you remember the one. *updated with a bonus episode.*

Ah. Home sweet blog.

This week has been full of new episodes of Stephanie's Family Circus. There was the One with the Roach, wherein a disgusting thumb-sized (which is closer to hand-sized, for little ones) outdoor cockroach materialized out of thin air and landed on Asher in the bathtub. Picture me, screaming (OH HOW I HATE ROACHES), Asher screaming and doing the there's-a-roach-on-me dance, and Silas deeming the whole thing Sketchy and screaming in agreement. In the end we left the roach to drown in the bathtub. I sat on the floor of my room with two sudsy sobbing naked children, one on either knee, trying to convince them and myself that roaches aren't carnivorous, and we would all be okay. It was quite a moment.

Then there was The One With the Mud, in which Asher and Silas taught their delicate female counterparts about the beauty of dirt. For all the times I've taken my camera to the park, I really can't believe I didn't have it with me that day. They had a BLAST. We would all congregate around a slide that invariably emptied into a puddle, watch them catapult down the slide and into the filth, and applaud. There was mud in ears, mud in diapers, mud in curls ... So very fun.

There was also The One Where Silas Grows Up - climbing the big slide at Chick fi1-A (seriously most children are over two years old before they can manage those steps, for those of you unfamiliar with fast food playgrounds) and pummeling down, over and again. He also got his first pair of tennis shoes, which were christened at a different playground this morning, and he burned his fingers on the tires yesterday (did you know to pay attention when your children are around car tires? Because I really didn't. He's going to have the scars to prove it). He also mastered the art of a kiss, and will subsequently pucker up at the slightest provocation, delighting us all. This morning Brian told him good-bye for the day, and Silas kissed his cereal in response. All of that in a week. This part of babyhood happens so fast! I never get over it.

And there was The One Where Stephanie Gets Offered a Job. Three (more or less) in the past two weeks, in fact. In this economy (it's actually because of this economy that my position is in high demand, but that's another story) ... so I called another program this morning - one that has suggested the possibility of a future with them, but has never approached me - and asked if they would create a VERY part-time position and hire me to do it. It was pretty ballsy, even for me. I like my life, I don't need a job. But two mornings a week would not be a major life change for my family. The position would be a challenge, and would be a good next move for my career. They may not hire me, but still. It's always nice when people are calling with work, right?

And there was The One with the Soccer Game, wherein Asher had his first invitation to go somewhere with a friend without a family member with him. I wish you could have seen that little boy jump out of the chair, sprint through our leaving-the-house routine, then wait for his ride on the front steps, wearing his back pack, ready to go. It was SO. CUTE. He went with my friend Jamie's family to a neighborhood soccer game, where he and his buddy Andrew lapped the field (and jumped off the walls) for a few hours. I love watching my kids enjoy their lives - making friends, finding puddles, climbing slides. I love it all.

And then it's now. Happy Thursday all.

Wait - one more. The One About Shampoo. Baron, with your reasonable comment and being a GUY and all, it was your comment that sparked Brian's interest, and now he's doing it. Day One 'Poo Free. For crying out loud. He also called me and said, "Did you know there's this whole MOVEMENT where people are doing everything naturally? Cloth diapers and no chemical cleaners and everything." Um, yes, I did know that. It's EVERYWHERE, and now Brian's going to have something new to obsess over on the internet. Okay, fine, but I'm not giving up my Febreze. I'm just saying.

Good night.

so many things

On life with Baby H (who doesn't actually live at my house, to be clear, but is HERE, in my immediate family, and is shifting the landscape a bit):

- Something about seeing The Baby makes Asher lose. his. mind. He does fine when he's around The Baby, but afterward, he is alternately desperately needy and /or desperately misbehaving, and just generally desperate. Brian and I are guessing that A New Baby in the Family causes some sort of visceral sibling-esque reaction, a remembrance of things past. As a result I am digging up new stores of patience. Insert deep breath here.

- Perception really is everything. The picture below, taken this afternoon, marks the moment when Silas officially became a humongous babyzilla who must surely be capable of frying his own eggs and driving himself to the park. As of this moment, he is no longer The Baby.



Like I said, the landscape shifted. Right in front of the camera.

- Here are a few other pictures of Baby H, as requested by Elizabeth. He is every bit as beautiful as you would expect him to be.



- And my sister is a natural mama. I'm not at all surprised, but something about watching my baby sister morph into a mother is an experience I don't know how to accurately describe. So I'll just say that it is good.

On life with Silas:
- Silas and food. Just putting those two words together makes me want to sigh. He cannot eat any (at all, ever) oats, dairy, sweet potatoes, or cinnamon. (Keep in mind that ruling out dairy typically means ruling out almost any baked good, and no oats means no granola bars or cereals). Red dye causes him to break out (which rules out sausage, hot dogs - not that we eat them anyway, but still - many medications, and most popsicles and sweets), soy upsets his stomach. Clearly Silas's options for meals are limited. And now he has decided that He Has An Opinion about what he eats. The boy will not touch one bean. Not a single one. The other night Brian added a SINGLE black bean to his mound of grilled chicken, just to see if he would notice, and His Majesty located it and spit it directly out of his mouth. He's also tired of sandwich meat, and will only eat peanut butter if it is spread very thin and he's in a good mood. He throws his rice milk, drops avocado over the side of the high chair, lets carrots fall out of his mouth. I'm honestly running out of ideas. I can usually swing dinner and snacks, but breakfast and lunch are hard. How many scrambled eggs or whole wheat bagels can one child eat? And it's only a matter of time before he becomes bored with those as well, and then what will I do? Silas and food, Silas and food ...

- And now I will tell you the very cutest Silas story ever.

Asher had just seen The Baby, and was consequently melting into a puddle on the floor. I was holding him in the recliner, hoping proximity to me might right his world a little. But late afternoon is normally Silas's time to be held, and he came toddling over to me, arms outstretched, hopeful. "No, baby," I said. "Brother needs a little privacy. Go choose a toy." So rather than throwing himself to the floor (which is what would typically happen), he was resourceful. Silas walked into the kitchen where Brian was working, took his finger, and tugged him toward the living room. Brian followed his lead to the living room rug. He sat down, and Silas climbed into his lap, then rested his head against Brian's chest. He was determined to have some time in somebody's lap, and since mine was already claimed, he found another. So cute.

And with that I'm off. Thanks for sticking with me - it looks like I had a lot to tell you guys tonight. Enjoy your evening.

true stories

We all have a summer cold (BOO) and I have absolutely no interest in spending much time on the computer tonight. There's an episode of America's Funniest Home Videos calling my name (by the way, I have two new shows to watch - America's Funniest Home Videos and Amazing Wedding Cakes. Yes, they do still make episodes of AFV, as it is known among fans, and it is every bit as funny as it was back in the day. How many times can watching someone fall down make you laugh? EVERY TIME, friends. It is also CLEAN and NOT reality television, which are my top requirements for good tv. Also, Amazing Wedding Cakes is WAY better than Cake Boss. It is a longer show, so it demonstrates more of the actual work that goes into the cakes, plus there is less ego. Less ego equals better television.)

But I digress.

I'm off to hold down the couch for a few hours, but first, a few moments from my day that just can't go unnoticed. Such as:

1. Asher has finally come to the realization that it was his BARN that mooed way back when and scared the peediddle out of him in the dead of night, not the actual cow. He has now decided all cows are redeemable and not scary at all, and he. loves. them. He walks around with one in particular in his hand or pocket all the time, announcing, "I love my cow! He didn't moo at me! He loves me! He is my animal!" Every time he holds up the cow to make his Proclamations, Silas moos (lips and chin sticking straight out, for effect). It is the best thing ever.

2. On the way home from the groomer, Asher asked if dogs wear bras.

3. On the same ride home, he kept asking me about NPR (which I was attempting - however futile - to hear over the din in the backseat). He thought they were saying Magical Public Radio. I thought my Republican friends would enjoy that.

4. Asher also calls the space between his nose and his upper lip his "muskrat."

5. At the groomer's today, Asher bit Silas on the hand (completely maliciously - this is not the toddler-teether-biting of last summer, this is YOU PISSED ME OFF AND I'M GOING TO BITE YOU biting, and every one of you were right. The difference is obvious). Silas - who was already congested and weepy and generally miserable - completely fell apart, and Asher lost his chance to poke around the pet store for fun. (Picture me: shedding golden retriever attached to my arm as he's doing the slow run down the center aisle, while I'm pushing a monstrosity known as a double stroller and attempting not to trip - slapstick style - over the leash wrapped around my legs. Meanwhile, Asher is removing flesh from his brother and Silas is flailing, head thrown backward and completely flushed, screaming his protest, nose pouring ... yeah, it was like that.) I actually heard myself saying, "When you bite your brother, you don't get to see the parakeets," and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud at the whole scenario.

With that I'm off. Happy Monday everyone.

1. I am just like a small child, in that the more tired I am, the harder it is for me to sleep. It is INFURIATING the way my mind just will not cooperate with my body when I'm this tired. I've been awake at (or after) 1:30 a.m. for the last 7 days for various random reasons, and now I'm the kind of delirious that only new parents and college students know. Which of course means that my mind will be in overdrive as soon as my head hits the pillow (What was that? Is a baby crying? What about now?) So I'll be using children's Benadryl as my sedative of choice this evening. Oh well - at least I'm such a wimp when it comes to medication that children's Benadryl still works.

2. Today was good, in that there was general cooperation and a spirit of good will in our home. (Asher even played well with another little friend for an hour or so of unstructured play - as he would say, "I didn't even cry or scream or whine!" Nice.) But today was hard for a few reasons (for the most obvious, see #1). Also, there was an insurance blip keeping me from getting Silas's reflux medication refilled, and for the past 36 hours he has been refluxy and pitiful. I'm a little concerned that his reflux is increasing as he's gotten older, rather than decreasing. I'm also praising God for Zantac. Seriously, our home would be insane without it. Someone joked tonight that a whole family suffers from a baby's reflux. That's the truth now. The same woman also mentioned Silas should see a pediatric gastroenterologist, because if it hasn't gone away by now, it's not going to. Maybe she's right, but honestly? I am not interested in seeing another specialist. I've seen three with Silas by now, and every time I end up rolling my eyes and wishing we'd stayed home (except for the cardiologist, who had the social skills of my bookshelf but was incredibly smart. We left his office with new factual information, at least). Aside from the tubes, which could not be done by my regular pediatrician, no specialist has ever done or told me anything that my pediatrician had not said first. Seriously she has never been wrong. Which means a. I have one IMPRESSIVE pediatrician, and b. he really doesn't need to see a gastroenterologist. Just pass the Zantac and nobody gets hurt.

3. The 1000th post came and went unnoticed here at across the gypsy flatroad. I'm pretty sure I should congratulate you for continuing to show up on occasion, more than myself for making it to 1000. Someone commented the other day that they do not have the mental space to keep up a blog, and it reminded me how valuable blogging is to me. This IS my mental space. This is where I come to think, and without it - and you, reading - where would I be? Muttering to the plants and cursing at the dog, probably. So thanks guys. I'm a little less crazy thanks to you.

I have a cold (read: I hab a code). I don't think I'm especially whiney in life, but for whatever reason, this cold in particular makes me want to sit on the couch and be left alone. Not. possible.

So, we'll move on. I've had umpteen posts floating in my head for a while now, but none of them ever come to fruition. Sadly. Still, I need to tell you guys some kind of important things, and if I don't have time to write it well, I'll at least take the time to write it down.

Next week is our last Sunday at our church. Brian has been offered another worship leading position in town. It was hard to decide to leave where we are, because we are so comfortable there. I can wear jeans, I can hand off a baby to run to the restroom. I can rely on an elder to catch Asher before he climbs the stage. They love us and we love them, and now that I've done this a few times I realize that kind of relationship does not always develop when you worship and are employed in the same place. Nothing negative is shaping our decision in any way, but there are a few spiritual reasons and a few practical reasons we've decided to make the move. If you want to know more, email me and I'll happily share.

But, because of the timing of changing churches, I have been in this baby dedication conundrum that I think is finally resolved (I think). We're going to combine Silas's dedication and birthday party (the new church will only baptize, they will not dedicate babies. And while I clearly agree with their theology on some level - otherwise why would I dedicate him either? - I just don't want to take the experience of baptism away from my kids. I was baptized as an infant and resented that when my faith became my own, I had no means of making a public profession. Assuming we remain Presbyterian - and my assumption is that we will - my kids will, Lord willing, be in the same position.) We've decided not to baptize our infants only for that reason. However - after deciding to combine the birthday party and dedication, it occurred to me that several of our friends now may not be comfortable attending a home grown baby dedication. So much of my understanding of the Sacraments was formed at Chrysalis (i.e., church camp) and from living with the Searcys that I'd forgotten it is not commonplace for others to have Communion with their dinner at home, or in an outdoor tabernacle served by mimes. I hope people will come anyway - to the party if not the dedication, but to the dedication too, right? But it's done now. Reservations are made, flights are booked, it's on.

And can I just veer off topic a little? As I was writing about Communion and the Sacraments and thinking of when and how I've experienced them, it reminded me of Jesus, and how he brought the sacred to the mundane. Georgia's Mom is preparing a sermon right now about Matthew 25 - I was naked and you clothed me, I was hungry and you fed me - and about how the Christian life is about seeing - Lord, when did we see you hungry? - and what we choose to see. It's so true. What I choose to see - and how I choose to respond - in large part defines me. I just can't help but think that Christ is delighted by homegrown ceremonies - youth group foot washings and impromptu baptisms, Communions at church camp and baby dedications in the park. Bringing - and seeing - the sacred in the mundane.

Anyway, we're going to have a homegrown baby dedication in the park by the river, and I couldn't be more excited about it. There's going to be a watermelon-looking cake, and a real watermelon, and it will be great fun. I don't usually send invitations to out of state friends (unless I already know you're planning on coming), but if you're going to be in the area on the 20th of Juen, you're all invited.

Good night all.

sickly

Hi. This is me, waving my white flag.

Asher is sick. He woke up at 2 am with a fever and cough that sounded disturbingly like croup (I had croup once, remember? So I know it when I hear it). But it never developed into the full-blown consistent barking-hack of croup, so I no longer think that's what it is. He has an occasional fever, an occasional - bad - cough, and tonight he threw up his ice cream. But he's not nauseated, because he immediately wanted his pacifier back, then drank water and brushed his teeth without gagging. It sounds like the beginnings of the death crud my parents have had since before Thanksgiving, the death crud that has required three rounds of antibiotics and steroids before it was squelched, the death crud that caused me to avoid seeing my family for an entire month so as not to expose my children. Look at that, it found us anyway.

Also, Silas is teething. Seriously, HOW LONG have I been saying he's teething? Well, he's either nearing the end of the First Tooth blues or catching what Asher has, and I prefer to think it's his teeth. He no longer takes naps unless he's on me, and he cried so hard today when I put him on his back that I had to feed him for comfort. Yeah, as I'm writing that I'm thinking it might not be teeth. It might be ears, or the six month old version of impending death crud. At least he's not coughing yet.

I really can do okay when both kids are sick. We've been down this road before. I don't (usually) get frustrated or discouraged, so long as nothing else is expected from me. Birthday parties? Forget it. Grocery runs? Not a chance. Phone calls? Will be returned.

So if you live around me, beware. I'm not ignoring you specifically, so much as I'm just hunkering down. Try me again in February.

PS - Someone tried to call me collect today from a county jail in north Alabama. Anyone know anything about this?

monday monday

Georgia's Mom - who has an identity of her very own, apart from her children, but who also shares a name with me, so if I refer to her by her name, people think I am referring to myself in the third person. Obviously that sounds a little weird and inevitably confuses someone, so she's been identified by her children only for clarity's sake. Not because her identity is entirely defined by this one particular role she has in life - Georgia's Mom is going to South Africa tomorrow. Last year about this time she went to Israel. She has also been to the prayer room in Kansas City and has spent a weekend with Eugene Peterson. She joined this - group, I'm sure it has a more specific name - of ministers that has allowed her all of these incredible opportunities, and tomorrow she leaves for her last. Fifteen days in South Africa. Just as she did last fall, she has promised to update her blog while she is gone. So please follow with me as I read about her experience and wish I was there.

In other news, some of you will laugh at what I'm about to say, because it is so utterly predictable. We have this trip planned, right? We leave Thursday for Nashville, to stay with Mikkee and see an old friend get married, and visit with a whole group of friends we never see any more. It's going to be great fun. Then next Wednesday we leave for a long weekend - just the four of us, headed to the beach. For many people a long weekend (and two in a row) is really just part of normal life, and that was once true for us too. But now we have children. And a dog. And Brian has a job that requires him to, you know, show up. So for us to take four days to do something fun, just because we want to, not because Brian has a gig or a business trip, is a big deal. As in, not-since-we-became-parents-have-we-done-that kind of big deal. We've been talking and thinking and planning for months for our two long weekends in a row, and I have been so excited about them both. Which of course now means (you know what's coming, right?) both boys are sick. Asher woke up with a runny nose and fever yesterday morning; Silas woke up with it this morning. I'm trying very hard to just deal with the day at hand, and not to assume that today's runny nose is going to be Thursday's ear infection. But never in his life has Asher had just a runny nose - not one time. So call me jaded, but I can't help but expect him to come down with an ear infection Wednesday night or Thursday morning, just as we're packing the car. I took them both to the doctor this morning, hoping to pre-empt the thing, but alas. Today it's just a cold. Because it's only Monday.

Someone commented earlier today that my kids get sick a lot. It's the cost of making friends. Before Asher was old enough to need playgroups, he was rarely sick. Friends bring their germs, though. Poor Silas is going to be exposed to things much earlier than Asher was. It's just part of being a little brother.

One more thing - will you show a little grace if I tell you something irreverant and a little off-color? Usually this is a PG blog, but it's just too funny not to share. Before I go on, let's be clear that I'm not poking fun at anyone's theology. Everyone thinks they're right when it comes to theology, and I'm not interested in debating the specifics of any of it tonight. Having said that - I've shared before that Brian reads forums and listens to talk radio out of morbid curiosity. He's gotten better about curtailling the amount of time he devotes to this macabre fascination, but I still hear a story or two a week about what the fundies (how does one spell "fundi" anyway? i? ie? y?) are saying at Rapture Ready or what Sean Hannity said that day. So it was no surprise when Brian started laughing out loud recently as he was staring at the computer screen. "What is it?" I asked. "The fundies. Listen to this. '... On the bright side, maybe America will be ripe for a soul harvest, separate the wheat from the shaft.'"

We've been laughing about it since.

in no particular order

1. Why do I always think "theater" is spelled "theatre"? Where did I learn that?

2. I write to you guys all the time. Really I do. If I ever discover a way to blog while I walk, I will write the best, most thought provoking posts. But by the time I get to sit down and write, all of those ideas have been swallowed up by the pace of the day. Sadly.

3. Silas is at such a sweet age. He's all bubbles and grins right now. He found his hands this week. Also, the boy is positively ROUND. I tried to reach under his little double chin to wash his neck during his bath, but tonight - hand to God - I could not find his neck. I love this time. Really, from here on, it just gets more and more fun. But I love how cuddly he is right now.

4. In some ways, it's more fun to have a baby this time, because I'm not so irrational and fretful about day-to-day stuff. But I also don't get the same time with Silas that I had with Asher, and that's sad. I miss having that time, especially now that he's interacting more. But I keep reminding myself that God has given me these babies, in this order. Silas will have a different experience from Asher, but it's not necessarily worse. Just different.

growing loud

Ohhhh.

Asher has entered a new stage, meaning we have all entered a new stage with him. He has learned to put two words together, and now he won't stop talking. Ever. In the car, in the high chair, reading, playing - always with the words. And if you don't acknowledge them, he will become increasingly louder and more persistent until you do.

Dinner tonight was comical. Mr. Mark (as he's known by Asher) is here for a couple of days. Asher LOVES Mr. Mark, and because he is one of those rare adults who will engage children, not just humor them, Asher is pretty well convinced Mark exists solely to talk to him. "Maaaahhk! Maaahhk!" All evening. Punctuated with "'Om Samon" (interpreted "some salmon" - meaning he wanted more). "Maahk! Maahk! Om Samon! Om Samon! Om Samon! Maahk! Om Samon!" fistfuls of salmon heading to his mouth as he talks, mind you. "Mama Daddy Mahk. Mama Daddy Mahk. Om Samon." Good Word.

Also, he didn't nap well (hasn't been lately, actually - I'm blaming the tooth that's just barely visible under the skin. Any other guesses?), and not sleeping well has the uncanny effect of turning my sweet cooperative Asher into a regular old toddler. A toddler who, when told to sit beside his brother's blanket, stands up and stomps on the blanket instead.

Between the "Om Samon" and the stomping, we decided bedtime was at 6:25 tonight. Know what? He didn't argue.

But his narration can be cute. He has started putting his hands over his face, calling "Asher?" then saying, "There he is!" It's a one man peek-a-boo. I can also get him to do almost anything if I say "like a big boy." I have found a new trick for making drinking water fun. Water has lost its luster the past few months; he prefers milk. Which is great, except that milk, in Alabama, in August, is not always the best thing for the playground. But if I put water in a regular cup, not a sippee, and tell him he gets to drink it like a big boy, he'll down the whole thing.

This much I know - when they are newborns, people tell you to just do whatever works. Find the equipment, or the sleep position, that allows you to get some peace in life, and go with it. There is plenty of time to undo bad habits. I'm beginning to apply that logic to toddlers as well. Whatever will get him to cooperate - so long as I can live with the consequences - sounds like a good idea to me. The promise of (and of course administering of, in due course) a Quiet Party will keep him from screaming in the grocery cart. A Big Boy Cup keeps him hydrated in the heat. He'll wash his hands if bubbles are involved. I feel like my role as mother has become part goalie, part nurse, and part - I don't even know what to call it, but some caricature that would land me a part on The Wiggles.

Whew.

But I'm game. I signed up for this, and I really honestly love talking to him - if only we didn't have to always talk. Always. Aaaaalllwaaayyyyys. So send me your best toddler trick, and I'll keep you posted on what works for me. Between the two of us, we might just make it to his second birthday.

Apparently I was developing the wild-eyed, desperate look of a mother who needed the chance, for the love of all that is holy, to just finish my sentence, so yesterday I had a Break. Asher spent the night at Grandma's, and Silas, after spending the afternoon with Grandma (Brian's mom), stayed with my mom (Marmee) at our house for a few hours last night.

It was everything I thought it could be.

Brian and I went paddling, and the weather was nearly CHILLY. We also nearly sank our boat, but so did every other canoe that went down that rapid yesterday afternoon, so it must have been the water level that messed us up. Then we came home, cleaned up, and had dinner AND dessert in a restaurant that did not offer me a coloring page at the hostess' stand. It was lovely.

Please don't get me wrong. I adore my kids, and I love being home with them. But sometimes I just need a little time away. It helps me enjoy my job more and do it better.

So this is me, with less tension in my shoulders and less frustration in my voice. Aahhh.

tuesday morning news

Good morning.

Our friend Mark is staying with us this week. Mark is an artist in temperament and in skill. He is a dreamer, an activist, the kind of believer who wants only to honor God, not to build a reputation or career in ministry. He talks in pictures and engages my children. It's good to have him here.

In other news, I realized Asher is misbehaving more because he has too much unstructured time (thank you Take Home Nanny). So we made a Fun Box over the weekend. It has preschool-ish activities that don't require much prep or clean-up for me. Asher and I no longer have two hours at a time to spend playing together, but we often have twenty minutes here, fifteen there. The Fun Box is perfect for that. And he's only screamed once since we started.

I have also decided to let Silas sleep on his belly. The trade-off is that he sleeps in a common area at all times. At night, his bassinet is right beside me. I am not the kind of sleeper who wakes at every grunt (that's the upside of sleep deprivation, I guess), but I always hear him when he's really stirring around, even if he doesn't cry. I'm counting on waking up if he is struggling, I guess. Whether that's guile or faith I'm not sure.

Happy Tuesday.

Silas is starting to wake up. I love how babies, after they are born, take a nap for two weeks. He is nearing the two week mark, and has been more awake today. Let the fun begin.

We went to one of those places this morning that has all of the blow-up equipment for kids (moon walks, slides, etc). This place has a preschool hour on weekday mornings, and since we're vacating, we took Asher. He loved it - loved it so much that I don't have one single good picture to share, because he was too busy playing and our digital camera is starting to show its age. I would love to have the kind that has a zero delay when you take a picture. All of my pictures from the past six months are of the side of Asher's face, because by the time the camera works, he has moved on. Alas.

Anyway, it's been a fun week. Here are some pictures from the past few days.




Playing with his dad. Have I mentioned that Brian is perfectly suited for raising little boys? He's the biggest kid on any playground. When we lived with the Searcys, he used to make up obstacle courses at the park and get the kids to compete on who could make the best time. When we were at the church picnic, he had the kids organized and trying all kinds of stunts on the water slides. He had as much fun as Asher did this morning. And slept just as well after lunch.



Making a cake with me. We're adjusting to me not being able to pick him up. I spend a lot of time on the floor. My favorite part of making the cake was Asher's spontaneous "YUUUMMM" as he ate the batter.



Enjoying the batter.



Look at how small that baby is. You can't see it here as much. Look.



This is Silas, hanging out on the couch. Tiny. By the way, he does have other clothes. Somehow, the only two times he's worn that shirt, his picture has ended up on the blog. Go figure.

all of the random things I've been meaning to tell you.

* Someone recently asked us if we ever miss Asher being a newborn. We nearly laughed out loud. NO. Emphatically, absolutely no. It's such a sweet time, but it was just as stressful as it was fun. What I do miss, though, when I think about it, is six, seven, eight months old. Six months old is GOLDEN. He could smile, he could eat, he could SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT, he could laugh out loud and enjoy new things. He was also stationary (briefly, because Asher could roll around the house like a champ pretty young), slept for a good portion of the day, and was easily amused. Six months old is the age when moms foolishly begin to think, gosh, if this is what life as a mom is going to be like, I can handle another one. I could handle being pregnant and doing this, even. And then, about the time you get pregnant, they they begin to move. Anyway, I LOVED last summer. I love this one too, for different reasons, and as you all know, I absolutely love watching him learn to talk and do new things. But I do kind of miss six months old, and I'm excited that I'm about to get to do it again. We have a lot to look forward to.

* Macaroni and cheese. That's what I've been eating lately. Also, fresh peaches. Aside from grandparents, fresh local peaches are the best thing about living in Alabama again. Canned peaches, while tasty in their own right, have been so loaded down with sugar they should really be called The Candy Formerly Known as Peaches, and grocery store peaches taste like cardboard. But local peaches, after a rainy spring, are the best fruit ever. Asher and I together can easily put away four in a sitting (they're small, okay?). Brian has been gone more evenings than usual lately, and our dinner de jour has been macaroni and cheese, (fresh) green beans, and peaches. YUM.

* My niece flies in this weekend to spend her summer in town. Can you believe she is 13 years old and going into the 8th grade? Me neither. She is really excited to be here for Silas' birth, and she and Asher love each other (Asher talks about her all the time). I love her too, and can't wait to see her.

* Last night I woke up to contractions. I had them consistently for one hour before they stopped. They were significant enough to make me feel nauseous, but clearly they were not actual labor contractions or I would be holding a newborn right now. I didn't have false labor with Asher until the weekend before he was born, so the idea of doing that for the next month is new to me. I really wish I could call a meeting with my uterus, and explain that this child will need to be surgically removed, so there is absolutely no reason to be rehearsing for the big day. My muscles can just relax, already. Also, while the idea of no longer being pregnant is appealing, Silas needs to stay put at least another week or so. So, seriously, back off with the contractions.

* Speaking of - little boys and aggression, I swear. I have such a mild-mannered child, but that does not prevent us from having to address hitting, pushing, biting, and general aggression pretty regularly. He started hitting Taylor (and pulling his tail) a few weeks ago, so we told him to tell Taylor to "back off" if he's too close. I mean, the dog is still significantly larger than Asher and gets excited enough to wag his entire back end when we come home, and that back end can take Asher out. So. We were at our neighbor's house, and the other little boy was attempting to share a toy with Asher, and Asher started to hit him. I corrected him, of course, so he looks at the little boy and says, "Back off!" Yeah, I'm not sure how I feel about that. On one hand, an 18-month-old using language instead of aggression is definitely progress. On the other, perhaps we should have chosen a more appropriate phrase ...

* Brian, through no fault of his own, got to spend a night at the beach with one of his good friends yesterday for free. He was absolutely apologetic about it, as well he should be. He doesn't even LIKE the beach. I love it, and wanted so badly to go this spring (I've missed my window now), but it just didn't come together. At least if he liked it I could be happy for him to get to do something fun. Alas. Maybe we'll go this fall.

* I won a book about clowns, written by Diane Keaton, from a blog contest. And that, my friends, is the MOST random thing that has happened to me in a long time. I am pretty excited about the book, mostly because it's a good conversation starter. "Yes, I won it in a blog contest. Isn't that funny?"

What about you? What's the strangest thing you've ever won? What age do you miss? What fun trip is your spouse taking that you're missing this summer? What's your favorite fresh food? Pick a question, any question. It's time for All Things Random.

The most surprising aspect of being a mother is the intensity of my concentration for my children. I'm not obsessed, I'm not paranoid, I'm not (usually) fretful. I'm just focused. It starts sometime in the last trimester. I can feel it now, already, with Silas, as though sheer force of will could keep him safe and healthy. It's why you're hearing less and less from me these days, by blog, email, or phone. All of my energy has been turned inward, toward my little home, and the babies entrusted to my care.

And this week, it has been on Asher. He's sick, not wipe-your-nose-and-go-play sick, but when-is-dehydration-serious sick. Yesterday he stopped drinking, and went 8 hours with a basically dry diaper. Today he's eaten a little more, and I have bribed the boy with every sugary presweetened juice available to me. I put sweet tea in his sippee cup, for pete's sake. I've given him melon at every meal, and I think it must soothe his infected throat, because so far it has been the biggest success. Once again I'm surprised by the intensity of my concentration. My mom came by today and brought crossword puzzles, "to keep my mind sharp while I'm home with babies." If her intentions hadn't been so good, I may have been offended. There are no bonbons or soap operas here. My mind is still sharp as ever. Today, it was focused on hydration.

It's not the end of the world, Asher being sick. Tomorrow will be better, and by Monday he'll be back to normal. But for now, until he's chasing the dog and I'm changing leaky diapers again, I will not be able to think of much besides my sick baby.

odds and ends

I have no business blogging when I'm this delirious. Please be kind when reading, because I have no idea what I'm about to write, and that always makes for good television.

1. In the park yesterday I met one of Those Women. Now the truth is that the parents I know put heart and soul into raising their kids, so it's no wonder they (we) have such strong opinions about minutia like juice boxes or pacifiers. I try to keep this in mind when I accidentally stumble into a hot spot with a mom I don't know, because goodness knows I have my own. We all love our kids, we all are doing the best we can, and we're all screwing up in ways we don't even know about yet (though we're certainly going to be told when they get older, don't you think?). Even so, this woman was just ... overbearing, moralizing her children's every move, and dominating every adult conversation in a twenty-yard radius. Also, she kept telling her toddler not to be angry. Really? You really want to teach your child she can't get angry? You don't think she might, I don't know, blow up a building or something when she's 30 if she doesn't learn how to handle anger constructively when she's 2? To each his own, though, right? It's like a friend of mine says all the time, "I'm definitely going to owe her for therapy for THAT when she is older." Yeah, me too.

2. I saw Laura today. For those who know her, all is well, or is as good as can be expected for a little while. But when I left I was a mess. We'll blame hormones (they get blamed for everything else). I know nothing about being sick, really for real SICK, during pregnancy, and I know nothing about bed rest. But I know too well the feeling of wanting more than anything just to stay pregnant, and having absolutely no control over whether or not that will happen. The good news is that her babies are fine. And every day she stays pregnant is a day they can grow and get stronger. In that regard, every day of waiting is a blessing, though I doubt it feels that way to Laura at this moment. Anyway, she is good, but I was a little nutty this afternoon. But that hardly feels like news anymore.

3. The weather this week has been great. The humidity broke (someone forgot to tell Alabama it's May already, but I'm not complaining), and we have spent as much time as possible outside. "Out-ide!" Asher says, pointing to the door and signing, "please." Asher has discovered digging (as you can see from the pictures in the side bar and last post), so we spend a good bit of every day at the sand box in the park. I was thinking today about how much he is changing, and how fast, and how I know myself, I won't remember half of this when he is older. But I hope I remember how much fun this spring has been, how much I love seeing him learn. I hope that's what I will keep from this time.

4. 32 weeks now, and I feel like it's April of my senior year. In April you don't really want to quit school, because that would be stupid. But if there was a way to both quit school and have your diploma in May, you would do it. If there was a way to skip the end of the semester and exams and moving and all that comes in between, and just get to the part where now you have what you've been working for all this time, you would. That's how I feel. But! On Friday I'm picking up Silas' baby bed (hooray!) and on Saturday (I hope) we're painting his room the best shade of baby-but-not-too blue EVER, and when that is over I will be 33 weeks. So, you know. We're getting there.

5. Want to hear something weird? I wake up every night at midnight, 3:30, and 6:30 a.m. I've tried explaining to my body that in about 8 weeks I'm going to have no choice but to follow this pattern, but my body seems intent on being in sync with an infant's, already.

Ok. With any luck I'm going to sleep for a while. Happy Wednesday, everyone.

sprinklers and observations

Please scroll down to skim the previous post, or the first part of this won't make sense.

1. Picking out a sprinkler with Asher.

We went to Target today and made a quasi-impulse buy. Those of you who know me well know how frugal I am, so to decide at 1:00 to buy a toy and drive home with it by 3:00 is impulsive by my standards. But our air is out (we'll get to that in a minute) and we're on day 2 of 85* weather which means, friends, I hope you enjoyed the spring because it's over. Now we'll just get gradually hotter like frogs in a pot until we all jump out or boil alive, whichever comes first. With that in mind, today seemed like a good day for a sprinkler. And it really was. We picked out a twirling penguin on a surfboard; Asher enjoyed it until he tried to catch the spray and got repeatedly squirted in the face, at which point the water hose became a better toy. The boy has no fear whatsoever of water (his mother would be a little more comfortable if he was slightly more intimidated by it, because since bringing him home from the hospital bathtubs and baby pools look more like death traps than fun to me). But sprinklers feel safer (whether they are or not), and he loved playing in the water. And I loved watching him play.

On a different note, I've been writing observations in my head all day. Want to hear them?

Observation #1: Until a few years ago, I had always worked with babies and toddlers, not preschoolers. This doesn't sound like a big difference, and I guess it's not in most ways, but there is one aspect of teaching 3-5 year-olds for which I was not prepared: a large part of every day is spent discussing poo. I teach J on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and no matter what plans or objectives I have for our day, at least an hour will be devoted to if, when, how, or why we go poo-poo on the potty. After our 23rd unsuccessful trip to the public bathroom in the park with J announcing, "No poo-poo on the potty!", I was beginning to question my life. I felt better when I saw two little boys standing side-by-side, pants at their knees, peeing into the sand box while their mothers watched and laughed. And in the moment, I understood exactly why the moms were laughing - at least they didn't have to change wet clothes. Nobody has a handle on this potty-training thing.

Observation #2: Our air is out. I'm not sure I can pray for my air conditioner with a clear conscience, so I am seriously hoping the whole thing needs to be replaced. It is under warranty until September, and this is the second time (since September - and how often do you use the AC in the winter, even in Alabama?) that it has broken down. Please oh please just die, so we can get a new unit for practically nothing. Please please PLEASE don't wait until next October to die. Amen. Also, I have been thinking about pregnant women in desert climates who must be completely covered to leave their homes. I'm dying in 85* in a t-shirt and ponytail. Do you know how HOT those women must be?

Observation #3: I have picked out a bed for Silas. Do you know that, aside from a travel swing purchased a few weeks after Asher's birth, this will be my first purchase of new baby equipment ever? I have found most things on consignment or yard sales, I borrowed an infant carrier, Asher's bed is a hand-me-down, and our kids have three sets of grandparents. Aside from the occasional outfit (or impulsive sprinkler), we haven't bought much from a store for either of our kids. I guess that should be #2 on my Thousand Gifts list.

Observation #4: I was talking to J's mom today about how anxious I have been about this birth, and she brought some much-needed clarity to my thoughts. She said, "It's because you know how much he means to you now. With your first child, you have no idea how much you are going to love them. Now you know." Yes. Yes I do, and that's why I am so much more afraid. Thank you.

Observation #5: Jon & Kate Plus Eight comes on back-to-back episodes in the middle of the night on TLC. I watch it but I am not impressed. Kate is not a happy woman, or, at least, she does not present herself as such during the taping of the show. I know mothers of large families, and I know how busy they are. But she just doesn't seem to enjoy her life very much. That's my opinion, for what it's worth.

Observation #6: I was shopping today for a baby gift, looking through all of the tiny pink sun dresses, and I had a moment where I actually felt a little sorry for mothers of girls, who have to contend with so much PINK in the world. I kept looking over at the adjacent rack and thinking about how boy clothes are cuter because there are so many colors to choose from. This, from the woman who was so convinced she was having a girl that we didn't even consider boy names until the morning we were driving to the ultrasound. Not once, not at all. We've come a long way, baby.

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

Thanks for the encouragement. It's been a busy week. We sold the old car, shared a cold, almost witnessed a robbery, and picked paint colors for the nursery (I think), on top of all the normal life busyness. So, by 8 pm (my blogging hour), I have been on the couch every night. Anyway, all is well.

Maybe almost witnessing a robbery is a story worth telling? How about my neighbor walked into her house on Wednesday late in the afternoon to find a guy CARRYING her washing machine out her back door. By himself. After he has pulled the entire thing - including the copper pipe - out of the wall. Paula, my neighbor, says, "Who are YOU?" to which the robber replied, "Mike."

So Paula calls 911, because Mike is taking her stuff, and - are you ready for this? - 911 PUT HER ON HOLD. That's when we drove up, and heard yelling in the back yard. I took Asher inside and Brian went around to see what was going on. Paula is trying to save her possessions while ON HOLD with 911, so she calls out, "Brian, call the police!" Brian had the magic voice, apparently, because when he called the yard was surrounded by squad cars within a minute. Mike, of course, had already left. He dropped the washing machine and ran out the front door, into the sunshine.

Does anyone else find this story absurd? On so many levels - how ya gonna pull a washing machine out of a wall and carry it out single-handedly? For that matter, how ya gonna call 911 and be put on hold? The whole thing was like a scene from a sitcom. For me, anyway, because nobody was trying to steal my washing machine. He also stole her television and end tables (end tables?), and trashed her house. Look out for Mike, everyone.

So that's it. That was the highlight of our week. Otherwise, it's been runny noses and car stuff all week.

Have a good weekend.

Opinions are like belly buttons. So here's mine, with a few bonus pictures.

I have had several immunization conversations since the last post. Just so you guys all know, I'm not opposed to immunizations. And Asher has been partially immunized - which is another reason why the fill-in doctor really had no business giving me unsolicited advice on immunizations. We just aren't fully immunizing during the second year. My doctor and I discussed what diseases could potentially be fatal - like meningitis - and Asher received those vaccinations. Everything else will wait until he is closer to school-age. If you start reading the forums and research on immunizations you will see a. the answer you get depends on who you ask, and b. research says one thing, while parents and anecdotal evidence says another. So. We're erring on the side of caution, and rolling the dice on chicken pox. Polio, not so much.

In other news, we're at my parents' house (on the lake) this weekend. This is our first overnight trip here in Asher's memory, and he is equal parts thrilled at hanging out with his grandparents and dismayed at sleeping in a new place. I made the mistake of telling him two hours before we left where we were going, and heard an unending chant of toddler babble that, when interpreted, meant, "BIG DADDY! BOAT! JACK! (the cat) SCOOTER! MARMEE! VACUUM! (he apparently remembered their vacuum from our last visit. Go figure.)" I get it now, why I've always been told not to tell toddlers anything until the moment it is happening. Duly noted.

But he's had a blast. He's already watched Tigger and Pooh, seen BOPES! twice this morning, eaten pancakes, chased the cat, and played the piano. Now he's down for an early nap, while my parents are recovering on the couch.

Here are a few pictures from our adventures:

Two interesting things happened today:

1. We bought a car.


(a googled image identical to the car in our driveway, but not the actual car)


2. The prayer room (from Kansas City) had a day-long meeting in Montgomery, and Brian and I spent the afternoon there.

Of course both of those statements deserve their own posts, but that's all you get tonight. Enjoy your weekend, everyone.

some things you may care about, some things you probably won't.

1. So one of my non-blogging pregnant friends told me water makes a big difference in her energy level. Since she is generally more health-conscience than I am, and since I have not been drinking as much water as I used to, I've decided to take her advice. She drinks 3 liters of water a day. So I bought a water bottle yesterday and was a little disconcerted to realize that after 3 liters of water today (not including glasses of water at lunch and dinner) I did not have to pee more than the average pregnant woman. Um, obviously my body needed some water. In general, my energy comes in spurts, and I am trying to appreciate and use it when it's there, and sit down when it's not (when sitting down is an option). I'm going to stick with the water thing for a while either way, though, just for the general well-being of Silas and me.

2. Another one of my non-blogging friends had a baby this morning. While none of you know her, healthy babies are always news worth sharing. No name yet, but a healthy little boy was born at 5:30 this morning. And she did not have to be induced, to her great pleasure. She was hoping to avoid induction, and this time - her third birth - she did.

3. Someone posted an advertisement on Craig's List giving Brian's cell phone number and promising a free autographed copy of Hannah Montana memorabilia. Was it any of you? If so, that's the best April Fool's joke ever. Hilarious.

4. Last night I had a dream that Asher kept crying just as I was dozing off (which is not outside of the realm of possibility, but fictitious last night, at least). At 2:45 a.m. I woke Brian up telling him to give the baby Tylenol already, so that I could go to sleep. When he tried to appease me and roll over, I sat up and said, "Why are you still in bed? Go!" So, because he is good to me, Brian got up and checked on Asher. The kid was so asleep that when Brian moved him a little, he didn't even squirm. He came back and reported that all was well, but by that time I was already asleep again. Poor Brian. He still has three more months of this, followed by postpartum hormones to look forward to.

5. Some of you said something similar a year ago, but at the time, I couldn't imagine it to be true. But I think the second year of babyhood might be more fun than the first. A year ago I was lamenting sleep and generally way too uptight about the minutia of infant care. But he is learning so much right now - making new associations and learning new words every day - and it is really fun. Plus, I LOVE one nap a day. It's going to be sad to have to stay at home again in the mornings for Silas. If we spend all morning at home, by about 10 am Asher starts saying, "Bye bye?" As in, hello? Isn't it time to go somewhere? It's a fun time in his life and a pretty time of year to do it.