Are You Kidding?

I must be the most negligent mother on the planet. My children have had more accidents and illnesses in the last few months than anyone I have ever met. Today, Meg split her chin open. In all honesty, I had a little something to do with it. Here's how it went down:

Megans bumper pad from her crib has been laying on the couch since The Night of Vomit. Washed, of course, and waiting to be stitched where it tore in the wash. She started playing with it. At some point, I thought it would be funny for her if I wrapped her up in it like a burrito. So I did, arms and all. As soon as I tied it off so it would stay on, I thought, "This is a bad idea. She could fall and she wouldn't be able to catch herself." And before the thought was even finished, she had wiped out and caught her little baby face on the wooden stool that the kids use to wash hands. I was scared to death to pick her up, for fear that I would be greeted with another set of snaggle teeth. But I had to pick her up, as she was wrapped tightly and could not move! So I did and at first all looked fine, until I caught sight of internal anatomy gaping in her chin area. AUGH!

But I have done this before. As I yelled at Michael to get on his shoes and get Megs, I had her cleaned up, butterfly bandaged and Motrin-ed within minutes. By the time Dan arrived at the pediatrician, she had already been Dermabonded and calmed. Now I think we'll go out to dinner to make her happy. Plus, I don't want to make it.

Did I mention that last night was The Night of Vomit II? Michael this time. And he was afraid to tell me, so he slept in it all night. So not only am I carrying around an Atlas-like ball of guilt, I now have some majorly set-in stains. He told me, "A stranger came in the night and threw up in my bed." What do you say to that? He's less afraid of the idea of a stranger entering his room than he is of my wrath. Wow.

Let's Rhyme

We are eating lunch and Michael and I are playing a rhyming game. I tell him a word and he has to come up with something that rhymes with it...and it has to be an ACTUAL word, not just that word starting with a different letter. Anyway, he is getting annoyed with all the times I am saying, "Michael, 'toor' isn't a word! You have to come up with a real word that rhymes with 'door'."

So he said, "OK, mommy, I have one for you. Are you ready?"

I said, "Yes, of course."

He said, very slowly so that I would not get confused, "Car-na-taur-us."

Yeah, right, kid.

Let's Talk about Poop, Baby

So Michael has had some trouble in the elimination department lately. I have explained to him that it is probably due to the fact that he doesn't really want to drink very much anymore. That staying hydrated is a really important thing in keeping things, well...moving (not to get too graphic). So he's been trying to finish his cup of whatever at every meal.

He just went into the bathroom and told me, "I am going to make sure this is really soft!" After a bit, I got the "I did it!!" which means 'come help with the rest of this insanely complicated process.'

While he was washing up he said, "That was so comfortable, I cannot even BELIEVE it! That was just SO fascinating!" And then after a moment, "Mom, what does 'fascinating' mean?"

She Rests after The Night of Vomit

So this was the day after Meg (and Evelyn) was up half the night and vomiting spaghetti and blueberries into every corner of her crib (ever done laundry at 3:45 in the morning?). She was very tired and pretty crabby, though it's hard to tell from the smile on her face. She was so so happy to be all cuddled under the blankets and propped up to watch Elmo. She laid there, nearly motionless, for a full hour. And I let her because I was tired, too.

Little Cyclones

My girlfriend Leslie and her yummy girl, Evelyn, came over last week. She loved the play kitchen Megs has and the kids whipped us up a little feast. Megan was very sweet and wanted to just chat with Evy, who she called 'Eppleton.' She loved her so much that one of them gave some killer virus to the other, and the next night both of them threw up all night. We just want to be sure Evelyn's immune system is prepared for preschool.

Winter Walk

Here's Meg, the ultimate mommy, checking on her baby in the snow. The baby who has no mittens or hat, or actually clothes to speak of, on. In the snow.

And Michael, hiding in one of the mailboxes...who still, at four, thinks that when I say 'where IS Michael?!' in an exaggerated tone, that I have zero idea of where he is.

Dad Entry #23

Michael and I play the “I love you more than…” game once in a while. I say, “Michael, I love you more than all the Blue Whales.” (I’m sure you realize that’s a good one because Blue Whales are the biggest animals in the world.) Then Michael comes back with, “Well, I love you more than all the Triceratops!” To which I say, “Oh man, you got me there!” So last night I threw Michael a curveball. I said, “Michael, I love you so much that when you were born, I cried, I was so happy, I cried like crazy, more than you did in the first hour I could see and hold you.” I actually didn’t cry when Meggie was born, I kind of steeled myself against it, although – as evidenced by the majority of these entries about her – I was moved. Anyway, I realized I’d gone overboard in my ‘love you more than’ game with Michael; I figured I’d just confused him. But Michael said, “Daddy, I know you were the guy who made me come out of Mommy’s tummy.” Sara and I raised an eyebrow and asked, in unison, “Really, how do you know that?” He said, “Because I saw pictures.” Sara and I smiled, we were thinking the same thing. Don’t worry, we never filmed or photographed that part. Anyway, I explained to Michael that a doctor – someone highly trained and qualified – had to ‘make him come out of Mommy’s tummy’. Then I braced myself for Michael to ask, “Well, didn’t you do anything to help me get born, Daddy?” But he didn’t ask. And we changed the subject.

Megan might be the cutest thing ever, but her diapers are very stinky. At least she warns us now, “I’m poopy, Mommy, I got poopy out of my bottom.” Then, like a skilled HazMat team, Sara and I scramble to get the offending diaper off and out to the garage. We have a garbage can for Meggie’s stink bombs in the garage. Our garage smells like crap.

Meggie’s a good talker now but she doesn’t always make sense. Yesterday I had this brief exchange with a barefoot Meggie:
Meggie: I took my socks off, Daddy.
Daddy: Why did you do that, Honey?
Meggie: Because it’s cold outside.

I went to the bookstore with the kids last weekend. I explained – to Michael mostly – that the three of us would stay together. That meant, to avoid separating, we might have to look at books Meggie likes first, then books that Michael likes, then books that Daddy likes. Michael was frustrated by this, “Well, uh, well, I don’t like princesses and I am allowed to NOT look at a princess book if Meggie finds one!” I agreed that was fine, he didn’t have to look at a princess book if he didn’t want to.

Michael has seen and read about how animals kill each other, how some eat each other for food. He knows killer whales and sharks attack seals, etc. Heck, we have chicken for dinner half the time and he’s a sharp kid, so he has caught wind of this reality. But, while playing, I caught him narrating stories like, “Hi, I’m a Protoceratops and I’m going to kill you now, Lambeosaurus!” I told Michael to go easy on the ‘killing’ storylines. I emphasized how it’s especially not nice to use that kind of plot or language when narrating stories about people or humans. Maybe they just wrestle and fight and stuff, I told him. Of course, then, while playing, I heard Michael say, “Watch out Brachiosaurus! Here comes T-Rex to make you not alive anymore!”

Kids at Work

Michael is very into extensive setups. He really likes the Sorry board as a "dinosaur land." He also discoverd this perfect "ocean" in a library book. And Meg, doing a puzzle. She really has a knack for puzzles, she does them very quickly. It's cute to watch...but do NOT try to help. Good Lord.

A New Game

Aunt Gretchen gave us some ideas for helping Michael identify lowercase letters AND work on his fine motor skills for pencil-holding. Here he is, proud as a peacock, after getting all the letters finished. He didn't want to play again;)

A Pair of Princesses

I have started Meggie's training in earnest.

Hmm

Michael was just bugging me to find a guy that goes with his shark ship in the animal bucket. I told him that he needed to let me finish changing Meggie's diaper and that he should keep looking for it. Following is our conversation:

Him: "Mommy, I need HELP! It is NOT here. It is NOT. And I need it right NOW."

Me: "Michael, I wouldn't be able to find it right away either. I don't even remember what it looks like."

Him: "There is a scuba diver and a shark ship guy."

Me: "OK, well, keep looking."

Him: "They are NOT HERE. They are LOST."

Me: "Michael, I will bet you that they're in there. If I come over there and I find one, you are going to owe me one dollar. I will take it out of your piggy bank."

Him: "WATCH THAT ATTITUDE."

Dad Entry #22

Oh my sweet Megan. She’s a little chatterbox now and her sweet little voice is wonderful. As long as she’s happy. That’s Megan as Bruce Banner. If you don’t know Bruce Banner, well then, I’m disappointed. I’m an ‘Incredible Hulk’ fan. For some reason, I liked him when I was a kid. And I’m loyal; he’s still my favorite. Although who doesn’t like Wolverine. Anyway, yeah, Megan as the Hulk isn’t so pleasant. She screeches and screams. And throws things. Or knocks them over. She’s pretty combustible. I run for cover, unless I have to catch and juggle things that will surely break or spill. Nice arm on Megan, though. Future softball star for sure. Actually, we don’t run for cover. We deal with it. Actually, Sara deals with it. She appropriately admonishes Megan and calms her down. Then I come out from whatever I was ducking behind. Most of the time Megan’s a sweetheart. Things are less frustrating for her since she can communicate better. We can understand her complaints. Great. Maybe I prefer gibberish. But it must be frustrating to complain loudly and get no comprehension in return – and therefore, no effective help or sympathy. For a while, toddlers get nothing but confused looks, furrowed brows, purse-lipped frowns. Of course, being a toddler can’t be all bad. There are perks like naps and comfy pajamas. Megan seems more inquisitive now, too. She asks, “What ya workin’, Daddy?” Or, “What ya lookin’, Papa?” When she hears something suspicious (like a loud truck outside or an airliner overhead out of O’Hare), Megan says, “I her dat.” Then she kind of looks around cautiously. When Megan tacks on a “Pease, Daddy?” to one of her requests, it’s hard to say no. But I manage. Yeah, that L in please isn’t there yet, and Megan doesn’t say her J’s very well either, so we have Papa Dohn, Aunt Denny, Uncle Dake, and Aunt Dackie. Cute.

Like Meggie’s voice (when she’s Bruce Banner), Christmas was sweet and wonderful, also. I think Sara has more to say about that. By the way, belated Happy Holidays! Love to you and yours! Happy New Year! We hope you had a Merry Christmas!

Dad Entry #21

The other night, after I delivered an especially spirited Christmas prayer, Michael asked me, “Daddy, is God real?” I said, “Yes, God is real, I believe God is real.” He must’ve sensed my answer wasn’t a ‘slam dunk’ affirmative. So he had to clarify the question and asked, “I mean, does God walk on two legs?” I smiled and said God could do that, in fact he did and I was about to tell Michael how his question was so apropos since it was Christmastime…. but I was interrupted by Michael who was suddenly excited, “Or can God fly?!?!?!” Michael brightened a bit as he considered the cool possibilities. I agreed God can do anything but told Michael we’ll discuss this more in the future, for now we should be grateful for what God has given us and we should love one another, I think that would be pleasing to God. Michael quickly switched gears back to dinosaurs. What a question though, and at Christmas, “Does God walk on two legs?” Who needs theologians or philosophers when we have 4-year-olds?

Dad Entry #20

Michael’s favorite song right now is “Thunderstruck.” Nice! AC-DC still makes my hair stand up. An important legacy for my son. He liked a “Rusted Root” song I played for him too; it had a quick beat, a lot of percussion. We listened to both songs on the way to the “Cabelas” superstore nearby. Papa John has taken Michael to Cabelas in KC before. He loves it. They have taxidermied fish and animals all over the place. Bears, hammerhead sharks, even a safari scene with a rhino, lion, etc. They also have a pair of huge fish tanks with freshwater fish like bass, trout, catfish, panfish. But our prized discovery was a ‘snakesy,’ a stuffed rattlesnake. Michael started chirping in his high-pitched, ‘baby animal’ voice. It’s difficult to describe, it’s the voice he gives his animals – including his ‘snakesy’ and ‘pillpo’ at home – when they talk to him or each other. Michael is very imaginative; he weaves terrific stories and scenes. He narrates aloud as he acts out the scenes with the animal figures – or cars or trains – he is playing with. “Then the baby sperm whale said to the dolphin, ‘Watch out! I’m going to dive for a squid, and you should be jumping at the dolphin show,’” and on and on. But the high-pitched ‘baby’ voice of ‘Michael the narrator’ can be grating. It reminds me of “Caddyshack” when Bill Murray gives a voice to the gopher. Or the voice of “Toonces the driving cat” from Saturday Night Live. “Oh noooooooooooo!” says Toonces the cat as he drives off the cliff. So at Cabelas, Michael saw the rattlesnake and lit up with excitement. “Snakesy, snakesy, snakesy, snakesy!!!” I think I noticed a sideways glance from a couple of crusty hunters. The kind of guys that stop at Cabelas to buy bullets. So they can chew on them and spit fire. Actually, we were all kids once (except for Chuck Norris; he was born with a beard and he roundhouse kicked the obstetrician in the face). So, anyway, we all had annoying ‘play voices’ and our favorite toy animals. What? “Speak for yourself,” you say? Fine. But I‘ll admit it, I probably had a high-pitched, ‘play voice’ too. Of course, my ‘animal stories’ were always one animal kicking another animal’s butt! I can’t wait for Michael to start writing down his stories some day. They’ll be great! Maybe we can write together. He’s an inquisitive, creative dude, and I think that’s a great blessing.

A Snow Bunny and A Snow Brachiosaurus

So about 6" of snow came down a few days ago, and the kids freaked out. The morning that we woke up to it was a school day and I COULD NOT FIND MICHAEL'S BOOTS! Are you kidding me? He was the pariah of the class, and had to stay inside as the other kids gleefully slid down the mini-hill on the playground and threw snowballs at the teachers. I left preschool that morning and went directly to Lands End and bought another pair of boots (to ensure finding the other ones). So these pictures are from that afternoon after Meg woke up. Both of the kids were in absolute love with the snow...Michael so much that he "snuggled" it. Megan just kept saying, "I fall down, I fall down."

Food Chain

Last night, as we were reading yet another book about dinosaurs, there was a picture of a salmon on one of the pages. Michael said,"Mom, when you say 'salmon' it makes me want to have ham, which is a kind of meat, which is protein for my body."

The last part of the sentence was said with a Sean Connery accent. I kid you not.

Dad Entry #19 (Sorry, a long one but I make two movie references and even mention Michael!)

Yeah, I really should say a little more about my son. What’s his name again? Of course, I actually spend more time with Michael, as Megan’s response to my presence is, “I want Mommy.” Thanks, Megan. I love you more than anyone else times ten and that’s what I get. Nice. (Wow, I’ve already switched gears to Megan. That didn’t take long. Michael got one sentence. It might be best if I never let Michael read this. ‘Journal? What Journal? That thing Megan’s reading? Oh, that; it’s nothing.’)

In case you’re wondering, or, rather, in case you’re ‘accusing’, I love Michael more than anyone else times ten, also. Actually, it’s times one-hundred! One-thousand! One-million!!! (And not an outdated ‘one-million’ underbid like that from Dr. Evil).

Michael’s not very timid, at least when he’s in familiar surroundings, with family or friends or the preschool he’s attended for a year or so. I wouldn’t call him aggressive, but I wouldn’t call him wimpy, either. I really narrowed it there, didn’t I? Michael will invade someone else’s space, maybe even relieve them of a toy if it’s one he wants (and he gets scolded for it). So what am I trying to say? Hell if I know. I’m like every parent – that’s why it’s a cliché – I’ve got a product here with no instruction manual. A son. And it’s the most important thing I’ve ever been affiliated with. Oh well. Actually, I guess I’m saying – what any father would say – ‘I want my son to have some toughness.’ When it’s needed. Michael has it, no question. (Now the issue is, ‘when is it appropriate to call on?’) But where does Michael’s toughness come from? Yes, of course. I know. Sara. Michael inherited toughness from his mommy. But I think it’s also because I had a personal ‘Forrest Gump’ realization. Remember when Forrest visits Jenny, near the end of the film, and Jenny points to this little boy sitting in front of the television. “He’s yours, Forrest,” is what Jenny says. I was touched because Forrest, despite his limitations, has self-knowledge and he turns to Jenny and Jenny senses his concern. “No Forrest, he’s the brightest kid in his class.” Awesome. So anyway, my thing is I don’t want Michael to be a 'worrier', I don't want him to worry about trouble or confrontation, to avoid it at all costs. A lot can be avoided or circumvented - and it should be, especially needless, pointless trouble - but some confrontation is inevitable in life, dealing with it is essential. So I want Michael to face it head on, not avoiding or denying or being unprepared for it, not facing it ‘head down’. I want Michael to understand this, despite, say, the fact he regularly sees me with head down receiving orders and tongue-lashings from Sara. He might think a man has to operate this way. No, a ‘man’ doesn’t have to operate like this, just a ‘husband’. I’m kidding. And Sara doesn’t give me tongue-lashings. Very often. Uh, only when I deserve it. Do you see why I’m concerned!!! But not like Forrest exactly. Though I will be nothing but proud when Michael surpasses me in intelligence, like, when he’s in 5th grade. The problem is good 'thinkers' are often good 'worriers'. I just want to make sure Michael isn’t too risk- or conflict-averse. My silly, juvenile way to address this concern: lots of rough-housing and wrestling and roaring like dinosaurs and physical activity. For some reason, I think this helps. So I regularly tackle Michael and put him in an arm-bar or some other Brazilian Jujitsu hold I learned watching Ultimate Fighter. Michael’s at a tiny disadvantage. He’s too young to watch violent UFC bouts (otherwise he would surely learn faster and more than me). And I outweigh him by 150 lbs. My cousin Josiah, who actually trained with these fighters a while back, taught me a move or two, also. Michael says, “Daddy, don’t put me in a body triangle,” as I maneuver him into a leg lock where I have both his legs and arms pinned but I still have one of my arms free to tickle his armpit and ribs. Michael has fun with it. He’ll laugh and grunt and growl and grit his teeth and wrestle ‘like an orca’. I hope this translates to Michael gritting his teeth and persevering when life demands it. Of course, what we also see, on occasion, is Michael gritting his teeth and staring down Megan in a kind of threatening pose. Like he’s ready to rip that whale he wants out of her hand. But he pauses and doesn’t do it. Most of the time. And we remind Michael that you don’t act ‘tough’ and take toys from your cute, little, two-year-old sister.

But it’s okay for Daddy to act ‘tough’ and wrestle with four-year-old Michael. Hmm?

Shock of all Shocks

He gives "her" a kiss! "Her" being the girl who is constantly relegated to the garbage!

Minnesota Zoo

So here is Michael and his cousins and the cousin of his cousins, Vinnie. They might have sat here all day, but we made them leave.

Thorough Thought Process for a 4-year old

Conversation on the way to get hamburger buns at the nth hour:

Me: Should we go to CVS or Eurofresh (grocery store)? I think we'll go to Eurofresh, I want to make sure we get fresh buns.

Michael: What does fresh mean?

Me: Fresh...like yummy. Not hard.

Michael: Hard to chew or hard to make?