Being a sibling is growing on her.

You know how you look when you’re sweaty?  Kinda deflated, right?  My face gets red and then my lips go slack and then I look a bit like a rosy-drunk toad. I’ll spare you the picture.

And then there’s my daughter.

 And this little guy.

Nothing toad-like about them.

When God says He gives us new life, besides all the cool things that it clearly means theologically, I think it also means that we respond to life’s challenges with a newness of life as well (and no, I’m not talking about sweltering weather).  After all, we have His Holy Spirit inside us.  It’s  a little bit like how my kids look awesome when they’re sweaty, while Miss 40-Something looks like a rosy toad.

It was a long day and my little goober found that warm water mighty lovely.

I remember reading that in France, mothers teach their daughters how to dress well with very small wardrobes.  They are taught what pieces they need and how to put them together simply and tastefully.

I wonder what the French CPS would do with this.

Oh, and of course, it was 90 degrees Fahrenheit that day.  For those of you who can’t see it clearly, she’s wearing a double layered knit frog scarf around her neck and frog mittens on her feet.

When DD was two, we bought her her first 24-piece puzzle.  But that wasn’t until I’d gone to multiple stores to find the most suitable puzzles (fruitlessly, as I was being a perfectionist) — hoping to find 14-piece puzzles, wholesome themes, etc. .

Yes, I am retentive sometimes. 

So we sat her down and did a puzzle for her.  I think to her, it was a kind of magic — all these pieces coming together to make a picture.  She’d ask us to do it over and over.

She immediately wanted to help do one.  I carefully explained how we separate the edge-pieces, how we turn the pieces face-up, bla, bla, bla.  I’m such a dork.  I SO didn’t get it.  It’s a year later.  She still doesn’t start with the edges.  She starts with the eyes…always the eyes.  I think that she’ll be doing puzzles for years before she does it the way I instructed her that day one year ago. 

I have much to learn as a parent about how kids acquire knowledge, understanding and wisdom.

Until then, I remain a dork.

July, 2006

July, 2007  

  July, 2008

July, 2009

Kate is nursing Daisy Duck.  Oh Sweet Cheeks, you do your mama proud.

Oliver gets one to three bites a day right now.  I’m going to back off of the bananas for a bit and see if I can sneak garlic into his food.  The poor guy is almost polka dotted.

It used to be “p0rn” and  “hot p0rn”.  

We would drive by Target where Kate clearly remembers getting the slushy-popcorn special and she would yell out, “Buy p0rn!”;  She’ll never know how she made us laugh.

Yesterday it became “pap0rn”.

Today it is “papap0rn”.  And I know that soon she’ll get it right and say, “popcorn”. 

While sometimes we figure out the first time our children do things (stand up, roll over, say ‘mama’) , we never know when the last time is that  they’re going to do some particular cute thing or say that one silly phrase that makes you smile.  And then it’s gone, never to be done spontaneously again.

Kate’s two-year-old sweetness slipped away quietly.  And while it’s been replaced by three year old sweetness, I could just kick myself for not savoring every single lovely moment that is now gone.

You know how I’m all exhausted because my son doesn’t sleep at night?  You know how I’m not even functioning because my son keeps waking up time and time again at night to nurse?  You know how Kate isn’t getting proper parenting and the house is a HUGE mess because DS wakes up sometimes six times a night after refusing to go to bed until after 11:00 pm?  You know how I’m ruining my professional reputation because I can’t even rub two brain cells together most days?

Guess what?  Problem solved. 

Problem solved in just under three days. 

That doesn’t mean I’m back to normal yet.  But it does mean that Oliver now wakes up ONE time per night.  And he’s going to bed at a sensible time.

First, let me mention that Oliver wouldn’t take a sippy cup (or bottle).  Just wouldn’t.  I tried every couple of days, but no interest.  I should have been trying at 10:00 pm  at night.  Apparently there’s a LOT of interest for him then.  That is why he wouldn’t go down without a fight.  He was thirsty and my not-so-bodacious tata’s weren’t meeting the need.  Rome figured this out one Wednesday night after I spent THREE hours trying to get him down. Nurse, rock, lay in crib, give up, give him more food, repeat. 

Rome gave him a sippy cup.  Three gulps later he was asleep.,

Then when he woke up at 12:55 am for milk, I gave him a sippy cup of water first.  Roman could hear him gulping from across the room.  Then I nursed him back down and he only woke up three more times that night.

Next, we moved him out to the living room.  Interesting, he only woke up one time and then at the alarm clock at 5:45 …which woke him up four rooms away.  It took me two nights of this for the truth of the matter to dawn on me.  If the thirst issue is fully taken care of, and if Oliver is still in our bedroom, he still wakes up three to four times a night, though he goes down easily…and not necessarily even with nursing.  Move him to the living room and he sleeps through the night.  Hmmmm.  Why?  You see, I was expecting for him to have to get used to Momma not responding to his cries as quickly bla, bla, bla.  That wasn’t it.  He instantly slept through the night with only one wake up cry.

It took me two nights of good sleep to figure it out.  We’ve always known Oliver is a light sleeper;  I’m a light sleeper.  And my dearest, darling, and delicate husband rarely mentions it, but I snore.  And apparently I snore alot. (Personally, I think he’s kinda in shock that the target of his romantic interests can shake the walls down, so he’d rather not mention it.  I say, “Just roll me over.”  Really.  I. Won’t. Mind.)

So let’s do the math.  I snore.  Oliver’s a light sleeper. 

I’m the one waking him up FOUR to SIX times a night. 

It was ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bwaaahaaahaaahaaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Disclaimers:  I moved Kate into the nursery on her third day home.  Really.  We kept Oliver in the bedroom with us primarily because his breathing patterns made us nervous.  And then we didn’t move him into the nursery because he’d wake her up.

OK, her latest fascination is with sticks and seed pods. 

Kate carefully selects out the twigs that she wants to add to her collection.

A Three-Year-Old’s Treasures!

I feel so Charlotte Mason!