wild*life

On Thursday we all went to see Dr. Antsy for our annual well big boy check-ups.  Jakey started calling Dr. Nancy, Dr. Antsy, quite some time ago.  We don’t have any funny grandparent names… but we do have Dr. Antsy.

So the night before, I tried to prepare Jakey.  I told him he might have to get a shot.  It might hurt.  All the internet kid experts recommend you do this.  No lying about shots not hurting, etc., etc.  I didn’t put it out there that he could get 2 or 3.  I didn’t think he (or I) could handle that news.  I still remember a visit where Natesy got one in each arm and one in each thigh.  All he could do was sob and look at me like, Why?  Why would you hurt poor little adorable me?

JJ had a hard time falling asleep.  And then the next morning he woke up and immediately told me how he had dreams about going to the doctor and getting a shot.  “Mama, I don’t like needles.”  My small prep talk served to make him sufficiently sleepless and anxious.  Awesome.

We get there and for the first time, Jacob stepped-up on the scale, without hesitation, to be weighed and measured.  Nate followed suit and it was a dramatic improvement from the naked baby sobbing and reaching from the clear plastic baby boat/scale.

The we go check Jakey’s hearing in a special room with ear phones and a button.  The nurse claims he can hear just fine.  I’m not so sure.  Based on bedtime last night, I think maybe we need to go in for a re-test.

We head into the exam room and hang out for awhile.  Chat with Dr. Antsy.  She works her magic, checking all their parts and making it seem like they’re just playing and tickling.  Just as I suspected, Nate’s weight is equal to a ton of bricks.  Yep, the conversion rate is 32 lbs. of cherubic two-year-old = 1 ton of bricks.

Dr. Antsy leaves and the two nurses come in for near simultaneous shot time.  I see JJ take a look at the syringe and he starts to get panicky.  My mind starts racing, thinking about my brother biting and kicking doctors.  The stories Melanie has told me about Amelia screaming and kicking and 3 people holding her down.

Wait, what?  It’s over?  Jacob didn’t even shed a tear.  Two seconds later, Nate’s done, too.  Not a peep.  Holy parenthood jackpot!  Get those nurses a raise.  We pick out two lemon lollipops, two lion stickers and we’re on our way.

See you next year.  (One can hope…)

Nate: 18 Month Baby Stats (I’m a little behind in updating the medical stats portion of this blog):
Weight: 28 lbs 2.6 oz.: 89% (up from 80%)
Height 2′ 10″: 90% (up from 64%)
Head Circumference: 49cm: 86.99% (up from 72.56%)

Nate: 2-Year Stats:
Weight: 32 lbs: 87% (down from 89%)
Height: 2’11.75″, 77% (down from 90%)
Head Circumference: 49.5cm, 70% (down from 86.99%)

In one year, Nate has grown almost 6 inches and gained more than 8 lbs.

Jake: 4-Year Stats:
Weight: 39lbs 2oz, 75% (up from 67.77%)
Height: 3’5″, 64% (down from 86.74%)
73.59 percentile (down from 81.9 percentile)

And in one year, Jake has grown 1.5″ and gained just over 6 lbs.

So, uh, Nate is two.  And you know what they say about two…

The other day he decided he was just going to stroll on over to Pat and Clarence’s house.  According to James, he never looked back.  I got a glimpse of this at Happy Hollow after our birthday party when he took off like a shot.  Luckily Helen was watching him.

I’m joking.

And then there’s dinner.  Nate thinks dinnertime is his cue for a Jackson Pollock drum solo.  Most nights he loses his fork rights.  Well, every night.  Tonight is was for spaghetti conducting.  Seems he does it for spits and giggles.  (Again, the perfect baby boutique name.  I’m a MACHINE.)

He has learned to choke down lettuce in exchange for chocolate.  After manhandling the lettuce like balled-up Kleenex.

His latest thing is money.  He has to have a fist full of coins, “Money.  Money.  Money.”  But of course this money is easy to drop into car seat cracks and backseat crevices… as we’re driving over the likes of Highway 17.  No one seems to understand that I am not Elastigirl.  The sobbing is crazy.

Even worse is the pre-bedtime post-bathtime diaper change.  Once he’s lost his bathtub privileges for excessive splashing, we generally carry him wriggling and no’ing to the changing table.  Where he cries until his lips turn blue.  He’s been doing this long before he realized he’s an independent being possessing free will.

And I cannot get this child to sit on his bottom to save my life.  He is constantly walking around our breakfast nook bench, doing headstands on our new chairs, climbing his high chair like a play structure.  Though he does sit still during Time Out.  He’s gotten some pretty good practice over the last few months.

Tonight Natesy said “I love you” for the first time and it was so cute…  wait, what was this blog about again?

Back when I was on sabbatical, I took Natesy on a date to a kid gym where there were all sorts of play structures and climbing apparatus and two-thirds of the class was named Jagger.  One of the moms told me Nate was clearly going to be a jock because he refused to do any of the activities except repeat the word “ball” one hundred times and roll them around in an attempt to bowl over other kids and trip their mommies.  She kind of had a point.

Then almost a week ago we got a group text from Miss Dulce with the following picture and a message: He loves rocks.  Nate impresses me.  He is so good at math I’m doing an observation on him that I’ll share later.

Huh?  Now I have absolutely no idea what impressive math skills a two-year-old is able to demonstrate as he lays around on the concrete lining-up rocks.

Does it matter?  Every parent wants to get a text about their kid saying they have some trait that seems genetically impossible given that numbers don’t come naturally to my immediate family.  Even if he isn’t mathematically predisposed, just thinking it probably ups his chances dramatically.

And given that he is only now putting together sentences, notwithstanding “I did it,” I would be so excited if he was quantitatively inclined.  By the way, he has two new sentences:  “I don’t know” and tonight, after a howl from James, “I ba da.”

“What?  You bit daddy?”

“Yeah.”

Tonight I quizzed his counting on our way home from Pasta P.  I can say every other number and he’ll say the right one that comes after it, all the way to twelve.  Who knew?

I did take two geology classes in college… he must get it from me.

Eleven days ago, Jacob James turned the big 4.  I’m running a bit behind on my commemorative blogging… and maybe a few other things *cough laundry cough*.  He’s been talking about when he “gets 4” for months now.  And now that he’s reached it, he’s already talking about when he gets 5.

In the meantime, he’s planning all the things he wants to do.  He wants us to take him hunting.  For what?  I’m afraid to ask.  He even has a plan for Nate.  “We’ll take Nake to Grandma’s house so she can watch him and then you and me and Daddy and Granddad can go hunting.  Nake is too little to go hunting, right Mom?”  I appreciate that he’s thinking through the logistical details.  Grandma probably doesn’t want to go hunting anyway.

Jakey loves swimming.  And talking about coconuts.  Everything is coconuts these days.  “What’d you do at school today?”  “Coconuts.”  “Who’d you play with?”  “Coconuts.”  And every dinner conversation seems to involve, “May I have some more sauce, Coconut Mama?”  To me it’s just nuts.

He loves animals and trying to lure birds into his birdhouse.  This weekend he drew a bird on a piece of wood and then nailed the “sign” to the tree so birds can follow it.  He’s learning shapes and numbers and can write a recognizable J and A.  His favorite food is gyoza drenched in rice vinegar.  Well, it probably ties with chocolate.  He eats salad and prawns and all manner of fruits and vegetables.  He’s recently replaced his Sunday morning pancakes with lox on francese toast.   He still won’t eat kid food like mac & cheese, quesadillas or hamburgers.  His pockets are full of rocks and avocado pits.

JJ still works in Santa Cruz.  So do his puppies.  He’s very into cooking.  “No real food, Mama, I want to cook real food.”  He likes building and hammering and checking the weather on Daddy’s iPhone.  He still doesn’t like sleeping, but he can actually be talked into laying in his bed at nap time.  This is a dramatic achievement.  He is a stealthy negotiator, especially when it comes to book reading.

He is eager to implement time outs… for Nate.  And three days before his birthday, he left his nighttime pull-ups behind, cold turkey.  As well as the evening round of milk baba’s (sippy cups).  What else can I say…

“Hey James, what’s Jakey into these days?”

“Coconuts.”

“Yeah, got that.”

Back when I spent time going to the gym, watching movies and eating out at places without crayons, I did not have even the slightest knowledge of what I call “clothes management.”  This is the phenomenon whereby I am required to sift through the clothing of my rapidly growing children approximately every other weekend:

Piles to give away,
piles for the rag bag,
piles to keep for Nate,
piles to keep for posterity,
piles to save for colder weather,
piles to save for warmer weather,
piles to mend,
piles to take the tags off and wash,
piles to bleach,
piles to return to school,
piles to restock our school pile,
piles to see if they still fit,
piles to keep, hoping the next one doesn’t think it’s “scratchy.”

I’m telling you… clothes management is a full-time job.

I already have a full-time job.

Natesy is going through a bit of a fearful phase.  He’s not keen on dogs.  Swimming lessons have been rough, and clearly there was the kitchen demolition plastic ghost chapter.  Speaking of ghosts, apparently while I was away on business, James got a steaming bowl of food out of the microwave.  Jacob said something about the steam looking like a ghost and Nathaniel was so scared, he couldn’t sit down at the dinner table and spent the evening muttering, “Ghost… ghost.”

And speaking of supernatural phenomenon, my mind is a switch.  Basically, the second my head hits the pillow, I’m out.  And I can fall asleep almost anywhere.  The downside is that I have vivid, crazy dreams.  Almost always bad.  There have been times in my life where I was perpetually exhausted because I spent the entire night dreaming and it seems that maybe, just possibly, I’ve passed on these quirks to my little Nate.

I still remember several recurring dreams from when I was three or four.  There was the giant that was peering into my roofless house as I hid under the furniture.  Two clowns at the top of the stairs.  A gorilla from Sesame Street in my closet.  But the worst, the worst was a lion that would sit outside on our deck and look for me through the sliding glass doors.

Over the last few weeks there have been a number of incidents.  Fortunately only once or twice in the middle of the night.  Natesy will wake-up, shaking and pointing toward his windows or the corners of his room whispering in a panic, “Lilon.  Lilon.”

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Bad dream.”

A couple of weekends ago at Kelly’s Bakery, Nate quick went over, touched a doggie and then ran back to the safety of our table.  I’d say that’s progress.

Now how exactly do you overcome a fear of lilons?…

Back when he was two, Jacob told us he wanted a Jeep for his third birthday.  He got two toy Jeeps, but apparently they were not really what he had in his little toddler mind.  He wanted an actual Jeep.  Or at least a kid-sized Jeep that he could drive around.

In the last couple of months, post-Christmas, he was telling me how he still wants a Jeep.  He’s also been keeping tabs on all the things Santa “forgot to buy” him: A play kitchen.  A climbing rope.  A whale rescue mission.  It was like a laundry list of everything he’s ever asked for during the four short years he’s been on this earth.

For the record, I’m fairly certain he wanted a climbing rope with a grappling hook that he could shoot at buildings/bunk beds and then climb up them.  I’m 100% certain the toy market does not have an offering of this nature with a “safe for 3 and up” sticker.  And also for the record, I read all about whale rescue missions on Amazon and the reviews were the pits.

Now, let us recall that just a few weeks ago, I still had an old white refrigerator taking up valuable space in my dining room… left over from our fancy camping days.  James finally got Julio to help him move it to the garage.

And then what happened?  Just as I had finally moved the entire kitchen out of my dining room?  I got the brilliant idea to move an entire kitchen into my dining room.  You think I’m kidding…

If you can’t have a play kitchen when you’re thirty-something, I mean 4 and 2, when the heck can you?  And yes, I did have my Craig’s List cast-off painted to match my new kitchen.  If I’m going to reinstall the fancy camping set-up, it’s most definitely going to be on-trend.

I’m not sure what it is exactly, but I crave TV.  Crave it.  I think it’s probably because there were those 3 years of grad school where I never really had a chance to relax… followed by close to 4 years of life with little munchkins… and no time to relax.  If I’m lucky, I might get an hour in the evening with my buddy Tivo, and James of course.  Those of you who’ve witnessed how giddy I get when I hear the Tivo buhbleep buhbleep BuhBLEEP buhbleeP are aware that I may be a little alone time deficient.  It might also be a result of my rural childhood with the following channels: 3, 8, 11, 35 and 46.  Yes, I still have that memorized.

And now, we have a problem.  Tivo believes my house is inhabited by a pack of 3-year-olds with unlimited free time to watch cartoons.  Honestly, we currently have 37 “Tivo suggestions” and nothing to watch for someone who does not appreciate bathroom company.  (That’s a real term.  I read an article on BabyCenter.com.)

When Jakey was littler, things were simple.  We watched Handy Manny, Timmy Time and Special Agent Oso.  I knew the characters.  I knew the episodic formulas.  I was a master of a new domain.

But now, now I’m falling behind.  He gets to watch two shows after school while his dad makes dinner.  About an hour a day.  And now the choices and possibilities have exploded exponentially.  There’s The Berenstain Bears, Fireman Sam, Jungle Junction, Dinosaur Train, Doc McStuffins, Max & Ruby, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Pajanimals, Animal Mechanicals, Babar, Dora, Diego, Caillou, Bob the Builder, Rory the Racing Car, Thomas, Kipper, Team Umizoomi, Yo Gabba Gabba, Chuggington, Imagination Movers, Jake and the Never Land Pirates, Little Einsteins, Octonauts, and Wonder Pets.

I recently spent the weekend out with my girlfriends for a Bachelorette party and what was the most heated discussion?  The merits, or lack thereof, between Barney and Caillou.  You don’t have to say it… we know.  I found a pacifier in my pocket during this “wild” night out.

I’m thinking of developing my own parental cheat sheet for Sprout, Nick Jr., Disney Junior and the Hub.  Something like:

• Max & Ruby: Cute bunnies.  Fun to watch.  Your child may devolve to one word repetition in an effort to emulate Max.
• Caillou: Whiny bald kid.  Today’s Charlie Brown?
• Shawn the Sheep: The British teenage claymation version of Timmy Time.  No words just sound effects.  Hilarious.
• Jungle Junction: Animals with wheels like cars.  Some have clever names like Taxicrab.  Most do not.
• Dinosaur Train: Dinosaurs that ride a train.
• Animal Mechanicals: Mystical transformer-like creatures including a unicorn, T-Rex, Sasquatch, and dragon.  And a mouse (?).  You will find yourself exclaiming “Mechana-stretchy!”
• Wonder Pets: Torture.  Don’t get me started on Ming-Ming Duckling and her speech impediment.
• Little Einsteins: Jake calls them Little Einsteims.  This show will not make your child smarter.

Last week James proclaimed to his offspring, “Octonauts, let’s do this!”  A straight quote from the show I’m told.

At least I feel a little bit better about our Bachelorette party.  I don’t remember anyone quoting cartoons.

Clearly, a Glamour DON’T

I’m always thinking about names for businesses that I’ll most certainly never have.  Why, Jaimie?  You could open a business.  Yes, yes I could.  But really, it’s unlikely I’ll open a chain of drinking establishments called the Crow Bar and Sand Bar and Bar Mitvah and Bar Bacoa.  I don’t know why my mind is always pondering this… think of the things I could in fact be accomplishing.

Besides bars, I’m always thinking about cute names for baby boutiques.  Yes, bars and baby stores.  This is what I think about.  My favorite used to be “Opples and Bononos.”  That’s been my favorite since Kathy Brown’s preschool.  Because I’m an October baby so I like opals.  Stay with me.

Yesterday, I came up with a new baby store name inspired by my dearest two-year-old Nake.  I’ll call it “No It All.”

Super cute, right?  Maybe I should rebrand my blog…

There was once a time when I was constantly being followed by organic baby puffs.  They’re these little cereal-like rings that taste like the Host and purport to be made of spinach and beet juice and other nutritious sounding ingredients.  They were stealthy… always looking so innocent once they were caught.  I remember finding them in cup holders, at the bottom of my purse, and I can vividly recall seeing one inside the heating vent.

At some point, I was able to outsmart the puff.  Shook my tail.  Lost ’em.  But now… now there’s a new fugitive lurking in the shadows.  Hiding behind every sleeve:

The wood chip.

It’s everywhere…

And tastes remarkably like its predecessor.