Snips and Snails and Puppydog Tails

The crayons were a huge hit today! After Sam finished breakfast this morning, I unveiled his new treat. I taped a piece of paper to his high chair tray (so it wouldn’t move around so much – thank you for the tip, random parenting article that I can’t recall anything else about right now) and showed him the crayons. He’s not completely new to crayons: he’s gotten them at restaurants once or twice, and I’m pretty sure he’s played with them at school. Still, these were new crayons, so he had to inspect them first. Once I reminded him how they worked, and he realized that these fat crayons fit his little hands pretty well, he went to town!

These things are SO fun!

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Today I had to go to Walmart. I needed ONE item that I couldn’t get at my local Kroger.

Sort of a necessity for a swimming playgroup.

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Caleb likes to take pictures. Often he does self portraits. These self portraits are extreme closeups, like the one below.

Caleb, August 2011

It’s a good thing he’s so cute, right? When I saw this picture, it immediately reminded me of an extreme closeup that Daddy actually took a few years ago, when we took the boys to ride the Polar Express in Rusk, TX with my parents and my sister’s family.

Caleb, December 2008

So, you tell me, what does 2.5 years’ difference make?

Sam loves to pretend he’s one of the Big People by putting on Daddy’s or Bubba’s or Bear’s hats. He recently discovered our shoes, too. In Texas, it is apparently required to get a picture of your small child playing in someone’s cowboy boots. We don’t own cowboy boots (Bryan might have some in the depths of our closet, but I’m afraid to go searching for them; I might get lost forever in there), so Sam has started playing with the next best shoe type. . . Mommy’s high heels.

Oooh! Mommy's shoe!

Hmm...these things are harder to get on than Mommy makes it look!

Maybe if I get a little better leverage. . .

SUCCESS! (sort of)

Today, Texas Health Resources Momblog posted a submission of mine about being present in the moment. This is something I’ve really been struggling with lately, and I think maybe this weekend was a sort of breakthrough, though entirely unintended. Part of the time we were just too busy for me to even think about somehow recording the events. Then, when I did think about it, I was either unsure of where the camera was and didn’t want to miss things by searching for it, or I was simply having too much fun enjoying all the cute things the kids were doing to even care! Do those circumstances count as conscious decisions to be present in the moment?

How do you balance wanting to record special moments and wanting to really be present in the moment and enjoy it? I welcome any and all suggestions! 🙂

Fun with drumsticks

Well, as you can tell from my last post, Sam has hit 15 months and had his necessary checkup. He was not the happiest of campers at the doctor. Normally he’s happy and charming until it’s time for shots. But at this appointment, he screamed at the stethoscope touching his skin and being laid down to be measured and just examined. When we got to the shots, he held his breath till he turned purple and cried and cried and cried until we had him re-dressed and were leaving the doctor’s office. Not his best appointment, charm-wise, but he’s healthy and right on track, developmentally. Continue Reading »

Sam’s vocabulary is growing like crazy. At his 15-month checkup, I actually voiced concern about his language skills. (For the record, his Daddy thought I was silly to be concerned.) I thought his language seemed a little behind some of the kids in his class. The first question the doctor asked was his age in comparison to the others in the class (he’s on the young side), and if the class was mostly girls (yes). She reminded me that girls just talktalktalk really early. Then she asked several questions about whether we thought he could hear us (yes, when he chooses to), is he mimic-ing us, babbling, etc. It wasn’t until she asked if he had at least 5 words and we started listing them that I realized just how long his list of words is. And that I needed to start writing them down. So, without further ado, here’s a (non-inclusive) list of words he has right now. These are in no particular order other than however my feeble mind could remember them. New words seem to be added every day, so if you know of some I’ve forgotten, please let me know in the comments! Continue Reading »

Okay, okay, I’ll admit I’m sometimes a judgy-mom when it comes to other people’s children’s haircuts (did’ja follow that?). I admit to wondering why anyone would CHOOSE to let their son (or daughter, I suppose) look like a mini-thug with a mohawk or dreds or what-have-you. On the other hand, I do know that some battles aren’t worth fighting, and that hair grows back. And, I gotta admit, some of the boys’ friends look dang cute with their mohaws and faux-hawks and Bieber-type haircuts.

Bryan has thick, course hair that would be rather curly (I think) if he let it get longer. Jacob has wonderfully thick, soft, gorgeous brown hair. Caleb has beautiful, dark brown hair that’s very fine in texture, but he likes it short so it stays manageable. Sam, unfortunately, seems to have inherited my hair. It’s blonde, like mine was as a child, and very wispy, and until recently, he really hasn’t had much of it. Note that I said, “until recently.” Bryan used to tease me that on Sam’s first birthday, we’d go get his first haircut. “NO!” I would cry. “It’s just started growing in; he doesn’t have enough to cut; he’s still too little for a haircut!” I would argue. But, well, after Jacob did this to Sam’s hair (playing), I really couldn’t argue against a haircut anymore.

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Have you ever heard the poem “Babies Don’t Keep?” Most people probably at least know the last two lines of “So quiet down cobwebs, Dust go to sleep. I’m rocking my baby, and babies don’t keep.” I’ve always loved those lines, and the whole poem (which I’ll put below) chokes me up every. single. time. I read it. I loved the poem before I was a mommy. I loved it even more when I became a stepmommy, and ever since Sam came along, it’s almost like a mantra to me. It’s especially haunting after a day when I KNOW I’ve been too focused on stuff that doesn’t matter – laundry, housework, work-work.

I just can’t seem to get the poem out of my head lately. Maybe it’s because he’s growing up so fast. Every day we get new words, new claims of his independence, and new skills. He’s learning so much, so fast. He’s rocketing out of baby-hood and into full-on toddler-hood much faster than I’m comfortable with. Maybe the poem is also resonating because I recently learned that it was originally published under the title “Song for a Fifth Child.” While Sam isn’t the fifth child, unless Daddy has a change of heart/mind, he’s likely our last. And I hate that he’s growing up so fast. I hate that Jacob and Caleb are growing up so fast. I want to just freeze time.

So, when I get extra cuddles, whether it’s because of a rough sleeping night, a boo-boo, an apology after a time out or just a drive by hug, I cherish them. When I get the great big, I-forgot-how-big-and-grown-up-I-really-am smiles and the oh-so-rare hug from my big boys, I cherish them. Because Babies, and Big Boys, Don’t Keep.

And I promised you the full text of the poem, so here it is:

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

-Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

The other night, Caleb fell asleep on the couch while we were watching a movie. Used to, when Caleb fell asleep on the couch, Daddy or I could just carry him up the stairs. Well, he’s a little too big for that now. Plus, he was still in his clothes. We woke him up and sent him upstairs to change into pjs, brush his teeth, and get into bed. All was quiet upstairs. After the movie was over, Jacob went upstairs for bed.

“Dad, Dad! You gotta come see Caleb! He’s asleep in his closet!”

[Me, looking over at Bryan] “Oh, you gotta take the camera up for this one.”

“No, YOU should bring the camera up with me.”

So I did. This is what we found.

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