wild*life

Mother Nature makes sure that the sound of your own kids’ little voices is just the cutest thing you have ever heard.  Really.  On occasion, I’ll admit I’ve heard a little kid talking at a restaurant table nearby and thought to myself, “Oh my gosh.  That voice is like a cartoon adult pretending to be a kid.  Is that for real?”  But of course, that voice is not meant for me.  I’m sure it’s music to his mother’s ears.  That’s just the way it is.

And one of my most favorite, heartwarming voices… ever?

Jakey, doing his little self-important marching across the livingroom on his way out to school in the morning, “Bah-bye Mama.  I luyouMama!”

There is nothing sweeter.

So unfortunately, we’re still battling the carnal desire to bite.  It’s very infrequent, and mostly clothes, but still considered overly menacing for the civilized world.  We found out the cartoon movie Madagascar has a clear and apt message, “Don’t bite your friends.”  Just the message we’re trying to send!  The only problem?  Its star, Alex, is a lion.  And so Jakey is clearly torn between his desire to be a lion and his desire to have “good manners.”

After school I ask Jakey with bated breath, “Did you have good manners at school today?”  And he looks at me with his chin up, squints his little eyes, gets a big smile on his face and says in a high sing-songy voice, “Noooo biting!”  Clearly he can see right through our euphemisms.

We’ve also stumbled blindly right into the jungle of tall tales.  Just for the CPS record, Jacob says things that are completely untrue, and I have no idea why.  I pray this is normal for two-year olds?  I have asked him about little owies on his arm or scrapes on his shins and he’ll say, “Mama cut me.” 
“What?!  Mama would never cut you.”
Change of tune, “Daddy, hit me.”
“!?”
This is seriously troubling.  Hopefully this blog will not have to be used as evidence for the defense in a court of law.

Apparently Jacob poured his milk out at school today, just to look at it.  When asked about this incident, Jake now takes the Clintonesque strategy of complete denial.  In other cases, he turns the story around and continues to repeat, “Roxanna bite me.”  Though one day we did remove his shirt and found a huge bite mark on the back of his delicious, meaty little shoulder, courtesy of Justin.  Perhaps he is just caught-up in a preschool culture of mastication?

So we’ve been having talks about telling the truth and lying.  I’ve been trying to get creative in describing what is truthful and what is not.  Tonight it went something like this:

“Jakey, telling the truth is very important.  We do not say things that are not true.”
“What Mama?  Tooth?”
“No, truth.  The TRUTH, not tooth.  If I say, ‘Jacob is in the bathtub right now,’ that is telling the truth.  But if I say, ‘Jacob is in the kitchen,’ that is lying.  You’re not in the kitchen, right?”
“Yi-yon?  Alex the yi-yon?”
“No, lying.  LIE-ING, not lion.”

We don’t seem to be getting through to him.  Fall back to something Jake definitely understands?
“If you bite, no Handy Manny.”
Mr. Lion Tooth nods:  Message received.

It’s so hard to keep up with the pace of life… especially when “phases” can last a few days to a few short weeks.  A few little sayings that I know won’t be around forever:

• “Whaeezat?” and “Whoeezat”  (What is that? and Who is that?)
• “I deeyit!”  (I did it!)
• “Lay down nex to me, Mama.  Nex to me.”
• “I’know.”  (I don’t know.)
• “Jacob right back”… with a little pointer finger up in the air as in “just a moment”  (Jacob will be right back.)
• Right there!
• Look at that!

Last week I was changing Nate’s clothes and absentmindedly singing as his little legs were going buck wild.  “1, 2 skip to my lou.  1, 2 skip to my lou.  1, 2 skip to my lou… skip to my lou my darlin’.”  Okay, I’ve just looked-up the words to this song and apparently I have gotten almost none of them right.

Jakey comes barreling into the room, “No Baby Nake a dolly, Mama.  Baby Nake no a dolly.”

“What?  A dolly?  Oh, I said a darlin’.  Yeah, clearly Baby Nake is not a dolly.”  Good catch Jakey.

Later on that night Jacob decided something about his dinner was seriously gag and cough-inducing.  The theatrics were Oscar-worthy, complete with eye rolling and precarious swaying.  “Look Drama Queen, that’s enough.”

“I no a Drama Queen.  No.  I’m Jacob!”

Baby Nate is not a dolly, but Jakey is definitely a Drama Queen.

I never thought anyone would say this, but here goes: I love living in an airport flight path.

In the beginning, a long time ago, there were two kinds of airplanes: Mama airplanes and Baby airplanes.  Of course this made Mama feel special given the world revolves around Daddy.  But of course that was short-lived and now there are mostly Daddy airplanes and Baby airplanes.  You might think this method of categorization has to do with the size of the aircraft.  I assure you, it does not.

Anyway, you might also think that hearing the faint sound of airplanes while you lay “in the big bed” wouldn’t be idyllic.  You might think the ability to see little airplanes flying above from the comfort of your kitchen table would not be a selling feature.  Perhaps the fact that you can see huge airplanes as they land while you’re sitting at stoplights around town is something you wouldn’t consider when searching for a new home.  I’d say, if you have little kids, you should reconsider.

Unfounded meltdown about the dangers of fishing poles in the big bed?:

“Hey Jakey, what’s that sound?!”

“Huh?”

All parent-child discord instantly forgotten.  Airplanes: the ultimate distraction.

On July 4th Jakey got drunk on excitement and did what uninhibited, inebriated youth do in such situations… he got a tattoo.

He came to me with this grand plan for a double shark tattoo with bubbles.  A purple shark and a green shark swimming menacingly in a circle.  Given this was his first real experience with body art, he was easily talked into the top of his forearm for this highly symbolic and personally meaningful design.

As soon as he got it, like many, there was an almost immediate sense of regret.  His visions of grandeur, of flashing his shark tatt to gain respect on the playground, or to scare kids off his favorite playyard dinosaur, were immediately forgotten.  Clearly this wasn’t a sticker.  “Off Mama!  Get it off!”

So I accepted the big bucks as I went from San Jose artist to Los Gatos dermatologist specializing in laser tattoo removal.  Or rather, washcloth tattoo removal.

And that is the story of Jacob’s first foray into body art.  I hope he’s learned his lesson… the easy way.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to institute the nigh-nigh. 

People with babies that don’t have a plastic plug in their mouth always say the same thing, “My baby just won’t take it” they shrug.  “Just won’t take a pacifier.”

Honestly, I thought I was going to be one of those parents.  Whereas Jake came back from the hospital nursery, less than 24 hours old, expertly sucking on a little white Nuk… Nate did not.  As Jakey is always saying, “Baby Nake ‘pit it out.  ‘Pit out his nigh-nigh.”

But now I know all those parents are really just quitters.  Plain and simple.  They wuss out after the baby spits the pacifier onto the floor 300 times and just give up.  There’s no such slacking in this household, Soldier!  What?  He’s four months old and still won’t take it?  Try harder!  And give me twenty.

Now, it’s hard to believe that after the suspenseful drama of Operation: Bye Bye Nigh-Nigh, we would actually aspire to implement Operation: Hi Hi Nigh-Nigh, but it is absolutely true.

At first I was on the fence.  Why introduce yet another baby prop?  Something to forget, fall on the ground, grope around for in the middle of the night with your eyes shut…

But then, just after the week o’ train shame, I saw an opportunity and I seized it.  There was just something about the way Nathaniel was sucking on his lower lip that made me think, “This is my chance.  It’s now or never.”  I leapt into the fray, guns a blazing.  And he took it.  He kind of loved it.  I put it in his mouth and his little eyes instantaneously closed and contented baby snores followed.  Hi Hi Nigh-Nigh.

We’ve had only A+ train rides ever since.  So far?  Totally worth it.

And as always, should you or any of your IM Force be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions.  This message will self-destruct in the event that the Operation is overly successful and Nate won’t give it up till he’s sixteen.  Then we’ll formulate an elaborate cover-up story and blame it on Grandma…

On Friday, James and I took Nate to see Dr. Nancy for his 4-month appointment.  Just like Jakey, people like to compare Nathaniel to a puppy with really big paws.  For the baby record, his stats were:

Weight: 17 lbs 5.8 oz: 87.41% (down from 89.92%)
Height: 26.5″: 91.21% (up from 64.30%)
Head Circumference: 42.5cm: 52.29% (up from 46.81%)

Apparently Jake weighed a similar amount, but didn’t have quite the height to hide the heft.  I think Natesy is just trying to catch-up as quickly as possible so he can block the fishing pole, wooden tools and other objects being forced upon him.

First there was the hammer (T), then the shoe (L).  This week during bathtime Jake held up the U, “Look!  Horseshoe, Mama.”

A bit later he’s holding the O up to his eye.  “Jakey, do you have an “O” on your eye?”

“No.  Eye patch, Mama.”

“I see.  Are you a pirate?”

“No.  I’m Jacob!”

Ah, my mistake…

After Jake’s Saturday with Geoff and Angela, we got the following e-mail:

I forgot to mention that the best part of the short lived goose hunt was Jakey embarrassing his Auntie An-la-la by pointing and yelling at the top of his lungs to the cute little white house across the street having a weekend yard sale…

“That house is soo MESSY!  It’s MEESSY!  SOOO MESSSYY!  Look!!!  It’s a MESS!!!”

Like a record scratch, Jakey’s message was loud and clear….only thing to stop his ranting and raving… back on the the scooter!!!

 -A