wearing his only suit even on the hottest of days. I'll just omit the part about that suit being of the birthday variety. ;)

(I would have included a picture but technology is not always on our side and I've lost ALL of my iPhone photos. It's a good lesson to learn I suppose. Backup your stuff frequently folks!)

Gideon is 15 Months Old

I wound up not doing 13 month and 14 months posts. So I feel it necessary to fill in some gaps here. Shortly before Gideon turned 13 months, Matt decided he needed a haircut. I realize now that the "before" picture doesn't look much different than the "after" picture.

Before

This leads me to believe that the suffering witnessed in the picture below was likely unnecessary. Sorry baby boy.

Not so happy about being held still. He wasn't nearly
as calm and cool as his brother was for his first cut.

Thankfully, he did cheer up.

After

Anyway, then he turned 13 months old. 

Gideon at 13 months

Tap-Tap-Tap

Playing at the park.

And a month later, he turned 14 months old.

Gideon at 14 months

Then a month later, on April 12th, he turned 15 months old.

Gideon at 15 months. An eerily similar shot to
 the 13-month one. Totally unplanned.

Without further ado, here is the latest on the littlest dude in the Pladna household. 

Stats:  24 pounds, 3 ounces and 32inches tall; that's the 50th and 75th percentiles respectively
Hates: diaper changes, having things taken from him, cheese
Loves: oatmeal, drumming on things, things that spin

He's beginning to talk and has racked up a bit of a vocabulary. I love this stage!

An Incomplete Vocabulary list:
-beh beh (bellybutton)
-yah (fan)
-No
-uh uh (uh-oh)
-mama
-dada
-kah (car)
-pop-pop
-book
-bubble
-bath
-more
-nuh (nurse)
-wheee!
-baby
-bin (spin)
-ball
-tah (tap)

He gave up crawling months ago and now he even does a little running. Well, I guess really quick walking would be a better descriptor. His personality is beginning to shine and he has revealed to us quite a temper! He does not like not getting his way, he does not like when Caleb pesters him (all too frequently), and he certainly does not like it when he wants Mommy and I'm not immediately available. I wonder what 2 will be like?!

It's not all temper tantrums though. Gideon is such a sweetheart, he's our sensitive child. He puckers his little lips, leans toward us and says "mmmm" waiting for a kiss, he snuggles, he giggles, he gives Eskimo kisses to his stuffed animals. He's super-curious and spends time analyzing and exploring things. He loves to flip through books and he's still enamored with Caleb. He finally has a total of six teeth, two of which just erupted around Easter time. I'm convinced he'll still be getting baby teeth at age seven. He recently discovered the joys of climbing onto the furniture and he needs to be pulled down from chairs and couches  a few times a day. He's begun to sleep more solidly through the night and seems to be trending toward only one wake-up a night which is generally pretty painless; a brief nursing session then back to sleep. He has also pretty consistently been taking only one nap a day. Although when he has only had one nap, he is pooped out by dinner time for sure.

Overall, he's a total joy. I'm continually amazed by how different he is at this age than Caleb was at the same age. It's awesome to watch Gideon learn and grow and it's difficult to remember what life was even like before this little guy entered our lives.

Ultimate Mommy Fail-Almost

About a half-hour ago, Caleb started bugging me for juice. "Juice, Mommy, I want juice. May I have juice, pleeeease?" (with hands folded and pleading eyes). I rarely give Caleb juice because I feel water is a better option. But he is so darn cute and it's Friday and I'm so darn tired. So yeah, juice sounded like a fine beverage choice.

I was unsure if we even had any but then remembered that there was a little bit of OJ on the bottom shelf of the fridge. I told Caleb he could have his juice and I headed toward the kitchen only to discover that we were, in fact, out of juice. Bummer. Being a 2-year-old and all, Caleb doesn't deal so well with being told "yes" and then suddenly being told "no," regardless of circumstances. So, I spot the margarita mix on the top shelf of the fridge and decide quickly that it's a fair substitute, kinda like lemonade or well, limeade I guess. Because again, it's Friday and I'm tired and I want to avoid the meltdown that would occur if I were to tell him there's no juice remaining.

So I pour some margarita mix into his cup and fill the remaining half of his cup with water. Yes, even though he's almost 3, I typically dilute his juice on the rare occasion that he has any. Again, because I believe water to be the healthiest option. I'm conscientious like that. Anyway, I hand him his cup and start to screw the cap back on the margarita mix. As I'm doing so, I think that it smells a little "off." I look at the label. OH MY GOD!!!! I realize at this moment that it is not margarita mix but rather pre-mixed margarita, as in tequila-already-included. Um...what?!?? I snatched the cup so quickly from Caleb that I'm positive he didn't even manage to take a single sip.

This explains two things:
1. The importance of  reading product labels carefully, prior to consuming said product.
      -AND-
2. The reason the couple margaritas I had over the past several months (I drink alcohol even less frequently than I allow Caleb to have juice, both for the same reason) seemed so strong when Matt mixed them in the traditional fashion using the mix plus tequila.

Well, crisis averted but now I have a toddler standing wide-eyed, in shock because he's suddenly and abruptly juice-less. So, I squeeze Caleb an orange, add some water, and offer that to him. This satisfies him. Imminent meltdown? Averted! And then what do I do? Well, I drink the watered-down margarita straight out of his  sippy-cup of course. Because again, it's Friday and I'm tired and I almost just got my 2-year-old drunk. So much for conscientious, huh?

Cheers!

I Stand Corrected

Caleb has never struggled with "finding his voice" as some would call it. He has been loud and proud to say what's on his mind since he began talking. Recently, he has taken to making known when someone is error. Typically, that person is me by default because I'm the fluently-speaking person he is around most often (Gideon is starting to tally up a little vocabulary though). You'd like some examples? I thought you'd never ask.


-After listing a wide range of baby animals and telling me what action he was imagining they were performing, Caleb seemed at a loss for ideas. I offered, "How 'bout a baby penguin?" He liked that, so I continued. "A baby penguin walking." Caleb looked at me with disapproval, slapped his hands straight down to his sides, wiggled his body side to side, then corrected me, "They waddle Mommy, penguins waddle, like this, not walk." 


-After I told Gideon that the large, plastic insect he was carrying around is a "bug," (a word Gideon can manage to repeat after me) Caleb says matter-of-factly, "That's a dragonfly." *sigh

-Right after bonking his brother on the head with a play-kitchen utensil, Caleb was placed in timeout. I explained to him his offense, "Caleb, you are in timeout because you hit your brother in the head with a spoon and that is not okay." Caleb, with head hung in feigned guilt, peered at me from under his eyebrows and chirped, "It's a ladle."  Touche. 


He also corrects others. During a play-date with some friends at the park, Caleb picked up a large, flat rock, held it to his ear, and spoke into it, presumably to an imaginary friend on the other end. My friend asked him, "Is that a phone, Caleb?" to which Caleb replied, "No, it's just a rock." 


And it doesn't stop there. He corrects our behavior as well. "Mommy, don't toss that, no throwing in the house!" or "You need to share" as Matt and I sit on the couch, playfully yanking the shared blanket back and forth. 

This kid is a trip! And I can't help but love him for it! 

Yes, those are his underwear on his head. This is the most recent,
decent, uploaded photo I have at the moment.

Attachment Issues

It's not news that Caleb becomes strongly attached to some weird things. He's a passionate kid, but this time he went overboard. Several months ago on a Daddy/son car ride to the grocery store, Matt introduced Caleb to a particular song by asking, "Do you wanna rock?". The song title eludes me at the moment but that is unimportant. Anyway, because Matt is so fun and spunky, he played said song for Caleb while banging the air-drums and energetically slamming the air-cymbals on cue (all while driving, the man must be a superhero). Caleb ate that up! Now, Caleb imitates this each time he hears the song. Cute, right?

Well, it was cute right up until the point where my two-year old became a musical backseat tyrant. Since then, each time we're in the car and the car starts rolling Caleb says, "I wanna rock!" to which I generally oblige because I believe in choosing my battles. But sometimes I'm just plain sick of the song and on a 30 minute drive, listening to the same song more than 4 times makes me consider veering off the road into a tree.

So, I attempt a multitude of tactics. I stealthily stop the CD and flip on the radio while in mid-conversation with Caleb hoping that he won't catch onto my switcheroo. No luck! "I wanna rock, I don't like this rock, I want different rock!" comes blaring in my ears from behind. I try to find a station playing music in the same genre as the song Caleb would like to hear, nope. Same response except louder. Then I try to make it fun, "Listen Caleb, it's party-dance music" as I whip my head back and forth and try to look like I'm at the hottest rave in town. Sometimes this will distract him for a little while but then Caleb remembers that he has an opinion and he wants it to be heard. So King Caleb begins screaming at the top of his lungs from his five-point harnessed, cow-print throne.

At this point, the whole thing has become a parenting issue, right? I can't possibly give in now even if I'd really like to because, well that would only teach him that yelling and being rude gets him exactly what he wants. Blast! I hate those parenting moments where I can hear my conscience advising me to do the "responsible" thing when all I want to do is make. the. noise. stop! So, like the award-winning mom I aim to be, I choose to make my child suffer through the remainder of the car ride with no music at all. Not that I didn't try. I did the whole, "It's Mommy's turn to choose a song, I'll listen to this then we'll listen to your music." And the "Caleb, your choices are to listen to Mommy's music or listen to nothing at all." Caleb then gives me the run-around, "okay, no music," I turn the music off, "NO, NO, NO, ROCK, I WANNA ROCK! I DON'T WANT THIS SONG!", I turn my music back on, "NO. OTHER. ROCK. MOMMY!" Then through gritted teeth, "Caleb, if you do not stop screaming, I will turn the music off altogether and we will have no music for the rest of the car ride."

Oh, I should let you know that through all of this, Gideon is sleeping. I want to keep him sleeping. I'm becoming angrier thinking that Caleb's antics might awaken him. But finally I turn the music off, forced to follow through on my threats. You know, for the sake of consistency and what not. I've read that's the key to discipline. I'd like to throw that key onto the railroad tracks and watch it get crushed by a fast moving train at this point but I journey forth in my consistent-motherly way. This means I sat through a full fifteen minutes of my son screaming, like horror movie screaming, at me for the remainder of our drive home. It was tortuous for both of us. Someone please give me a sticker on my star chart for being sticking to my guns, anyone? Please. At least then it would feel somewhat worth it.

After that horrific incident, I now just let the kid be my maestro. I don't really fight it. I can't. I surrender. It's fine. I'll listen to the same song repeatedly for the rest of my earthly life as long as I don't have to endure the screaming again. Recently, on a lengthy drive home from a play date, Caleb of course wanted "to rock!" but then he fell asleep. After about five minutes, I stopped the CD and turned on the radio. Caleb roused from his sleep to demand his song in a rather groggy mumble. I promptly turned his song back on, he promptly dozed back to sleep, and then I enjoyed the remainder of the drive in peace. Can you blame me?

He's Got Jokes

Caleb was sitting on the toilet last night working on his...ahem...number two. He peered into the toilet at his waste and mentioned something about Piglet. Knowing he's a creative (see: weird) kid I asked him if he was telling me that his stool's shape reminded him of Piglet. He looked up at me and said, "That's not Piglet Mommy, it's Poo." Get it? Poo and Pooh, as in Winnie The. I laughed. Hard. Caleb seemed confused at my amusement so I venture to say the joke wasn't deliberate. It was funny nonetheless though. Here's hoping you laughed instead of puking. Sorry about the poop talk.