The Perfect Ending

You can’t always get what you want, but in the end you get what you need.
I spent the first days after stopping breastfeeding mopping around, declaring myself to be in “a funk”; Unable to enjoy things that normally excited me, unable to be truly present to my children. I’m writing this in past tense because I didn’t feel like writing anything but dark, sad, moppy posts like this just a few weeks ago when all the tears were streaming down my I’m-so-sad-I’m-done-breastfeeding face.
Willy and I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. We had tickets to see Willie Nelson at the Hollywood Bowl and plans to leave the kids at my parents for the entire night. But I just couldn’t seem to shake the post-breastfeeding-blues.
I can’t tell you when the change occurred but what I can tell you is that Willie Nelson played his Stardust album from front to back and it was beautiful. There really is nothing better for the soul than music, in my opinion. We woke up the next morning and went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market by ourselves and in the absence of the munchkins, we got to dig through buried treasures and stroll leisurely through the aisles. We picked up the kids in the afternoon and went to the Ventura County Fair. We rode rides, pet goats, ate chocolate covered Twinkies. And when we got home and put the kids to bed, Willy and I climbed up on the roof and laid there under the stars to watch the meteor shower.
And, just like that, my funk disappeared. It only took a country phenom, some time with my main squeeze, a ferris wheel, and a sea full of falling stars to shake it. But alas, I shook it.
Then again, it was probably that chocolate covered twinkie because, um, hello they don’t even make Twinkies even more. Hash tag: deadstock. Oh ya, and I didn’t have to worry about breastfeeding. That was nice.
Oh ya, and you see that little San Francisco shirt Hooper has on? It’s something I bought when I lived in SF years ago, before I knew my husband as my husband… when I had only dreams of motherhood. And seeing my first born in it now not only makes me one happy Mama, but also puts things in perspective. Life is good.

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Brothers

Van, you scoot a lot faster when Hooper’s bottle is within sight. Hooper, you know your brother is fond of your cup. I watched the other day as you moved your cup close enough for Van to reach, waited for him to put his hands on it, at-which-point you grabbed the cup and ran away.
You were both playing with door. Van, you put your hand down on the ground and, Hooper, you proceeded to close the door over Van’s hand on purpose.
Van, you love grabbing Hooper’s hair. We’ve found a screaming toddler only to look down and discover a fistful of blond locks in your grimmy hand. You can be kinda aggressive.
Van, you love to make your way to Hooper’s room every night as Papa gets Hooper ready for bed. Hooper, each night as you put on your pajamas and brush your teeth, your brother is sitting in the doorway, watching. He idolizes your world.
Hooper, we played airplane the other day and with your chest resting on the bottoms of my feet high up in the air, you waved to your brother who was below, “Hi brodher”.
In general, you two are quite fond of each other and play well together most of the time.
You two are my world,
Mama
Side note: I’ll be announcing the winner to the Little Flourishes giveaway on Monday!

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Summer

One night, as some friends and I walked out of our book club meeting, I said, “Lately I’ve been feeling very wistful. Childhood is speeding by so fast. It’s such a cliche, but it’s true.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” one friend answered. “Whenever I get annoyed by the mess stuck to our refrigerator door, or about having to keep a stroller in the hallway of my apartment, I remind myself that these are the good old days.”Gretchen Rubin (as seen here too)
Side note: Many congrats to Darby, you are the winner of the Little Sweet Pea

 

giveaway. Remember you can still get free shipping with coupon code StorkFreeShip.

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Hooper @ 32 Months

Growth & Appearance: Your hair is growing longer and is often in your eyes. You don’t seem to care what-so-ever, so we’re letting it grow until you can tuck it back behind your ears. You’ll be the girl we never had and a pretty one at that.
You hate brushing your teeth as of late, especially the top front teeth, and thus they are yellow every now and again. You have no one to blame but yourself. The neighbors probably think we’re torturing you every night before bed.
You’ve grown out of all of your size 2T pants both in the waist and in the height. It’s possible that this happened a while ago, but we haven’t been wearing pants due to the triple digit heat and when I tried to put them on you the other night… well, it looked like you were ready for a flood.
You’re tall and thin.
Eating: Grrr… the dreaded topic of eating. Some nights you are just a downright pain in the ass. Feeding you is rarely easy. You’re not motivated by food at all. I made you try a bite of watermelon the other day and you pocketed it in your mouth until I asked you to spit it out 20 minutes later. It was watermelon, for goodness sakes. Even at a birthday party the other week, you carried around your cupcake until the thing nearly fell apart from being carried around for so long. I’m at a loss as to what to do. I’m still making you smoothies and you do eat well, but the struggle is unbelievable at times.

Sleeping: Your naps have been hit or miss as of late. You either nap for 2-4 hours, poop your pants and then refuse to nap, or refuse your nap from the get go. It depends largely on what you did the day prior. You missed your nap two days in a row, for example, and on the third day I woke you up after 4 hours of napping. Your schedule looks like this: wake up around 8:30am, nap around 11am to 2pm, bedtime around 9pm.

Talking: You add a lot of plurals to things that aren’t pleural. We kinda like it, so we don’t correct you. For example, you brought me a toy and referred to it as “brokens”. You saw money in a tip jar and referred to it as “monies”. And when you saw us walking with Van, you said, “brother walkins”.
You have a lisp with all of your S’s. You Papa mentioned taking you to speech therapy, but I think you’ll grow out of it. I guess you can blame me if years from now you’re still thrusting your tongue into the back of your front teeth.
I heard you having a full on “conversation” with your brother but I couldn’t understand exactly what you were saying.
Comparatively, I think you’re a little behind in speaking than other kids your age, but you’re constantly adding words and saying new things so I’ve never thought twice about it. You’re able to communicate all your needs and wants, even if it’s just through whining, which happens often.

Development:
You can catch a ball. I ask you to put your hands out, you do, and then I toss you the ball and you catch it. This leads to a touch-down type celebration and almost instantly Sarah joins in the fun and then things just get out of control.
You like to march. Not sure where you learned this or how you know it’s called marching.
You started swim lessons. You definitely don’t love it, but you don’t refuse to do it either. Instead, you sit there with your bottom lip out and awkwardly say “hi” over and over again. You don’t interact with any of the other kids.
You started horseback lessons on the days your Nina has you. I hear you like it.
You like to draw and are starting to pay attention when I tell you what shape is what.
You’re a spitting machine and like to spit on everything. Initially I ignored it, hoping that if I didn’t pay it any attention it would go away. It did not. Ask your Papa, he got it right in the face. It’s your new thing.
You play a game your Papa calls “magic hand” before bed. This is when your hand hasn’t popped through the sleeve of you pajamas and you pretend that it magically appears, thus “magic hand”. Then you hide your hand behind your back and play it all over again.
You flap you hands wildly by your side and refer to them as your fly-fly wings.
In general, you’ve been sweet as can be lately (minus the spitting). In particularly, you’ve been extra loving toward me, greeting me with big hugs when I come home and coming up to me randomly throughout the day for unsolicited hugs. You’ve also been sweet to your brother, asking to “pet him” often.

Favorites: Your favorite books are “Wacky Wednesday”, “Go, Dogs, Go”, and “The Bike Lesson”. You’re still obsessed with watching Curious George and I’ve welcomed it as a nice reprieve for when I need a moment of silence. We started some crafts, like painting, and you have artwork on the fridge to show for it. You love playing with the “nah-der” (water) outside. And, oh yes, your cars are still a big hit.

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Summer

“Make mudpies. Jump in puddles. Climb trees. Lie in the grass. Dream big. Build a fort. Run barefoot. Slay dragons. Play in the rain. Reach for the stars. Imagine. Tread gently. Sleep soundly.”
-Unknown
Hope everyone had a happy and safe 4th of July. We spent the day at the beach and plan to do so again today because it’s my birthday and I want to spend it with the sun on my back, sand in my toes, and my family by my side. Happy Friday!
Side note: Congrats to Heather Manu for winning the gift card to Sweet Threads! I’m emailing you right now! And thanks to all who entered. Remember you can still use promocode STORK20 for 20% off your purchase through 7/20/13!! And the grand opening of their shop in Long Beach is tomorrow. Click here to find out more details! 

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Brothers

Motherhood has such a way of slapping you in the face, doesn’t it? I mean I’ve found myself wishing for something one minute, only to get it the next and curse it through and through regardless. Like the day Van was born and I “couldn’t wait” for him to get to know his brother. Now he knows his brother and you know what? His brother’s one big bully. Now I find myself eager for the day Van can stand and balance, and well, fend for himself. Though I know I’ll be cursing those days where they’re here too.
Anyone have any helpful hints on building a friendly sibling relationship? I can practically hear my mom laughing through the computer screen.
Side note: You have two more days to enter the giveaway for a $50 gift card to Sweet Threads. You can enter here. And don’t forget about their grand opening in Long Beach (see post for details). I’ll announce the winner on Friday. I consider Shella, the face behind Sweet Threads, so thank you for supporting those close to me.
Side side note: I have the privilege of being Modern

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Kiddos newest contributor. You can read an interview they did with me here and check out my new feature, Widdle Wednesdays, here.

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Hooper @ 31 months

Growth & Appearance: More times than not, we have you in pull ups. You’re wearing size 3-4T and, despite the larger size, one side always seems to be riding up your butt. We enjoy starring at your butt cheek hang out one side. Being that it’s summer, you’re usually sportin’ nothing more than your pull-ups or your undies. Less laundry. That’s how we do it.
Your hair is getting longer and you’re in desperate need of a trim but we’re also dedicated to letting it grow out. You can blame the hair in your eyes on our indecisiveness. I didn’t put a bobby pin in your hair the other day, no I didn’t.
You’re wearing size 8.5 shoes and, for some reason, you have more shoes than ever before. With any luck, your feet will go on a growing hiatus.
You still rock the bumps and bruises and your toes, especially, are almost always busted… this can be attributed to the fact we let you play outdoors barefoot quite often. What’s summer without dirty scabbed feet?
Eating: I may eat my words next month (no pun intended) but feeding you has been much easier this month. We’ve reverted to some of our old tricks with a mix of new tips and strategies we got from Kary. So far, so good. For the most part, you eat what we’re eating which is a huge improvement. The downside is that you typically need some distraction, encouragement, or assistance in getting the fork to your mouth. Once you get going, you’re fine, but getting you going is the challenge. And some nights you never “get going”.
While you’ve made improvements in trying new foods, you’re still tentative. I gave you piece of watermelon the other morning, for example, and you pocketed it in your mouth until I told you to spit it out. I mean seriously, what kid doesn’t like watermelon? And if you don’t like it, why do you allow it to sit in your mouth for so long? You’re a tricky little one.
I make you a “shake” a few days a week that consists of spinach pureed with berries. You like it, but I have to sit with you while you drink it because it takes forever. I must say, “take another sip” like fifty times. But, at least, you listen.
Things you like: Whole wheat frozen waffles, oatmeal with banana mashed in it, cottage cheese, pizza, avocado and cream cheese sandwiches, strawberries, apples, eggs, PB+J sandwiches, peas. But, if it were up to you, you’d eat Cheerios every morning for breakfast, mac n’ cheese every afternoon for lunch, and chicken nuggets every night for dinner. We don’t leave it up to you. Sleeping:We accidentally left your playpen in Arizona. This has resulted in you napping in your bed. Initially we were pissed  because we knew this could compromise your nap (aka our “break”) but it’s worked out fine and iit’s actually quite nice not having that big playpen in the middle of your room.
Not much has changed in your sleep pattern. You wake up around 8 or 8:30, nap from 11ish to 2ish, and go to bed around 9pm. We have officially cut out your second nap and even though your brother still naps two times a day, it feels much more freeing.
When I ask you if you want to cuddle before going to sleep, you tell me to “go away”, and I support your independence.Talking:
When you pick up the phone you say, “hello, over”. I don’t know where it came from but it sounds like you are talking on a walky talky.
I chuckled to myself the other day when I told you the phone was ringing “off the hook”; In your day and age, I doubt you’ll ever actually have a hook to hang a phone on.
You refer to CD’s as “records” and I don’t correct you.
You  know not to grab Sarah’s tail because it’s where she “makes ca-ca”. You’ve taken this a step further, however, and like to point out where all animals make ca-ca. I’m fairly certain you think animals shit out their tails and, again, I don’t correct you.
The way you say “smell it” sounds like a derogatory word used to describe homosexuals that rhymes with maggot. As a side note, gay people can now get married. Frankly, I’m surprised this didn’t happen long ago. I hope your generation continues to support equality and celebrate diversity.
When you’re cold, you ask to be made “cozy”. For example, if we’re driving in the car with the air conditioner on, you’ll cross your arms across your chest and say, “cozy pweez”. Then we turn the air off. You also say the same thing when we put you down to sleep, prompting us to wrap you tighter in your blanket.
You love to play your harmonica. You call it your “ma-ca-ca-ca”. Sometimes you’ll bring me your guitar and request that I play the guitar while you play your ma-ca-ca-ca and we’ll dance about. 
Development: You love playing with cords and sticking the cord in the outlet to turn something on. It’s clearly not safe but you know how to take the safety device off. You also like sticking keys in locks. You’re a typical guy in that you like to put things in things.
When you bump your knee or skin your elbow, you request for me kiss it before declaring it “all better”. It made for an awkward moment the other day in the bath when, trying to swim, you nicked your twig and berries and requested for me to kiss it. I told you to have your future wife do that. You said, “okkkkkkayyyyy” with a tone a teenager would use after being warned three times in a row to drive more safely.
You’re potty trained, most of the time. You wear underwear during the day and pull-ups at night and during naps. You wake up with a dry pull-up some of the time, other times you can’t quite hold it and pee in the morning. You’ve been poopin’ in your pull-ups during your nap, but sometimes you’ll go on the toilet before I put you down. The other day we were out to dinner with a bunch of friends and your Papa pointed out to everyone that you were up near the stage dancing. Turns out you were peeing your pants. Mistakes like this don’t happen often (usually only during naps and overnight), but you were a good source of entertainment that night (even with pee streaming down your leg).  If you earn yourself a time out in your room, you like to pee on the floor as a way of saying “thanks for the time out”. That’s cool.
You’re more destructive these days. There was one day where you went into your room and threw everything on the floor.
You’re shy, initially, in social situations. Once you warm up, you are very personable and friendly. At that same dinner  with friends that I just mentioned, you made friends with an older man that had these huge bug eyes and kept insisting that he throw you up in the air. It was both cute and creepy at the same time. You wouldn’t leave him alone (though he was enjoying it too) and eventually he asked where your mom was.
The other day you came up to me with one of your wooden blocks and, clear as day, said “number six” while pointing to the number six. I was so amazed, I pointed to the number five and asked you what number it was to-which-you-replied, “number six”. And now, every time I ask you what something says the answer is “number six”.
You’ve been caught red-handed a few times as of late and each time you squeeze your eyes shut as tight as you can with the sliest smirk across your face. I wait until you peek through one eye for you to realize you’re busted. This happened when I caught you playing in your room during nap time and again in the car when I caught you crawling around eating old cheerios off the ground.
You like to hop all over the house and refer to yourself as a “jumpee bean”.
You like to make Sarah sit and shake before giving her a treat. Then you give her a hug and call her a “goo dog” (good dog).
Favorites: You love to “fly” and often request to be taken to the front yard and spun around in circles. One time is never enough so we usually end up doing it over and over and then walk around like drunken sailors.
You love motorcycles and request to “sit on it” every time we encounter one, but whenever one of the biker dudes invites you to actually sit on it, you chicken out.
You like to fake fall. And by fake fall, I mean you like to body slam whoever is lying down beside you. You’re like a little WWE star in the making; only you need to EAT more to get big and strong so your body slams actually have some sort of, um, impact.
You could play in the car all day everyday. Almost every time I turn the car on, the windshield wipers are going, my brights are on, the left turn signal is blinking, and the back of my seat is at an awkward angle. You love driving down the block on my lap and happily wave to all the neighbors like you’re the star of the parade.
Also making the “favorites” this month, and seemingly every month, is Curious George. Only this time you’ve seen the movie and now you request Curious George with the “el-fent” (elephant) over and over and over and over and over and over.

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Portraits of my children

I opted to photograph Willy for the 52 week project this year for a lot of reasons. For one, men are often neglected in the baby blog world. I wanted to pay tribute to Willy and all he represents. Additionally, I photograph my children endlessly. I have more than a portrait a week to share of each of them and dedicating an additional post each week seemed redundant. In any event, these are some portraits of my little guys from the past few weeks that I wanted to share. Find yourself wondering if our children are ever in clothes? The answer is sometimes, but more often than not, rarely (less laundry). And yes, we tucked Hooper’s tank into his undies and then we giggled about it. And his little bird legs? They kill me too. Just like his Papa.

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The {not so} terrible twos

The terrible twos seem to be a thing of the past. In hindsight (damn hindsight for always being so perfectly clear), much of Hooper’s behavior was probably connected to that little munchkin of a brother we just plopped into his life and expected him to openly embrace. Much of the acting out in general has calmed considerably. I can’t remember the last time I had to give him a time out or pull him off to the side or disciplined him in that way where if looks could kill he’d be dead. Of course, he has his days. He is still two.
Majority of the day, he’s my little buddy. I love this age so much that I still find myself wishing Van would hurry up and catch up even though I know I ought to be appreciating the fleeting stages he’s growing out of faster than I can say “slow the f*&# down”. Motherhood is like that: a dichotomy of hurry up, would ya? and slow down already, speedy speederton. Why can’t someone invent a mom remote?
I digress. Hooper has been all kinds of sweet. He’s playful and warm, friendly and inviting, cautious but mischievous. He loves to laugh, he loves to have your attention, he loves dance and jump and go crazy. This kid is really something special.
Hey Hooper, I love you, I do.

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Toddlerhood

 When Hooper turned one, I wondered if it was still appropriate to refer to him as my baby. He didn’t seem quite like the fully dependent infant I brought home from the hospital, but he still seemed far from the fiercely independent toddler.
I’ve been referring to Hooper as a toddler for a while now. In hindsight, I think I became comfortable with the label when Van came along and became the true baby of the house.
But then something happened, and for the first time ever, I one hundred percent knew he is, indeed, a full blown toddler. It happened in Palm Springs when he fell asleep on the bed within the first ten minutes of coming in for the day from the pool. You see, Willy and I always wondered when it would happen. And by “it”, I’m referring to the fall-asleep-anywhere-because-I’m-all-outta-gas phenomenon. We’ve seen the pictures of toddlers falling asleep during dinner with their faces submerged in their spaghetti or the infamous toddler asleep in the stroller. But this has never been Hooper. And it’s not because he isn’t a good sleeper, he is. But he’s never been one to fall asleep anywhere other than his bed or playpen. 
I watched his head bob back and forth as the rest of us moved about in the room. Van whined, Sarah played about, and Hooper slept. Hard.
True toddlerhood. He feeds himself. He uses the toilet. And he conks out after a day spent in the pool. I suppose we’ll transition from toddler to kid when he stops sucking on those two fingers and can put on his own shoes and socks. Until then, I’m savoring the toddler stage.

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Bits + Pieces, Underwood Family Farm

If you live in the area, you must check out Underwood Family Farms. Tractor rides, petting zoo, pony rides, pick your own produce… this farm has it all. It’s one of my favorite ways to spend a day together as a

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family.

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Hooper @ 30 Months

Growth & Appearance: Your knees are always scabbed, your shins always bruised, and your feet are always dirty. You’re a true toddler. You’re tall and thin, but your belly is almost always sticking out (despite the fact we rag on you for being such a terrible eater). Your hair is blond on top, brown underneath. More and more, I think you look like your Papa, but with my eyes.
You’re wearing size 3T clothing, with some room to grow. Size 8 shoes. You’re tall enough to ride the kiddo rides at the carnival. 
Eating: We’re all doing better with your eating. Your Papa has made a huge effort to make the table more of an inviting place and the tension has lessened considerably. We’re giving you more independence over what you eat and how much you eat, with the occasional boundary here and there; because you can’t eat chicken nuggets for every meal. There was a girl that did that, I believe, and she died or something. True story.
You’ve gotten better at trying new things and I’m doing my best to keep offering you new foods to try. We’ve also started making smoothies that consist mostly of frozen berries and boat load of spinach. You like them, so that’s a win.
You drink with a cup now on a regular basis. You feed yourself, using mostly your left hand. 
Sleeping: You like to be “cozy”. Some times, after putting you down for a nap, I hear you stirring about and will go in and check on you. You request to be made “cozy”, upset that the blanket has become loose around you. I tuck you back in as best I can and you wave you little palm up to the sky and say “by-yee!”.
You’ve picked up on the fact that asking for “more cuddles” will prolong nap and/or bed time. Every time we tell you it’s time to go to sleep, you raise your little index finger in the air and say, “cuddle, minute” (aka, let’s cuddle for a minute). We’re suckers for your manipulating loving ways and we pull you close and hold you tight for as long as you’ll let us.
The other morning, I heard you whining at 6:30am, which is way earlier than your normal waking hour. I went in your room and it became clear that you were still tired but perhaps had a bad dream. I laid down with you and I spent the next hour watching you twitch in your sleep; your arm laying flaccid across my face, your little body next to mine. It happened again about a week later. Not gonna lie, kinda hope these nightmares stick around.
We’re still forgoing the second nap. Some days we are home and you appear ready for another nap and I need a break, so I put you down. More times than not, you’ll nap in the morning and stay awake until it’s time to go to sleep for the night. Your schedule looks like this: Wake up between 8 and 9am, nap around 11 until 1 or 3 (it varies greatly), and go to bed around 8:30pm. As I type this, you are supposed to be napping but I can here you tickling your stuffed animals.
You woke up the other morning and the first words out of your mouth were, “peanut butter”. Then we cuddled in silence. Talking: Those that aren’t around you on an everyday basis note there has been a word explosion. At times it feels like the world is one big game of pictionary.
You dropped your guitar and said, “Oh shit”, clear as day, over and over again. We ignored it, but apparently we need to start watching our mouths. That will be a challenge for your Papa and I.
You’re starting to put two adjectives together, like “big blue truck”.
When I say, “thank you”, you say, “nell come” (aka “welcome”). When we give you something, you say “shanks” (thanks).
You speak in first person; The ball got away from Van and you said, “I’ll get it”.
You know that frogs go “wibbit”, snakes go “ssssss”, and alligators go “chomp”.
You can tell others that your brother’s name is Van but you’re unsure what to say when people ask you “how are you?”.
Things you like to say with your index finger pointed toward the sky: “cuddle minute”, “back minute” (aka, I’ll be back in a minute), “one show”. 
Development: Where has all this energy come from? It seems like overnight you’re moving faster, sleeping less, and into everything. I was beginning to wonder what was wrong when your Nina pointed out that you are a full blown toddler now. You’re wild and rambunctious and always wanting to get into more than you’re supposed to. You push boundaries; you climb, grab, and take. Some days it feels like I’m following you around telling you constantly what you cannot do. You used to sneak by with a bath every other day if time didn’t permit, but now you require at least one bath a day.
You love playing outside, shoveling dirt from the plant to your wagon. You refer to it as “cleaning”. I refer to it as “more work for mama”. But I let you do it, as it keeps you occupied for a nice chunk of time.
I pointed out your shadow and, ever since, you’re quite fond of it. I tell you to give your shadow a hug and you chase after it endlessly. You like to watch your shadow on the wall as you jump up and down on your bed, then you proclaim, “shadow go boom!” when you jump to your butt.
You’re getting better at riding your scooter. More times than not, you ride with your left foot forward and push with your right. You use your spoon with the left hand as well, but occasionally use your right as well.
You’re beginning the transition out of parallel play, where you simply play alongside another child. Whenever you see a group of kids playing, you want to join them. You approach them with only the slightest hint of uncertainty and always greet them with a big “Hi-yee”.  
Favorites: You love Curious George and insisted on “the man in the yellow hat” when I tried to change it up and put Cat in the Hat on the other day. When you’re overly rambunctious, Curious George is my saving grace. As soon as it comes on, you start air kissing that silly little monkey. You’re also still into your cars, a long time favorite. And playing outside. Thank god. You love gardeners and insist on being outside to watch the trash trucks go by. Oh yes, and keys. You love fitting keys into locks whether they were made for the hole you’re sticking them in or not.
Some of my favorite posts, featuring you, from this past month:
Hooper Eats (about your shitty eating)
They come in all shapes and sizes (your size, compared to your brothers at the same age)
Hooper & Van (you and your brother)
The Roosevelt Hotel (photos of mostly you, while your brother napped in the closet)
Shits & Giggles (on potty training)

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Shits & Giggles

That moment when your mom tells you you can have candy if you poop on the potty but you just finished pooping in your pants before your mom sat you on the toilet? Ya, it looks like

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With that said, I’m done being a lazy ass; I’ve committed to potty training. What does this mean, you ask? It means that I travel with extra toddler clothing in my car. It means that when we went to the beach the other day I brought a portable toilet. It means I say, “Do you have to use the potty?” more times than I say “no”. And I say “no” a lot. It means that outside the bathroom door is a bag of M&Ms. It means I sit him on every public toilet regardless if he says he doesn’t have to go. It means that before leaving the house, in addition to putting shoes on, gathering snacks, changing Van’s diaper, getting dressed, and so on and so forth, we also sit on the toilet. It means that he wears underwear during his nap, which also means I run the risk of a nap time interruption to use the potty.
And you know what? It’s not as bad as I thought. He still refers to the public toilet scene as “scary”, but he goes when I sit him on the seat. Nap times have not suffered in the least. He’s had a few accidents, but they are few and far between and he’s able to hold his pee overnight most nights. We use a mix of underwear, training pants, and pull ups. At night we still use diapers but plan on transitioning him to pull-ups as he’s gone several nights in a row without wetting his diaper. The only box left to check was the poop box, but he’s doing that without a problem now too. I think he was holding out on us for fear of having a ghost turd… Not familiar with ghost turd?
Per Urban Dictionary:
Ghost Turd:
When you sit on the can and you can swear you’re droppin a load, but when you turn around to admire your work there’s no sign of it
Example: Oh, man, i just laid a ghost turd.
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They come in all shapes and sizes.

I had a conversation with a dear friend who is also breastfeeding. Like me, it’s a love hate relationship. Much like my breastfeeding relationship with Hooper, she expressed concern over how much milk she was giving her baby and if it was enough. I remember these concerns all too well and I probably sound like a broken record talking about it yet again.
I still have the same concerns that I did with Hooper, with Van. The only difference is that all I need for reassurance is to grab Van’s chunky leg. I encouraged my friend to feel good about her decision to breastfeed and reminded her that her baby looks perfectly happy and healthy.
Then the conversation turned to percentiles and I found myself reassuring her that the 50th percentile is a wonderful place to be and found myself diminishing her fears and justifying mine by reminding her that Hooper was, at one time, in the 10th percentile. As we talked, I got on the computer and began searching for a picture of what I remember to be a very scrawny Hooper. And the conclusion I came to was this: He wasn’t ever that scrawny. I think hearing “the 10th percentile” scarred me more than any image of him during that time.
So the take home message is this: They come in all shapes and sizes. Percentiles, smerpentiles. If I had to do it again- because living in hindsight is one of my requests for when that genie pops up- I’d ask our pediatrician not to even share the percentiles with me. In the end, the percentiles did nothing other than cause me unnecessary turmoil.
The first photo above is of Hooper when he was 36 weeks old and in the 10th percentile for weight. The one below that is of Van, in the same week of life, and I believe in the 60th percentile (though, to be honest, I’m not even sure what percentile he is anymore) for weight. I can’t even tell that much of a difference. I know, based on the clothes Van’s wearing, that Van is much larger than Hooper was at his age. But the picture of Hooper certainly doesn’t scream TENTH PERCENTILE out at me.
How do you feel about percentiles? Did hearing your child’s percentiles cause you any unnecessary worry?
Side note: Same house, different kitchen. A reminder that I still need to share our kitchen renovation…

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Hooper @ 29 Months

Growth & Appearance: I could have sworn you had all of your molars, but mysteriously another appeared. Now you have all of them. You handled them pretty well, but they definitely caused more commotion than your regular teeth which seemed to magically sprout overnight with little interruption in your routine. The molars came with a runny nose, poor appetite, and fussy behavior. But, they’re all here, so that chapter is closed.
You almost always have a bruise or bump somewhere these days, a testament to true toddlerhood. You had the most bizarre scratches on your cheek, almost like you had run through a rose bush. They appeared after we took Sarah for a walk and we’re still not sure when, exactly, you got em’. You currently have a bruise on your forehead from tripping over a rope in the neighbors yard, a scab on your wrist from who knows what, and scabbed knees because, well, scabbed knees are part of growing up. Speaking of growing up, can you slow down? Seriously, you’re on warp speed these days and it needs to slow yo.
You’re still in size 4 diapers, size 7 or 8 shoe, size 3T (with some room to grow) clothing. 
Communication: Not sure where you picked it up, but the other day we were coming out of an elevator and as we walked past the people waiting to go in you said, “essue me” (excuse me). I’d like to take credit for your politeness but instead I’m left scratching my head.
You say “thanks” unprompted after we do something nice for you. If we give you your milk, for example, you grab it and say “thanks”.
You’re beginning to say real sentences. We were playing in the car the other day and said, “Mama, close the door”. Your Papa and I both looked at each other with our chins on our chest, proud that you said your first real sentence and disgusted that it was so bossy and cute all at the same time.
You know dogs say “ruff ruff” and cats say “m-owww”. The majority of other animals, according to you, say “roarrrrr”.
You can say hippopotamus.
You use your pointer finger a lot; like when you have an idea or want to watch “one” show or when you’re telling Sarah “no”.
You use plurals. You request to watch “one show”, though other times you request “two showS”. You also use plurals inappropriately like when you ask for “egg and baconS”, when you show us your “moneyS”, or tell us the shoes go on your “feetS”.
You have a noticeable lisp when you say your “S’s”. We think it’s pretty charming.
You call your scooter a “fooder” and your grandpa a “gee paw”.
You can tell us you need to use the toilet by saying, “Pee pee, potty” and then you grab your twig and berries.
Sentences include: “Close the door”, “Sit here Papa”, and “No barking doggy”. Essentially you say all the important things.
You copy things we say and then use them inappropriately. For example, we ask, “Do you want mama to hold you?” and then, when we’re not asking but you want us to hold you, you say “Mama, hold you”. We also referred to your balance bike as your “new bike” when a friend brought it over for us to have. It’s been months and you still call it your “new bike”. We don’t correct you. 
Eating: You love using your step stool and watching us cook. You also like to use your step stool to spy on what’s on the counter. Using your step stool in the kitchen has also tipped you off to the fact that you can use just about anything as a step stool and, as a result, you are a climbing-onto-surfaces-you-shouldn’t-be-on machine these days. And it all started by trying to get you interested in food. What a fail.
I mentioned last month that we brought in an Occupational Therapist to help us out in determining a game plan for dealing with your picky and fussy and annoying behavior at the table. It’s all quite lengthy and I have a separate post in the works dedicated to the details. What I can say is this: Your eating problems are a combination of an overly-involved-anxious-about-how-much-you’re-eating father and a poor role model mother. But don’t go blaming us for the rest of your life, you’re equally difficult and definitely add your own flavor to the pot. We’re working on it, but it’s been a tough and trying road.
Sleeping: We decided to get rid of your second nap. I’m sure most parents would probably find this decision completely crazy, but it was becoming so difficult to do anything during the day. We decided to move your bedtime up to 8:30 (one hour earlier), though that doesn’t always happen. Here’s your schedule, most days: wake up around 8:30am, nap from 11:00am to 2:00pm (sometimes even 3:00pm), go to bed around 8:30pm. You still nap in your playpen because we don’t fix what ain’t broken. You spend the night in your bed. We added a safety knob on your door that prevents you from opening your own door, something we should have done a few months ago. Development: You clean up after yourself. Not always, of course. But you enjoy collecting trash and bringing it to the trash can in the kitchen. You usually clap for yourself after you’re done and say, “yeah guys”. By the same token, I had read somewhere that if your child makes a mess you should have them help clean it up to, you know, learn about consequences. The problem for us is that you like cleaning it up almost as much as you like making it. In fact, sometimes I’m convinced you spill your milk just to be able to clean it up.
You learn things fast and only need to be told something once before you’re repeating it. We were looking at a motorcycle parked in the parking lot, for example, and you pointed to the helmet and said, “hat”. I corrected you and told you all about helmets. The next time you saw a helmet, you knew what it was.
You love pointing out “men”. Whether we’re driving in the car or sitting in a restaurant, if a stranger catches your eye and he’s male, you point and say, “man”. You recently learned that in addition to men, there are also women. And now you like pointing them out too.
Now, when we ask you “how many”, the answer – no matter what- is three. It was two for a long time, but three has taken two’s place.
We finally brought you a scooter. You switch off between leading with your left versus right and enjoy riding it down the hallway. You haven’t taken off, so to say, but you definitely enjoy it. You like watching me ride it too and, truth be told, I take it for a spin around the house after you go to bed and I’ve had a glass or two of wine. Don’t judge.
You have a new found concept of being tall and like to climb onto higher surfaces and describe yourself as “tall”.
You insist on looking at the poop in your diaper. As soon as I take your diaper off, you wave your arms violently in the air and yell “see ka ka, see ka ka” until I show you what came out of your butt. You also like to look at Van’s poop. It’s weird.
You’re a dancing machine as of late. Your form of dancing used to be very white boy-ish, with flapping elbows that looked more like a drunk man doing the chicken dance. But lately, you’re starting to shake those hips and I’m starting to wonder to think you may have some soul dancing through your blood.
You associate all things that are leaving or gone with going home. You point out the planes, for example, and proclaim “home”. When the Easter eggs were all gone, you proclaimed they too had gone “home”. In general, when I tell you things are all gone, you take it one step further and ask if they’ve gone “home”.
You’re potty trained at home. The reason you wear a diaper out in public is my fault. I haven’t taken the plunge. We’ll get there soon.
Favorites: You love motorcycles. You still call them “da!” but occasionally you pronounce the whole word. Each time you spot one parked in the street, we have to stop. You could stand there and stare all day long; no matter how much time we spend admiring it, it’s never long enough. In fact, when you were sleep deprived in Palm Springs you threw a tantrum and threw yourself down on the curb and refused to leave the motorcycles side. It was a long day and needless to say, we all learned that it’s not smart to skip nap times. You also still love your cars and play with them on a daily basis. You go through spurts of loving books and want to read the same one over and over until that book “mysteriously” disappears. You could play in the car for hours. Every now and again we drive down the street with you on our lap. You like to wave to all the neighbors and yell “hi-yee” at the top of your lungs.

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