Thanksgiving Recaptured

The day before Thanksgiving, my husband Paul and I busily tried to get things ready for the big feast. Both sides of our family were coming over, about 20 people. We were going to have Paul's parents watch the kids, but Ian had a bad cold, so only Laurel got to visit her grandparents. Poor Ian had to hang out with us while we cleaned house and prepped food. Not exactly a fun place to be for a toddler, even a sick one.

Turkey and turkey breast thawed and swimming in brine, check. House cleaned, check. Patio and patio furniture hosed off/cleaned, check. Traditional Thanksgiving treasure hunt for the kids created and gifts wrapped, check. Cornbread casserole made, check. Sweet potato casserole made, check. Waldorf salad made, check. (Family members were to bring other sides and dessert.) Appetizers ready, no check, except for the dip. At midnight, we decided this could wait until the following day and headed to bed.

Thanksgiving morning, we knew we still had a lot to do, but tried to relax a bit with Laurel and Ian. We turned on the parade. Laurel could care less, but Ian was excited to see the big balloons, floats and marching bands. TiVo helped keep it interesting for him. We happily skipped over the mindless chatter and commercials, and just watched what interested Ian. I don't know how we survived before TiVo.

Finally, Paul and I kicked our butts into high gear. Paul made a quick trip to the store, while I tried to set up tables. When he got back, I didn't get anything done except take care of the kids. He got the turkeys into the oven, and the ham into the roaster. When we put the kids down for a nap, I was finally able to set up the tables and hide the clues for the treasure hunt.

When the doorbell rang as the first of our families arrived, we had just started getting the appetizers set out, YIKES! In fact, I was still rinsing off veggies and making iced tea as we were saying hello to people. Mental note, make sure ALL food is prepped and ready the night before.

Thanksgiving day was a beautiful 80 degrees (Fahrenheit, 27 Celsius), so we ate outside. Our patio is long enough, that the 20 of us were able to sit altogether. Ian thoroughly enjoyed chatting with everyone during dinner, while Laurel decided it would be fun to blow raspberries with baby food in her mouth. Sorry to those sitting next to her.





Pictures of the family on one side...







...and the other side of the table. Still couldn't fit everyone into the frame. Sorry Diana, Sam, Papa Dave, Jimmy and Kathy (oh yeah, I'm also missing from the pictures since I had the camera).



Everyone had a great time. Paul and I feel especially lucky to have so much family living nearby. We love having everyone over.





During cleanup the following day, Ian decided to take the role of supervisor and tell us where to vacuum. Daddy, it's dirty over there.













Of course Laurel had to point out some of the mess too...









I think I've finally recovered from Thanksgiving. You know you're old when you have a holiday hangover and you didn't have a single drop of alcohol. I was walking around on autopilot Friday morning, until my body forced me to take a nap. And I do mean forced. I was feeding Laurel and Ian lunch, when suddenly I started crying for no particular reason. The waterworks started and I just couldn't get them to stop. I handed Laurel over to Paul and went straight to bed. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out. Three hours later, I woke up refreshed and energized. Look out Christmas, here I come!

Happy Holidays everyone!

Cancer Awareness

The American Cancer Society is sponsoring I Fight Cancer badges for bloggers. I've put one on my blog for my father (just look down the left sidebar). About three years ago, he found out he had bladder cancer. He successfully underwent aggressive treatment. Those rounds of treatment made him feel sicker than he ever has in his life, but thankfully has fought off the cancer within his body.

My family is lucky to have my dad still with us. My children are able to play with their grandfather, and I can still joke and laugh with him. I am so grateful that he is in our lives.

Thankfully, there are organizations such as ACS, that are researching new methods in treating and preventing cancer. If you or someone dear to you has dealt with cancer, add a badge to your blog to show your support. There's a counter on each badge that automatically increases as more and more people add them to their blogs. Let's get that counter rolling.

Losing It

You read my last post, yes? So you think our little boy is a saint? HA! You think I've got my mommy superpowers all lined up in a row? HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAAHAHAHAAAA!

Raising one child was cake. I could focus entirely on his needs. Consistent discipling was a top priority. Now with Laurel in the mix, it's a whole different story. Let's fast forward to a current example of disciplining meltdown:

Ian's playing with his trucks, while Laurel and I decide it's nursing time. I get situated with Laurel on one end of the couch, using the soft, pillowy arm for support. She latches on. It is peaceful, with the occasional beeping and rumbling truck sounds from Ian.

A couple minutes pass, Ian knows something's up. He springs into action and heads our direction. He sees Laurel and I on the couch and knows...absolutely, positively knows that he is in the presence of MILK! I can see the gears turning in his head and try to distract him, "Hi, Ian! Are you playing with your trucks?"

"Mommy, I need milk and Teletubbies."

Not wanting to disturb Laurel, I simply state, "You can have milk in a few minutes."

"Mommy, I NEED milk and Teletubbies."

"Yes, you can have milk once Laurel is finished."

He looks at Laurel. "Laurel's all done. I NEED MILK AND TELETUBBIES!"

Trying to be sympathetic to his needs, I stroke his arm with my one free hand while cradling Laurel with the other so she won't roll off my lap. "Hey, bud, you can have milk in a few minutes. Why don't you play with your trucks or trains." I'm really hoping he can be distracted by his toys.

"NO! I NEED MILK AND TELETUBBIES!" With that exclamation, he decides to get up on the couch. He tries to squeeze between my body and the couch's arm. His efforts cause my body to jostle about, unlatching Laurel who consequently rips my nipple off in the process. I'm in pain and I can feel my body getting tense.

"Ian, you can sit on the couch, just go to the other side." He continues to push and squirm his way up.

"Ian, go to the other side!" My voice is starting to rise. Still he tries to push himself up onto the couch.

I decide to move to the other side. Laurel grabs my shirt and hair as I slide over. Once situated, I try to relax and Laurel begins nursing again. Ian is now up on the couch watching us from the opposite end. It's not long and he slides over to us and tries to squeeze his body between my back and the couch. "Ian, stop that!" my voice getting louder.

He continues his shenanigans, and I desperately yell out, "Ian, get down or you'll go to time out!"

The pushing and shoving continues. I hoist Laurel and I up again to move to the rocking chair where there is absolutely no room for Ian to try anything. He follows and decides to climb up into my lap with Laurel. "Ian, STOP THAT NOW!" I've lost it and my voice is shrill. Laurel is startled and begins to cry, soon followed by Ian.

I feel like a total heel. I cuddle and try to comfort both of them, wailing screams ring in both my ears. Once they both calm down, I go to the fridge, get Ian a sippy cup of milk, and turn on Teletubbies. He settles in and I am able to nurse Laurel once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reliving this horrifies me. It is absolutely unacceptable for me to lose my temper with a two year old. I made so many mistakes, and I often think of how I should have done things differently. For example, knowing how much Ian loves milk (and it's not like he's asking for soda), I should have thought ahead to get him a cup to drink while Laurel was nursing. Just the milk would have pacified him, no TV necessary. Another big boo-boo, was threatening time out. There was no follow through, and unfortunately I've let that happen too often. I need to be consistent in order for it to work.

The good news, I am continually learning from my mistakes. And, thanks to the blogosphere, I read about others' dilemmas and find out what did and didn't work. Those of you out there sharing discipling problems, successes and techniques, I send you a humongous hug and thank you.

I'm a firm believer: It takes a village to raise a child.

Time Out: Pre-Laurel

I'm in the kitchen making dinner. Ian walks in, looks up at me and sincerely states, "Mommy, time out."

"Do you need to go to time out?"

"Mommy, time out two minutes."

Confused, I squat down and ask, "Why do you need to go to time out?"

Solemn look on his face, he explains, "I touch DVDs."

I don't know if he actually touched the off limit items, I was too busy chopping onions to notice. But I figure if he's willing to admit guilt, then in all fairness, I need to follow through with our established rules and consequences. Matter of factly I remind him, "Ian, you are not allowed to touch the DVDs, time out two minutes."

I place him in time out, set the timer for two minutes and continue making dinner. He accepts his consequence without tears or shrill screams. Two minutes seems like an eternity when you just want to pick up your child and give him a bear hug. I'm so proud of him for doling out consequences to himself. It shouldn't be too long and he'll avoid touching the ever tempting DVD cases altogether.

Beep...beep...beep.

His sweet little voice sings out, "All done."

I walk over to him, bend down to look him in the eye and say, "You are in time out for touching the DVDs. Do not touch the DVDs. Say, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, Mommy."

I pick him up and give and receive a huge hug. A quick peck on the cheek and he's off to play, to cause more mischief, to test the waters.

Baby Signs

Ian and I took the Baby Signs class when he was 8 months old. Results were slow at first. It wasn't until he was 10 months old he began signing milk. Other words soon followed: eat, drink, duck, frog, bath, moon, book, more, to name a few. Both my husband and I enjoyed communicating with our son at such an early age, and felt it alleviated a lot of frustrations within Ian. He had an outlet to let us know what he wanted or was thinking about.

At 9 months, Laurel began the Baby Signs class. Within a couple tries, she was already mimicking and soon meaning milk. Just the other day, she let out a delightful little squeal in order to get my attention. I looked over at her and squealed back. She stopped crawling, sat up, looked right at me, held up her little arm and opened and closed her fist. I asked her, "Do you want milk?" Her head bobbed excitedly as she continued signing milk.

Wow, she is telling me what she wants. No screams, no tears, just clear communication. In the last couple of weeks, she has learned to sign duck, bath, moon, more, light, and bye-bye. Her sweet face lights up every time she signs something and we verbally talk to her about it. Ian loves to get right in there and show her the signs too. He'll even take her hands and demonstrate how a word is done. Paul and I definitely will need to keep up with the two of them, otherwise it won't be long before Ian and Laurel will be talking in front of us without us having a clue as to what they're saying.

We're Going to be on Time...NOT!

One of my biggest challenges as a mommy with two in tow, is trying to be on time. Doctor's appointments, dentists, tot classes, family and friend gatherings, you name it, I'm going to be a few minutes late.

One morning, I decide we WILL make it to Ian's tot class on time. Knowing I need to check Laurel into the daycare center they provide at the recreation center, I figure out exactly what time we need to leave by. Now, if I actually try to leave at that time, I will most likely be late. No, I need to come up with a time that takes into account all the things that might possibly go wrong:

• Let's start with diapers. Add 5 minutes to change one, two, maybe even three or more diapers. You're puzzled, two children and she might need to change three or more diapers? Yes, there is a history with Laurel pooping right after I just changed her.
• Next, possible clothes changes. This goes hand-in-hand with diapering. Someone just might squirt something out while the protection is off. And it might not be the kids who needs a change, it may very likely be me. Add 5 more minutes.
• An additional 2 minutes is calculated in case Laurel spits up on my shirt as we walk out the door.
• Add 10 minutes for nursing. Laurel tends to be a spur of the moment drinker.
• 5 more minutes to gather items I thought were placed on the bookshelf by the door. Ian, where did you put _____________ this time?
• 3 additional minutes for Ian to put his shoes and socks back on.
• 3 additional minutes for me to chase Ian around the house and put his shoes and socks on for him.
• 1 minute to get out the door and lock it.
• 1 minute to open the van and strap Laurel into her car seat. I'm lucky here, she's fairly easy going about being strapped in.
• 3 minutes to continually encourage Ian to climb into his car seat, and then buckle him in.
• Add 5 more minutes for ???? Anything goes where children are concerned.

Ok, let's add this up. Hmmm, could this be right? 43 additional minutes? Ian's class starts at 9:45. I need to be at the rec center by 9:30 so I have time to check Laurel in at daycare. It takes 20 minutes to drive there and 5 minutes to park, unbuckle both kids and walk them into the building. I must leave the house by 9:05, except I still need to account for the unexpected. 8:22 is my new time of departure.

The morning is going well. Both kids have had their breakfasts. Laurel takes an early morning siesta while I get Ian ready. Teeth and hair brushed, diaper changed, fully clothed (socks and shoes included, although who knows for how long), Ian is set. Laurel wakes up, and I begin attending to her needs.

I nurse her, change her diaper (whew, only one needed so far, and I can keep wearing my outfit), get her dressed, and then excitedly pick her up to grab Ian and head out. I look at the clock, we're doing great. We walk out of her room and I happily chirp away to her, "Laurel, we're going to be..."

"BBLLLLAAaaaachhhhhh!" And with that, Laurel vomits all over me, her, the carpet, the wall.

We're not going anywhere today.

Halloween Time Warp

Is it possible? I blinked, and Halloween came and went.

Ian is officially a fan of Halloween. We have some books about growing pumpkins and Halloween festivities. His favorite book is Trick-or-Treat, Little Critter by Mercer Mayer. For the last two weeks, we've read that book everyday at nap or bedtime, or both. We always tell Ian a fly by the seat of your pants short story just before going to sleep at night. He always requests a garbage truck story, but lately he's demanded a trick-or-treat one.

Of course, it wouldn't be Halloween without a jack-o-lantern, and the accompanying whining of a toddler during the creative process. "Ian do it," kept ringing through our ears as we cut into the beloved pumpkin. One of us needed to restrain Ian from grabbing the knife.

At least he thoroughly enjoyed taking out the seeds and gooey pumpkin guts.

Laurel peeked inside and let us know in no uncertain terms, she wanted no part of it.

Spooky, yes? He turned out pretty good, especially for us amateur pumpkin carvers.







Both sets of our parents came over, along with Ian's friend Riley and her parents. With all the people over, and trick-or-treaters ringing the doorbell, Ian got overly excited and just could not sit long enough to eat dinner. I finally had to place him (more like wrestle and hog tie him) in Laurel's highchair in order to get him to eat a few bites. Getting him dressed in his costume didn't go much easier. Too busy pushing Riley around in a car, he just would not willingly sit down to change his clothes. After much chasing, we finally cornered and dressed him. Finally, it dawned on him that it was time to go trick-or-treating, so out the door he bolts, leaving the rest of us in his dust.

At each door, Ian and Riley seemed hesitant. But the minute they saw the candy, the shyness dissipated. Just happy to be out and about, Laurel watched from either Paul's or my arms, taking notes for next year.

Well, hello there, Bob the Builder!

MOO!

She's What?

That's right, Laurel's pulling herself up. She's standing! She's cruising the furniture! She's getting hold of anything on the edges of tables. Better yet, she likes to hang off tables. The girl has more upper arm strength than I do. With both her and Ian upright, all I can say, is...

HELP!

Toddlers are Cute for a Reason

...otherwise, the human race would have been extinct long ago.

I'm actually taking a moment (or two) to pull some laundry out of the dryer. Laurel is playing nearby and Ian is playing with his trains, or so I think. I quickly try to get the shirts and pants on hangers, trying to avoid wrinkles, because once a garment is wrinkled in my house, it stays that way. I am seriously iron phobic.

As I busily hang clothes, I hear unfamiliar noises coming from Ian's direction. Scratch, scratch, scratch, repeatedly over and over again. "Ian must be rolling his cars and trains on the wall," I think to myself. Wanting to get the last few articles out of the dryer, I ineffectively yell out, "Ian, put your cars on the floor."

Ian's two years old. Without direct intervention on my behalf, he of course continues rolling the vehicles on the wall. Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. The sounds are becoming shorter in length, but quicker in repetition, so I finally give in and decide to intervene. I turn the corner around the staircase, walk into the living room and find Ian busily expressing his artistic self. Ball point pen in hand, he continues to draw line after line after line. For a minute, I stand there numb, observing this innocent act. Innocent? Yes, innocent. So far, the rule of not writing on the walls remains to be explained to this exploring tot.

Eventually, I regain my wits and grab his wrist mid stroke. The intent, focused look on his face fades as he turns and smiles at me. "Mommy, lines," he proudly points out.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Touching the stereo, yet again, Ian winds up in timeout. He is familiar with this routine, and accepts his consequence without a single whimper. Squatting down to be at his eye level, I matter-of-factly state, "Ian, you are in timeout for touching the stereo. You are not allowed to touch the stereo." I stand up, set a timer for two minutes and walk away.

Two minutes later, beep, beep, beep. "All done," a little voice sings out.

I walk back to Ian's residence of reflection to hear his apology. Before I squat down, something next to him catches my eye. "What is that on the floor?" I ponder.

Bits of paper lie in a pile beside the kitchen cabinet. "Ian, did you tear up a newspaper?" I ask since the recycle bin was within reach.

"Mommy, paper come off wall," he points out.

Then I see it, a now white area where there once was wallpaper.



Trying to look innocent are ya? Yeah, you're cute, darn it. Just don't push it. These actions won't fly ever again.

Playing at the Pumpkin Patch

Ian looking like a farmer in his overalls.

Ian braved the tunnel slide.
Whoooooaaaaa, look out below.

Ian won't touch the goats, but he desperately wants to climb their ramp.

Gotta have corn on the cob!

Laurel and Riley, a friendship blooms.

Pumpkins, pumpkins, everywhere!

Oh, little pumpkin, you will be mine.

This is the one!

Riley found one too!

Laurel, happy as a PUMPKIN!

Taggies Scam

As parents, we have all observed our children's fascination with tags. Found on clothes, blankets, stuffed animals, anything, tags are tempting to say the least for those pudgy little fingers to manhandle. They're also great to chew on. When Ian was a baby, I observed him go to town on every tag within reach. Of course, Laurel does the same. With this knowledge, I anxiously purchased a taggie book full of sown in tags made from pretty ribbons. I was absolutely positive Laurel would love it, that she would spend hours of the day manipulating all the silky tags found on the edges of each page in the soft book.

I could never have been so wrong...





What is this thing? Is it a book? Is it a blanket?

I mean really mom, what is the point of this thing? I just don't get it.

Now this thing I know. This I play with all the time. See look, this is what should be all around this book/blanket/thingy.

Oh, bother. I'm bored, it's just not worth my time.

Nay-oh

Our little family lives in Arizona, and yet our little guy sounds like he's from Georgia. All of a sudden, he's adding in extra vowels and syllables. No has become nay-oh. Milk has become may-ulk. Go has become gay-oh. At first, I thought it was because of his cold, but the cold has gone and the accent has remained.

My husband wonders if at least the nay-oh might be Ian's little mind dealing with our prohibition of the word no. When Ian attempts to assert his toddlerness and refuse to do something, we remind him that saying no means he goes to timeout. Still, that doesn't explain the may-ulk and the gay-oh, and other words that just don't come to mind at the moment.

Color Whiz

Me: Hey Ian, what color is my hair?

Ian: (Long pause)...red!

(I hate to admit it, but there is some red despite my best efforts for blond. What can I say, my color comes from a box.)

Me: Hmmm, what color is your hair?

Ian: (Looks puzzlingly in the mirror.) Gray.

(This is actually a pretty good answer considering his hair is mostly dark blond with some streaks of light.)

Me: What color is Daddy's hair?

Ian: Gray! (Yep, and I know who helped make it that way.) Black. (There you go!)

Me: What color is Laurel's hair?

Ian: Silver, silver like the van.

Ok, wow, I'm impressed. He's all of 27 months, and he's using similes. Way to go little man!

Roll, roll, roll your body, Gently on the floor...

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Let's do this some more.
(So, so sorry. Lame, I know, but this tune keeps going through my head and I'm trying to find an outlet before I go crazy!)

Seven month old Laurel has been mobile for a couple of months now. She's not quite crawling, in fact, we thought for sure she was going to skip that step until this past week. She has only recently started creeping by dragging her belly, arms outstretched, and toe inching it forward. No, her mobility is not in crawling, but instead by rolling. She manages to get to any object or place her little heart desires by putting her body in full spin. Round and round she goes, where she stops, only Laurel knows.


She begins at the playhouse. So much to do here, but alas, she is a baby and her interest quickly wavers. She looks around for something more interesting and finds...








...rattles and all things chewable. One tooth in and another trying to emerge means TEETHING!









Looky, looky, a ball. Oooohhhh, and a stereo with gobs and gobs of buttons to push.









Score! Ian left his train out, and he's no where to be seen. Finally, she has a chance to play with it.









But wait, a container with all its contents still enclosed? This can not be...SPILL!








The destruction continues...











Mama, enough already with the camera and give me some sweet, nourishing booby juice! NOW!!!!!

It'll Stunt Your Growth, Kid

Being ever observant, Ian has picked up on my parents' coffee addiction. Dinosaur cup in hand, grin on face, twinkle in eye, he boldly states...








I is drinking coffee.
















I'm just not worth a damn until I've had my morning cup of joe juice.

(Lighten up there buddy, or I'm going to enroll you in a twelve step program.)





Question for all parents/care providers of toddlers: Why won't he eat the bread crust? I'm pretty sure he hasn't seen anyone do this, he just does it naturally. It's like a graveyard of crust remnants.

The only thought that comes to mind, is we've worked on not eating the rind off watermelon and cantaloupe. He might be overgeneralizing.

The Importance of Grandparents

Happy Belated Grandparent's Day!

Such an important day, and somehow I missed it.

Paul and I feel very lucky to have both sets of our parents live nearby. Our children get to be constantly loved by two Grandmas and two Papas. They are also lucky to have two Great-Grandmas and two Great-Grandpas that live in our state, but unfortunately, are far enough away we only see them two or three times a year.

Ian and Laurel's Grandparents give them experiences that Paul and I just would never be able to find time to do or think of. Conversations, play, stories, gardening, walks, shopping, road trips, songs, laughter, games, phone calls, anticipation, hugs and kisses are just some of the perks for our children.

I know Ian would not be the same person without the influence of his grandparents, and the same will be true of Laurel. It is simply amazing to watch our children interact with our parents. There is so much love between them. Everyday, Ian demands, "Go bye-bye, see Papa and Grandma." Whenever their visit at our house is over, and they leave without taking Ian home with them, he is heartbroken. He frequently tears through the house to grab the phone when he hears their voices. Oh how he loves to pretend objects are phones just so he can call Grandma and Papa to talk to them (a great diaper change distraction by the way). He also loves to look at photoalbums and delightfully point them out.

In addition to all the fun and laughter, grandparents play an important teaching role. They spend their time differently from us parents. Whether it be gardening, talking to family members abroad on the phone, shopping, road trips, or painting, all these activities are taught to our children that would otherwise be missed out on. The vocabulary and ideas Ian has learned thanks to his grandparents are abundant.

Let's face it, the importance of grandparents lies in the very love they feel towards their grandchildren. The hugs, kisses, and laughter make our children know they are important. So Papa and Grandma, go ahead, spoil and enjoy our babies. Let them stew in your love, and they'll turn out nice and juicy!

HAPPY GRANDPARENT'S DAY!





Papa Dave

Grandma Ann

Papa Chuck

Grandma Edie

Great-Grandma Eva

Great-Grandma Edith

Great-Grandpa Del

Great-Grandpa Ray

Ian's First Time Ever to the...

We are heading to Target, when I spontaneously decide to pass it up. That's right, you heard me, I drive right past our usual turn off, and head straight towards...the...LIBRARY! I don't know what triggered that decision in my brain, but next thing I know, I am parked and getting the stroller out for Laurel. I tell a confused Ian where we are, and what to expect...BOOKS!

I know, it's a crime that I haven't taken my 27 month old son to the library before this. I can hear my husband nodding in agreement (rattle, rattle), especially since I've been spending a small fortune buying books at the stores and online. What can I say, I use to be a teacher. Today, it dawns on me as we are driving to Target, that a person could actually read and reread books (a mandatory activity for parents of todders) for free by checking them out at the library. Wow, what a concept...free, no, let me rephrase that...FREE! Well, umm, free that is, if I return them on time. We'll have to wait and see how that goes.

We walk into the children's section of the library, and Ian yells out, "Mommy, books. Books, mommy." He's very excited. Then he shouts, "Mommy, Bob the Builder!" as he points to a humongous quilt displaying said character. My little man's hooked and I now know what kind of book to look for. Laurel just blankly stares at the new surroundings.

I aim the stroller towards the board book section, figuring if we check out books for Ian, I want to make sure they won't rip. The section was certainly easy enough to find, I just followed the sounds of a crying youngster. Ian spots kids playing with wooden puzzles and bead mazes, and runs ahead of me to join in the fun. I realize he's not going to be interested in books for a while, so I let him play. Nearby is a bookshelf that I skim. I start pulling books that I think Ian and/or Laurel will be interested in. Then I spot it, a huge Scoop (from Bob the Builder) board book. Perfect!

I sit down on the floor with Ian and begin reading. "Mommy, again, read Scoop book again."

Success! Ian wants to read this book instead of playing. I barely start reading the book again, when out of nowhere two other eager young fellows show up and try to grab the book out of my hands. Easily enough, I convince them to sit down and join us in the story. The last page is turned, and they all shout out, "Again!"

After the third reading, I decide to let Ian read the book on his own so I can continue looking through the rest of the board books. Unfortunately, one of the other boys grabs it out of Ian's hands and runs off. We never see Scoop again. Poor Ian. He doesn't cry, he just numbly sits there trying to figure out what just happened. What can I say, Ian's not in daycare or in a playgroup and isn't street wise yet.

Laurel starts to get restless and begins crying, cueing that it is time to go. We go to the counter, get Ian's first ever library card (a significant milestone in my opinion), and check out the books on his card. Home we head to read, reread, and rereread these wonderful little treasures.


For the curious:
Ian's favorite book we checked out is School Bus by Donald Crews. We already own Truck and Freight Train by Crews, so I knew it would be a hit.




My favorite book we checked out is The Napping House by Audrey Wood, a sweet, funny story about the ongoing activity during a family's naptime.

Must Be a Full Moon

When I taught elementary school, we always seemed to be able to predict the weather and moon phases based on our students' behaviors. If our classes seemed wild, we knew either a full moon was due, or a storm was heading our way. Sounds silly, but it always seemed too coincidental.

Yesterday, after eating lunch, Laurel, Ian, and I head upstairs for our very routine naptime. Diapers changed, stories read, Laurel goes right to sleep. Ian, however, is restless. After an hour of getting him to settle down, I think he has fallen asleep and take the opportunity to jump into the shower.

Right as I'm rinsing out the conditioner in my hair, the bathroom door swings wide open, quickly followed by a bouncing, ecstatic Ian. He's smiling ear to ear. "Hi, mommy, hi!"

I decide to ignore him and continue with my shower. "Hi, mommy, hi!"

I still ignore him. Ian puts his determined, smiling face up against the transparent shower curtain and yells, "HI, MOMMY, HI!"

Holding fast, I continue giving him no response, hoping he'll give up and go back to his room. But then I hear something that needs my attention, Laurel is crying. No, make that Laurel is screaming.

Quickly, I rinse off any remaining soap, turn off the water, grab a towel and run past Ian towards Laurel's room. The second my eyes look inside her room, I only see white. There are baby wipes completely covering the floor. Walking on wet wipes, I peer into Laurel's crib. Her face is bright red from screaming. And no wonder, she's lying in the middle of towels, wash cloths, burp cloths, and blankets. Poor thing, buried alive. Fortunately, all these items are soft and light.

I scoop up Laurel and soothe her, while having Ian pick up the baby wipes, all the time repeating, "Baby wipes stay in the package, baby wipes don't go on the floor." This activity is followed by him putting all of Laurel's linens back into the drawer. It took every ounce of my strength to not laugh at Mr. Ian during all of this.

Yes, we had a storm last night, and double yes, there is a full moon tonight. Aye carumba!

Lesson via Ian-Style

It never ceases to amaze me, that it is we parents who are continually learning from our children.

Paul occasionally scores Diamondback baseball tickets through the company he works for. Ah, not just any tickets mind you, he gets Suite Tickets, and this time he got the entire suite! This includes three parking passes, two of which are reserved. All together now...sweet.

Paul needs to find bodies to fill the seats, not the easiest thing to do when the game is on a weekday afternoon. He calls friends and family. Fortunately, our friends Chris and Beth are able to go and bring along their daughter Riley. Ian now has a playmate for the game. Things are looking great!

Beth decides to stop by on her way home from work to pick up the tickets. I'm upstairs giving my dark and graying roots a salon treatment out of a box, while Paul watches the kids. Eventually, I hear Beth's voice and decide to say, hello. Looking down from the top of the staircase, I see Beth looking through Ian's toys and Paul looking at things around the room. Ian is excitedly running around the room wearing a huge smile. I'm curious, "Hi guys, what's going on?"

Puzzled and still scanning the room, Paul yells up, "Oh, I put Beth's tickets on the side table. I think Ian took them and put them somewhere."

Well, of course, naturally. Evidently, we still have not learned the age old lesson: anything within a toddler's reach should be considered GONE!

Trying to be helpful, I ask my happy-go-lucky son, "Ian, where did you put the tickets?"

Pointing at the den, he yells, "There!" He then bounces towards the den, Paul following close behind. No luck.

I try to think of all the places Ian has been interested in lately. Could the tickets be under the couch or between the cushions? In the trash or recycle bin? On the bookshelf? With his train set or car collection? Under the refrigerator or stove? In the VCR? In the air vent? In the toilet? Repeatedly the answer is no (thank goodness especially on that last one).

This could go on all night, so I tell Beth to take our tickets. We'll keep looking and hopefully find the others. We may have to put Ian under a bright light and interrogate him, but we'll find the tickets. Relunctantly, she takes our tickets and heads home.

Looking around the family room where the tickets were last seen, I repeatedly ask Ian, "Where are the tickets?"

He is all giggles as he points to different locations and delightfully squeals, "There!"

Paul and I search everyplace Ian directs us, but alas, no sign of baseball tickets. Finally it dawns on me, Ian spends a lot of time playing with items on the shelves by the laundry room. Extremely hopeful to solve this mystery, I practically run to the location and search under and between things on the shelves. I take my purse off the shelf and a stack of tickets falls to the floor. Oh glorious day, I found the tickets! A quick phone call to Beth to ease her worried mind, and then a hug for Ian for reminding us of yet another toddlerism.

Lesson learned, we do not put anything we want to see again on a surface that is shorter than four feet high. Of course, this height restriction will change as Ian grows, or when he learns to use a step ladder, chair, or similar object to get what he wants.

Ian and Laurel enjoying a walk during the 7th inning.

There's plenty of room to play in the suite. Give it up Ian, Riley just isn't interested in trading her cars for your space shuttle.