John's vocabulary has grown by leaps and bounds this week. He went from calling all his uncles (and male babysitter) "Kee-Kee" to calling them "Oncle." He even tried "Oncle Jeff." His aunts all became "Suey" since Aunt Sue was the first one he got down. Thus, "Aunt NaSuey" (Nancy) and Aunt Sasuey (Shannon).
Today, for the first time, he said "Maggie" very clearly. Later, he reverted to Sissy, but now it sounds nostalgic and cute. With encouragement, he also repeated James instead of saying Joey. And, he can put about anything he wishes (which is not everything) into a sentence, now.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
John the eating machine
Here is John with his birthday cake. Notice he takes no prisoners. Two fisted is the way to go.
Return to the scene of the crime
A few days later, we returned to the restaurant for breakfast. Before we could get through the door to find a table, John was marching around the counter again, grabbing another doughnut. Eating that didn't stop him from consuming 2 sausages, 2 scrambled eggs, 2 pieces of toast. And after the meal, when his siblings got doughnuts, he took another one. I think our food bill is in trouble in 10 years.
The very hungry caterpillar
I have to record this or I won't believe it myself in a few months. While at "the lake," we headed into town with the whole family. Left a couple of hours after breakfast so figured we could be home in time for lunch. On the way there, John got very hungry and ornery. We changed the plan and stopped at the restaurant for second breakfast.
John ate:
1 plate-sizzed slice of ham
1 piece of bacon
1 sausage link
2 scrambled eggs
2 pieces of toast
As I was paying for this, he noticed the pastry counter. He marched behind it, reached in the open door, and helped himself to a doughnut. He stuffed half of it in his mouth before anyone even reached him.
That afternoon, John took a very good nap.
John ate:
1 plate-sizzed slice of ham
1 piece of bacon
1 sausage link
2 scrambled eggs
2 pieces of toast
As I was paying for this, he noticed the pastry counter. He marched behind it, reached in the open door, and helped himself to a doughnut. He stuffed half of it in his mouth before anyone even reached him.
That afternoon, John took a very good nap.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Potty training woes
Happiness is NOT...when the 24-month-old that I put to bed 30 minutes earlier appears standing next to me stark naked, holding his diaper in his hand, saying, "Mama, I go pee!" Would that be past, present, or future tense, I wonder instantly?
Maggie sends emails to James
James and Maggie each have their own gmail accounts, now. They don't use them much, of course. But when one gets on, the other wants to. Today, Maggie wanted to send lots of emails to James. Since she can't type (or read, for that matter) I take dictation for her. I thought these emails were worth immortalizing in my blog.
margaret to james July 16 11:30 AM
Dear James,
On the next Christmas, I might give you a present. It's pretty likely that I will. It's pretty likely that you'll like it. I like it that you care and love for people. I hope you'll give me a present on my birthday and Christmas. Dear James, I love you. It's so nice to be your sister.
Love, Maggie
margaret to james July 16 11:31 AM
Dear James,
I hope you like Star Wars movies. I like Star Wars movies. Maybe we can watch some at home if it's okay with Mom and Dad. I would be happy to watch one with you if it's okay with Mommy and Daddy. I like how you care for us and I will help you care for John. I like you and I love you so next Christmas I'll give you a present.
margaret to james July 16 11:33 AM
Boo! Boo! Boo!
James, those are all ghosts saying "Boo!" I hope you aren't afraid of ghosts!
Boo! Boo! Boo!
James, those were ghosts, too. Tell me if you're afraid of ghosts or not. Send me an email when you are on your email account and tell me if you are afraid of ghosts. Thank you.
Love, Maggie
margaret to james July 16 11:30 AM
Dear James,
On the next Christmas, I might give you a present. It's pretty likely that I will. It's pretty likely that you'll like it. I like it that you care and love for people. I hope you'll give me a present on my birthday and Christmas. Dear James, I love you. It's so nice to be your sister.
Love, Maggie
margaret to james July 16 11:31 AM
Dear James,
I hope you like Star Wars movies. I like Star Wars movies. Maybe we can watch some at home if it's okay with Mom and Dad. I would be happy to watch one with you if it's okay with Mommy and Daddy. I like how you care for us and I will help you care for John. I like you and I love you so next Christmas I'll give you a present.
margaret to james July 16 11:33 AM
Boo! Boo! Boo!
James, those are all ghosts saying "Boo!" I hope you aren't afraid of ghosts!
Boo! Boo! Boo!
James, those were ghosts, too. Tell me if you're afraid of ghosts or not. Send me an email when you are on your email account and tell me if you are afraid of ghosts. Thank you.
Love, Maggie
Tired baby
John sat in my lap, just after waking from a nap. He wore his fiercest scowl, but only half-heartedly because he was so tired. He gave many long, slow blinks, looking as if he hoped he could blink enough so that he could open his eyes and discover he was really still asleep.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Vocabulary of Maggie
"Dad, can a person in a wheelchair go down the steps?"
"No, they use a ramp, or an elevator."
(Long pause.) "What's a ramp?"
"It's an inclined plane."
"Oh!" (Relief and understanding flood Maggie's face.)
This one is really not her parents' fault. She learned all about inclined planes at age 3, at her daycare center (Aquinas College Child Development Center).
A few days later, in a plaintive tone:
"Mom, when can James and I have an inclined plane to play on?"
"You have already had lots of them."
"When?!"
"When you lay the camping mattresses over the stairs and slide yourselves or toys down them."
"Oh, yeah!" (Big smile of contentment.)
"No, they use a ramp, or an elevator."
(Long pause.) "What's a ramp?"
"It's an inclined plane."
"Oh!" (Relief and understanding flood Maggie's face.)
This one is really not her parents' fault. She learned all about inclined planes at age 3, at her daycare center (Aquinas College Child Development Center).
A few days later, in a plaintive tone:
"Mom, when can James and I have an inclined plane to play on?"
"You have already had lots of them."
"When?!"
"When you lay the camping mattresses over the stairs and slide yourselves or toys down them."
"Oh, yeah!" (Big smile of contentment.)
James: Self-portrait, age 6
We are cleaning the kids' rooms today. Beyond shoving the junk under beds and in closets, we are trying to actually purge. But, before recycling a poster I ran across, I wanted to record the contents.
James made the poster as part of an activity at Gilda's Club in the spring of 2008, when he was 6 years old. The poster had fill in the blank statements pasted on, along with cut-out pictures from magazines. So, here is James, in his (partially) own words, at age 6:
If I had a magic wand, I would wish for: my own genie lamp
If I had an ice cream factory, I would make a new flavor called: Tiger Swirl
One day I hope to: be a marine biologist, historian, paleontologist, astronomer, or Egyptologist, or study insects.
The cartoon character most like me is: Mike from Fetch [with Ruff Ruffman; a kids' reality TV show on PBS]
My favorite time of day is: school, because: I can see my friends.
If I could guest star on any TV show it would be: Fetch
James made the poster as part of an activity at Gilda's Club in the spring of 2008, when he was 6 years old. The poster had fill in the blank statements pasted on, along with cut-out pictures from magazines. So, here is James, in his (partially) own words, at age 6:
If I had a magic wand, I would wish for: my own genie lamp
If I had an ice cream factory, I would make a new flavor called: Tiger Swirl
One day I hope to: be a marine biologist, historian, paleontologist, astronomer, or Egyptologist, or study insects.
The cartoon character most like me is: Mike from Fetch [with Ruff Ruffman; a kids' reality TV show on PBS]
My favorite time of day is: school, because: I can see my friends.
If I could guest star on any TV show it would be: Fetch
Friday, July 3, 2009
Mrs. Frisby and her children
Funny how context changes everything. A mouse in my house? Totally disgusting. I would be the first to put out the traps (though please don't make me empty them). But a mouse in my gardening shed? It is too reminiscent of all the propagandizing children's stories. I think of Beatrix Potter's friendly little mice families, or Mrs. Frisby (and the Rats of NIMH). A mouse just belongs in the gardening shed, and it would seem an improper violence to hurt her.
Of course, the image of the personified, loving mouse mama is built up by the fact that this mouse was with her family. It all began innocently enough. It was long past time to transplant the tomato plant to a bigger pot. Jeremy ventured into the shed for the leftover bag of potting soil. My attention was drawn from across the yard by the way he simultaneously jumped a foot in the air and grabbed John and tossed him backwards. Fortunately, it was not too fearsome a beast that had so startled Jeremy by moving from inside the bag of dirt.
Jeremy poked at the bag a bit until the mouse hopped out. What we hadn't expected was to see her baby clinging to her belly as she jumped, lightning quick, out of the bag and back into the depths of the shed. The kids kibbitzed a bit about the excitement and Jeremy turned again to pour out the dirt. The mouse was back already! Wondering what would lead to such quick persistence to occupy an obviously imperiled space, he looked more closely and discovered not one but four mouse babies nestled in the bag with their newly returned mom.
Now, what to do? I don't care what the species; who could hurt an infant? And almost worse, who could chase away a nursing mom, leaving the helpless infants to a slow and certain death? But, we needed the potting soil. And, Jeremy protested, these were pests; vermin infesting our shed and living fat on our bag of grass seed. Certainly we didn't want to nurture the next generation of them, as well?
Well, the kids were on the scene, so there was really no debating to be done, and Jeremy knew it. He set about first fishing out all the fluffy bits of fabric, grass, whatever, that the mama had collected into the potting soil bag to make a large soft nest. He transfered these back to the shelf next to the grass seed, where the bag of soil had been. One baby was found in the nest and went along for the ride.
For better or worse, our kids can count to four. That was only one baby mouse. I certainly didn't want to go fishing for critters, but I felt a bit creepy about having tiny baby mice buried in the pot with our tomato plant. This was one of those times that I am happy to be married to a man who doesn't mind playing the macho man when I need him to. Armed with thick leather work gloves, he began slowly pouring out the bag of soil, sifting throuh each layer.
"I see another baby!" shouted James. Sure enough, just when I thought the other three had simply vanished from the bag. Jeremy scooped it up with a bit more fluff and plopped it down with its sibling on the shelf. Now we knew there was hope if we kept looking, and the very last bit of dirt in the bag revealed baby number 4.
"I wanna see baby mouse! I wanna see baby mouse!" screamed John, in one of his most complete and clearly spoken sentences to date. Jeremy held up the poor, tiny thing for inspection - his eyes still closed and his mouth vainly searching for milk from his mother. Much as I am not an animal fan, it was hard not to root for the little guy when you saw him in that state. John demanded to see him back in his nest, where just a nose poked out of the pile of fluff.
Confident that we would not find an animal skeleton in our tomato pot, the transplant was quickly concluded. I shooed the kids inside to wash their hands for PBJ sandwiches while Jeremy cleaned up. He came in for lunch with a happy report - the mama mouse had been spotted running along the shelf near her newly transplanted nest and babies, and all should be well in the family again.
Now, if only they will stay outside and out of sight, so I don't regret encouraging (ordering?) Jeremy to spare them! They aren't nearly as cute as a cat, and I only tolerate those from a (non-sneezing) distance.
Such drama for a summer afternoon.
Of course, the image of the personified, loving mouse mama is built up by the fact that this mouse was with her family. It all began innocently enough. It was long past time to transplant the tomato plant to a bigger pot. Jeremy ventured into the shed for the leftover bag of potting soil. My attention was drawn from across the yard by the way he simultaneously jumped a foot in the air and grabbed John and tossed him backwards. Fortunately, it was not too fearsome a beast that had so startled Jeremy by moving from inside the bag of dirt.
Jeremy poked at the bag a bit until the mouse hopped out. What we hadn't expected was to see her baby clinging to her belly as she jumped, lightning quick, out of the bag and back into the depths of the shed. The kids kibbitzed a bit about the excitement and Jeremy turned again to pour out the dirt. The mouse was back already! Wondering what would lead to such quick persistence to occupy an obviously imperiled space, he looked more closely and discovered not one but four mouse babies nestled in the bag with their newly returned mom.
Now, what to do? I don't care what the species; who could hurt an infant? And almost worse, who could chase away a nursing mom, leaving the helpless infants to a slow and certain death? But, we needed the potting soil. And, Jeremy protested, these were pests; vermin infesting our shed and living fat on our bag of grass seed. Certainly we didn't want to nurture the next generation of them, as well?
Well, the kids were on the scene, so there was really no debating to be done, and Jeremy knew it. He set about first fishing out all the fluffy bits of fabric, grass, whatever, that the mama had collected into the potting soil bag to make a large soft nest. He transfered these back to the shelf next to the grass seed, where the bag of soil had been. One baby was found in the nest and went along for the ride.
For better or worse, our kids can count to four. That was only one baby mouse. I certainly didn't want to go fishing for critters, but I felt a bit creepy about having tiny baby mice buried in the pot with our tomato plant. This was one of those times that I am happy to be married to a man who doesn't mind playing the macho man when I need him to. Armed with thick leather work gloves, he began slowly pouring out the bag of soil, sifting throuh each layer.
"I see another baby!" shouted James. Sure enough, just when I thought the other three had simply vanished from the bag. Jeremy scooped it up with a bit more fluff and plopped it down with its sibling on the shelf. Now we knew there was hope if we kept looking, and the very last bit of dirt in the bag revealed baby number 4.
"I wanna see baby mouse! I wanna see baby mouse!" screamed John, in one of his most complete and clearly spoken sentences to date. Jeremy held up the poor, tiny thing for inspection - his eyes still closed and his mouth vainly searching for milk from his mother. Much as I am not an animal fan, it was hard not to root for the little guy when you saw him in that state. John demanded to see him back in his nest, where just a nose poked out of the pile of fluff.
Confident that we would not find an animal skeleton in our tomato pot, the transplant was quickly concluded. I shooed the kids inside to wash their hands for PBJ sandwiches while Jeremy cleaned up. He came in for lunch with a happy report - the mama mouse had been spotted running along the shelf near her newly transplanted nest and babies, and all should be well in the family again.
Now, if only they will stay outside and out of sight, so I don't regret encouraging (ordering?) Jeremy to spare them! They aren't nearly as cute as a cat, and I only tolerate those from a (non-sneezing) distance.
Such drama for a summer afternoon.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
John "Independence Day" Daniel
Funny how you can have three kids, think you raised them about the same, and yet they have totally different personalities.
John is, hands down, my independent child. He can wander happily about the house, entertaining himself for great lengths of time. At just 2 years old, he can outlast Maggie (nearly 5 years old) for self-sufficiency. (And James was no better than Maggie until he learned to read to himself.) But it doesn't stop with entertainment.
John helps himself to snacks. Our attempts to keep him out of the snack cupboard have been in vain. He broke the safety latch via sheer brute strength, and now just helps himself to raisins, crackers, granola bars, whatever. I have had to draw the line with his new trick, though. He now opens the fridge and pulls out whatever looks interesting - a dish of butter, a gallon of milk, a hot dog.
John also likes to be left alone to eat overnight. He climbs out of his bed, pads into my bed, and demands "milk-uh." When he has switched sides 2-4 times and is sated, he throws the covers back, cries out "My Bunk-y" and pads back to his own bed to go to sleep. Seriously. James and Maggie would eventually learn to sleep on their own, but they even now wouldn't voluntarily return to their own beds once ensconced in mine!
John is, hands down, my independent child. He can wander happily about the house, entertaining himself for great lengths of time. At just 2 years old, he can outlast Maggie (nearly 5 years old) for self-sufficiency. (And James was no better than Maggie until he learned to read to himself.) But it doesn't stop with entertainment.
John helps himself to snacks. Our attempts to keep him out of the snack cupboard have been in vain. He broke the safety latch via sheer brute strength, and now just helps himself to raisins, crackers, granola bars, whatever. I have had to draw the line with his new trick, though. He now opens the fridge and pulls out whatever looks interesting - a dish of butter, a gallon of milk, a hot dog.
John also likes to be left alone to eat overnight. He climbs out of his bed, pads into my bed, and demands "milk-uh." When he has switched sides 2-4 times and is sated, he throws the covers back, cries out "My Bunk-y" and pads back to his own bed to go to sleep. Seriously. James and Maggie would eventually learn to sleep on their own, but they even now wouldn't voluntarily return to their own beds once ensconced in mine!
Summer time, and the living is easy...
I am amazed at how well the kids are behaving this summer. With a very little bit of entertainment, they are being cheerful, helpful, and self-entertaining most of the time. Maybe the "old folks" are right about kids just needing more down time than they get in our times. With the stress of the school schedule off, they seem much happier.
James is really excited about gardening. He has always had an interest, but this summer, he is devoted. He is out every day watering, weeding, plotting. He has planted corn, beans, carrots, watermelon, pumpkin, cucumber. For his birthday he asked for two things - legos, and an azalea bush with yellow flowers.
James's enthusiasm has spilled over to John. For John's birthday, Grandma Di brought a plastic wagon pre-filled with sand toys. She had also purchased a few extra plastic gardening toys to add to the wagon before wrapping it for him. When John pulled off the wrapping paper, he squealed, grabbed the gardening rake, and ran (pell-mell) for the vegetable plot to begin raking, just as he had seen James doing. No doubts in his mind what the new tools were for. When Grandpa Glen hurried over and explained that he couldn't rake the plants that were sprouting because it "hurts the plants," John looked stricken and immediately looked down at the plants, saying "I sorry! I sorry!"
Maggie is on the cusp of learning to read. She can read some words already, but won't most of the time. She prefers to be read to, because she wants to hear chapter books and obviously can't manage those on her own. In fact, she complained the other day, "How come James has way more chapter books than I do?" I explained that she hadn't been interested in them for as long as James, but she looked dubious about that as an answer.
Jeremy picked out the Susan Cooper series to read to the big kids most recently. They both seemed to enjoy Over Sea, Under Stone and The Dark is Rising. That surprised me a bit, because I don't think Maggie understands most of the books, and James certainly not all of it. But they beg for more every night.
I am loving that this summer is more relaxed for us. I loved our travels last year, but I am also really enjoying having time to take all five of us for a bike ride to the ice cream store, or to swim lessons. I have been self-teaching myself piano from James's lesson books, and loving being able to really make some (elementary) music. The kids and I (Finally!) went strawberry picking - the first time since I had kids, I think. My fears that the kids would just whine to watch TV or play computer games all day has not born out, mostly. They actually play very well together, pretend games, and out in the yard, and with board games. We are all discovering enough time for them to enjoy the toys and games they have but never have the energy to use.
James is really excited about gardening. He has always had an interest, but this summer, he is devoted. He is out every day watering, weeding, plotting. He has planted corn, beans, carrots, watermelon, pumpkin, cucumber. For his birthday he asked for two things - legos, and an azalea bush with yellow flowers.
James's enthusiasm has spilled over to John. For John's birthday, Grandma Di brought a plastic wagon pre-filled with sand toys. She had also purchased a few extra plastic gardening toys to add to the wagon before wrapping it for him. When John pulled off the wrapping paper, he squealed, grabbed the gardening rake, and ran (pell-mell) for the vegetable plot to begin raking, just as he had seen James doing. No doubts in his mind what the new tools were for. When Grandpa Glen hurried over and explained that he couldn't rake the plants that were sprouting because it "hurts the plants," John looked stricken and immediately looked down at the plants, saying "I sorry! I sorry!"
Maggie is on the cusp of learning to read. She can read some words already, but won't most of the time. She prefers to be read to, because she wants to hear chapter books and obviously can't manage those on her own. In fact, she complained the other day, "How come James has way more chapter books than I do?" I explained that she hadn't been interested in them for as long as James, but she looked dubious about that as an answer.
Jeremy picked out the Susan Cooper series to read to the big kids most recently. They both seemed to enjoy Over Sea, Under Stone and The Dark is Rising. That surprised me a bit, because I don't think Maggie understands most of the books, and James certainly not all of it. But they beg for more every night.
I am loving that this summer is more relaxed for us. I loved our travels last year, but I am also really enjoying having time to take all five of us for a bike ride to the ice cream store, or to swim lessons. I have been self-teaching myself piano from James's lesson books, and loving being able to really make some (elementary) music. The kids and I (Finally!) went strawberry picking - the first time since I had kids, I think. My fears that the kids would just whine to watch TV or play computer games all day has not born out, mostly. They actually play very well together, pretend games, and out in the yard, and with board games. We are all discovering enough time for them to enjoy the toys and games they have but never have the energy to use.
John-ish (language rosetta stone)
John's speech is building up fast. It is hard to keep track of what he might be able to say now. He really has his own language right now:
"K-car" is "big truck"
"K-kuck" is "Fire truck"
"Sissy" is Maggie
"Joey" is James
"Boppa" is Grandpa
"Kee-Kee" is Uncle Jim (first), or any tall youngish man with a beard, second.
"tweet-tweet" is a bird, but he now recognizes robins as specific, and calls them "rob" (which then requires a rendition of "rocking robin" by the nearest adult, to avoid much screaming and unhappiness)
"-uh" is the universal suffix: bike-uh, milk-uh, seat-uh, etc.
"K-car" is "big truck"
"K-kuck" is "Fire truck"
"Sissy" is Maggie
"Joey" is James
"Boppa" is Grandpa
"Kee-Kee" is Uncle Jim (first), or any tall youngish man with a beard, second.
"tweet-tweet" is a bird, but he now recognizes robins as specific, and calls them "rob" (which then requires a rendition of "rocking robin" by the nearest adult, to avoid much screaming and unhappiness)
"-uh" is the universal suffix: bike-uh, milk-uh, seat-uh, etc.
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