Sam is Crawling

We've been monitoring Sam's progress for a while, expecting that any day now, he'd figure out how to keep his knees up and under him and coordinate his arms and legs to start moving on his own.  Jack crawled at nine months, but we didn't expect Sam would match that date since he was eight weeks premature.  We were wrong.  When I arrived home today, I put Sam down on the bed while I changed.  He immediately took a four point stance and started scooting toward me.  Previously, he could achieve only the four point stance, rock back and forth, and then push himself back up into a seated position.  For a while, he was pushing himself backwards, but driving in reverse wasn't his goal, I imagine.  

While we celebrate this momentous occasion (pun intended), it's time to break out the electrical plug covers, and start moving all items below waist level to higher ground.  

Facebook is my Happy Place.

I'll admit it: I really dig Facebook. It probably has not generated one red cent of business for me, but it makes me feel good knowing that I can keep in touch with my close (and not so close, and some just people I barely know) friends.

In a rare but nonetheless free moment, I jumped on to see what people were up to and ran across a "note" written by a law school classmate and fellow Law Review slave, Sarah.  It's called "Mosaic of Me."  It is as follows:

---

Rules:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search (http://www.flickr.com/).

b. Using ONLY the first page, pick an image.

c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Mosaic Maker. Change rows to 3 and columns to 3 (http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php).

d. Save the image and post it on this note.

If you're tagged, pass it on. And tag the person who tagged you.

The Questions:

1. What is your first name?

2. What is your favorite food?

3. What is your favorite color?

4. Favorite drink?

5. Dream vacation?

6. Favorite hobby?

7. What you want to be when you grow up?

8. What do you love the most in life?

9. One word to describe you?

Here's what I came up with (and yes I did follow the instructions):

So for the rest of you out there who blog, I invite you to go through the excercise. Heck, it beats writing original content any day.

[Answers: 1) TJ, 2) Sushi, 3) Blue, 4) Bud Light Lime, 5) Fishing Quietly, 6) Golf, 7) Marine Biologist, 8) My kids, 9) Tired.]

A Sad Excuse for a Post.

Things have been a little hectic for this writer. I keep telling you people to encourage Ashley to write on this thing, but so far, she's been unpursuaded. Step it up a notch, please; I do have a day job, you know.

Since the last post:

• Sam cut one tooth, then another (both bottom front), and has started sleeping longer stretches in the night (6 to 8 hours at a time), inbetween the nights the teeth were coming in which were "not fun";


• I went to The Masters in Augusta, Ga. It was incredible; and,


• Jack has taken two swimming lessons and, for the first time, dunked his head under water and did "swimmy arms" by himself. To date, he's been deathly afraid of water and getting near it, although he does enjoy the 2' deep kiddie pool at the Club. He was very proud to tell me that he had gone underwater, and I was equally proud of him for it.

Our Little Existentialist Veterinarian

During a recent outing, Jack and I had the following conversation.  To preface it, you have to understand that with potty training in full swing, there's a lot of talk about pee-pee, poo-poo, and the various tools and mechanisms linked to those activities.  

The conversation began when Jack told me, not five minutes after leaving the house and not six minutes after I had asked him if he needed to use the facilities before we left the house, that he needed to relieve himself.  This conversation ensued:

TJ:  "Jack, can you hold it buddy?  We have about five more minutes left in our drive."

Jack: "Yes, Daddy.  I have a gate in my penis."

T:  "[chuckling] Oh really?  That's good.  Please put a lock on your gate until we get to the park."

J:  "Okay.  [pause]  Jesus put the gate in my penis."

T: "[now a little confused at how we arrived here] Is that so.  I'm glad he did that.  Please use what he gave you."

J: "Okay.  Jesus made my penis."

T:  "Well, sort of in a round about way, yes. But... [I had no idea where to go from there, so I just faded off.]"

J:  "God made Jesus."  [Ed. Note:  Romanians agree.]

T:  "Well, not exactly, but we'll cover that ground when you're a little older and we can discuss the Trinity."  

[a 90 second pause.]

J:  "Daddy, who made God?"

T:  "Uuuuhhhhhh..." 

I tried to explain that "some" believe that we (man) created God (the "opium of the people" and all that jazz) and that others like us believe that God just is and was.  A little deep for a three year old, but I did my best to put it in his terms.  Thankfully, he chose to change the subject shortly after my mini lecture:

J:  "Daddy, when Mommy and me went the mall a few weeks ago [it was more like two months ago] we saw doggies.  One of the doggies ate his own poop.  Then he prolly threw up 'cuz when doggies eat their own poop, they throw up."

Existentialism and veterinary advice all in one 10 minute drive!

The Wee One.

Everyone seems to enjoy video of the "wee" one.  

The Potty Training Diaries - Week 9

So it's been a few weeks since I've written about our struggles with pottytraining. Frankly, it's been sort of a "Battle of the Bulge-esq" "please-for-the-love-of-everything-that-is-good-and-holy-pee-pee-in-the-potty" slug-fest, with both sides deeply entrenched, while the icy hands of frustration clasped us all.

Then, as it did in the Ardennes, the bad weather lifted, and the "good guys" prevailed. Jack seemingly "decided" on his own that he was going to emulate his dad, lift the lid and pretend to make yellow snow. So far, we've gone about 4 days of this practice, and to the extent that he was able to achieve "new scooter" status on his Potty Chart. So there's been lots of scooter riding in the past couple of days.

In fact, yesterday (Thursday) I returned home to learn that he had been "dry" (i.e. no incidents in his diaper) all day and that he had used the toilet four times.

We're still working on #2. Much to his credit, he's tried, but he claims it just isn't working. (The line from the Austin Powers movie comes to mind, "WHO DOES NUMBER TWO WORK FOR!?!?!?!" "Yeah, you show that turd who's boss.")

Found.

There are times when my normally finely tuned, task-oriented brain just up and quits and forces me to do a little bit of unconstrained thinking. It means I start reading either a random Wikipedia entry (there's a "random entry" button on the left bar of the Wikipiedia page) or get updates from friends' blogs, and then jumping from those pages to other linked blogs, then to another, and another until my brain is ready to get back on track. A smart man once told me it's the "playful puppy" nature of our brains, and sometimes we just have to indulge it so that we can stay efficient and on task the rest of the time.

Today, I had a moment which required some play time with my brain puppy.

So I started here. Then went here (which seems like a cool app and one I may try someday). Then here (a very neat photography blog). Then here. The last was my favorite. A truly unique and well honed approach to topical blogging, but yet one that leaves the door wide open to a wide variety of topics for discussion. I think the easiest trap for bloggers to fall into is limitation of subject matter to such an extent that finding new and interesting topics to write about becomes near impossible.

[UPDATE: This is pretty funny. I found this doing a search for "baby in a bar" on Google Images, something I refer to quite often. The second photo posted is what I located and couldn't live without. I also love the "dead to me" section in the left column.]

Things I Had Hoped I Would Never Hear Myself Say.

As you know, we're in the process of potty training Jack.  Boys are notoriously harder than girls to train (yes, that's our excuse for having a three year old wearing diapers), and it has been a challenge with Jack.  Complicating matters, he's strong-willed, so on good advice, we've been letting things take their course, encouraging the issue with promises of treats and rewards for repeated use.  He's warming to the idea of the potty, er... toilet, and he has even been asking to wear his "big boy" underwear that we bought him for his birthday in January.  

Long story short, Jack was with me in the kitchen tonight, hanging out while I cleaned up bit, sitting on his favorite stool, in nothing but a tee shirt and his big boy undies.  I looked over, saw activity I didn't condone (and certainly did not want to foster over the long term) and said, in a firm, stern voice,

"Jack, stop playing with it.  It's not a toy."

Yes.  The "it" is what you think it is.  

Buddies

 

It's good having buddies nearby.  I never felt like I had good friends within walking distance growing up.  Jack is blessed to have one of his best friends, Charlie, footsteps from his front door (back door, really, but who's counting).  And Sam and Charlie's little brother, Wes, are only 10 weeks apart.  And Ashley and I really enjoy Charlie and Wes' parents.  They're loads of fun, easy to get along with, and don't frown when we pop a bottle of wine or a beer.  

[Yes, friends, that's the famous couch the boys are sitting on.  It will likely have to be incinerated once we're finished with it.  No amount of reupholstering will save it, I'm guessing.]

Little Conversations

I really love the little conversations I have with Jack.  He's 3 years and two months, but communicates adeptly and grasps concepts far beyond his years.

Jack's was sick all day.  He threw up at church this morning, and then again once he was home.  He tossed cookies after a few sips of blueberry/pomegranate juice.  Of course, he vomited on our couch so we've got a new blue stain to add to the hundred or so others that now dot our once delightfully tasteful couch.  

When Jack's sick to his stomach, he is very, very sedate.  But he also engages in conversation.  This is contrasted against when he's well and he simply barks commands and makes silly faces 24-7.  He obviously takes after his mother. 

For dinner, Jack wanted yogurt, but not just any yogurt: Strawberry Scooby-Doo Go-gurt.  [Go-gurt, for those who don't know, is a newer product; a way for yogurt retailers to reach the "overworked, on-the-go mom" market, while charging more money for less product.  It's yogurt in a plastic tube.  One end is a stamped and cut such that it easily rips open and becomes the end you eat out of.  You simply squeeze the yogurt up from the bottom and eat as you go.  Quite genius, really. The best thing since sliced bread, one writer believes.  I will admit that I have enjoyed a few from time to time, since you can eat them on the way to work without worry of dripping on your outfit.  They do make "adult" versions.]  

So Ashley searched, but came up empty.  So Jack settled for a regular strawberry-flavored yogurt, in the standard cylindrical container.  Sitting down to eat it, he exhaled deeply in disappointment. [sarcasm] Oh the injustice of this world. [/sarcasm]

Later, putting away the leftovers from Ashley and my dinner, I found one.  It had been partially eaten - more than half was left - and put back in the fridge for later use.  [This is not a blog for germophobes.  We hate to waste food while people in this world starve, so most of Jack's half-eaten food ends up in the fridge again.]  Regardless, having found what I believed to be the Holy Grail of Jack's cuisine crusade, I showed it to him.  He was now on the couch, lounging comfortably, having consumed all of two bites of his yogurt and a few slugs of chocolate milk.  The following conversation ensued:

TJ:  Jack, look what I found! [Proudly brandishing the Scooby-Do Go-gurt.]  You want it?

Jack:  [Eyes never leaving Wonder Pets,]  No thanks. 

TJ:  Why not?

Jack:  [Again, eyes fixed on Wonder Pets,]  It's old.  

TJ: What?

Jack:  It's too old to eat, Daddy.

TJ: [In classic parent-to-child patronizing tone,] Okay then, I'm going to throw it away.  And if you get hungry later and want Scooby-Do Go-gurt, you'll be sorry because you had the chance to eat it and you didn't.

Jack: [Turning to finally address me, and shrugging his shoulders,] Okay, throw it away.  I'll just get another box tomorrow.