Peas. Ha!

I was livid.

Yesterday Jett would not nap in his bed. He would not nap in my bed. He would not nap on the couch. He would not nap at all. That wouldn't be a problem except he was so exhausted. I could tell how tired he was by the amount of crazy that was coming out of him and making him jump on the couch, throw all the toys, pounce on Kai, and bounce off the walls.

My head was about to explode but I didn't yell, I didn't argue, I just started packing the diaper bag with diapers, sippy cup, snack. A snack of frozen peas. That seemed like a good idea to me, to pack him a snack of frozen peas. If he won't nap I will make him wish he had by feeding him a snack of frozen peas. That was my revenge. Ha! He hates peas. He can just cry while he eats them, is what I thought. Take that, exhausted non-napping tornado of doom. So there. Tough luck. Poor you. Ha!

Stop laughing. 

I got Jett, Kai, and I into our coats. We all went downstairs and I put the boys in the stroller. Jett calmed down a little at this new development - no fighting about the nap? going outside? - and climbed in to the stroller eagerly enough. After I reclined his headrest and he saw where this was headed he had to scream for two blocks, but he finally gave in and fell right asleep. Kai fell asleep too, without complaint, just to put his brother to shame.

I walked for an angry hour with lips pursed and feet stomping, silently cursing every crack in the sidewalk for laying there in my way. I worked up a satisfying sweat and when I finally calmed down I walked myself in to Starbucks to finish off a gift card and quench my thirst. 

I snagged a comfy chair by a window, rolled the stroller up next to it, and picked up Kai, who was just waking up. Oh Kai, sweet Kai. He was in a good mood, full of happy baby noises and shoulder snuggles and kisses for my cheek. I almost forgot that I was so angry at the other one.

Then The Other One woke up, and he was in a stellar mood - really. He climbed on to the big window seat. He counted the cars driving by. He waved at strangers.  I was thrilled with his budding social skills, thrilled that he was behaving well in Starbucks, thrilled that he was being gentle with Kai, thrilled that Kai was lighting up the place with his baby sweetness. Thrilled that I was apparently the best mom in the world because my kids were crabby and now they are happy and I must be magic.

Then Jett asked for a snack and Bam! my defenses snapped in to place. I reached in the diaper bag and pulled them out. They were still frozen - perfect. 

There, I said to Jett. There is your snack. Eat em and like em, suck-ah! 

Puh-leeze. 

He took one look at those peas, handed the tupperware to Kai, dug around in the bottom of the stroller and found the animal crackers from the day before. 

What?

Writing about it now, I feel my frustration again.

But at the time? Oh sweet heavens, I didn't care about the peas. My kids were in Starbucks and they were acting like angels and the three of us were counting the cars out the window and waving at strangers and sipping my iced tea and sitting together all in one overstuffed chair like it was our own living room, except even better, because people were there to witness our cuteness. I was feeling vain and loving and marvelous. Thank god the peas didn't mess it all up.

Ten Months

Happy Birthday, Kai! Yesterday you turned 10 months old.

Ten Months!

Well, my little heart-breaker, it's been a great month for you. It's the kind of month that let's us see what is coming up next. What I mean is, you suddenly look like you might switch over from the belly slide to a true crawl. You might start eating food that isn't pureed to practically a liquid. You might sleep through the night for a few days in a row. Big stuff!

Let's talk about food. You love food. In fact, you want more of it than I realized. When I took you in for your nine-month check-up, your doctor said we needed to feed you more, and you needed the good stuff - more whole milk yogurt, for example. You'd think after Jett I would know how to pack the calories on a baby (since we had to do that for Jett), but apparently we haven't been feeding you as much as you are willing to eat. When the doctor told me to feed you more solids, I started offering you more, and wow, you can eat three baby food jars at a sitting now. Who knew you were that hungry? The only problem is, now that you've discovered the world of full-fat yogurt, you don't want anything else. Well, there's always something to wring my hands about when it comes to what my babies will eat. I'm inclined to give you as much yogurt as you want, as long as you keep eating it.

Today you ate your first Cheerio. You didn't pick it up and eat it, I put it on a spoon for you. But still, a success! It is the first bit of solid food that you haven't immediately spit out. I have to say, I appreciate the care that you took when chewing your Cheerio. I think you chewed it for about 5 minutes before swallowing it - and that is after I soaked it in water and got it all nice and mushy for you first. I love a careful chewer. No choking for you, baby. Take your time. We have all day.

huh. what am i supposed to do with those?

now let's see...

success!

Baby Kai, you are on the go. You slide yourself along your belly from one end of our condo to the other. It's so cute to watch you do it. You cross one leg over the other, and use your bottom foot to push you forward. You pull with your arms too, reaching one out straight, and using the folded arm to help push. You explore every nook and cranny of our house. You especially love the little empty space between the toy shelves and the couch. You also love to put your face against the granite floor in front of the fireplace. You scoot under chairs and the under the crib, and you can almost always get yourself out. You know how to reach under the couch for a toy, and you keep trying to push the buttons on the t.v. You love playing catch by yourself, throwing the ball and then chasing after it. You are really good at entertaining yourself that way.



But oh Kai, your pink-eye is moving through the family. Now Jett has it, and I just hope he doesn't give it back to you. We put eye drops in your eyes three times a day, and you are such a trooper. You haven't cried about it once, even when we have to hold your eyelids apart to get the drops in. I'm so impressed with your zen-like approach to these eye drops.

I love the evenings as you go to sleep. I especially love those evenings when I can sneak you off into my bedroom and rock you to sleep in there, without any interruptions from you know who. When we have peace and quiet you just snuggle right in and we stare at each others' faces. We rock back and forth until you lay your head down on my shoulder and fall asleep. It's the sweetest thing. Then I walk you through the living room and pray that Jett's squeals and bedtime protests and throwing-of-things-not-meant-to-be-thrown don't startle you awake. We walk in to your room. You stir a little and look around, and then I lay you down and you fall asleep. I walk out of the room always with a little disbelief that it is that easy.

You should know that when you wake up in the night, which is nearly every night or so, Daddy is the one who gets up with you. Sometimes you need a bottle and sometimes you don't. But he tells me that you always fall asleep to an old episode of Seinfeld. That's Daddy for ya.

Well, Kai, you keep doing what you're doing and we'll keep being amazed at every little thing. Happy birthday, Kai. We love you.

One milestone after another

Well Kai, yesterday you learned how to clap. It's so cute. You sit on the floor clapping your hands and smiling. It makes me feel like everything I do, I do to rave reviews. I love it! Then you got up on your hands and knees and rocked back and forth a few times. You did it all day yesterday and all day today, and I think you are getting close to crawling. Very exciting! Then, to top it all off, you woke up this morning with pink eye. Yay!

Making Bruschetta

So Friday I take Jett to a free cooking class hosted by a local parenting group at a new, local cooking store for kids. I had to rsvp for this event, which I did well ahead of time. We arrived early so Jett could get a feel of the place. The store was already packed.

Then more families came in. And more, and more, and more. Pretty soon there was hardly any space to move, no place to sit, and No Snacks. At a cooking store, hosting a free cooking class for kids, no snacks. But oh yes, there were snacks. They were in my diaper bag for one minute, and then they were in every kids mouth, because apparently I was the only parent to bring snacks, and there is not a kid alive who does not want a snack from someone else's diaper bag.

Anyway, the cooking instructors could only teach six kids at a time. They didn't take the kids in the order they arrived, which would have made sense, since the kids who arrived earliest and were still waiting, like my kid, were getting the most squirrely. They didn't take the kids who were sitting at the empty table patiently eating their (Jett's) snacks. They took the kids who ran to the table first. Jett would never run to a table full of strangers first. This was a problem.

After three or four groups of kids had gone ahead of us, I finally figure out where to stand to ensure that I can get to the table, and when the group ahead of us finishes, I take Jett's hand and we step right up. Then he runs across the store. Then 7 more kids step up to the table. I can see Jett across the room, but I can't leave the table because I'm saving his space. The instructor will only take 6 kids at a time. I leave the table (although no one else did, and she still had one too many kids).

I walk over to Jett, take his hand, walk back to the table and lurk until some kid's older sister finally leaves. She leaves an empty space at the table and Jett and I scoot in to it. Jett is the 7th kid. The instructor looks at me. I say to Jett, and the instructor, that we are here at the table to watch what the kids are doing so we'll know what to do when it is our turn. The instructor doesn't buy it, and hands Jett a bowl. We're in!

The instructor then passes around a cup of chopped tomoatos for each kid to dump in to their bowl. Jett helps me in the kitchen at home, so I know he has trouble dumping food in to the bowl and not on the floor, so I reach out to help him, which he did not mind. The other instructor walks by and catches my eye and says that she's caught me! Caught me helping my child! Oh no!

At that point I look around the table and realize that there was only one other mother standing with her child. All of the other kids were coping, and cooking, just fine on their own. Maybe they were older, I don't know. When I looked at the other mother with a smile, hoping for solidarity, I got none. I felt labeled as a hovering mother.

Then our cooking teacher hands a teaspoon of olive oil to Jett, who won't take it. He still won't take it. I reach out to take it, because other kids are waiting for the spoon, and she won't hand it to me. Apparently she does not notice that every time she tries to make eye contact with Jett he buries his face in my chest so quickly and so forcefully that he knocks me into the little boy standing behind us. But she will not hand that teaspoon to me, and finally, reluctantly, Jett takes it. I remember not to help him dump the olive oil in the bowl, and he does just fine. (Ok, lesson learned). I don't appreciate, however, the smug look on our cooking teacher's face.

We go through a similar routine with every item - the garlic, the bread, the basil, the olive oil to brush on the bread. Except Jett won't take any item from the cooking teacher at all. I want him to, I really do, but I also want to give that smug look right back to that teacher because, excuse me, I know my kid, and if I'm telling you to hand the olive oil brush to me, hand it to me. He will take it from me, and brush his bread, without any injury to the poor kid behind me.

The only item Jett will take is a bowl of salt from the kid standing next to us. He even dips his fingers in, takes a pinch, and throws it in the bowl. The final touch, and it looks delicious. Whole grain bread (with no garlic rubbed on ours), just waiting for it's blanket of tomatoes. But he has no interest in the tomato mixture he's just created.

He does, however, wait until the cooking instruction is finished, and then walk over to the shelf where the brushes and bowls of olive oil are waiting, pick up a brush, and paint his bread with olive oil. At least he'll eat the bread, I think, and then give me a taste. But no. No bite for Jett, no bite for mama. We just got the heck out of there.

The ever-fragile brotherly love

Overheard on the monitor Monday morning: "Hi Kai. You wake? Have good sleep? Awwww. See, Jett be very so nice."

I hope, when I look back on this next week or next month or next year, I remember the inflections in Jett's voice. How softly he said "hi" to Kai, and how long he drew out the sounds. How he lifted his voice at the end of each question, how he seemed like he sincerely wanted to know the answer to each one. How long he drew out the "Awwww." How happy he sounded when he said, "See, Jett be very so nice!" How he runs the last three words together - verysonice.

I love that little voice.

Quirks and Endearments

Kai, it's time for a little chat.

I have to say, Jett had it coming. His brazen swatting of your cheek, his pulling on your arm, his nose-to-nose attention to the tiniest details of your face. You've been watching him non-stop from day one, and you've picked up a few things. Now, for example, if Jett is in reaching distance of you, which he often is, you squawk at him to get his attention. You sound just like him, it's amazing. You "squawk!" and slap his arm. "Squawwk!" and grab his sleeve. "Squawwwk!" and swipe his neck. So far I've got him convinced that you are trying to play a game with him, so for now he is delighted. I expect his delight to last about two hours after you wake up tomorrow morning. Then he's going to teach you something else, I'm sure.

You squawk at me too! As if I need any reminding to pay attention to you! Tonight I was holding you and you squawked in my face and then you hit me! Was that really necessary? I was holding you! Sure, sure, you did it all with a smile on your face. But like I was told many times growing up, it's not what you say, it's how you say it. So let's go back to the cooing, ok? That's such a sweet way to communicate. Also, I have to trim your fingernails. Ouch!

Would this face ever side swipe a mama?

Food. You like it smooth. I think you could eat baby food forever. Let me rephrase that. You could eat the stage 1s and stage 2s forever. Forget the stage 3s, with their tiny, soft, pasta chunks and their blending of ingredients. Pasta primavera? Forget it! I've started soaking Cheerios in water and putting them out on your highchair tray for you. You mash them up between your fingers and smear them on your thighs, but you haven't brought one to your mouth yet. When I cut one in to quarters or halves and put a piece in your mouth, you spit it right back out at me. I guess this is ok. I don't think there's anything wrong with sticking with purees for a while longer. I just wish you wouldn't look so hungry every time I bring a cookie to my lips. Playgroup is a killer for you, with all those toddlers and their snacks after snacks after snacks. You find a kid eating goldfish crackers and look at him with your big, blue, round, pleading eyes; I feel terrible not having a snack for you. But you and I both know you wouldn't even bring it up to your mouth, so could you please stop those pleading eyes until you are actually ready to eat one?

Oh yes, I know what you want. Don't think I didn't notice that I was the only mom at the bowling party who had to get out her breastfeeding cover - twice. We were only there two hours. It 's nice and all. The bonding, the comforting, the sleeping baby. Really, I like it. I like being able to sit down and snuggle with you. Your sweaty head on my arm, your sweet baby smell all around. I'm just saying that twice in two hours, at a bowling alley, during a birthday party, well, it's kind of two-month-old stuff, Kai. Not that I'm rushing you. I'm just, well, I'm just saying that next time we're at a bowling alley, try to drink your fill the first time, ok? Or start eating the Cheerios.

Ah, Kai. You understand everything I'm trying to say, right? You know I love you just the way you are, right?

Squawk!

Those Three Year Olds and Their Parties

Today we went to Jett's first real kid-birthday party. I say it's his first real one because he knew about it ahead of time and was excited to go. He picked out the present for his friend. All of the kids were old enough to sit on grown-up size chairs and eat their cake with forks. Also, it was at a bowling alley. A Rock and Bowl alley, to be exact. In fact, a Rock and Bowl alley with bumpers on the gutters. That's my kind of bowling.

We arrived at the bowling alley 15 minutes early, to give Jett time to "warm up" to the place before all of the kids arrived. But he was so excited to see his friend's mom (the mom of the birthday boy), that when she waved at him through the double glass doors, he turned around and looked outside and pretended that no one was talking to him. Then he stood in between the first set of the doors and the second set of doors for a full 10 minutes. He would have stayed out there longer if Charlie hadn't dragged him in kicking and screaming. But he settled right down after that. In fact, after another 10 minutes, he even let us take off his coat.

By the time we got organized enough to go get his bowling shoes from the desk, he was ready to go. He looked so cute in those size eights! I don't have a picture, because I knew between managing Jett at a birthday party with new kids, at a bowling alley, and taking care of Kai, we'd have our hands full - too full for a camera. I was right. But it was great.

The kids just bowled and bowled and bowled. They finished each other's frames, and were so proud when they figured out that they could carry their own 6 pound balls (although most parents stooped and tottered behind their kid, keeping one of their hands floating under the ball until the ball was on the ground). The bowling alley had this great ramp that the kids could set the ball on top of. Then all they had to do was give the ball a push, and it would roll down the ramp and on to the lane.

When the pizza arrived, all of the kids swarmed the round table closest to the lane. But of course, not Jett. Nope, we sat (by ourselves, off and on) at the back table. We ate, we observed, and we drank a lot of lemonade. It was fine though, I get it. Making small talk takes a lot of energy. Might as well save that energy for bowling. And for eating cake.

By the time Jett was done eating, he was really ready to go. He played with the kids. He gave hugs. He hopped around, ran in to things, cracked himself up, just like every other kid. Then when it was time to go, he refused to leave.

He sat down and wouldn't budge. Even when all of the other guests left. Even after I took Kai to the car. Charlie finally had to pick him up and carry him, kicking and screaming, out the double doors he had refused to enter two hours earlier. When we got the to car, he said he wanted to take a walk with Mom. He said he wanted to hold my hand. Now how would you respond to that?

You would hold his hand and take a walk around the parking lot, which is just what we did. I picked him up so he could see the river, or canal, or whatever body of water that was. We looked at the seagulls on the water. We talked about the rain that was hitting our heads. I guess he just needed time to decompress, because after that he climbed in to the car and sat in his seat just as he was supposed to. Of course he also talked his way in to getting a piece of candy, and he knew that was coming.

It was a great afternoon.

Deterioration

Jett likes to take your face in his hands and look in to your eyes. He likes to kiss you on the lips and then giggle. It's all very sweet.

Sometimes he puts his hands on your cheek and his hands are sticky and wet. This is because he spends all day licking his hands. We haven't yet found a way to break him of the habit.

We haven't found a way to break that habit because he used to spend all day eating his boogers. I stopped that by telling him he couldn't put his hands on his nose any more - only his mouth.

Somebody kick me. Then go wash my kid's hands, will ya?