A Sight for Sore Eyes

Need I say more?

Jeff arrived last night, a few days early thanks to the kindness of his commander and changeable tickets. We opted to not tell Wyatt he was coming home; after my mom's visit in January I learned the countdown to a loved one is overwhelming for him. So I told him we were going to look at airplanes and then, lo and behold, there was Daddy.

There were lots of I love you's, big squeezy hugs (complete with Wyatt patting Jeff on the back), many requests of "I want you come home with me!" and even more exclamations of "Daddy's home!" It was lots of fun.

We've spent today enjoying each other's company and Wyatt has, more than once, been caught saying, "I want my Daddy" or "Where my Daddy?" only to realize that Jeff is right beside him. We have a very, very happy home right now.

Life rocks, indeed.

New Phase

First of all, and hopefully this won't be a jinx, we're on day four of dry pants. We've progressed to leaving the house whenever we feel like it though haven't ventured someplace like a park, where the facilities are sketchier. Baby steps.

Secondly, we've entered a new stage of the why nots. He's still not into asking why, but is OBSESSED with knowing the plan for the day. And maybe the plan for tomorrow. It goes a little like this and starts as soon as he wakes:

W: What we doin' Mommy?
S: We're going to go downstairs and have breakfast.
W: And then what we doin' Mommy?
S: And then you're going to play while I make the grocery list.
W: And then what we doin' Mommy?
S: Well, then we'll go upstairs so mommy can get showered so we can go to the commissary.
W: And what we do after you shower, Mommy?
S: We'll brush your teeth and change your clothes so you're ready to go, too.
W: And then what we do, Mommy?
S: Then we'll go to the commissary.
W: What we do after the commissary?
S: What would you like to do, Wyatt?
W: Mmmmm, maybe go to Trader Joe's?
S: We'll see how you behave at the commissary.
W: Well then what we do after the commissary?
S: We'll come home and put our groceries away.
W: And then what we do, Mommy? After we put groceries away?
S: Then we'll have lunch.
W: And what we do after lunch?
S: Then we'll nap.
W: And after nap?
S: We'll see.
W: But what about after nap, Mommy?
S: We'll play.
W: What we do after we play, Mommy?
S: We'll eat dinner.
W: What we do after dinner?
S: We'll see.
W: But what we do then, Mommy? After dinner?
S: We'll hang out until bathtime.
W: And what we do after bath?
S: You'll go to bed.
W: I want to read before bed.
S: Yes, we'll read before bed.
W: And then what we do?
S: You'll sleep.
W: And then what we do?
S: We'll start over again tomorrow.
W: Yay! We start over again tomorrow.

And that was - no kidding - before we left his room this morning. The same conversation repeated itself enough times before we left the house that I told him Mommy would not be answering any questions for five minutes. Which saved me only my breath, not the asking.

Oh, and he also has to know where everything came from.
"That a nice necklace, Mommy, where you get it?"
"I like these jeans Mommy, where I get them?"
"Who gave me this book, Mommy?"
"Where we get that whisk, Mommy?"
"Who gave me this toy, Mommy?"
"Where that girl get that sticker, Mommy?"
"Where Millie get her blanket, Mommy?"
"I like your shirt Mommy. Where you get that shirt?"
"Where you get your shoulder, Mommy?"
"Where I get my belly button, Mommy?"

etc., etc., etc.

You're worn out from reading it. I'm worn out from living it. Can anyone tell me when this will end?

He's Placed His Bet

When I went to retreive Wyatt from the ChildWatch section at the Y today, I was greeted by all the workers congratulating me on our baby girl. I must have looked baffled because they quickly went on to explain that Wyatt had spent the hour telling them all about his baby sister.

Hmm.

I told them that was interesting, considering we don't know if it's a brother or a sister and that we'd be sure to let them know in a few weeks. They seemed equally vexed that Wyatt was so insistent about this unknown fact. Then the lady in the back piped up and said, "Maybe that explains why, when I asked his sister's name, he just kept saying mommy. It must be because you haven't had her yet."

So in the car on the way home, I said, "you know, we might have a baby brother." In the past this has always made him say, in a sing-song voice, "might get a baby brudder" but today he simply said, "or a sister."

Apparently he officially thinks it's a girl. Three weeks, one day until we should know for sure. We'll be sure to let you know if he wins the prize.

Knee Deep

There are a lot of projects going on around here, including but not limited to gestating an almost-37-week fetus and potty training a two-year old. Not a combination I would heartily recommend, though we're all going to make it. We attempted the "one day" potty training method only to learn that wasn't really going to fly with my little man. It did, however, afford us an entire day devoted to each other with no distractions. No answering the phone, no toys for part of the day, nothing. It wore us out. And we learned that the take-him-every-so-often-in-hopes-of-staying-dry is more our speed. Today was better; only two accidents and both of them early in the day. We actually ventured out of the house for over an hour and all was well. Which is what prompted me to actually write something on this little neglected blog.

You see, Wyatt received some of those gel window clings for Valentine's Day and he loves them. Unfortunately, the X's and O's were prone to tearing (what with all the stretching they were subjected to) and a lot of the little hearts didn't make it, either. So I decided we'd go to our local dollar store and get some more gelly bits of entertainment. We found a sheet of 22 St. Patrick's Day clovers and two green leprechauns then moved toward the checkout with our treasure. On the way, Wyatt noticed "they sell balloons here." To which I replied, "yes, but we are only getting your sticky things (his label for them, not mine) so no balloons today." I thought we'd finished the conversation.

As we approached the saleslady, however, Wyatt looked right past me and said, "ma'am, I'd like a balloon please." And at that point the clerk and I cracked up. I almost caved for the sheer ingenuity of it, but we remain balloonless for the time being. Don't feel too sorry for him - I'm sure we'll go to Trader Joe's in the next couple of days (since I know both where their bathrooms are and that they're clean) and he'll get his prize then.

Hail to the Chief

We live within walking distance of a small airport and it turns out our new president was flying in here tonight - his very first flight aboard Air Force One! So I did what any looking-for-free-activities-mom would do and loaded up the kid, the dog and the camera to see what we could see. It turns out we weren't alone in that thought and parking was interesting; Millie stayed in the car while Wyatt and I walked a block to the corner so we could stand with the other crazy folks.

Wyatt understood just enough to say that he wanted to see "President bama's airplane" and then wanted to know where the engines were on that big jet. As you can well imagine, it was fairly anticlimactic, especially since he landed from the east. From the west would've been much more exciting. Oh well. So here's our money shot of the big event:

Impressive, no? Yeah, I need to learn how to use my camera and also it's a little challenging to hold still AND hold a toddler. I'm pretty sure the prez waved at us as he taxied by; try not to be jealous.

Yes. That's Much Better.

Sleep is a miraculous thing. After a solid 12 hours of shut-eye last night, Wyatt is happily dancing to his new cd (which I'm thrilled is borrowed from the library because - free!). So I'm taking this opportunity to get a few photos off the camera.

Our Valentine craft.

His favorite play-doh trick: load the end of the roller and then...

...use it like a blow-gun. I might have accidentally taught him that one.

His morning "getting cozy" routine in the chair. Totally self-constructed by stripping pj's, grabbing a pillow and the blanket off the couch.

Using his new golf set. He's always the blue club and he's taken the whole "small swings" rule to the utmost and if you try to putt more than an inch at a time, you'll be scolded for swinging too hard.

Rough Day for the Kids

Thank goodness I was in a good mood and feeling rested today because wow! Millie & Wyatt were miserable. Sweet Millie had her teeth cleaned today (yay! no more stinky dog breath!) and of course that involves anesthesia and time at the vet's office and a sore mouth and maybe even a sore throat from the respirator thingy. She's a little out of sorts tonight and is just feeling needy. Totally justifiable and I might even let her sleep with me. But probably not because I have a hard enough time getting a good night's sleep without four paws pushing me around.

Things I learned from the dental tech:
1. I should brush her teeth after every meal (what?!). I started asking about less time-consuming options. You know, like maybe one of those treated rawhides every once in a while? Or maybe that stuff you dump in their water? And she said those are better than nothing but not the same as brushing. She suggested I could use some gel that I squirt into her mouth after each meal. Ummm, probably not. So I tried to gently explain that, while we love our Millie very much, I have a two-year old and a baby due in five weeks so probably I won't actually be upping Millie's oral hygiene plan anytime soon. I mean, I haven't done it for eight years so now's not a likely time to start. I walked out with a bottle of the water additive stuff. We'll see how that goes.

2. Millie has funky teeth. But hey, apparently it's the fault of her breed and nothing else. Two teeth are rotated 90 degrees from where they usually are; a molar or two are simply missing; her front teeth (the cute ones that stick out) are a little loose because the bone underneath doesn't always fuse in doggies like Ms. Millie. Hmmmm. And to think we've never known any of that. The tech actually used the phrase "the teeth are all just kind of tossed in there" to explain the dental pattern of a short-nosed breed.

And Wyatt? Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and just never recovered. There were moments of greatness - he did such a good job paying attention at story time this morning, was quiet as we walked through the rest of the library searching for a book for me, played happily at the Y while I got in a little exercise, was remarkably patient while we waited for Millie and gave some great hugs to a golden retreiver in the waiting room - but if you encountered him during a moment not mentioned above, there was crying. Lots and lots of nonsensical crying. He totally embraced his bath being an hour early and fell asleep promptly. I certainly hope he's back to normal tomorrow.

And since that means he'll wake up bright and early, shouting, "mama! MA MA! MAAAA MAAA!" from his room and then announce that he wants to go downstairs to "pay" before breakfast (then as soon as we eat he'll want to know, "what we doin' today, mama?"), I'd better get some rest and come up with some plans for tomorrow.

It's Official

I'm large. For me, anyway. At every prenatal appointment with Wyatt, I measured small, he measured small, they were convinced he was going to be Mr. or Ms. Tiny Small (though his 6 lb. 6 oz. birthweight put him on the small side of normal). And, not to be outdone by its older sibling, this baby has also appeared to be on the same course.

Until today. Today I measured right on - which I find fascinating, since up until now I've measured small enough that my doctor has done an ultrasound only to discover the baby is average - which might officially make me the largest pregnant lady I've ever been. And also? I've already gained as much weight as I did during Wyatt's pregnancy and there are 5+ weeks to go, so it can only go up from here, right? That, I have to say, is not too encouraging. I'm sure that last little factoid has nothing to do with my lack of exercise or the constant flow of baked goods through this house.

It's funny how different I feel this time; I never felt unlike myself with Wyatt's pregnancy. You know, just me, but hey! What's that thing making my belly button go flat? This time it's a different story. I feel encumbered. I feel like I'm waddling. I feel like this thing is in the way. I was stretching last night and found myself trying to figure out how to move that lump so I could bend in the direction of my choosing. Yeah, not so much luck with that one. I also no longer own enough yardage of clothing. Either my pants are too low or my shirts are too high and all too often I'm feeling a cool breeze across two or three inches of belly. Very attractive to passers-by, I'm sure.

Wyatt has taken to declaring, "hey! There's the baby!" every time he sees my belly. As if either one of us could forget. And I'm running out of lap for story time before bed. As I think back, that might be part of the reason he practically knocked over my sister when she read to him last week - there was just more room and he really enjoyed kicking back in all that space.

I'm not really complaining. This sure beats all the worry and stress of "your baby is really small and you're really small and if you come back in a week and everything looks the same we might induce you and you should have your bag packed and in the car for every appointment from here on out" that we went through with Wyatt. I'm just thinking that we might not be making a mad rush for preemie-sized clothing this go-around. We'll see!

Wyattisms

Things I've taken time to notice lately:

1. Wyatt doesn't say "because"; he says, "cabuh" or something similar.

2. Every time we pull into our driveway he announces that the garage door is a mouth. Only it comes out as "mowf".

3. He takes great pleasure in not sitting in his booster seat at the table anymore. He likes to sit on his knees and also really enjoys choosing which chair he'll grace with his presence for the coming meal.

4. He loves taking off his pajamas in the morning and then crawling into our armchair to "get cozy." Today he invited me to join him and we covered up with a blanket, then Millie hopped on top and we cuddled that way for a good 45 minutes while I read the paper and he watched tv. Sometimes I think he absolutely craves that kind of time together. He also took that opportunity (you know, with us both wedged into one chair) to hug me a million times, tell me he loves me, that we have a great family and that he can't wait to meet our baby. If even a tenth of it is true, we're good.

5. One of his favorite phrases is, "come see what I did!" Today it was that he'd stacked all the pillows in our bedroom on the couch. When I admired it from the doorway, he pulled my hand and said, "come see it closer!" This same exercise is repeated fairly frequently every day.

6. Today he helped "fold laundry" by grabbing each item from a stack of folded clothes, shaking it, and then tossing it in a laundry basket. He had so much fun 'helping' me that it was worth it.

7. He loves to ask, "what you doin' Mommy?" and then usually follows with, "what I doin' Mommy?"

8. He had his first smoothie today and thought it was pretty fantastic.

9. He can pick out many of his books by looking only at the spine on the bookshelf. I understand it when it's a book in high rotation (currently Stellaluna and The Maestro Plays) but was slightly surprised when he chose Ping last night off the top shelf and announced the name of the book before he'd actually removed it and seen the cover. Maybe he has a thing for fonts like his mom.

10. He looked at a 1.5" square headshot of Steelers coach Mike Tomlin in the paper and informed me that was football. I'm guessing it was the headset that clued him in, but it was a little baffling nonetheless.

11. He still insists he's having a sister (to the point that outsiders assume we, too, have confirmation of that fact) but if you press him to choose boy or girl, he'll often say it's a boy. Maybe he doesn't want to be disappointed?

12. I think we're off the hook for naming the baby Candy. Yesterday he informed me her name will be Addison and I think this just proves he thought we got to keep the baby Addison we watched for our friends last month.

13. Wherever we've been, once we're headed home he tells me that "Millie no get on the couch while we are gone. That's a bad idea." And he launches into that speech as soon as we walk in the door, even if Millie is still asleep in her own bed. As my mom pointed out, he just likes to be in charge of someone and poor Millie is his whipping girl.

14. If you call me on the phone you're likely to hear him in the background (rudely) shouting, "I need to talk to you!" FYI, he's talking to you, not me. As in, he'd like to be the one having the phone conversation. We're working on the manners.

15. One of his favorite phrases when talking to Jeff is, "I can't wait to see you, Daddy!" And then when Jeff says, "I can't wait to see you, either" Wyatt always replies with "no really, Daddy! I can't wait!" Maybe he thinks if he says it in all earnestness then Jeff will be home sooner.

16. He would happily go to Trader Joe's every. single. day.

17. He would happily go to Costco every. single. day. but only for the samples. He's a bit of a beggar for the samples.

18. I can tell when he's tired at night because he practically kicks me out of his room as I'm putting him to bed. You know, I'm all "I love you, Wyatt and I'll see you in the morning" and he replies with "close the door, Mommy." Or last night, I tucked him in and was busy drinking in his sweet face, praising him for being a good boy all day and telling him how lucky I am to have him as my kid, etc. when he interrupted me to demand his blessing and that I turn out the light.

19. If you ask him a "how" question (i.e. "how's your sandwich" or "how are you feeling?"), he interprets it as a yes/no. So you ask how and he says yes. It's a tad confusing.

20. We have not entered the "why?" stage, but are firmly in the grips of the why nots. And sometimes it comes out as "why not we do dat, Mommy?" Which I like to turn back to him and then he'll say, "cabuh it's a bad idea."