A Wintertime Past

It's no longer winter. Hooray! But my mother reminded me the other day that my picture-posting friend may become her new favorite daughter, because otherwise she never gets to see pictures of her grandchildren. Which reminded me that I've had this post sitting in my drafts for about five months.

This winter we learned the old parenting truth: half of parenting is gazing at your children thinking, "The most beautiful creatures in the entire world live in my house. How did I get so lucky?" and the other half of parenting is sputtering, "why why WHY would you think that was a good idea?"

This winter was nice because there have been lots of playing together (also less nice because lots of fighting opportunities). Tooooons of dress-up. Usually along the lines of "people who ride in loud and cool vehicles":

Ellie....or Justin Bieber?? The world may never know.

But even more often as Mommy and Daddy:

The construction worker goggles were deemed too difficult/painful...

So they were generously offered to an unsuspecting victim:

I won't bore you with the details like how deeply the elastic strap cut into my brain.

Even when they're not dressed up, these two can usually be found side-by-side, whether that's eating....

...or as astronauts flying in rocket ships... 

K: "Is today Friday?"

Me: "No, today is Saturday."

K: "Oh goody! I love Saturday! It means tomorrow we can go to outer space!"

...or the Hundred Acre Wood...

....or in boats (not pictured: Josh collapsed from exhaustion from succumbing to the endless chorus of "push me, Daddy!")

They delight me. Separately, but most of all together.

Ellie has graced us with her presence for a year and a half now. She insists that she only needs one nap a day, but by mid-morning most days gets a little glassy-eyed:

The only thing that keeps her awake is anticipation of her favorite thing: lunch. But once lunch is finished, she can't wait a second longer:

ok yes, it's lunch and she's in her PJs. It was winter, y'all. PJs are a legit outfit.

 Her favorite foods are beans and rice and yogurt and meat and fruit and potatoes and sandwiches and soup and pasta and squash and broccoli and... well, okay. Pretty much all the foods. Except, oddly enough, hot dogs and toast.

She's constantly trying out new words, to Brother's delight. And gee, she has a lot to say. A lot. She is well-acquainted with all kinds of trucks, but also loves diapering, feeding, kissing, and tucking in her babies.

Kekoa continues to be my confirmed introvert.
K: "Where are we going now, Mommy?"
Me: "We're going home."
K: "We're going home? OH BOY!"

He's an excellent big brother, but he's still human: "I really love my sister. But it's really hard to share. I just want to have it ALL."

Uncle Aaron: "See you later, buddy! Do me a favor and take care of your little sister, okay?"
Kekoa: "Hmmmm. I'll see what I can do."

Now that it's spring, the paints and dress-up clothes and train tracks are getting a little break, in favor of sidewalk chalk and ladybugs. Maybe by October I'll post pictures of the spring. Or maybe not.

P.S. Don't try to count how many of the pictures involve my children in their pajamas. Just don't.

It snowed

Rather, we got an entire winter's worth of snow in the space of 36 hours.

A lovely gift left by the snowplow after we had dug out Sven. 

Kekoa went forth valiantly with his shovel, and experienced all the magical-ness of childhood, before shoveling and going to work become a concern.

He helped us shovel, digging around the sides of the car where the big shovel couldn't reach. And he was light enough that he acted as his own snowshoes: here he is standing on top of three feet of snow, but he didn't sink down. He felt like the king of the world.

He pretended the snow was sugar, and baked all sorts of delights with it.

He was also a big fan of sled rides. He had a great time in general, except for when he had to go inside, at which point he would start wailing, "I'm FROZEN, I'm FROZEN!"

Ellie, on the other hand.

Yeah, not so much. 

That's how she spent most of the time while Kekoa was playing and we were shoveling. Between all the growling and hibernating, she made a pretty passable imitation of a bear. Apparently winter is not her thing.



We also had lots of inside time, where we drank "special tea," played lots of "find-the-bear-hibernating-in-the-cave," and watched The Snowman at least four times in two days. They were enchanted, and Kekoa walks around continually singing, "I'm walking in the air."

Selfie with the bear!

Ellie also developed the distressing habit of saying "Cheese" when her picture is taken. It's not that she says "cheese"....it's the face she makes every time.

It's going to be a couple of years before I get a good picture of her again. Ah well. I can always fall back on the pictures of her sleeping,

Just Like Daddy

Daddy's birthday is this week, so this post is in honor of what he means in our house... (okay really it's an excuse to dump pictures and quotations, but just humor me, ok?)

Kekoa wants to be just like Daddy. He knows that his name is the same as Daddy's, even if he goes by a different nickname, and he doesn't want to miss out on either.  It's very confusing when he goes around introducing himself: "Hi, I'm Kekoa. Hi, I'm Josh."

Josh was pumping gas the other day and when he got back in the car, Kekoa piped up: "You worked wery wery hard, Daddy. I'm so proud of you."

Josh loves to bake, and Kekoa has picked up on that. I keep a designated drawer empty to be the "oven," and I've eaten many a loaf of pretend banana bread.

They love to bake together. One day, we were serving banana bread to some of our friends.
"I made that," Kekoa said proudly to our guest.
"Oooh, what did you put in it?"
"Baking powder...and salt...and sugar....and baking powder...and lots and lots of salt...and soda. And cinnamon!"
"Wow, that's a lot of baking powder and salt."
"Yep. I loooooove baking powder!"

Our guest was gracious enough to try it anyway. :)

Josh also enjoys miniatures. After a couple years of Kekoa begging to try painting, we got the idea to give him some cheap army men and Daddy's old paints. He feels that his work is *extremely* important. Furrowed brow important, in fact.

Anything Josh says is bound to be repeated. If I tickle Kekoa, he says, "All right all right, you got me, you got me."  If I drop anything or might be hurt, "Are you okay, my love?" And, "Oh yes, indeed. You are correct."

One day Josh and Kekoa were baking scones and Ellie tried to pull down the parchment paper lining the baking sheet. Kekoa squatted down to her eye level and said very seriously in a tone he knows all too well, "Look at me. LOOK at me. We do NOT touch the paper."

Meanwhile, while Josh has Kekoa hanging on to his every word, Ellie has Daddy wrapped around her finger. How do I know? Well, one hint is that when I upload pictures to the computer, there are all kinds of random shots I don't remember taking:

Not pictured: that very same slimy chewed-up apple in its secret hiding place, aka my dresser drawer.

While Kekoa *wants* to be like Josh, Ellie *is* like Josh. While Ellie naps, introverted Kekoa and I enjoy the quiet. But if Ellie wakes up first, she spends the entirety of her time banging on the door trying to wake brother up to play.

Kekoa, after some banging woke him up: "I had a good nap. I woke up and I said, 'Who's that at the door?' and I said, 'I don't know, who IS that?' And then I said, 'Maybe it's Mommy. But maybe it's Ellie.' And now I'm saying, 'Oh yeah, it WAS Ellie'."

And then there's the attitude toward mess. MY child walked into the playroom the other day, burst into tears, and walked straight back out. "I can't play in here! It's too messy!" He's also the one who came to me, quite proud, and said, "Mommy, I made a huge mess!" I came out expecting to find flour all over or something, but then I had to take a picture of the "huge mess":

But don't worry, don't hate me yet. At that very moment, Josh's child was making herself comfortable:

The blur in the middle is OCD Man, racing in to save the day

So I suppose the moral of the story is if you marry someone with a dissimilar personality...be prepared to raise their little mini-mes. 

Happy birthday, Josh. Thanks for balancing our kids out (but oh hey, can you take the extrovert out for a while? K and I need some alone time).

1 + 3 = crazy

We managed to pack a lot of life in the last couple months. Kekoa turned 3, Ellie turned 1, I turned an unspoken number (but let's just say my frontal lobe is beyond fully matured and is now into the degeneration side of things...), we packed, we painted, we moved, we unpacked, we survived. We had visits from three of the four grandparents (we miss you, Papa!).

In any case. It's been stressful and glorious and exhausting. We've been sore and bewildered and exhilarated. And darn it, now I don't have an excuse to keep putting off those dentist visits.

But for the highlights. Kekoa's birthday was a small affair, being only four days before we were to close on our new home and on the tail end of a stomach bug. But Kekoa's reactions to gifts are immensely gratifying. He's usually so thrilled to have a present that he's practically fawning all over your feet before he even opens it. But then once he does open it: "WHOA, check it out! CHECK IT OUT! I LOVE [insert gift here]!"

He was quite pleased this particular birthday because he made a killing in trucks. He also recently graduated to solo teeth brushing, and finds me at all hours of the day asking if he can brush. The doctor was quite pleased with him because he rocketed from the 0.17 growth percentile into the 2nd percentile this year. That's our big bruiser for you!

Why yes, these pjs HAVE fit him 3 summers in a row.

Ellie didn't even get a cake for her birthday. "What? No smash cake?" My mom asked. But with this girl, *every* day is a mess worthy of a smash cake.

Daddy had mercy and baked some banana bread

Only Ellie can pork down a whole avocado, fifteen grape tomatoes, and half a chicken thigh, then cry when we run out food as if she hasn't eaten in weeks; Everyone talks about the teenage boys, but honestly, I'm not sure we're going to survive our toddler girl.

She really is a delightful little human, though a bit dramatic. Not given her way, she will flop facedown on the floor and sob helplessly as if the world is coming to an end. She's an expert beggar and has been known to swindle whole bananas from soft-hearted Nanas.

Somehow I ended up with a girly girl, because she coos in delight when she sees her pretty dresses and hairbows and gasps excitedly when we pass dolls in the store. She loves anything soft and cuddly, and brother obliges by throwing an entire zoo of stuffed animals into her bed every night.

Ellie scored PURPLE dresses for her birthday.

"Da-da" is her favorite person/word, but she's also figured out that "I la la" ("I love you") is an excellent method of attention-getting - which happens to be an art she excels in, snuggling comfortably into your shoulder before you put her down for an unwanted nap.

After being a lifelong vehement proponent of the toilet paper going over, I've converted to an under (temporarily, I'm sure!) because she loves to unroll it, and when it's over it unrolls straight into the toilet (yes, I know - keep the bathroom door closed. uh-huh. you tell the 3-year-old that).

She and "buh-der" continue to delight me with their friendship, strewn with fights and make-up kisses. They both love to wrestle (usually Ellie's instigation), and looking at a picture of Ellie the other day Kekoa proclaimed, "Oh, sooo beautiful!" He takes good care of his "sweet baby," and she in turns humors him by giggling wildly when he gives her zerbets.  The other day Kekoa was eating a snack when Ellie woke up from her nap, and she went straight for the mooching. "Great job saying 'more,' Ellie. You asked so nicely. Yes, you may have a blueberry!"

Kekoa: "Josiah lives in Hi-de-ho!" [Idaho]
Me: "Yes, and where do Mimi and Pops live?"
Kekoa: "Caluhfornee-uh!"
Me: "What about Nana and Papa?"
Kekoa: "Ha'aye'e!"
Me: "And where does Uncle Steve live?"
Kekoa: "Uncle Steve lives in the army!"

Kekoa: "What time is it?"
Me: "I don't know, what does the clock say?"
Kekoa: "The clock says tick-tock!"

Me: "Can you tell Nana what to do if you get lost?"
Kekoa: "But I don't want to tell Nana to get lost!"

Me: "Do you want to hold my hand?"
Kekoa: "No thank you. I'm too big now."   :( :( :(

Ten Months

You guys. Ellie hit a HUGE milestone this month. I mean, huge. Been waiting for it since the day she was born. Well, since the day we found out she was a girl, really.

BOOM.

Hair clip! Enough hair for a hair clip! A friend was watching the kids one morning and when I picked them up, Ellie had a little clip in her hair. She showed me how to put it in so that it STAYED ALL DAY.

Of course, Ellie fails to appreciate the occasion and prefers to eat her hair clips. Whatever. 

We also pulled out the walker, but she's not very good at turning yet, so the walls are in constant danger. It's rather a high maintenance toy at the minute.

I'm enjoying the heat if only because sundresses! Baby! Baby in sundresses! Have I mentioned I love having a girl?

Because Ellie is so very small for her age, our visits at the doctor usually include a conversation like this:

Doctor: "And you really should start giving her solid food."
Me: "Oh, she is on solid food."
Doctor: "But you should give her more solid food. Even if she refuses a food, you should find something else for her to try."
Me: "But she doesn't refuse food."
Doctor: "Then you should give her more food."
Me: "You don't understand. I can't give her more food. I let her eat until there's literally No More Food."
Doctor: "Oh. Well maybe add another snack."

Josh and I are engaged in a secret (well, until now) competition to find a food that she won't eat. We've had some pretty serious competitors--including spicy curry, salsa, and sriracha--but none of them have survived the Hunger Games: Baby Edition.  At this point, there is a high probability that she lacks taste buds altogether, because if Josh and I don't like something, we just scrape it into her bowl. The closest she's gotten to refusing a food was finishing her first bowl of split pea soup and not immediately demanding a second bowl (but she happily ate leftovers the next day).

All that food seems to be working, though. Remember this picture? Taken last August.

Nine months later....

Ah, time. You are a cruel master.

She's a daredevil who loves to sit on the big girl swing all by herself, who loves to climb then slithers down HEADFIRST, and who took her first solo step just a couple days ago. She's a total squirmy wormy who prefers to be held upside down, sideways, or thrown over a shoulder.

 And then there's Kekoa. Kekoa-the-crazy. Kekoa-who-is-almost-three-and-don't-you-forget-it.

After Memorial Day picnic - that's a little boy's face if I ever saw one

Kekoa who suddenly appeared to develop a rather morbid fear of death. Kekoa who used to love naps and bedtime, then suddenly started resisting by saying, "But I don't want to go to bed! I could DIE!"

It took a while to figure out, but one of his picture Bibles has the story of the little girl who dies and then Jesus raises her from the dead. Which, apparently to a toddler mind, means that if you lie down on your bed, you will probably die. Whatever that even means to a toddler.

In the meantime, most of our other conversations center around food.

Kekoa: "I'm hungry."

Me: "Okay, I have some soup for you."

Kekoa: "No thank you. I'm a different hungry."
***

Me: "Are you a copycat?"

Kekoa: "No, I'm not a copycat!"
Me: "What are you then?"
Kekoa: "I'm hungry!"

***

Me: "Okay, the toilet is clean enough now. But if you're very calm and patient tomorrow, I'll let you clean the toilets again tomorrow."

Kekoa: "Hurray! Thank you so, so much! See ya tomanow, toilet!"

***

Genius strikes on a fine spring day

Kekoa spontaneously bursts into tears.

Me: "Why are you crying?"

Kekoa (in between hiccup sobs): "Because my neck is clean!"

***

Me: "Did you know that I love you?"

Kekoa: "Yep!"

Me: "Do you know who else I love?"

Kekoa: "Wonder Woman!"

***

He also got two temporary tattoos, an octopus and a whale, who proceeded to have a conversation.

"Hi Optotus"
"Hi Whale."
"Are you getting tired?"
"Yeah, I'm a little tired. Are you getting tired?"
"No, I'm not tired."
"Okay. See ya later."
"Okay."

It reminds me of my brother's infamous knock-knock joke at 3 years old, that one that was so lame that it was hilarious. "Knock knock. Who's there? Pig. Pig who? Goodbye pig."

Sometimes his conversations between toys are a little more passive-aggressive and typically follow a particular failing of mine (like refusing a dessert request at 8am):

"Hi Mater. Can I have a special dessert?"
"Yes, you can have a special dessert! Want to share some jello?"
"Oh yes! Thank you Mater! I love you! You're my favorite!"

"Hi red train."
"Hi blue train."
"Can I watch Cars?"
"Yes, blue train! You can watch Cars TWO TIMES!"
"Oh, thank you red train! Thank you so, so much!"

Ellie climbed up onto Kekoa's bed. Kekoa was thrilled to have a bedmate, so he laid next to her, they giggled together a little bit, and then they both went to sleep (which was an extra nap. No complaints here!). These are the days that make all the toy-sharing, eye-poking, and clean-neck drama worth it.