Happy crawlers - Xander left, Sawyer right. Their first trip to the beach at 11 months. (Christmas 2006)
Friday, January 9, 2009
Photo Flashback
Happy crawlers - Xander left, Sawyer right. Their first trip to the beach at 11 months. (Christmas 2006)
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Post Script
Clearly, we bring out the best in our son (see post below).
Today at preschool, I happened to be at the end of the line picking Connor up from class. It was purposeful, as the twins have not been to school since early December. Daddy's schedule, combined with the cold weather, means he has dropped off and picked up Connor so far this week.
But this afternoon, it was our turn. And that narrow hallway with all those people and all of that noise does not bring out the best in either of our twins. Sawyer typically covers his ears with his hands and kicks at the wall, attempting to push the stroller back toward the door (and freedom). Xander just gets agitated because he wants to get down from the double stroller and run around - so not a good idea. His reaction to not being allowed down is usually to hit his twin brother on top of the head repeatedly (no idea why, but so it goes every single time we go to school).
But, I digress.
So, we were at the end of the line when Miss Julie called Connor to the door for dismissal. He was proudly carrying a sheet of Thomas the Tank stickers, grinning up at me. Miss Julie also smiles and tells me that his good behavior in class today warranted the stickers, that he was polite and well-behaved and even talked quite a bit during circle share time (when they talk about their daily show-and-tell items). My son. He was well-behaved. All morning.
So, clearly it's us and not him.
Today at preschool, I happened to be at the end of the line picking Connor up from class. It was purposeful, as the twins have not been to school since early December. Daddy's schedule, combined with the cold weather, means he has dropped off and picked up Connor so far this week.
But this afternoon, it was our turn. And that narrow hallway with all those people and all of that noise does not bring out the best in either of our twins. Sawyer typically covers his ears with his hands and kicks at the wall, attempting to push the stroller back toward the door (and freedom). Xander just gets agitated because he wants to get down from the double stroller and run around - so not a good idea. His reaction to not being allowed down is usually to hit his twin brother on top of the head repeatedly (no idea why, but so it goes every single time we go to school).
But, I digress.
So, we were at the end of the line when Miss Julie called Connor to the door for dismissal. He was proudly carrying a sheet of Thomas the Tank stickers, grinning up at me. Miss Julie also smiles and tells me that his good behavior in class today warranted the stickers, that he was polite and well-behaved and even talked quite a bit during circle share time (when they talk about their daily show-and-tell items). My son. He was well-behaved. All morning.
So, clearly it's us and not him.
Smart Mouth
It was late and not one of the boys had taken an afternoon nap (or been put in their rooms for a little quiet time). They were all tired, but it was a bit too early for bed unless we wanted to be up with the sun. The boys had been fed, Super Why had been turned on, and Josh and I were trying to sit down for our late dinner. The little guys were happily dancing in front of the big screen. Connor, not so much.
He joined us at the table, taking the only other open chair without a booster seat, the one right next to Mommy. He started running his toy cars on the table, half laying on the table himself. He knew this wasn't allowed. He knew this drove Mommy crazy, especially when she's trying to eat in peace. He did it anyway.
"Connor, please don't lay on the table."
"I not," he said, completely lying and completely unconcerned.
"Connor, please get off the table."
No response, and no movement, other than continuing to run his cars across the table.
"Connor," Daddy warned.
Again, no compliance. Daddy set his fork down, got up, picked Connor up from his position of still half-laying on the table and put him in the time-out chair (one of two old, outgrown car seats in a little alcove under the steps). Immediate tears and pitifulness ensue. Once that winds down, he begins hopping and moving around - not enough to technically be out of the time-out area, but enough to be testing his limits.
"Connor, sit still." I warned, so very tired of the smart mouth and boundary testing of late.
"No!" he screamed, always more confident when he's out of direct sight lines.
"Connor, you don't tell Mommy no." I said, more calmly than usual because I was simply too tired to battle last night.
"No!" he screamed again.
"If you say it again, you'll go straight to bed. No bath, no books. Straight to bed." I warned.
"No," he said, simply and quietly, almost as soon as I finished my last word.
My fork hit my plate and the chair moved back. The tears began immediately. He knew that Mommy was not joking. He knew it all along. Mommy picked him up from the chair, holding him around his waist and tucking him over my hip (there would be no hugging or cuddling on this trip up stairs). He was set down in front of the bathroom and ordered to potty before bed. For once, he didn't dare talk back. He went potty, crying the whole time. He was marched into his room, stripped and redressed into pajamas, and tucked into bed. The door closed quickly and quietly behind me. Tears and screaming follow me down the hall . . . for just a few minutes . . . and then the dead silence of sleep.
We're really hoping this is only a phase, preferably a short-lived one. Little stinker.
At least it's only in moments at this point, and not all day every day. This morning he was back to his sweet self, saying "I love you!" and wanting hugs and kisses. There was no hint of last night, no lingering anger or unhappiness. Perhaps he just wanted to go to bed, and picking a fight was much easier than admitting it. Yes, that's what I'll go with. It certainly beats having a four-year old with a serious attitude problem on my hands. I can't imagine where he would get that from anyway.
He joined us at the table, taking the only other open chair without a booster seat, the one right next to Mommy. He started running his toy cars on the table, half laying on the table himself. He knew this wasn't allowed. He knew this drove Mommy crazy, especially when she's trying to eat in peace. He did it anyway.
"Connor, please don't lay on the table."
"I not," he said, completely lying and completely unconcerned.
"Connor, please get off the table."
No response, and no movement, other than continuing to run his cars across the table.
"Connor," Daddy warned.
Again, no compliance. Daddy set his fork down, got up, picked Connor up from his position of still half-laying on the table and put him in the time-out chair (one of two old, outgrown car seats in a little alcove under the steps). Immediate tears and pitifulness ensue. Once that winds down, he begins hopping and moving around - not enough to technically be out of the time-out area, but enough to be testing his limits.
"Connor, sit still." I warned, so very tired of the smart mouth and boundary testing of late.
"No!" he screamed, always more confident when he's out of direct sight lines.
"Connor, you don't tell Mommy no." I said, more calmly than usual because I was simply too tired to battle last night.
"No!" he screamed again.
"If you say it again, you'll go straight to bed. No bath, no books. Straight to bed." I warned.
"No," he said, simply and quietly, almost as soon as I finished my last word.
My fork hit my plate and the chair moved back. The tears began immediately. He knew that Mommy was not joking. He knew it all along. Mommy picked him up from the chair, holding him around his waist and tucking him over my hip (there would be no hugging or cuddling on this trip up stairs). He was set down in front of the bathroom and ordered to potty before bed. For once, he didn't dare talk back. He went potty, crying the whole time. He was marched into his room, stripped and redressed into pajamas, and tucked into bed. The door closed quickly and quietly behind me. Tears and screaming follow me down the hall . . . for just a few minutes . . . and then the dead silence of sleep.
We're really hoping this is only a phase, preferably a short-lived one. Little stinker.
At least it's only in moments at this point, and not all day every day. This morning he was back to his sweet self, saying "I love you!" and wanting hugs and kisses. There was no hint of last night, no lingering anger or unhappiness. Perhaps he just wanted to go to bed, and picking a fight was much easier than admitting it. Yes, that's what I'll go with. It certainly beats having a four-year old with a serious attitude problem on my hands. I can't imagine where he would get that from anyway.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Toy Closet
What does one do after vacation and another holiday season that brought even more toys into an already overcrowded house? Simple. If you're OCD, as I am, then you start organizing.
This week alone, I have tackled two closets, the walk-in pantry and even the refrigerator. Don't ask. Let's just say it involves six sippy cups constantly falling out of the refrigerator, you know, squeezed in with the six gallons of milk, abundance of yogurt and applesauce, and other groceries we manage to fit inside.
The kids and the puppy watch in fascination (if I am brave or determined enough to do it while they're awake), and Josh just laughs. He's certainly used to it by now. I can completely understand Sawyer's need for order - I have a pretty serious need for it myself!
And just because it will make many of you smile, I will show you the recently reorganized pantry in our kitchen. When we designed and built the house two years ago, it was supposed to be for food and miscellaneous household supplies (with three boys, we buy in bulk). It has turned into a walk-in toy closet with just a few household items squeezed in.
I get the bottom three shelves - for fruit snacks, candy, diapers, central vacuum supplies, and soft drinks. I also get to keep the small freezer, next to the broken toy box that doesn't fit in the living room any more, you know, with the other toy box and the new very large train table. The top four shelves are all toys.
I get half of this wall for cleaning stuff (okay, and the other flat wall behind the door where the hooks hold mops and brooms and ladders and all that fun stuff). The canvas totes have more small toys.
The broken toy box (just the lid) that now holds all the "outdoor" toys.
So much for the pantry. Good thing we added that extra wall of cabinets in the kitchen when we designed the house. Oh well, at least all of these toys are neatly put away and not spread out across the entire downstairs. Just getting half of it out is enough to test my OCD limits! And the bad news, we have two birthday boys coming up later this months, which can only mean one thing . . . even more toys!
This week alone, I have tackled two closets, the walk-in pantry and even the refrigerator. Don't ask. Let's just say it involves six sippy cups constantly falling out of the refrigerator, you know, squeezed in with the six gallons of milk, abundance of yogurt and applesauce, and other groceries we manage to fit inside.
The kids and the puppy watch in fascination (if I am brave or determined enough to do it while they're awake), and Josh just laughs. He's certainly used to it by now. I can completely understand Sawyer's need for order - I have a pretty serious need for it myself!
And just because it will make many of you smile, I will show you the recently reorganized pantry in our kitchen. When we designed and built the house two years ago, it was supposed to be for food and miscellaneous household supplies (with three boys, we buy in bulk). It has turned into a walk-in toy closet with just a few household items squeezed in.
I get the bottom three shelves - for fruit snacks, candy, diapers, central vacuum supplies, and soft drinks. I also get to keep the small freezer, next to the broken toy box that doesn't fit in the living room any more, you know, with the other toy box and the new very large train table. The top four shelves are all toys.
I get half of this wall for cleaning stuff (okay, and the other flat wall behind the door where the hooks hold mops and brooms and ladders and all that fun stuff). The canvas totes have more small toys.
The broken toy box (just the lid) that now holds all the "outdoor" toys.
So much for the pantry. Good thing we added that extra wall of cabinets in the kitchen when we designed the house. Oh well, at least all of these toys are neatly put away and not spread out across the entire downstairs. Just getting half of it out is enough to test my OCD limits! And the bad news, we have two birthday boys coming up later this months, which can only mean one thing . . . even more toys!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Happy Day
Where were you eight years ago today? I was standing in a little chapel in the Smoky Mountains, surrounded by a few friends and family, getting married to the most wonderful man in the world. All these years and kids later, I'd do it again. I'm one of lucky ones - he only gets better with time. Good husband. Good father. Good man. Greatest gift in my life.
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