Huh huh huh

is the sound Baby J makes whenever he feels like he is supposed to laugh. He doesn't have great comic timing. Today he burst into this random fit of forced laughter whenever there was a pause in the conversation--which inevitably makes any interaction hilarious. The husband and I have been cracking up as we imitate his chuckle all night. We sure love our funny little Jdog.

No No

Today Jdog started shaking his head "no," and he showed off his new skill a lot today. I'm not quite sure if he knows exactly what "no" means, but he jerks his big head back and forth so convincingly. It's as if that's the only word that has ever meant anything to him--more than "dado" and "manumnum." Oh how I love his babbling titles (though I could do without him diving at my chest saying "numnumnum"...oh how the husband laughs at that trick).

Jdog uses the "no" gesture whenever I try to shove rice cereal down his throat, or any grain cereal for that matter. He shakes his head vigorously when Atrain or I begin dragging him away from something he's interested in. And, he signs "no" whenever he wants to get my attention, as if to say, "No, manumnum, no more of whatever meaningless thing you're doing. You need to appropriately acknowledging how adorable I am right now." If only his "no-s' could forever seem so sweet.

Blankey Boy

Our little baby J is changing every day. He wakes up with bright eyes and a happy heart, pointing his little chubby finger at everything--ready to show us his new tricks. If I only had a dollar for every time the husband says, "That little Jdog is such a good baby," then we could pay off our student loans. Almost.

Little J has always been a texture guy. He loves to feel things--scratching walls, furniture, carpet, my face (ouch), and he loves to try to pick apart anything that is crocheted. Since birth whenever he eats he's so interested in scratching me that it is rather painful, so I always tried to keep a blanket nearby to keep his hand occupied. And, he's developed an attachment. And it's adorable.

He doesn't show a preference for any particular blanket yet. He has a few favorites--the soft ones. He grabs a wad of the furry fabric with both hands and stuffs it into his mouth and smiles. The other day at the grocery store I had him in a frenzy of giggles as I let him stuff his blanket into my mouth. This kid is too cute.

Today when he awoke I heard him jabbering in his playpen. I sat there listening his his amazing little noises for a few minutes before I went in to get him. It's still sort of crazy to me that his favorite sound is "sssss." It's just so effortless. When I opened the door he crawled over to the crib side, stood up and reached for me. Then, I asked him, "Where's you're blankey baby?" He immediately dropped down, crawled over to his fuzzy green comfort cloth, and clenched onto it with both hands. I picked him and the blanket up and he was as happy as a baby could be.

That is, until, Atrain began experimenting with Jdog's tolerance. Atrain grabbed the blanket from him and then gave it back, and then repeated the teasing until baby J had had enough. He crawled right over to big brother and lunged for the blankey. I was like watching a a baby seal belly flop onto a slab of ice. Atrain was a little surprised by Jdog's sudden surge of confidence. So was I. We all laughed a little before I parted the two boys and congratulated Jdog on winning moves. He smiled as he snuggled his face right into his blanket. It's so sweet to have a little blankey boy.

Yeah

I'm still working on about 6 catch up posts at once. I'm so far behind I feel like I'm trying to rescue a runaway train. But I won't give up. The husband has been a good cheerleader. He even kicked me out of bed last night so that I could go write. I think that's a good thing--just that once, though.

Baby J is growing up so much. He melts my heart into a puddle of love every time he flashes his crinkle-nose smile my way. He also gets a horizontal wrinkle right between his eyes and breathes in and out of his nose as he examines strangers. Funny baby. The other night I had a meeting at my house with a lot of medical school wives. Jdog stayed up to be a part of the fun. He hobble-crawled around the room with one leg strait, then pulled himself up on his knees with the help of the new set of legs he found. Then he scrunched up his face, pushed air in and out of his nose and flashed his two-toothed grin. How could you not laugh out loud?

Jdog also has acquired a few funny "words." He isn't big on conversation. It's ironic that big brother Atrain (who was only aided with two sumo strength hearing devices) was 'talking' more at his age: more gibberish exchanges. I love the differences. Jdog mumbles on about "dadada" and "geekgeekgeeek" most of the day. And lately he's come up with the funnest little expression, "Yeah!" He says it quite frequently. The word bursts from his mouth with rising intonation all day long. And I egg it on--all day long, trying to get him to answer my questions, "Are you a cute baby? Yeah! Do you love your momma? Yeah! Does momma need to do the laundry? Yeah!" I hope this lovely little word lasts forever.

Sleep Over

My mind is like mush. It often feels this way after I put the kids to bed. Today was not the greatest day. I didn’t get anything done that I wanted to do. Instead, I spent my time making up for my mistakes. I left Baby J’s port-a-crib (the handy, portable bed that has been his bed by my bed) at my mother’s house yesterday, so the bulk of my time was spent putting together the real crib. And, for some odd reason I decided to put it up in Atrain’s room.

The experiment needed to happen at some point. I’m just not sure if now was a good time for it. My state of being is not exactly stately right now. The weight of worrying for the kids alone is wearing on me. I know that the husband worries about them, but in the day to day ‘to dos’ it means a lot to have someone else’s voice chime-in to harmonize with mind. It’s not that I am incapable of reminding Atrain to put his pajamas on twenty times in a row. It’s just that when the number of requests I’ve issued exceeds the number of fingers on my hand, my confidence begins to crack. I wonder if the words coming out of my mouth make any sense. I wonder why I’m even speaking at all. And I wonder why—when given the express choice—Atrain prefers “time out” over dressing himself. Othingnay akesmay ensesay.

Until, that is, I hear my boys giggling and blowing raspberries at each other as they “try” to go to sleep in the same room. For some reason, those sounds bring me back home. I’m laughing as I listen to them live it up after hours, even though I know that I’ll have to go in there soon enough to break up the party. I already went in there once to remind Atrain that he needs to stay in his bed. He tried to convince me that his new bed on the rocking chair counted; too bad that it doesn’t. I’m sure that I’ll hear Atrain trying to join his brother in the bed we ‘built’ today. I can’t even think about how angry he will be when I tell him he can’t. Even with a mushy mind, it’s easy to understand how much they love each other.

So, maybe I’ll just join the slumber party. I’m sure that my presence will greatly increase the chances of the Sandman joining in the fun too. Who cares about the hallway full of homeless odds and ends that became displaced when the crib moved in. Never mind the sink full of stinky dishes. I’m not even going to try to catch up on the blog. I’m going to have a sleep over.

Sunset Run

Tonight we went on a sweet sunset run. It was a great way to decompress after our two-day long audiology appointment. I love taking my boys out in the stroller. They love it too. Jdog is even big enough to be propped up like a big-boy without his car seat attachment. He mumbles delightful “sshchhskisshc” sounds, scratches the various fabric textures and kicks the tray as we jog down the sidewalk.

On special occasions I even let Atrain bring his scooter along. Tonight was one such occasion. But I made him get dressed in his one piece pajamas before we left the house, just so I could giggle at how cute he looks scooting down the sidewalk in helmet and PJs. He chugged his little legs along side me and the bob as we watched the sun set slowly on the horizon. The perfect way to end a stinky day.

Pegleg Jdog

Baby J crawled today. He has been rolling around, playing stink bug and rocking and chugging his chubby little legs in crawl stance for three weeks now. His maneuvers across the floor are rather impressive. I espacially love it when he winds up squatting in a straddle position or sitting in near splits. He looks up at me, proud as can be and I applaud and cheer as he scrunches his nose, smiles and shows off his two lower teeth. (Did I mention the set of chompers he grew in Texas?) He is the most squishable, kissable kid.

Today we went to Katydid's home to spend the night and prep for Atrain's audiology appointment tomorrow. She just got a new dog. Jdog loves doggies--so much that he took his first few crawls towards Katydid's new pet. He got up into position, then advanced one arm toward the dog. His knee followed, and then with a big swinging motion, the other arm. Finally, he stretched his other leg forward--stick strait--like a baby pegleg pirate. As soon as he saw that he was just inches away from the furry creature, he laid down on his belly and reached his hand eternally forward. Lucky for him, the dog acknowledged his efforts and met him half way. Who wouldn't have? He is the cutest little pegleg Jdog there has ever been.

Copy Cat

Every day my boys do at least one thing that catches me a little off guard. But today they dished out a double whammie. One surprise was adorable—worthy of imitation and duplication. I hope that the other never, ever happens again. I’ll start with that one.

While we were getting ready for bed tonight Atrain shifted into “super silly/ignoring/defiant” mode. He thought it was funny to slap me on the back again and again and say silly things to me while I changed his brother’s diaper. It probably is a fun game to get a rise out of me while I’m trying to focus on something else: fun, and tolerable, until he says something like, “Holy Cow! You’re so stupid, mom!” I stopped mid-wipe and looked at him with shocked, confused eyes and asked, “Where did you learn to say that?” He thought it was very funny and continued to happily chant the phrase until I put him in his bedroom and closed the door. Sad thing is, as I’ve thought about where he may have picked up on those words I can’t help but point all fingers back to me. I rarely—if ever—call other people stupid, but I’m sure that Atrain has heard me call myself stupid. Like when I loose my keys or my phone or [fill in the blank] I occasionally let a frustrated, “I’m so stupid,” phrase slip out of my lips. How stupid of me. I don’t really want Atrain thinking his momma is stupid or—even worse—believing that it’s ok to think of himself as stupid. Oops. Stopping the stupid phrase starts with me.

And, on the more adorable side of the spectrum, Jdog has learned to crinkle his nose and snort. This one, I don’t think he picked up from me. Maybe from the husband, but even that’s a stretch. I think the snort is completely a creation of baby J. It’s also completely adorable—the way he gets overexcited, kicks his jiggley- soft, chubby legs, flaps his arms, scrunches his nose and then breathes quickly in and out, producing a number of quick little snorts. I just love it. The moment he began it, I couldn’t help but copy it—which of course, amplified the production of his new, token gesture. Hope I don’t regret egging it on. I doubt that I will regret copying. But I do regret being copied.

From the Mouth of my Babes

This morning, dark and early, Jdog decided to have a little talk with his bassinet. His scratching noises woke me—he loves examining the holey texture of his port-a-crib’s restraining walls. But I didn’t immediately swoop him up to lie beside me. I waited, listening to the other, subtle, nearly indistinguishable sounds slipping out of his mouth. “-c-c-c-c-c-c-c” he said ever so softly. Then he started to shake things up a but, adding, “t-t-t-kh-kh-kh-sssss” to the mix. His little sounds were so quiet I felt like I was eavesdropping on a top secret conversation.

My heart smiled as I listened to his little voice. Baby J has been such a quiet chap I would be worried he had hearing loss if we hadn’t had such thorough tests to confirm that his hearing has not (yet) followed in the footsteps of his big brother. Most likely it won’t, but we still need an MRI to screen for the Large Vestibular Aqueducts Atrain has. My mind rewound to memories of Atrain’s first noises; they were so different—loud, chesty, palpable sounds. We would cheer and applaud with every single peep.

Now here I lie, listening to Jdog speak sounds that Atrain would never have been able to hear without cochlear implants: so effortless. It makes me simultaneously happy and sad, even though I know it might be unfair. I’m happy that Jdog can hear, and that he’ll never understand how hard Atrain worked for a couple of years to secure those soft little noises in his repertoire. Everything is and will always be that much harder for him—which makes me sad, even though it shouldn’t. Little Atrain has already proven how resilient and determined he is. I know he can take whatever this world will dish out at him. And he has a sweet, adoring brother to buffer him from the blows.

It’s now when I think about how much God is watching out for our family: late at night when I’m wondering what’s in store for these little boys. It’s now, in the quiet hours of the morning when I can hear and see so clearly how much God loves them. It’s now when I’m reminded that one of my most important jobs is to help my boys feel, understand and remember that love.

Sweet little Jdog

I’m thinking of using the last few posts to springboard my new novel, “The Chronicles of Potty Training.” I’ve become so comfortable using potty terms and telling potty stories that The Puddle has lost propriety. Not that I’ve ever really been a “proper Polly” anyway. My mom always cringes when I consider changing Jdog’s diapers in semi-public places. She probably wouldn’t think twice about it if someone else’s daughter decided to change her baby on her lap in a restaurant. I think it’s just that she can’t believe she raised such a redneck. I love reminding her.

Anyhow, enough dirty talk. I need something sweeter to salivate over…something sweet and squishy and smiley. Something like Jdog. Aint never been a sweeter babe. Lately he’s learned to crank his neck around and turn his body to the side, just to look at me. I look down at his little blanket to see his big blue eyes and plump cheeks checking me out and I can’t help but snuggle right up next to him on the floor and watch him shove a hand full of my hair right into his mouth.

Jdog is a sweet, and somewhat serious baby. He smiles a lot, but you have to work hard for his giggles. Yesterday Atrain began playing “extreme peek-a-boo” with him. This game involved the traditional cover-your-eyes approach, but whenever Atrain uncovered them he screamed, laughed and danced the “peek-a-boo” part. I thought Jdog would cry, but no—he’s so sweet he just laughed at Atrain’s crazy game…just like he puts up with (and even is starting to look like he enjoys) the constant head-butting, smothering and silly singing/screaming. He is quite a patient baby.

For example: yesterday my sweet neighbor invited us and a few other families over for lunch. We arrived and Atrain said, “Wow—it smells good in here.” And he was right. She had prepared a five course gourmet lunch. It was amazing. She even made individual pizzas for each of the kiddos. Too bad picky little Atrain wasn’t impressed. All he wanted to do was ask the other kids to play “monster under the table” and race his cars down her hallway. I was so conflicted, trying to allow my taste buds to savor each succulent bite, coo at my sweet baby J, and wrestle my three year old into submission all at the same time. My stress reached a pinnacle when Atrain and the other kids somehow tipped over my neighbor’s full length mirror. It came crashing down right on Atrain’s head. We were so lucky that no one was hurt. I sat Atrain on the couch and sternly told him not to move a muscle while I cleaned up the mess, to which he responded, “You’re breath sort of stinks.” My first thought was, “I didn’t know you know the word ‘breath.” Then I didn’t know whether to laugh or get embarrassed or strangle him, or squeeze him and tell him how glad I was that the broken mirror didn’t ruin his sense of smell. So I just told him again to stay put.

Here is where the sweet Jdog comes in. Amidst all of the chaos he just sat there and smiled and let the other ladies admire him. Once the daggers of broken mirror were sent to the dumpster and the area was vacuumed, my neighbor brought out the cup cakes and Atrain retreated from “monster mode,” batted his big blue eyes and dished out angelic pleas for the delectable dessert. He does know how to be sweet too.

But today I am especially thankful for my sweet baby J, who puts up with a lot of tough love from big brother, a lot of mindless moments from mother and enjoys every instance he gets to snuggle with father. He sure is good at snuggling.

Teen Mom

Today I promoted teen abstinence—not that Allerina needed a reminder to stay away from boys. She's never kissed anyone and I’m proud of her for her refrain. Not that I would know, but kissing boys in middle school is definitely not worth it. Big sister Bambie would know. She would agree with me.

Allerina accompanied me to Atrain’s quarterly audiology appointment. Why would I take my little sister out of school and drive her three hours away from her home for my son’s doctor’s appointment? It really doesn’t have anything to do with abstinence. It has much more to do with the fact that I’m not abstinent and now have two kids. One of them has to spend three hours listening to beeping noises every four months (and needs my full attention to help him). He hates that. The other son has to eat every two to three hours, and he won’t eat without me. He hates that. I can’t do it without help. I hate that.

My mom couldn’t help; she’s getting ready to go to Canada tomorrow. My sister who lives near the audiologist couldn’t help; she had class. I’m too proud to ask my mother in law; no matter the inconvenience she would drop everything and come. So, when Allerina offered excitedly to be my on-site babysitter at the audiologist, I couldn’t pass it up. Even though she didn’t know what she was in for.

I picked her up yesterday after she cleared the absence with her teachers and picked up her homework. She was happy to miss math class, and I was happy to tutor her. Atrain was happy to see her. Jodg howled the whole way home. Allerina made dinner while I fed Jdog, then she bounced Jdog while I spent the rest of the evening at a work meeting. Then when I returned we did her homework before heading to bed at one am.

The next morning we began prepping for our long adventure to the audiologist. I told Atrain the bad news when he awoke: that we were headed to the cochlear doctor today. He cried, but perked up when I reminded him about the listening games we’ve been practicing and the chocolate egg rewards. I skipped my run and revolved everything around getting the boys ready and keeping them happy. We played games, I gave in to more of his chocolate requests than usual, I didn’t make him take a bath, Allerina took him to the playground, I worked hard keeping Jdog awake until we loaded into the car. It was a success. We drove the 90 minutes to the audiologist with both boys happily snoozing in the back.

When we got to the appointment Allerina took over Jdog duties while I convinced a frantic Atrain to let our audiologist hook his cochlears up to the computer. Poor kid. I don’t really even know what I’m talking about when I tell him that it’s not going to be bad. I don’t know what he hears when we hook him up to the computer. I know that sometimes we have to turn the sound off, which makes him understandably upset. But the kid is tough. I know he can do it—even if I can’t completely understand what he has to go through.

The audiologist and I quickly got to work, and to my surprise, Atrain quickly became cooperative and even happy. He was doing it. He was listening for the beeps and consistently pressing the button when he heard them. It was the first time in his life he was giving us feedback about how his cochlears hear. The chocolate egg incentive helped and our practice was paying off. He was even having fun. Whenever he heard the beep (it’s something that only he hears…and we have to discern whether or not he really heard it or he’s just pretending to hear it so he can push the button) he got to switch the pictures of cars characters on the computer screen. He was laughing at their expressions, talking about what they were doing, and asking me the names of the ones he didn’t know. Even though he couldn’t hear me respond he would read my lips and repeat what he thought I was saying. I try to teach him to read lips while he takes baths, but he’s never tried to repeat the words I mouth to him. He’s actually quite good at it.

All the while we’re in the sound booth making the most of Atrain’s productive appointment, I’m wondering how Allerina is holding up with Jdog in the foyer. I can feel that he’s getting hungry. After an hour and a half the audiologist, Aaron and I take a break so that both boys can eat. Then we get back to work. To all of our astonishment, Atrain keeps at the task for another ninety minutes. Amazing. We’re gathering so much data about my kid’s listening skills that we have to schedule another appointment for next week so that we can finish testing. He’s really growing up.

We finished the appointment an hour over schedule and Allerina and Jdog were relieved to see us enter the waiting room. Baby J looked angry. Allerina looked exhausted: my superhero sister, saving the day, swallowing the kryptonite so that Atrain’s appointment could be a success. She was amazing. She missed school, missed her friends, missed her young women’s activity so that she could save me. And now she was clearly ready to go home. So was I. The kids, on the other hand, had other plans. I had to pull Atrain away from the toys in the waiting room. That was a first. Jdog arched his back when I put him in his car seat and started to cry. It was a long ride. My poor baby cried on and off most of the way home. For a few moments I flashed back to the days when I was Allerina’s age, babysitting while my parents were out for the night, bouncing my colicky newborn sister to sleep for hours next to the dryer in the laundry room. She always liked the sound of the dryer.

Allerina went to sleep for most of the ride home, despite my howling baby. It was probably better that way. Toward the end of the ride she woke up and in a dazed state her true feelings about her day surfaced when she asked, “What’s his problem?” Jdog just kept crying. I kept apologizing for making her day so miserable, then thanking her for being the person who I know loves me enough to put up with the misery, then apologizing again. “I bet you would take math class over this,” I said. She said no, but avoided eye contact. “Do you ever want kids after today?” She snorted and replied, “not at least for another ten years. Good. Glad I could be of service.

One Dozen Surprises

I’m not really sure if I like Valentines Day. Romance is mostly romantic when an unexpected gift or moment (planned by your partner) reveals how much he or she has been thinking about you…how excited he or she has been to surprise you with something they’ve been planning for weeks. Part of me is annoyed by V-day’s contrived expectation of obligatory romance. Another large part of me wonders all day long if the husband will “surprise” me with something sweet and special. I did end up liking this Valentines Day, but not because the husband surprised me with a dozen roses. The day gave me one dozen (mostly) sweet surprises instead:

Surprise #1: 50% off lowest marked clearance price at Smiths’ Market Place. I scored a couple of inexpensive jackets for the boys for Easter—a holiday I definitely like.

Surprise #2: The mechanic said that our car would only cost $230 to get it repaired rather than $750…I always had an itchy feeling that Big O was taking advantage of my mechanical ignorance.

Surprise #3: The custodial staff came by my apartment today to do my Spring Cleaning. Even though this surprise was planned, (they offer this service free-of-charge once every year to on-campus apartments) it never ceases to amaze me how incredible it feels to have someone else clean the bathroom for me.

Surprise #4: A couple of Atrain’s friends are allergic to peanut butter. I wish I would have packed a bigger variety of Valentines, rather than relying solely on the good-ole Reeses hearts to hand out to his neighbor friends. At least Atrain enjoyed devouring the left-overs.

Surprise #5: Atrain was deeply disappointed when the husband and I decided to get our chicken nachos via take-out from our favorite restaurant. He really wanted to go in.

Surprise #6: The Chick-fil-A that existed on our GPS by Fashion Place mall is now a jewelry store.

Surprise #7: There are too many McDonalds restaurants without play places. We drove by three of them on our quest for a family-friendly Valentines dining experience. Atrain knows how to say, “Let’s look a little harder.” I never thought I’d be so happy to see the golden arches on 2100 South.

Surprise #8: Jdog loves watching Atrain run like a crazy man around Mickey D’s.

Surprise #9: Little boys with long pony tails make great playmates.

Surprise #10: Atrain can hear me through the maze of plastic tunnels when I yell at him to come eat his happy meal.

Surprise #11: The husband did think about buying me a bouquet of flowers on his way home from the hospital, but decided against it because of the ridiculous price tag. On our student budget, I was just happy to hear that he thought about it.

Surprise #12: Cold, slightly rubbery chicken nachos still taste wonderful when eating them with the one you love.

Immunizations

Today Jdog had his two month check up and immunizations. Oh how I hate betraying my children in the doctor’s office. Baby J was so happy and proud as he laid down on the scale with his clothes off as the nurses marveled at my nearly 15 lb. baby. He cooed at the doctor as he was examined. He smiled at me when I put his clothes halfway on—leaving his rolly poley legs exposed. Atrain knew what was coming. He clambered up on the table and said in his sweet voice, “Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand baby J.” Then the nurse came over and stabbed him with the needles. Jdog’s scream grew louder and more bewildered with each of the three shots.

It makes my heart sink when there is no way to explain my children that I’m doing what’s best for them, when I have to cause them a little pain now to strengthen them for whatever they may encounter later. But that's my job. It’s painful in ways I never predicted—especially when I had to let the anesthesiologist pry my child from my arms while I stood there helpless, listening to him cry my name all the way to the cochlear implant operating room. There were moments when I thought I would never forgive myself for that. But now Atrain can hear his little brother crying after his immunizations. He can tell him calmly and clearly, “It’s ok baby J, you will be ok…do you want momma to feed you?”

Sometimes parenting stinks, discipline stinks: the responsibility to cause my children pain now in order to prepare them for later. I couldn’t do it without hope and faith that God also knows and loves my children and will help me raise them to be the good, strong individuals they can be. I couldn’t do it if I didn’t know that he also knows and loves me. I’m a little stronger than I was last time…at least with Jdog's first immunizations I didn’t cry, leaving the nurses to deal with two sobbing babies. That was a little embarrassing.

Missionary Monday

(excerpt from Elder I's letter)

My dear missionary brother, I've had a thought this Christmas that has stayed with me. I've thought about you this Christmas, and how difficult it must be to have such a beautiful gift to offer people, if they would just open their doors and let the missionaries in. As I've envisioned you on the long streets of Bastrop, I've wondered how it must feel, and how it must have felt for Joseph to have his wife carrying the most beautiful gift in the world. I'm sure you can imagine being Joseph, feeling the responsibility to find a place for Mary to deliver the Savior into the world, but only having doors slammed in your face. I wonder if he was discouraged, or frustrated, wondering how God was going to help them bring this miracle to pass. I'm sure he had a lot of faith that they would find somewhere for his wife to bring this special baby into the world. He must have, because they did find a place. Eventually there was a door opened--though it wasn't the "door" they expected. It was a stable-a cave really, where the animals were kept. Then came the unlikely, humble witnesses to the Savior's birth--the Shepherds to meet the baby who is the lamb of God. What a divine way it all came about. It rarely happens the way we expect or anticipate. But (my new favorite scripture from the nativity story, Luke 1:37, "For with God nothing shall be impossible."