The youngest had his 18 month check-up today and things went okay for the most part. (There was a small issue that makes me glad that this was our last visit to this doctor's office, but . . . no need to go into that now.) He let the doctor check his ears, lungs, heart, tummy, groin, etc. without fussing, but he ended up needing three immunizations.
Of course he cried, but something else happened that I wasn't expecting. The oldest, who was there with us, became very upset seeing his brother get shots and cry. He started crying and said, "Don't poke my brother!" Then as the nurse was leaving, and he was still crying, he got angry and wanted to go find the doctor so that he could "shoot her for poking [his] baby." I tried explaining that sometimes it is better to get a poke then to get really sick, but for the next little while he described the various injuries he wanted to inflict on the doctor for poking his baby: shoot, punch, hit, kick, punch, strike, etc.
I let him talk through it all and then asked him how his little brother was doing (both were sitting in their car seats in the rear seat).
Oldest brother: He is fine.
Mama: He's not crying?
OB: No.
M: See, even though he got poked, he feels better, and now he won't get super sick.
That finally calmed him down, but when my husband got home, the oldest had to tell his papi that his baby got poked.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Dinosaur PJs
Since our oldest got into dinosaurs a few months back, we picked up some dinosaur pjs for him at some consignment sales. Two pair were the originals: both greenish with a variety of brownish-green dinosaurs all over the pjs. Then this spring I found another pair--and not too soon, I thought--because the originals were wearing thin and had a perpetual greyish look.
Then something happened: our oldest became obsessed with the original dinosaur pjs, and only those ones. He would wear them all day long, if at home, and only get out of them under protest. Since he played in the sandbox and ate in them and wipes his nose on them (I know, but I have to pick my battles somehow), I figured he could only get two nights out of them. Then they needed to be washed. But the oldest REFUSES to wear anything else. Not the blue dinosaur pjs, not the submarine or rocket ship pjs, not the baseball or whale pjs, only the green dinosaur pjs. So tonight, he went to bed without brushing his teeth, going potty, or getting dressed. He is wearing Cars underwear and that is it. I hope I can slip something onto him later in the night.
All I know is that when he and his younger brother are asleep, I'll sneek in and get a load of laundry so that the cursed dinosaur pjs will be clean for tomorrow.
Then something happened: our oldest became obsessed with the original dinosaur pjs, and only those ones. He would wear them all day long, if at home, and only get out of them under protest. Since he played in the sandbox and ate in them and wipes his nose on them (I know, but I have to pick my battles somehow), I figured he could only get two nights out of them. Then they needed to be washed. But the oldest REFUSES to wear anything else. Not the blue dinosaur pjs, not the submarine or rocket ship pjs, not the baseball or whale pjs, only the green dinosaur pjs. So tonight, he went to bed without brushing his teeth, going potty, or getting dressed. He is wearing Cars underwear and that is it. I hope I can slip something onto him later in the night.
All I know is that when he and his younger brother are asleep, I'll sneek in and get a load of laundry so that the cursed dinosaur pjs will be clean for tomorrow.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
"He likes it!"
I didn't need to worry about the youngest's reaction to his finished quilt. He liked it.
And here are the boy's quilts side by side. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.
And here are the boy's quilts side by side. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. A Backpack and a Boy
The youngest is convinced that he is a big kid. He wants to do things himself (until he has his feelings hurt or something like that) and plays with his big brother at everything. The other day we were preparing to run an errand and his older brother had pulled out his backpack. The youngest was in heaven. He tried putting the backpack on himself . . .
. . . then I helped him get the backpack on correctly, and he grabbed his father's hat . . .
. . . and he was ready to go.
. . . then I helped him get the backpack on correctly, and he grabbed his father's hat . . .
. . . and he was ready to go.Since then, though, he has been going crazy with the backpack and anything else he thinks he can put on himself.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Catching up on life
Okay, you would think that in a few short weeks (think two) too little would have occurred to justify a "catching up" post, but think again.
March 30, my dear husband successfully defended his dissertation. Their were oodles and oodles of compliments and, thanks to some wonderful friends, I was able to hear them all.
April 1, my dear husband turns in said dissertation and is all ready to graduate.
April 2, after a day of babysitting, I get a wonderful, beautiful, amazing, heirloom crocheted tablecloth from my mom for my birthday (which is this same day). When my oldest was reminded that it was my birthday, he tells me, "Mama, I need to make you a birthday cake." So he does: sand cakes in mini pie tins abound all day long. He also helps (with one of the babysittees) make the birthday cake. My dear husband buys me flowers. I get to talk with my siblings. And my great in-laws surprised me with a wonderful gift (which I am still deciding). All in all, turning 33 isn't that bad--especially since I've been convinced I was 33 for months.
April 3, we decide on a realtor and have the first discussion with a loan officer. We also find out that we're getting paid more this summer for teaching because my husband will have graduated.
April 4, we get to go to church together (I know it seems a little odd, but for the past three months I've only been able to go to church with my husband sporadically because of his church assignment.)
April 5, we make dinosaur cookies for my dad's birthday. Isn't he lucky?!
April 7, my husband takes the boys to Delta's airplane museum for the oldest's preschool field trip so that I can work all day on my prospectus. I come home with dinner on the table.
April 8, my husband takes off with the scouts for Okefenokee Swap--alligator swamp--the initial reports indicate no alligators were causing problems.
April 9, the boys are troopers as we go to the zoo, the fabric store, the park, and a birthday party.
April 10, the boys and I arrive at church at 8:05 for our cleaning assignment, then choir practice (9:00) and then an ensemble practice (10:30). We have to do a little bit of cleaning after all the practices because our snacks were crumbly, so we get home at 11:30. A black eye, received at the Delta Museum when he inadvertently bonked into something, is clearly apparent. I finish one crib sheet for my sister's soon-to-be-born baby and have the other partly ready. My husband should arrive home soon.
The oldest sings songs and makes up stories. The youngest torments his older brother. Both are crazy for dinosaurs, trains, and trucks. All in all we're doing great.
I'll try uploading pictures and such soon.
March 30, my dear husband successfully defended his dissertation. Their were oodles and oodles of compliments and, thanks to some wonderful friends, I was able to hear them all.
April 1, my dear husband turns in said dissertation and is all ready to graduate.
April 2, after a day of babysitting, I get a wonderful, beautiful, amazing, heirloom crocheted tablecloth from my mom for my birthday (which is this same day). When my oldest was reminded that it was my birthday, he tells me, "Mama, I need to make you a birthday cake." So he does: sand cakes in mini pie tins abound all day long. He also helps (with one of the babysittees) make the birthday cake. My dear husband buys me flowers. I get to talk with my siblings. And my great in-laws surprised me with a wonderful gift (which I am still deciding). All in all, turning 33 isn't that bad--especially since I've been convinced I was 33 for months.
April 3, we decide on a realtor and have the first discussion with a loan officer. We also find out that we're getting paid more this summer for teaching because my husband will have graduated.
April 4, we get to go to church together (I know it seems a little odd, but for the past three months I've only been able to go to church with my husband sporadically because of his church assignment.)
April 5, we make dinosaur cookies for my dad's birthday. Isn't he lucky?!
April 7, my husband takes the boys to Delta's airplane museum for the oldest's preschool field trip so that I can work all day on my prospectus. I come home with dinner on the table.
April 8, my husband takes off with the scouts for Okefenokee Swap--alligator swamp--the initial reports indicate no alligators were causing problems.
April 9, the boys are troopers as we go to the zoo, the fabric store, the park, and a birthday party.
April 10, the boys and I arrive at church at 8:05 for our cleaning assignment, then choir practice (9:00) and then an ensemble practice (10:30). We have to do a little bit of cleaning after all the practices because our snacks were crumbly, so we get home at 11:30. A black eye, received at the Delta Museum when he inadvertently bonked into something, is clearly apparent. I finish one crib sheet for my sister's soon-to-be-born baby and have the other partly ready. My husband should arrive home soon.
The oldest sings songs and makes up stories. The youngest torments his older brother. Both are crazy for dinosaurs, trains, and trucks. All in all we're doing great.
I'll try uploading pictures and such soon.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
My Brithday
I thought I would share some pictures from my birthday, including the amazing tablecloth from my mom.
The youngest signing "more"--guess he liked the cake.
See what I mean; isn't this amazing!
When I woke up in the morning and my husband told the oldest that it was my birthday, the oldest said, "Mama, I need to make you a birthday cake." He certainly did help: making the cake and putting on candles and singing.
The youngest signing "more"--guess he liked the cake.
See what I mean; isn't this amazing!
When I woke up in the morning and my husband told the oldest that it was my birthday, the oldest said, "Mama, I need to make you a birthday cake." He certainly did help: making the cake and putting on candles and singing.
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