Smashed potatoes and peas

For the second year in a row, Logan has requested "smashed" potatoes and peas for his birthday dinner. I think I'll file that under Not Normal, and also Adorable. I expected a request for pizza, or perhaps McD's (Big Ron's Steakhouse), but nope...potatoes and peas is what we're having.

Last year, I asked him about his birthday request a few days before his birthday, and that night I made green beans with dinner. When he saw his plate, he protested, "I wanted circle peas, not rectangle peas!" (Also filed under Adorable, p.s.)

Even though his birthday's not until tomorrow, we'll be celebrating at our house tonight since he'll be at Ed's tomorrow night. I took him to pick out his cake from the store last week and he chose a spider cake, which I'm not thrilled about since it comes with a ginormous plastic spider on top. But I did tell him to pick what he wanted so I couldn't really say no. Next year, I'll add a "no creepies" clause.


"Five years ago today" (and all that crap)...

We were spending the day in the hospital, having an amnio done (unpleasant watching that long, long needle poke into your belly, btw), and preparing for the impending arrival of LP. I really wanted to have an October baby so I felt ok about being admitted the night of the 30th with the plan of Logan removal the next morning. Little did we know things wouldn't go as anticipated and instead of having a leisurely birth the next morning (ha!), it was to be a middle-of-the-night affair in which Logan was pulled out in the wee hours of the morning, barely an October boy.

The conversation with the nurse before we went to the operating room went a little something like this (I'll sum up for time, and please keep in mind that I was heavily sedated) -

Nurse: So, every time you're having a contraction, the baby's heart rate is dropping. That's not good. We're going to have to do a c-section instead of following through with the induction as planned. Your doctor has been notified.
Me: Oooookaaaay, so what time will he be here in the morning?
Nurse, giving me a confused look: Um, he's on his way. He'll be here in about 10 minutes.
Me, all of a sudden noticing the flurry of hospital staff doing various things to and around me: Oh.

About that time, Ed walked up to me, dressed in the scrubs they'd given him. The shirt was about 2 sizes too small, so he had the uncanny look of a stuffed sausage and was moving fairly stiffly. The nurse took a glance at him and quickly went to get him a more comfortably sized top. We didn't really have time to panic or worry too much, because we were off to the OR shortly after. The c-section itself was fairly uneventful except for the fact that the doctors spent their time talking about golf or cars or Things Doctors Talk About Other Than Doctoring which gave me the distinct sensation that my c-section was not nearly as big a deal to them as it was to me, and when they pulled Logan out of my body, they loudly counted one...two...three as they unwrapped the umbilical cord from around his neck. As it turns out a cord around your neck three times can inhibit your breathing during contractions.

After he was born, Ed went to see Logan get cleaned up and came back to me on the operating table, excitedly telling me that the boy was just perfect with ten fingers and ten toes and red hair (which I was not expecting). Unfortunately I was pretty drugged up, focused mostly on how Ed looked with the surgical mask on his face and how it made a perfect tent over his mouth because of how it unfolded, so my first words after the birth of Logan were to Ed saying, "You look like a duck."

People talking on bananas...

One of the writers I work with runs the People Talking on Bananas blog. Today, the boys were featured.

Randoms

Logan yesterday told me he didn't want to go to school anymore. I asked him why, and he said, "They make me learn things. And I don't think I need to learn anything else."

Last night Logan was adjusting his crotchal region, and I asked if he needed to use the bathroom. His response: "No, these just keep sticking to my legs. Chris is a boy, he knows what that's about." I looked at Chris, who shrugged and said the kid's got a point.

This morning the boys had baths before we left for school and such. Declan got out, and shivered his way down the hall, saying, "I'm so cold. The wind keeps getting me!" While he was getting dressed, he gave me a recap of last night: "I ate my dinner, and then I had PIE! It was bananas and cream. It was AWESOME!"

Maclaine and me boys

(This is repost. I put it up about a week ago and had an error in the coding, so I deleted it and have just now gotten around to getting it back up.)


I think one of the greatest compliments a parent can receive is that other people like your kids. I have a lot of mom friends, and our general consensus is - embarassingly enough - that we don't like other people's children. My theory is that the closer you are to the parent, the better their kids look to you. Because when I'm out and about, random kids at grocery stores and in restaurants annoy the crap out of me. And boy, oh boy, have we been that loud, screechy, annoying family at times.

Anyway, over the past weekend, my BFF Maclaine was here for one of her beloved and not-frequent-enough visits. My boys adore her, and they were so excited that she was going to stay at our house. (Incidentally, she has a priceless blackmail-worthy photo from last year's visit of Logan wearing nothing but a mismatched pair of my socks while Dex is on the couch laughing and giving the thumbs up.)

Declan of course struggles with the pronunciation of her name. He calls her "Baquain" or maybe "Baqueen" and I can't quite tell the difference, but I'm sure it's the same thing he calls Lightning McQueen. [Sidenote: Logan had the same pronunciation problem for a while, and not long after she visited us last year, I giggled when I heard him patting his legs and calling Maclaine to come play with him. And then I felt hilariously foolish when I realized he was calling his McQueen boombox (that he was pretending to be a dog) to come play with him. Declan, ever the obedient little brother, played the stagehand for the boombox and trotted it down the hall for Logan. End sidenote.] This year, however, Logan had his pronunciation of Maclaine down pat and was sure to explain the difference between Maclaine and McQueen to Declan, who then kept on keepin' on with the Baquain/Baqueenness of his 3 year old tongue.

ANYWAY, Maclaine came to visit. And we loved it. And we loved her. And when it was all said and done she loves my kids. She listened to them sing along (loudly) to various Barenaked Ladies songs. Declan greeted her the first morning with an excited, "Are you leaving today?!" Declan sat on the other end of the couch she was sleeping on, stole her blanket, and pushed her out of the way with his feet because she was too close to his relaxation station. Logan woke her up (and the rest of the house) with his midnight vomiting travels. She heard them throw little tantrums about who the heck knows what, saw them make the messes they make, heard some whining and laughing and everything in between. And through it all, she still loves them. That makes me feel happy.

Is it a guy thing?

Logan has been going through a rough patch lately, with a few changes and struggles happening in his life. We've spent some time talking about things, and a couple of times he's started crying in the middle of telling me what's up. He's said to me, "I don't like this water that's coming from my eyes" as he's wiped his tears away and made a visible effort to stop crying. (Talk about heartbreaking Mom moments.)

I don't think there's anyone in his life who would have made him feel like crying is an inappropriate way to deal with his feelings. I'm sure he'll pick up on plenty of that in time, with the macho man world in which we live. We talk sometimes about how he doesn't need to cry about certain things, like when Dex takes the crayon Logan wants or if Logan drops a Chalupa on the floor. But when it comes to physical pain or hurt feelings, there is no one who would think of telling him to suck it up and not cry. So it's interesting to me to see him try to hold it back, or make such an effort to stop it after it starts.

Of course, crying in and of itself is not pleasant. And maybe all it is, rather than any desire on his part to be more masculine, is a desire to not be a goopy mess. But I guess that's the really interesting thing to me – he just doesn't like to do it, and I suspect that before he gets too much older he'll have trained himself to not cry as an emotional response. That thought makes me a little sad. The image of the stoic, incapable-of-crying man is so cold and … lacking something. Not that Logan is necessarily headed in that direction specifically.

Perhaps I just don't understand what boys go through in their childhood, adolescence, ascent to manhood? Alright, there's really no "perhaps" about it. Logan is my first observation of baby to toddler to boy (and in time, beyond), and maybe he's just reaching an age where he recognizes crying as crying rather than a way to get what he wants. Declan's certainly not there yet. By the sound of it, he's regularly dropping Chalupas.

I'd ask Chris and Ed about this, but my hunch is that both of them will claim they've never cried a day in their lives. Wieners.

Things I Want to Remember

(Alissa, I totally started a draft of this before I saw your exact same post. I'm not copying! I promise!)


Logan dances by moving his shoulders; Declan dances by moving his hips.


Fingers are thingers.


"[Gasp!] We need a grab-nabber!" - Declan, trying to provide a solution to a problem, after perhaps too many episodes of Little Einsteins (called Rocket around here)


Declan wears "slip slops" and a "slimming suit". His favorite Backyardigan is "Plablo". He and Logan are "bludders".


[Chris was serving milkshakes he made as a special treat for the family on Sunday.]
Logan: Why are you full of ice cream?
Chris, confused: What?! I'm not.
Logan: But Mommy said you were full of it!


My kids are singers. Since Declan was teeny tiny, he has sung himself to sleep. He'll sing a song if you ask (and he's not grumpass at the moment). He will make anything into a song, if it suits the moment (I've heard songs about making sandwiches, or getting blankets, or bathtime, etc.). Sometimes Logan joins in with his own musical version of Declan's lyrics, or with the instrumental part while Dex sings the words. Logan has also been known to make up theme songs for his various superhero creations, or sometimes a soundtrack while we're driving around on errands.


Yesterday I overheard Logan tell Declan that it was ok to tell Mommy when you have an accident because she'll just say it's ok and help you take care of it.
(Honestly, that made me feel so good to know that he feels he can come to me with his current biggest problem instead of needing to hide it. I've tried to reinforce the idea that he can talk to me about anything and we'll figure it out, and I guess it's working.)


The other night before bed, I checked on the boys. I leaned in over Declan to whisper the things I usually whisper to them in the middle of the night and in his sleep he reached up, grabbed me around my neck with one arm, and pulled me down to lay my head on his pillow with him.


As I was tucking Logan in bed a few nights ago, I told him he made my heart happy and he asked for what? I said that it was just because I love who he is and I'm glad he's my son. He smiled this big smile, closed his eyes, and did a little dance as I walked out of the room. I will never forget the way he looked in that moment and the way I felt, as I was walking away, that I filled his little heart with happiness.

Chris overheard at dinner

"Use your mouth for eating, not talking.
[giggling]
Or laughing.
[other giggling]
Or making your brother laugh."

"Stop looking at each other and eat."

"Get your feet off that chair.
The chair is not a toy.
Do I have to come sit on that chair between you guys so you won't play with it?
[sound of the chair being knocked back and forth]
[sound of Chris trying to sit threateningly in the chair]
Fine, now eat."

When Logan asked how much more he had to eat to earn some ice cream:
"Everything on your plate. No more of this 'how many bites stuff'...you've riled up Chris now, the big dog. You're not playing with Mom anymore! In fact, I'm gonna set this timer right here and you better start eating and finish up before the time runs out or you're not getting any ice cream.
[pause]
Don't choke."

Stubborns

Declan has a teensy stubborn streak. I use "teensy" loosely; I really mean "astronomical" or perhaps "ginormous". I adore that kid perhaps in spite of, perhaps because of, the fact that he is the incarnation of every mother's I-hope-you-have-a-kid-just-like-you-someday curse that can only come about in the frustrating moments where not one damn thing they've said has gotten through our thick skulls.

This is my Dex.

He looks like me, only more boy. His eyelashes make women envious, and his eyes themselves – they're this gorgeous dark hazel mixture of colors. He has a cleft in his chin that makes my heart melt, and a smile that has brightened up some of my darkest days.

Beyond the looks, he harbors quite the personality. He's generally a pleasure to have around. His laugh is contagious, and he has this wide-eyed look on his face that makes it seem like he is just thrilled to be alive and in your presence. Declan is excited about life, and he somehow manages to push this on to me, and I think the rest of our household.

And then there's the flip side. He has what I call a light-switch personality. He will flip on you in a second. Don't get comfortable in his laughter and cuddles because before you know it, he'll turn right around and be the grumpiest grumpass you ever saw. And don't fret when he's in the depths of those grumps because if you find the right button, he'll instantly light up and forget about whatever it was that had him down.

Sometimes I feel like I'm looking at a picture of myself when I see him. I know I've seen photographs of me around his age, with the same defiantly crossed arms and through-the-eyelashes scowl that he gives when he's just not getting his way. He'll push that bottom lip out farther than you think it can go. Amy's started telling him that if he pouts, a bird will poop on his lip. This doesn't give him any reason to pull the lip back in, he'll just cover it up with his hand and continue to pout the Declan pout, communicating his immense displeasure with the moment (see below).



This curmudgeon-like phase has little verbal exchange beyond punctuated "No!" and "I don't want to!" grumblings. However, it is jam-packed with grunts and angry fists that punch at his side or leg to drive home the point that he is not pleased.

I adore him, and I've learned a big lesson when it comes to dealing with him: don't push, don't pull, just tell him where you want him to go and wait. I remember being a kid and feeling the stubborn inside me. I remember sometimes wanting the choice, rather than being told what to choose. There have been many times recently that I've told him something like, "I want you to make good choices, and it would be a good choice to do xyz" and then turned back to whatever it is I was doing. Very quickly, I've found him happily off doing whatever it was that I was attempting to coerce him into only moments before.

He most assuredly wants to make us all happy, he just wants everything to be his idea. And I'm ok with that, because I want him to be happy, too.