A Saturday Adventure

Sofi's at a birthday party, Daddy's busy with work, Mommy's cleaning and cooking, SO


The boys are going on an adventure!

Summer lunches...

I was 22 when Sofi was born. I was in a hurry. I wanted lots of children, I wanted them all Now and I wanted everything unpleasant in Motherhood to speed by as quickly as possible.

I spent a lot of the first five years of her life wanting things I couldn't have. I missed a lot of what I did have in the meantime. I sped through her babyhood in a daze. I forget a lot of it.

The big gap between Sofi and Judah represents a lot. Two miscarriages. Lots of tears. Lots of growing. A lot (but not enough yet) of letting go of Me and learning to hold on to Him.

Now I have two boys. I have learned am learning to slow down. God's gift to me is the occasional day like today which starts with my agenda thwarted (by a spill, or a melt-down, or a fight, or....) and then I, slowed down, have time to see what I have here, now, in this moment. The beauty that surrounds me.

Today, by God's grace, I see...

Lunch on the deck



Silly faces



Short people



My Boys





Sky-high eyelashes



Chubby baby curves and binkies



Milk mustaches

A post about Nicknames

We love nicknames in our family...

For as long as I can remember, nicknames have been a way to show affection and familial familiarity. I think maybe my grandfather started it... He called us all "Lemuel". Or "Lemmie".  Don't ask. I have no idea. My father called us "Munchkins". I do know where that came from! I called my baby sister "Chickie" or "Chicken".  And then I had my own children...

Sofi: Her first name was Cricket. That child had hiccups for nearly nine straights months in utero. My belly hopped around like a Mexican Jumping Bean while she trampolined off every internal organ.

And then we called her Chickie. Or Chicken. Because I was still figuring out how to transition from Big Sister to Mama and it seemed appropriate to call her the same pet name I used for my First Baby-- my little sister, Tess. Who was really my third baby anyway, because Sam and Polly were my babies, too, really. And besides, she squawked and chirped with her hungry mouth opened wide, just like a baby chickie....



Judah: Oh my that boy had the bluest baby blues... and so we called him Judah Blue. Judah Blue Eyed Boy.



And the fat rolls!! We called him Judah Buddha. His Aunt Polly, Queen of Fat Rolls herself, once upon a longlong time ago, gave him that name. And Sofi started calling him just "Buddha" The chiropracter tentatively asked me one day... "Is his name...Buddha? Is that it?" And I laughed and laughed....

His mama still calls him My White-Headed Boy, because he is. And sometimes Scooter, because he did-- for the longest time. And his daddy calls him Buddy, and Little Man.

And now there's Jamie. And he has four people who all make up their own nicknames for him.

Munchkin

Precious

Capital-T-Trouble

Scoofle-noodle

Cuddle Monster

That Boy 

Bo-bo

Jo-jo (because of his inititals)

Scooter

Scooby-doo

Jamie-Jo

..and most recently my favorite, which somehow morphed out of some tongue-tripping combination of those last three names:


Subito




Jamie-Jo, My Subito...

Boys in the Kitchen

Remember our Pinterest Mud Kitchen? We're putting it to good use on a daily basis, now that we've raked up the TWENTY-FOUR BAGS of live-oak leaves that was giving it a vampire-movie-set vibe that made it hard to play out there...

5 Happy Things For Easter Monday

1) 91 pieces of Origami.



2) Bright Red Geraniums in Pots.



3) Approximately 12 dozen egg-- real, plastic, or filled-with-confetti



4) 12 children hunting Easter Eggs. Eight of them are five and under. Five of them are two-year-olds.



5) Two days in the pool.





And now, Spring Break is Done.

Cutest Two Year Old in the WORLD

Jamie's been such a late talker, compared to the other two, but now that he IS talking, it's so much FUN!


Talking about how he burned his hand in the frying pan:



Showing off a little:






I'm off Facebook for Lent, so if you read this there, would you hop on over to leave your comment here, instead? Thank you! I'd hate to miss you!

Jamie's Penchant for Mischief reaches New Heights

No really. I mean it. See?


WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE????




BUSTED!!



Young man, how in the world did you get up there???

"Kime Dat!"




He actually did "kime" right up the front of the dresser. Like Spiderman.

Lord have mercy.

Merbaby

(this is the fourth in a series of posts I'm writing about my Water Babies. you might want to read part one, part two and part three,

James in the pool is the most improbable. Guests watch incredulously his tiny body launching from the deck, arching dragon-fly-like, wings extended back, as he splashes belly-first (every time) and then hangs almost motionless, face-down in a deadman's float for a moment, as mother-eyes watch to see if a panicked rescue is in order...

But no, he's merely taking stock of his domain. He jack-knifes underwater, touching his toes and then straightening out to kick his way to the other side. This child swims a good eight to ten feet without a breath. I hold mine while I watch... just to see... so I know when he's running low, when he's about to have to breathe or drown. He swims one-sided. His right arm takes comically vigorous strokes, while his left plasters to his side, his legs thrashing the water determinedly.

On the longest jaunt-- 20 feet, clear across the pool-- he has to flip to his back to breathe. He waits for a moment, white-knuckling the edge of the deck, grins up at me "Wha wide, Mama?" ("other side?"), then pushes off with his toes, sideways, face down, kick-rightstroke-kick-rightstroke, then swoosh he flips to his back, tiny ohsotiny face floating high in the deep blue water, utterly isolated, utterly serene, calm, self-confident.

A baby island in the deep end. 

Kick, kick, kick. Flip under, eyes wide to find the direction, re-orient, float again, kick kick kick to the edge.

Goal achieved.

Destination reached.

He elbows up over the edge, toddler pot belly resting on the deck and arm-over-arm, knees up onto solid ground. But only briefly. This solid ground is not for him. He prefers the world where he is the equal of all, where he is the master of all he sees...

Jamie says "yes"

Jamie has never said the word "yes" before this week. He says "no!" loud and clear, but his term of ascent has always been a slow, deliberate and distinct  "Uh. Huh."-- often accompanied by vigorous head-nodding. When he first began to respond to instruction with a "yes, ma'am", it usually came out more like "Uh hiiiyee, Mama" And when "yes, sir" began to be required, it was, "Uh hiiyeee, Mama, szzir"

But this week, for the first time, he said, "SZES!"

*sniff*

He's growing up.

Conversation with Jamie

Watching Judah give me a giant hug and then run off, Jamie gives a little grin, "Whheeeet"

"Sweet? Is Judah sweet?"

"Uh huh. Duh-duh whheet." More grins. "Mommy whheet, too?"

Awww.

"Mommy sweet, huh? Is Jamie sweet, too?"

"NO." Shakes head emphatically. "No enny whheet, too!"

He's finally starting to talk

"Bee bo baaaa???" big boy bed

"Beet bop" cake pop at Starbucks

"Cuhlur" squirrel

"DEEEEEEty!"  dirty

"DOO!" "two," used to ask for more of something when given only one-- as in "NO! DOO pairbul!" (pretzel) Or "DOO beee" ("bee" is his lovey blanket- he prefers to have a backup with him at all times)

"Gah guy?" good guy-- super hero or character of any kind, also "Maimee Gah guy?" "Jamie is a good guy"-- when being a super hero or other character

"Wah wah?" Phone. Don't ask. I have no idea. Perhaps Charlie Brown???


"Ahtsieeed Wahdeer???"  Pool. Used to be, anyway. Now he just says "bool". More accurate, less cute.


"Whah Wiiiiyeed?" Originally meant "other side"-- for nursing. Now used to redirect. As in "No! Whah Wiiiiyeeed!" when he wants to move something or someone. 




He still mainly communicates with signs and grunts, all of which are super cute, but don't translate well to the written word. He consistently clams up and refuses to "talk" when I bring out the video camera, so you'll just have to take my word on it.

I live at the O.K. Corral

Getting the boys dressed in the morning has become a Ultimate Fighting Championship Event. The diaper changing, shirt putting-on and shoe-ing is punctuated with fisticuffs, gunfights and jousting.

One might ask, justifiably, if perhaps letting a nearly-five-year-old engage in fisticuffs with his baby brother might be a wee tad bit un-even of a fight. One would be wrong in this case. James is... scrappy. Very scrappy. He gives just about as good as he gets-- despite the fact that he's half Judah's size and weight.

He also has the advantage that he makes Jude nearly helpless with laughter. It's really hard to maintain the necessary Superhero-esque focus when a pint-sized fury is running at your knees, screaming "Waaaaargharg!!!!" Judah giggles uncontrollably as James takes him to the floor and pummels his stomach with both tiny fists.

They both love it. They revel in it. The testosterone is almost visible.

But this morning I think perhaps some guidance from an older, wiser and more chivalrous testosterone-producer may be in order after hearing this:



"Here Jamie, I'll be right back. You just shoot Mama instead for a few minutes till I get back."

While you were in there...

Today, during assorted trips to the bathroom on my part, Jamie has;

1) Climbed up on the dining room table and found both a not-quite-empty milk cup and the sugar bowl.

2) Gotten out the front door and into the yard.

3) Emptied my entire collection of safety pins out onto the bedroom floor.

3) Dragged a tissue box out of the van into the flower bed and proceeded to tear the tissues into a million tiny, buoyant pieces.

I may not be able to pee again till he's five.

Talkin' to Gramma Sandy

(Sandy, sorry it took me so long to get this up for you!)

Apparently it's a sleepy day...