no walking or talking

My grandpa tells us not to teach our children to walk or to talk, because it just gets complicated after they learn those things. While I try to take his advice, I've had no luck with this particular piece. But I do recognize that he has a point.

My boy has been babbling sweet nothings behind me in the car for months now (possibly a year...). And I love it - a little background music to my life. But every once in a while I would think "Oh no! Before long there will start to be words, then I will have to listen and respond" and I would sigh, resigned that all in all, talking is a useful skill.

And now it's here.

"Knah-Knah!" "who's there?"

"Pane!" "Do you see a plane?"

"Tuck." "Yes, there's a truck."

"Buhssss." "Oh, I see the bus too."

"Choo-chooo!" "Yes, this is an overpass" (just like the one where the train is).

"Bah." "Yes, you and Babs can both have a Nutty Bar."

"Lub-lub!" "No, I don't have a drink for you. Sorry."


The redeeming side of these simple conversations, is that although I repeat what he says a lot, he's repeating what I say a lot, and adding new words every day.

knock, knock

My children love to tell jokes, even if they're not very good at it. They especially love knock, knock jokes. And they do it often enough (and tell the same jokes enough) that my not quite 2 year old gets in on the game.

Boy: "Nah, nah!" (he will repeat this line as often as necessary to get me to give the proper response)
me: "Who's there?"
Boy: (long pause) "Tow!" (rhymes with cow) (more pause) "Moooo!" then he laughs, because he's cracked himself up. He cracks me up too.

(This is how the joke actually goes:
Knock-knock
Who's there?
The interupting cow
The interu-
MOOOOO!
Teach it to your kids, you can enjoy it forever...)

medium mom

Babs hates it when we get mad at her (ironic, given that she is so good at making us mad). But, we've made a concerted effort over the last few months to not get mad at her, and deal with our flash points differently. Either we don't engage in the argument, or we do things differently so there are fewer opportunities to get stressed at each other. And it's working.

But a few weeks ago, it wasn't. We needed to be in the car so we could pick Kiddo up from school. And Babs wasn't doing her part. I finally yelled, or spoke sharply, or something that she needed to sit down this instant.

Vaguely cowering (finally now) in her seat, she said hopefully "Happy mommy?" because she wanted me to be nice again. I was still stressed, but trying to calm down. "Happy mommy is not available right now" I shot back.

"Medium mommy?" she countered. And then I had to laugh.


And thus "medium mommy" has entered the lexicon. I try to be happy mommy for their sakes and mine. But sometimes I'm too tired or frustrated to have her around. So then medium mommy comes for a while. It's a compromise we can all live with.

birthday present

A few days after her birthday, Babs asked me if she got anything from preschool for her birthday.

"Yeah, you got a 'happy birthday' pencil," I replied.

"You know I can't write!" she disgustedly replied.

the power of prayer

We try to teach our children to pray. Some days, when they are climbing all over us, and looking at each other the whole time it seems that no progress is being made. But sometimes I think we are.

Kiddo received a gift card for Christmas, but recently when we discussed using it we realized it was lost. She had taken it out of the box we put it in for safekeeping, and had packed it in one of her many bags for play one day. We prayed that we would find it, but we didn't. Many days later I was unpacking one of her bags so it could be used for something else, and there was the gift card. (Along with many, many other tiny things. That kid's like a magpie.) Kiddo exclaimed "We prayed to find it, and we did!" I was grateful that she immediately made that connection.

Babs is an odd mix of do-it-myself and you-do-it-for-me. She won't pray on her own in the evening; she expects one of her parents to feed her the lines. But, if we pray for the wrong thing, she won't say it. As we were recovering from the never-ending cold my husband prompted her, "Thank you that I'm healthy," because she was, and was about the only one right then. But, she had recently coughed, so that was not her perspective, so she changed it to "bless me that I will feel better because I'm still sick."

The Boy seems to have a special relationship with prayer. Even as a baby his behavior would often change in result of his parents fervent prayers, in a faster and different way than with the girls. (Of course, that could be because the parents are getting better at praying, but I think that's only a small part of it.) But he also loves to pray. He has folded his arms for a long time. And now he talks along with whoever is speaking. It's not uncommon for him to include at first truck noises, and now the word "truK" or "pane!" (plane). The other day as he accompanied a blessing on the food he specifically mentioned a plane. And right after one flew over our house, which he saw.

I firmly believe that was an answered prayer for my little boy. And I pointed it out as such to my family. Because surely Heavenly Father cares about my 20 month old's sincere prayer just as much as my prayers, possibly more.

running to school

I let the girls play a little too long today, and by the time we got in the car, school started in five minutes. Luckily, we only live one minute away. But another minute to walk from the place we park to the school. I encouraged Kiddo to go quickly, and I watched to make sure she got in on time.

As she ran the last distance to the door (the difference in people near the door in spring versus freezing cold winter is quite stark) I thought: She looks so little. She still is pretty small. But she's growing up a lot too. And is anxious to be grown up, but also anxious to stay little too.

I believe the thoughts in my head mirror some angst she may be feeling herself right now, about how grown up she really is... or isn't.

about a month ago...

 After getting the boy out of his crib I went to the kitchen to finish up some dishes. It was so quiet, I finally wondered where he was.

The close up is so you understand both why he's lying on top of her, and why she's letting him.