A Little Perspective

Jack is so stinkin' cute. The way he talks is just so funny and unique! He's got far more imagination and vocabulary than I feel any 2 year old should have! He cracks us up with something he says every single day.

Dozens of times a day, I hear Ben say something like "Oh mom, I love it when Jack says..." or "Isn't it funny how Jack always makes that same silly face every time he says...?" or "Did you hear how he said...?"

He has regular silly faces, he has way too much attitude, he can sing songs, and he charms the socks off everyone around him even when he is being a naughty little stinker.

Right now, he is in a phase where he likes to call his favorite gals "princesses." For a while, he thought "princess" was the same word as "girl" and used it accordingly, but now he saves the title for special times. Like yesterday. We were sitting around the living room, eating some licorice when he climbed up on me and said, "Mom, you're a princess!" Then he paused, looked at his licorice, and said, "But THIS is really a princess!"

So I got upstaged by a piece of licorice... Everyone needs a little perspective sometimes I guess.

Pure Awesomeness

Matt tells me that I do too much for our boys; things such as helping them dress, tying their shoes, pouring their cereal, brushing their teethe. I do realize the older two can do most of things without me, but I am usually trying to get out the door in some sort of time limit and I want their teethe actually clean so...

But I do try to let them do more things for themselves. I try to plan a few extra minutes into getting ready to allow for me to have more patience in this area.

It isn't just about being more patient with them learning though, it is having the ability to laugh at the results sometimes. I let Ben pick out and put on his own clothes this morning, and when he came downstairs, he looked great! I was so proud of him and he did it so quickly! It wasn't until after school, when he took his shoes off, that I noticed his pure awesomeness:

Like I said, pure awesomeness...

I'm Stuck!

Not one to patiently wait until my hands are free to help him with anything, Jack often finds himself frustrated in his attempts to take care of himself. Just this morning, the simple act of taking off his jacket was comical enough to me that, rather than help him once my hands were free, I picked up my camera:

Good job, buddy!

Painless Attacks

I know my blogs have all been about Jack lately, but he is just at that often trying, but so hilarious stage right now! Here's another dose of Jack:

Jack loves weapons: guns, swords, axes (yes, we have a toy axe... from a pirate costume I think??), sticks... he's always shooting and whacking things, including his mom. For about half a second, I considered not giving my kids toy weapons (I had to at least pretend I thought they were inappropriate) but in the absence of real toys, they all fashion their own out of sticks, tinker toys, legos, shoes, blankets... you name it - it can and will be made into some sort of weapon.

So it is no surprise that with two older brothers who are quite skilled in battle, that Jack has learned early how to defend himself.

What is different about Jack though is that because he is as young as he is, I don't think he quite gets what a weapon is actually for! He makes the appropriate motions and sound effects, but his words just don't quite match: "Pow! I shoot you mom!" When I feign injury, he quickly says, "Don't worry mom! It not gonna hurt!" He stabs me with a stick or whacks me in the behind and I genuinely am hurt and he assures me, "I not gonna hurt you!" He pretended to throw some sort of exploding weapon at me from the back seat today, and I said, "Ow!" His response: "No, mom! It not hurt you! It not gonna hurt!"

I think he doesn't quite get it. At least he doesn't actually want to hurt me. I have to say, I never hear him say that to his brothers. Perhaps he doesn't mind hurting them occasionally...

Dad!!!

I am doing things a bit opposite with Jack than I did with my older boys. Both my older two were sleeping in "big boy beds" before they were potty trained. As I don't need the crib for a new baby and I am not moving at the moment, I am in no hurry to move Jack out of the confines of his crib. So although he is potty trained, he is not able to get himself up in the morning to take care of business.

What does he do about this?

Well, since I was gone all weekend, Jack became quite attached to and used to his dad, so when he wakes up and needs to do his duty, he immediately starts yelling, "Dad!! Dad!! I need you! Come through my door! Open it! I'm ready to get up! Get me out of bed! Dad!! I need to poop! Dad!! Poop!" For those Will Ferrell fans out there, picture him yelling "Mom! Meatloaf!" and you will get the idea.

I love that he calls for dad now. It's too cute. I also love that he no longer wants to poop in his pants. However, I don't always love to rush into his room immediately after he wakes up at 6am. I miss the days when he would wake up, poop in his diaper, not care, and just sing and play and talk leisurely in his bed.

So what does he do now that mom is back on duty and dad isn't rushing in first thing in the morning? Well, he doesn't want to poop in his diaper, so this morning, after calling for dad and telling him he had to poop and no one showed up, he took his diaper off and pooped in his crib!

I heard that all on the monitor as well. "Dad! I need to poop! Dad! I'm pooping! Dad! I'm making a mess mess mess! Help, Dad!"

I really have no one to blame but myself. I am the one who keeps him trapped in his cage and I am the one who ignored his pleas for help. It is only fair that I am the one who had to wash him, his clothes, his sheet, his blankets, his giant stuffed dog, and his bibi.

As I was cleaning Jack up, he looked at me accusingly and said, "Mom, I needed dad! I pooped!" Glad Jack at least is blaming someone else...

Bad to Worse

I am sick. I admit it. I hardly ever get sick, but now I am and I have been miserable. Part of what has made it so bad is that I was the last to get sick after everyone else was sick. So after dealing with sickness in my kids all week, I now have no energy left to fight!

But such is life and I'm a mom and life goes on. I can't stay in bed or take a nap or curl up under a blanket on the couch like my kids can and should when they are sick. I just medicate and keep going (albeit with just a tad of grumpiness thrown in there...)

After being stuck in the house all week last week with sick kids, I just had to get away after dropping the boys off at school, even though I was feeling like death. So where did I go? The gym. I can see now that perhaps was not the best place to go, but it seemed logical at the time.

Knowing cardio was out of the question unless I wanted my throat to close up and suffocate me (which I did not), I chose squats - a lot of squats.

When I finished the number I set out to do, I put the bar back on the rack and just laid down flat on my back for a good ten minutes, willing my throat to open back up so I could at least breath, let alone cough up the phlegm blocking the way.

Now, today, on top of the aches and pains of being sick, my body is aching all over! It had been a whole week since I visited the gym prior to that last one, so I may have overdone it a bit. I can hardly move. I'd kick myself if I could lift my leg...

Exactly!

Jack is well-loved on the playground. This I have stated before. The moms love him and he's got a whole group of girls who follow him around, doing whatever he demands. If he wants them to chase him, they chase him. If he wants to walk WAY over to the rainbow on the wall, they dutifully walk over there with him. If he wants to make bark hamburgers and ice cream, they pretend to eat it with him.

Of course, sometimes, he has had enough of the girls and just wants something a little more real - like warmer hands, food not made of dirt or bark, a drink of water, a kiss after he's fallen down, or, in yesterday's case, a can of seltzer water.

My friend was just carrying this half-full can of fizzy water around, torturing poor Jack with it. As I was talking to her for some time, he had plenty of time to notice it, want it, and repeatedly ask for it. As it wasn't mine to give him, I told him I'd find him some water elsewhere, but she stepped in and offered the rest of the can to him. I let him have it, fully expecting him to dislike the bitter fizziness.

His reaction to it was priceless: He took a tentative sip, smacked his lips, sighed, and said, "Ahh... Exactly!"

He then wiggled to get down and carried the can around the area, taking tiny sips and savoring each one in a similar manner. Not quite ready to be done running around, he did keep leaving it with me with the instructions "Keep it safe, mommy! Don't drink it!" and would come running back to me later in a panic crying, "Where's my drink?!"

There are clearly some very simple ways into my youngest child's heart.