A Bundle of Mischief
5, 3, 1. I could just stop here and those numbers would explain it all. We are at the why, why, why, no, no, no, explore everything stages with our kids. Why + no = my common response to all of it: "I have no idea why that fencepost around the fox exhibit at the zoo has a dot of red paint on it. How did you even see that?" Or..."Why, no, you can't wear your Crocs in the snow." Or "No! Why do you insist on teething on the electrical cords?"
I'm a one-woman fire brigade these days, putting out spats between sisters and breaking up K's parties in the bathroom with the TP and the toilet bowl water and cleaning up the environmental hazards that are A's didn't-make-it-to-the-bathroom accidents. I could go on.
Suffice it to say, I have what my mom calls the "deer in the headlights look" most days. And sometimes all I can do in response to it all is stand in the swirling, whirling mess of it and scratch my head, or in a moment of midnight madness, run into the bathroom and let out a long aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! before returning to comfort my three-year-old who was having a tantrum on the playroom floor at 3:00 a.m. because Mark got her a cup of water instead of me.
Seriously. I didn't sign up for this part.
Well, I did, by default. I just wasn't prepared for it.
So, on this Saturday morning I am relishing the quiet hour that holds a small boy and a cup of coffee and a March snow outside my window. It's snowing on the daffodils. The contrast of white on green and yellow is enough take your breath away. K, whose third tooth is interfering with sleep lately, is exploring the playroom (chewing on the occasional computer cord) without the interference of bossy sisters. Every once in a while he crawls to my chair and chatters in baby-speak, nodding his head and bouncing on sturdy legs to tell me, "bababababa, dadadada, mama!" I couldn't have said it better myself. He loves nothing more than to turn on his smile and let out a fake guffaw to make me laugh. One little look from me is all it takes to set that boy into a stream of giggles. Pick him up and he'll gift you with a slobbery kiss and a snuggle.
A quick update before I sign off for the weekend. (The natives have woken.)
We attended E's preschool art show at a local senior center this week. The artists wore special T-shirts and proudly displayed their creations ranging from still life paintings of dessert to colored sand art, collages, and stained glass "windows." It was good fun.
A keeps us on our toes with continued potty training woes and a strong will to beat the patience out of any long-suffering parent. Affectionate one moment and prickly the next, we never know what to expect from that one. We're working hard to learn her better through all the trials--what motivates her, what makes her feel loved, what brings her joy. We conclude that we have no idea. This we have learned: She loves praise but get too enthusiastic and it elicits a grumpy humph. She wants to feel big like E, so she's responding well to "helping" mom with K or in the kitchen. Little tasks where she gets to play the big sister role make her feel like an important part of the family. She loves undivided attention, which is hard to come by in our house. But I'm working on making the space for that quality time she craves. When I do, our days go much better.
K is a bundle of mischief wrapped up in cute. We're adjusting to the new therapy schedule and he seems to be thriving from the extra one-on-one. I love watching his new therapists learn him. The speech pathologist gets so excited when something "works." I bite my tongue, trying not to brag that he's been making that sign for weeks now. But she'll figure him out the same way we have--by spending time with him and discovering his boundless energy and curiosity. His pool therapist looked skeptical during our first session when he screamed the full half hour. I promised her it was an off day and it would get better, but of course, every parent says that. The next week the whole family went in the pool, too, and K had the time of his life--all his favorite people around him, water to splash in, and a new friend. This past week she was won over, "I can't believe it! He does whatever I prompt him to. He really does enjoy this. What a change!" And I just smile and keep it all in my head, Yep. That's just him. You'll see. Continuing to defy expectations, he is signing a few important signs --all done, more, and mama--and saying a few important words. This morning in our bed he rolled over to Mark, climbed up on him, and exclaimed, "Dada!" We were told kids like K speak between the ages of two and four. At fourteen months he has three words under his belt and more on the way--Mama, Dada, and more, which sounds like moe. I love hearing his raspy little boy voice make speech sounds. Love. it.
And a final update on Mark and I and our "Living with Less" project: While I was in NH with friend Mandy having a girls' retreat, Mark cleaned the basement last weekend and it took him 11 hours. He stopped to take care of the girls and feed and put them to bed, of course, but after a day of labor our basement is actually usable again. I came home to a path of paper stars the kids made that led all the way down to the great surprise. We have three piles to sort through and give away and a pile of already sorted stuff ready to give away. It's manageable and clean and organized down there and I can't wait to purge all the unnecessary stuff that's still eating our space. Tackling a more mama friendly mini project, I cleaned my closet and dresser and purged lots of clothes I never wear. Both are usable again and a new laundry shoot in the closet floor keeps things much neater and the never ending chore of doing laundry more manageable. Now that there's more room in my closet, it was more than tempting to fill it up again on a trip to my favorite store last weekend, but I fought the urge and handed my clothes to the cashier at the last minute, "I've changed my mind." I walked out empty handed and it felt so light, like a weight off my shoulders, or rather a bag off my arm. I didn't expect to feel so good about giving up something I'd really wanted.
Finally, after a great weekend away in NH with my dear friend Mandy and another great weekend before that at the MDSC annual conference, Mark and I have decided to tackle a project of our own--starting a support group for families of children with Down syndrome. There's a handful of new families in our area facing the same journey we are and I think we could all help each other. We'll see what happens. We're hoping to host two events in the next six months or so. Plans are on the table, and we're excited to see what fruit they'll yield in our lives and in our community. More uncharted territory. I get excited every time I think about it.
That's all for us. Happy, happy weekend to you and you and you.
I'm a one-woman fire brigade these days, putting out spats between sisters and breaking up K's parties in the bathroom with the TP and the toilet bowl water and cleaning up the environmental hazards that are A's didn't-make-it-to-the-bathroom accidents. I could go on.
Suffice it to say, I have what my mom calls the "deer in the headlights look" most days. And sometimes all I can do in response to it all is stand in the swirling, whirling mess of it and scratch my head, or in a moment of midnight madness, run into the bathroom and let out a long aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! before returning to comfort my three-year-old who was having a tantrum on the playroom floor at 3:00 a.m. because Mark got her a cup of water instead of me.
Seriously. I didn't sign up for this part.
Well, I did, by default. I just wasn't prepared for it.
So, on this Saturday morning I am relishing the quiet hour that holds a small boy and a cup of coffee and a March snow outside my window. It's snowing on the daffodils. The contrast of white on green and yellow is enough take your breath away. K, whose third tooth is interfering with sleep lately, is exploring the playroom (chewing on the occasional computer cord) without the interference of bossy sisters. Every once in a while he crawls to my chair and chatters in baby-speak, nodding his head and bouncing on sturdy legs to tell me, "bababababa, dadadada, mama!" I couldn't have said it better myself. He loves nothing more than to turn on his smile and let out a fake guffaw to make me laugh. One little look from me is all it takes to set that boy into a stream of giggles. Pick him up and he'll gift you with a slobbery kiss and a snuggle.
A quick update before I sign off for the weekend. (The natives have woken.)
We attended E's preschool art show at a local senior center this week. The artists wore special T-shirts and proudly displayed their creations ranging from still life paintings of dessert to colored sand art, collages, and stained glass "windows." It was good fun.
A keeps us on our toes with continued potty training woes and a strong will to beat the patience out of any long-suffering parent. Affectionate one moment and prickly the next, we never know what to expect from that one. We're working hard to learn her better through all the trials--what motivates her, what makes her feel loved, what brings her joy. We conclude that we have no idea. This we have learned: She loves praise but get too enthusiastic and it elicits a grumpy humph. She wants to feel big like E, so she's responding well to "helping" mom with K or in the kitchen. Little tasks where she gets to play the big sister role make her feel like an important part of the family. She loves undivided attention, which is hard to come by in our house. But I'm working on making the space for that quality time she craves. When I do, our days go much better.
K is a bundle of mischief wrapped up in cute. We're adjusting to the new therapy schedule and he seems to be thriving from the extra one-on-one. I love watching his new therapists learn him. The speech pathologist gets so excited when something "works." I bite my tongue, trying not to brag that he's been making that sign for weeks now. But she'll figure him out the same way we have--by spending time with him and discovering his boundless energy and curiosity. His pool therapist looked skeptical during our first session when he screamed the full half hour. I promised her it was an off day and it would get better, but of course, every parent says that. The next week the whole family went in the pool, too, and K had the time of his life--all his favorite people around him, water to splash in, and a new friend. This past week she was won over, "I can't believe it! He does whatever I prompt him to. He really does enjoy this. What a change!" And I just smile and keep it all in my head, Yep. That's just him. You'll see. Continuing to defy expectations, he is signing a few important signs --all done, more, and mama--and saying a few important words. This morning in our bed he rolled over to Mark, climbed up on him, and exclaimed, "Dada!" We were told kids like K speak between the ages of two and four. At fourteen months he has three words under his belt and more on the way--Mama, Dada, and more, which sounds like moe. I love hearing his raspy little boy voice make speech sounds. Love. it.
And a final update on Mark and I and our "Living with Less" project: While I was in NH with friend Mandy having a girls' retreat, Mark cleaned the basement last weekend and it took him 11 hours. He stopped to take care of the girls and feed and put them to bed, of course, but after a day of labor our basement is actually usable again. I came home to a path of paper stars the kids made that led all the way down to the great surprise. We have three piles to sort through and give away and a pile of already sorted stuff ready to give away. It's manageable and clean and organized down there and I can't wait to purge all the unnecessary stuff that's still eating our space. Tackling a more mama friendly mini project, I cleaned my closet and dresser and purged lots of clothes I never wear. Both are usable again and a new laundry shoot in the closet floor keeps things much neater and the never ending chore of doing laundry more manageable. Now that there's more room in my closet, it was more than tempting to fill it up again on a trip to my favorite store last weekend, but I fought the urge and handed my clothes to the cashier at the last minute, "I've changed my mind." I walked out empty handed and it felt so light, like a weight off my shoulders, or rather a bag off my arm. I didn't expect to feel so good about giving up something I'd really wanted.
Finally, after a great weekend away in NH with my dear friend Mandy and another great weekend before that at the MDSC annual conference, Mark and I have decided to tackle a project of our own--starting a support group for families of children with Down syndrome. There's a handful of new families in our area facing the same journey we are and I think we could all help each other. We'll see what happens. We're hoping to host two events in the next six months or so. Plans are on the table, and we're excited to see what fruit they'll yield in our lives and in our community. More uncharted territory. I get excited every time I think about it.
That's all for us. Happy, happy weekend to you and you and you.