The Chef

We know what Michael likes.  Michael likes watching TV.  Michael likes Elmo and Cookie Monster.  Michael likes Mickey Mouse.  Michael likes sports.  Michael also likes dancing and drama, which seem kind of odd with the sports obsession, but we go with it. 

But when it comes to Leon, we struggle with identifying what he likes.  Sad, huh?  As we think about finally decorating the boys' bedroom (it looks like a barracks, complete with naked, khaki colored walls and stripped down beds.  It's pretty sad.), we'd like to decorate it in a way they both like, but we have no idea what to do. The same is true in planning for their birthdays.  What does Leon like?

We do know that Leon likes climbing.  Monkey Boy climbs everything.  And he likes blankets.  As we go back and look at pictures from the summer, we have lots of photos of the nests Leon has made for himself all over the house.  I have given up on making our bed unless we have guests arriving.  Frequently when I come home from work there is nothing left on the bed but a bottom sheet.  Leon has removed the sheets, blankets, and pillows, and they are all piled in a corner along with his treasures.

On Sunday, while Michael was all zombied out watching soccer with Jeff, Jeff asked Leon what he liked.  Without a moment's hesitation, Leon said, "Cook."  And Leon does love to cook. 

Cooking for Leon involves putting small objects into a bowl and stirring with a spoon, but he does this all the time.  We have pictures of him doing this at home, doing this on vacation, doing this at various beaches.  It is his favorite thing to do.

He also takes an interest in real cooking.  He now demands, "Up!  Up!" when I am cooking, and he wants to check out each step of the process.  I am also convinced he thinks I am an idiot and that he needs to talk me through everything.  (He may be on to something here.)  Last week he told me how to give him a bath.  Yesterday, he told me how to make breakfast.

We were in his room reading when he decided he was ready to eat.  So he told me "food" and then pointed to his door.  So we went out of the room.  He led me to the kitchen, said "waffles" and took me to the freezer.  I got out the Eggos.  He then took me to the toaster oven and told me "ding."  (Guess what sound our toaster oven makes when the toasting cycle is done?)  So I put them in, and then held him when he asked so he could watch them cook.  He didn't tell me to get out a plate, but he did remind me that they needed to be "cut!"  That's when Micheal jumped in with the warning that they are "Hot!"  They are quite the team.

Whack-A-Mole Kids

Sometimes I feel like in having the boys, I gave birth to a couple of whack-a-moles.  As soon as we take care of a problem with one, the other one pops up with the same problem.

I'm sure everyone is sick of hearing how Michael gets up at 0-dawn-hundred (or earlier) every morning.  What I probably haven't shared, is that at least 2/3 of the time, Leon gets up then too.  Michael is not a quiet guy in the morning.

When we take walks in the morning, Leon is always half slumped in the wagon looking very much like he could use that first pot of coffee of the morning.  His eyes are baggy, his hair is crazy.  He sits up slightly and smiles when we say hi to a cat on the next street, but he stays pretty quiet.  Little did I know, he really loves this time.

Suddenly, mercifully, Michael started sleeping a little later this week.  I think he is worn out from my parents' visit.  Or maybe he has just had enough fun during the day lately that he doesn't feel the need to start it in the wee hours of the morning.  Whatever the cause, he slept until 6:40 Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.  For him, this is huge.

However, by the third day, Leon realized they had been missing out on the morning "fun."  His sibling alarm clock wasn't waking him up, so at 5:00 Thursday morning he woke up crying.  I got him up, and he pointed to his bedroom door, indicating he wanted to go out.  He likes to drink cold water from the fridge, and I figured that's what he wanted.  I carried him to the kitchen, and when we got there he pointed to the garage door and said, "Go!  Go!"  I told him, no, we wouldn't be going anywhere yet.  The sun was still sleeping.  Defeated, he sat with me for a few minutes on the couch before asking to be tucked back in to bed.

This morning he got up at 4:00 and we went through the same routine.  It was actually a little cool in the house (by "cool" I mean not blazing hot), so when I took him back to bed, I tucked him in with one of his blankets.  At 5:15 he got up, gave me a big hug and told me he was "Done!" sleeping.  (Unlike his brother, at least Leon tries to kiss up by hugging and cuddling.)  This time I took his quilt, which is heavier than the afghan he drags around, and we cuddled under it on the couch.  I tucked him around him when I put him back in his bed.  He was finally warm and cozy and slept right through Michael's moans at 6:15.

Water Boy

We usually only give the boys cold food or food that is no more than lukewarm.  Since they still mainly eat with their fingers, this prevents burns on both their hands and mouth.  Occasionally, though, they will be desperate for food, and Michael will be moaning, and we will give them the food before it cools completely.  This happened a little over a week ago, and Michael learned a new word.  "HOT!"  The boy has a healthy fear of hot.  This is good, since he learned it without actually getting burned, and because he doesn't seem to fear anything else.

In particular, the boy has no fear of water.  At the beach, he runs straight for the water.  Once he is in the water, he keeps pointing east, wanting to go deeper and deeper in the water.  He doesn't care when waves knock him down. (He doesn't always get up right away either.  We can't help but wonder if he has a death wish.)  He just wants more!

My parents now have an apartment in Wilmington, and on Sunday night we took the kids swimming at the pool in their apartment complex.  When Michael spotted the water in front of him, it was more of the same.  He couldn't get enough of the water.  He wanted to kick his feet and doggie paddle.  He let my mom hold him so he could swim on his belly.  He let her hold him so he could float on his back.  He loved every second of it.  This child is definitely our swimmer.

Wake Up Call

This morning instead of waking up to the usual moans of Michael, I woke up to the sound of Michael in his crib calling "mom?  Mom?  MOM?  Moooooommm?"  I hustled out of bed to get him before it turned into moans.  It was a nice way to wake up, especially since we "slept in" until 6:23.

Sports Junkie

Last Sunday, Liverpool played their first soccer match of the season at 11:00 a.m.our time.  At 1:00 p.m., the Reds played the Marlins.  Sunday was also the final day of the PGA championship, and the day ended with a Bengals game at 7:00 p.m.  And we were able to get every one of these sporting events on television.

Needless to say, Jeff was pretty happy.  But Michael, oh Michael was in heaven.  He got to watch "foot-bah", "bay-bah", "goff", and more "foot-bah."  (He knows the difference between soccer and American football, but he refers to both as football.  He's so Euro.)  Sunday might have been his Best Day Ever.

Yesterday, Michael was not feeling well, and when he doesn't feel well, he doesn't sleep.  (I won't even go into the vicious cycle this creates...)  So around 10:00 last night, when he was up again, I decided it was time to settle down in front of the TV with him for some cuddles.  I knew it would calm him down and kinda keep me awake.  We have very, very basic cable and we get an odd assortment of channels.  I settled on Discovery Health which was showing the ever-so-enlightening I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant.  Michael started dozing during the first segment.  Perfect.  Then there was a commercial break. He perked up and pointed out things on the commercials.  Mom!  Baby!  Cat!  Dog!  Then he kept pointing at the TV and saying "football."  There were no footballs on the TV.  There were not even things remotely resembling footballs or other sporting equipment on TV.  When the show came back on, he got much more intense.  "Football!  Football!  Football!"  Jeff had joined us in the living room by this point, and for a minute, we thought the poor kid's fever had finally gotten too high.  He was hallucinating.  Then it occurred to us that Michael was putting in his request.  The child wanted to watch more football.  He was not happy when we told him that there was no football on TV on a Tuesday night in August.

Baby!

So I suppose it's time to put it out there that I'm pregnant again.  Yes, Baby Number 4 is on the way!  So far we have already noticed quite a few differences between a first pregnancy and a pregnancy with the fourth kid.

The first time around we were so excited.  We read about the baby.  We talked about the baby.  We made plans about the baby.  I'm pretty sure there have been entire days this time when we have entirely forgotten that we are adding to the brood.  Even now there are days when my only reminder is going to my closet in the morning and realizing I have nothing to wear.  (I really do need to dig out more of my maternity clothes and get back all the ones I loaned to other people.) We figure I'll be about 39 weeks pregnant when it occurs to us that we should probably buy some diapers and attempt to locate the bassinette.

The first time around I couldn't wait to tell people.  I was bubbling over and was so obviously excited that at least my good friends just asked.  It was so apparent.  This time we've waited to tell people.  No need to jinx things.  And aside from telling family, close friends, and my boss, we've mostly just waited for people to ask.  And, okay, it is kinda amusing to have people come up to me in the hall or bathroom at work and say, "Well, um, I was just wondering, you see, um, you look different..."  I'm usually kind and cut them off and tell them, yup, preggers again!  Usually.  Of course then they always want to know how far along I am, and unlike the first time where I could practically tell people down to the hour, this time it always takes some serious math work.  (For anyone who is interested, I'm currently 15 weeks and due the first week of February.)

The biggest difference is the reactions we get when telling people. The first time it was all:

Congratulations!
I'm SO happy for you!
EEEEEEEEEEEE!

And we did still get that from many of our good friends, along with comments that it's about time or they were wondering when this would happen.  I also get called Michelle Duggar a lot and jokingly asked when we're going to get a reality show.  Then there are also a lot of blank stares and "wow"s.  But mostly people have been supportive even if they think we're nuts.  But we've never denied that.

But in the end, whether this baby number one or baby number four (or any other number), it is still exciting.  Babies are the best.

Mornings

Mornings used to be my time to myself, and for a long time I fought sharing that time with Michael.  I wanted to yell at him, "MINE!" and tell him to go away.  I suppose I could have, but it just would've made him cry, and listening to a crying baby isn't really the kind of "me time" I like in the morning (or at any time of day).  Then finally it dawned on me that someday I will miss this.  Really.  So I decided to embrace the early morning madness.  And sleep deprivation aside, it's made a huge difference.  I look forward to our very early morning excursions, at least as much as one can look forward to taking a walk so early it's sometimes still dark when we get back.  Michael definitely loves them too, and we do get to see a lot of things in the dark that we didn't see before.  One day last week we saw the first passenger flight of the morning leaving the airport. (Our airport only uses four gates.  I feel safe in making this claim.)  The jet passed low overhead with all of its lights on.  We had to stop for a minute and watch that bad boy.  I think Michael's jaw actually dropped open in amazement.  Another morning the moon was out and Michael pointed and exclaimed, "Moooon!" each time it came back into view.  Then he spent the rest of the morning going through his books at home looking through his books for pictures of the moon.  Maybe sharing my mornings isn't all bad.

My New Crush

I have a confession to make.  I love Rachel Ray.  Yes, I know she can be a bit annoying. Okay, she can be really annoying, but her recipes!  Maybe that's it.  I am just in love with her recipes.  (And if we're being totally honest here, some of the things she says do make me smile.  Shhh!  Don't tell.)

Her recipes aren't exactly healthy.  They tend to be heavy on meat, salt, and fat.  However, they are also often loaded with veggies, nearly always use fresh herbs and typically use healthy fats like olive oil and nuts.  Plus she uses all real food.  There aren't a lot of recipes that incorporate Cheez Whiz or Cool Whip (not that I don't have many fond memories of Cool Whip and Jello. They are fabulous.  Cheez Whiz will always scare me).

Most importantly, if I make one of her recipes, my family will eat it.  Last week we went four nights in a row with everyone liking the dinner I made, and most of the meals were Rachel Ray recipes.  I really don't have picky eaters, but getting that much support, meal after meal, is amazing.  That alone could make me swoon.

Be Our Guest

I have always had trouble just enjoying the moment, especially when things are looming.  Growing up, I hated Sundays.  Normal, sane people would enjoy Sunday because it was the last day of the weekend, but for me it was always awful because it was the last day of the weekend which meant Monday was just around the corner.  Although I've definitely improved through the years, and have become much more of a slacker, these feelings aren't gone.

So it was really strange to me last week when I was reading a magazine and saw an article on "What Our Readers Love About August" and everyone one of them commented on how it was so relaxing and it was a time for sleeping in and playing outside and eating too much grilled food.  That doesn't feel like my August at all. 

I think August will actually, eventually prove to be fun and relaxing, but this weekend it was overwhelming.  Last Thursday it dawned on me that over the next four weeks, we will have visitors in town 19 days.  The time with visitors will be the relaxing part.  The getting ready for them will not be.  Thankfully I had this realization on Thursday, so I had the whole weekend to work on getting ready. 

Friday I worked in the morning, went to a dentist appointment, and stopped at the grocery store on the way home so we had food for this weekend and the week ahead.  I think the rest of the day was fairly relaxing.  It was somewhat of a blur.  I know I cooked dinner and cleaned the kids' bathroom.  The kids spent a good part of the day climbing on me because that is what they do on Fridays when I am finally home.  Jeff and I have "date night" everyone week which mostly involves sitting on the couch and watching TV shows on DVD, and we managed to squeeze in a little TV time before passing out.

Saturday morning I took the boys for a walk, fed everyone breakfast, changed the sheets on everyone's beds, cleaned the boys' room, and Ree and I still made it out the door by a little after 10:00 a.m. for her swim lesson.  We swam (and even lingered in the pool for a little while after her lesson), went out to lunch, and then had a crazy busy afternoon of errand running.  Among other things, she has a birthday this month, so we needed to get everything for her birthday party so we were busy visiting craft stores and the dollar store getting all sorts of party supplies and cake decorations.  We also made a couple of stops to get things for our guests.  When we got home, I could tell the boys needed to get out of the house (at 7:00 a.m. Leon had actually asked for "clothes" and then "shooooes."  He wanted an adventure!), so I took them to Target.  Needless to say, Saturday dinner was not fancy.  Once the kids were in bed, I did a little more cleaning.

Sunday morning I tried to get the boys out of the house without waking up Ree, but I failed at that, so we didn't end up leaving until a little after 7:00.  By that time all three kids and both dogs had finished breakfast, and the boys had each had two diaper changes.  The boys and I went to Walmart for the last shopping excursion of the weekend, and I am happy to say that after 8 stops, we have everything we need for our family for this week and for Ree's party. We even have quite a bit of stuff for guests in general.  And we hope they enjoy it, because when they arrive, we may be sleeping!

Questionable Parenting

There are those instances I look back on my behavior and think, "Ooh.  That was some bad parenting," and I shudder a bit at what my children will be telling their therapists in the years to come.  Then there are those rare moments when I think, "Hey, that was some GOOD parenting!" and I wonder a little bit how that managed to sneak out.  Then there are all those times that fall somewhere in between in the murky gray area.  That's definitely where this one falls.

One night last week Ree was in the tub, and I was sitting in the bathroom with her (good parenting!).  Rather than interacting with her, I was reading a book (probably bad parenting).  It was pretty entertaining, and I started laughing out loud. Ree wanted to know what was funny, so I decided to read it to her.  (Reading aloud from a chapter book = good parenting!).  Except it was a Janet Evanovich book (bad parenting).  But this particular page did not contain any sex or violence (good parenting).  But it did involve a monkey running loose in a nursing home and some possibly mockery of the elderly (bad parenting).  But we enjoyed our time together...that counts for something, right?

I'm going to call this one a wash, but if I ever find out she has some weird prejudice about individuals living in nursing homes, or about monkeys, I will know it's all my fault.  And I think I can live with that.

Noisy Boys

When it comes to talking, the boys have completely different styles.  Leon never stops babbling.  (I don't know where he gets it...)  Most of what he says is gibberish, but there will be random phrases thrown in just for fun.  While on vacation we were in the car, and the kids were watching a DVD.  We went all out for the trip, and we got a portable DVD player with dual screens that attach to the headrests so that they would all have a great view of whatever mind-numbing programming we put in the player.  This could be one of the smartest things we've ever done.  The player plugs in to the cigarette lighter in the backseat.  I was turned around talking to Ree when we hit a bump, the player came unplugged, and the screens went black.  Disaster!

Leon immediately started chattering, telling me there was a problem.  I heard something along the lines of, "Gebdarbadeedoobehdeekikki you broke it! debbadeedumdagebadeedun."  The phrase in the middle was crystal clear.  Even Ree laughed.

There was a similar outburst from him a couple of weeks ago.  My mom was in town and she was dishing out food for dinner.  In the middle of all the chatter Leon managed to say, "More veg-eh-tah-bulls, please."  How could you not comply with that?

Meanwhile Michael didn't say anything for a long time, and I knew it was a lack of confidence, rather than a lack of vocabulary.  When he was desperate, words came out clearly.  One night at snack time he asked for "wah-ter-meh-lon" and every syllable was carefully enunciated so that I couldn't possibly misinterpret his demand for more delicious fruit.  Another heartbreaking night in which he was in teething agony he asked for "meh-dih-cine."  Also while on vacation, I caught him practicing his words in bed after he had been tucked in for the night.  He was going through the list of everyone he had played with that day and he clearly named Mama, Baba, and An-doo. 

Then, suddenly, about 10 days ago, he started talking.  He became a fountain of words.  Last week he probably used 30 new words, and this week there are more.  We thought this would help with his constant frustration and moaning, but it is currently making it worse.  Now that he knows that we know what he wants, he wants it NOW!  But we will work through this.

Of all the things they say, my favorite phrases out of each boy are there names for each other.  Although they have each said the others' name, they prefer to use other phrases.  The other morning the boys were getting in their high chairs for breakfast.  Leon sat down first, and he wanted to make sure I didn't forget Michael. So he pointed to Michael's chair and said, "Other boy."  Yes, I would get the other boy.  Last night in the tub I asked the boys who wanted to get out first.  Michael pointed at his brother and said, "That one."  I confirmed he wanted Leon to get out first, and Michael nodded his head so vigorously up and down I thought he was going to get whiplash.  "That one" it was.

CSA Update

So back when we began our crazy CSA endeavor this year, I had these visions of my family spending the summer eating wonderful healthy meals made out of our fresh organic produce.  These would be the kind of amazing meals that you see featured by those bloggers who photograph every step of the cooking process in lovely, mouth-watering, high-resolution detail.

I don't know what I was smoking.

If this particular endeavor had occurred before kids, I would've labeled it a failure.  A complete and total disaster.  However, kids have taught me not to be so hard on myself since I'm pretty sure I haven't accomplished a single thing I set out to do in the last four years.  So instead of this being a failure, we will call it a learning experience.  Here are some of the things I learned.

I hate greens.  Really, I do.  Collards taste all right cooked up in bacon grease with little chunks of bacon mixed in, but I really don't want to mess with them every day.  Or even every year.  We got a ton of them at the beginning of the season, and they were a big ol' pain in the heiny.  The preparation process would start with me hosing the mud off them outside, then I would have to rinse them inside.  And dry them in towels.  And repeat about 18 times because I could never get all the sand out of the greens.  (Our soil is sand and not dirt.)  Then I would have to cut each stupid leaf to remove the stem.  Finally, about five hours later after all of the interruptions from the kids, dogs, and life in general, I would be ready to cook them.  The cooking part wasn't so bad, and the smell of bacon is always heavenly.  But they just didn't seem worth the effort.

There is such a thing as too much zucchini and watermelon.  Seriously.

The problem with organic produce is the bugs get it.  And it needs water.  There were a lot of weeks with a lot of bugs and no water that resulted in us getting really small boxes of produce.  Given the amount of work associated with greens (and with salad mix, which wasn't a whole lot better) I wasn't all that sad.  I hate to throw food away, and it happened a couple of weeks when I just couldn't make time to use it all (and one week when I started turning green myself just looking at the turnip greens).  But it did give me a much better appreciation of the challenges of being a family farmer and how difficult it must be to stake so much of your livelihood on the forces of nature.

We also learned that Leon likes turnips.  A lot.  He will eat them raw or cooked, alone or combined with other foods, solid or mashed.  And without this experience we never would've tried turnips.  If we just came out a little braver, it was worth it.  Maybe.

Monkey Men

The kids love to go grocery shopping with me, and generally they are pretty good.  Michael does believe that our Harris Teeter is a buffet, and he tends to moan (loudly, I might add) anytime he is not chewing while we are in the store.  Thankfully, they accommodate him well and there are generally samples of fruit in the produce section and meat, cheese, and a dessert near the deli and bakery.  There are also always sugar cookies, and I've learned to also take snacks in my purse for him.  As long as his mouth is full, he is quiet.

Interestingly, this only applies to Harris Teeter.  If we go grocery shopping at Walmart, he is content to sit in the cart.  He may want to hold something, and possibly chew on the box (between the boys I inevitably always have to pay for a box or two that looks like it has been attacked by a rat), but he won't throw a temper tantrum like he does at Harris Teeter if he is denied food. 

A couple of weeks ago we went shopping at Walmart after breakfast, and by the time we got home, the boys were hungry since they did not snack while we were there.  One of Leon's favorite activities is to empty all the grocery bags, and he loves to practice his feats of strength by seeing if he can get the heaviest items out of the bag.  He mastered the extra large jars of spaghetti sauce months ago, and he's been known to get a gallon of milk off the floor, even if he can't actually walk and lift it at the same time.  On this particular morning I had purchased a seven pound value pack of chicken, and this had him stumped.  While he stared it down, I ran around the house taking care of a few other things with the intent of going back to the kitchen and giving the boys a snack while I finished putting the groceries away.

Suddenly I noticed it was quiet.  Anyone who has ever been around kids knows that quiet is never a good sign.  It either means the kids are either unconscious or else they are Doing Something They Shouldn't Do.  I quickly made it back to the kitchen where I found the boys sitting side by side with a bunch of bananas between them.  Michael had bitten the end off a banana and was holding it in his hand while Leon scooped out the inside of the banana for them to share.  Interestingly, Leon really was sharing, and they were both snacking away.  Apparently they got tired of waiting for me to return to get them a snack and decided to take matters into their own hands.