Stay Classy

Well, he WILL be...

Coming Spring 2010!
 

Observed

When I left for work this afternoon, Brady was being "observed".

A friend of ours who babysits him occasionally is getting her masters (?) in early childhood education, and she's required to spend a certain number of hours observing kids and writing reports. So when I left, she was down in the basement watching Brady and Paul playing with a ball and taking notes. As far as I could tell, Brady had already had two crying meltdowns (one because he thought her arrival meant Mommy and Daddy were leaving, and one because he couldn't watch firetruck videos on Paul's iPhone). Maybe having her come over for the hour immediately preceding nap time wasn't the best idea.

I don't think I want to read that report.

Not cool.

If you're offended by words commonly used to describe the things that go on in diapers, I'd go ahead and stop reading now. Come back tomorrow and I'll talk about puppies and flowers, k?

I'll wait.

Anyway, yesterday morning it became suddenly clear that Brady needed a clean diaper. A certain all-too-familiar odor had alerted me that he had "stinky papers" (why he started referring to dirty diapers this way I have no idea, but now we all do it), and I asked about it.

"Brady, do you have stinky papers?"

"No, no, no!" (He's not a huge fan of having his diaper changed.)

"Brady, I think you pooped. Do you have stinky papers?"

"No, I FART!"

So not only is my kid straight out lying to me, but somehow knows the lovely word fart. Paul claims innocence, but can't stop laughing about it.

I think there may be too many boys in my house.

Trick-Or-Treat!

Given that Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, I was super excited in the weeks leading up to it. It's been a long time since I haven't had to work right through all the festivities, so I wanted to go full-out this year.

Then we all got sick, and all bets were off. I just knew that if I even tried to explain trick-or-treating to Brady and got him excited, he would absolutely get sick just in time to not be able to go. So we never even mentioned it, and on Halloween morning we had no candy, no decorations, and a kid who had never even heard of the holiday. By 5:30pm, there were pumpkins (albeit, fake) in the yard, decorations in the windows, a bucket of candy by the door, and a very excited toddler-sized tiger ready to hit the street. So off we went.

I think the whole concept just confused Brady for the first few houses, but he caught on quickly. By about the 5th house he started saying "Trick or treat!". A few houses later he would reach out, pick a candy out of the bowl, and put it in his bucket. Shortly after he even started saying, "thank you".

The truth is, we really didn't know if Brady would even get trick-or-treating at all. Paul and I had wondered if we were really doing it more for ourselves and the photo op, and I was fully prepared to go home after a few houses. But oh boy did Brady ever get it. He loved it.

 

I can't believe how far he walked. I thought we'd hit 5 or 6 houses, but we went to easily 20. I asked Brady several times if he wanted to go home or keep going and knock on more doors. He was very definitive in his answer: "More doors". So on we went.

I really don't think Brady had any idea that what people were giving him was anything he'd want to eat-- they were just fun, brightly colored little presents. He was even brave enough to go ask the witch down the street.

 

When it started to get really dark and Brady almost got run over a few times by charging groups of 7 and 8 year old boys, I figured it was time to go home and help hand out the candy. 

As soon as we got in the house, Brady sat down in the middle of the living room, dumped out his bucket, and spread out all his loot. He sat there playing with his candy for easily 45 minutes, with breaks to get up and run to the door each time he heard more kids.

I can't tell you how happy I am that we decided to "do" Halloween with Brady this year. It was probably one of the best nights of his little life, and one of those "we'll remember it forever" moments for ol' Mama and Dada.

A whole week

That's how long it's been since my last blog, which is probably the longest I've gone (excluding vacations) since I started this thing. And really, I don't even have a good reason. I've just been feeling lazy lately, and not terribly creative. I took pictures for last week's Project 365, and then we ran around all day Sunday and I never found time to post them, and now it's Wednesday and I still haven't done it. I totally intend to, but that would involve actually sitting down at my computer at home, which seems to be something I avoid like the plague lately.

So what have we been doing? The regular stuff-- reading LOTS of books, hugging stuffed animals, dancing in the kitchen, singing the Wubba Woo song, watching football, making and eating soup, seeing friends, looking at pictures of family, etc etc etc. Life. A good life.

Life is good when Brady asks me to stroke his face ("Mama? Face.") and sing him the lullaby song, right in the middle of the day.

Life is good when Paul brings home chocolate that he knows I secretly want but would never allow myself to buy, and then knows that I'm secretly grateful even as I scold him for buying it.

Life is good when Brady suddenly understands what rain is and exclaims "Mama! Water on face!".

Life is good when my boys and I spend an afternoon at a horribly overcrowded pumpkin patch (nay, theme park), but still have a good time playing together.

Life is good when I get to anticipate a Saturday night out with two of my favorite girls at one of our favorite restaurants.

Life is a quiet, comfy kind of good right now.

And that's... good.

Moderation, Hummus, and French Fries

Just about every day-- and sometimes multiple times a day-- Brady asks for hummus. Seriously. The kid loves hummus. One of his favorite meals these days is a Morningstar Veggie Pattie spread with hummus, and a tangerine on the side. This makes me feel highly virtuous as a parent.

You know what makes me feel less virtuous? The conversation that leads up to the consumption of said veggie pattie.

Me: Brady, let's have lunch!

Brady: Eat? Up in chair?

Me: Yup, let's go.

Brady: Ice cream?

Me: No, we can't have ice cream for lunch.

Brady: Fries?

Me: No.

Brady: Cake?

Me: Nope, not today.

Brady: Yummy cake? Please?

Me: No. Not even yummy cake.

Brady: Hummus?

Clearly, his diet has not been perfect. As he's gotten older, I've definitely loosened up a bit when it comes to what he eats. I think I've come to accept the old "all things in moderation" rule. As long as his diet is, on the whole, healthy, I've decided not to feel guilty if a french fry sneaks in here and there. Because a few fries on occasion never killed anyone, right? And I, frankly, am unwilling to live a french fry-less life. Nobody should be subjected to that kind of deprivation.

20 Months

Dear Brady,

And all of a sudden, we live with a mimic.

A few days ago I dropped something, and given that I am now crazy careful about what I say around you, allowed myself a single "Oh, geez". It's a good thing I did indeed edit what I actually wanted to say, because it was quite a while before you stopped running around yelling "Oh, geez!"

Just this morning I got my lazy butt up (this suddenly cold and gray weather is making me lazy, which means lots of book-reading time for you) and did an exercise DVD. Thanks to the lady chanting "Kick! Knee! Kick! Knee!", you spent most of your day saying "Kick! Me!" to anyone who would listen. Thankfully, nobody did.

You are also starting to get the DO. IT.SELF. bug. Just a day or two ago your dad taught you how to sit and slide yourself down the stairs (which is hilarious, mostly because you sit down and start scooting a good 4 or 5 feet before the top of the stairs), and now it is utterly undignified to be carried. You climb on the couch by yourself, climb into your carseat (mostly) by yourself, and attempt to open the refrigerator and pantry by yourself. You have discovered the "go limp" baby defense when I try to help you with something that you'd rather do yourself. And you finally, finally, are starting to show a real interest in feeding yourself (I know I should probably force this issue more, but I'm usually so desperate to just get some calories into you that I'm willing to just hold your sandwich for you-- I figure you'll do it yourself sometime before college).

Our biggest stroke of brilliance/stupid mistake lately was letting you in on the fact that both your dad and I can play videos for you on our phones-- namely the Grover song ("Bober Song! Bober Song!") and Elmo song. When we use them to get you to sit still through a haircut or in a waiting room, we are geniuses. When you demand them over and over and over (and over and over) again during dinner, we wonder why we ever introduced you to them. Fortunately, you're still fairly distractable, and hiding the phone and using the Grover puppet to sing the song to you is a pretty acceptable substitute. Not that you need Grover, since I can stop singing at any point in the song and you'll sing the next word or two. Just this morning I laid in bed and listened to you in the next room, singing "Wubba wubba wubba wubba dee-ohh-ee-doo". You do love that Grover. And Elmo. And Cookie Monster. 

More than anything, your sweetness has become absolutely unbearable lately. You are literally the sweetest kid I have ever met, and I think you are already discovering that you have the power to absolutely melt your ol' mama. You are liberal with your hugs and kisses, and have the most amazing way of looking at me and sighing "Mama". You fiercely love your Dada, and ask about him constantly when he's not around. The other day I stopped to grab a sandwich for my lunch, and you were seriously concerned that I didn't get one for him. "Dada, samich? Dada, samich?" See? Sweetness. 

I love that you can make me laugh at the drop of a hat, even seconds after driving me absolutely to the ends of my patience. You honestly do make every day better. I'll never be able to tell you enough how much I love you.

Love,

Mom 

How to Make a Mommy Swoon

Me: "Brady, what should we do today"?

Brady: thinks a minute "Hug and Kiss!"

Done, Bubba Boy!

3 Days

I'm really, really excited.

And also really, really nervous.

So what is inspiring this tumultuous mix of emotions?

In a little less than 2 months, I'm going to L.A. for 3 days for my high school reunion.

No, I'm not nervous because of the reunion. I'm nervous because I'm going by myself. As in, without Brady. For 3 days. 

I literally haven't ever been away from that kid for longer than several hours. Ever. And Paul, of course, is already fanning the flames of my guilt. Tonight after dinner, as Brady was being extra cute and giving out hugs, he turned to me and said, "And you're going to be able to leave this boy for 3 days?"

Of course he's kidding, and he's a wonderful husband for encouraging me to go. But he's also right. How am I going to be away from Brady for 3 days? And how lame am I that I'm this nervous about leaving my kid? What if he forgets me or thinks I've abandoned him? What if he eats fries all weekend long (another threat Paul has been using to taunt me)?

On the other hand, I'm super excited at the thought of seeing my friends and family. I'll get two uninterrupted nights of sleep for the first time since early 2008. My friend Kim and I even get to go on our first theater date in years to a show I've been dying to see at the theater where I used to work. And of course, there's the whole reunion thing (and what will I wear??).

I'm positive there will be tears. There's a 99% chance that they will be mine.

Is this normal?

19 Months

Dear Brady,

You, my boy, have a lot to say these days. Mostly, you talk about things with wheels. Airplane, firetruck, train, car, truck, lawnmower... these are the words that leave those little lips more often than any others. You literally wake up in the morning babbling about firetrucks. The other morning when you woke up and I came in and opened your shades, the garbage truck was outside. You seriously freaked out, and didn't stop talking about it for hours. You're kinda cute.

I know I've probably been saying it for months now, but it's amazing to watch your vocabulary grow by leaps and bounds. You literally have a few new words every day lately, and you've started stringing words together. This morning, you asked for "green car". When we went to the zoo to ride the train (which we do a lot lately because it's cheap and makes you ridiculously happy), you said "All aboard!" right after the conductor. It's clear that the more you are able to express yourself and make your opinions known, the happier you get. Honestly, it makes my life a whole heck of a lot easier too.

This is not to say, however, that you are not still a baby at times. When you are hurt, you have the most heart-breaking little baby cry. You nearly killed me with that cry after you fell off of some playground equipment at the State Fair last week. You were fine after a few minutes. I was not. You also broke out the tiny baby cry during a particularly loud storm in the middle of the night recently. You threw in a few "Maaaaamaaaaa..."s, and I was toast. You hung out in bed with your dad and me until the storm was over. You'll always be my baby, you know.

We have started more serious discipline with you this month, and you finally truly understand the concept of the time out. After an infraction (lately, it's usually hitting someone or throwing a toy), you'll sit in your little corner facing the wall until one of us tells you you can come out. Sometimes you cry, other times you just sneak glances at us over your shoulders. Once we tell you you can get up, you seem to make a conscious effort to turn up the cute, hugging me or laying your head on my lap. You've also just learned the word "sorry", but only say it after being asked about a dozen times. I don't think it counts yet.

More than anything, you're just a whole lot of fun lately. It's fun to read book after book after book (still your favorite pastime by far) to you. It's fun to hear you recite your ABC's, and spell your name, and make all your favorite animal sounds. It's fun to play in the park with you. It's fun to ride the train with you. It's fun to sit in the chairs on the back patio and "chat" with you. It's fun to get hugs and kisses from you before I go to work. It's not so much fun when you smack me or empty the cabinets, but we're working on it.

As usual, I can't put into words how much I love you. As my dad (your Grandpa Ken) would say, it's bigger than the sky outside.

Love,

Mom