wild*life

I’m having a hard time understanding how such a significant percentage of the world’s population refutes the concept of evolution.  One morning at my house and the distinct link between humans and monkeys is beyond question.  An infinitesimal mental leap.

Plus, last week at work, a VP accidentally wrote an e-mail and mistakenly copied the wrong distribution list.  The next morning I open my inbox… just another Monday….

Aaaah!  What happened to my inbox?!  There are eighty “reply all” e-mails saying things to the effect of “Take me off this e-mail list.”  “Yes, me, too.  Please remove me.”  Over and over and over.  And over.  Even after e-mails in all caps to STOP THE MADNESS, from the remorseful executive, and others with a brain.  The responses just kept coming.

Somehow this occurs every so often and really, it’s just more rock-solid evidence in support of natural selection.  And our undeniable relation to monkeys.

Or lemmings?

Somehow a thirty minute swim lesson on Saturdays has become the only thing we’re able to accomplish during the first half of our weekend.  There’s something about 11:30am that means we spend the entire morning getting ready to get in the pool,  30 minutes in the pool, and then the entire afternoon sleeping it off.

Meanwhile, I almost forgot to commemorate our latest swimming achievement.

So this past Saturday after his lesson, Coach Justin presents Jacob with a beautiful pink ribbon.  Apparently he passed an invisible test of holding his breath, jumping with a bucket on his head and retrieving bathtub toys.  It was so exciting!  Justin was beaming!  Jacob was beaming!  I was beaming!  He’s moved from Guppy to Seahorse.  We didn’t even know he was a Guppy and that Seahorse was even within our grasp.

It appears Nate is a Barnacle.  Seriously.

Our front lawn is currently experiencing a bit of a crisis, and I’m pretty sure I know why.  It’s become a jungle of dandelions.

Or should I say… dandelilons?

I hope he’s wishing for new landscaping.

Speaking of Dr. Antsy, I was recently reminded of a conversation I had with Jacob months and months ago.  We were laying in the bottom bunk and I was trying to give him advice of some kind or another (I have no idea about what… I’m hoping to get through to him while he’s still young and impressionable).  Anyway, to add some level of credibility and weight to my argument, I told him I’d read this piece of advice and that a doctor had written it (this was true, really).

Some way or another I said the doctor was a he.

“What?  He?  Mama, doctors can’t be mans.”  (He left the “Silly Mama” off the end, but he totally meant it.)

“Huh?  You think doctors can’t be men?”

“Doctors are ga-wols.”

“Because Doc McStuppins is a girl?”  Doc McStuffins is a cartoon about a little girl who takes care of her sick stuffed animals and whose mom is a doctor.  “And because Dr. Antsy is a girl?”

“Yeah.  Doctors are ga-wols.”

How could I argue with that?  I just finished Sheryl Sandberg’s latest book, Lean In.  If you don’t know, she’s the COO of Facebook and basically Silicon Valley royalty.  Her book is a bit of a modern-day feminist manifesto.

I think Sheryl would like this story…  I know I do.

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?…