Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Thank You, Aunt Jenny
This morning we took a trip to Michaels, the hobby shop. I add the qualifier because Megan was devastated when we pulled up to the store and there was no Melanie or Mia to be found (she thought we were going to Michael SILVESTRI'S.) Aunt Jenny had sent gift cards for Easter and the kids were SO excited. Michael said, "There are so many things here I'd like to buy!" After much deliberation, animals were chosen. Megan went with a tiger, a clown fish and a jellyfish. Michael chose a tube of boats and a hermit crab. The world is good. Thank you, Aunt Jenny!
A Little Dressing Up
In an effort to play with his sister, Michael went above and beyond a few days ago. What else to say?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Dad Entry #25
The house is empty. No kids. The difference, of course, is striking. Less noise, fewer dishes, no diapers, no schedule, we eat whenever, come and go as we please. Michael and Megan are at the Ploehn’s for 5 days and, yes, it’s a bit eerie, sort of timeless, or just retro, the way Sara and I were free to run around Chicago over the weekend, our favorite dives, nice places too, streets and storefronts, our old apartments, old neighborhoods. Places marked by memory or a particular charm. Ambiance is a good word for restaurants, the low-lit kind, but some of our favorite places don’t have ambiance really; they just have history, the kind fashioned by decades and millions of patrons. Character is a word, but it’s overused. These places are comfortably worn down, wise. Some are beat up, not super-clean. But they are fun; they smile at us. And they have great salsa. Or tacos on corn tortillas with cilantro. Or Pad Thai, Pasta Giovanni, a sandwich no one else can make, service you remember, the perfect line-up of tap beers for both taste and cool handles which the bartenders pull nonchalantly when they draw us a beer. We caught some live music for the first time in ages. Now we’re going to buy two guitars. Why not? So we didn’t have the kids tugging on us. And we couldn’t tug on them (I have to give Megan regular squeezes when I’m with her). No entertaining chatter from Michael. No questions like, “Daddy, does summer come after winter?” Yes it does, Michael, yes it does. There’s a little thing called spring in there too, but spring is nice, very nice. And the Cubs, Michael, the Cubs are in town again in two weeks. And I have tickets.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Dad Entry #24
Megan is so sweet. If she drops something she says, “Sowwy, Dad.” Or if I drop something she says, “It’s okay, Dad.” Though, my favorite is still when she approaches, with hands in the pockets of her little blue jeans, and she says, “Hey Daddy, what-ya workin’?” I think Megan is in the sweet spot of cuteness right now. Three feet tall and putting sentences together in her sweet, little, high inflected voice. Of course, sometimes she says, “Go away, Daddy” and I don’t think that’s very cute at all.
Michael doesn’t like to have his toenails trimmed. Today, when Sara said he was due for a trim, he said, “Trimming is ridiculous. Trimming is NOT part of this world.” I guess he hasn’t fully suppressed the memories of Mommy drawing blood when trimming his nails as a baby.
Meggie still says, “Like an orca, like an orca,” when she’s eating or running around. It’s cute but it’s so, well, Michael. My little Megan has learned a lot from, and imitates, big brother Michael. I guess that’s okay, though I wish Michael was nicer to her. He still views her as an annoyance, mostly, and he’s very bristly and overprotective of all his things when Megan is near. “No, MAY-GAN!” he says. He shouldn’t scold her in the first place. But the condescension in his voice is what really what makes our skin crawl. Yep, Michael doesn’t share or care for Megs like Sara and I want him to. Oh well, other parents advise us that sibling rivalry and jealousy – especially at this age – are common. “Yeah, we had to deal with that,” they say while rolling eyes and smiling, “But just wait, some day they’ll look after each other. Michael will take pleasure in protecting her and putting a scare in younger boys that show interest in her or, even worse, are mean to her.” I hope so. We continue to work on the way Michael treats Megan day after day after day after day after day after day...we are persistent. And we are still waiting for consistent, noticeable progress.
The other day Michael was drawing on his white board and told me, “Daddy, I’m drawing Jupiter’s moon. It has a lot of volcanoes on it.” Interesting. I didn’t know that. To date, around 700 species of dinosaurs have been named. Michael has studied every one of them. Some of the names are unpronounceable to non-scientifically minded or trained people. Indeed, they are no problem for Michael. He isn’t even in kindergarten yet but it seems he can recognize and flawlessly pronounce the name of every dinosaur that ever lived. And yes, like any arrogant academian, he will eagerly – almost gleefully – correct someone who attempts to pronounce – and subsequently butchers – a species name like Pachycephalasaurus or Deinonychus or Sinosauropteryx. Perhaps Megan will imitate Michael’s inquisitiveness and capacity to learn. And capacity to verbalize and communicate. But not his capacity to manipulate or argue pretty please. Yes, Megan will learn a great deal from Michael like all of us younger siblings learned from our older siblings. (Thanks, Jen. Jenny did tons for me. No question. Those of us who are younger siblings are lucky to have our older counterparts).
So Michael appears to enjoy scholastic exercise more than physical exertion or challenge. Michael prefers not to swim alone or get dressed by himself. Megan, on the other hand, insists on doing such things unassisted. She is fond of saying, “Do it self,” when anyone tries to help her with anything. And she will run and jump into an empty swimming pool without fear. Contrast that with Michael who agonizes before going down a slide at the park. Michael will actually argue that he can’t do something. He’ll sit and frown and sigh loudly with one leg in his pants, for example, certain that he needs help, refusing to continue trying without it. Of course, with proper instruction and encouragement he can, and will, finish putting on his pants. Alone, that is, without any physical help. But he is frustrated much quicker by physical challenges than intellectual ones. Oh well, we all have strengths and preferences and so on. And we all develop different skills and different areas of our lives at varying rates. Amen. Live and learn. Or, as a song by Limp Bizkit puts it, “Life is a lesson, you learn it when you’re through.” I think that kind of says what I mean, although Limp Bizkit is pretty wild and crazy and profane. I really ought to quote Ben Franklin or Lincoln or Churchill or Socrates, instead.
I realize two things. Number 1: This is a long entry. Sorry. If you’re still reading, thank you, you are the only one, thanks for your interest and support, the Cox family loves you! Number 2: I know I haven’t been very kind to Michael in this entry. So let me tell you something: Michael is the greatest thing that’s happened in the last one hundred years since the Cubs won a World Series in 1908. And, while we’re on the subject of baseball, let me tell you something else: Michael is a good hitter. He’s been hitting off his tee in the basement a lot lately. Thanks to Papa John for making the tee. Michael is making good use and almost killed me one time already with a rocket he crushed right at me. I couldn’t get my hands up or out of the way fast enough (I was only about ten feet away) and the hard, solid plastic ball left a perfectly round, nasty, stinging welt on my chest. Awesome! It was good pain!
Michael doesn’t like to have his toenails trimmed. Today, when Sara said he was due for a trim, he said, “Trimming is ridiculous. Trimming is NOT part of this world.” I guess he hasn’t fully suppressed the memories of Mommy drawing blood when trimming his nails as a baby.
Meggie still says, “Like an orca, like an orca,” when she’s eating or running around. It’s cute but it’s so, well, Michael. My little Megan has learned a lot from, and imitates, big brother Michael. I guess that’s okay, though I wish Michael was nicer to her. He still views her as an annoyance, mostly, and he’s very bristly and overprotective of all his things when Megan is near. “No, MAY-GAN!” he says. He shouldn’t scold her in the first place. But the condescension in his voice is what really what makes our skin crawl. Yep, Michael doesn’t share or care for Megs like Sara and I want him to. Oh well, other parents advise us that sibling rivalry and jealousy – especially at this age – are common. “Yeah, we had to deal with that,” they say while rolling eyes and smiling, “But just wait, some day they’ll look after each other. Michael will take pleasure in protecting her and putting a scare in younger boys that show interest in her or, even worse, are mean to her.” I hope so. We continue to work on the way Michael treats Megan day after day after day after day after day after day...we are persistent. And we are still waiting for consistent, noticeable progress.
The other day Michael was drawing on his white board and told me, “Daddy, I’m drawing Jupiter’s moon. It has a lot of volcanoes on it.” Interesting. I didn’t know that. To date, around 700 species of dinosaurs have been named. Michael has studied every one of them. Some of the names are unpronounceable to non-scientifically minded or trained people. Indeed, they are no problem for Michael. He isn’t even in kindergarten yet but it seems he can recognize and flawlessly pronounce the name of every dinosaur that ever lived. And yes, like any arrogant academian, he will eagerly – almost gleefully – correct someone who attempts to pronounce – and subsequently butchers – a species name like Pachycephalasaurus or Deinonychus or Sinosauropteryx. Perhaps Megan will imitate Michael’s inquisitiveness and capacity to learn. And capacity to verbalize and communicate. But not his capacity to manipulate or argue pretty please. Yes, Megan will learn a great deal from Michael like all of us younger siblings learned from our older siblings. (Thanks, Jen. Jenny did tons for me. No question. Those of us who are younger siblings are lucky to have our older counterparts).
So Michael appears to enjoy scholastic exercise more than physical exertion or challenge. Michael prefers not to swim alone or get dressed by himself. Megan, on the other hand, insists on doing such things unassisted. She is fond of saying, “Do it self,” when anyone tries to help her with anything. And she will run and jump into an empty swimming pool without fear. Contrast that with Michael who agonizes before going down a slide at the park. Michael will actually argue that he can’t do something. He’ll sit and frown and sigh loudly with one leg in his pants, for example, certain that he needs help, refusing to continue trying without it. Of course, with proper instruction and encouragement he can, and will, finish putting on his pants. Alone, that is, without any physical help. But he is frustrated much quicker by physical challenges than intellectual ones. Oh well, we all have strengths and preferences and so on. And we all develop different skills and different areas of our lives at varying rates. Amen. Live and learn. Or, as a song by Limp Bizkit puts it, “Life is a lesson, you learn it when you’re through.” I think that kind of says what I mean, although Limp Bizkit is pretty wild and crazy and profane. I really ought to quote Ben Franklin or Lincoln or Churchill or Socrates, instead.
I realize two things. Number 1: This is a long entry. Sorry. If you’re still reading, thank you, you are the only one, thanks for your interest and support, the Cox family loves you! Number 2: I know I haven’t been very kind to Michael in this entry. So let me tell you something: Michael is the greatest thing that’s happened in the last one hundred years since the Cubs won a World Series in 1908. And, while we’re on the subject of baseball, let me tell you something else: Michael is a good hitter. He’s been hitting off his tee in the basement a lot lately. Thanks to Papa John for making the tee. Michael is making good use and almost killed me one time already with a rocket he crushed right at me. I couldn’t get my hands up or out of the way fast enough (I was only about ten feet away) and the hard, solid plastic ball left a perfectly round, nasty, stinging welt on my chest. Awesome! It was good pain!
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Jim Gill
We went to a concert for the kids yesterday...everyone seemed to really like it. There were obviously tattoos and face painters beforehand. Here's Michael with his guys...Silvestri and Ben Lamonica.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
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.
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?"
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?"
Sunday, January 27, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
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!”
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!”
Saturday, January 05, 2008
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;)
Friday, January 04, 2008
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."
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."
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