One of many examples of a mother's deteriorating mind the second time around...
While thinking about feeding Jack breakfast, I notice a piece of garbage has flown into our backyard.
Me: "Jack, it's time to eat some garbage, so go on and sit at the table."
Jack: "Mommy, what did you say?"
I guess sometimes it's okay to question your parents.
I'm thrilled to announce that Amy from Heber City, Utah, is the winner of the little blogiversary contest I held last week. Congratulations, Amy--I hope you enjoy The Little Box of Baby Quilts and the quilt I'm sending as well.
I didn't have as many contest entries as I had anticpated for giving away a quilt. In fact, only two people entered. Two. How do you choose a random winner from TWO entries? I had to get a little creative.
I wrote the names of both commenters on separate pieces of paper. I folded up each paper and threw them over the deck into the backyard.
Then I had Jack fetch one of the papers for me.
And that's how Amy won.
Jenn from Independence, Kansas, gets a copy of the "little box" just for playing. That's one nice thing about only having two entries--I can easily end up with two winners. (Hey, looky me. I found the bright side!) Thank you, both of you, for entering.
After several conversations about first and last names, Jack surprises me with a 12-inch toy lizard in the bathroom...
"Mommy look, it's Godzilla! So his last name is Zilla, and his first name is God."
No, no, no, no no no . . . not seventeen days late THAT way.
My blogiversary was two Saturdays ago. I've now spent one year out here in bloggerspace. My goal was to post 100 times during my first year. I posted 96 entries. Hey, not bad for a mama times two!
So, in celebration of my little 'ol milestone, I give you a little 'ol contest. Well, just a random drawing, really. Leave a comment on this post--about anything you like--and you'll be entered to win not only a signed copy of my book (but actually, it's a box), The Little Box of Baby Quilts, but an actual QUILT from the "little box," too!
This is the quilt up for grabs:
"Elementary!" by Jenny Wilding Cardon. Machine quilted by Cheryl Brown. Finished quilt: 42 1/2" x 58 1/2".
It's a pretty big quilt for a baby quilt--size-wise, it'll last a kid through their preschool years. So if you have a toddler or preschooler who is beginning to learn their ABCs and 123s, post! Just leave your comment by Friday, June 20, 2008 to be eligible for the giveaway.
I look back on some of my 96 posts and wince. Some posts I'm proud of (like this one and that one and this recent one, and some of my favorite Jackspeaks, here and there). But mostly, I see how much can change in a year. Namely, a little boy named Jack. And a big girl named Jenny.
On the other hand, in my debut post I used phrases like "pee my pants" and the distinctive Utah slang of "Oh my heck!" So, some things never change.
If you have a good home for the quilt above, I beg you--please post. I really do want her to land somewhere where she'll be loved. Good luck!
Now, on to year two.
With potty humor now at full-tilt in our home, Jack practices the fine art of joke-telling.
Jack: "Mom, why did the sheep cross the road?"
Me: "I dunno. Why?"
"Because he wanted to go pee-pee on the balloon."
[silence]
"Jacky, that's the weirdest joke I've ever heard."
"Awesome!"
There’s life before children, and life after children. After children, you’re still the same old you—you just start playing life by different rules. Less stringent rules. Whenever and wherever you can.
When I realized I had modified yet another rule I had previously adhered to my entire life (see first bullet below), I started thinking about all the rules I have adjusted to fit my mama lifestyle. There are things I’d never done, never heard, and never experienced before I had children. Here are just a few of them—the few I could share and still keep things fairly sanitized, anyway.
Yes. This is a drawing of placenta. I was told by the three year old.
So, yes. My sense of decorum has died, at least partly. I still insist on a bath each morning. I still believe in a clean kitchen. And I still remember to brush my teeth almost every day. There’ll be plenty of time to relearn the rules of etiquette in the years to come.
Oops. I forgot. I guess it’s also up to me to teach those rules, isn't it? Well, I guess I can guarantee that at least one etiquette rule will never be broken by my boys. I’m the only one who will ever be flashing my boobs at the dinner table.
Well, sewing with one son. The other son is too busy to bother, with his daily lessons on sleeping and pooping and all.
I thought I'd have to wait quite a few more years before I could sew with Jack, but with a simple idea from a fantastic new book called The Creative Family by Amanda Soule, he's on his way. Check out his first stitches--and his astonishing concentration:
If the thread comes out the BACK, put the needle through the BACK.
If the thread comes out the FRONT, put the needle through the FRONT.
My boy--the next rock star with needle and thread.
Charlie, soaking up the sewing vibe.
The finished piece.
After borrowing a purse of mine to haul special belongings (like superhero figures, doctor's rubber gloves, and nail clippers), Jack decided he would like me to turn his stitchery into a purse for his loot. When Daddy heard the news, he had only one request:
"Don't call it a purse. Call it a man bag."
Jack, sew on. Purse, man bag, tote, whatever. My son is sewing. SEW ON!
ADJUSTMENT: [uh-juhst-muhnt] noun. Change, alteration, modification, fine-tuning.
Ah, yes. A new baby brings ADJUSTMENT. In the first three weeks since Charlie arrived we've had our good days and bad days, our proud moments and maddening moments. Like these:
The good: Jackspeaks.
"Mom, is he really our baby? When you pushed Charlie out, did the doctor SAY he was our baby?"
"Mommy, look at his teeny-tiny pinky toe. It's really, really tiny. It's so tiny!"
"Charlie is sooo, sooo cute."
"Charlie is my favorite baby in the whole wide-wide world."
The bad: Meltdowns. I took Jack for a special mama/son trip to the toy store. Ended up getting screamed at, spit upon, and smacked in the face by my sweet three-year-old. Jack loves the baby. That day, it was me he had a problem with. ADJUSTMENT.
The good: An unexpected helper. Jack fetches whatever I ask for in a flash--as long as it's for Charlie--and he does it with an eager smile on his face. He just pranced downstairs to grab clean wraps from the dryer. What a shock. What a blessing.
The ugly: Diapers. We love cloth diapering but--changing them, checking them, washing them, drying them, folding them, cursing them. When one is in diapers, we're ALL in diapers. (And this kid can PEE.)
So, we are ADJUSTING. Minute by minute, at times. But these kind of moments make the ADJUSTMENTS worth the effort:
Big feet, little feet. Old feet, new feet. Dirty feet, clean feet. Feet, feet, feet.
Next on the ADJUSTMENT to-do list: figuring out how to have two children and make dinner at the same time.
Yes, I'm a cover girl . . . kinda. My face isn't on the cover of this magazine, but my likeness is! It's the quilt I've written about here and here and here. And now it's THERE, on the cover of the new issue of Quilt It for Kids, put out by Quilter's Newsletter Magazine. It never entered my mind that this quilt would be considered for the cover. So I just about peed my pants when I heard that's exactly where it was going. How about that?
Complete instructions for making the "Fuzz Ball" quilt are inside the magazine . . .
As well as instructions for making my "Lift Off!" quilt. Love this set-up shot!
Now that the magazine is out and the quilts are back home, I'm wondering which one I should save for this little guy:
Is he a fuzz-ball kind of kid, or does he like big balloons better? Not sure just yet. But if I do say so myself . . . he's melt-your-heart cute, ain't he?
Our little boy decided he was done with the womb on Friday. Friday, his due date. Friday, the day our doctor had convinced us to force Charlie out by breaking my water. We had planned to arrive at the hospital at 9 a.m. for an induction. Instead, we arrived at 8:40 a.m. because of some holy-strong contractions. Charlie was born at 9:16 a.m.
Waterslide. Race car. Jet plane. Rocket ship. So fast, so fast. No time to think, no time to settle in, no time for medication. Just push.
Charlie, I was so broken up about getting induced--although there were good medical reasons, I hated that WE were choosing your birthday. But YOU. You went ahead and chose that day for yourself after all, didn't you? Thank you. You rock. We are so very happy that you are here.
And, arriving at the hospital a mere 36 minutes before giving birth "naturally" (um, ouch!), I have this to say about myself:
I AM SUPERWOMAN.
That's how I felt on Friday, anyway. Today, I'm a little achy.
Lots of close-up shots of tiny things to come soon.
Now at ready-to-pop pregnancy status, I've been eating wintergreen-flavored Tums antacids like Smarties for the past two months. (I've downed so many that I now affectionately call them "tons.") I keep them on top of our headboard. Jack likes to fetch them out of the bottle for me. Before naptime, I asked Jack if he could help me by getting me two Tums before I let my head hit the pillow. The following conversation ensued:
Jack: "Mommy, what do Tums taste like?"
Me: "Well, they taste okay. But they are medicine, and only for grown-ups."
"But why can't I eat the Tums?"
"Well, you don't need them. And your body is too little. You might get sick if you eat them."
"Okay. But maybe one day when I have a baby in my tummy, I can eat lots of Tums like you."
"You bet, baby. When you have a baby in your tummy, I'll buy you your very own bottle."
"Cool."
Okay, there are the unbelievable messes on an almost daily basis. Unexplainable outbursts here and there. And the occasional horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day. But all in all, we've got a funny, happy, creative kid in Jack. The kind of kid that gets a sloppy smooch and a monster of a hug after a viewing of Supernanny. Sometimes, I feel like we're doing some things right.
Before Jack came along we decided to create a family bed, so he's slept with us since the day he was born. About a month ago, however--with a new baby soon to be vying for his own spot in the family bed--we figured we'd try to move Jack to his own big-boy bed to save some squishing. During the first week, he came back into the family bed twice. Since then, he's slept all night in his own bed. Isn't it great when you expect the worst and then experience the best?
The view from the head of Jack's new bed.
What we didn't know is that the whole experience would get even better over the coming weeks. Cut to our new nightly conversation . . .
Jack: "I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed."
The Parents: "Jack, it's too early for bed. Stay up for a bit, come snuggle on the couch. You want a cookie or something?"
"No. Good night."
Jack hops on the potty, turns on the bathroom nightlight, and retires to his bedroom after turning on his star lights at the foot of his bed, above. Shortly thereafter, a loud, demanding voice rings out to The Parents from said bedroom:
Jack: "Somebody tuck me in!"
The Parents: "Jacky, it's really too early for bed. Come in the living room, stay up a little longer."
"But I'm SOOOOO SLEEPY. COME TUCK ME IN!"
"Okay, OKAY! Coming."
After a proper tuck in, The Parents convene in the living room.
Parent #1: "Did you hear him begging to go to bed? How did we DO that?"
Parent #2: "I have no idea."
Parent #1: "We are the envy of all the parents of the world. Let us sit on our couch, watch a rerun of Dexter, and allow our chests to swell with pride over our boy."
Parent #2: "Yes. Let's."
No "time for bed!" fights. No "I need a drink of water I need another story I need a song I need I need I need . . ." You know, the kind of stuff you hear about that could easily take up the last waking moments (or more) of your day.
Bedtime bliss. I know, I know--while it lasts. But bedtime bliss nonetheless.
I'm sure the restful nights will soon end with little Tie-Dye on the way ANY. DAY. NOW. (I'm now nine months and three days pregnant. I am done counting.) But with this post, I have documented that this sleep pattern DID exist. When we are deep in the throes of sleepless nights with two young boys, I hope I remember to read this post as a reminder. To help me believe this scenario could repeat itself someday.
Just a dream, perhaps . . . but I'm not letting this dream die. It could happen again. Couldn't it?
Just before naptime, after finishing another reading of Where the Wild Things Are . . .
Jack: "Mom, I think Max didn't know where he was going in the boat."
Me: "I think you're right. He didn't know where he was sailing, and he just sailed and sailed until he ran into the wild things. I would be a little scared if I ran into the wild things, all alone in my boat."
"Yes. I would be a little scared, too. But Daddy wouldn't be scared."
"I bet he wouldn't. He would know just what to do."
"Yes. Daddy would know just what to do. He would kick their butts."
