wild*life

We had a rough night last night.  For some reason Jake woke-up begging for agua and then screamed and cried for twenty minutes.  “I want to go in the big bed, Mamaaaaaa.  I want big aguaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…”

This morning Jakey was hanging out as I was getting ready for work.  “Jacob, what happened last night?”

“I so tired Mama.  Jacob had a long day,” he nodded knowingly.

On Saturday, Jakey went to Uncle Geoff and Auntie Angela’s while the rest of us went car shopping.

Eighty-some degrees and Nate was all smiles and patience and oohs and aahs when it came to test driving SUVs for three hours.  He didn’t grumble or grimace once.  Such a boy!  I totally whined more than he did.

And Jake had the best time going on the scooter with Geoff, eating donuts, feeding Slow-Slow and chasing squirrels.  We picked him up and I told him we were headed back to Jacob’s house for naptime.

In the backseat he screamed defiantly, “No!  Nap!  Time!  Mama!”…

5… 4… 3… 2… 1.  Lights out.  And he slept for three and a half hours.

Today is Natesy’s 4-month birthday!

I can hardly believe it has already been four months since we were blessed with the sweetest little boy with the biggest grin.  It’s going too fast.

Today I decided everyone on the train is super jealous that I can just bury my face in the sweet neck of a sleeping baby and give his perfect chubby cheeks hundreds of kisses while I’m reading my Kindle.  I close my eyes and try to impress in my memory the smell of Baby Nake.  I can’t really describe it, but it’s irresistible.  If I could bottle it, I bet I’d make millions.

I’m scared.
Apparently there’s a lion in my house…
Well, there’s a yi-yon in my house…
And only Jacob can see it.

Now I wouldn’t be that alarmed except that I recently found out someone we know has a real bobcat living in their house.  Houseguests are afraid to go to the bathroom at night.  I’m not making this up.

I asked JJ if our yi-yon is a big yi-yon.  Fortunately, he assures me it’s a baby.  And this baby yi-yon is always trying to get Jake’s toys.  I am constantly recruited to guard his fishing pole, his flashlight, his bicycle, “No yi-yon get it.”

Now Jacob is also pretty well-known for his own lion dramatics.  My friend Sarah told me how much she enjoys hide-and-seek with her little girl and how she’s scared she’ll outgrow it.  I can confidently report that at 2 years 4 months, hide-and-seek is still going strong… as evidenced by the yi-yon that is always hiding in my closet and then jumping out to ROOOOAAAAAR! at me.

Two yi-yons.
One walk-in closet.
I’m just worried this house might not be big enough for the both of ’em.

Twice a month on Tuesdays
at eight a.m.
My cleaning angel comes
to save me from mayhem

There’s crusty spaghetti
stuck to the table
Is it just me…
or does it smell like a stable?

Muddy little shoes
piled-up by the door
Eco-friendly toys
litter the floor

If we had a dog
I’m sure the linoleum would be cleaner
But who has time
to care for yet another creature?

I come home at night
and breathe a contented sigh
My house is sparkly and serene
at least for one night

The stove is spotless
the bath mats are bright
Even the ceiling fixtures are dusted
the world is right

Angelica, our savior
you’re worth every cent
You always raise my spirits
even when I’m spent

If I wasn’t married
and if you washed clothes
I think it’s quite possible
that I would propose

Three little boys
one angel of clean
Five more days till she’s back
at least there’s caffeine

As previously mentioned, Baby Nate does a lot of bubble blowing.  He’s like a little motorboat.

I said he does a lot of motorboating and then someone told me what that means (the least offensive of the offensive slang definitions).  That’s not exactly what I meant…

There’s something about Jacob that sometimes when you’re seriously scolding him, it doesn’t seem to phase him.  At other times, you barely say anything and he bursts into tears.  I think he gets it from his Daddy. 

Usually he comes stumbling toward me from another room, sniffling and sobbing incoherent words.

“What happened Jakey?”

“Daddy no’ed me.”

“Daddy said no?”

“Yeah.”

James likes to call him our little glass menagerie.  A chip off the ol’ crystal figurine.

I recently learned that Obama’s secret service code name is Renegade.  Apparently Reagan was Rawhide and W. was known as Trailblazer.

Baby Nate is currently under heightened surveillance and therefore, clearly needs a code name.  I had some fun using the Internet code name generator (http://www.channelone.com/fun/swf_code_name/).  But I’m going to have to nix Tumbler and Hotshot.  Cannonball is a serious contender.  As is Fireplug.  Or Thunder.  But at the end of the day, Nathaniel’s new secret service code name is: Rollie Pollie.

Why is Natesy under heightened surveillance?  Honestly, there’s no telling what he’ll do.  And he’s on the run.  Well, the roll.  He can no longer be trusted to stay put– even under house arrest.  Our days of leaving him in one place and finding him in the same spot moments later are almost over.  He’s on the living room floor and then you come back and he’s done a 180… as would be expected of a surveillance target.

On Saturday, June 18th, he propelled his rollie pollie little self almost all the way over onto his tummy.  The only problem was one stubborn elbow.  Then on Monday night, June 20th, while I was in San Diego on a secret mission, I’m told he did it again… a perfect show for Nonna.  Her chosen code name.

We’ve recruited Jacob into the fold.  Observation is a clear strength of his.  He can now be seen wearing sunglasses and speaking into his collar, “Rollie Pollie is on the move.”

When I was living in Spain I was highly atuned to language– both English and Spanish.  I was always noticing phrases, sayings, colloquialisms.  And now that we have a walking, talking 2 love, my language radar is up again.  All of a sudden I notice the inaccuracies of words like babysitter… and the inopportune message it might send to both parties.  You’re a big boy, not a baby!  And I’m not paying $10 an hour for you to “sit.”

You start to wonder why you drive screws with a screw driver, but we don’t have a naildriver.  Flashlight, cupcake, pigsty, unicorn.  James pointed out that he’s always wondered why it isn’t “unihorn”… why didn’t I think of that?

Two morning ago, I’m warming-up milk for Jake at 5-something am with one eye open.  He’s standing in the doorway and he asks, “Mama, where’s Jacob’s dumbkicks?”

“Dumbkicks?  I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Dumbkicks.  Like this.”  And then he takes his little fingers and drums them on the doorjamb to show me what he’s talking about…  Ah.  Drumsticks.

A few minutes later, “Where’s phonesticks?  Where’s Jacob’s phonesticks at?”

“Phonesticks?”  It’s early.  I can’t really imagine what phonesticks might be.  I take my hot tea and sit on the couch with my eyes shut.

Jakey holds up his xylophone and his block with a mini xlyophone inside.

“Look Mama, two of ’em.  Two xlyophones.  Phonesticks!”  And he begins a 5am xlyophone wake-up ballad with his “phonesticks.”

Tonight I put Jake to bed with his usual critters: Harry Elefante, Monkey Mouse and Baby Cillo… plus firefighter and firelady, a miniature dinosaur, his fireman hat and an old iPhone.  We draw the line at his fishing pole.  He’s allowed to gaze at it as it rests on the ottoman near his crib.  Kristen said she read something about kids hoarding at this age.  I’m going to take her word for it.