Lately, our house sounds like a trade show for cheap hearing aids.
I've had not-so-great hearing for a while now, probably the result of dancing near the speakers in my days of raves and clubbing. Adrian has told me many times...
A: You need to get your hearing checked."
J: What?
A: I said you need to get your hearing checked!
J: Oh, yeah.
I've yet to do so.
Oo has begun to ask "What?" as often as I do. A trip to the pediatrician yesterday revealed that, due to her recent cold, she has fluid in both ears and one ear is infected. The doc said that it could be 4-6 weeks before the fluid drains out and her hearing is back to normal.
Mynah bird that he is, T has begun repeating "What?" whenever he hears it.
J: Hey Oo, what do you want to eat?
O: What? Who's in the street?
J: What?
O: What?
T: What, what? What? What?
A: You seriously need to get your hearing checked.
J: What? Oh... yeah.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Mom! She's touching me!
The other day, Adrian asked me to email him a cute, recent picture of the kids together. Problem was, we didn't have a recent one that I would consider cute, not a one. The last decent picture of the two together was last Christmas. In just about every picture we take of the two of them, T is squirming or running to get away from Oo. (Go back to the pic from this Halloween, and you'll see what I mean.)
I think we're doing a pretty good job fostering some sibling love between the kids. Sure there's the occasional (okay, daily) smack or kick, but only because the "hittee" is getting getting too close to the "hitter."
T is usually the hitter. Oo is so infatuated with babies and younger kids that she just can't leave them alone. In her own lovey way, she is always in T's face -- trying to get him to laugh or say new words. She is forever holding his hand and hugging him.
And T responds to this by trying to swat her away. I can't say I blame him. I'd get pretty annoyed too if someone's hugs were forever knocking me to the ground. We explain to Oo that when he's a little older and has better balance, he'll love and return her hugs.
And I don't think a sibling utopia is entirely impossible. It's too early to tell. But we are already seeing signs of T's loving feelings towards his sister. For example, when she's crying he'll come close to investigate, with a concerned look on his face. And when she's not around, he'll repeatedly ask, "Where Uh-na go?"
And so, Adrian's request sent me on a photographic mission. Armed with my camera always nearby, I've been stalking the kids' every move. And I'm proud to declare: Success!
Here's a pic of Oo and T holding hands. Truth be told told, T was too sick that day to muster up a squirm. But look at the delight on Oo's face!
In this pic, T is trying to help Oo finish her soup. Oo didn't really want to eat lunch, but she loved being fed by her little brother.
In this pic, the kids are playing in a dining room table fort. For the most part, T would only sit inside the fort when Oo was elsewhere. But here I managed to catch them side by side. See, T? It's not so bad!
Whether these are signs of lovey times ahead, or just luck that I got some pics before T ran away, I'll let you be the judge. As for Adrian and me, we're still striving for that utopia.
I think we're doing a pretty good job fostering some sibling love between the kids. Sure there's the occasional (okay, daily) smack or kick, but only because the "hittee" is getting getting too close to the "hitter."
T is usually the hitter. Oo is so infatuated with babies and younger kids that she just can't leave them alone. In her own lovey way, she is always in T's face -- trying to get him to laugh or say new words. She is forever holding his hand and hugging him.
And T responds to this by trying to swat her away. I can't say I blame him. I'd get pretty annoyed too if someone's hugs were forever knocking me to the ground. We explain to Oo that when he's a little older and has better balance, he'll love and return her hugs.
And I don't think a sibling utopia is entirely impossible. It's too early to tell. But we are already seeing signs of T's loving feelings towards his sister. For example, when she's crying he'll come close to investigate, with a concerned look on his face. And when she's not around, he'll repeatedly ask, "Where Uh-na go?"
And so, Adrian's request sent me on a photographic mission. Armed with my camera always nearby, I've been stalking the kids' every move. And I'm proud to declare: Success!
Here's a pic of Oo and T holding hands. Truth be told told, T was too sick that day to muster up a squirm. But look at the delight on Oo's face!
In this pic, T is trying to help Oo finish her soup. Oo didn't really want to eat lunch, but she loved being fed by her little brother.
In this pic, the kids are playing in a dining room table fort. For the most part, T would only sit inside the fort when Oo was elsewhere. But here I managed to catch them side by side. See, T? It's not so bad!
Whether these are signs of lovey times ahead, or just luck that I got some pics before T ran away, I'll let you be the judge. As for Adrian and me, we're still striving for that utopia.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Pajama Day
Note: Don't get too excited a new blog entry is here. This entry contains no pictures and nothing cute nor funny. It's just an update.
Last night (Sunday), as Adrian was serving the lasagna he made for dinner, I realized he was STILL in his PJs from the night before. Oh wait... so was I. I looked at the kids in the dining room... yup, PJs and PJs. None of us had gotten dressed all day. It wasn't a conscious decision to have a luxurious, lounging kind of day. It was purely that no one had the energy to bother with getting dressed.
It had been a rough week in our house. Here's a detail-lacking synopsis:
MONDAY
Nothing planned; just laundry. Kids' noses have been a little runny for 3 days -- ah yes, Fall weather is finally here. Adrian's not thrilled about going to work -- economy is really rearing its ugly head in trucking industry. I get a call -- my client needs an estimate for proofreading a website. Big job -- Suh-WEET!
TUESDAY
I'm awarded the website proofing job. I'm told not to start working on it until after 4pm. Project will take many days. Kids play together while I scramble to clean. Housework piles up when I have big proofing projects.
WEDNESDAY
Grandma watches kids while I go to doc appointment. Not a fun visit w/the doc, but I get 3 web pages proofed while in the waiting room. Won't get to proof again until kids go to bed. T has a little throat congestion -- cute little raspy voice. Adrian has business meeting at 11PM (seriously) with his client's 3rd shift drivers. T wakes up around 11PM w/ a barking cough and bloody spit. Hospital? Gotta wait for Adrian to get home. T perks up by then. No hospital visit needed -- whew! Also no sleep for us... T wakes every hour coughing/crying. Adrian tries to soothe T all night, while I work all night to finish proofing the first section of the website... the section that is due Thursday 8AM.
THURSDAY
Oo's rested and energetic; the rest of us are dragging our tails. Grandma watches kids in the morning while I go to a different appointment. After lunch, Oo and I take T to his doctor. The doc and some x-rays inform us: croup, ear infection, and slight viral infection in his lungs. Poor little guy! Adrian cancels tonight's client dinner. He puts kids to bed alone, while I start to tackle the next part of the proofing project.
FRIDAY
Adrian uses a vacation day. He and I switch roles -- he and T take Oo to school; I work during daylight hours. Kids are totally confused by this and become quite cranky. They stay cranky all weekend.
SATURDAY
More of the same, but now Oo's runny nose is becoming something more -- her voice sounds "crooked," as she would say. I proof most of the day. Adrian and I enjoy dinner out with friends, T zonks out early, Oo enjoys visiting w/ her favorite neighborhood babysitter.
SUNDAY
I work on the website all day (and then all night). Adrian watches kids, who are obviously miserably sick. This time, the kids switch roles -- T demands and complains all day; Oo is quiet and mellow (actually, more like "zoned out").
TODAY, MONDAY
T shows signs of getting better; Oo has a headache and fever all day. Adrian trudges off to work after an exhausting weekend with crabby kids. Nothing planned here; just laundry. Then I get word that another big proofing project will come our way this week...
Last night (Sunday), as Adrian was serving the lasagna he made for dinner, I realized he was STILL in his PJs from the night before. Oh wait... so was I. I looked at the kids in the dining room... yup, PJs and PJs. None of us had gotten dressed all day. It wasn't a conscious decision to have a luxurious, lounging kind of day. It was purely that no one had the energy to bother with getting dressed.
It had been a rough week in our house. Here's a detail-lacking synopsis:
MONDAY
Nothing planned; just laundry. Kids' noses have been a little runny for 3 days -- ah yes, Fall weather is finally here. Adrian's not thrilled about going to work -- economy is really rearing its ugly head in trucking industry. I get a call -- my client needs an estimate for proofreading a website. Big job -- Suh-WEET!
TUESDAY
I'm awarded the website proofing job. I'm told not to start working on it until after 4pm. Project will take many days. Kids play together while I scramble to clean. Housework piles up when I have big proofing projects.
WEDNESDAY
Grandma watches kids while I go to doc appointment. Not a fun visit w/the doc, but I get 3 web pages proofed while in the waiting room. Won't get to proof again until kids go to bed. T has a little throat congestion -- cute little raspy voice. Adrian has business meeting at 11PM (seriously) with his client's 3rd shift drivers. T wakes up around 11PM w/ a barking cough and bloody spit. Hospital? Gotta wait for Adrian to get home. T perks up by then. No hospital visit needed -- whew! Also no sleep for us... T wakes every hour coughing/crying. Adrian tries to soothe T all night, while I work all night to finish proofing the first section of the website... the section that is due Thursday 8AM.
THURSDAY
Oo's rested and energetic; the rest of us are dragging our tails. Grandma watches kids in the morning while I go to a different appointment. After lunch, Oo and I take T to his doctor. The doc and some x-rays inform us: croup, ear infection, and slight viral infection in his lungs. Poor little guy! Adrian cancels tonight's client dinner. He puts kids to bed alone, while I start to tackle the next part of the proofing project.
FRIDAY
Adrian uses a vacation day. He and I switch roles -- he and T take Oo to school; I work during daylight hours. Kids are totally confused by this and become quite cranky. They stay cranky all weekend.
SATURDAY
More of the same, but now Oo's runny nose is becoming something more -- her voice sounds "crooked," as she would say. I proof most of the day. Adrian and I enjoy dinner out with friends, T zonks out early, Oo enjoys visiting w/ her favorite neighborhood babysitter.
SUNDAY
I work on the website all day (and then all night). Adrian watches kids, who are obviously miserably sick. This time, the kids switch roles -- T demands and complains all day; Oo is quiet and mellow (actually, more like "zoned out").
TODAY, MONDAY
T shows signs of getting better; Oo has a headache and fever all day. Adrian trudges off to work after an exhausting weekend with crabby kids. Nothing planned here; just laundry. Then I get word that another big proofing project will come our way this week...
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Lessons in Politics
On Monday at the dinner table, A and I were talking about our Election Day schedules.
J: When are you going to vote tomorrow?
A: Before work. Are you taking the kids with you to the polls?
Oo: Ooooo, I want to go to the pool! Me! Me! Me!
Yikes! And thus began our first political conversation with a 3-year-old. We had to lower her expectations -- from splashing around in water to standing in a long line. She asked a bunch of questions -- most of the "Why?" And we soon found ourselves talking, in the simplest terms, about voting and the election.
Oo: I'm scared! I don't want to go to the election!
A & I: Why?
Oo: I don't want them to pick me!
So then we had to explain (again in simple terms) the candidates and our right (and duty) to vote for the one who will do the best job.
Oo: But I'm scared! I don't know who to pick!
And so on and so on. Eventually, it boiled down to this:
A: If you're good standing in line tomorrow, Mommy will buy you a donut.
Tuesday morning I got the kids moving early. I didn't want to miss voting, knowing there was a chance that -- donut or no donut -- Oo was going to refuse to cooperate. We got there without any fuss, but I brought many provisions just in case. Juice boxes, cookies, suckers, crackers and books surrounded the kids in the wagon. I even brought the portable DVD player, should the line be horrendously long. Oo wanted to bring her camera in with her to take pictures; so then we had to have a conversation about privacy.
Fortunately (but oddly) there was no wait at all. Armed with my cheat sheet, I tried to vote as quickly as possible. But it wasn't quick enough for T. Belted in the wagon seat, he began to squawk, "Walk! Walk!" The white-haired woman filling out her ballot next to me tsk'd and muttered under her breath, clearly annoyed that I had my kids with me. But Oo came to the rescue... She climbed out of the wagon and began to push it around to keep T quiet.
As we left the polls, Oo was proud to have earned a donut, and she was anxious to know who had won the election.
J: Hopefully, a good guy will win.
Oo: Where is the good guy? I didn't meet him yet. Is he in Ohio?
J: I don't know where he is right now, but when he's elected he'll move into the White House in Washington DC.
After many more questions -- most of them "Why?" -- and after me trying to explain things using simple and non-partisan language (truly, Dad, I swear it!), we netted out here:
Oo: Why is there a bad guy in the lighthouse? Maybe when the bad guy moves out and the nice guy moves in, we can go to the beach!
And since I'm showing Election Day pics, here is the charming T sporting his voting sticker:
J: When are you going to vote tomorrow?
A: Before work. Are you taking the kids with you to the polls?
Oo: Ooooo, I want to go to the pool! Me! Me! Me!
Yikes! And thus began our first political conversation with a 3-year-old. We had to lower her expectations -- from splashing around in water to standing in a long line. She asked a bunch of questions -- most of the "Why?" And we soon found ourselves talking, in the simplest terms, about voting and the election.
Oo: I'm scared! I don't want to go to the election!
A & I: Why?
Oo: I don't want them to pick me!
So then we had to explain (again in simple terms) the candidates and our right (and duty) to vote for the one who will do the best job.
Oo: But I'm scared! I don't know who to pick!
And so on and so on. Eventually, it boiled down to this:
A: If you're good standing in line tomorrow, Mommy will buy you a donut.
Tuesday morning I got the kids moving early. I didn't want to miss voting, knowing there was a chance that -- donut or no donut -- Oo was going to refuse to cooperate. We got there without any fuss, but I brought many provisions just in case. Juice boxes, cookies, suckers, crackers and books surrounded the kids in the wagon. I even brought the portable DVD player, should the line be horrendously long. Oo wanted to bring her camera in with her to take pictures; so then we had to have a conversation about privacy.
Fortunately (but oddly) there was no wait at all. Armed with my cheat sheet, I tried to vote as quickly as possible. But it wasn't quick enough for T. Belted in the wagon seat, he began to squawk, "Walk! Walk!" The white-haired woman filling out her ballot next to me tsk'd and muttered under her breath, clearly annoyed that I had my kids with me. But Oo came to the rescue... She climbed out of the wagon and began to push it around to keep T quiet.
As we left the polls, Oo was proud to have earned a donut, and she was anxious to know who had won the election.
J: Hopefully, a good guy will win.
Oo: Where is the good guy? I didn't meet him yet. Is he in Ohio?
J: I don't know where he is right now, but when he's elected he'll move into the White House in Washington DC.
After many more questions -- most of them "Why?" -- and after me trying to explain things using simple and non-partisan language (truly, Dad, I swear it!), we netted out here:
Oo: Why is there a bad guy in the lighthouse? Maybe when the bad guy moves out and the nice guy moves in, we can go to the beach!
And since I'm showing Election Day pics, here is the charming T sporting his voting sticker:
Monday, November 3, 2008
Tricks With Treats
Ah, Halloween! This was the first year that Oo was old enough to care what she'd wear. On her 1st Halloween, she was a lamb. On her 2nd Halloween, she was the same size so she was the same lamb. By her 3rd Halloween she'd finally grown out of the lamb costume. She dressed as a lion, and T wore the lamb costume. The lion and the lamb... we didn't plan it that way, but it sure was cute. No one fit into the lamb suit this year.
Back in August, Oo started dreaming about this year's costume. She wanted to be a cowgirl... no, a T-rex... no, a robot. It wasn't until mid-October that she decided she definitely wanted to be a T-rex. (I'm sure the lizard mask she'd recently played with had a lot to do with her final decision.)
So we began our quest for a dinosaur costume. A and Oo went to two Halloween stores, but she said she was too scared of the spooky stuff to shop any further. So I went alone to shop for a costume. Low and behold, I found a dinosaur costume, and it was on sale. Bonus! It was the one and only dinosaur costume we had seen anywhere, and it just happened to be her size. Double bonus! I brought it home and hid it in a closet, to keep her from wearing it to shreds before Halloween night.
And now for T's costume. One night as T took a bath, I amused myself by styling his foamy, shampoo-y hair. I gave him a shampoo mohawk, and A loved it. It was then that I thought of dressing T as a punk rocker for Halloween. He had a couple bad-ass toddler t-shirts (courtesy of my sister) that would look great layered over a long-sleeved shirt, and we already had a dog collar (also from my sister). All I needed to make the punk ensemble complete was a pair of plaid pants. "No problem," I thought. Stores were already stocking the Christmas items. I was sure I could find some red plaid pants (which would later double as half of a snazzy outfit for Christmas).
Okay, problem... yeah, the store's racks were filling up with Christmas clothes, but only frilly dresses. There were no holiday clothes for boys to be found. Ixnay the unkpay. Fortunately, two days before Halloween, I found a little red sweat suit, complete with devil horns and a tail. And it was on sale for only $2.50. Super duper bonus! (Sometimes it does pay to do things at the last minute.)
On Halloween night, with A manning the porch and candy bowl, the kids and I started to make our rounds. Oo kept sprinting ahead of me -- too excited to stay by my side -- and T was happily riding in the wagon behind me. I was exited too. Excited to show off my little T-rex and devil. Excited to watch Oo ham it up for the neighbors with her growling, stomping and showing her claws. And excited to watch T's reaction to a candy treat or two. (He doesn't get candy at home.)
And then the tricks began. Oo totally clammed up. Shyness? Stage fright? I'm not sure, but she wouldn't say anything to our neighbors -- not "trick or treat," not "thank you," not even one growl. Here's the girl who talks non-stop all day, who tells her life story to everyone she meets. [Sigh.] Oh well, I couldn't coax her. Rebel that she is, coaxing would only make her clam up even more and maybe use her own make-believe sign language with me.
As for T, I unwrapped the first long tootsie roll we got and place it in his warm little fist. He studied it quietly, his arm and hand held completely steady. He did not move it in for a taste or a closer look. He held it perfectly still in his wagon, as if posing for a painted portraiture.
About half-way around our block, I noticed the tip of the tootsie roll was slobbery, yet his arm was held in the same position as before. I'd missed seeing him take a taste; I'd missed seeing his reaction. Did he like it? Did he smile? Would he taste it again?
At each house, I would bend down next to him to help Oo put T's share of the candy in his bag, and occasionally I studied the slobbery tootsie roll. We visited several more houses before I noticed a tiny nibble taken out of the top. But I never did see him put the candy to his lips. By the time we got home, the tootsie roll was gone. "He must've liked it," I thought.
Oo and I joined A on our front steps and helped to hand out candy. T was content to sit still in the wagon. He was moving around now -- reaching into his treat bag, pulling candies out one at a time and dropping them onto the ground. His bag was nearly empty. "So he didN'T like it," I thought, picturing the tootsie roll discarded somewhere in a pile of leaves.
Later that night, I found the tootsie roll. It was tucked inside my blazer pocket, in all its sticky, slobbery glory. How nice of him to share.
Back in August, Oo started dreaming about this year's costume. She wanted to be a cowgirl... no, a T-rex... no, a robot. It wasn't until mid-October that she decided she definitely wanted to be a T-rex. (I'm sure the lizard mask she'd recently played with had a lot to do with her final decision.)
So we began our quest for a dinosaur costume. A and Oo went to two Halloween stores, but she said she was too scared of the spooky stuff to shop any further. So I went alone to shop for a costume. Low and behold, I found a dinosaur costume, and it was on sale. Bonus! It was the one and only dinosaur costume we had seen anywhere, and it just happened to be her size. Double bonus! I brought it home and hid it in a closet, to keep her from wearing it to shreds before Halloween night.
And now for T's costume. One night as T took a bath, I amused myself by styling his foamy, shampoo-y hair. I gave him a shampoo mohawk, and A loved it. It was then that I thought of dressing T as a punk rocker for Halloween. He had a couple bad-ass toddler t-shirts (courtesy of my sister) that would look great layered over a long-sleeved shirt, and we already had a dog collar (also from my sister). All I needed to make the punk ensemble complete was a pair of plaid pants. "No problem," I thought. Stores were already stocking the Christmas items. I was sure I could find some red plaid pants (which would later double as half of a snazzy outfit for Christmas).
Okay, problem... yeah, the store's racks were filling up with Christmas clothes, but only frilly dresses. There were no holiday clothes for boys to be found. Ixnay the unkpay. Fortunately, two days before Halloween, I found a little red sweat suit, complete with devil horns and a tail. And it was on sale for only $2.50. Super duper bonus! (Sometimes it does pay to do things at the last minute.)
On Halloween night, with A manning the porch and candy bowl, the kids and I started to make our rounds. Oo kept sprinting ahead of me -- too excited to stay by my side -- and T was happily riding in the wagon behind me. I was exited too. Excited to show off my little T-rex and devil. Excited to watch Oo ham it up for the neighbors with her growling, stomping and showing her claws. And excited to watch T's reaction to a candy treat or two. (He doesn't get candy at home.)
And then the tricks began. Oo totally clammed up. Shyness? Stage fright? I'm not sure, but she wouldn't say anything to our neighbors -- not "trick or treat," not "thank you," not even one growl. Here's the girl who talks non-stop all day, who tells her life story to everyone she meets. [Sigh.] Oh well, I couldn't coax her. Rebel that she is, coaxing would only make her clam up even more and maybe use her own make-believe sign language with me.
As for T, I unwrapped the first long tootsie roll we got and place it in his warm little fist. He studied it quietly, his arm and hand held completely steady. He did not move it in for a taste or a closer look. He held it perfectly still in his wagon, as if posing for a painted portraiture.
About half-way around our block, I noticed the tip of the tootsie roll was slobbery, yet his arm was held in the same position as before. I'd missed seeing him take a taste; I'd missed seeing his reaction. Did he like it? Did he smile? Would he taste it again?
At each house, I would bend down next to him to help Oo put T's share of the candy in his bag, and occasionally I studied the slobbery tootsie roll. We visited several more houses before I noticed a tiny nibble taken out of the top. But I never did see him put the candy to his lips. By the time we got home, the tootsie roll was gone. "He must've liked it," I thought.
Oo and I joined A on our front steps and helped to hand out candy. T was content to sit still in the wagon. He was moving around now -- reaching into his treat bag, pulling candies out one at a time and dropping them onto the ground. His bag was nearly empty. "So he didN'T like it," I thought, picturing the tootsie roll discarded somewhere in a pile of leaves.
Later that night, I found the tootsie roll. It was tucked inside my blazer pocket, in all its sticky, slobbery glory. How nice of him to share.
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