I just don't like it when it's someone else's birthday

Yesterday our little Natalie turned two. It was a big deal - to everyone except her. Adorably innocent, she didn't know what a birthday was and had no idea how old she was (though that part might run in the family). She waited patiently to open her presents. She was thrilled with her alphabet outfit from Grandma Tractor and gasped when she saw her new Cabbage Patch Kid. She's precious and very funny and we all had a sweet day.

Except for big brother, who couldn't appreciate what we were appreciating. None of the gifts were for him? It wasn't his birthday? Can't he just have a balloon? Or a new toy? Why is it not his birthday? What am I getting him for his birthday? Such moanings were ringing in my ears all day. I'm sure it's hard to be 4 and to know what birthdays are and to see a big stack of presents that are ALL for someone else. (Though he later learned there was one hidden up there for him, it did little to satisfy his inner turmoil.) But his persistence was exhausting.

Natalie has turned into one of the most charming little things I've ever seen. She's strong, sweet, funny, loving and provokes her brother all day. She'll spend 30 minutes playing in running water at the kitchen sink - "Need wash my hands," she'll say. "Need soap, Mom. My hand, right here." She prefers to wear a shiny blue cape and run around as "SuperNat". She likes to color, breaking at least one crayon each time. And she loves food. Candy in particular. We have a vintage cloth book called something like My Pocket Book with a variety of real pockets sewn into each page. I showed her how to use the book by putting buttons, candy and tiny things in the pockets. She never forgot about the candy. Now she brings me that book almost every day. "Need candy, Mom." What's a mom to do? I give her candy. Annie's organic fruit gummies. It's still a dose of diabetes, but it's ORGANIC diabetes.

In other news, we are getting ready to welcome a third tiny person to our family in August. I'm delightfully nauseated as I write this, eating a KIND bar at 12:30 a.m. to stave off the pukes. Pregnancy is pretty awful. Though, since this is likely my last pregnancy, I made the decision today to try to enjoy it. That should be easier next trimester. I still get random flashes of jealousy when I see men engaged in their daily doings. Men, who can never get pregnant. Men, who can never fathom the long-term disability of pregnancy. Men, who don't understand why when their pregnant wife asks them to buy PHILADELPHIA CREAM CHEESE AND ONLY PHILADELPHIA CREAM CHEESE they must not bat an eye at the price or notice the off-brand offerings. We are not eating that. Forget about it.

Sam knows about the new baby and is anxiously awaiting his/her arrival. Today he made the baby a large collection of tiny pink balls of Play Doh. He considered it his work and took it seriously. He thinks they will really please the baby. He was not impressed when I stuck some of them on the frame of my glasses.

This is life and we are living it. Rather nauseously, and often at decibels believed to be humanly impossible. Please come over.

The nightly naked

Baby girl has a pretty erratic schedule but one thing is regular these days: the nightly naked. That's when she squawks and complains about her clothes at night, pulling on them and shrieking until you finally help her remove them. She spends the last few hours of each day wearing only a diaper. Thankfully, her diapers have Mickey Mouse on them these days, so there's no reason to not love them (from her perspective). She never complains about being cold. Just don't you dare try to put a shirt on her!

Three books Sam is working on

I believe my boy could be a budding author. He's got a sparkling imagination and a trillion things to say. Here are three book titles I foresee in his future:

500 Reasons I Can't Do What You're Asking - A non-comprehensive list of entirely valid excuses for disobedience.

I'll Take What She's Got - A study on jealousy. That pink comb didn't mean a thing to me until sister picked it up, but it means everything now!!!

Let's Talk About Volcanoes (All The Time) - How hot is lava? Why is it so hot? What is lava made from? What are volcanoes made of? Why do they erupt? What would happen if you ate lava? Do volcanoes belch? What does belch mean? All this and more.

I'm pretty sure he was doing research for his 500 Reasons book in church today when I asked him to take a nap. Here's what that conversation was like:

Me: Lay down now and take a nap.

Sam: But I don't want to take a nap.

Me: It's nap time. So lay down and take a nap.

Sam: I'm not tired, so I can't sleep.

Me: Lay down, close your eyes, and sleep.

Sam: I don't have enough energy to sleep.

Me: Take a nap anyway. It is nap time.

Sam: But the lights are on and I can't sleep with the lights on.

Me: Close your eyes and sleep.

He fell asleep a few minutes later, getting in a 30-minute nap before church ended. His eyes flew open when noise woke him after the final prayer, and he quickly announced "I didn't sleep. I wasn't tired so I didn't sleep."

Sure. Sure.

Bestseller material! Pre-order your copy today!

Notes on Natalie

My funny little princess is nearly 19 months old and she is amazing! She began speaking in sentences at the end of July - sweet little sentences like "I need hep!" or "Where go?" Yesterday she said "I duhdee" - I'm thirsty. Today Natalie saw Sam hiding under his bed covers and said "I tee you, Tam." It made Sam and I laugh.

Natalie loves Elmo - so much that she even rescues dirty diapers from the trash if she spots an Elmo on them. That's just what everyone needs.

I love to squeeze her. I pick her up and hug her tight, saying "Squeeeeze her! Squeeze her!" I did that yesterday and, for the first time, she squeezed me back. As tight as she could! It was precious. I think I will always remember how that felt.

Poor baby has been struggling with constipation since Thanksgiving 2014. We have taken her to the doctor several times, and they advise it is common. We keep her on miralax and give her fruits, veggies and foods that have as much fiber as she can stand. But let's face it, she's 19 months old and she wants cheese. We can be very thankful that she still likes blueberries and watermelon.

I took the kids on a trip to Michigan for two weeks, beginning at the end of July. Natalie was a wild animal on the airplane rides. We met a very kind stranger - a father to four daughters - on the way home who helped with her. 

In Michigan, Sam and Natalie got a lot of outdoor time. We went to the lake four times and I learned that Natalie is not a fan of large bodies of water. She clings like a monkey. Oddly, Sam was far braver in the water than she was. I'd have lost a lot of money on that bet.

We found a giant Elmo in the thrift store in Newberry. It was 50 cents and nearly as tall as her. It was ours immediately. Sometimes Natalie lays on him like a pillow.

Grandma and Grandpa Tractor loved our visit. They were wonderful, doting grandparents. I treasured having my children on what will always feel like my true home. Auntie Becca and Uncle Bill were there briefly, too, and we had a big family reunion with people from my father's side. That was special.

In other news, Natalie is just beautiful. She's very funny and very smart. She seems small for her age. Her hair is getting long and curls at the end. She has ten teeth - six on top, including two molars, and four on the bottom with just one molar there. She still loves her tummy, though she doesn't touch it as often as she once did. I often find myself staring at her...I just adore her!

A strange line of questioning

"Momma, do lines last forever?" Sam asked.

I thought this a very strange question. Wanting to be patient and kind, I thought for a second, and then said, "They might. If a line is drawn with a pen, it lasts forever. But a line drawn with a pencil can be erased, so it doesn't last forever."

I was pretty impressed with my coherent answer. I mean, there are so many kinds of lines. Lines on a highway. Contrails in the sky. Checkout lines at the store. Wrinkle lines on my face. And I picked one good kind of lines, and gave a good answer. Rock it, Mom.

But Sam looked worried. 

"A pen lasts forever?" he asked.

"Yes, a line from a pen can last forever."

"Is this a pen?" He asked, holding up one of my pens.

"Yes, that is a pen," I said.

"Are you sure it isn't a pencil?" he asked.

By now, I am quite suspicious.

"Sam, did you draw a line somewhere with that pen?" I asked.

He shook his head, no.

"Are you sure? I think you might have. Was it an accident? Did you draw a line somewhere by accident?" 

"No," he said.

Steve is listening by now. I mouthed to Steve "I think he drew on something and he's afraid he'll get in trouble."

I searched the walls and furniture, but I could find no errant lines.

"Are you sure you didn't draw a line somewhere?" Steve said. "It's ok, if you tell me. You won't get in trouble."

Sam maintained his innocence. I kept up the search for ink, and then I noticed Sam was leaning quite intently against the arm of the couch. I forcibly moved him and noticed a two-inch line of ink on side of the couch. He was horrified, and very nervous. 

It felt good to extend mercy instead of scolding and punishing. The ink came out with just a wet washcloth. The couch has been treated with some stain preventer. Aside from hot pink nail polish, nothing has been able to stain our couch.

"Next time, tell us," we said. 

Though I am sure I never want to hear him say "Mom, does marker last forever?"

 

Gig-a-boo

Gig-a-boo! [giggle]

Gig-a-boo! [giggle]

Ah! I get it! My baby is playing peek-a-boo! She's so funny! She is thrilled that I know what she's doing. She understands so many words and complex sentences, and has a long list of words she manages to say. But sometimes I still don't know what I'm hearing.

"See it see it?!" is how she asks what something is. Then I tell her, and she gives me a quick, grave nod of understanding. It's one of my favorite things that I've ever seen. 

For example:

"See it see it?!" she'll say, tapping the door to my shower.

"Shower," I respond. And she waits. "You'd get wet in there." She nods - a deep nod that nearly makes her chin touch her chest. It. Is. So. Cute!!!

WHAT I REALLY WANT FOR MOTHER'S DAY

OK, listen up. I'm going to be very frank here.

I want a whole bunch of stuff for Mother's Day and I want it in this order.

First, I want to sleep in and wake up when I feel like it. Just once. Just for Mother's Day. Just please.

Then, I want to use the bathroom by myself, and get in the shower and be clean. I want to emerge when I feel like it. Not because anyone has pooped or anyone is crying or anyone can't find their blue caterpillar toy.

Third, I do not want my kids to be sick. Ever again. But if we could start with not being sick on Mother's Day, we'll go with that.

Fourth, I want $100 and a solo trip to Barnes & Noble. Solo. This is non-negotiable. I want everyone to understand that Barnes & Noble is situated in the mall. If I wander from book heaven into the mall and come back with an ice cream, or a tank top, or a pair of aqua loafers, but none of it is for you, this is fine. Nobody panic. I'm still Mom and I still love you.

Please allot approximately four hours for these tasks. During this time, I do not want to hear ANY WHINING AT ALL. And no crying. And please for the love of humanity, nobody fall down and get hurt. Please send your requests for food, drinks, or that toy that sister has, straight to Daddy. He will be happy to assist you.

After these terms have been met, I want you, my dear children, to know that I am totally grateful. I love you LIKE CRAZY and would sever my own appendages, run into a burning house, or apprehend a team of schoolyard bullies to keep you safe, make you happy, and ensure we have many, many more Mother's Days to spend together. I count my children as my greatest blessings and would never want to live a day without them.

But I think four hours is reasonable.