No It All

Both Nakesy and Jakey have been quite talkative lately.  Well, with Jake, lately is defined as forever.  Every day I continue to marvel as his vocabulary grows.  Conversations are always more lively as he throws in: camouflage, ginormous (apparently a real word as of the 2007 publishing of Merriam-Webster), “gust” of wind, sumbarine (yep), and ceremony.

Nate is also at that stage where he understands a lot more than we’re aware of and walks around “saying” things that sound like English.  And Spanish.  Tonight I noticed he says “abre” (open).  You have to be very careful not to say “spit” or “splash” unless you’re interested in getting wet.  He can get his shoes, comb his hair, brush his teeth, blow on hot food, eat with his fork, and clearly knows he’s not supposed to stand on the couch.  He bumps fists and then blows it up.  He knows his feet and several parts of his face.  And tonight was the very first time he said “JJ.”  Jacob and I were so proud.

But you really know he’s listening when you say, “What’s that smell— Nate, is that you?”  And he of course laughs and makes a run for it.

I’ve written many times about my kids’ clavos (that’s nails in Spanish… the steel kind).  Clipping Natesy’s nails is currently akin to amputation.  Haircuts fall into the same category.

Me: “Jakey, I think maybe we better cut your nails.”

Jacob: “No, Mama.  I need my sharp claws to climb trees and scratch bad guys.”

Me: “Oh, well then, never mind Freddy.”

Back when JJ was little I remember these bipolar swaths of time where for weeks, Dada was the unrivaled favorite.  There was an interminable era when I was expected to answer to Dada.  Then I’d unknowingly surge from behind and leave him in my dust as the most adored.

Let’s just say, Mama is currently the global superpower.  I’m ahead in the medal count.  I am the Michael Phelps of Mommies.  I probably need to stop watching Olympic gymnastics till 11:30pm…

Both of my boys are presently in a place where they must inhabit the exact same postage stamp sized piece of earth that I occupy.  If I’m standing at a counter, one must wedge oneself into the imperceptible sliver of space and divorce me from any possibly productive activity.  It’s like jujitsu just to get a fork near my face.  My lap is the origin of endless concealed conflicts— chubby feet discreetly pushing the other toward a precipice.  Jealous elbows, strategic knees, artful ploys to take up primo real estate.

I’m trying to basque in my assuredly short-lived popularity.  Savoring the mornings when Jacob has crawled into our bed, turns to me and whispers, “You’re my best friend, Mama.”  Reveling in Nathaniel’s little bottom-lipped kisses, the way he lays his head on my shoulder, and the new pleading “UpOrDown.”  (That always means “up,” despite the implied choice.)

As Heidi Klum puts it, “Een parendhood, vuhn day you ahre een and duh next, you ahre oudt.”  Yeah, she said that.  That’s a German accent by the way.

So this is one of those posts that teenage Jake will undoubtedly roll his eyes, cross his arms and moan, “Mooooom.”  At what age will I have to take this blog private?  Another problem for another day…

Last night I’m laying with Jakey in the bottom bunk, reading books, and he pulls up his Handy Manny pj shirt, shows me his little nipples and proclaims, “I can feed baby animals.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.  I can feed my baby zebras, my baby grasshoppers, and my baby bunnies.”

“They do say, ‘breast is best.'”  (I wish I’d said that.  I think I said something more like, “Wow, grasshoppers, huh?”)

I’ve been laughing about this all day.  I’m not really one for movie references, but it was very “Meet the Parents.”

Can’t you just picture these baby animals all milling around him at “lunchtime.”  I mean come on Teenage Jake… how can I not write this down?

My milkshake brings all the zebras to the yard and they’re like, it’s better than yours…

Have I mentioned Nate is the perfect sleeper?  We literally kiss him good night (remind me to write more on this later), zip him into his little sleep sack, hand him his nigh-nigh, he rolls over and lights out.  Meanwhile I hear Jakey sneaking down the hallway right now…  ‘scuse me.

OK, I’m back.  So, I’ve been remiss in documenting this potentially little known fact about our little Nake.  Perhaps I’m superstitious— don’t acknowledge it, don’t make eye contact… best not to boast and tempt that unpredictable and fickle thing called Nate.

So then why am I so tired?  Why are my eyes glazed, my thoughts muddled?  Every two years we lose our minds and decide to do it all again.  We’re just four days in and we’re already smitten:

Nothing like the Olympics to catapult you back to that state of “newborn exhaustion.”  Bloody NBC.

I’ve always felt like little girl clothes were the cutest thing in the world, second only to little girl shoes.   Little boy clothes are almost exclusively blue or brown or sometimes plaid… in blue and brown.

I’m always going into stores and am pulled by an invisible magnet into the world of mini car coats, pintuck pinafores, and leggings.  I rack my brain thinking about what little girls I might know so I can buy something.   Oh, I think.  National Ice Cream Day is coming-up, I better pick-up this little tunic ensemble.

Early on, when I thought Baby Cillo might be a little girl… before I knew in my heart-of-hearts that it was a little boy with his daddy’s relaxed disposition, I bought “the strawberry dress.”  “The strawberry dress” is in quotes because in some unlikely conversation with my friends, someone mentioned they had seen the cutest “strawberry dress” and my jaw fell open because I had seen the cutest “strawberry dress” and couldn’t come up with an indeterminate holiday or obscure baby to buy it for.  Of course they convinced me I should get it on the off chance Baby Cillo was Baby Cilla.

Too cute, right?

In any case, I’ve since changed my mind about little girl clothes being the cutest.  I don’t get ruffles and patch pockets.  No matter.  I have mini boxer briefs.

Just when we thought Nathaniel’s vocabulary had devolved into a single word, “agua,” it has reversed course and evolved substantially in less than two days.

Wednesday evening, his jazz hands sign language was accompanied by the actual words, “All done!”  Well, maybe it was “All da!”  But still, that is practically a phrase.  Then, on Thursday morning before we left for Dr. Antsy’s, Natesy blurted out the words “belly button!” clear as day.  And in the doctor’s office, he pointed to the drawer of the exam table where she keeps kid books and exclaimed, “Open it!”

After that string of progress, it seems his vocabulary has plateaued again: “Open it” is the new “Agua.”

On Thursday I took Natesy to Dr. Antsy’s for his 15-month well-baby check-up.  Yes, he’s 16 months and is currently a snot factory… I do my best.

So I’m filling out the questionnaire and it asks things like:
“Can your child walk?”  Check.
“Can your child run?”  Check.
“Does your child know some body parts?”  Hmmm.

“Natesy, where’s your head?”  His little chubby hand slaps the side of his head confidently.  Phew.  The question is clearly plural and I know he knows belly button… Check!

(I’m kind of behind from an electronic medical records perspective.  I’m not really alone… I’d say the entire human race is behind on that front.)

12 Month Baby Stats:
Weight: 23 lbs 13.3 oz: 60.95% (down from 76.30%)
Height: 2’6″: 49.71% (down from 59.91%)
Head Circumference: 46.8cm: 58.49% (up from 56.72%)

16 Month Baby Stats:
Weight: 25 lbs 14.1 oz: 80% (up from 60.95%)
Height: 2′ 8.25″, 64% (up from 49.71%)
Head Circumference: 48cm, 72.56% (up from 58.49%)

Come to think of it, Heineken has always been one of Granddad’s favorite beers.  And speaking of beer…

Last weekend we’re all at the dinner table and the big one says to me, “Mama, is Jacob big enough to have beer yet?”  It seems he thought posing this question in the third person may get him the answer he’s looking for…

The next night James gives him a nice big glug of his beer.  Jakey raises his face, brushing his cheek thoughtfully, “See Dad, beard.  Beard.”

This morning’s conversation in Mommy and Daddy’s bed, post sippy-cups:

Mama: “Natesy, sit down on your bottom.  We do not stand in bed.”

Jacob: “On your heinie, Nake!”

Mama: “Who taught you that word?”

Jacob: “Granddad.”

Mama: “I knew you were gonna say that.”