I think the hardest part about having kids at home during a full term pregnancy is just the uncertainty of when the baby is coming. Thankfully we have a wonderful family and support system. The problem is that system is located two hours away.
I began having contractions in the early hours of December 11. I texted my Mom and had her make the two hour journey to our house that morning. I continued to have light contractions throughout the day, but they eventually dwindled down to nothing by the end of the night. My parents took the kids home for the weekend thinking that some relaxation might help get things going. Our biggest accomplishment was that we wrapped all of the Christmas presents and went to a movie for the first time in some five years (Hunger Games). At around 8:30 pm December 15 (my due date) I had a few contractions. Reluctantly, I called my Mom and asked her to come over that night so that I didn't have to call her in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, nothing ever came of those contractions either! On Tuesday, December 16 at my 3:30 pm appointment my midwife checked me and indicated that I was 3 cm dilated and 90% effaced. She stripped my membranes, and I began having contractions almost immediately. We had a quick ultrasound and non stress test to make sure baby was doing well.
We went to Smashburger for a spicy jalapeno burger around 6:30 pm hoping that might get things moving. While we were there I began having some stronger and more regular contractions that continued through the night. When we got home I did some laundry and Paul and I watched a movie. I insisted on matching every pair of socks. You know, otherwise the baby wouldn't come. I sat on the balance ball and took a bath. By 10:00 pm the contractions were so strong and were pretty consistently 5-6 minutes apart. By midnight I was starting to feel nervous that I was getting very far along in the labor and I suggested we go to the hospital. When we got to triage I told the nurse she might want to check me, because I thought I was probably a good 7-8 cm by the strength of the contractions. You can imagine my shock and horror when she informed me that I was only 4 cm!!! I was in so much pain, yet had only dilated 1 cm! I wanted to kick her in her smug face.
We were admitted immediately, which was nice. My nurse, Megan, did a 20 minute monitor on the baby while the midwife prepared the room for delivery and drew me a bath. I was in a shitty mood from being told I was only 4 cm. I felt a little embarrassed for going into the hospital and also a little weak for thinking things hurt so incredibly bad. I hopped in the bath at 2:00 am and was allowed one hour without monitors. The contractions I had for the 45 minutes I was in the tub were not nearly as bad as my stupid labor from 3-4 cm. I was feeling defeated and I told the midwife I'd like her to check me and if I wasn't dilated I would possibly have her break my water to get things moving. When she checked me she asked "well, how far along did you want to be? You are 9.0 cm!" She suggested we break the water and have a baby! I dilated from 4 to 9 in 45 minutes. I got out of that tub, like "fucking right." I wanted to mean mug that triage nurse.
I got out of the tub and situated myself on the hospital bed. For me, pushing is always the most dreadful part. Although I have to say that I didn't enjoy the labor much at all this time around. I wouldn't say it was my most painful, but this time I was really focused on the pain and was very fearful of pushing. Anyway, my midwife broke my water. Thankfully, the water was clear with no meconium. Shortly after that I had a contraction and she told me to practice pushing. I gave her three little baby pushes. I didn't need "practice" pushing. I mean, this wasn't my first rodeo. I knew that the minute I started to actually push that baby was going to actually come out. I decided that the next contraction would be "the one."
I prepared myself for what was to come, and as soon as the contraction started to began to push. I pushed for three 8 counts. I thought I would stop after the third, but then all of a sudden the urge to push took over my body. I screamed out "OH NO!!" and pushed with all of my being. The midwife said "The head is crowning. Slow down, Cas-, nurse get the-, Paul come-, the head is out, OH! there's the baby!" And just like that, the baby literally shot right out of me. She flipped the baby over so we could see that we had a baby BOY! She handed him to me and I put him right on my chest. It was 3:20 am.
He cried a little, but not much. He was very comfortable sitting right on my chest. She waited until the umbilical cord stopped pulsing and then Paul cut the cord. After that the really hard work started. They say you forget how painful it is to have a baby, but honestly, I never forget. I know it is painful. What I do always forget is how fucking horrible the after birth is. Because I push my kids out in a single contraction I always tear. This time I had a 2nd degree tear. The numbing shots hurt because the area is so tender and you can still feel a ton of pain during the actual stitching. This was by far the worst after birth of them yet, because I hemorrhaged immediately after giving birth. It was actually quite scary. I had to have a shot of Pitocin in my leg to get the contractions going, which didn't seem to work. The midwife had one hand basically scooping me out from the inside and the other hand shoving as hard as she possibly could on my stomach to get my uterus to contract. I cried out in pain the entire time. It was absolutely worse than the entire labor and pushing combined. It took at least 45 minutes to get the after birth resolved. I was shaking so bad and I felt like I was going to pass out.
When it was over everyone left the room and it was just me, Paul, and our new son. I breastfed him for about 30 minutes. After that the nurse returned and gave the baby his first bath and took his stats. He was 7 lbs 7 oz and 21 inches long. It was so nice to be able to hold him for so long before any of that took place. Chloe and Abram were taken from me right away to be cleaned up and weighed while I handled the after birth.
When the nurse left the room again we began to talk about names. The only boy name I had picked out was Jude Paul. Paul kept calling him Jude to see if we liked it, but I kept thinking he was saying "Jew" so we quickly decided against the name. For a brief moment in the delivery room we picked the name Lucas, but when Paul searched for the name's popularity he found it as #1 on the BabyCenter list for 2014. In fact, one nurse asked what we were thinking for a name and when we said Lucas a cafeteria worker happened to walk in and said "Girl, everybody be pickin that name lately!" Haha. We quickly decided against that name, too. We went to the recovery room without a name. The baby slept for 7 hours before he would wake up to eat again. We were all so tired!
The next morning Paul was perusing baby names on his phone when he suggested the name Emmett. I thought about it for a moment and said "I actually don't hate it." We tried it out for a few hours before the kids got there. My Mom brought Chloe and Abram up to the room and we asked them if they liked the name Emmett. Abram said right away, "Yes, this my brother Emmett." He said the name so clearly and so proudly that we decided that was definitely the name. It was so cute! He went to preschool later that day and told everyone about his baby brother, Emmett. We spent the next day discussing middle names and eventually decided to name him Emmett Paul.
For a few weeks I felt a little unsure of the name. We kept calling him "the baby." But as I finish this post 8 months later I can't see him as a Tyler or Jude or Lucas. He is an Emmett through and through. My perfect little sweet little baby boy, Emmett!
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Friday, November 7, 2014
Kid Update
Here is another partial post from around November 2013. Chloe would be nearing four and Abram nearing two.
Dear Chloe,
You are soon to be four years old. Just mulling over that sentence is enough to give me writer's block. I haven't posted about you in so long. Seriously, I can't find the words. As a good friend once said, "I imagine it is difficult to capture the essence of Chloe in words," and it is. Impossible, almost.
I don't know when or how it happened, but somehow you went from a toddler to a kid. You are constantly rolling your eyes. Sometimes just to be funny, and sometimes just to be a shit. A few months ago while we were lying in your bed just talking I said "well, duh." You asked me what "duh" meant, and I spent a few minutes trying to teach you. What I told you was to point to the green grass and ask, Is that blue? and when they respond with, No, it's green, you hit your head with the palm of your hand and say Ummm duh! Eventually, you gathered a deep enough understanding of the phrase to use in context. I created a monster.
You dress yourself in some variation of the same outfit every day: tights, poofy skirt, and shirt (if any of it matches, it's out of pure coincidence). You went through a phase about a year ago where you would only wear cat shirts. You are a little more flexible now - typically opting for Hello Kitty shirts, Ninja Turtle shirts, or anything that is two sizes too small or stained. You have a giant collection of hand-me-down poofy skirts, so finding one is never a problem.
You go to preschool twice a week. You love your teachers, Miss Ronda and Miss Susan, so much. Your best friend in the whole world is in your class, Ezra. He is basically one of the only kids you play with and you are so obsessed with him it's frightening. Your teachers are so amazed at how smart you are and especially at how strong you are. They say they have never had a kid in "3's" who can make it all the way across the monkey bars with no assitance. You are a beast!
Abram loves trucks, cars, tractors, and trains; he demands to wear shirts that display trucks, cars, tractors, or trains; and, he can say only the essential words: snacKK, coo-kee, juish, NO, and shoe. He is a shoe fanatic. I mean, seriously, it's pretty annoying. Kid has been throwing his shoes in my face since he was 14 months. Recently he acquired a pair of lace-up Spiderman shoes that are four sizes too big and untie/fall off constantly. We ended up hiding them after weeks of cursing.
**And, oh my gosh, that is all I wrote about my sweet boy. Poor guy! I recall a few things about this age of his, though. I don't recall exactly when we threw out the pacifier, but I feel like it was sometime around here. He kept chucking them all over the place and losing them. We finally decided that when he lost the last paci that would be the end of it. When he finally lost the last paci I recall he cried for it at night and during naps for at least a week. I was terrified, because Abram's best trait his whole babyhood was that he slept like an angel. He often put himself to bed for naps and he always slept through the night. Mostly, he just loved to go up and snuggle with Blanky and his paci. It's funny, in retrospect, how some of the smallest things are these terrifying parenting events in the moment. I think Abram still slept in the crib at this time, but not for very much longer. Eventually we moved the kids into the same bedroom and they were so thrilled. Abram loved having a big bed, but especially loved sleeping next to his big sister and best friend.
Dear Chloe,
You are soon to be four years old. Just mulling over that sentence is enough to give me writer's block. I haven't posted about you in so long. Seriously, I can't find the words. As a good friend once said, "I imagine it is difficult to capture the essence of Chloe in words," and it is. Impossible, almost.
I don't know when or how it happened, but somehow you went from a toddler to a kid. You are constantly rolling your eyes. Sometimes just to be funny, and sometimes just to be a shit. A few months ago while we were lying in your bed just talking I said "well, duh." You asked me what "duh" meant, and I spent a few minutes trying to teach you. What I told you was to point to the green grass and ask, Is that blue? and when they respond with, No, it's green, you hit your head with the palm of your hand and say Ummm duh! Eventually, you gathered a deep enough understanding of the phrase to use in context. I created a monster.
You dress yourself in some variation of the same outfit every day: tights, poofy skirt, and shirt (if any of it matches, it's out of pure coincidence). You went through a phase about a year ago where you would only wear cat shirts. You are a little more flexible now - typically opting for Hello Kitty shirts, Ninja Turtle shirts, or anything that is two sizes too small or stained. You have a giant collection of hand-me-down poofy skirts, so finding one is never a problem.
You go to preschool twice a week. You love your teachers, Miss Ronda and Miss Susan, so much. Your best friend in the whole world is in your class, Ezra. He is basically one of the only kids you play with and you are so obsessed with him it's frightening. Your teachers are so amazed at how smart you are and especially at how strong you are. They say they have never had a kid in "3's" who can make it all the way across the monkey bars with no assitance. You are a beast!
Abram loves trucks, cars, tractors, and trains; he demands to wear shirts that display trucks, cars, tractors, or trains; and, he can say only the essential words: snacKK, coo-kee, juish, NO, and shoe. He is a shoe fanatic. I mean, seriously, it's pretty annoying. Kid has been throwing his shoes in my face since he was 14 months. Recently he acquired a pair of lace-up Spiderman shoes that are four sizes too big and untie/fall off constantly. We ended up hiding them after weeks of cursing.
**And, oh my gosh, that is all I wrote about my sweet boy. Poor guy! I recall a few things about this age of his, though. I don't recall exactly when we threw out the pacifier, but I feel like it was sometime around here. He kept chucking them all over the place and losing them. We finally decided that when he lost the last paci that would be the end of it. When he finally lost the last paci I recall he cried for it at night and during naps for at least a week. I was terrified, because Abram's best trait his whole babyhood was that he slept like an angel. He often put himself to bed for naps and he always slept through the night. Mostly, he just loved to go up and snuggle with Blanky and his paci. It's funny, in retrospect, how some of the smallest things are these terrifying parenting events in the moment. I think Abram still slept in the crib at this time, but not for very much longer. Eventually we moved the kids into the same bedroom and they were so thrilled. Abram loved having a big bed, but especially loved sleeping next to his big sister and best friend.
Harry and the Hendersons
Here is part of a post I found in my "drafts" from about a year ago in October 2013:
I taught Chloe at an early age to watch television. I mean, I had her on a pretty strict training schedule. If you are wondering about the intensity of the daily regimen, I would compare it to something similar to training for the Olympics, or something like that. She got pretty good at watching television. She is a fast learner, and a dedicated athlete. We started with Sesame Street: baby stuff, literally. We moved on to Dora, then to her kind of sexy cousin, Diego. Things started to spiral out of control after I made the discovery that we had Nickelodeon. We never knew this, because we never bothered with the channels that were not delivered in HD, because it burns my eyes. We hit rock bottom I'd say somewhere in the middle of a SpongeBob Square Pants and Cow and Chicken marathon on Cartoon Network. I'm getting really off track here. Point is, Chloe is really good at watching TV whenever anyone needs a little break from her madness.
Abram, on the other hand, does not ever even glance in the direction of the glowy picture shows. He is immune to the beauty of it all. He is above it: the lowest of all forms of human entertainment. Why would he bother with the TV when he could be raiding the snack cabinet saying, "nack, nack, nack" or raiding the fridge saying, "cheeez, cheeez, cheeez" or raiding the pantry saying, "coo-kee, coo-kee, coo-kee." He hasn't yet figured out that eating while watching TV is the true American way. So, all of this, all of this babbling is just unnecessary, because what I really want to say is that we finally found a show that Abram likes to watch. It's a movie, actually, and if you were alive in the late 80's you might know of it: Harry and the Hendersons. This little dude will sit there with his giant, blue eyes glued to the screen for the entire movie.
That is where it ends. I totally forgot about that and it makes me sad that having two kids has basically derailed this whole blogging business. I'm going to do my best to jot down a few stories here and there to remember the little things. Like the movie that turned Abram into a TV watching genius. Add to that The Sandlot, The Goonies, Ghostbusters, and any other classic 80's/90's kid classic. Watching TV with Abram is so much better than watching it with Chloe. Kid's got taste.
I taught Chloe at an early age to watch television. I mean, I had her on a pretty strict training schedule. If you are wondering about the intensity of the daily regimen, I would compare it to something similar to training for the Olympics, or something like that. She got pretty good at watching television. She is a fast learner, and a dedicated athlete. We started with Sesame Street: baby stuff, literally. We moved on to Dora, then to her kind of sexy cousin, Diego. Things started to spiral out of control after I made the discovery that we had Nickelodeon. We never knew this, because we never bothered with the channels that were not delivered in HD, because it burns my eyes. We hit rock bottom I'd say somewhere in the middle of a SpongeBob Square Pants and Cow and Chicken marathon on Cartoon Network. I'm getting really off track here. Point is, Chloe is really good at watching TV whenever anyone needs a little break from her madness.
Abram, on the other hand, does not ever even glance in the direction of the glowy picture shows. He is immune to the beauty of it all. He is above it: the lowest of all forms of human entertainment. Why would he bother with the TV when he could be raiding the snack cabinet saying, "nack, nack, nack" or raiding the fridge saying, "cheeez, cheeez, cheeez" or raiding the pantry saying, "coo-kee, coo-kee, coo-kee." He hasn't yet figured out that eating while watching TV is the true American way. So, all of this, all of this babbling is just unnecessary, because what I really want to say is that we finally found a show that Abram likes to watch. It's a movie, actually, and if you were alive in the late 80's you might know of it: Harry and the Hendersons. This little dude will sit there with his giant, blue eyes glued to the screen for the entire movie.
That is where it ends. I totally forgot about that and it makes me sad that having two kids has basically derailed this whole blogging business. I'm going to do my best to jot down a few stories here and there to remember the little things. Like the movie that turned Abram into a TV watching genius. Add to that The Sandlot, The Goonies, Ghostbusters, and any other classic 80's/90's kid classic. Watching TV with Abram is so much better than watching it with Chloe. Kid's got taste.
The Severed Arm
Last week we visited Matt and Sara in their new house. Sara must have been in the middle of putting
away her Halloween decorations and the first thing Chloe noticed upon entry was
the bloody, severed rubber arm lying in the middle of the living room. Terrified, she ran and hid. Upon the realization that Chloe was scared of
the arm, Paul seized the opportunity to chase her around the house with it
while she literally screamed in horror.
Later that evening we sat in the basement listening to a Bob and Tom
song called TOAST! The adults lounged on the couch cracking up
at the song. Chloe sat and listened,
occasionally smiling and forcing a laugh.
The next day Chloe said to me, “Mom, remember when Matt played that song
about toast? Well, while he played it I
kept imagining that the arm was upstairs dancing.” She laughed a little. I held mine back. I told Paul about it later that night
basically ending the story in tears from laughing so hard. I told him I just envision her sitting there
in that basement looking at all of the stupid, stupid adults as they laugh and
laugh, because don’t they know there is a
freaking severed arm upstairs dancing in the office? I love moments like that to remind me
what it feels like to be a child. Like,
50% thinking your parents are the best people in the whole world and 50%
thinking your parents are just enormous assholes.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Rocking My Big Boy
You have always refused to be rocked or cuddled to sleep, Abram. I cannot read a full page of a board book before you do a full body twist/Jackie Chan roll and dash down the hallway. At 17 months you have never listened to a full book. At this same age your sister was reading Dickens. Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but seriously, ever since you figured out how to walk you are the craziest dude.
Well the other night we put you up in your crib with your paci and Blanky. You were happy to lie down with them like always, but after about 20 minutes I heard you screaming. I ran upstairs to find that you were having a Stage 5 meltdown. I grabbed you out of your crib and brought you to the glider chair. I wrapped you up tightly in Blanky like I used to do when you were a baby. I put your pacifier in your mouth and gave you an extra one to hold, because that's how you like it. I stuffed the little pacifier handle up and under your nose, because that's how you like it. You are a creature of habit, and I know you well.
I started singing to you, and instantly you stopped crying. I sang you a whole mess of songs. I sang and I sang and I sang until your breathing slowed from intense gasps to calm, steady draws. You smiled at me. I smiled at you. I asked, Are you ready to go night night? and I was floored when you responded with a giant grin and a No. I said, Do you want to rock with Mommy a little longer? You smiled and nodded your head Yes. I couldn't believe it. You understood what I said.
So I sat there talking to you all about your day at daycare and my day at work. I recalled our evening jumping on the trampoline, playing ninja, playing campfire. I reminded you of how we walked uptown to get real ice cream, and how you would have eaten an entire gallon had we let you. You have such a sweet tooth. I told you about the bath you desperately needed the minute we returned home. You smiled at me the whole time I spoke to you. When I was done I said, Now it's time to go night night. I brought you in your room, told you I loved you, and kissed my pointer and middle finger before touching them to your forehead - like I always do. I closed your door and you slept through the night.
I don't know what it was about that night, but I don't ever want to forget it. It was the first time we ever had a real conversation where I realized you might actually understand what I was saying. It was the first time you have ever let me rock you (even when you were a little baby). I just loved it, and I just love you.
Well the other night we put you up in your crib with your paci and Blanky. You were happy to lie down with them like always, but after about 20 minutes I heard you screaming. I ran upstairs to find that you were having a Stage 5 meltdown. I grabbed you out of your crib and brought you to the glider chair. I wrapped you up tightly in Blanky like I used to do when you were a baby. I put your pacifier in your mouth and gave you an extra one to hold, because that's how you like it. I stuffed the little pacifier handle up and under your nose, because that's how you like it. You are a creature of habit, and I know you well.
I started singing to you, and instantly you stopped crying. I sang you a whole mess of songs. I sang and I sang and I sang until your breathing slowed from intense gasps to calm, steady draws. You smiled at me. I smiled at you. I asked, Are you ready to go night night? and I was floored when you responded with a giant grin and a No. I said, Do you want to rock with Mommy a little longer? You smiled and nodded your head Yes. I couldn't believe it. You understood what I said.
So I sat there talking to you all about your day at daycare and my day at work. I recalled our evening jumping on the trampoline, playing ninja, playing campfire. I reminded you of how we walked uptown to get real ice cream, and how you would have eaten an entire gallon had we let you. You have such a sweet tooth. I told you about the bath you desperately needed the minute we returned home. You smiled at me the whole time I spoke to you. When I was done I said, Now it's time to go night night. I brought you in your room, told you I loved you, and kissed my pointer and middle finger before touching them to your forehead - like I always do. I closed your door and you slept through the night.
I don't know what it was about that night, but I don't ever want to forget it. It was the first time we ever had a real conversation where I realized you might actually understand what I was saying. It was the first time you have ever let me rock you (even when you were a little baby). I just loved it, and I just love you.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
SING, SING, SING!!!
I stopped breastfeeding Chloe before bed at 13 months. In place of our sweet, cuddle time I started rocking her before she fell asleep, and - to my great surprise - I began singing her songs. I was really embarrassed when I first started singing to Chloe, partly because I couldn't believe I was just now starting to sing her songs after a whole year for crying out loud, and partly because I'm just a terrible singer. Honestly, even my humming voice is cracky and bad.
But there we were... just me and Chloe, and one day I just started singing. I couldn't even think of what to sing, but once I started I found it difficult to stop. All of these childhood songs came rushing back to me. I'm going to write down some of the songs I sing in case my kids are reading this some day trying to remember the songs Mommy used to sing.
1. How Much is that Doggy in the Window (for which I also made up a second verse for the kitty in the window)
2. Do Your Ears Hang Low
3. Down by the Bay
4. You are My Sunshine
5. The Wheels on the Bus
6. This Old Man (which is "Grammy's Song")
7. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
8. Away in a Manger
9. ABC's
10. Apples and Bananas
11. Old MacDonald
12. BINGO
13. Humpty Dumpty
14. Bimbo, Bimbo
15. I'm Not Perfect
And about a million other songs I just make up whenever Chloe asks me to. Like, Puppy Dog, Puppy Dog, Walking Down the Street RUFF! I just sing and sing and sing, and seriously, I find it hard to stop, because when we are singing my kids are SO happy. I'll sing all the way through Costco just to keep them entertained. I'll sing at the checkout, stop to pay, and proceed singing. When we get back to the car I blast "Toddler Radio" on Pandora through the speakers, and we just SING! Wiggles, Mickey Mouse, Berkner... baby, I know ALL the lyrics!!!
I seriously think back to that day I made the decision to start singing to Chloe. I remember when I was done singing to her that first night I sat there quietly for a moment just kind of blushing. I laughed a little, shook my head, and thought... holy shit, I'm a MOM. You bet your ass I am.
But there we were... just me and Chloe, and one day I just started singing. I couldn't even think of what to sing, but once I started I found it difficult to stop. All of these childhood songs came rushing back to me. I'm going to write down some of the songs I sing in case my kids are reading this some day trying to remember the songs Mommy used to sing.
1. How Much is that Doggy in the Window (for which I also made up a second verse for the kitty in the window)
2. Do Your Ears Hang Low
3. Down by the Bay
4. You are My Sunshine
5. The Wheels on the Bus
6. This Old Man (which is "Grammy's Song")
7. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
8. Away in a Manger
9. ABC's
10. Apples and Bananas
11. Old MacDonald
12. BINGO
13. Humpty Dumpty
14. Bimbo, Bimbo
15. I'm Not Perfect
And about a million other songs I just make up whenever Chloe asks me to. Like, Puppy Dog, Puppy Dog, Walking Down the Street RUFF! I just sing and sing and sing, and seriously, I find it hard to stop, because when we are singing my kids are SO happy. I'll sing all the way through Costco just to keep them entertained. I'll sing at the checkout, stop to pay, and proceed singing. When we get back to the car I blast "Toddler Radio" on Pandora through the speakers, and we just SING! Wiggles, Mickey Mouse, Berkner... baby, I know ALL the lyrics!!!
I seriously think back to that day I made the decision to start singing to Chloe. I remember when I was done singing to her that first night I sat there quietly for a moment just kind of blushing. I laughed a little, shook my head, and thought... holy shit, I'm a MOM. You bet your ass I am.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Chloe Notes
For a little while I was taking time to jot down a few stories about these crazy kids. These are all a little old now, but I figured I ought to post them anyway.
January 27, 2013 - Chloe is obessed with cats. Cats are probably her most favorite thing in the world right now. Maybe even higher on the list than Papa. We were visiting our friends who have a cat named Zoe. Chloe spent maybe 70% of her weekend chasing the cat around the house. She had a conversation with me that went something like this, "Mom. Mom. MOM. Cats have TAILS! Cats have buttholes under their tails. Cats have poop on their buttholes. I have a butthole, but I don't have poop on my butthole. Cats have FUR! Cats are soft and you have to pet them like this. Cats have up ears. I have side ears. I LOVE CATS!!"
February 3, 2013 - Chloe is obessed with informing me that girls have a penis and boys have a vagina. Except it sounds more like "boys hab a penis and girs hab a bagina." Somehow every conversation can be brought back to those two anatomical parts. Griffin hab a penis. Abram hab a penis. Daddy hab a penis.
February 10, 2013 - This morning Chloe and I were sitting on the couch. She was playing with a toy laptop, and I was talking to my friend, Lydia. I overheard the following:
Laptop: What do you like to play?
Chloe: Outside.
Laptop: Who is your best friend?
Chloe: My Mom.
Heart. Melt.
February 11, 2013 - This morning I was getting ready in the downstairs bathroom. I always pull Abram's high chair over to where I'm getting ready. I toss him scraps every now and then to keep him occupied. A raisin here, a blueberry there. Graham cracker. Banana. As long as I'm feeding him he is content. Well, for whatever reason this morning he was being a grump and was throwing everything on the floor. Chloe came over, threw her hand on her hip and said, "NO, NO ABRAM! Do not throw your food on the floor. You naughty, naughty boy. Now Mommy is going to have to clean all this up!!!"
February 12, 2013 - It was a rough morning, this one. For some reason Chloe peed the bed TWICE last night. She never pees the bed. She never has. She has been an expert at potty training since she started. She has never worn a pull up, wakes up in the middle of the night if she needs to go, and can hold her pee forever in the mornings. I'm not sure why she peed twice last night, but the second time was directly on the mattress, which was super awesome. It really got the day started off right.
When Abram woke up he woke up screaming his balls off. He would not stop screaming. Crying, screaming, sobbing. Nothing I could do could stop him, so finally I just let him sit there crying. I asked Chloe if she could figure out what was wrong with him. He followed her into the kitchen and she poured a bag of raisins out on the floor. I nearly yelled at her, but I realized that he had stopped crying for the first time in 45 minutes. She emptied the rest of the cherries out on the floor. I told her that was enough. He was laughing. She said, "There, Mom. Now he is happy!" Damn. She's right.
I ran upstairs quickly to grab our clothes and shuttered when I heard what sounded like chip bags. Sure enough, when I came downstairs I found a pile of pita chips, tortilla chips, saltine crackers, and Cheerios added to the raisin/cherry mix. Nice.
January 27, 2013 - Chloe is obessed with cats. Cats are probably her most favorite thing in the world right now. Maybe even higher on the list than Papa. We were visiting our friends who have a cat named Zoe. Chloe spent maybe 70% of her weekend chasing the cat around the house. She had a conversation with me that went something like this, "Mom. Mom. MOM. Cats have TAILS! Cats have buttholes under their tails. Cats have poop on their buttholes. I have a butthole, but I don't have poop on my butthole. Cats have FUR! Cats are soft and you have to pet them like this. Cats have up ears. I have side ears. I LOVE CATS!!"
February 3, 2013 - Chloe is obessed with informing me that girls have a penis and boys have a vagina. Except it sounds more like "boys hab a penis and girs hab a bagina." Somehow every conversation can be brought back to those two anatomical parts. Griffin hab a penis. Abram hab a penis. Daddy hab a penis.
February 10, 2013 - This morning Chloe and I were sitting on the couch. She was playing with a toy laptop, and I was talking to my friend, Lydia. I overheard the following:
Laptop: What do you like to play?
Chloe: Outside.
Laptop: Who is your best friend?
Chloe: My Mom.
Heart. Melt.
February 11, 2013 - This morning I was getting ready in the downstairs bathroom. I always pull Abram's high chair over to where I'm getting ready. I toss him scraps every now and then to keep him occupied. A raisin here, a blueberry there. Graham cracker. Banana. As long as I'm feeding him he is content. Well, for whatever reason this morning he was being a grump and was throwing everything on the floor. Chloe came over, threw her hand on her hip and said, "NO, NO ABRAM! Do not throw your food on the floor. You naughty, naughty boy. Now Mommy is going to have to clean all this up!!!"
February 12, 2013 - It was a rough morning, this one. For some reason Chloe peed the bed TWICE last night. She never pees the bed. She never has. She has been an expert at potty training since she started. She has never worn a pull up, wakes up in the middle of the night if she needs to go, and can hold her pee forever in the mornings. I'm not sure why she peed twice last night, but the second time was directly on the mattress, which was super awesome. It really got the day started off right.
When Abram woke up he woke up screaming his balls off. He would not stop screaming. Crying, screaming, sobbing. Nothing I could do could stop him, so finally I just let him sit there crying. I asked Chloe if she could figure out what was wrong with him. He followed her into the kitchen and she poured a bag of raisins out on the floor. I nearly yelled at her, but I realized that he had stopped crying for the first time in 45 minutes. She emptied the rest of the cherries out on the floor. I told her that was enough. He was laughing. She said, "There, Mom. Now he is happy!" Damn. She's right.
I ran upstairs quickly to grab our clothes and shuttered when I heard what sounded like chip bags. Sure enough, when I came downstairs I found a pile of pita chips, tortilla chips, saltine crackers, and Cheerios added to the raisin/cherry mix. Nice.
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