So I headed to Walmart with my children this morning to purchase their Easter baskets and fixin's. I know, I am the most fun mom out there, spoiling all the surprises by letting Mikayla hold all the Easter presents in her lap in the back of the cart. But I think it's more realistic than mean to say that hiding her Easter basket for the next four days will re-set the surprise meter. At the beginning of your life and again at the end, you could hide your own Easter eggs and still have fun hunting for them, right Dad? (He has been telling me for years that he can hide his own Easter eggs. I figure he'd be happy to know he has cute company in the short-attention-span/poor-memory camp.)
Mikayla picked out the Easter baskets. Pink for herself, blue for Isaac. There were other options, but the girl apparently goes the conventional route once in a great while. I tossed a few bags of goodies into the cart, which Mikayla is too young and naive to be excited about. I'll refrain from naming them because a few of these might turn out to be surprises for the hubs. I saved $1.97 by not getting him an Easter basket, but an Easter plastic bag gets to be exciting when you're pushing 30.
It only took an hour, but it felt like eons in a purgatory of cheap plastic pastel. They almost had me at the Easter bunny sippy cup, but this is not my first rodeo. That sucker is going to pop at its poorly-glued seams the first time a certain somebody squeezes it with all her two-year-old gusto. Instead, found a ten pack of Hanes socks that included pink and purple and should fit into a few plastic eggs (why stop at Christmas stocking when you want to give boring/awkward necessities as gifts?). AND. The poor girl has been begging for a belt for ages. She watches momma and dadda belt our jeans and asks to wear one. I've tried the double-wrap around her tiny tummy but we both know she looks a little ridiculous at that point. Today, I found a two-pack of sparkly belts, one white/silver, and the other pink, in toddler size, for the low Walmart price of "this might actually last you through the summer if little brother doesn't chew on it". Also, shades and a sweet sun hat. Mikayla totally wore the sun hat through the entire store as she carried her Easter basket. Again, best mom ever. Isaac spent the trip chewing on a bag of green plastic grass, so I'm pretty sure that seals the "Mom of the Year" deal.
I also needed a few things for myself, such as leggings and those little invisible socks you can wear with dressy shoes. Of course they were superbly organized and took hardly any time and effort to actually find the right color and size. Meanwhile, Mikayla filled her Easter basket with ladies' socks and a bra and Isaac learned how to stand up in the front of the shopping cart. I can only hope he learns how to apply that skill every time I try to strap him into something.
And then it was time to hit the checkout. Always the best and most enjoyable part of any Walmart trip, right? Lo and behold, God's providence smiled upon us. Just as we rounded the corner, with Mikayla helping me push the cart/being dragged along the side as she attempted to name every object and person we passed, I saw her. An angel in a blue Walmart vest standing behind an empty Express lane register. I may or may not have heard cherub voices serenading our approach, but I'm 80% sure a soft heavenly light shone down upon her name badge. We made it through there in five minutes, which felt like it was only twice that long as Mikayla struggled to understand why her pink hat and beautiful pink basket were wrenched from her grasp and dragged away on the conveyor belt of doom. Toddler problems.
By the time we were loading into the car, Mikayla was genuinely irrational. She wanted to hold her basket, no she wanted her book, no she wanted to get into the car, no she wanted to ride on the roof while singing Itsy Bitsy Spider. Momma pulled out the crackers, and the tears evaporated into thin air. Eyes still red and nose still flowing, Mikayla looked at me and said around a mouthful of Wheat Thins, "Crackers make me happy, momma! I not sad anymore!" I thought back to my first outings with Mikayla long ago, the times I spent frazzled and weary from public restroom diaper changes and pleading with my infant to stop crying, and I realized how truly seasoned I have become. I am a professional sippy-cup-carrying, cracker-wielding mother of two. I have learned to pack snacks over diapers any day of the week because of EFFICIENCY in bag space and implementation effort. A child will happily forget about a soggy bottom for awhile when he or she has fistfuls of food to devour. And really, regardless of the problem, crackers make it all better, at least temporarily. Motherhood is 70% strategy and 30% praying for grace. And strategy is 98% crackers.
So we made it home, and the children are napping. Except for Isaac, who just woke up because he can tell when Momma has set a goal to accomplish and he apparently has lots of help to contribute. My goal is to put together Easter baskets and then hide them in our new bathroom closet until Sunday so that the toddler memory wipe can commence.
That reminds me, we girls tried on our Easter dresses today between lunch and naptime. Mikayla bestowed her approval upon my dress and legging combo, and she looked just angelic in her fancy light-pink dress and flower headband. It seemed like a good time to show her how a lady stands and curtsies, but the girl all but fell over trying to execute the curtsy. Have you seen Rogers & Hammersteins' Cinderella? Think nasty stepsister #2.
Those Easter baskets aren't filling themselves. Thanks for reading along, and remember, if you go to Walmart, don't forget a snack!
The Washing Machine is More Thankful Than I Am
About two weeks ago, Mikayla decided to boycott the whole potty thing. She had been doing well for several weeks, with perhaps a couple dribbles or full-fledged accidents a day, but overall grasping the concept and motivated to put her pee pee where it belongs. It was a dark and stormy Friday when she felt she had had enough of the potty concept and would simply let loose wherever she stood. Momma's lap included. Friday and Saturday actually blur together a bit because Joel worked that weekend, but I do remember lots of laundry and lots of wine (for me after bedtime, not for her...though that probably would have explained the problem a bit, eh?). I reasoned. I begged. I pleaded. I almost cried. Nothing seemed to change the determination with which she looked me straight in the eye, said "pee pee in the potty!" and urinated straight down her leg and into her socks/shoes/momma's slippers.
For close to a week, I was washing almost all her 16 pairs of undies every other day. Other parents assured me this was a normal phase, and I read that it was a result of Mikayla mastering the skill and getting bored with it. I guess. Child psychology feels like voodoo sometimes, even to the thoroughly initiated. All I knew was that it had. to. stop. And that retreat was not an option. To return to diapers would be an admission of failure and confusing to Mikayla. It would ensure eternal revocation of my crunchy, homemade-baby-food-making, cloth-diapering, overachieving momma membership card.
So we hung in there, through dinners that involved four changes of undies and ended in Mikayla pantless and sitting on a towel. Don't even ask me about the poop.
And just as suddenly as it began, the rebellious phase ended. Mikayla woke up exactly one week later and decided that she had punished her poor momma enough. In fact, from that morning on, she commanded me to wait in the hallway while she pottied by herself. Ours is a purely utilitarian relationship at times. I gain admission into the royal presence when she realizes that wiping her own bottom would be beneath her. (Literally. See what I did there?) She also needs me to reach the yogurt raisins and stickers, which are her potty reward. Of course, she's not strong enough yet to completely disdain me, so we have lots of giggles and squeals along the way because we are both so proud of her for going on the potty!
And people, she has even started pooping on the potty. Several times. By herself. Once she waddled into my room with her pants around her ankles to tell me she had pottied by herself, and we much later discovered the #2 evidence in the bathroom. That girl.
I am already strategizing with regard to makeup and leg-shaving.
For all the sarcasm and desperation that go through my mind at times, I hope you all know me well enough to trust that I am so delighted by Mikayla's growth and determination. She is so elated when she does something by herself, and it fills my heart up with so much gratitude and love. We have done the happy potty dance together many, many times. The Lord has outdone Himself in His goodness to us in our sweet children <3 .="" p="">
Isaac's First Birthday Post
I'm not sure quite how or when, but a whole year has gone by since Isaac came into our lives. From a little blue line to his peaceful water birth, and now his precious kisses and doe eyes, it seems he has been nothing but sweetness and laughter in our lives. Sleepless nights, an overnight hospital visit, and that bathtub full of poop not withstanding.
His current existence might be summed up by saying he is on the move. Since he discovered his ability to clamber up the stairs a month ago, he has spent most of his waking time attempting just that. I regularly discover him sitting at the top of the stairs doing nothing in particular, just waiting for me to come bask in the joy of his wonderful accomplishment. So far he hasn't attempted the descent, even by accident, but I'm just waiting for that moment to come. His love of the stairs is so great that he has invented a way to teleport himself through a barricade consisting of two to three dining room chairs placed in various configurations at the foot of the stairs, without moving them or making a sound. No, but seriously, I've never seen him do it, but the chairs apparently are small fries for this guy. Carrying him upstairs for diaper changes and bedtimes? No deal. He will wiggle and squirm until I concede and let him crawl up himself. Usually, I give in at the landing, and head up the stairs ahead of him to enjoy the sight of his little grinning face bobbing toward me as he climbs. This activity rivals only the eating of cheerios for Isaac's greatest pleasure.
Isaac splashes around in the bathtub with his big sister, squealing with delight and tolerating her bossy ways. He tries to climb into the tub by himself (which, a baby boy trying to climb over something that is clearly too big for him, while naked, is the dearest, funniest thing to watch!). He succeeds in climbing onto the bathroom stepstool, two steps up, while hanging for dear life onto the drawer, which he pulls out for that purpose. My little problem solver.
Splashing in the toilet, unrolling the toilet paper, demolishing window blinds. These are a few more of his favorite things. Along with unabashedly watching his sister do every little thing she does. I can only hope he is learning all her tricks and foibles, because it would be such a breeze to have two with her penchant for opinions and independence. They enjoy each other so much, whether obliviously engaging in parallel play or vying for the same blue mega block (they are not created equal and it's apparently not worth having if it is not also worth fighting for).
Other miscellaneous details: He's been in size 12 month clothing for a few months now (well, ought to have been...I've been squeezing him into some 6-9 shirts until my parents' birthday package for him arrived last week!). Six teeth present and accounted for. Eating some finger foods but prefers being spoon fed for most things because if you could get somebody else to do your work, wouldn't you? Says mama, dada, banana, moo, and amen if you know what to listen for, usually repeating after somebody rather than saying them spontaneously (he'll answer "What does a cow say?"). He signs "all done!" after meals and tends to just gesture wildly for "more" and "drink". We get the point. My little pragmatist. He waves, claps, tells us he is "so big!" or, as we joke, "sorta big", because he often throws up just one hand.
Favorite foods include, in order of preference, cheerios, graham crackers, banana puffs, anything with applesauce, oatmeal, yogurt, anything with black beans. He's grown tired of plain avocado lately but will eat it with yogurt or applesauce stirred in. Ditto sweet potato, we sometimes have to add some seasoning or other food. He eats a whole bowl of oatmeal with a banana and yogurt stirred in for breakfast. Meats are no sweat, and he loves most veggies and potatoes. Of all things he loves to eat, his cookie monster-blue birthday cupcakes were not among them. He was decidedly underwhelmed and even cried when I tried to force-feed him a bite.
His temperament is so mellow and quiet most of the time. He can tolerate so much of Mikayla's toddler antics, and sits peacefully when I tow them to doctor's appointments and the store. People marvel at how great my kids are, and I attribute it to Joel's laid-back 50% of the gene pool for sure.
In closing, I told Mikayla that I am writing a birthday post for Isaac, and asked what I should write. Mikayla would like to share a very robust "Happy birthday to you!" with her little brother.
Measurements coming soon. His one-year well baby visit is tomorrow, and then I'll come back and update with his weight and length for the record books you are all keeping at home.
**We had a great doctor's appointment! He weighed in at 24.4 lbs and 30.5" long, 75th percentile for both. The nurse practitioner thought he looked perfect in every way other than that pesky diaper rash, which is totally going to embarrass him later if he ever looks back on his birthday posts when he is older.
His current existence might be summed up by saying he is on the move. Since he discovered his ability to clamber up the stairs a month ago, he has spent most of his waking time attempting just that. I regularly discover him sitting at the top of the stairs doing nothing in particular, just waiting for me to come bask in the joy of his wonderful accomplishment. So far he hasn't attempted the descent, even by accident, but I'm just waiting for that moment to come. His love of the stairs is so great that he has invented a way to teleport himself through a barricade consisting of two to three dining room chairs placed in various configurations at the foot of the stairs, without moving them or making a sound. No, but seriously, I've never seen him do it, but the chairs apparently are small fries for this guy. Carrying him upstairs for diaper changes and bedtimes? No deal. He will wiggle and squirm until I concede and let him crawl up himself. Usually, I give in at the landing, and head up the stairs ahead of him to enjoy the sight of his little grinning face bobbing toward me as he climbs. This activity rivals only the eating of cheerios for Isaac's greatest pleasure.
Isaac splashes around in the bathtub with his big sister, squealing with delight and tolerating her bossy ways. He tries to climb into the tub by himself (which, a baby boy trying to climb over something that is clearly too big for him, while naked, is the dearest, funniest thing to watch!). He succeeds in climbing onto the bathroom stepstool, two steps up, while hanging for dear life onto the drawer, which he pulls out for that purpose. My little problem solver.
Splashing in the toilet, unrolling the toilet paper, demolishing window blinds. These are a few more of his favorite things. Along with unabashedly watching his sister do every little thing she does. I can only hope he is learning all her tricks and foibles, because it would be such a breeze to have two with her penchant for opinions and independence. They enjoy each other so much, whether obliviously engaging in parallel play or vying for the same blue mega block (they are not created equal and it's apparently not worth having if it is not also worth fighting for).
Other miscellaneous details: He's been in size 12 month clothing for a few months now (well, ought to have been...I've been squeezing him into some 6-9 shirts until my parents' birthday package for him arrived last week!). Six teeth present and accounted for. Eating some finger foods but prefers being spoon fed for most things because if you could get somebody else to do your work, wouldn't you? Says mama, dada, banana, moo, and amen if you know what to listen for, usually repeating after somebody rather than saying them spontaneously (he'll answer "What does a cow say?"). He signs "all done!" after meals and tends to just gesture wildly for "more" and "drink". We get the point. My little pragmatist. He waves, claps, tells us he is "so big!" or, as we joke, "sorta big", because he often throws up just one hand.
Favorite foods include, in order of preference, cheerios, graham crackers, banana puffs, anything with applesauce, oatmeal, yogurt, anything with black beans. He's grown tired of plain avocado lately but will eat it with yogurt or applesauce stirred in. Ditto sweet potato, we sometimes have to add some seasoning or other food. He eats a whole bowl of oatmeal with a banana and yogurt stirred in for breakfast. Meats are no sweat, and he loves most veggies and potatoes. Of all things he loves to eat, his cookie monster-blue birthday cupcakes were not among them. He was decidedly underwhelmed and even cried when I tried to force-feed him a bite.
His temperament is so mellow and quiet most of the time. He can tolerate so much of Mikayla's toddler antics, and sits peacefully when I tow them to doctor's appointments and the store. People marvel at how great my kids are, and I attribute it to Joel's laid-back 50% of the gene pool for sure.
In closing, I told Mikayla that I am writing a birthday post for Isaac, and asked what I should write. Mikayla would like to share a very robust "Happy birthday to you!" with her little brother.
Measurements coming soon. His one-year well baby visit is tomorrow, and then I'll come back and update with his weight and length for the record books you are all keeping at home.
**We had a great doctor's appointment! He weighed in at 24.4 lbs and 30.5" long, 75th percentile for both. The nurse practitioner thought he looked perfect in every way other than that pesky diaper rash, which is totally going to embarrass him later if he ever looks back on his birthday posts when he is older.
Meanwhile, we will continue to praise God for the sweet, surprise blessing of Isaac. I feel like I say this all too often, and yet not nearly enough: We are undeserving of such goodness from the Lord's hand. Thank you, dear Father, for the great challenges and rewards of parenthood.
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