Hangin' With Mah Nomies

I feel bad for Noah.

His brother gets the spotlight 90% of the time by way of Judah's loud and persistent temperament versus Noah's relatively mellow nature. And it's just so much more interesting for me to interact with a 3.5 year old than a 16 month old.

But that doesn't mean Judah has 90% of my heart. Noah steals it every day.

So in honor of the oft-forgotten brother, here is a monster rundown of all things Noah.

Starting a couple months ago he's become very verbal and learns new "words" daily. Common "words" he says are:

"sh, sh, sh" for shoes
"bow" for bowl
"sss, sss" for cereal
"chuh, chuh" for Judah (apparently pronouncing the 'juh' sound is too hard at this stage)
"goh, goh" for dog in Chinese (this is prob the first word he learned back at 12 months)
"hi" for hi!
"bah, bah" for bye
"mama" for his doting mother
"dada" for his dad
"ball" for ball of course (also one of his first words)
"kuh, kuh" for kai-kai, Chinese for open (like opening a container)
"nah, nah" for Noah and for the word no
"nai, nai" Chinese for milk (another very early word)
"fff, fff" for fen, Chinese for rice
"huh, huh" for hat (another early word cuz we ALWAYS wear hats in this family)

And one of the sweetest words, "buhbuh" for baby. Noah's going through his nurturing phase and loves cuddling with his "buhbuhs", basically any stuffed animal around the house.

Can I get an "awwwww"?

He likes to plop them in his mini-stroller and push them around. And he especially likes swaddling them in burp cloths (which is weird cuz he hasn't been swaddled for over a year now!)

Another word Noah loves is "ruh ruh" which means roly-poly. That is the number one activity that engages the boys when they go outside. I feel like God had toddlers and preschoolers in mind when he designed roly-polies. Finding and collecting them is The Perfect outdoor activity for little kids. They are so slow and defenseless even Noah can spot one and pick it up with his clumsy fingers all on his own. And then, just like Lenny in Of Mice and Men, Noah squishes them dead.

Brother bonding: looking for 'ruh ruh's. Judah likes to set them free. Noah loves on them a little too much.

Noah's also been really into self-feeding the last couple months. He now feeds himself pretty much his entire meal. This makes giant plastic pocket-bibs absolutely essential as 50% of the food on his spoon ends up never reaching his mouth.

Mr. Independent. Ironically Judah still asks me to spoon-feed him!

Every morning Noah wakes up 2 hours before his brother (TWO HOURS! my life is no bueno in that regard people. No bueno indeed) and we have breakfast together. It's always "sss, sss" (cereal) in his "bow, bow" (bowl) with "nai nai" (milk).

During the day Noah is usually very happy to trail his older brother and attempts to copy everything he does. Even when Judah trips and falls, Noah will immediately enact the fall. Funny guy. Noah loves markers because Judah draws a lot but I rarely let Noah touch them because, well, see for yourself:

This is why I never allow myself to pee. 90 seconds away is all it takes...

They play together pretty well at this point (but I do fear for the future). Noah actually acquiesces to Judah's demands pretty readily. If Judah is building a fancy stack-a-doo creation and tells Noah to stay the heck away from it if he knows what's good for him, Noah actually steps aside and doesn't even try to mess with it.

Judah's mean big brother days are numbered now that Noah has actually learned how to tattle on him! Call it little guy survival instinct, but Noah learned to do this pretty quickly. A few weeks back little Noah came up to me and pointed to his head saying "unh, unh, unh" and then pointed to Judah and said "chhh, chhh."

What Noah? Judah hit your head?
Judah, did you hit Noah in the head?
He was in my way! It was an accident!

Judah was so busted.

Noah's day usually ends like this:

Isn't this how everyone likes to end their day? Naked, moisturized, enjoying a video of themselves?

Buck naked, toothbrush at hand, ready to watch a video of himself so I can slather eczema creams all over his dry skin. This is the only way I can get this writhing wiggly worm to sit still for his creaming.

The first time this brilliant idea popped into my head a couple months ago, I said "Noah, let's go watch a video!" Up until then, he had never watched anything but had seen his brother get up on this same chair + booster stool and enjoy plenty of Go Diego Go. Without any further prompts from me, Noah ran to this room, set the booster stool up himself and sat patiently waiting for his video.

He is always doing stuff like this. Showing me that he knows so much more than I think he does. That he is always watching, observing, and filing things away. And that he is growing up way faster than mommy can ever keep up with or admit to herself.

Whatever will I do when my baby is no longer a baby? However will my poor heart recover?

The suburbs aren't all that safe...

If you were to drive by my house last week on a random Thursday at precisely 7:26 pm, you would have seen my naked preschooler urinating on my driveway.

We had just gotten back from a walk in the neighborhood and Judah announced I HAVE TO PEE! Before I knew what was happening he had already taken off his pants and undies and just, well, peed. I have no idea why his t-shirt was off though. Hmmmmm.

I have no deep or witty insights into this episode. But it definitely made my day. Or rather it definitely made my day...more interesting. Life with a 3 year old--a gift that never stops giving.

Let's gather around and watch our little seeds grow

Ack, I'm so behind on blogging! Well, there's no time like the present to catch up...

Let's see...I'm a little late, but happy belated Mother's Day!

In honor of Mother's Day Judah's preschool had a special presentation for moms. I got to sit in and watch them do a dog and pony show (sing lots of songs, do a little skit, etc.) for about half an hour.

And then, the kids "prepared" a snack for their moms. It was hilarious hearing their teacher explain each component of the snack:

First, put a cookie on your mom's plate. This cookie is for your mom, not for you. Don't take a bite. Don't lick it. Just put it on her plate.

Then, take a knife and spread some cream cheese on the bagel and put it on the plate for your mom. Remember, this is for your mom, not for you. Don't eat the bagel. And don't lick the knife and cream cheese. You will have your own snack later.

Then, take a banana piece, peel it, and put it on your mom's plate. Don't eat the banana. It's for your mom!

Judah and classmates begin to plate their food, kinda like in Iron Chef, no?

This was followed by similar instructions on how to put cantaloupe and strawberry chunks on a skewer, and so forth. I was really curious to see if Judah could perform each of these tasks because at home I do everything for him. Was he really capable of spreading cream cheese on a bagel?!

What an amazing demonstration of fine motor skills! I'm never buttering his toast for him again.

Yes, yes he was! He did a fantastic job and I was a very proud mama.

Nothing like a tour de force show of culinary presentation skillz to underscore how much your sweet baby peanut has grown and grown and grown.

Child labor snack service? I could get used to this...

What a way to make a mom cry into her skewered fruit.

Everything In An Instant

I just had to record this memory before it got lost in the dark chasm of my mommy brain...

A couple days ago Judah came home from playing outside and the Spouse made him strip down naked and wash his hands. Our house is kind of like a prison--you need to strip and scrub before entering. The Spouse is a little (and by little I mean A LOT) OCD about dirt.

Judah was really unhappy, as he usually is, to be stripped and scrubbed, and whimpered and whined about how cold he was. My heart leapt with compassion for him (it was a really cold day) and I ran downstairs and unzipped my fleece jacket and put it around him. Then I scooped him up and carried him upstairs to his room to get some new clothes.

The look on Judah's face when he saw me drape my jacket on him is a look I wish I could replay forever. It was like the warmest sunlight had been flicked on. In that instant I knew I had made him feel loved, comforted, and best of all, understood.

And that is all I could ever want for him, and for myself as his parent.

Or So I've Heard

Today the Spouse relayed to me this incident:

While flossing Judah...

Judah: Daddy I love you this much. [Judah holds his fingers very close together, a sign of miserly affections.]

Judah: But I love Miss Lydia (Judah's dour pre-school teacher) this much. [Judah flings his arms wide open. This is pretty damning because Judah often says he hates Miss Lydia.]

Spouse: Why do you love me so little Judah?

Judah: Because you floss me! I hate flossing!

In conclusion the Spouse realized he was "flossing Judah's love away" and so from now on it will be my task to floss the child.

******************************

In other news, Judah's babysitter told me that Judah punched a first-grader in the nose today. They were playing at a local elementary school playground and a boy was apparently "getting in Judah's face and really annoying him" and Judah finally just straight-up punched him.

The babysitter was shocked, as was I, since Judah has never punched anyone before and he's not really a physical person anyway.

Maybe his obsession with super-heroes has gone a little too far...

My Double Rainbow

More and more it's looking like this is the future for Noah and Judah:

Everyone we meet (whether at the grocery store or the doctor's office) never fails to proclaim that Judah and Noah look like twins. Yet at Noah's visit to the pediatrician last week it was revealed that he is now only 30th percentile in height, a precipitous drop from how he started in life, at 90th or so. But at Noah's age, Judah was still a very tall 75th percentile, I think.

Gotta love Judah's fake obligatory smile.

If we continue on this trajectory Judah will probably end up being at least 6 feet and Noah will be a nice, compact 5'6'' maybe?

Just one of the many delightful differences I'm noting in these brothers. I have to say, when it comes to having 2 kids, I'm realizing that (to borrow a phrase from the queen of teen-pop--I love you Taytay!) two is better than one.

There is no greater joy or entertainment for me than watching my 2 kids interact. Even if they're being nasty to each other it's just straight up hilarious.

Noah experiences the fine line between affection and annoyance...all the time.

Their interactions usually fall into one of 3 categories: (1) intense jealousy/covetousness, (2) Noah copying Judah, and (3) benign neglect.

In the first category, it never fails to amaze me how intensely Judah will want something that Noah has simply because Noah has it and likes it. Even an object that Judah has scorned mere SECONDS ago, becomes like the Ring of Power to Golum when Noah starts to treasure it.

Judah has no interest in being in this toy...until Noah is enjoying it.

A few weeks ago they were fighting over a stupid tiny pink guitar that plays horribly off-key tunes when you press it's buttons. It was a secret Santa present from Judah's preschool and he didn't care for it that much. But when Noah grabbed a hold of it all hell broke loose.

Future school bus bully--parents beware.

Thankfully Judah's not a physically aggressive guy or else he could just easily pummel Noah and grab things from him. But Judah is quite the physical pacifist. Instead he screamed and cried in anguish for his toy back, yet never lifted a finger against him.

Noah on the other hand knew exactly what was going on and proceeded to goad Judah on by offering him the guitar and then jerking it away as Judah got closer. The little bugger can definitely dish it out. He would also run away on his short stubby legs and hide in plain sight, like in the corner of the room. So freaking cute right?

Of course I let this go on way too long as I haven't laughed this hard since I can remember.

The second category of interaction, Noah copying Judah, is probably the cutest darn thing I've ever seen. Noah doesn't smile much but he beams with pride and joy whenever he is successfully copying Judah--like when he wears Judah's superhero cape and/or sunglasses.

This is the look on Noah's face when he's about to attempt a 'big boy' activity--sheer determination and joy.

Last week I turned around to find my sweet little guy poking Judah's foam sword into my leg and giving me a look like "I gotcha Mommy!" Of course my heart melted and I pretended to die the same way I do when I'm playing with Judah. That little Noah just slays me, in every sense of the word.

And just yesterday Judah was roaring ferociously in the back of the car, when I suddenly hear this tiny high-pitched vocalization. At first I couldn't figure out what Noah was doing, but when that little noise was emitted consistently each time after Judah's roar I realized Noah was "roaring" too. At the stoplight I turned around and said "Good roars Noah!" and he beamed like the sun.

But most often, Judah and Noah are in category three, benign neglect. They enjoy being in each other's presence, each doing their own thing. Judah will build a spaceship from stackadoos or read his comic books and Noah will just putz around, picking up a ball, fingering a car, flipping through a book, what have you. Noah is so good at entertaining himself around the house that way I call him my putz-er. Just putz, putz, putzing around.

The Don and his pet pool boy.

But once in a great while, there will be a fourth category of interaction--a shining moment of great and incomparable joy when my two kids are actually making each other smile and laugh, on purpose. Recently it's in the form of Judah chasing Noah, Noah squealing in delight at being chased, Judah tickling Noah when he's caught him, and then Judah letting Noah go so he can get chased again.

So cute it makes me want to force them into matching outfits every day.

Sometimes it's Judah handing Noah a toy that he knows Noah would like or entertaining Noah when he knows Noah is prone to fuss (like on the changing table or in his car seat).

And often it's when I tell them "Kiss your brother!" and each kisses the other because the command could've been intended for either one.

And they always love each other just enough to comply.

All Joy and No Fun

After I started reading Jennifer Senior's recent book about modern parenting, All Joy and No Fun, I figured I would never need to blog about parenting ever again.

She wrote it all.

It's all been said and done now. Her thoughts were a thousand times more articulate and illuminating than my own and I found myself nodding, chortling, and grunting in agreement pretty much non-stop throughout.

For example, her section on "flow" and the parent. Part of why parenting infants/toddlers is such a miserable experience is because there is no sense of "flow"--defined as that sensation of being totally absorbed and "in the zone", where an hour can feel like 5 minutes. Flow requires the perfect balance of stress and boredom--just challenging enough to keep you engaged and not too challenging that you're feeling high anxiety.

But parenting is like the opposite of experiencing flow. You are either bored out of your mind or stressed out of your mind.

First, the boredom--because babies can't talk, because reading Hop on Pop for the 50th time blows, because helping someone stumble around the park and not get to their destination for 30 minutes is mind-numbing, because tossing a ball back and forth, shaking rattles, playing peek-a-boo, labeling objects, and all the other stuff you're supposed to be doing for your baby's early development is, let's face it, completely boring after the first 90 seconds.

Second, the stress, which for me (and most parents I would imagine) comes from a very simple source--crying. Some people can tolerate a lot more crying than others, but we are all hard-wired by Nature to have a true physical stress response to our children crying. Heart rates are elevated, cortisol levels rise, blood pressure goes up, everything in you feels horrible.

So there you have it--the yin and yang of parenting small people--extreme boredom or extreme stress. No wonder in large national surveys mothers rank spending time with their kids less desirable than doing the dishes or other house chores. Hard to believe if you've never spent more than 8 hours with a small child, but I'm here to testify--that shizz is fo realz people. Fo realz.

Don't let the cuteness fool you!

Because the author was so dead on in capturing life with the 0-3 set, I was really excited to read on as she laid out life with school-age kids and then life with teenagers. Maybe this would give me a little road map toward what awaits and for once in my parenting life, I could get ahead of the curve!

Although I did find it somewhat helpful, alas, it didn't prove half as insightful sounding as the first part, maybe because she herself has only experienced motherhood up until age 5 (the age of her only son). All I gleaned is that kids between ages 4 and 12 are intensely over-scheduled and the parent basically morphs into a taxi driver. I'm thinking this might become irrelevant for me as Google develops the driver-less car any day now.

But aside from these little peaks into the horror and hells of parenting, I have to say my favorite part of the book was the last section in which the author explores the Joy of parenting. After all, the title does promise that it's "All Joy..."

Her descriptions of the deep and abiding joy in the midst of the pain of parenting were so poignant I teared up, a lot. In particular, she noted that single moms are by far the most stressed out people on the planet, BUT they are the least depressed. This seems counter-intuitive since you assume intense stress causes mental breakdown and depression.

But the author notes that depression is essentially a function of disassociation. When you feel like you have little or no attachments to the world around you, that is the key to depression. And parenting is the ultimate antidote. For the first time in your life, most likely, you feel the ultimate attachment. Never have you committed to someone to the degree that you commit to your child. And infinitely more so if you are his/her only, single parent.

To be on the hook, to be forever committed, to inextricably link yourself to another such that it is simply impossible to feel happy if that person is sad, is a monstrous burden--but also the gateway to paradise. As I've quoted before in reference to parenting--To love another person is to see the face of God.

And to that also, I can testify. That shizz is def fo realz too.

Learning to Read at Age 25

This is the story of how I learned to read.

Growing up, I don't remember a single instance in which someone read something to me. I struggled to find age appropriate books and I largely failed because no one helped me find age appropriate books.

When I was 7 I overheard that the Chronicles of Narnia were "really good". So I checked it out at the library and was stymied at the very beginning. It kept referring to a wardrobe. What the heck was a wardrobe those crazy British people? Did it have something to do with war? Or robes?

Reading was confusing, bewildering, frustrating and fruitless. If I were more patient, I supposed I could've made use of a dictionary. But my experiences with dictionaries were equally frustrating. Often the definition included words I didn't know so it was an endless hunt down farther and farther rabbit trails until I forgot what word I was even looking up in the first place.

But once in a great while, I was so drawn to a topic that I actually made the effort to read. In particular, princess fairy tales. I couldn't get enough of them. The enchantingly beautiful protagonist. The cruel and unjust things that she suffered. Magic. And of course, The Prince.

But eventually I got tired of the formulaic genre and haven't read another fairy tale since 5th grade.

I also loved Roald Dahl. He is the only author to ever make the child-me feel like I wasn't actually reading. I was just...living in his world.

And then in college I met a reader. My then-boyfriend, now-Spouse, had (and still has) an unholy love of all things books. For a miserably poor college student he had an unusually gigantic collection of books spilling over every surface of his tiny living space.

Somehow we got along. It didn't bother him that I didn't read. And it didn't bother me that he had way too many books. He read his books and then we talked about them and it worked out very well that way.

But one day, I don't even remember why, he suggested that I read a book. Not in a mean or condescending way. But more like, hey, do you want to try to do this thing that's actually really enjoyable once you learn to enjoy it?

And I resisted. Books are boring. I'm too busy. I don't know where to start. What should I read? Nah, like I said, books are boring.

Why don't you just pick one book from my bookshelf? he said. Here, this is a thin one. How about this one? Why don't we just start with reading one page. Together.

And so we cracked open Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse and read one page. And the next day we read another. And the next day more pages. And soon I was hooked. I got lost in the story.

The apartment in which I learned to love to read.

It took at least another few years for me to finally say that I love to read. But now, 10 years after first flipping through Siddhartha, I realize I've completely transformed into one of those people I thought I'd never be--a reader.

How dim and dark my world would be if he hadn't taught me to read.

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

Last Saturday the day started off pretty well. I took the kids to an Easter Egg Hunt sponsored by a huge local park and it was everything you could ask for in a kiddie event.

The Spouse wasn't able to come but thank goodness a dear friend came along so I didn't have to schlep everything by myself and try to run after 2 kids at once going in the opposite direction--and bonus, she took some great pics for us!

I was more excited than the kids, this being MY first egg hunt too.

There were booths full of free swag, including law enforcement booths. Judah has been obsessed with policemen since age 1.5 but when he met actual officers he hid behind my back. Pity.

Brave enough to stand next to the car, but too shy to stand next to actual officers.

There was a free bounce house and face/hand painting. Judah was very insistent that glitter be applied to his artwork.

Judah proudly shows off his abiding love of law enforcement.

There was some creepy mute giant bunny, which Noah wisely wanted to get the hell away from.

Noah says "That's okay Mom, I'll just stand over here."

Noah would not have it. Not even for a second.

There was some arts and crafts and sidewalk chalk.

Pastel graffiti--lovely little signs of joy.

And of course, the piece de resistance, an egg hunt by age cohort. Noah got to go first in the 0-2 category which included adult accompaniment. I thought it would be cool to let Noah mosey around, leisurely picking up eggs, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Noah, on the now empty field. Egg hunt fail.

 All the parents steam-rolled through the lawn like locusts in a wheat field and cleaned that puppy out in 20 seconds flat! One parent had pity on Noah's empty basket and dropped him a couple so he wouldn't end up empty-handed.

Look mom! One pity egg!

Judah got to go next in the 3-5 age group and managed to grab 3 eggs before they were all gone. Not a huge loot, but all the better since they were filled with candy.

Of course my kid is the one who doesn't know how to use a basket.

Preschoolers, preschoolers everywhere!

"I don't know who ate all of Noah's candy."

Noah, however, does know who ate all his candy.

The kids had fun and zonked out in the car trip home. But apparently one big adventure was not enough for that day.

In the evening Judah was climbing up a tall step stool to wash his hands and stepped where there was no step and crashed his chin down onto our granite counter top. Although there were no sharp edges involved, apparently the impact was so great it split his chin open about an inch and a half.

We took one look at it and instantly agreed that stitches would be needed--Judah's first stitches! At the ER Judah was actually in pretty good spirits as we waited for the doctor. He was a chatty Cathy and enjoyed being read his Justice League comic book.

Thank goodness for comic books.

The doctor came in and told us he'd have to get a numbing shot and get stitched up, which required him to get pappused (too lazy to spell check)--basically a straight jacket for kids--while 2 nurses held him down.

Judah gets pappused!

I will forever feel guilty that I mistakenly informed him about the numbing shot. I thought, and I told him, that they would shoot him near the wound but not actually in the wound and it would just be one quick shot. I could not have been more wrong.

The doctor stuck him right in his wound--SIX TIMES! Wow, that must've hurt! Of course that started Judah on a scream-a-thon that didn't end until he was released from his pappuse 10 long minutes later. Judah was also really offended that a bright light was being shone right in his eyes and a surgical paper was covering his face the whole time. Poor terrified kid.

You are all lucky there is no audio accompaniment for this pic.

The whole time I tried distracting him with made-up stories about Batman, much to the amusement of the medical staff. Alas, Judah was screaming to loudly to hear much of my story.

All stitched up! But still a little traumatized.

Happily Judah bounced back really easily and quickly. He went right to bed and woke up as if nothing ever happened.

I'm dreading when we get his (eight!) stitches out this Friday, but until then, we're doing great, all things considered.

Every Day

Every day Noah wakes me up at 6:30 am, screaming as if someone is choking the lifeblood out of him. His wake up times have risen steadily over the last month and I'm afraid he'll start waking at 6:00 am soon if I go to him immediately when he cries. And so I wait until 7:00 am to relieve him, the whole time, my bones aching with stress and sadness at the sound of my wailing child. "Good" morning.

The bane and boon of my existence--all joy and no fun.

Every day I face a mountain of dishes. And I heroically tackle that mountain, only to find another, even higher mountain materialize after lunch. I tackle that one with all the spare time I can muster. And then I tackle the Mount Everest of them all after dinner. I've learned that emptying the dish drying rack is just as crucial as washing dirty dishes. And surprisingly, it takes just as long.

Every day I look at piles of laundry in various stages of unwash and feel defeated.

Every day I rack my brain trying to figure out what to feed Judah, The Pickiest Eater on Earth. Noah is not a great eater either. Whenever meal time rolls around I have a mini-panic attack.

Every day Noah naps for 40 minutes and then cries indefinitely until I hold him for the rest of his 2-hour nap time. Of course I can't be holding him for an hour and 20 minutes each day so I let him cry. And again I feel like dying a thousand miserable deaths.

Every day I look around the house and frown at all the things that are not in their rightful place. Why is my toothbrush on the couch? How did Noah's shoe get under the kitchen table? All the upstairs things are downstairs and the downstairs things are upstairs. And I ask myself The Question--is it worth the effort to set it right only to have the kids mess it up again in an hour or so?

Every day I look at the dry rough patches and open sores on Noah's body--where his lower ears connect to his face, his chin area, his knees and calves, his feet and hands, the back of his neck--due to his eczema and I feel like a failure. Each rough patch whispers silent condemnation--you've failed. You've failed to cream him as much as you should. You've failed to figure out the right combo of creams to use. You've failed to adequately care for your baby. But the worst feelings of failure by far is when I open up his diaper to find that a huge, slightly acidic dump has started to eat away at his skin because I didn't know he had a dirty diaper for God knows how long. You'd think I would smell those suckers from a mile away, but I have honestly lost my sense of smell.

Every day I am doing house chores, washing, cleaning, picking up, setting right, activities up until my 10:30 pm bedtime.

Every day I feel like an over-educated domestic servant.

Every day I pray for sleep. And I thank God for mercy. I thank God I got through another day in which I did not too badly emotionally scar my kids (I think, I hope) by yelling my head off and shaking with rage at the end of what always feels like a looooooooong day.

Every day my will is thwarted. My desires are frustrated. My ability to have any meaningful control over my day is mocked. I have mini-tantrums and seethe that I never get my way.

And I feel like a stone being pummeled and worn down by the massive, unrelenting, magnificent ocean waves. And I am changing...into what, I do not yet know.

On Life and Death

Recently Judah's been asking me a lot about death and dying. I guess it was inevitable given all the killing that goes on between superheros and villains, his current obsession for the last 6 months.

He asks things like
Mommy, are you going to die?
Am I going to die?
Yes, Judah, everyone dies someday.
When are you going to die?
I don't know, nobody knows.

Apparently he's talked to the Spouse about it as well because he comforts himself (and me) by saying: Daddy says after we die, we will become alive again and then we will never get sick or die anymore. So it's okay if I die.

I told him that it is okay, but I hope he has a long life.
Why Mommy? What's a long life?
I hope you get to grow up and become a big boy like Evan (who is 8), and then a teenager, and then a grown up like daddy, and have your own kids, and then a grandpa.

And then Judah became distraught when I had to explain that he might not have a long life because no one is guaranteed that. He teared up as I explained in concrete terms that we could die any day. That Mommy could die tomorrow and I wouldn't see him again for a long time after that.
Mommy, my eyes are almost crying, he said.

The next day he asked how he could have a long life. I told him that was out of our control but we could pray about it, so he did.

And today, a week later he said
Mommy, I already have a long life.
You mean 3 years?
Yeah, 3 years is a long time.
When I told him his dad has already lived 37 years his eyes bulged in disbelief.

Judah, just 3 hours old, a "long" time ago.

But of course, he is right. Even 3 days is a long time if you count up every second of grace.

Heart of My Own Heart

Mommy, the sky was so beautiful, Judah recounted to me. It was blue and pink and purple!

Mommy, I love nature. Let's go on a nature walk. Nature is so beautiful.

Judah on a "nature walk" cira 1.5 years old.

I'm sure we all feel stirred by the glory of the skies, but very rarely do I hear people talk about it, and even more rarely do I hear little kids have self-originating, completely unprompted thoughts on it.

When I was in elementary school I first became aware of how my heart felt like breaking while staring at cumulus clouds slowly sailing across a piercing blue sky, or the rivers of gold in a vermillion sunset. I often exclaimed to friends, "Look at that sky! Gosh I love nature! Isn't it so beautiful?"

I've rarely if ever said that to Judah, maybe because I'm too distracted making sure he (or Noah) isn't eating dirt or about to get run over by a car. So to hear him echo back the unspoken beats of my own heart was pretty trippy.

I guess he really is mine.

Snippets

Noah

Noah is turning out to be a little comedian. I'm pretty sure he thinks he's hilarious when he does his little comedy routine called "blowing before nursing".

He's picked up on blowing his food to cool it down because he sees me do it all the time. He does it sometimes as I spoon-feed him mac n' cheese or steaming rice. So now he 'blows' on my boob before nursing as his little inside joke--ha ha Mom, see what I did there? I'm cooling it down before I eat it, ha ha ha. I'm hilarious!

How do I know that's what he's thinking? His tell-tale little smirk and the glint of his eye as he does it. Is 12 months too early for babies to "tell" jokes? Not this kid.

Judah

Sometimes I wonder if I infantalize Judah too much. I often help him do things that other kids much younger can do for themselves, like get up and down his step-stools and put on his jackets.

So today I asked him, "Judah, do I treat you like a baby?"
Without skipping a beat he replied, "No, you treat me like a slave."

Well, there you go. Someone feels like he's not being babied enough!

Actually, Judah has a good point. I've gotten in the habit of barking orders at him--Hurry up! Put your socks and shoes on! Get your jacket! We're late already! Drop that crayon WE HAVE TO GO!!!!

Sigh, it's because we can never make it on time to his preschool. And then his teacher gives me the stink-eye because we're late. Again. I need to start waking up earlier.

Sometimes He is Good

Can I brag a little?

Yesterday I experienced one of my parenting's proudest moments.

We were walking around and Judah found a dandelion and instead of wishing for his usual stuff ("t-rex gunner car" and "that I have a cooler toy than Noah") I heard his little voice say "I wish that no one would get sick or have nightmares." WHAT?!

Stop the presses. What did he say?! Did I hear that correctly?! Seriously, was that just in my head? Oh my heart, he actually said that! And it was completely unprompted and self-originating!

I'm realizing more and more that I can get my kids to obey me externally (by threatening all kinds of unpleasant consequences) but it's much harder to shape their inner moral life.

I don't just want them to share because they have to. I want them to want to share. Because they care about others' feelings. Because they are kind and gentle-hearted. Because they understand compassion.

I honestly don't care if my kids are "successful" or "accomplished" or wealthy. If they can just learn to wish for a better world for others, I will die a happy woman.

The Grown Up Baby

Noah is 90% walking now.

A week ago he took 4 tepid steps before crashing.  The next day he took 8.  The next day he walked half way across the room.  And now he's on 2 feet more than he crawls.

Knowing that Noah is 99.99% likely to be my last baby, watching him reach this milestone (to borrow another mommy blogger's expression) just hurts so good.

The night he started walking half way across the room, I dreamed of my once 2 week old burrito of love all fuzzy-headed and sweet-scented.  And I wanted THAT guy back again.  Which is completely insane because during the actual experience, I remember I was pretty miserable and wishing there was a button I could press to magically turn him into a 2 year old.

But parenting, as they say, is the ultimate disparity between the "experiencing self" and the "retrospective self." Things look diametrically different depending on where you stand in relation to the event. And looking back is always only chock-full of the mushy gushy good stuff.

But Noah could care less about my mush gushy nostalgia.  He is just trying to race ahead, even faster than Judah grew up it seems. Maybe that's what it means to have an older sibling--you just want to copy everything the bigger person does.

Noah doesn't smile or laugh a lot, but his biggest, brightest grins are always reserved for those occasions in which he knows he is copying his brother.

Noah only wants to drink from straws, like Judah.

He loves coloring, like Judah, and then whipping up his paper to show his handiwork, like Judah. He loves sitting in Judah's chairs and booster seats.

Coloring while sitting in Judah's favorite chair--the epitome of big-boy-dom for Noah!

And he absolutely loves wearing Judah's clothes. He is forever opening up Judah's drawers and pulling out a 3T shirt that he then tries to put over his head.

Noah is thrilled to be wearing Judah's everyday go-to jacket.

Noah raids Judah's closet like a fashionista looking for couture.

But I'm pretty sure, no matter what big boy skills he develops, I will forever think of him as my baby.  I wonder how that will play out through the years as he really does leave his babyhood far behind him. Will I be trying to hand him sippy cups of whole milk as he goes off to college?

Let's hope I get a grip on things before then.

Signs of Spring

We are not out of the woods yet.  But we're definitely getting closer.

One of the best parts of childhood--rubber rain boots.

Now that Noah is 13 months, I've had some time to feel like things are getting back in kelter. He's been sort of sleeping through the night for the last 3 months and he mostly just takes one nap a day now. That may not sound like much, but the accumulated effect is quite nice.  It boils down to me *usually* not being very sleep-deprived. And all of us *usually* able to plan and schedule outings with some degree of accuracy.

Rollin' with my Nomies.

And now that Judah is 3.5, he is definitely a lot easier to deal with. He mostly keeps his emotions in check and has cut way down on the oppositional behavior. About 6 months ago I was probably still giving him time outs at least once a day. Now we can go for week-long stretches without a single disciplinarian action.

And best of all, he plays by himself a lot. If you've been following Judah's development since birth, you know that's nothing short of a minor miracle. So take heart parents of clingy, attention-starved children! They do grow out of it! Of course, Judah being Judah, he's not that good at occupying himself. But compared to his younger self, he's like a freaking Olympic champ now.

The activities that hold his attention longest is building spaceships from bristle blocks and cutting construction paper. He says he's cutting out "badges" and likes to decorate them with hearts and write the occasional letter on them. "N" is for Noah. "M" is for Mommy. And "I [heart] U" is a little love badge just for his favorite person in the whole world--Mommy.

Super-heros and villians + bristle blocks = sanity for mommy

Judah likes to call himself a "cutter" and people who overhear give us weird looks.

Judah has always been a momma's boy and his crazy expressive affection has really exploded in the past few months. Now he can't go 10 minutes without exclaiming "I love you Mommy!" As flattered as I am, I'm pretty sure it's just kind of a tick at this point--kind of like love tourettes. He often exclaims love for all kinds of, uh, lesser-order-things, like string cheese and grapes.

But I'm sure a lot of it is genuine too. Judah's really into quantifying love these days. He says a lot of the following:
How much do you love me Mommy?
I love you as high as the moon, and then all the way up to heaven, plus a hundred, plus infinity.
I love you higher than Jesus' head. (That one made me pause for a sec...what?!)
I love you more than VIDEOS! (That actually melts my heart because the kid LOVES his videos.)
And the one that always stumps me--I love you more than you love me!
It turns out, it's really hard to explain to a 3 year old why that is kind of impossible.

I try to reason with him a little--No Judah, that's impossible because Mommy is a grown up and, and, and...I gave birth to you!  Yeah, not a convincing argument to him either.

And while Judah is very generous with his kisses, his brother is the miser-liest miser there ever was.  I beg Noah for kisses 50 times a day and although he clearly knows how to give them, he seems to take special joy in denying me each and every time.

And then Judah always chimes in to take away the sting of each rebuff--I'll kiss you Mommy!

Thank goodness for at least one kissy cuddly guy!

Just Call Me Mom-gyver

I'm not one to brag, but once in a while, you just have to let yourself do a little public victory dance. However small the victory.

So without further ado, I present to you, some accomplishments that I'm actually unequivocally proud of (and unfortunately for my family, parenting and homemaking does not make this list):

Or maybe I should just call this--"stuff I've fixed with duct tape."

Like this old BOB stroller.  The straps completely disintegrated under a Summer of sunshine.  And I couldn't reach corporate headquarters to request replacements because they are apparently never in the office.  Solution?  Duct tape.

What?  You slammed the buckle of your Ergo baby carrier in the car door and cracked the "male" part of the buckle for which there are no replacement options?  No worries, buy an extender and duct tape that baby up.  And yes, I find it kinda gross that buckles have "male" and "female" counterparts.

Can't get the baby foot rest pedal to stay on the push-trike?  Duct tape it!  Credit where it's due, the Spouse did this one.

There's just nothing like fixing old baby gear that gives me such unqualified pleasure.  Maybe it's the cheap Asian in me.  That's like, $600 in baby gear replacements I saved myself with just a few scraps of tape!