4 months and fabulous

So Gracie had her 4 month check up with her regular pediatrician this past week.  Um, yeah, she's gained 1/2 pound in the past week.  So that puts her at 16 lbs, 15 1/2 oz.  (Or a whopping 17 lbs if you round up that last half ounce).  That is ABOVE 97th percentile.  She's also 24 1/2 inches long (50th percentile) and her head circumference is in the 50th percentile as well.  The doctor did not say we need to put her on a diet, but he DID say she needs to level off and try to gain just a pound a month rather than the 2-2 1/2 pounds she's been putting on.  Apparently, if she keeps gaining weight like she is it will impede her ability to develop physically--as in sit up, crawl and walk (the latter 2 I don't mind delaying).  So as we are to be introducing cereals and veggies, we are to take away her nighttime bottle.  She only wakes up for it half of the time anyhow, so the doctor suspects that it is more out of habit than caloric need.  Should she just desperately want a bottle, we can give her water.  Apparenly my fears of her needing her big girl car seat before she can sit up were not unfounded.  My sister assures me that I'll be able to prop her up in the grocery cart by wedging her between a blanket and my purse.  I've started Gracie on some core muscle excercises (aka the exersaucer) to help her out.  We're getting H's carseat a girly cover and hunting down a safe high backed booster for the Pickle.  (Because I just read that the 11 of the most popular booster seats have been put on the unsafe list by the Highway safety people.)

"The Sweetness" (as G is known to her Daddy), because of her growing, gets to wear several outfits a day.  We've grown to love dresses as they allow her to hit the buffet without having to undo a button.  (BIG shoutout to the Donovan girls--Lily, Eve, Ruby, Tess, Mollie and Erin--for the cute clothes.  Wore the pink dress to church on Sunday.  A dress so cute I don't even mind that I have to iron it.)  Today she is wearing fleece pants, a 9 month onesie, and a fleece hoodie vest (that is not unlike a sausage casing on her).  Sloan laughed at her outfit this morning, and I guess he has a point: why does a 4 month old need a vest, much less a vest with pockets and a hood?

Henry has enjoyed playing with her in her gym as she now coos and talks to him.  Henry is very into investigating noises as of late, so she's a hit with him.  Although he did ask to hold her the other day and about 3 seconds post lap placement he shrieked, "Off Gwacie!  You're heavy!"  Poor Grace.  Henry also enjoys "being siwwy."  This includes putting Gracie's Bumbo seat on his head and telling me he is "Darf Vader".  I'll try to capture this on film, but his Silliness does not like to pose for the camera. 

Thank you to all of you who emailed me or commented in order to encourage me with the biting.  So far, we have been bite free this week (or at least since Sunday).  He talks about his boo-boo less and less and it is always in the context of "Papa (what he calls my dad) fixed my boo-boo.  Papa is doctor, Mommy.  Did you know that?"  Yes, Henry.  I knew that.  Except he doesn't give most of his patients $5 for visiting him--apparently that is just for grandkids.  (Although with 14 grandkids that IS a lot of patients!)  He has been working on his manners in always saying "No, Thank you," "Yes, Please", "Yes/No Sir/Mam"--(although it is mostly NO SIR!), and even saying "Pardon me" when he burps.  In fact, yesterday, during breakfast, I burped.  He looked at me and said, "Pardon you, Mommy". 

Henry's bloody mouth

There are many reasons I've been slack about updating the blog as of late.  For starters, our computer is slowly dying and it is a bear and a half just to check email much less update the blog.  I am supposed to have the new computer by March 1 and I am counting down the days and rearranging the furniture in the office/living room.  (No, not a requirement.  But I tend to rearrange furniture when life gets hairy.  I suppose on some level I believe that furniture placement is the source of my problems.  Probably something deeper going on there, but I really don't have the brainpower to parse that out right now.)

Secondly, I've been working on some artwork for Gracie's room.  It is now completed and at some point I'll post a picture of it.  It's working title is "How Tweet the Sound."  And yes, it is a collage of a birdy.

But mostly, it has been because my children have slowly been driving me crazy.  Last week I cried because I realized that at some point, Gracie will be 2 and this knowledge overwhelmed me.  Yes, I have a bit of time before this happens.  And right now I'm mainly praying that Gracie doesn't outgrow her infant carrier prior to being able to sit up. 

You see, we're still dealing with the biting.  And I've been mostly silent about this because mentally I'm so over talking about it.  I get it.  He shouldn't bite.  But what is a molehill to me is a mountain to others.  Yes, it is a bad thing.  Yes, we are talking with him about it and let it be known that Thomas does not like to play with biters and this may be the ticket to no biting.  (Thomas is British and despite being known for messed up teeth, the British are known for their manners.  So it is with much sadness that Thomas gets put away--and I mean all 100 trains, Lego trains, Thomas books and movies--and stored in grocery bags for the entire day a biting occurs.)  But as Moms have approached me in an effort to be an advocate for their children, I've pretty much said little.  But I feel now it is appropriate to be an advocate for my son.  Guess what?  He is two.  Almost three.  Big shock he has issues with self-control.  He gets this from his mother, who at 32 has issues with self-control. I literally had to give up saying "That's what she said" and "Your mom" jokes for lent and it is about to kill me.  (Of course, it doesn't help to have a husband who attempts to set me up.)   I don't mean to downplay his errant behavior, but really, do you need to talk about it with your friends and say things like, "Well, you really need to get control of his behavior.  None of my kids were biters because we told them it was wrong."  "Maybe you shouldn't put him in Sunday School for awhile."  Or my favorite, "He really is an agressive boy.  Perhaps you should work on helping him to be more passive."

Nope.  Not going to do it.  Henry is a boy and the world has enough passive men in it already.  Sure, he needs to learn to share and be selfless, but unless he develops a sense of self prior to these lessons, he will be a pushover.  I do not think that the fact that Henry bit your kid is a sign of a greater problem lying ahead.  It shows nothing about his character at large.  Moreover, I understand you take issue with my parenting.  Join the club.  I take issue with it.  I don't know what I'm doing.  I'm just loving him and disciplining him and trying to show him that, indeed, he needs a Savior just like Mommy.  And to suggest that I remove him from Sunday School is also problematic for me.  If church isn't a place for sinners, where is?  Perhaps my son's bite on your child's arm is an opportunity for you to speak with your kid about compassion and the need to pray for our friends who struggle.

So yeah, I'm a failure of a Mom.  And while you are 'advocating' for your child, let me simply ask that the next time you want to talk about this, you speak to my Advocate.  His name is Jesus and He's already paid for both my child's and my sins.

I'm cutting the kid some slack.  Apparently he is so under stress from Gracie joining the family that he is now suffering from his 5th canker sore.  His mouth has been bleeding since January.  We went to the Dentist yesterday (my dad) and we now have meds and special mouthwash.  Not so sure about the Magic Mouthwash as we haven't gotten the idea of swishing down.  And I'm not completely convinced that the two mouth issues aren't related. 

On a lighter note, Henry graduated from Speech therapy on Friday.  He was retested and no longer has ANY developmental delays.  To be more accurate, the child will not shut up.  All we hear about is Thomas, Lighting McQueen, Baby Gwacie, and the boo-boo in his mouth. 

But to the mothers of the kids in his Sunday School class, I will have you know that not only did Henry make it all 2 1/2 hours of his class today during my Bible Study without biting someone--he also won the obedience game.  (A game that's description sounded a lot like Freeze tag.)  That's right, Henry is the obedience champ.  Chew on that.

Valentines Day and FAT Tuesday

My facebook status on Friday was that I was a shrew of a wife.  Let me explain...

Henry was at preschool and I was getting Gracie dressed when the doorbell rang.  It was a box from Pro Flowers.  For some odd reason, this made me mad and so I began talking to Gracie about how ridiculous and unromantic her father is.  (Note to self--this is HIGHLY inappropriate behavior.)  The rant went something like this..."What a waste of money.  I like getting flowers, but he couldn't take the time to go get me some and bring them to me?  And I bet you he even got a vase.  Like I need another one of those.  Guess what's going straight to the recycling bin.  He used to be romantic, Gracie.  When we first started dating, he sent me roses twice in one week.  The second time was because they mispelled his name on the card.  It said "Love Solan".  I used to laugh and call Solan the God of Florists.  I bet your dad doesn't even remember that.  How unoriginal is flowers for Valentine's day?"  This rant lasted an entire poop explosion diaper change.  I finally get around to opening the box. 

Guess what?  The flowers were from Solan.

Thank you, Lord, for affirming to me that I am the least gracious person on the planet.  And thanks for giving me a man who loves me despite my being a shrew. 

Oh, and did I mention that I didn't get Sloan Solan anything?  OK, I got him a card that basically said I think I'm great.  (Because all other Valentines cards are either too crude or from the cheesy Nicholas Sparks collection.) 

Him?  Well, he got me flowers, a corsage to wear to our annual Valentine's dance, The Time Traveller's Wife (which was SOOOO not as good as the book), and a Darth Vader Lego watch.  The watch was from the kids, but seeing as they a)have no money, and b)no transportation, I'm counting this to be from Sloan as well. 

This is what I woke up to...

And the kids also enjoyed some Valentine's day treats.  Chocolate for breakfast.  We had two of our nieces spend the night because they babysat for us while we went out.  We paid them in letting them play the Wii.  That's the best price in town...

And yes, Henry is wearing his Halloween pajamas.  Stop judging me.

And why did I also call this post FAT Tuesday?  Because Gracie had a check up this morning at MCV, and my baby weighs in at a whopping 16 lbs, 7 oz.  That's 97th percentile in weight, folks.  But she has grown to 24 inches, which is in the 40th percentile in height range.  The doctor was also surprised to hear that Gracie can roll from both front to back and back to front.  Apparently, this is early to be rolling both ways, and I quote, "That's a lot of weight to be throwing around for a little one."  Gracie is literally so fat that the doctor complimented me for being able to keep all of her fat folds clean.  This is because sometimes Grace's neck smells of sour milk and I have to bathe her so I don't gag from being disgusted.  There was this guy who worked at my high school, the guy who washed the basketball team's uniforms, who did not keep his rolls clean and whenever she gets stinky I think of him.  It's a pretty good incentive.

But there is my funny Valentine.  If she were stretched out you would see that this top, which is supposed to be a loose fitting tunic, is a bit like a sausage casing on her.  And the leggings give her a muffin top.  But dang, is it just me, or is she freakin' adorable?!?

I think he gets it from me...

Me:  Get your finger out of your nose.
Henry:  I'm picking it.
Me:  Yes.  That's gross.  Stop picking your nose.
Henry:  But I have boogers.
Me:  I'll get you a tissue.
Henry:  (looking at his finger)  That's okay.  I got booger.

Anticipation

I cannot remember the last time I was this excited.  Maybe August 27th, 2004 (the day before I got married)?  I can't say I was all that antsy prior to Henry or Grace's births, because they both came into my life at unexpected times.  But folks, in about two weeks, IT will arrive--my new computer. 

Our old desktop has been slowly dying.  We've considered installing a handcrank to make it go faster.  It no longer will show us photos on our desktop.  Or, there is a photo, it is simply squished into the top two inches of the screen.  And it will randomly shut off or go into hibernation.  Thus, we signed up for Carbonite and began hounding our favorite computer guy, D, for recommendations. 

Let me just say that not only is my new computer going to allow me to check my email while lolling about in bed (I don't know if I'll ever do this, but it sounds fantastic just to have that as an option), but could also even print out an email were I say, checking my email while in the potty (also not something I plan on doing but nice to have as an option, right?).  Mainly, I'm excited about being able to blog while in the family room, or say, check out the walkthroughs for Lego Indiana Jones (Sloan's bday gift) while actually playing the game. 

And most importantly, my new computer is cute.  And it does all this cuteness while helping fight AIDS in Africa, because I ordered a laptop with a fancy dancy cover from the DELL (PRODUCT) RED collection.  I tried snagging a photo of my cute laptop, but apparently there are copyright issues and the like.  But if you want to see just what I am waiting with baited breathe for, go here and check out the "Love, Peace, and Happiness--Blue" design by Emil Kozak. 

Awesome.....

Best Sister-in-Law ever

Don't let Henry's face fool you.*  We love Aunt Pam.  A lot.  She's the greatest.  I think she may be the only sane person in my family.  Although, that is not really saying a lot.  But she has put up with me since I was in the third grade (my brother married his high school sweetheart). 
Also, let it be known that while I may have been too slack to actually take my kids out in the snow to buy a birthday card, the Phillips family spent some time crafting this one this morning.  And that's what counts, right?
Oh well, Happy Birthday Pam!  We love you bunches and bunches!

*The crying really is Henry's poor contract negotiation skills.  I told him he could have a new Pez if he sat nicely on the couch with his sister.  (Notice the Lightning McQueen Pez dispenser at his foot.)  Like anyone smart who hires a contractor, I only gave him half of the goods up front.  He is upset that the Pez dispenser is empty.  I guess he has a point, what good is a dispenser with no candy? 

Snowed In

I grew up going to camp kamp every summer.  (Yes, I intentially spelled it with a k.  I went to Kanakuk, where all things begin with K.)  And each year we'd go spelunking.  At some point in the expedition, we'd all be instructed to turn out our lights.  It is very dark in caves.  We'd all sit silently in the dark trying to see if we could see our hands if we put them on our faces.  We could not.  Eventually, someone would start laughing or yelling, because in that darkness you think for a brief second, Hey, maybe I'm alone in here.  Happened every time.  With all this snow, I feel a bit like I did then--hollering to see if there is any life out there.  This cabin fever is exacerbated by Sloan being out of town for work and so I'm snowed in with the kiddos.  Yes, my driveway has been cleared as have all streets in my neighborhood.  But it is super cold and I just can't justify taking Gracie out in the cold just to get the one thing we don't have--bananas.  (No matter how much it makes my son cry at breakfast.  I had to substitute with a Chocolate Chip Zbar this morning to make it alright that Yes, we have no bananas.  We have no bananas today.)  I found myself staring at the Live feed on Facebook, willing someone to update their status.  I have won over 2 million studs on Wii Lego Star Wars.  I've done about four loads of laundry while Wii-ing, so in my mind, that makes it less dorky.  We don't need to talk about how I looked up walkthroughs on the internet. 

I don't have any cute pics of Henry in the snow.  Because it is up to his knees and it took all of 15 minutes for him to be over it.  We wore pajamas all weekend.  As in, we woke up and changed into new pajamas for the day.  We've watched Nemo and Ratatouille.  I've read every Thomas book known to man.  Twice.  We've eaten grilled cheeses for no less than three meals.  We've taken baths simply because there is nothing else to do.  Yes, I could be cleaning out my closets, cleaning the fridge, or potty training Henry.  Don't wanna.  We did, however, do some pretty good crafting tonight.

Friends, meet Henry in his "Bo-bot Box."

My mother in law sent some clothes to Sloan today in this box.  Henry was so excited because he thought it had Legos in it.  Boo hiss to the clothes.  So he stuck it on his head.  Which lit a lightbulb over mine.

And then we painted it!

I'll post pics of the final product later.

But the cutest part of the Bobot Box was the following conversation Henry had with himself while wearing it.  He was looking at his reflection in the windows along the back of our kitchen.

Who is it?  Is it Mommy?  No!  Is it Santa?  No.  Is it Jesus?  No.  It's Henwy bobot box!

(Don't you just love how he asked if it was Jesus?  I will have to remind him in a decade that he knew he wasn't God at age two...)