To Have an Ordinary Child

The 2012 Summer Olympics marked the first time I watched the games as a parent of two mobile, destructive active children. As such, I noticed different things about the coverage. I noticed the parents. They were there in the
stands going through every emotion of which a human spirit is capable (Notice how I managed to not end in a preposition by sounding like a Bronte sister. It's August, my inner teacher needed some stretching.) as their children achieve (or failed to achieve) feats that took the body and mind to the absolute limit. Really, even though they are spectators, they are the ones who made it happen or at least started their child down the path. They figured out how to maneuver through coaches and money and schedules and school and practices to make sure their child's Olympic dream came true. They had to decide, usually when their child was at very young age, how far they all were willing to go. It is an epic feat of parenting. There should be medals. (See what I did there? Heh.)
Is it wrong that I sort of hope that it is never me?
As a parent, aren't I suppose to want my child to be Olympics (Am I the only one who can never type Olympic correctly the first try?) level extraordinary? Isn't it every parents dream to have their kid achieve such a lofty goal?
It just kind of ties me in knots because I worry about my kids having an extraordinary talent. It can take over lives. It can be the end all and be all of not only that kid's life, but the parent's, siblings', grandparents', third cousins' lives too. Striving to always be the best at something that could potential be humanly impossible is a lot to put on a kid especially when a lot of these athletes start at five or six. (Note: I apply this idea to all talents, music, art, dance, juggling, jousting, etc.)
As the parents, it would be John's and my role to make CJ or Leila find balance if they happen to be in the upper echelon of some active community. While we would be numbing our butts in bleachers and screaming our heads off, we would also have to make sure there was time for school and friends and family and other pursuits. It would be up to us to make sure that if the dream is Olympic gold and that never happens, that life is not over.
That is a lot of pressure on parents on top of the pressure of just being a parent. The pressure of extraordinary reverberates through a person's life, and the first choices on the path are made by the parents. Please, don't think I am disparaging athletes or their parents. On the contrary, I am in some awe of them. But I am scared to be one. I would not let that fear stand in the way if CJ or Leila prove to have the talent and the drive, but that doesn't stop it from existing. It will be there even if I end of being interviewed by Bob Costas.
(The parentheticals were inspired by Megan at Best of Fates, the queen of the parentheticals.)

While We're Away, the Kids Will Get Hurt

Last weekend, John and I went to BlogHer. For those of you unfamiliar with the conference and too lazy to follow the link (I know who you are.), it is an event for lots of bloggers (mostly of the female variety) to get together to drink network and party boarden their blogging opportunities. It was a really amazing time. John and I are attention whores people persons, so it was great to meet friends, old and new, who until Friday and Saturday had only lived in our computers via Facebook, Twitter, and some truly wonderfully written blogs.
On Saturday evening, we were doing some pre-dinner chatting over some drinks in the hotel bar when a text came in from Alex with this picture.

Yes, that's Leila's foot swollen to an alarming size. (Hey, it might not be alarming to you, but it was to her mom.) Alex was asking if she could give her Benedryl. The official party line on Benedryl is that no one under four should even be able to look at the stuff. The unofficial word is that a half dose or so has saved my kids some rough times. So I told Al to do the half dose. She ended up putting some cream on it. By the time we got home on Sunday, the red was gone and the swelling was significantly less. Chances are it was some kind of a bite. She had had something similar around her eye early this summer. The doctor had said keep an eye on it. So, you know, it was not worrisome. I guess.

Now, my sister and my mother did everything I or John would have done for Leila. In no way shape or form would our presence in Carlisle instead of NYC have changed any treatment or conditions. 

Try telling that to my mom guilt heart. I did enjoy myself for the evening over a lovely Italian dinner and too many Asian appetizers, but part of me, more than would have been pre-text message, was trying to parent through my phone; texting questions. Was the foot hot to the touch? Was she favoring it? Did she have a fever? None of which were really constructive, but when your kid is remotely injured or sick, you must know everything. And not being there to find out was painful. While laughing and chatting and watching dogs and bloggers strut down a runway (If you don't know, you don't really need to.) a part of me was calculating the potential cabfare and time back to Will's apartment in Brooklyn (where we stayed) then the drive home if any of the answers my mom or sister were sending me proved too vexing. Maybe hopping a train would be quicker?

Essentially, the point  of the post is, parental love is not logical thus should not be trusted to respond reasonably even if the said parent appears to be acting reasonably. You may find this knowledge useful at some point if you end up dealing with a parent in such a state.

My Kids Are Beach Kids

You never know what your kids are going to like. You just pray it's something you can stand. Phineas & Ferb over Jake & the Neverland Pirates, for instance. (What? Those little pipsqueaks give me a cavity.) Or Click Clack Moo for the millionth time instead of that damned Easter Bunny book for the hundredth.
Then there are times when they love what you love. This happened with the beach. John and I are both beach people. Hours in a beach chair just watching waves or reading with a dip or two in the ocean was a perfect vacation for us. Now those trips are more about running around after the kids as they cover themselves in sand and run away (CJ) from the waves or run into (Leila) them. It is not as relaxing as it once was, but it is just as satisfying if not more so.
John and CJ spent hours together, John waist-deep in the water with CJ on his hip waiting to jump the big ones.

Leila and I joined them for spurts, but she really preferred jumping around in the surf on her own independent terms or with a friend.

And, of course, it wasn't a day at the beach unless they were covered from hairline to toe nails in sand. There was hole digging and sandcastle destroying. Yes, destroying. They were very anxious to have someone else build one so they could go Godzilla on it. Even after hours on the beach, going home was a little disappointing even though they looked cool doing it. 

We're also glad they are turning into biking kids too.
Even though CJ is cautious, they are both kids who will try something new like riding a horse. Chincoteague and Assateague are known for the wild horses that roam the wild life refuge.

We plan on at least one annual trip to the beach. I love knowing that it will be something the kids look as forward to as I do.

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Camping with Toddlers! And others

We took the kids camping for the first time this weekend. We went to Killen's Pond state park in near Rehoboth, Delaware. John picked that area for a very specific reason. We went with some old friends and some new friends. There were eight kids in all, but eight adults, so we managed to maintain some order with man-on-man coverage. Somewhat.
The campsites were beautiful. There was plenty of shade and quiet and a really pretty meadow. It was a little inconvenient to the bathrooms, but it was worth it to not be near the RVs and their generators.
John and another dad, Jason, along with his two minions sons, Anthony and Ethan went down on Thursday to set up camp toddler-free. CJ's insistent,"I halp!" is cute, but potentially dangerous when putting up a tent. And God bless them because it was HOT! They were real troopers. When I showed up with our kids, other mom, Kirsten, and other toddler, Keira, on Friday, we dropped our stuff, looked around, and said, "Water park!"
Best. Idea. Ever.

  (courtesy of Domestic Deeds)

When we got back much cooler and happier, it stormed (shortly after the rest of our friends, the Layous and Aycocks, arrived and got their camps set up). Which is not the ideal camping fun unless it is breaking the gawd awful heat. Also it was awesome because it made this happen.

Fortunately, the rain stopped long enough to let us get dinner (kabobs over the fire thanks to John.) in and a quick round of s'mores before it started up again and drove us to our tents. Sleeping in a tent with toddlers does not involve much sleeping. It involves much rolling off of an air mattress and John eventually sleeping across the bottom of said mattress. Thank goodness I am short.
Fortunately, there were pancakes and bacon and coffee in the morning, thanks to the Deeds, followed by another trip to the water park where Leila spent her time running from one slide to another while CJ tormented sprayed victims friends with a play hose. After lunch we decided it was nap time. They were asleep before we got them to the car in the water park parking lot. Once back at camp we settled in for some actual camping. John entertained the children.

   (again, Deeds pictures, thanks Kirsten.)


While the Layous made us a delicious tortilla dinner. Camping is really mostly about the food.
We taught the kids basic camping skills that involve sticks and marshmallows .

I shall gloss over the epic tantrum CJ throw before finally falling asleep on Saturday and just say we were all so satisfyingly exhausted that tent sleeping was possible. Sunday we had another delightful breakfast, courtesy of the Aycocks followed by the not-so-fun packing, courtesy of John, but then a delightful lunch at Dogfish Head Brew Pub in Rehoboth before we all parted company. John and I took the kids for a quick trip to the beach before heading home. Leila, of course, ran straight into the waves, while CJ made John hold him for a couple of minutes before getting his toes wet. 

All in all the kids were a delight for most of the trip, and I think I can safely say that they had an excellent time. I see many a family and friends camping trip in our future. 

Motel Toddler

We had our first experience with the kids in a hotel. I learned a lot.

The room was really set up for me. All the surfaces, including the sink, were low, a bonus for a short person. Not a bonus for a short person, with toddlers, who wants to sit and eat a sandwich and watch the television.

One of CJ's favorite things is ice, and here, right in front of him, was a bucket full of it. I don't think he knew that much could exist, and there was nowhere to put it out of his reach. Heck, even the fridge was within his grasp. As was the door that's latch was on the loose side. As were the television buttons.

Within minutes of entering the room, we had to disconnect the phone because Leila was talking on it and pressing buttons. You know she would have managed to call Luxembourg, and it would have ended up cheaper to buy the motel than pay the long distance bill. Honestly, until Saturday night, I wasn't sure they knew what a lan line phone was for.

We decided to get a room with a king sized bed. Even at home, the kids end up in our bed every night, so there is no chance they won't when we are away. It was easier to just start out that way. In theory. Apparently, in her sleep, Leila mistook the new environment for an obstacle course with John and I being the obstacles. Her favorite obstacle was John's head though she might have thought that was a sparring dummy with the amount of kicking it she did. Maybe she is a Potential. At one point she, for her own reasons, crawled to the bottom corner of the bed and just passed out there, face down, sprawled. I ended up sleeping with my head down next to her, with my hand on her, so she wouldn't roll off the bed. I wasn't about to move her once she actually fell asleep.

CJ, you ask? He pretty much slept through it all.

In the morning, there were really only two things that were going to make John and me functional, showers and hot beverages of the Starbucks variety.

Our First Snow Adventure

We have not done much with this blog. We put so much on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, that it can be hard to find more to add. But now that the kids are a little older, and we can go on more adventures, we'll try to elaborate on them here. Hopefully.
Any snow adventure starts with the snow suit prep. This? Is a process, especially the first time when the kids have to investigate all the puffy warmness first. But within an hour of starting, we had all four of us ready for action.
The sliding glass door open, and the kids ran out in excitement. They stopped short. Walking was hard! Arms up! Mum! Da! (When it comes to calling us, apparently our kids become Irish.) Thus carrying them out of the fence to our little hill commenced.
They stayed true to their personalities. Leila thought laundry basket sledding was great.

CJ did not. He liked flinging snow.

It wouldn't pack into balls. And of course once they got use to the idea, running around in the snow was great.


They both thought snow angels were lame.
Of course the best part was introducing them to after snow hot chocolate.
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Useful site and free stuff

As fundraising will probably be in my parental future, this looks like a helpful site. And I really want an iPad.
a Rafflecopter giveaway



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How to Scare Away Ducks

My iPhone is currently residing in a bag of rice. Why? Well, it got wet, and the hope is that the rice will draw the moisture out of the phone. What? Oh. How did it get wet? Fine.

First you have to understand the daredevil to whom I have given birth. I wish I could put into words Leila's level of fearlessness. I think if the boogeyman showed up in her room she would squeal, clap her hands and give him a kiss on his nose. At 16 months, I think she would bungee jump.

Today at 11 AM, we met some moms and kids from the Carlisle chapter of MOMS Club at Boiling Springs Children's Pond to feed the ducks. Ducks like Cheerios. CJ likes throwing Cheerios. It's a win win. Leila loves to watch the ducks eat Cheerios. Win win win. Only she really wanted to get up close and personal with the ducks. We played a game of move-the-toddler, but she really wouldn't stay away from the edge. I decided to pick her up and hold her. She resisted and slipped from my grip. Her escape route? Over the edge into the water two feet below. Now she was in there for less than 30 seconds. Probably less than 20 as I was right behind her. I had her out of the water and back up on the shore where the moms (THANK YOU) had her wrapped in a blanket before she could start crying (which she did a lot and loudly). I had to wade to a boat launch to get myself out. Seriously, the whole thing lasted less than a minute before I was holding my wet baby trying to comfort her, but people? The image of my daughter lying on her back completely under water is not going to leave me any time soon. I still feel extra adrenaline in my system, and while I am dry, I feel waterlogged. Leila? She's enjoying Lion King and trying to climb the pub table's stool so she can play with the light switch.

Define

It has become politically incorrect to put labels on people and for some good reasons. In the past and still today unfortunately, many of these labels, black, gay, etc., are used to demean and repress those seen as Other. Yet labels have their place. Humans work better with a frame of reference. It gives us a jumping off point for our journey into the world outside ourselves. As long as we don't make the labels more important that the people we are applying them to, they are a handy tool our brains use to cope with all the input we receive.

And while labeling the world around us is important, the most important labels are the ones we give ourselves. Some are simple: brunette, short, Greek, thirty-four. Others are a little more complex: funny, friendly, smart, forgetful. Then there are the ones we use to define ourselves, the ones that shape the decisions we make and the life we lead. They can come in a variety of categories. Career: Writer, Teacher, Librarian. Talents: Writing, Knitting, Photography. Family: Daughter, Sister, Wife, Mother. Throughout our lives as we grow, they change. Some disappear, others are added. The level of importance of each always morphing along a sliding scale.

Some people have shining label that glow and drive them. They become not just a label but a definition of our core selves. Actress, Athlete, Reporter, Engineer, Professor, Artist, Volunteer, Activist. Especially in our youthful adulthood the career labels often are the ones of most important or at least daily focus. The family ones obviously grow in import if you choose to start a family with a significant other and perhaps children.

I never felt the pull of a Career. I had jobs I liked, that I worked hard at, but while they were labels, they were never definitions. I always felt my family connections more even at the time of my life when they are often more in the background. I have always been the most proud of being a good daughter and sister and then wife. And when I became a mother, I found my definition. I know it is the one label I was meant to carry and turn into a definition of my self. It is hard. It is exhausting. It is my natural state of being. That is an awesome understanding, and I love the truth of that statement. Yet I worry just a little. It is a definition that is fundamentally about others, one in which I can easily lose myself to the fulfillment of my children. Other parents I know still have careers and talents that are definitions, not just labels. They are of an import in their lives that they go to extraordinary lengths to juggle all the parts of their cores. I juggle diapers and toys, laundry and a vacuum, a part-time job and workouts. And I am very content. I wonder if I should be. Is it enough to have one definition and many labels? Will labels be enough when my kids no longer need constant attention? Maybe a label or two will then change to a definition. Who knows? Maybe I'm worrying for nothing. I am glad it is just a tiny worry, a rumination, really. I wonder if I am the only one who has it.

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Pet Peeve

Here's a pet peeve of mine. Upon hearing the story of my children's births, inevitably there is someone who will say, "See all you had to do was relax to get pregnant." Um, no. First, saying that when I couldn't conceive was utterly non-helpful. Saying it now is just silly and makes you sound like you think you're omnipotent. Second, that time in my life was more stressful than any other I can remember. We'd gone through two failed matches, one of which involved an elaborate lie that kept us on the hook for over a month, and CJ's due date was changed from September to November. His birthmother had issues of her own so contact was spotty at best. We were tied in emotional knots, trying to be excited but so scared of being let down again. And somehow in the midst of all this, one lone sperm found an egg and decided to stay long term paying no attention to John's or my emotional states.
So, please, consider this a PSA. When you run into someone with a similar story, don't bluster. Just be pleased for them, thank God or Fate or The Flying Spaghetti Monster or Chaos, and tell them both kids are adorable. Don't analyze or guess or in any way try to figure out why it happened just glory in the fact that it did.
Thank you for your time.


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Even the Kids Know You're Nuts

I have what polite people refer to as independent children. I call them stubborn. For instance, I cannot feed them. If I try, say, yogurt on a spoon, they grab for the spoon to try and shove it everywhere but their mouths. They don't speak, but they say "Myself!" with their eyes.
Another way this "independence" manifests is the brushing of teeth. They will not in any way, shape, or form allow me to guide the toothbrush, so there is actual brushing. Instead I hand over the brush fully loaded with fake baby paste/gel, so they can suck and gnaw on it. I do not in anyway see this as useful dental care. My strategy has become to demonstrate what I want them to do by overly exaggerating the brushing of my own teeth. This? They find hilarious, so they are now sucking and gnawing on their own toothbrushes while laughing.
Parenthood is an absurdity sometimes.

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Sand, It's What's for Dinner

I love the beach. Me, a beach chair, a good book and the sound of the surf for hours at a time. Nothing is more relaxing.

At least that is what I remember.

Now it takes three trips from the car to the Compound (That would be four pop-up canopies we put up for our large group), and I barely get to put my butt cheeks anywhere near my beach chair. Because toddlers at the beach are non-stop, especially with they are my children. I ask you what one-year-old crawls pell-mell towards the waves, giggling all the way? What 1.5-year-old thinks dumping handfuls of sand into his hair is the more fun he has ever had? The answers naturally are my kids. Seriously, it was the best vacation ever.

As the Compound can attest to, we go to the beach with a group of about 20 people, give or take as some come for a couple days as others leave, and at least a third of them are four and under. So we do set up a canopy town and have every sand toy known to Man.

Leila and CJ were at the beach last year, but they didn't really do anything exciting. This year it was all about sand and surf. Sand was mostly about eating it and wearing it. I am not a person who minds sand. I love the beach. Sand is part of the experience, but they were coated from head to foot in it thus, I was covered in it as well. It was a little much even for me. They thought it was food and a toy all in one!

Both of them loved the water. They are really fearless. CJ is a tad more reserved than Leila. He would go in if he was firmly holding on to an adult, but as I stated previously, Leila would crawl down the beach like a maniac towards the ocean. She loved it.

All in all, they are beach babies which is great because we are beach parents. I can't wait for the new memories and milestones each summer will bring.

Jedi Mom

I was solo for bedtime last night, and it was Friday. I have a tendency to be a little more lax on Fridays, so I didn't push sleepy time too hard. Leila was out by nine, and CJ held on until nine thirty. John got home, and we were in bed around ten thirty.
At eleven, CJ started fussing. I waited. Fussing turn to crying. I got up and got him back to sleep. I started to nod off. Leila starts fussing. I waited. A little more fussing. In my half stupor I start thinking I can comfort her from where I am. I start imagining waves of motherly comfort exuding from my body, riding currents of air, permeating the walls and crashing over my children like the surf on the sand.
Leila stopped fussing. I hold my breath. I have to breath again and still quiet.
I am a Jedi! I can control the moods of children who I can't even see. I shall be honored and teach other parents how to Jedi parent. Yoda would bow to me. It will be a parenting revolution.
Then Leila started screaming. Loudly.
On a sigh, I get up and go to physically parent.

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Where earrings are swallowed and barbaric yawlps are heard

I'm cross-posting this over at Daddy Runs a Lot.

It had been a very, very long day. For the most part, the kids had been good - they woke up in a foreign house (we spent Saturday night in northern Virginia with friends), spent several hours in the car, got fun & sun in Grandy's pool¹, and we were hitting the "home stretch" for bedtime.

I'm not a stickler for routine. I have some friends who have the bedtime process working like a well-oiled machine, and I envy these friends . . . except when something goes astray. When the routine is broken, the meltdowns are truly epic. And, I'm pretty sure that these kids are being set up to be drug addicts. But, I digress. I don't have a bedtime routine. Sometime between 7 & 8, it's time to gauge the situation. If one kid is over-tired and throwing a fit, I'll place said kid in a death grip and fall asleep cuddle until the kid's fight to stay awake dies. If the kid is truly off the walls, I'll throw said kid in a stroller and walk around the block. But, for the most part, I'll simply let the kids play until they're showing signs of imminent sleep.

When both Duffy & I are in the room, and sleep appears imminent, both kids have the same pattern. They'll start with one of us, and we'll feed them milk, but when they realize that they're falling asleep, suddenly they need the other parent to hold them. Not uncommonly in this exchange, they'll find a second wind. Last night was no different.

Duffy had Leila, and I had CJ, and things were going pretty good. I thought CJ was about asleep when Duffy took out her earrings because Leila was tugging on them. I did something stupid & CJ awoke with a bolt. He walked over to Duffy because, obviously, I was using some sort of black magic to nearly have him asleep, and he wanted none of it.

Duffy now had both babies, Leila nearly asleep, when CJ saw something on the floor that had to be investigated. So, Duffy put him down, but he then saw the earrings sitting on the snack table.

He grabbed one.

As toddlers are wont to do, he put it in his mouth.

I sprang into action.

I saw the earring in his mouth, and then put my finger into his mouth to sweep it out.

He bit my finger.

I recoiled.

I put my finger back in his mouth, and the earring was not there.

He bit my finger again.

There was but a split second that he could have spit the earring out, and I still hold hope that he did just that, but I think it's safe to say that a bead, dangling on 14k wire is in a toddler's digestive system.

This was not something I was used to. And I had no idea what to do. I have medical professionals that I'm "close to" via Twitter. My mother is a retired operating room nurse. My father-in-law (he of the pool) is a physician's assistant. We made the decision to call my father-in-law, and he basically told us that, if he really swallowed it, there isn't much to do but wait for it to pass.

Yeah, through the other end.

An emergency room visit would only yield an x-ray, to confirm what we already knew. For now, we just needed to wait.

Duffy hung up the phone after talking to her dad, and the two of us scoured the room, trying to figure out if, maybe, he did spit things. It's safe to say we were freaking out, though not nearly as badly as we might. It was a bad situation, but it wasn't horrible.

In the middle of all of this, Leila, who had been sitting in the middle of the commotion, playing with a set of blocks, decides to up & stand on her own two feet. The commotion stops as Duffy & I stare, slack-jawed, at our daughter.

Because she must be the center of attention, she started babbling at a volume that only she can reach. After her little nonsensical monologue, she sat back down and resumed the block playing.

You know that scene in Dead Poets Society where they're reading Whitman? "I sound my barbaric yawp"? Well, this certainly felt like Leila sounding her barbaric yawp.

In the aftermath, diaper changing ought to be fun today. I'm very hopeful that things will pass without incident, though I fear that the earring will never be worn again. And, I think we're nearing the "two toddler" stage, despite very clear instructions to my little girl that she's done enough growing up already.

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¹ Duffy's father's name is Randall. Grandfather + Randy = Grandy

Is That a Pink Plus Sign?

I never thought I would see that little symbol. But there it was on a day late in October 2009, five weeks before our adoptive son was due to be born. Well, it ended up being two weeks before Coltrane's arrival that Leila made her presence known. So nothing has really gone according to plan, but when does it ever?

Approximately nine months later, I was numbed from the chest down, holding John's hand when we heard our daughter for the first time. I spent the rest of the day attempting to breastfeed. Because of the anesthesia, every time I tried to look down at her, I threw up, so I was feeding her with my head tilted back. I must have been a pale, clammy mess because the next day everyone just kept saying how much better I looked. So apparently, it was a rough day. I never noticed.

Happy Birthday, Leila. You are my wonderful drama queen of a Little Miss. Thanks for being my daughter.

Water Babies

Tonight we went to our first Parent and Me swimming lesson. It. Was. A. Blast.
At first CJ was a little tentative. He was clinging baby chimp tight to John's neck. Little Miss Leila? She started splashing and giggling the minute she was wet. Don't worry about CJ. He eventually warmed up to the experience and was just as excited as his sister by the end. He even put his face under the water with no prompting
It's a pretty simple half hour class that just allows the kids to get comfortable in the water so that they can someday have the independence they need to take an actual parentless swimming class. We sang songs that got them moving, most of which we do at the Mother Goose Time at the library, so the kids felt comfortable with them. They really liked using Humpty Dumpty. We sat them on the side of the pool and when Humpty takes his great fall, lifted them high in air then into the pool.
By the end of the half hour they were blue lips and a little shiver-y, but they were smiling.
It was a great family experience, and I know all four of us are looking forward to next week. I gotta get someone to come and take some pictures.

Another Step Out of Babyhood

This is the CJ we all know and love. The unruly curls are so adorable, aren't they? Such personality on that wee head. That is until you try and get a comb through those suckers. It was becoming a knockdown, drag out, no holds barred Ultimate Fighting cage match every morning. And I can't say I blame him. He wakes up with dreadlocks, and try as I might, I could not keep from yanking his poor little scalp despite a lot of detangler and patience. During each battle, I would think, it is time to get this mop cut, but then it would be so cute and fuzzy when it was all done. He was my baby.
But finally, I couldn't ignore it anymore. I had to let my practical mommy brain get louder than my STOP-GROWING-UP-SO-FAST mommy heart. So I called my hairdresser and made a double appointment. Momma's gotta look good too.
Leila had a nice visit with her Thi Thi while CJ and I went to the hairdresser. CJ didn't quite know what to make about leaving his sister behind. He kept looking over at her car seat. Mommy heart squeeze right there.
Barb, the hairdresser, is a fantastic lady and very good at her job. CJ and I both got a cape, and he sat on my lap. We jumped right in with what I was afraid would be the big scary clippers. CJ though had no problem with them at all. He got his very serious I-Am-Watching-Everything look and was glued to the mirror. He was amazingly good. Surprisingly it was the scissors that scared him a little, but all he did was turn around and hug me. Sigh. So finally, here is the end result.
And he is still so adorable, but it is now a little boy adorable. I can no longer pretend he is my baby boy. It is the way it is suppose to be, but some days it feels like each milestone goes by as quickly as each curl was cut and fell.
Still those, the hair is so freakin' cute.

The fun of being a parent

We haven't posted here in awhile, so I figured I'd talk about this morning - because, after all, a "random morning" is a pretty good way to figure out how parenthood is treating us, right?

• Alarm goes off at some ungodly hour


• Walk, feed dogs


• Lie back down


• Duffy: "I'll get up to run as soon as I get CJ back to sleep".


• *whoosh*


• Duffy: "Aaaaaaagh"


• Me: "What the hell happened?"


• Wife: "He puked on me!"


• Me (getting up for paper towels): "That sucks"


• Wife: "It's in my ear!"


• Son: pukes all over bed


• Me (picking up son): "let's change you"


• Son: pukes all over me


• Me (under breath): "Lovely"


• Daughter: starts laughing maniacally


• Duffy runs into the shower to clean the puke from her hair/ear

So, that was this morning in Casa de Batzer. The fun started at 4:20 when the alarm went off...by 5:30, Duffy admitted that she was too frustrated to work out (and, besides, she had already showered, so what was the point?), and since I knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep, I went downstairs to spin.

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Since we haven't posted here in awhile, some updates are in order.

• CJ is up and running around . . . has been since he was 10 months old, but he's getting more & more sure on his feet every day.


• Leila is doing a whole lot of rocking on her hands & knees, and if you turn your back on her, she mysteriously moves across the room. I'm not sure if she's crawling, but she can get where she wants to go, as long as you're not looking at her.


• CJ is saying an isolated word or two. For example, the other day I went to change his diaper pointed at myself, said "I'm daddy" and then pointed at him and said "and you're CJ." CJ then pointed at himself and said, clearly "Ceej". Duffy said that, yesterday, when she went to change his diaper, he said "diaper" from the changing table.


• Leila babbles incessantly, but doesn't say much outside of "dadadadadada" and "mamamamamama" (and she uses them interchangeably when looking Duffy or me, so I'm not sure there's a whole lot of actual meaning behind them) and "dididididididi" when she's really pissed off.

Is having an advanced child really a good thing?

Coltrane is walking. I mean walking. Across the room. To get to things like my soda and cell phone. That are sitting next to each other. Bad Mommy!
It really is amazing to watch a baby, sorry, toddler, learn and develop daily. Just last week he was tentatively taking a step or two before making use of his diaper cushioned butt. Now he's doing his best Frankenstein impression from one side of the living room to the other. Unless, of course, something gets in his way. He hasn't figured out how to get around things.
So a walking 10-month-old who also thinks it's hilarious when you say, no. And it is REALLY gut busting if you yell NO! I am learning that patience is truly a virtue.

Vacation Time, Vacation Time, Vuh, Vuh, Vacation Time

Well, all four of us survived our first family vacation. Heck, we even had fun.
John's band, Landslide, had a gig last Saturday, so we went to that before heading down to Virginia. The gig was a block party in the lead singer's neighborhood. The kids and I camped out on a blanket to take in the music. Things got off to a tricky start when Leila pooped through her clothes and the front pack all the way to my shirt, but the rest of the evening did not go as messily. CJ even did some dancing!
The kids were in PJs and asleep as we took off around 10 PM. It made for a long night, but the lure of no traffic and sleeping kids made driving all night worth it. John ended up playing the hero when we came along a car on its side. Don't worry, the driver was just fine.
When John and I slide into bed around 4 AM all we could look forward to was napping on the beach the next day. It was not meant to be though. It was rainy and windy on Sunday. We all made a valiant attempt to stay on the beach, but it was not meant to be. Fortunately, Monday and Tuesday boded better.

 CJ really took to the water.

Leila mostly slept in the shade. Though she enjoyed herself too.

Things took a small turn for the worst though on Wednesday when poor CJ came down with the cold that seem to make the rounds through several of our group's members. We made the most of it though by going to the visitors' center on the wildlife refuge and the pony center. Even sick, CJ enjoyed the touch pool and ponies.

The rest of the week was spent enjoying the sun and the surf. I will admit packing for a family of four was much more epic than just for one or two, especially with two babies, and maybe previous vacations were more relaxing, but we have been dreaming of family vacations for many years now. Our first one was more than all of those dreams combined.