6 months and growing stubborn

Yesterday we celebrated 6 months (exactly 26 weeks – wow! only one week short of my entire pregnancy!).  Lucas and Paul are starting to show their true colors, one of those being stubbornness.
Sunday morning, it took me almost 20 minutes to feed Lucas his medicine in less than an ounce of milk.  After trying the bottle, I finally grabbed a medicine dropper and squeezed it into his cheek. Then he learned if he didn’t swallow, it would dribble out the side of his mouth!  Stinker!  Finally I realized how bad it smelled, figured it must taste bad also, so I diluted it with more milk and then he drank it by bottle.

This afternoon, Paul was being fussy, so I rolled him onto his tummy.  He rolled himself to the right onto his back, but let out a small cry.  So I rolled him back to his tummy.  He then rolled over to the left!  Four times, we went back and forth, right, left, right, left, before his Mommy finally got the hint that he didn’t want to be on his tummy.
We are told they are on track for their adjusted age of 3 months, with a smattering of abilities above that.  They look at their hands with such intensity, and swat more intentionally at toys.  But their favorite games are still the ones they play with Mommy and Daddy.  James’ game is pulling them to their feet, then to a sit, then lay back down.  They love the standing part, but start to grin in anticipation of landing on the floor.  I’ve started a game I call “airplane” where they lay on their tummies on my shins while I lay on my back.  (I know, every kid enjoys this position!)  I hold their arms straight out, and then we take off and land, do barrel rolls (I make a circle with my feet), stall (they jerk backward a little), dive (go upside-down while I hold their thighs, they love this one!), and cruise along with airplane noises.  It’s a pretty fun game and gives me good exercise as well as entertains the boys.  What fun!

Questions

So many questions we have about the next school year:

Should we move back to Minneapolis?
Will we make enough money to live in the city with Cindy teaching and James working from home?
Will Cindy enjoy working, being away from the boys?
Will James enjoy staying at home all day with the boys?
Can we fit back into the lives of our friends and church?
Do we buy a house or rent something? What can we find in our price range?
Where should we live? Closer to friends in the south or to family in the north?
How much should we get involved in outside activities?
And then there’s the smaller issues…new doctor, buying a van, cell phones or not, once a week childcare, etc.

We praise God for showing his faithfulness in our lives this far, and know that he will continue to be faithful in the years to come.  Please join us in praying for these decisions.  Although there is probably no “right” or “wrong” answer, we would have to sacrifice things we enjoy now in order to enjoy other things.

Ever feel about 2 fingers tall…

I had this feeling last night. We (the kids and I) went to church last night for youth group and a business meeting. The kids were really good and we had just gotten home. Trenton and KelleAyn usually both get out Trenton’s side of the car when we get home because I don’t feel like going around the car to get her out. Last night Trenton asked if Kelle could get out her side of the car. I told him yes so he closed his door after he got out. It was dark outside and I couldn’t see where he went so I figured he was going to the front door to wait for me to come unlock it. No such luck. Instead, he was trying to be nice and had gone around the other side of the car to open Kelle’s door. I was still sitting inside and decided to lean across and open her door from the inside. I got to the door only shortly before Trenton did and opened the door. Immediately, screaming starts. I had hit Trenton with the door when I pushed it open.

I jump out of the car and run around to him. He is screaming non stop. I look in his mouth and see some blood on his tougue. Thinking he had bit his tougue I grab him and run to unlock the door so I can get a better look with the lights inside to see how bad it is. On the way to the door, he starts screaming, “Put it back, I want it back in my mouth. I want my tooth back.” It didn’t really register what he said until after I got inside and looked in his mouth.

I had succeeded in knocking out one of his front teeth.  Talk about feeling really small. How many people can claim they knocked out their child’s tooth when they were trying to help. We got the bleeding to stop but I couldn’t get the crying to stop for a while. It came to light that he was terrified that he had lost his tooth and it was gone forever. He was scared he wouldn’t be able to eat anymore. He told us he was going to have to drink only milk, water, and juice; he couldn’t eat food. After a lot of reassuring that it was normal and that everyone, even Wyatt, has lost teeth and that a new one would grow in, he calmed down enough to go to bed. (at 9:30)

He slept fine and woke up ready to show people and tell them the story. I took him to the dentist this morning and was told everything will be fine. No problems will result. He should get the adult tooth in place in about 6 months time, maybe less.  This has changed his smile though.

As a side note, I would say, you might want to warn your children about losing teeth sometime before they start. Poor child was terribly traumatized.

Potty, Paint, and Personality

I get the computer for only a few hours each night, if I have time, since ours stopped working once January 1 hit.  Rather like Y2K, only eight years late.

I was going to brag that Eli is now potty trained, and it took only about a week, but I am afraid to do so because that means tomorrow he will fill his pants… so I won’t do that.  The truth is he is now wearing underwear fulltime (excepting sleep-times since he pees about 1/3 of the time) and we only have to change his bottoms once or twice a day, depending on how good we are at remembering to distract him from play often enough that he uses the facilities.  This is a huge change for me, having a child with a bladder bigger than a pebble.  He and Hannah can drink the same amount, and she will have to pee sooner and more frequently while he could hold it half the day if he chose.

Today I had to change his bottoms after breakfast, but it was not because he failed his potty training.  He had finished eating, but was still sitting at the table drinking “tea milk” and playing.  I was cleaning up the kitchen, present but not really paying attention to him.  Suddenly I hear him giggling uproarously.  This mystified me since usually it takes another person to make him giggle so much, and he was alone.  I looked over.  He was holding his shirt away from his belly and giggling with addictive laughter.  I thought his tummy must be amusing him.  I finally stopped to pay attention.

He took a gulp of tea milk.  He spit it out so it hit his shirt and soaked in.  Then he would laugh.  I’m not sure if the spitting or the tea soaking into his shirt was more amusing to him.  His shirt, pants, underwear, and socks were nearly completely soaked.  I wonder how much tea milk actually reached his belly.

He got out of punishment for a full five minutes because he kept making me laugh with his infectious giggle.  Then n8 reminded me that Eli manipulates me by making me laugh.  Darn him. (Eli, I mean, not n8)

Hannah has regressed a little.  Yesterday she got into my makeup and “painted” my dresser with an entire tube of lipstick, part of an eyeliner, and as much mascara as she could remove from the bottle.  Surprisingly, she had no desire to clean up her mess, but instead wanted me to.  She also decided to dump all the water out of my vase of flowers.  It is too big for her to even try to carry, so I’m not sure what possessed her to do so.

Nayah has been doing better lately.  She is indeed sensitive to dairy.  I finally managed to go completely without eating any cheese or ice cream for two weeks, and when I cheated once she turned gassy and cranky again.  She was sick with respiratory issues the end of February, and since then, she has calmed down quite a bit.  I think suffering makes her gentle.  She is actually very, very pleasant now, grinning and giggling and grunting a good part of the day.  Our time in MT helped her like toddlers more.  She let Eli feed her a bottle today, and I caught her grinning at him two days ago.  Unfortunately I missed capturing it on film, so if she ever claims that she has always disliked her brother, I don’t even have any proof to say otherwise.  Though she is happier, Nayah still is not gently easy-going… but how boring would that be to have mild-mannered children?  After all, it is the misdeeds that are far more interesting and hilarious than every-day perfection.

Poopy Happens

We stayed home from church today.  The entire family has “the crud”.  I think Bett and I were hit the hardest, but maybe the kids are just really good at hiding it.  Bett, especially, has been hit hard.  Finally this evening, she went to lay down for awhile, and I got to feed the kids and put them to bed.  No big deal, right?

We have recently begun potty-training Eli.  This means that on occassion, he walks around with nothing on the lower half of his body, and when he needs to go poopy or potty, he (theoretically) runs to the potty chair and does his duty.  He’d been doing pretty well today, going potty a couple of times and even dropping a small amount of poopy into the chair.  Yay Eli!

I was finishing up a project in the kids’ room, and Eli comes in sounding a little worried and anxious.  As I look down at him, he begins to pee on the floor.  “No, Eli” I shout, and quick run to the living room to deposit the tools I had just picked up, so I could grab a rag and clean up the mess.  Except that there, right in the middle of the hallway, is a small collection of quarter-sized poopy.  I throw my tools onto the couch and return to the bedroom where I find Eli finishing the emptying of his bladder onto yet another spot on the floor.  I grab him and rush him to the toilet, where he sits while I look for a bucket and something to clean the carpet with.  He MAY have tinkled a little, but soon he was asking to get down.  I got him down, and giving up the search for a bucket temporarily, I grab a wad of toilet paper with which to pick up the parts of most substance.  Eli scampers to his room, eager to play one of his favorite games – open and close the door repetitively and get Daddy to roar at you.  The game had not yet started, however, when Eli comes out holding his hand toward me and saying “Daddy!” in the most pitiful voice he can muster.  Thinking he must have closed the hand in the door, I bend down to look at what he wants to show me.  What it is, and Eli’s voice repeating the word “poopy” hit my mind at the same time.  He’s distraught again, this time because the poopy is on his hand.  I steal a glance behind him and wish I hadn’t.  There in the middle of the bedroom floor is a pile of dung sizeable enough to make a large dog proud.  I snatch up Eli and throw him into the bath, and then return to survey the damage.  Apparently Eli had touched the pile of poopy, and then panicked looking for a place to clean off his hands.  Failed attempts included the trash can, the wall, and the closet.  I’m just glad that he decided to come to Daddy before trying other options, such as his bedspread or the clean clothes on top of his dresser waiting to be put away.

But the mess was managed, the carpets (mostly) cleaned, and Eli got to take a bath.  All in all a great night - at least for him.  I’ll have to work on Bett timing her sick-as-a-dog evenings a little better, though.