15 (months) going on 5

I swear, he thinks he’s five years old.

If anybody else has a fork and a spoon, he has to, too. He has to eat corn on the cob, in defiance of his mouthful of 7 teeth (two of which are no more than nubs).

He thinks he has to have whatever everybody else has, from toys to food; he often flatly refuses to drink milk from his sippy cup, or the plastic cup, because he wants WATER out of a GLASS GLASS like EVERYBODY ELSE.

He begs to have his teeth brushed. Yes, I said “begs.” He will actually go up the stairs on his own, and climb up on the stool and wait, howling for help. And lately he’s been trying to do it himself.

He’s learning to express his preferences through signs and by way of Julianna’s system of grunts. A sign takes him about three seconds to figure out; you can practically see the synaptic connections closing behind his eyes.

He thinks he’s five years old—except when it’s not to his advantage. Then, he’s all baby.

When an older sibling torments him (Alex through a surfeit of love, Julianna through pure cussedness…let’s be honest), the screams fill the entire three levels. He comes running to Mommy for a snuggle…but mostly because he thinks I’m too stupid to know that what he really wants is to bang on the computer keyboard. When you tell him he has to eat his vegetables and his meat before he gets a cracker/fruit/cheese/dessert—woe betide the world! Wailing commences! Unfortunately for Nicholas, he’s the third child. Mommy and Daddy are on to the manipulation game now. Temper tantrums get him nowhere. We’ve developed a tolerance for them, and if he outlasts our tolerance, he lands in his crib with the door closed.

It’s really fun to see him blossom like this. As Julianna continues her incremental quarter-steps forward, he leaps the chasm between them like Mario on a bonus. There is no getting used to the difference in the speed of their learning. Even though I know he’s tuned in to a cosmic radio wave she can’t hear and I have lost tuning for, I still can’t help shivering in wonder as I watch him learn.

Growth charts, begone! My baby’s growing just fine.

Mamarazzi Monday

Published in: on July 8, 2010 at 6:49 am  Comments (8)  
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Two Peas in a Pod

(or, What Happened Because of a Tire, Part Two. )

Motherhood Moments

Post-tire adventure, we piled back in the car and started down the highway again. Now Alex was the crabby one (he wanted the McDonald’s Playplace, not Pizza Hut), and this time he was the one who conked out immediately. Meanwhile, in the captain’s chairs, Julianna and Nicholas struck up an antiphonal chorus. Julianna clapped, Nicholas giggled. Nicholas clapped, Julianna giggled. Julianna squealed, Nicholas giggled. (He has such an adorable laugh.) Nicholas made raspberry noises, Julianna giggled. They stretched their arms across the divide between their chairs and shook hands, and both of them would collapse into hysterics simultaneously.

(Sorry for the poor exposure...it was the best I could get)

It was ten miles of entertainment for Mommy and Daddy, until Nicholas conked out mid-squeal and Julianna waved her empty hand at Nicholas, wailing, “Euh, euh!”

My little ones are two peas in a pod these days. As Nicholas barrels down on his big sister’s developmental age—not to mention her weight and height—they become more and more aware of their compatibility.

But of course, compatibility at this age also involves conflict. As the ranking child, Julianna must keep some measure of control. She likes to teach him…

"More"

…and lead him in chorus…

…and there’s a healthy dose of torment in their relationship, too. If he gets out of line (which means, uh…I don’t know, he looked at her funny?), she “hugs” him.

Yeah, like that. Involving lots of screaming and wailing from him, and a sly smile from her.

Hold onto control as long as you can, little girl. I estimate you’ve got six months, max, before he barrels past you, and starts dragging you along the path of developmental milestones.

Published in: on June 24, 2010 at 5:02 am  Comments (2)  
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And today, he walks

Motherhood Moments

Today, he stands.

Holding onto the coffee table, my unhurried child pulls up onto two little feet, flexing ten little toes more accustomed to “This Little Piggy” than to balance, and tentatively lets go. He wobbles for a second, finds his center, and starts forward: pit-pat, pit-pat. But he’s too far from the next point of support, so he sinks to sitting. And as Big Brother shrieks, “Good job, little boy!” he shows all five of his teeth in a smile that could light up Las Vegas.

Despite his small size, the doctor’s dependence on growth curves and insistence on endocrine tests, despite his meandering pace through the developmental milestones, he walks. After the spot-on-time forward charge of the first child and the eighteen-month concentrated effort it took to teach the second, my third child simply decides it’s time. And without fuss, without drawing attention, he walks.

And it warms a mother’s heart.

What is your motherhood moment this week?

Published in: on June 10, 2010 at 5:34 am  Comments (3)  
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7 Quick Takes, the Nicholas Edition

Every so often, I just have to write a Journal entry…because life is more than my own eloquence. Sometimes life is what the munchkins are achieving!

 

1. As I’ve said before, Nicholas is not a hurried child. Sometimes I have to wonder if that’s because I take a much more live-and-let-live approach to parenting him. When Alex was a baby, he got a lot more time with me sitting on the floor, teaching him to discern shapes and colors. He got a lot more concentrated “a sheep says baa, a cow says moo” time. After all, five years ago I had only one kid, and I wasn’t freelancing.

2. But I don’t really worry about this… parenting Julianna  has taught me that it’s going to happen sooner or later, and the fact that Nicholas does not have to battle his own genetics in order to learn takes away my sense of urgency. Shuts down the panic button on his behalf. After all, his big sister is still not talking. She’s barely imitating.

 3. On to the list of milestones…in the last week, Nicholas has learned to get over the lip of the bed/staircase safely and slide down on his tummy. His newfound independence is liberating for all of us, but it does mean that I no longer can count on finding him on the same level of the house where I left him.

4. This also means we have gotten away with not “baby-proofing” our second house, aside from a couple of electric plug covers (questionable in value, since most of the plugs are uncovered). I know this is heresy to most parents and ALL the parenting advice, but I mean really, have you ever tried to deal with those stupid plug covers? You practically have to have a pliers to get them out of the wall, and how safe is that? Shock yourself instead of the kid! No, we believe in keeping the kids close and teaching them to stay out of the dangerous areas.

5. Onward and upward. The really exciting news this week is that Nicholas has begun to let go—and even take a step or two independently. (At fourteen months, it’s about time!) I always thought kids learned to stand, then walk…but Nicholas is a believer in package deals, apparently. :)

6. He’s also developing his individuality—his personality, as it were. I’m enjoying watching him finally begin to bond with Daddy—he is such a Mama’s boy…I thought Alex took the cake on that, but holy cow, Nicholas wins hands down!…and you all know how heart-stopping it is to see the man you love, loving his children. Nicholas is doing some rudimentary signing, and he’s beginning to have preferences. Random things, like…he won’t eat unless he’s sitting in a regular chair. (Hahaha, I despise the high chair. I won’t eat a bite unless you put me in a chair so I can REALLY make a mess! BWAHAHAHAHA!) Two nights ago, I discovered that I could make one silly face/sound and send him into uncontrolled belly giggles. Oh, you can just imagine what an idiot I am making of myself the last two days!

Don't you just adore how babies play peekaboo? They think they're hiding, but they've GOT to keep an eye on you while they do it! :)

7. Speaking of individuality/personality…he asks to have his teeth brushed. ?????? I know—enjoy it while it lasts!

Have a great weekend!

Published in: on May 21, 2010 at 5:34 am  Comments (10)  
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Ordinary Hysteria

There are times when, as a parent, hysteria reigns. You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, but either way, it’s hysterical.

Julianna is giving us quite a few of those lately.

On Saturday night, Alex and Nicholas were sharing the bathtub. Julianna was waiting her turn, not so patiently, as witness: While I knelt at the far end of the hallway folding laundry, there came an earth-shattering shriek from Alex: “Mommeeeeeeee! Mommeeeeeee!!!! Come quick, come quick!” (Giggle giggle.) “Mommeeeeee! Julianna’s trying to put Sparkly Bear in the tub!”

By the time I arrived, it was far too late. Sparkly Bear, who is a super-soft green St. Patty’s day bear with little sparkles in his fur, was saturated. While Alex giggled uncontrollably, I squeezed and squeezed, and water poured back into the tub. I could already tell that Sparkly Bear would never look the same again. Julianna looked at me with utmost self-satisfaction and held out her hands for her favorite stuffed animal. “Euh?” she said.

“Oh, no,” I said, “you aren’t sleeping with Sparkly Bear tonight. Or probably for the next several nights!”

By Monday night he was only mildly damp, so Christian put Sparkly Bear in bed with our giddy-happy little girl. So this morning, Julianna began her morning ablutions with a visit to the potty chair. Then, having done her business, she came out to beg for praise. “Good girl!” Christian said. “Now go wake Alex up.”

So Julianna obligingly trotted across the hall and began banging on Alex’s back, saying, “Euh! Euh!” But Alex is almost the soundest sleeper in the house (second only to his daddy), so soon she gave up on him and decided to pick up Jack instead.

Now, Jack is Alex’s doll, a Christmas gift that he adores and sleeps with every night. Jack has to have his clothes changed and his booties on before bed. (We don’t know whether to think this is scary or adorable.) Julianna thinks Jack is pretty cool, too, and since Alex was asleep he wasn’t there to howl if she played with him. So off she trotted with him. Straight to the bathroom. Straight to put him “on” (read that: in) the toilet. The next thing I knew, I heard Christian shouting, “No, Julianna! NO, STOP! Awww, crap! 

Sometimes I want to wail hysterically, especially considering what she’s doing to her brother’s prized possession, and what his reaction is likely to be. And yet it’s wonderful to see her personifying an inanimate object—such a big developmental step. Huge. She wants to put dollies and animals in Nicholas’s chair, in strollers, in bathtubs, on toilets…it’s a sign that she’s generalizing big concepts. And that is a very good thing.

So more often, we laugh. A lot.

And that is a very good thing, too.

I think.

Unless she starts playing to her audience.

And that would NOT be a good thing.

(Linked to Moms’ 30-Minute Blog Challenge and Tuesdays Unwrapped.)

Published in: on March 16, 2010 at 8:56 am  Comments (8)  
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Partners In Crime

My baby is definitely not a hurried child. No, Nicholas is milking his babyhood for all it’s worth. At 11 months and 20 days, he has one tooth and crawls on all fours…unless he’s in a hurry, in which case he still thinks army crawling is the fastest way to get around.

He’s little enough (meaning he’s still nursing) that I still have to take him with me when I’m gone for long periods of time. A couple of weeks ago, that meant that he got some extra face time with Grandma in Jeff City when I had a meeting about the Children’s Therapy Act.

Too bad nobody loves me!

After three years of fighting for every milestone, as we do with Julianna, it’s a neverending source of awe for me when things just happen. They may be later than they were with my firstborn, but still, they happen. Nonchalantly. No fuss. Just, “Oh, I think today I’ll fold my hands when I hear you say, ‘It’s time to pray.’” Just, “Oh, I think I’ll start cruising the furniture today.”

Not so many months ago, the sight of his big sister was enough to make Nicholas scream in sheer terror. He still screams at her (and at his brother), but only when they’re lavishing an excess of love on him. He likes his personal space. At all other times, he thinks his big siblings are the coolest thing ever—and clearly, put on the earth to be his personal stand-up comedians.

In Julianna’s case, the feeling is mutual. It’s so funny to see how she tries to hold him like a baby, treat him like a baby, when he’s well on his way to being bigger than she is.

And I, as Mommy, stand off to the side and marvel. Because you see, as Nicholas catches up to Julianna developmentally, I get to watch two of my children make the same milestones at the same time. Right now, they are both high-jumping into a new plane of language comprehension. Julianna is learning to respond to instructions: put this in the trash, please, and carry your plate to the table. Nicholas isn’t at that level, but he, too, abruptly began showing his ability to process and respond to commands. As in, Nicholas, no touch!

In fact, in some ways Nicholas is already ahead of Julianna in speech issues. He experiments with far, far more sounds than she does, and says them far more regularly. Of course, in other ways she’s ahead of him—in deliberate imitation (everything comes out “muh” whether it’s supposed to be boo or ball or moon or mom or dog or dad, but she’s trying) and in responding to yes or no questions and making choices. This “he’s ahead-she’s ahead” dynamic means that they are incredibly well-matched right now. I am planning a scrapbook page called “Partners in Crime.” Here’s a preview.

Who, us? Pull books down? Never! It must have been that evil Big Brother.

Rattling the cage

Visit Tuesdays Unwrapped for more beauty in the ordinary.

Published in: on March 9, 2010 at 8:14 am  Comments (5)  
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Spreading Their Wings

 

It’s been a while since I took the kids to the Mall. What with Alex’s school and Julianna’s school, we haven’t had the time. So this week, when we landed at Kidz Court, I couldn’t even concentrate on doing any writing—it was too mesmerizing to watch them play on the soft oversized sport-themed play equipment.

It was Nicholas’s first time at the play area since he became mobile. He cruised along the benches; he tried hard to repeat his newest skill at home—namely, climbing up on the first stair of anything and stranding himself there—but all the first levels were too tall for his chubby little legs.

For the first time…um, in her entire life, I think…Julianna responded to my instructions. She hovered, trembling with energy, at the entrance to the play area, poised to vault out into the Mall proper. “Julianna!” I said sternly. “Julianna Basi!” She looked over her shoulder and grinned at me. “Come here. Now.” And giggling, she came tearing over to give me a hug. She climbed the slide stairs and went down all on her own. Multiple times. And when she got confused how to get back to the top of the slide, I told her, “Go around the basketball, Julianna.” And she did it. (Remember what I said about the smallest victories being so big?)

And Alex worked up the nerve to jump from the tennis shoe to the soccer ball, one of which is taller than he is. Always before, he has asked for my help. To see him achieving a new level of independence is very gratifying.

Altogether, the hour at Kidz Court served as a reminder to me that at every moment, they are growing, even though sometimes they seem frozen at a helpless, needy stage. It’s a reminder I really needed.

Published in: on February 25, 2010 at 8:43 am  Comments (1)  
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Transitions

I used to think that the poems, stories and songs that came to me easily were divinely inspired, and must be the best work I’d ever do. But usually, two days’ reflection revealed them to be trash. Over time, I’ve become suspicious of “easy.” I’ve come to believe that the meaning of life lies in the struggle. That life, and achievements, and all things worth pursuing, are less about the end point than they are about the journey there.

This is something that becomes crystal clear to me this morning, as I sit in the playroom at the special ed office watching five women take notes on my daughter’s every utterance and action. This is their work, what they do every day: to classify, organize and judge her abilities in order to prepare an “Individualized Education Program.” It’s oh, so ordinary to them. They are sweet ladies, but it’s all business, an intellectual exercise.

It’s tempting to sit at the side of the room and cringe when Julianna doesn’t identify, classify and group properly; when they ask her to do things we’ve never tried with her. It’s tempting to start jabbering, to justify what we have and have not done; what she can and cannot do; to make excuses for the skills she does not have. But I hold my tongue, because I know that they are not here to pass judgment on my parenting skills. Shepherding Julianna through her first three years has taught me that some questions have to be asked, even when it seems irrational to do so.

But more than anything else, life with Julianna has taught me that all things worth having are worth struggling for. She has taught me the sweetness of a milestone achieved, and the peace of accepting the ones not achieved.

It is a lesson that God prepares anew for me every day—and one that I will always need to be reminded of. My sweet girl, how I love you. How you change me…how you make me holy, my little angel girl.

(This post is linked to Tuesdays Unwrapped at chattingatthesky.com.)

Published in: on January 19, 2010 at 11:47 am  Comments (10)  
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Child of the Moon

Julianna loves books. She loves music. And especially, she adores reading books that can be sung. When Alex was little(r), I used to scour the section of the children’s stacks for books on trains and emergency vehicles. Nowadays, I scour the poetry section for songs I know.

One of her favorites is called Child of the Moon. Jeanne Cotter is a versatile lady—singer, pianist, composer, songwriter, and retreat presenter—whom we got to know long before we had children. It was her retreat for composers that gave me the last skills I needed to “break in” and get music accepted by GIA and WLP. And it was on the first day of her retreat that I found out that after three long, barren years, there was life growing inside my womb.

Before I left Minnesota that week, I bought Child of the Moon. Alex loved it for a while, and insisted on naming each and every animal on every page. And now, it’s Julianna’s turn.

Recently, Julianna “spoke” her first “word.” It emerged while reading that book. “When all the world is sound asleep, the… what is that, Julianna? Can you say mmmmmmmmmoon?”

“Mmmmmah,” she said. The sound went like a lightning bolt through my veins—after all, she’d never, not even once, consented to imitate a sound we asked her to make. The world went crazy for a minute—shrieking, clapping, hugging, kissing. Julianna was in Heaven.

Since then, she has begun to anticipate the actions I do: rocking back and forth like Grandma’s wooden chair, tumbling into sleep’s embrace, holding her near. My heart warms every time I sing it to her and see the clear language comprehension. There’s not a single animal in the book that my almost three-year-old can recognize, much less sign—they’re all forest animals, not livestock—yet she sits by herself and flips the pages endlessly. And I love singing it to her. Last night, Alex was singing along with me at the top of his lungs from the bathroom.

It makes me want to give Jeanne a big hug.

Published in: on December 22, 2009 at 6:45 am  Comments (2)  
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Cookie Monster

The house smells like gingerbread this morning, which I suppose makes the seven hours spent in the kitchen yesterday worthwhile: 1 ½-batch of gingerbread, double batch of sugar cookies, single batches of chocolate cutouts and peanut butter ball filling…three loaves of bread…and a chicken and rice casserole.

We were cookie monsters yesterday. Nicholas spent a good part of yesterday sitting in his high chair, staring openmouthed at the bustle in the heart of the home. Julianna “helped” me make the chocolate cookies and the peanut butter balls…I use the term loosely because the second batch took three times as long as it should have, because every time I turned away to get another ingredient, she dove for the batter. She turned on the mixer while the spatula was in the bowl; she picked up the spatula and flung runny peanut butter all over the kitchen…

Definitely a cookie monster!

We resemble cookie monster in another way, too. It seems that Cookie Monster is always hanging around when Ernie is trying to teach a letter. Well, it’s a turning point time in speech/language/reading in our house, too. A couple of weeks ago, we decided that Julianna had her first “proto-word”—mmmm, as in “moon.” But it’s been scattered and hard to get her to do it. Last Thursday during speech therapy, she suddenly made a breakthrough. “Say ‘mmmmmmma,’ Chris said, and Julianna puckered her lips and said, “MmmmmmmAH.” The world went crazy for a few minutes, and then Chris said, “Can you go give that spoon to Mmmmmma?”

Even now, five days later, it’s only half connected in her brain, but this is the first deliberate imitation Julianna has done, and that is a huge step forward in terms of my almost-three-year-old learning to talk.

Meanwhile, Nicholas has good receptive language—he’s been responding to “kiss Mommy” for a couple of months already—but yesterday he had his own breakthrough. I was cutting up grapes for him, and when he finished the first bunch, he started fussing. I turned around and said, “Do you want more?” I took his hands and hand-over-handed him through the sign, and his face absolutely lit up. He finished his second bunch, and I said again, “Do you want more?” He giggled and grinned at the word, and as soon as I touched his hands, he balled them into fists. Yessssss! We really do think that Nicholas talking may be the spur Julianna needs to get talking.

This hasn’t been my most organized post, but I hope I can make it up to you by sharing a couple of seriously cute pictures. Nicholas is a bad napper, and he got up just as I was taking my only baking break to work on writing, so I put him on the floor. A few minutes later, I realized that Alex was beside him looking at the “Killer Dinosaurs” book. “This is the scariest monster of all!” he was telling his baby brother very seriously. “It has the sharpest teeth. You don’t want to get around this monster or his brothers!”

"This is a scary monster. He can run really fast and eat you..."

"My big brother is SOOOO interesting!"

This post is linked with Tuesdays Unwrapped at chattingatthe sky.com, where you can find more stories of the beautiful in the ordinary.

Published in: on December 8, 2009 at 6:39 am  Comments (8)  
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