Owen: I need you to change me.
Me: Not now, I'm reading
Owen: I need you to change me.
Me: Not now, I'm doing some reading. Maybe in a bit.
Owen: <grabbing book> I need you to change me.
Me: Don't grab my book. Why do you need to be changed, anyway?
Owen: I'm wet.
Me: Where are you wet?
Owen: On my pajamas.
Me: Where on your pajamas?
Owen: On the back.
Me: <feels the back> No, you aren't wet.
Owen: I need you to change me.
Me: Not now, I'm reading.
Owen: <grabs book> I need you to change me.
Me: Owen, go away.
Owen: <grabs book> I need you to change me.
Me: I'm reading right now. If you get some clothes and bring them down here.
Owen: <grabs book> I need you to get the clothes.
Me: <swats hand> Owen, you can get clothes or do something else but you can't hang around here grabbing my book.
Owen: MOMMY! Mommy, I need you to change me!
J: Go get clothes and bring them down here.
Owen: <brings down clothes> I need you to change me.
Me: <changing Owen> Why do you need another pair of pajamas on?
Owen: These ones are wet.
Me: <feeling pajamas all over> No, they're completely dry.
Owen: No, they are wet.
J: Well, how did they get wet?
Owen: From when I was playing in the toilet.
Saturday, February 9, 2019
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Post Super Bowl
I.
James likes the Super Bowl. Except that he doesn't like it when the Patriots win. Or the Giants (unless they are playing the Patriots) or the Redskins or the Cowboys. He is very happy when a bird team wins the Super Bowl, like the Seattle Seahawks with their QB Russell Wilson (#3), who won Super Bowl XLVIII against the Broncos with their star QB Peyton Manning.
Q for Daddy: Why did you want Peyton Manning to win that game?
So that Peyton, who was a good QB and a funny guy, good retire from the NFL after winning one more Super Bowl. He seemed like he deserved another one.
Yes, and he got to retire after winning Super Bowl 50. That was a short while ago. Three years ago, in 2015.
This year's Super Bowl was bad. Actually the Rams did have an excellent defense. The New England Patriots made no team win the most Super Bowls. Because now they are tied with the Steelers with 6.
II.
I finally played, after 12 years of professional trumpeting, the Canadian Brass arrangement of Bach's Little Fugue in G minor. We had an old VHS tape of a live recital somewhere in Atlanta where they played a bunch of their standard rep, but it was that Little Fugue that I always fast-forwarded to and watched again and again. I tried to transcribe it, I ended up ordering an organ copy, and I practiced all the parts off of the organ score. I tried to re-arrange it again in college, and somehow was never playing with a group that had a proper copy of it. There aren't many pieces left that I can say "always wanted to play it, haven't yet had the chance," and it was fun to tick that one off the list.
III.
The kids don't know that we are ordering their favorite pizza for supper. I'm typing this out in the library while James narrates himself making amazing catches in the living room and Felix and Owen dance to the "demo" songs on the Clavinova. (Owen has it turned up to full volume.) I'm about to announce that they need to put shoes on (and that Owen needs to put pants on) so that we can head out and pick the pizza up. I will record their reactions below:
James-Congratulated me on doing a great job and told me that he is pretending to be Zach Ertz
Owen-Jumped and down screaming and hugging the couch. Still screaming at the top of his lungs. Just thanked me for telling him.
Felix-Still dancing to a Bach 2-part invention from the Clavinova demo.
James likes the Super Bowl. Except that he doesn't like it when the Patriots win. Or the Giants (unless they are playing the Patriots) or the Redskins or the Cowboys. He is very happy when a bird team wins the Super Bowl, like the Seattle Seahawks with their QB Russell Wilson (#3), who won Super Bowl XLVIII against the Broncos with their star QB Peyton Manning.
Q for Daddy: Why did you want Peyton Manning to win that game?
So that Peyton, who was a good QB and a funny guy, good retire from the NFL after winning one more Super Bowl. He seemed like he deserved another one.
Yes, and he got to retire after winning Super Bowl 50. That was a short while ago. Three years ago, in 2015.
This year's Super Bowl was bad. Actually the Rams did have an excellent defense. The New England Patriots made no team win the most Super Bowls. Because now they are tied with the Steelers with 6.
II.
I finally played, after 12 years of professional trumpeting, the Canadian Brass arrangement of Bach's Little Fugue in G minor. We had an old VHS tape of a live recital somewhere in Atlanta where they played a bunch of their standard rep, but it was that Little Fugue that I always fast-forwarded to and watched again and again. I tried to transcribe it, I ended up ordering an organ copy, and I practiced all the parts off of the organ score. I tried to re-arrange it again in college, and somehow was never playing with a group that had a proper copy of it. There aren't many pieces left that I can say "always wanted to play it, haven't yet had the chance," and it was fun to tick that one off the list.
III.
The kids don't know that we are ordering their favorite pizza for supper. I'm typing this out in the library while James narrates himself making amazing catches in the living room and Felix and Owen dance to the "demo" songs on the Clavinova. (Owen has it turned up to full volume.) I'm about to announce that they need to put shoes on (and that Owen needs to put pants on) so that we can head out and pick the pizza up. I will record their reactions below:
James-Congratulated me on doing a great job and told me that he is pretending to be Zach Ertz
Owen-Jumped and down screaming and hugging the couch. Still screaming at the top of his lungs. Just thanked me for telling him.
Felix-Still dancing to a Bach 2-part invention from the Clavinova demo.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
James' School Answers
James has almost finished his Language Arts book for 2nd grade. Here are some highlights from his "Write Your Own Response" answers.
Q. Write a sentence with only one person or thing. Use "is."
A. Owen is fine.
Q. Write a sentence about something that is happening right now. Use the verb "is" in your sentence.
A. I am doing school
Q. Now, write the same sentence in the past tense.
A. I was doing doing school
Q. Write a sentence about something you have.
A. I have a Felix.
Q. Write two sentences below. Use the plural form of at least one word from the box in each sentence.
A. Owen and I have watches.
A. We are as fast as foxes.
Q. Write a sentence using a synonym for the word small.
A. Felix is little
Q. Write a sentence using a synonym for the word yelled.
A. Owen shouted.
Q. Write a sentence using the names of three of your friends.
A. Alexa, Hobbes, and Felix are my friends.
Q. Write a sentence using an antonym for loud.
A. Be quiet, Owen.
Q. The word fair can have two meanings: equal or a place, like a carnival, where there are rides and games. Write two sentences using the word fair. It should have a different meaning in each sentence.
A. The Patriots don't play fair.
A. Let's go to the fair.
Q. Write a sentence with only one person or thing. Use "is."
A. Owen is fine.
Q. Write a sentence about something that is happening right now. Use the verb "is" in your sentence.
A. I am doing school
Q. Now, write the same sentence in the past tense.
A. I was doing doing school
Q. Write a sentence about something you have.
A. I have a Felix.
Q. Write two sentences below. Use the plural form of at least one word from the box in each sentence.
A. Owen and I have watches.
A. We are as fast as foxes.
Q. Write a sentence using a synonym for the word small.
A. Felix is little
Q. Write a sentence using a synonym for the word yelled.
A. Owen shouted.
Q. Write a sentence using the names of three of your friends.
A. Alexa, Hobbes, and Felix are my friends.
Q. Write a sentence using an antonym for loud.
A. Be quiet, Owen.
Q. The word fair can have two meanings: equal or a place, like a carnival, where there are rides and games. Write two sentences using the word fair. It should have a different meaning in each sentence.
A. The Patriots don't play fair.
A. Let's go to the fair.
Monday, January 21, 2019
MLKJ Day Getaway
We owe many thanks to Nama, Papa, and Martha for taking the boys this weekend. We delivered them earlier than expected to make sure we could beat the big storm that rolled through, and then ended up having even more time together than expected when Sunday services were cancelled for both of us.
We slept in, shoveled out the driveway, drank lots of coffee, ate a late lunch without anyone complaining about how it was past noon and WHY HADN'T WE EATEN YET? We stayed in a lovely hotel downtown that we didn't have to clean and turned the thermostat up to 75. We watched the entirety of both championship games without ever having to answer any of these questions: "What is the score?" "Who will win the coin toss?" "Who will score next?" "Do you think Nick Foles is better than this quarterback?"
We ate a slow dinner at a fancy restaurant and didn't worry about the thought that the food might be spicy, or possibly had some point had contact with onions or garlic. We drank a whole bottle of wine and didn't have to get up once to put anyone to bed. We wiped no butts and changed no diapers.
We slept in until 9 AM and ate a lingering brunch without having to cut up anyone's French toast or cajole anybody into trying eggs. We didn't button up any coats or strap any carseats. We went to a lovely furniture store and never once uttered the phrase "I told you not to climb on that with your shoes on."
It was beautiful. It was miraculous. And we were thrilled to see the kids again, of course. I think they watched a lot of football, based on their conversations on the way home. James told Owen that he had good news--Bud Light was going to start putting its ingredients on the label. Owen replied that Bud Light was for the many, not the few.
We slept in, shoveled out the driveway, drank lots of coffee, ate a late lunch without anyone complaining about how it was past noon and WHY HADN'T WE EATEN YET? We stayed in a lovely hotel downtown that we didn't have to clean and turned the thermostat up to 75. We watched the entirety of both championship games without ever having to answer any of these questions: "What is the score?" "Who will win the coin toss?" "Who will score next?" "Do you think Nick Foles is better than this quarterback?"
We ate a slow dinner at a fancy restaurant and didn't worry about the thought that the food might be spicy, or possibly had some point had contact with onions or garlic. We drank a whole bottle of wine and didn't have to get up once to put anyone to bed. We wiped no butts and changed no diapers.
We slept in until 9 AM and ate a lingering brunch without having to cut up anyone's French toast or cajole anybody into trying eggs. We didn't button up any coats or strap any carseats. We went to a lovely furniture store and never once uttered the phrase "I told you not to climb on that with your shoes on."
It was beautiful. It was miraculous. And we were thrilled to see the kids again, of course. I think they watched a lot of football, based on their conversations on the way home. James told Owen that he had good news--Bud Light was going to start putting its ingredients on the label. Owen replied that Bud Light was for the many, not the few.
Saturday, January 19, 2019
Championship Predictions
James:
Chiefs 32, Patriots 28
Saints 49, Rams 27
Super Bowl: Saints 47, Chiefs 29
Tom Brady will play for five more years
Julie:
Patriots 34, Chiefs 27
Saints 34, Rams 27
Super Bowl: Saints 42, Patriots 32
Desired matchup: Rams v. Chiefs rematch. (Complete offensive shootout)
Owen:Patriots 82, Chiefs 43
Rams 82, Saints 43
Owen likes the tackle of the Rams, Tennessee.
Super Bowl: Patriots will win, but the Rams are a good team too.
Felix:
Chiefs v. Patriots: "Duck"
Rams v. Saints "Uh-oh"
Me:
Patriots 24, Chiefs 20
Saints 31, Rams 17
Super Bowl: Patriots 38, Saints 20
Neither Brady nor Belichick retires, but Gronkowski does. The Super Bowl officially is boring as long as this Patriots thing is going to keep going on.
jjjjjjjjjjjjiiiiiiiiiiiyujhtgthj765432jkkkkkkjhgfgbbbhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhj
(This is a note from OWEN)
Chiefs 32, Patriots 28
Saints 49, Rams 27
Super Bowl: Saints 47, Chiefs 29
Tom Brady will play for five more years
Julie:
Patriots 34, Chiefs 27
Saints 34, Rams 27
Super Bowl: Saints 42, Patriots 32
Desired matchup: Rams v. Chiefs rematch. (Complete offensive shootout)
Owen:Patriots 82, Chiefs 43
Rams 82, Saints 43
Owen likes the tackle of the Rams, Tennessee.
Super Bowl: Patriots will win, but the Rams are a good team too.
Felix:
Chiefs v. Patriots: "Duck"
Rams v. Saints "Uh-oh"
Me:
Patriots 24, Chiefs 20
Saints 31, Rams 17
Super Bowl: Patriots 38, Saints 20
Neither Brady nor Belichick retires, but Gronkowski does. The Super Bowl officially is boring as long as this Patriots thing is going to keep going on.
jjjjjjjjjjjjiiiiiiiiiiiyujhtgthj765432jkkkkkkjhgfgbbbhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhj
(This is a note from OWEN)
Thursday, January 3, 2019
Limping Into 2019
"The sailors brought in their bones a disease so violent that whoever spoke a word to them was infected and could in no way save himself from death... Those to whom the disease was transmitted by infection of the breath were stricken with pains all over the body and felt a terrible lassitude. There then appeared, on a thigh or an arm, a pustule like a lentil. From this the infection penentrated the body and violent bloody vomiting began. It lasted for a period of three days and there was no way of preventing its ending in death." (Michele di Piazze, 1347)
We, as a family, have not made a particularly impressive entrance into the New Year. James was the first to fall sick with whatever cold/flu/fever/bubonic plague has been working its way through us back a few days before Christmas. (In Calvin and Hobbesian irony, he had to go lay down on the couch as soon as he had finished his last batch of schoolwork before the holiday break.)
I was next, and then Felix and Owen. And now J is huddled up under the covers with the blanket warmer on and a hot toddy in hand, sick of the taste of cough drops, and trying to reclaim some sort of a voice.
We've all dealt with it differently. James was a trooper and basically just asked to be left alone with a blanket and a pillow. He watched about three seasons worth of Eagles highlights on the iPad, took a couple of good naps, and made the quickest recovery.
Owen turns bright red when he gets fevery and his fevers burn HOT. Also, his temper. He was attempting to do LEGOs with Grandpa and had to be forcibly removed from the table, then took a sweaty and deathlike nap with Julie lying next to him to keep him from getting up, and then went right back to the LEGO set, relapsed, and repeated.
Felix is just gross. I've always been disgusted by the term "snot-nosed kid," but that's exactly what he is. It's the sort of term you use for someone else's child, some child you see in the supermarket who inspires no familial loyalty or affection, but only a deep-seated revolt at their animal filthiness. The past couple of days I've immediately gone to "snot-nosed kid" when I've looked at my youngest, despite the family loyalty and affection that ties us together and enables him to treat my wardrobe like his own personal tissue collection.
So, no triumphal entry into the New Year. We didn't stay up to watch the ball drop, and didn't even stay the length of our usual visit to Pennsylvania. We're back home now and watching way more than our usual share of movies. (Sick kids, by the way, are even more emotional than usual. Watching Disney movies can be exhausting with them.) But things are looking up. We have boxes full of generous and thoughtful Christmas gifts to unpack, we're in no hurry to throw out the tree, and it isn't even too snowy out.
Since I've already posted at least part of this list once before I'm going to resist the temptation to break it into a separate blog (hurray for blogging more in 2019!), so I am appending my list of 2019 books read to this cheerful plague song.
Jane and Prudence
We Need to Talk
The Satanic Verses
It Can't Happen Here
Crampton Hodnet
Lucky Jim
Chronicles of a Liquid Society
Montaigne in Barn Boots
The Zookeeper's Wife
The Great Halifax Explosion
Ab Urbe Condita Liber IV
The New Paris
Feel Free
Zone of Interest
Game of Thrones
White Teeth
The Undoing Project
A Clash of Kings
A Storm of Swords
A Feast for Crows
The Pigeon Tunnel
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Dance with Dragons
The Mission Song
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy
The Dinner
Coming Up for Air
Best. State. Ever.
The Sibyl (Lagerkvist)
The Better Angels of Our Nature
The Happiness Hypothesis
Outliers
C.S. Lewis (McGrath)
The Handmaid's Tale
Into Thin Air
What Should We Be Worried About?
Year of No Sugar
The Woman in Cabin 10
A Raisin in the Sun
Being Mortal
The Righteous Mind
Man's Search for Meaning
Jurassic Park
Empire Falls
The Stuff of Thought
The Man in the High Castle
The Billion Dollar Spy
Goodbye, Things
The Seven Storey Mountain
The Good Earth
The Martian
Hidden Figures
Cat's Cradle
The Nightingale
Pirate Latitutdes
Love in the Time of Cholera
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up
Their Eyes Were Watching God
Blood in the Water
Brady vs. Manning
World Without End
Player Piano
Notes From a Small Island
Behave (Sapolsky)
Orchard and Vineyard
Breakfast of Champions
A Column of Fire
Wilfrid Cumbermede
A Shropshire Lad
Barbarian Days
The Well at World's End
Zuleika Dobson
Where Men Win Glory
Missoula
Into the Wild
Grocery
Friendfluence
An American Sickness
We, as a family, have not made a particularly impressive entrance into the New Year. James was the first to fall sick with whatever cold/flu/fever/bubonic plague has been working its way through us back a few days before Christmas. (In Calvin and Hobbesian irony, he had to go lay down on the couch as soon as he had finished his last batch of schoolwork before the holiday break.)
I was next, and then Felix and Owen. And now J is huddled up under the covers with the blanket warmer on and a hot toddy in hand, sick of the taste of cough drops, and trying to reclaim some sort of a voice.
We've all dealt with it differently. James was a trooper and basically just asked to be left alone with a blanket and a pillow. He watched about three seasons worth of Eagles highlights on the iPad, took a couple of good naps, and made the quickest recovery.
Owen turns bright red when he gets fevery and his fevers burn HOT. Also, his temper. He was attempting to do LEGOs with Grandpa and had to be forcibly removed from the table, then took a sweaty and deathlike nap with Julie lying next to him to keep him from getting up, and then went right back to the LEGO set, relapsed, and repeated.
Felix is just gross. I've always been disgusted by the term "snot-nosed kid," but that's exactly what he is. It's the sort of term you use for someone else's child, some child you see in the supermarket who inspires no familial loyalty or affection, but only a deep-seated revolt at their animal filthiness. The past couple of days I've immediately gone to "snot-nosed kid" when I've looked at my youngest, despite the family loyalty and affection that ties us together and enables him to treat my wardrobe like his own personal tissue collection.
So, no triumphal entry into the New Year. We didn't stay up to watch the ball drop, and didn't even stay the length of our usual visit to Pennsylvania. We're back home now and watching way more than our usual share of movies. (Sick kids, by the way, are even more emotional than usual. Watching Disney movies can be exhausting with them.) But things are looking up. We have boxes full of generous and thoughtful Christmas gifts to unpack, we're in no hurry to throw out the tree, and it isn't even too snowy out.
Since I've already posted at least part of this list once before I'm going to resist the temptation to break it into a separate blog (hurray for blogging more in 2019!), so I am appending my list of 2019 books read to this cheerful plague song.
Jane and Prudence
We Need to Talk
The Satanic Verses
It Can't Happen Here
Crampton Hodnet
Lucky Jim
Chronicles of a Liquid Society
Montaigne in Barn Boots
The Zookeeper's Wife
The Great Halifax Explosion
Ab Urbe Condita Liber IV
The New Paris
Feel Free
Zone of Interest
Game of Thrones
White Teeth
The Undoing Project
A Clash of Kings
A Storm of Swords
A Feast for Crows
The Pigeon Tunnel
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Dance with Dragons
The Mission Song
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy
The Dinner
Coming Up for Air
Best. State. Ever.
The Sibyl (Lagerkvist)
The Better Angels of Our Nature
The Happiness Hypothesis
Outliers
C.S. Lewis (McGrath)
The Handmaid's Tale
Into Thin Air
What Should We Be Worried About?
Year of No Sugar
The Woman in Cabin 10
A Raisin in the Sun
Being Mortal
The Righteous Mind
Man's Search for Meaning
Jurassic Park
Empire Falls
The Stuff of Thought
The Man in the High Castle
The Billion Dollar Spy
Goodbye, Things
The Seven Storey Mountain
The Good Earth
The Martian
Hidden Figures
Cat's Cradle
The Nightingale
Pirate Latitutdes
Love in the Time of Cholera
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up
Their Eyes Were Watching God
Blood in the Water
Brady vs. Manning
World Without End
Player Piano
Notes From a Small Island
Behave (Sapolsky)
Orchard and Vineyard
Breakfast of Champions
A Column of Fire
Wilfrid Cumbermede
A Shropshire Lad
Barbarian Days
The Well at World's End
Zuleika Dobson
Where Men Win Glory
Missoula
Into the Wild
Grocery
Friendfluence
An American Sickness
Friday, December 28, 2018
Things I'll Forget
Felix had a haircut this week, because he couldn't see past his bangs. I won't remember about it at all unless I write it down, as is evidenced by my look past through blogs from two or three years ago. All the little details of the kids changing and growing up get swallowed up in an exhausted haze of daily commutes, laundry-folding, dish-washing, practicing in the basement, and trying to tick through long to-do lists.
As is apparently my tradition this time of year, I want to do a better job blogging. Not just because it's good for me to write, or because it stokes my vanity to know that people are reading and enjoying my writing, but because I am in very real danger of completely forgetting huge stretches of the kids' growing up if I don't make some kind of record of it.
For example, Owen broke James' glasses twice. (Both times on purpose) Last week we ran them back up to the eye place (which we love) and they straightened some bent plastic. Last night he snapped the other side clean off, so they are currently taped together. We need to get it done before the 31st, or else the new insurance won't cover it.
Felix is doing what James used to do when it was time for a bottle. ("Ba-ba," in his own words.) He camps out by the oven (where we set a five minute timer) swaying and sucking his fingers and making counting motions, and then when the timer sound goes off he FREAKS OUT. He jumps up and down in your arms or dances around, and then points wildly at the bottle with jabbing motions, just in case there is any chance that you'll forget about it.
Owen has turned everything into gymnastics. Jumping down from the minivan into a parking lot or garage? And opportunity to practice straddle jumps. Looking at someone's putt-putt golf set? It's a balance beam and a chance to practice a handstand. On the couch? Get upside down and get his feet up. The child has to move harder and faster every day than our space and pace allow, so we've even taken to letting him run on the treadmill. (And amazingly, once he's done so, he's much less likely to hurdle his baby brother or break James' glasses.)
This was the year of the strangely decorated tree. Our tree never looks picturesque--we make no effort at coordinating our ornaments, and even the tree shape itself is sometimes odd. (I always let the boys pick it out from the Agway at the bottom of bay on Empire Blvd.) Then, of course, James and Owen tend to cluster their ornaments together in places that they can reach conveniently as we decorate. This year, though, Felix was mobile. And that meant that each ornament that was within his reaching distance eventually made its way onto the floor or into his mouth, and then was retrieved and migrated to a much higher and safer spot somewhere near the top of the tree. By the second week of December the bottom two feet of the tree were bare and the top branches were completely packed with ornaments doubled and tripled up per space.
Owen is having toilet accidents regularly...because if he's doing anything even remotely interesting he waits until he is in a state of absolute can't-hold-it-any-longer crisis until he finally gets up to run to the bathroom. Unless it is naptime. When he's bored and stuck in his room, he needs to go to the bathroom about once every fifteen minutes. (Slamming the door to his room and the bathroom each time.)
James doesn't want me to look at him or smile at him or listen to him while he's singing in junior choir. And he doesn't want to see his junior choir director (who he admits he likes) in any context except for immediately after church while I am not there. I remember very strongly (and J says she does as well) being a kid and feeling like there were some things that I enjoyed doing and I knew my parents wanted me to do, but that I DID NOT want them to know I actually liked. I have no idea why he feels that way, but junior choir is apparently forbidden for any involvement from us.
Final shameless self-interested bit--if you've read this far you were probably at Smithmas at the Lake House and are directly related to me. We apparently came back without my favorite sweater. (Gray and black, J Crew, size S) If anyone happens to know where it is, I would love to have it back.
Last of all, the thing that I can't wait to forget--the stuffed animal dogs that all three boys found in their stocking that sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."
As is apparently my tradition this time of year, I want to do a better job blogging. Not just because it's good for me to write, or because it stokes my vanity to know that people are reading and enjoying my writing, but because I am in very real danger of completely forgetting huge stretches of the kids' growing up if I don't make some kind of record of it.
For example, Owen broke James' glasses twice. (Both times on purpose) Last week we ran them back up to the eye place (which we love) and they straightened some bent plastic. Last night he snapped the other side clean off, so they are currently taped together. We need to get it done before the 31st, or else the new insurance won't cover it.
Felix is doing what James used to do when it was time for a bottle. ("Ba-ba," in his own words.) He camps out by the oven (where we set a five minute timer) swaying and sucking his fingers and making counting motions, and then when the timer sound goes off he FREAKS OUT. He jumps up and down in your arms or dances around, and then points wildly at the bottle with jabbing motions, just in case there is any chance that you'll forget about it.
Owen has turned everything into gymnastics. Jumping down from the minivan into a parking lot or garage? And opportunity to practice straddle jumps. Looking at someone's putt-putt golf set? It's a balance beam and a chance to practice a handstand. On the couch? Get upside down and get his feet up. The child has to move harder and faster every day than our space and pace allow, so we've even taken to letting him run on the treadmill. (And amazingly, once he's done so, he's much less likely to hurdle his baby brother or break James' glasses.)
This was the year of the strangely decorated tree. Our tree never looks picturesque--we make no effort at coordinating our ornaments, and even the tree shape itself is sometimes odd. (I always let the boys pick it out from the Agway at the bottom of bay on Empire Blvd.) Then, of course, James and Owen tend to cluster their ornaments together in places that they can reach conveniently as we decorate. This year, though, Felix was mobile. And that meant that each ornament that was within his reaching distance eventually made its way onto the floor or into his mouth, and then was retrieved and migrated to a much higher and safer spot somewhere near the top of the tree. By the second week of December the bottom two feet of the tree were bare and the top branches were completely packed with ornaments doubled and tripled up per space.
Owen is having toilet accidents regularly...because if he's doing anything even remotely interesting he waits until he is in a state of absolute can't-hold-it-any-longer crisis until he finally gets up to run to the bathroom. Unless it is naptime. When he's bored and stuck in his room, he needs to go to the bathroom about once every fifteen minutes. (Slamming the door to his room and the bathroom each time.)
James doesn't want me to look at him or smile at him or listen to him while he's singing in junior choir. And he doesn't want to see his junior choir director (who he admits he likes) in any context except for immediately after church while I am not there. I remember very strongly (and J says she does as well) being a kid and feeling like there were some things that I enjoyed doing and I knew my parents wanted me to do, but that I DID NOT want them to know I actually liked. I have no idea why he feels that way, but junior choir is apparently forbidden for any involvement from us.
Final shameless self-interested bit--if you've read this far you were probably at Smithmas at the Lake House and are directly related to me. We apparently came back without my favorite sweater. (Gray and black, J Crew, size S) If anyone happens to know where it is, I would love to have it back.
Last of all, the thing that I can't wait to forget--the stuffed animal dogs that all three boys found in their stocking that sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."
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