After the Fall

The other day Jett fell down the stairs. We live on the third floor of a condo building, and he fell down one flight of carpeted stairs just outside our front door. It's amazing that this hasn't happened before, since he's been up and down our three flights of stairs nearly every day of his life. 

It's terrifying to watch your child fall down the stairs. Jett went flying face first, flipped head over heals, and landed on his back. It was the flip that was the scariest, watching his little head bounce sideways on the stairs like a rag doll. I was standing closest to Jett so I made it down to the bottom just a second after he did, with Charlie right behind me. Honestly, I don't even remember where Kai was, in his highchair, I think. Jett started sitting up and I picked him up and pulled him to me. 

By the sound of his cry, I could tell he wasn't terribly hurt, but we were all scared, and the tears were leaking out of his eyes. I sat and held him on the stairs and kept looking at his eyes, which were closed. His eyelashes looked like copper, so long and shiny with his tears. I think if I could have run my finger across them, they would have chimed like little copper bells.

I just sat there, holding him and smoothing down his hair, trying to help him stop crying. Then I had to ask him to stop crying, because his cries were sounding a little manufactured, and we were in the stairwell where our neighbors could hear us (although I suspect they can always hear us). Then I tried to shift his weight from one of my legs to the other, which irritated him. Then I suggested that we go upstairs and sit on the couch, and that really made him angry. He tried to lay back in my arms by repeatedly cranking my neck back, which irritated me. Finally I walked upstairs and went inside without him, which made both of us angry. Some comfort that was.

Charlie got to be the hero then, and coax him inside. Eventually he came and sat next to me on the couch, after I agreed to get him a sippy cup of milk and turn on Curious George (on the TV). There we sat. Me, frustrated on the couch, and the little Angry Uninjured One, now happy, with his long copper eyelashes and his sippy cup of milk.

Eleven Months

Happy Birthday, Kai! Now you are eleven months old. Eleven months! My baby, a Cheerio-chewing, four-teeth-showing, diaper-changing-resisting, eleven month old. I can hardly believe it.

How have you been spending your days lately? Well, you've been doing a lot of throwing. Ball throwing, that is. You throw the ball and chase after it. Or sometimes you throw the ball and cry until I chase after it - you're learning quick, I tell ya. (Although, Baby, you don't have to cry to get me to play with you. Don't you know I'm always on the way to play with you)? You just love throwing, or rolling, a ball. You could be completely occupied with a toy or a person or anything, but if you catch sight of a ball out of the corner of our eye, it's over. You are after it. You especially love the O-ball. It's so light and easy to hold on to. Sometimes we sit on the floor and play catch now. Those are some of our most peaceful moments, because it's a game we can all play. What I mean is, I can pay attention to you and Jett at the same time, and everyone is happy. Here are all the boys in an early morning game of catch.



Here is a picture of everything you threw on to the fireplace at Grandma and Grandpa's house. You were very serious about getting all of the Easter eggs up there. I loved watching you concentrate.



How else do we spend our day? Well, we spend a large portion of the day simply interacting with Jett. You entertain Jett, and then I rescue you from Jett, and then Jett feeds you Cheerios (under my watchful eye), and then I put you in the exersaucer so Jett can set up his train tracks on the floor without you trying to eat the trains. This morning Jett really exhibited some creative thinking about you, Kai. He pushed all of the boxes we have (toy boxes, foot stools, a big diaper box) around you and your play mat and created a sort of enclosed play space. He fenced you in. When we was finished he said, "There! Now Kai won't bother me!" Daddy and I were totally entertained by this, and we praised Jett for his problem solving and relatively peaceful approach. But I wonder if we should have, because you know, you are no bother, baby Kai. We love you, and I don't for one second mind picking up Jett's trains so you can't eat them. As I always tell Jett, you are a baby! And we love you! And if he doesn't want you to grab his hair, or eat his trains, he needs to move out of the way! Still, here is a picture of you in the enclosure that Jett built.



When we aren't negotiating floor space, we're cramming ourselves in to five square inches on the couch. You are the fun, see, and we all want to be close to the fun.

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What's that? Oh, right. I know, I know. Yes, that also happens on and off throughout the day. But I have to change your diaper - we can't just leave the same diaper on you all day! I know what your screaming and crying and tears mean, believe me, I know! Yes, I know you feel you must roll over with every diaper change just to prove to me how much you hate them and I know I need to get better at securing your diaper when you are laying on your belly, but it's hard when you do all that wiggling and when you are making me want to cry with all of your crying. So much crying on the changing table! I think I dread those diaper changes more than you do. I don't know what to do about that, Kai. Maybe hang Cheerios from the ceiling?

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Ahem. Let's move on to the things you love. What do you love? The alphabet song. Being held. Yogurt. Jett, during dinner. Naps. Clapping. Plastic cups. Jett's sippy cups. Pulling off your bib - and that's a new one!

You know what I love? I love putting you to bed. I'm better at putting my baby to bed this time around, and you are amazing at the bedtime transition. Sometimes I sing to you, I always nurse you. I smooth down your soft hair and hold your hand, and you settle down into one of the best parts of the day. I stand by your crib and sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". You lay your head on my shoulder and that's when I know you are ready to go to sleep. So I lay you in your crib and you roll on to your side and fall asleep. It's always that simple and I'm always amazed. Every night I walk out of your room feeling like the world is perfect.



And so it is. Happy Birthday, Baby Kai. We love you.

Expanding his Vocabulary

Yes, it finally happened, as we all knew it would. Charlie let the f-bomb fly in front of Jett. Now, I would say that he has dropped the f-bomb numerous times in front of Jett, and this is just the first time it mattered, but Charlie would deny that.

I would also say that he dropped the f-bomb because of Jett, but both he and Jett would deny that too.

Anyway, Jett had been flinging the f-bomb around, here and there, willy-nilly, for a couple of weeks before we went to my parents' for Easter. Shortly after arriving, we prepped my parents that it happened, that he's been saying it, and that we've been ignoring it, so please ignore it too.

Everything we going pretty smoothly. There were some suspicious moments, because there are a lot of words that sound similar when they are coming out of the mouth of an almost-three-year-old. Words like fork, fort, and f*** for example. You'd think you might be able to figure out what he is saying based on the context, but sometimes there is no context - he just starts talking about whatever is on his mind, and you're racing to catch up. So like I said, things were going smoothly, maybe because we were never sure if he was swearing or asking for a fork.

But then. Then it was the night before Easter, the perfect time for swearing. He was making Easter cookies with my mom. You know the kind, cut-out cookies, shaped like bunnies and butterflies and ducks. Jett pressed each cookie cutter carefully into the rolled-out dough, and then carefully lifted it up to transfer the cut-out dough to the cookie sheet for baking. Then one piece of dough was too thin and it fell out of the cookie cutter before he could lay it on the cookie sheet, and without missing a beat Jett treated Grandma to his new vocabulary, a little "oh f***", while he moved on to the next cookie, unruffled, unrepentant, unaffected. And on Easter no less.

To Grandma's credit, she didn't say a word and just kept right on with the cookies just like Jett. Since then he's been curse-word free. Charlie, on the other hand, is a different story!

Happy Easter

We've been at my parents' house this week, and oh it is fun to hide Easter eggs in a backyard! (We don't have one). Even when it's only 40 degrees out, and you only hide 10 outside because you don't want to be outside in the cold too long. There's just something about peeking out the window and seeing a plastic pink egg under a tree...Our Easter consisted of a few eggs, a few jellybeans, a few cookies, lots of relaxing, and at the end of the night, the longest toothbrushing Jett has ever tolerated. That's what happens when you eat cookies for breakfast and jellybeans for dinner! We hadn't hyped up the Easter Bunny very much to Jett (or Kai), mostly because I didn't want to be asked about it for days on end before hand. So, Jett and Kai were patient and didn't hunt for Easter eggs until after their nap. Actually, Jett found a hidden egg before his nap, but I was able to convince him that that egg was just a "test" egg, so The Bunny could find out if Jett liked jellybeans or not. The Bunny wouldn't fill the rest of the eggs until after his nap. Very clever, huh?

We had a great day and I hope you did too. Happy Easter!

Grandma and Jett

Jett and Uncle Nathan

Also, Happy Birthday, Grandma Bee. We love you still.

His first bike ride

There's something about a bike. You remember the feeling, don't you? It's early Spring, and your ungloved hands are cold on the handlebars. Your eyes tear up a little in the wind, but you aren't cold enough to put on your hat, no, because now it is Spring and the snow is gone, and there is still a chill in the air, but it is maybe the last chill for months. You zip your coat up all the way, but still the wind spills down your neck and you don't care. You're riding a bike!

You ride down the middle of the street because you can, because the road is yours, because there are no cars. Yesterday you had trouble getting over the curbs and through the potholes, but today you are stronger. You have the feel of the bike in your hands, the pedals under your feet. The freedom of the wind and the sun and the power of riding a bike in Spring.

Your tricycle is red and shiny. A silver bell sits perched on the silver handlebars and red and white tassels swing from the ends. You sit on the seat, back straight, eyes forward. Your feet touch the pedals. Hood up, zipper zipped, shoes velcro-ed, peddling peddling. You look the way I imagine (almost) three-year-olds everywhere, jubilant, glorious, free.

You pedal faster than I can walk, and so I run to catch up with you and close the distance between us. I will gather up the wind, gather up the Spring, take back everything in the space between us. I'll pull you back in close one more time, then woosh! Let the wind out, let Spring out, let you out, woosh! With the wind at your back, peddling peddling, smiling smiling.

432 Months

Happy Birthday, Charlie! Today you are 432 months old.

What a day you've had.

This morning Jett and Kai woke us up at 5:30. There was so much inexplicable crying that we both had to get up to share cheering-up duties, even though I swear I was going to let you sleep in, I really was. The day improved with sweet potato/chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Sorry you had to cook them for all of us - I had to feed Kai, you know! I'll make it up to you by changing all the poopy diapers for the rest of the day. Except, I think I hear my phone ringing, and no, I don't smell anything suspicious...gotta run!

Happy birthday, Charlie! We love you.

the boys, the cake, the presents

birthday puzzle

A collector and a taster

Yesterday Jett and I went for a little walk around the block. Our mission? To collect things and put them in Jett's pockets. We collected rocks and empty acorn shells mostly. We stopped at every single tree along the way to inspect the grass and dirt around the trunk and see what we could find. 

"Oh, look, Mama!" "Another one!" "There's a good one!" "Put it in my Pock-et." 

Wow, he is a cute little collector.

We walked and walked and talked and talked and got down on our hands and knees (well, he did, I spent my time squatting and trying to keep my pants clean). We stuffed his pockets with bits of dirt and nature and than ran home to show Daddy and spread everything out on a plate so we could see it better.

It was such an awesome time-killer, I mean activity. He spread everything out on the plate, and then lined all of the items out on the counter. He made big circles with the rocks and acorn shells and they looked pretty cool. Then he dropped each item into a glass jar, one at a time, and noticed how each one sounded a little different when it landed in the jar. Charlie was busy in the kitchen and I was on the phone, but I felt like we had our own little preschool going on. What a wholesome activity, I thought, as I patted myself on the back.

Five minutes later he had dumped the glass jar out on the couch and was cleaning the dirt off of each stone - with his tongue. There he goes again, just keeping me humble.