...and yet, there's this little voice that tells me it must be shared.
After a week of gray days and fairly constant rain, the sunny warmth drew us outside for a walk this afternoon. Jed stayed home to finish his nap, so I pushed Adelaide along in her stroller and Levi skipped ahead and behind and all around. It was just going to be a 20-minute walk or so. No big deal.
But five minutes in, Levi stopped and exclaimed that he needed to go potty. Now, he's a boy, so when we can be pretty discreet, and when we're far away from an actual potty, I'll let him go in nature. We were near a beautiful, giant Christmas tree whose bottom branches formed a circle with about a 15-foot diameter. It stood on the yard-like strip of grass between the sidewalk and the condo carports on the other side. There was a void in its broad skirt of branches on a back portion of the tree, and I directed Levi to sort of enter inside the tree from that empty spot. No one was around. He went in and dropped his pants, which I thought somewhat odd, but didn't care. I told him to hurry and began looking around sort of nervously.
It's so rare to actually pass someone on this path, but don't you know, this day would be different. This day would give us a spectator. It was a guy, and he appeared to be in college, so I figured, "If anyone would understand, surely this dude would." As he approached, I glanced over at Levi to see if he was finished, and he was just standing there, pants around his ankles, arms to his sides. "What is he doing?" I thought with my nerves starting to constrict. No sooner had I thought the thought than, and just prepare yourselves for this, but two long poops fell from his behind. Onto the grass.
Just like a little horse. Out in a pasture. No concerns in the world. Just an animal doing whatever he wants. In public. For passersby. There's no shame. Only freedom and joy.
I quickly searched for a deep well into which I could jump head first, considered removing the drain grate from the street next to me and disappearing there, but instead, I looked right up at the guy, and smiled, "Excuse us."
Then I buried my head in my arms on the stroller pusher-bar and burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Awkward. The guy just smiled and kept going, oh so graciously and calmly.
When I looked back up at Levi, he was looking around at stuff and pulling up his pants. I decided if ever there was a "teachable moment," this had to be one, and I gave him the run-down about what is not and what is (sort of) acceptable in outdoor voiding etiquette. He genuinely seemed confused as to why that was the case, and I just gave my best explanation followed by, "Just don't do it." How could I have missed this important tidbit of distinction that first time he "went" in the trees? Things you just don't think about until you're staring it down in real time.
We made our circuit, and when we passed back by "The Spot" on our way home, Levi sauntered by, then ran back and shouted, "Hey, that's where I went poop!" Fortunately, no passersby. Unfortunately, I don't think I communicated the gravity of the situation.
I mean, what's worse? The dog owner who doesn't pick up after their dog, or the HUMAN owner who doesn't pick after their HUMAN? I left it there for two reasons: I had no means by which to tidily remove it, and it was hidden. OK, three reasons: it's good fertilizer, dang it.
How was I supposed to know I should've brought along one of those little plastic baggies?!
Anyway, I can assure you that now we both know better. No more free-little-pony-in-the-field for Levi.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
And Then There Was Adelaide
We knew her 18 months before she was conceived. We knew her name was Adelaide, a reference to the noble stature we are privileged and expected to assume as sons of God. We prayed for her and called for her, and our apostle had a dream about her until...there she was!
Mild-tempered, quick-minded, and full of giggles, she has made this year fun and fast. Starting with a fairly uneventful and, dare I say, easy labor (thanks, at the end, to the epidural I tried yet again to avoid until I changed my mind, ha!), this first year has pretty much followed suit (recurring thrush and teething episodes aside [and for which there was no epidural]).
She has ensured that she totally owns her daddy, has earned the affections of her big brother, and has also begun to learn to put that big brother in his place if necessary.
The dark, almost black eyes, the widest-mouth screams of protest, the head tossing from side to side as she crawls around excitedly, the bouncy dance done to Daddy's beat-boxing, the little head-butt nuzzles, and the various laughs from cackly to robust all speak of "Adelaide: Year One" in our memories.
Miss Adelaide Vivian, you are such a joy and a glory and a blessing to our family! Yahweh has great purpose for your life, and we bless you to know Him and to love Him, to love authority, obedience, and the total trusting yieldedness of being off the edge in the spirit. May you never be hindered by perceived limits as you take Him at His word.
We love you, sweet Bitty. Happy Birthday!
Mild-tempered, quick-minded, and full of giggles, she has made this year fun and fast. Starting with a fairly uneventful and, dare I say, easy labor (thanks, at the end, to the epidural I tried yet again to avoid until I changed my mind, ha!), this first year has pretty much followed suit (recurring thrush and teething episodes aside [and for which there was no epidural]).
She has ensured that she totally owns her daddy, has earned the affections of her big brother, and has also begun to learn to put that big brother in his place if necessary.
The dark, almost black eyes, the widest-mouth screams of protest, the head tossing from side to side as she crawls around excitedly, the bouncy dance done to Daddy's beat-boxing, the little head-butt nuzzles, and the various laughs from cackly to robust all speak of "Adelaide: Year One" in our memories.
Miss Adelaide Vivian, you are such a joy and a glory and a blessing to our family! Yahweh has great purpose for your life, and we bless you to know Him and to love Him, to love authority, obedience, and the total trusting yieldedness of being off the edge in the spirit. May you never be hindered by perceived limits as you take Him at His word.
We love you, sweet Bitty. Happy Birthday!
Friday, May 20, 2011
A Year Ago Today...
...was my due date with Adelaide: May 20. I was as big as a house. Mom was in town, and we took Levi to the park to let him play and to get my mind off the whole impending-delivery thing that takes over one's thoughts.
I got my hair trimmed that day, and it was such a quick trim that my stylist took me back to the massage room and gave me a foot massage to relax the aches and maybe induce labor. I had told her that I was feeling "funny" that day. Something was happening. And she got a great tip.
At church that night, a friend said, "Oh, you're going into labor tonight. You have that different walk going on." (I think "different walk" equates to "funky duck waddle" or possibly "been-riding-a-horse-too-long mosey.") I told her I felt "funny" and that I had the same notion.
Lo and behold, I awoke that night at around 1:30 a.m. with mild, but consistent contractions.
Adelaide was on her way!
Can't believe it's been one day shy of a year that we met our little sweetheart.
I got my hair trimmed that day, and it was such a quick trim that my stylist took me back to the massage room and gave me a foot massage to relax the aches and maybe induce labor. I had told her that I was feeling "funny" that day. Something was happening. And she got a great tip.
At church that night, a friend said, "Oh, you're going into labor tonight. You have that different walk going on." (I think "different walk" equates to "funky duck waddle" or possibly "been-riding-a-horse-too-long mosey.") I told her I felt "funny" and that I had the same notion.
Lo and behold, I awoke that night at around 1:30 a.m. with mild, but consistent contractions.
Adelaide was on her way!
Can't believe it's been one day shy of a year that we met our little sweetheart.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Hi, I'm a Parent. What Was I Saying?
Hey, parents. Remember when you were younger, when you didn't have kids, and when you were so brilliant and had it all together and wondered in hushed tones about the parents around you who seemed a bit frazzled, forgetful, crazy-eyed, and perhaps not altogether "there?"
I only ask because I have a certain, vague recollection of putting a strong brain to good use in reasonable, logical, useful ways, and often. I remembered stuff. But now that I have kids, I do strange things that do not compute. I forget mid-action what I'm even doing. It's because I'm actually doing 62 3/4 things at once, but which one was I doing just then? This is Hi-I'm-a-Parent Syndrome.
It really hit me a couple months ago when I was trying to finish my coffee, clean up breakfast, corral the kids, ponder a melody for a new song, call the pediatrician, and sweep the floor. I was sweeping when my flow was broken by the kids, and after I resolved the crisis, I (thought I) recalled what I was doing and proceeded to hold my coffee cup up to my ear and put my phone in my mouth. After I realized I can't make a phone call by chewing my phone (or, sadly, by listening to my coffee cup), I made the call and moved on to something else on my list.
Much later, I spotted the broom leaning against the wall by Jed's music station and remembered to finish sweeping.
There are also the little bits of insanity. The coffeemaker sits next to the microwave, and it's been more than once that I've removed the carafe, poured my cup of coffee, immediately considered what I needed to do next, opened the microwave door, and set the coffee carafe safely inside.
I was stirring the oatmeal on the stove this morning, emptying the dishwasher in between stirs. Adelaide loves the dishwasher and always seems to find the sharpest, most dangerous object on which to attach her affections. She also loves to climb, and will get inside the dishwasher the minute I turn my back. By now you know I can be rather slow in the morning, so I was keeping it to the oatmeal, the dishwasher, and Adelaide. Remove Adelaide, stir, stack some dishes in the cabinet, stir, remove Adelaide and soothe her protests while managing her recalcitrant little wiggles, and so forth. But somewhere along the lines, the Hi-I'm-a-Parent Syndrome overcame me, and I began to lose focus and start thinking about something else I would finish later. I remember keeping Adelaide out of trouble throughout, but it wasn't until the microwave timer I'd set for the oatmeal went off that it jolted me back to the present and I realized what I was doing. I had emptied the dishwasher, filled it with the few dirty dishes, then begun removing the dirty dishes I'd just put in there and putting them away.
I'm not sure it's the best use of my time to repeat everything I have to do, but with all the fun stuff we get to manage in our crazy, full, blessed lives, I guess it's not the worst thing to sometimes just totally forget what we
I only ask because I have a certain, vague recollection of putting a strong brain to good use in reasonable, logical, useful ways, and often. I remembered stuff. But now that I have kids, I do strange things that do not compute. I forget mid-action what I'm even doing. It's because I'm actually doing 62 3/4 things at once, but which one was I doing just then? This is Hi-I'm-a-Parent Syndrome.
It really hit me a couple months ago when I was trying to finish my coffee, clean up breakfast, corral the kids, ponder a melody for a new song, call the pediatrician, and sweep the floor. I was sweeping when my flow was broken by the kids, and after I resolved the crisis, I (thought I) recalled what I was doing and proceeded to hold my coffee cup up to my ear and put my phone in my mouth. After I realized I can't make a phone call by chewing my phone (or, sadly, by listening to my coffee cup), I made the call and moved on to something else on my list.
Much later, I spotted the broom leaning against the wall by Jed's music station and remembered to finish sweeping.
There are also the little bits of insanity. The coffeemaker sits next to the microwave, and it's been more than once that I've removed the carafe, poured my cup of coffee, immediately considered what I needed to do next, opened the microwave door, and set the coffee carafe safely inside.
I was stirring the oatmeal on the stove this morning, emptying the dishwasher in between stirs. Adelaide loves the dishwasher and always seems to find the sharpest, most dangerous object on which to attach her affections. She also loves to climb, and will get inside the dishwasher the minute I turn my back. By now you know I can be rather slow in the morning, so I was keeping it to the oatmeal, the dishwasher, and Adelaide. Remove Adelaide, stir, stack some dishes in the cabinet, stir, remove Adelaide and soothe her protests while managing her recalcitrant little wiggles, and so forth. But somewhere along the lines, the Hi-I'm-a-Parent Syndrome overcame me, and I began to lose focus and start thinking about something else I would finish later. I remember keeping Adelaide out of trouble throughout, but it wasn't until the microwave timer I'd set for the oatmeal went off that it jolted me back to the present and I realized what I was doing. I had emptied the dishwasher, filled it with the few dirty dishes, then begun removing the dirty dishes I'd just put in there and putting them away.
I'm not sure it's the best use of my time to repeat everything I have to do, but with all the fun stuff we get to manage in our crazy, full, blessed lives, I guess it's not the worst thing to sometimes just totally forget what we
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Four-Molar Race
What is it with some kids and teething? Levi's teeth just sort of showed up with minimal symptoms to indicate what was going on. I think I might remember maybe two or three times that we had to give him Tylenol because he seemed sort of uncomfortable. That's no big deal compared to the IV we have running into Adelaide's arm right now. (Before you get too upset, that's just hyperbole, but we are giving her much more, only at night, and only after days that have indicated she's in pretty substantial pain, which has been quite a lot lately.)
At around 12-14 months, kids start working on what they call the "First-Year Molars," which are their first molars. Molars, incidentally, seem to be the most painful teeth to cut through, probably because their surface is much broader and pushes up (or down) against a broader patch of gums. I've been able to see in Adelaide's mouth for about two weeks now that she has two very puffy spots in the molar region on the bottom of her mouth. But a week ago, I stuck my finger in her mouth to feel their progress when I felt two puffy spots in the molar region on the top half. And that's Adelaide for you. She has a mouth full of teeth already, which she started producing at just under 5 months, and of course, she would start her First-Year Molars at 11 months, and while they usually come in pairs, she would go ahead and get four going all at once. On the chart below, she has the teeth labeled 1 and 2, top and bottom, and now she's working on the ones labeled 4, top and bottom.
http://www.teething-babies.co.uk/teething-process/teething-chart.php
Why all the boring talk about teeth? Because, for some reason, teeth are all the rage at our house these days. And while kids are different about teething pain, parents are different about functioning on sleep loss. I have a lot to overcome when I have interrupted sleep. Adelaide interrupts my sleep. It's a sad combination!
So now I've initiated the Four-Molar Race. The last time Adelaide's teething troubles tormented me, I was on the phone with my mom and both my sisters in tears from lack of sleep and days spent soothing a cranky baby. This time, I feel as though the world is with me if I blog about it (even if it's not, of which I can remain blissfully ignorant). Of course, it's pretty much my mom and my sisters who read this blog, but that's fine! If you think this is a rather pathetic grasp at sympathy, I can only nod my head in shame.
However, this morning (and here's the great news!), after a long, long, so long night, I stuck my finger in Adelaide's mouth feeling certain I'd feel at least two fully emerged teeth. Surely, after all that turmoil and pain, her body had pushed them completely through. OK, I knew that wouldn't be the case, but what I did feel was her bottom-right molar, starting to poke through! I felt tooth! One small corner and part of a ridge. This is good news. Every little breakthrough motivates us to stay the course (As if I had a choice on this one; and of course, if I did, I'd still choose to stay the course...I like having teeth and feel like she does, too.)
So right now, the bottom-right molar is in the lead after just over two weeks. And I'd been thinking it'd be the bottom-left. (A mom's mental focus is not often the most fascinating thing to follow, clearly.)
On a final note, I joked while pregnant with Adelaide that if the adage "you are what you eat" applies to my growing baby, then I was well on my way to giving birth to Cap'n Crunch. I'm glad to have been wrong, but now I'm wondering if perhaps Adelaide is actually some sort of shark hybrid.
We won't know for sure until she starts growing her second row of teeth after she's gotten all these first ones out of the way...I'll keep you posted.
Ack! No sooner do I joke about something people should just avoid than I find out it does happen! (See below.) I apologize, Adelaide.
At around 12-14 months, kids start working on what they call the "First-Year Molars," which are their first molars. Molars, incidentally, seem to be the most painful teeth to cut through, probably because their surface is much broader and pushes up (or down) against a broader patch of gums. I've been able to see in Adelaide's mouth for about two weeks now that she has two very puffy spots in the molar region on the bottom of her mouth. But a week ago, I stuck my finger in her mouth to feel their progress when I felt two puffy spots in the molar region on the top half. And that's Adelaide for you. She has a mouth full of teeth already, which she started producing at just under 5 months, and of course, she would start her First-Year Molars at 11 months, and while they usually come in pairs, she would go ahead and get four going all at once. On the chart below, she has the teeth labeled 1 and 2, top and bottom, and now she's working on the ones labeled 4, top and bottom.
http://www.teething-babies.co.uk/teething-process/teething-chart.php
Why all the boring talk about teeth? Because, for some reason, teeth are all the rage at our house these days. And while kids are different about teething pain, parents are different about functioning on sleep loss. I have a lot to overcome when I have interrupted sleep. Adelaide interrupts my sleep. It's a sad combination!
So now I've initiated the Four-Molar Race. The last time Adelaide's teething troubles tormented me, I was on the phone with my mom and both my sisters in tears from lack of sleep and days spent soothing a cranky baby. This time, I feel as though the world is with me if I blog about it (even if it's not, of which I can remain blissfully ignorant). Of course, it's pretty much my mom and my sisters who read this blog, but that's fine! If you think this is a rather pathetic grasp at sympathy, I can only nod my head in shame.
However, this morning (and here's the great news!), after a long, long, so long night, I stuck my finger in Adelaide's mouth feeling certain I'd feel at least two fully emerged teeth. Surely, after all that turmoil and pain, her body had pushed them completely through. OK, I knew that wouldn't be the case, but what I did feel was her bottom-right molar, starting to poke through! I felt tooth! One small corner and part of a ridge. This is good news. Every little breakthrough motivates us to stay the course (As if I had a choice on this one; and of course, if I did, I'd still choose to stay the course...I like having teeth and feel like she does, too.)
So right now, the bottom-right molar is in the lead after just over two weeks. And I'd been thinking it'd be the bottom-left. (A mom's mental focus is not often the most fascinating thing to follow, clearly.)
We won't know for sure until she starts growing her second row of teeth after she's gotten all these first ones out of the way...I'll keep you posted.
Ack! No sooner do I joke about something people should just avoid than I find out it does happen! (See below.) I apologize, Adelaide.
Meanwhile, we're off to the races! And yes, I'm glad she is growing so healthy and strong!
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