A few months ago I went to a baby shower for a mom who was expecting her second little boy. She had told her hostess that since she already had a boy, she was pretty fixed up clothes and supplies-wise. So the hostess threw her a children's book shower. (Which, by the by, I think is an awesome idea, and I had a lot of fun picking out some fun titles for her little boys.)
It so happened that the hostess of the shower had a tremendous collection of books, which she blamed largely on her husband, who had majored in philosophy and could not part with any of his school texts, whether or not he ever read them again. Four large bookcases in her living room, one in each corner. And I found myself admiring and appreciating the idea of such a home library. We have two bookcases ourselves, and while I have whittled it down occasionally, I do like to add to it and have a hard time parting with books. I like owning books. I thought most everyone did.
To my surprise, a warm discussion started up about home libraries as we munched and mingled at this baby shower. One of my friends in no uncertain terms declared that she didn't like spending money on books, that home libraries were for old-fashioned wealthy estates, that she didn't see the point of owning a book because she never read any book twice, and she loves going to the public library rather than having a musty old collection of her own taking up space at home.
I'm a big fan of the public library myself and we are just getting to the point where the Code Yellow children can be trusted to come along with me to the public library. But I am also in love with the idea of a home library and find something so enriching and lovely about well-worn favorites on shelves at home, and have always felt that it says something to my children about the value I place on reading and learning.
Some of the volumes on my shelves are from years of school - at one time required but surprisingly enjoyed. Others are inextricably linked to my childhood and just looking at them brings back a moment or a social experience or a feeling that I never expressed but that I felt while escaping into a book. Others have been read and read and read and I will never tire of them and I am glad they are mine, not touched by anyone else between the times I pick them up to love again.
I like a fresh, clean book, too, with uncracked spine and that new printy papery smell. I think I pay for a book partly for that new feeling - my own personal adventure waiting to be opened.
But after the talk at this baby shower (which I left coveting the new children's library of the guest of honor), my curiosity is piqued: Do you have a home library? Do you read and reread the books there, or are they kinda like badges of honor, showing that you read them, if not enjoyed them, once? (I have more than a few of those, to tell the truth.) Do you buy books or borrow books more often? Why? If you borrow because of budget, do you dream of the day you can buy books to your heart's content?
And, the zillion dollar question: Who said, "It is the dust, perhaps," to whom, and in what movie? (Hint: The line is in reference to a library and the movie is based on one of my most favorite books ever.)
A few months ago I went to a baby shower for a mom who was expecting her second little boy. She had told her hostess that since she already had a boy, she was pretty fixed up clothes and supplies-wise. So the hostess threw her a children's book shower. (Which, by the by, I think is an awesome idea, and I had a lot of fun picking out some fun titles for her little boys.)
(This is a new little feature of CYM here...sometimes an odd tidbit about me, sometimes a line from the kids or husband, but always just one line. Because that's about all I can muster most Mondays. If you'd like to join in with a line of your own, just let me know in a comment and I'll be over to read your one-liner soon. Have a good week!)
I hear better when I put my glasses on.
(Oops...forgot to post this actually on Friday, but here we go anyway...)
I'm giving a big high five to the following fabulous posts which I enjoyed this week. If you'd like to supplement your weekend reading, go check these out, and give them your own high five!
1. Angela - her thought provoking post on the motherly culture of judgment was funny, on the money, and brought up some things I hadn't actually considered before. Especially if you haven't visited her dancing blog, this post is a good beginning point. Plus, she has kids who are at least as cute as mine.
2. Actual Unretouched Photo - I bumped into this post from another blog and just loved the intelligent wit and accuracy, to say nothing of the very sad but valid point she made about life on our planet.
3. Hot Fruita Moms - the comments on this one are as hilarious as the post itself, so read up. A very amusing off-the-cuff commentary on a common sayin' in our pop culture.
4. Morning Glory - this is actually a starting point for knowing about this wonderful service project that has reached many in our little corner of the blogosphere. I was just touched by the love given by strangers, and this post encapsulates some of my own feelings about reaching out and giving from the heart. Plus, look how adorable the results are!
5. Birthsongs - this post is actually from the week leading up to Valentine's Day, but I've thought of it frequently since reading it. It's just one aspect of family that I've never really articulated, and so many of the items on her list rang true to me in a way that I couldn't read it aloud to my husband without welling up. A great post for parents who sometimes wonder if their kids are making or breaking their relationship.
Warning: A small conversation that may be too much info follows. But it must be recorded, for hilarity's sake.
Calvin: That toenail has a problem.
Calvin: It's yellow.
D: It sure is.
Calvin: You could also call it blonde.
OK, besides laughing heartily at this little word interchange, a couple things came to mind:
1. Blondes must really have more fun(gus). But I'm thinking that a brunette toenail would probably be something really bad.
2. I think I will start substituting "blonde" for "yellow" in everything. Blonde Cake Mix...Code Blonde Mom...
A couple weeks ago, I know, I know, I was about to throw him out the window. And maybe next week I will want to again. But I just want to say that Calvin is pure joy to me right now. He makes me laugh, I feel like we "get" each other more often than not, he is exuberant and curious and smart and teachable, cooperating more than clashing, eager to help and expressive and creative.
I appreciate certain things about children at most any age, but this is the first phase or age of my children that I am most definitely thoroughly loving, with almost no exceptions. Anyone else have an age of child that they just utterly enjoy or treasure more than another?
Here are some things Cal has said that make me smile inside - mostly it's that he's trying out cliches or expressions that he has apparently overheard. It is just incredibly adorable to me.
We have a little routine after dinner here that Dad gives the boys their baths, reads them stories, then they come and get me from my evening vegetable state to say prayers with them.
For a few weeks now each night has been a little bit of an episode over the getting of mom for prayers, depending on who gets to me first or who yells down the hall to me before the first one can get to me. So David told them last night to hold hands to find me and tell me - together.
I heard the prayer discussion and was headed up the stairs as they were walking down, holding hands in their footy pajamas, Calvin waiting for Henry to navigate the steps. I commented on how nice they were to each other, holding hands and being good brothers.
To which Calvin answered, "Yeah, we were doing the married thing."
The clencher is this: when he said the word "married," he let go of Henry's hand to make the rabbit ear / quotation mark symbol with his fingers.
And I ask, where does a kid pick this stuff up? I could not help smiling (and maybe laugh a tiny bit) all through the prayer.
Today we had a little misadventure in DC, the end of which was marked by Calvin really needing to go to the bathroom and the people in the building nearest our car (Department of Agriculture) telling me that they didn't have a public restroom. I could see one from the entryway where I stood. Lying boldfaced to a pregnant lady and a legs-crossed preschooler. That can't make for good karma.
Anyway, I talked him into holding it until we got home (twenty minutes - pretty long by Calvin's standards) because the next building was a long cold walk and he'd be more likely to wet his pants on the way than if sitting in the car. Don't ask me about that reasoning. I just know these things.
We arrived home with dry pants and I told Calvin thanks for being such a big boy and waiting that whole long drive. And he said dramatically, "I sure couldn't have done it without you, Mom."
So tell me that being a four-year-old's mom is not cool. I'm goo-goo for him. Truly.
I really have been bitten by the nesting bug. Or the cabin fever bug. Or something. But I've been trying to get some long-standing projects and back-of-the-mind annoyances cleared out of my life, and this past week was actually able to do some of it. And it really feels good! Here's the list:
- Kitchen. It needed just a good, good scrub-down. I watched a show the other night where a couple was looking for a new home and one of the houses they looked at had a kitchen with a tile countertop. The wife was oohing and aaahing over that tile. I just wanted to tell her, "Oh, hunny. No. Run from that tile countertop. You don't want it. Trust me." But then, grout is my arch-nemesis. Seriously. Give me a sleek surface that you can tell when you've cleaned it. Otherwise, visions of that lady on the TV commercial, rubbing a raw chicken around the place, stalk and torment me. Anyway, the kitchen and its nasty uncleanable grout got a good deep cleaning. And it made the whole house feel better. Plus, I cleaned out the cleaning product cabinet and got some Febreze so I can at least pretend to be a streamlined and super cleaner like Barb. That makes me feel better already, too!
- Laundry. I had a nifty system all worked out so it didn't pile up on me like this, but the daily maintenance habits have fallen by the wayside lately, so it was catch up time again!
- In conjunction with the laundry, I organized the boys clothes into a GREAT hand-me-down system (about which I will blog later) so that they are wearing the most correct size of things and the worn-out or too small stuff has been tossed, given or stored for #3. That is a thrill. You don't even know the warm fuzzy feeling it gives me.
- Menu, Grocery Shopping and Homecooked Meals. Every day this week. We've been flying by the seat of our nauseated pants and just eating what we had or what we could without losing it, so it was time to put some actual, organized nutrition on the table. This week I also tried something I've been wanting to do for a long time: Leftover Makeovers. This is when you make something yummy and different from leftovers instead of just microwaving the exact thing you had the night before. So this week, I made pork tenderloin with apricot sauce first. Then from the leftover meat I made chili verde on a different night and then BBQ sandwiches on another night. Quite tasty, quite a variety, and quite economical.
- Our room. Painted! I never knew that yellow could be tired, but that's what it was, on our walls, long before we even moved in (a year ago). Finally, we got the paint and made the time and it's so fresh! and clean! and actual-home looking! I still have some art to put up and things to pull together, so I'll post "before and after" later. It just makes me happy to walk in there!
- Sciatica. It has set in with a vengeance already, so it is now one of my daily to-do's to take a load off my butt nerve and rest a bit. Luckily, David had some snow days off last week and President's Day yesterday, so he painted all the trim in our room and ran interference with the boys. Almost makes me want to be partly crippled on a permanent basis.
- Blogging. I got all the little notes out of my little notebook (yes, I keep one) and put them into blog posts. And a few pictures, too, so the fruits of my camera can be shared with everyone. Feels great! I got most of my haunting little miscellaneous thoughts and Code Yellow moments caught up and posted.
- Blogging some more. I even managed to blog around a bit and do more commenting than I have in a long, long time. And meet some new blogs that I've had on a list for a while. Very nice.
Which brings me to the award for the very cool weekend readers who helped me dejunk - or as my husband says, "empty the dumptruck of my brain" - by commenting on all five posts from late Saturday night. It's fun to dejunk, but it's even funner to get feedback on it. Makes me want to do it more frequently. Or at least keep up on my posting. So, for your visits and comments, here is
The "I helped Code Yellow dejunk" award. Custom designed by one of my favorite bloggers, photoshopper extraordinaire, the most pop-culturally savvy American I know, the Super Happy Girl herself, No Cool Story of More Cowbell. (Winners, feel free to save the image to your own hard drive and post it in your sidebar.)
In fact, No Cool Story is the first winner (I gotta think up something a little extra for the girl who not only won the award, but um, made the award for me when I couldn't figure it out). The other deserving winners are:
Pam of Yes, I'm JUST a Mom
Katrina of Callapidder Days
Lauren of Baseballs and Bows
Morning Glory of Seeds From My Garden.
I'm also extending an honorable mention to Angela, Megachick, and Liz, who came, saw and said something about some of my dejunking extravaganza as well.
All of these women have suhweet blogs, by the way, so if you haven't become acquainted with them, get outta here right now, and go read about something more interesting than my housekeeping woes!
Huge thank you, once again, people. My days are a little more under control now and it's good to know you're hanging with me. Happy Monday!
Otherwise known as "Stuff I've Wanted to Blog About for One Reason or Another but Have Not Gotten Myself Sufficiently Together Enough to Blog About."
I've been in a bit of a blogging and personal slump, not feeling so swell physically or emotionally, and mostly just flat TIRED.
But I enjoy blogging and want to get back into the swing of things. And I have almost sanitized the house after our family's (but mostly Henry's) bout with the virus from hell and just want to get this stuff out there, for a new start and maybe - but don't hold your breath! - some consistency and interest in my blog posts.
So, this is a "sticky post" to introduce my weekend blogging extravaganza - click here to get to the home page, then grab a cup o' whatever you like and
try to enjoy the posts below this one for what they are - random, fun, and basically all the stuff that keeps getting pushed aside for real life and/or other blogness.
Call it nesting, spring cleaning, or whatever - I'm just trying to clear out and spiff up my brain and my blog and my camera and my life a bit and get a hold of myself. Of course, the laundry, the dusting, the dishes and the bathrooms would probably be a better place to start, but it's not as fun as the ol' blog, so I'm just doing what feels good.
To sweeten the deal for those of you faithful blog buddies who will read each of the posts I'm publishing this late Saturday night, you will get a groovy little award for your sidebar for generously encouraging me in "dejunking"...I'm working on it...Just leave even a one word comment on each of my posts dated February 17, 2007- there's five of them - and I'll post the award for you on Tuesday. Whaddaya say?
Oh, but first a note - I stopped word verification on my blog because of this hilarious and very apt post (not to mention my own propensity for failing at it multiple times every comment I make), then enabled comment moderation as a safeguard against crazies. But then I failed to understand how to actually moderate.
You see I am seriously not firing on all cylinders here - or as my grandmother would say, "My one cell is just not working." Yeah, it's a real problem. So, apologies to those who got moderated in an untimely manner.
And while we're on bloggy technicalities, be sure to check the box so your e-mail address appears when your comment is sent to the recipient's e-mail. It is awesome and you will love it when people do it for you, too. (Thanks, Katherine, for showing us how it's done!)
The video at the end of this post was inspired by a conversation Cal had with his Dad one night before dinner. He walked into the kitchen and asked for a drink and David told him to wait a second because he was trying to finish drying the silverware and he had bacon frying on the stove that he needed to turn before it burned.
Cal said, in awe, "You are doing TWO things at one time?! Drying silverware AND cooking bacon?!"
Cal: I can't believe you can do two things at one time! I could never do that. You're so good, Dad!
David: Yeah? But your mom is even better. She is the MASTER of doing lots of things at one time.
(I've said it before- David is the best at appreciating.)
Cal took it upon himself to improve his multi-tasking ability and came running into me first thing the next morning with this little demonstration. (I did have him re-enact for the video - I'm not really waiting with the camera for things like this. Should be, but am not.)
I personally cannot think of any two more vital things to be able to do at one time. Can you?
Photo Sharing - Upload Video - Video Sharing - Share Photos
That's what our pediatrician typed into her laptop when I took Henry for his 30 month check-up. What? Under "language development," she said he was HALF-UNDERSTANDABLE. I'm sure that falls under normal for most two-and-a-half-year-olds, but shoot.
He wakes up talking and doesn't stop except to eat or sleep, and actually says some pretty smart things for a child his age. But that little note on his record just punched me in the gut - am I one of those moms? You know, the ones that when their kids say, "googledy blogiust jsufieh gofhe vhuhsf," they respond with a goo-gooey, "Yes, sweetie, I'll turn on Baby Van Gogh and order take out Moo Shoo Pork for you in just a minute."
I think not. I hope not. I mean, there is a certain charm in kids speaking a language only their moms can understand, and I will admit that there have actually been times when I've called in Calvin to translate what Henry was trying to tell me, but that was weeks ago.
He speaks a lot. He speaks well. He doesn't tantrum for lack of communication skills. He can argue successfully with his brother (and his mom and dad for that matter). He plays a version of 20 Questions with us and can tell knock-knock jokes. I'm not even exaggerating.
But you tell me:
Translate this small list of Henryisms, and if more than half of my commenters get more than half of the answers right, then I'm gonna call that pediatrician and give her a piece of my mind, starting with, "googledy blogiust jsufieh gofhe vhuhsf!!!!"
1. fwed an butt-o (Asks for it repeatedly every morning for the last six or seven weeks, it must be spread thick and folded in half so that it has a "lid" on it - this he tells me in no uncertain but perhaps only half-understandable terms. Every. Morning.)
2. girtle, squirtle and wirtled (the first is not a boy, the second is a glorified rodent, and the third is the sphere on which we live)
3. girtlefwend (which, incidentally, he put together on his own to describe, with one raised eyebrow and a sparkly smile, his new playmate, Sara)
4. Me nah poooopaaayyyyy! (He puts, "Me nah" on the front of lots of sentences these days: "Me nah chubbybubs!" "Me nah stinky pete!" etc.)
5. Plemme have... (insert whatever he wants at the moment)
6. Tanks (This has nothing to do with the translation of this word, but just so you know, he says the "T" like the "C" in Bionce - you know what I mean? It's very cute. And he says it almost without fail when you grant any request.)
Here's the half-way bump. It's been four weeks since this photo was taken. We won't be taking any more photos of the bump. I don't have a panoramic lense.
But if there's one thing I can say about Calvin and Henry, they sure know how to push my button(s). They are fascinated by it, in fact. A little creepy, but a little bit funny.
(I feel so risque posting these pictures! Me, who has NEVER worn a bikini or halter top or anything strapless, baring her midriff to all of the cyber world and some of my in-laws. Yikes! Hope I didn't scare anyone away.)
The boys in the sweaters grandma gave them for Christmas. Might use this photo for the 2007 Christmas cards. Just photo shop in the new baby. I'm thinking that's the only way we'll get all three to smile in one photo.
Here's more of the pink pajamas - this is what he wanted to do most of the day: Sit on my lap and snooze on the desk, occasionally ask noncomittally for something to drink. It was very sad.
My working boys. They love to pretend at building and fixing, and really love to actually help!
Calvin in fact did a LOT of the painting in our room this last week. I was impressed with his sticktoitiveness, and really noticed the second day how helpful he had been the first day. We thought it would go so much more quickly to paint the second coat while he was at preschool, but I realized that he had actually painted all the places I had to bend to paint, and I didn't appreciate it until I had to bend to paint them!
Oh yeah, and wearing clothes while painting is highly overrated.
Yes, Virginia, there is such a thing as snow. Every once in a great, great while. But it's really nothing to be afraid of.
Three things that have kept Calvin and Henry entertained for amazingly long periods of time recently:
1. "What time is it, Mr. Lion?" - This is a fabulous variation on tag and works well inside when the weather is too cold and icey to enjoy. Gets lots of energy out and involves lots of counting, anticipation, and hilarious giggling and/or screaming. Which is necessary sometimes.
One person is Mr. Lion. Everyone starts at a "base" and asks, "What time is it, Mr. Lion?" He tells them whatever time he wants, and they take that number of steps away from the base, in any direction. But if he should say, "It's DINNER TIME!" instead of an hour, they all run like mad back to the base before the lion gets them for dinner!
I first read about this game and kinda thought, "Lame." But Henry and Calvin (and the co-op preschool kids) L-O-V-E-LOVE it and never want to stop playing. That's good fun, in my book.
2. Tickle the Taco - Calvin came up with this game one afternoon, rolling in a lap blanket on the floor. He announced, "Mom! I'm a taco!" So I crawled over and tickled him, then nibbled on his taco toes and pretend gobbled his head, and he thought it was the best thing ever. Then we needed to roll Henry up in the taco shell, gobble on him, tickle him, then unroll him out across the floor. This game continued until I couldn't possibly roll or tickle another taco, and the boys were thrilled with the variation on wrestling. So, a fabulous Cabin Fever Fighter. Invented by the 4-year-old.
3. Tubby Toys - I hate tub toys. I think they are a breeding ground for who-knows-what, especially with boys who do who-knows-what in the course of a bath, and the toys invariably get smelly or mildewy or whatever, despite the best efforts at sanitizing or drying them out between baths. Not to mention that cups to play with are also a big no-no in my experience since they provide the irresistible temptation to drink the bath water. Blech!
But the boys need something to keep bathtime fun, and this is it at our house: inexpensive sponges and straws. Cut a little slice in the top of a sponge and insert the straw for a mast, and you've got a little boat. The sponges can also be filled with water and squeezed out over and over again, the straws can blow and scatter the bath bubbles - the possibilities are endless and have occupied them for weeks of bath times now. And the straws are disposable, the sponges are easily washed or tossed, and the boys use their imaginations and have oodles of bubbly fun.
These kind of small simple things make me happy, especially in a world where someone is always trying to convince you that you need to buy this or that learning toy or invest in fancy curriculae or sign up for lots of extracurriculars, even at age 2. As far as I'm concerned, there is nothing better for a preschooler to be doing than laughing, running and screaming a little, and enjoying the every-day things around them. Things that don't cost anything but a little time.
I'm a little occupied with a painting project at the moment (some good before and after photos coming soon...) and my husband has been snowed (more like iced) in with us for two days and I didn't get to blogging much today, if you can imagine.
BUT, I have remembered my Valentine challenge and will have much more to say tomorrow. It's never too late to send a few new friends to your favorite blogs, and it makes a great filler post if you're experiencing blogstipation or - more likely - real-life cold and flu.
In the meantime, I had to pass this little note along. My "baby" sister sent it to me yesterday and it has kept me (and Henry) endlessly entertained. Hope you will also get a little mindless chuckle from it as well.
You probably won't find much of that here. Two tons of Reese's peanut butter hearts can't really eradicate the ornery, sassy streak that arises in me every 14th of February. They do leave a better taste in my mouth than most of the other aspects of the sweetheart's holiday does.
Don't get me wrong - For ten of my thirty-two years I've actually had a Valentine, even one who does very sweet and romantic things. So I'm almost over the high-school college idea that it is a keenly felt "Single Awareness Day." But being married to the man I am, I've let a little of the "it's totally invented by Hallmark" attitude sneak in...Mostly, though, I think I'm just more inclined to keep my fluff to myself.
But this year I came across this poem by John Keats that I had written out in an old notebook. I love the passion and sentiment and thought I would post it for love's and St. Valentine's sake...
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
And now for a little twist on the loveness...
Morning Glory gave me such a nice plug for my most recent post and brought so many new fun visitors to CYM land. It made me feel incredible - both to find her post and to see the new visitors and their comments. It made me realize that one person's good opinion and a little link love go a long, long way in doing a heart good.
I know One Woman's World will be posting the Share the Love Award winners soon and hidden treasures have been nominated over at Everyday Mommy in honor of February, but I thought that today in the midst of our less formal or maybe more personal loveydoveyness we could all think of a post - or a blog - that we heart madly, write a little plug for it, and post it for our regular visitors to meet our other bloggy land friends, and get us all hooked up with some Valentine's Day bloggity goodness. So if you have time or the inclination, go for it in the next day or two! We'll have a little blogger mixer party, huh? Let me know in a comment if you do it - I'd love to visit you and your cyber Valentine. (I'll post my plug tomorrow.)
There are things about each of my boys that I can pick out and say - That's me. Or, That's David. A trip to the grocery store the other day had me pinpointing Cal's inherited traits pretty clearly:
He put California rolls, dark chocolate truffles and purple tulips into the cart and credibly talked me into each one of them. My child.
(The tulips were especially precious, because he spotted them first thing when we walked in the door and I told him that they would get crushed in the cart, but we could pick them up right before we checked out. He disappeared partway through our shopping only to reappear a minute later with the tulips cradled in his arms: "I will hold them just like this and they won't get crushed. That way no one else can buy them before we get done. And we can take them to our house and put them in the window so they will bloom and bloom.")
Riding in the car home from the grocery store, he asked after some quiet minutes, "Mom, when you turn off a light, where does the electricity for that light go?" Now, have I ever thought of that? No. Do I know? No. Have I ever cared to know? Actually, not really. David's child.
(I told him he would have to ask his dad about that one. So we called David when we got home and I heard Cal ask, and David's answer apparently provoked a follow-up question, "And what if all the lights in the house are off? Where does all the electricity from all those lights go?")
So, the summary of genetic manifestation in Calvin: Inclinations toward the delicious, fattening, aesthetic or sentimental - Me. Inclinations toward acquiring unprecedented amounts of information and knowledge on how or why everything and everyone does what they do - David.
A question that has surfaced a few times in the past couple weeks which David has handed over to me for the answering is, "How does the baby get out?"
I don't really have a problem answering these kinds of things, and long ago determined to be as up front and clear about answering questions like this in an age appropriate manner whenever my kids are asking. But I've put off this discussion for a bit because of visions in my head that my knowledge-imparting (David's child) four-year-old will share everything he knows about the birth canal to his Primary class at church just as the room gets really quiet...
Anyway, the subject was covered today because he caught the last bit of A Baby Story on TLC. I kinda did it on purpose, letting him see that. Maybe not the best strategy, but he's my first child and keeps asking, so I know he needs to know. And he took it all in stride, without an excessive amount of shock or disgust or whatever I was expecting. He actually seemed fairly impressed.
Which is why he needed to share the info at dinner with his Dad, who he knows enjoys great and interesting pieces of knowledge. So as we were finishing talking about the opening that mommies have that stays really small until the baby has grown big enough to be born and then it opens up to let the baby out, he concluded excitedly, "And then the lady counts to ten lots of times and the baby just comes out!" Yep. "Babies are pretty messy when they're first born. But they're so cute and tiny!" A little pause, then, "But how come only mommies get to have babies? What do men get to do?"
Now THAT is a question that unfortunately few people have ever posed or really considered. I love how my boy thinks, and that he really made me understand in a moment that being a woman and being able to have a baby is one of the most powerful, priceless and precious gifts of life.
And then there is the question today I had no answer for. Cal even prefaced it with, "I've been thinking of this one question...that I just don't know." I thought, Uh-oh. Here it comes. But having been successful with the baby getting out conundrum, I asked him what was on his mind. He asked, genuinely perplexed, "How can ONE person take care of TWO boys?" I told him, smiling to myself, that I honestly do not know. So he asked his dad.
His dad told him that the person had to be a superhero.
I love these guys.
Does this not just scream, "Code Yellow Boys"? I think so. From Target. And in yellow. How appropo, huh?
I especially like the customer review that says this toy helps to keep the basement clean because the kids want the floor to be clear to use it.
But what I love most is the daydream of me, about eight months pregnant, taking the boys out for a roll in it at the park. Two in a giant cushioned ball and one in a giant cushioned belly.
And other kids lining up to pay admission so they could also have a turn. It's beautiful.
And can you imagine the 84" red one?!
I'm giddy, I tell you, just thinking about it. Giddy.
Um...my head is still full of muck and I think Henry feels even worse than I do - muck in the head and a stomach virus of some sort to boot. He says he has "knots" in his nose, and I've changed more blowout diapers in the last two days than I think I did when he was newborn. And David has changed just as many.
We watched the Super Bowl at Auntie S's (poor, poor Bears) last night and Henry had a blowout while we were there so he borrowed a pair of Lily's "footie" pajamas - they are white with bubblegum pink polka dots all over them and a princess crown applique on the front.
He crawled into my room this morning with his blankie and couldn't muster enough umph to get up on my bed, so he laid down beside it and didn't want me to talk to him or pick him up or anything. He just whimpered every few minutes that he doesn't like his nose. It's a very sad thing to see am otherwise busy boy dressed in pink, listlessly cuddling with his blankie. And smelling to high heaven.
We were both kinda waiting for Calvin to wake up and fix us breakfast and do the laundry and fumigate the house. Until I remembered he's only four years old. And he will probably be mucky with the rest of us soon. Oh yeah, and I'm the mom. Bummer.
This either means that I'll be too busy nursing and recouping to blog, or that you'll hear more from me in the next few days than you have in a month because I can't muster the wherewithal do anything but sit at the computer...I guess we'll see.
I gotta go shower a boy and rinse out some pink polka dot pajamas now.
UPDATE: Here are the pajamas. Washed and back on for another go-round after every other pair in the house also required washing by the end of today...Henry's blowout diapers took a turn for throwing up. Another carseat cleanout. He's not running a fever or anything...just a crazy bug that he's trying to get out. But it's messy and I feel the need to sanitize the whole place. And hope against hope that Cal will not get this yuckiness. Me? I'm actually feeling a little better. We may just be on the mend...
So, on Christmas Eve a little head cold descended upon me and I still hadn't completely shaken it by about mid-January...mostly a cough but interspersed with lovely sinus pressure and tremendous headaches. It finally abated this last week, and just Wednesday I was saying to Auntie S that the "coffas" (that's what Henry calls coughs) had finally gone away.
I have these big plans for painting three rooms of our house and organizing an office space and a baby's area. And maybe catching up on laundry and getting David to clean the bathrooms...
When what to my wondering nose should appear
but oodles of snot and aches in my ears,
And a scratchy old cough so wracking and sharp
that I'm quite sure my body is falling apart...
I think what's most frustrating is that all the OTC cough medicines are watered down versions these days because of the punks who used the regular ones to get high, so the things that my OB says are OK to take are actually extra OK because they don't do diddly squat for any of my symptoms.
So I got grouchy and took a dose of Nyquil last night without consulting my doctor. (gasp!)
And I woke up when it wore off thinking, well - it got me a little bit of good rest. Wow! I feel like I can do another day...I just hope it won't cause me to give birth to a tap-dancing penguin.
In more cheerful news, I think I am in love with the Take Home Chef. He is cute. And the food he makes? Actually gives me some cravings, which is a wonderful sensation. I have been bereft of cravings this whole pregnancy - an unheard-of phenom in my sweet-tooth driven life.
While it is nice to weigh two pounds less at the half-way point than I did pre-pregnancy(also unheard of in my experience), eating just because I know it's necessary for life is not really all it's cracked up to be.
So, yeah. Thanks to Curtis Stone, I want me some fruit pizza with creme fraiche and berries, sprinkled with chocolate shavings. And someone to make it for me. Now. And that feels normal, if not great, to me.
Yep, I'm starting to feel more and more stereotypical crazy pregnant lady, and it's kinda fun. Like, I was thinking yesterday it's a good idea to find a name for Boy in my junk-mail inbox. I mean, they are sheer poetry. I'd want to use the first and last names together in most cases.
Check it out - I really think the 64 spam messages I got yesterday made Cabbage Patch birth certificates, baby name books and search engines totally obsolete for expectant parents. Here's a sampling of the awesome names any young boy would be happy to call his own: Tyrell Swasey. Jarvis Lovell. Amadi Dewey (I'd call him Dewey). Angus Nickerson.
And the girl names are even more beautiful, even if you decide not to use the last names as middle names. Despoina Buescher. Cleisthenes Ang.
I mean, these are enough to make me give up my penchant for Greatest Generation names and go junk mail. The only drawback is never really being able to tell my son what the person he's named after was trying to peddle via mass e-mail.
But hey, I took Nyquil while he was in utero. If he can overcome that, he can overcome being called Suzette Maurice. Right?
I am apparently totally oblivious and I feel real silly, but a huge (tiny bit belated) THANK YOU for sharing the love with me.