Category: Hooper

Hooper @ 31 months

by Ashley filed under Hooper
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

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Photography, Van
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

by Ashley filed under Hooper

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

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Parenting

 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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Hooper @ 30 Months

by Ashley filed under Hooper
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

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Parenting

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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this.

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.
Side note: Can you spare a few seconds? You can vote daily by clicking the link below. Thank you to all who voted yesterday; I’m in third place… highest standing I’ve ever been. Woot.

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They come in all shapes and sizes.

by Ashley filed under Breastfeeding, Hooper

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

by Ashley filed under Hooper

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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Style de Hooper

by Ashley filed under Hooper

I was wondering when the neon-goodness from the 80’s would make a return and I think it’s damn near time. This tank from Hello Apparel is all kinds of comfy (printed on an American Apparel tank). I bought Hooper the size 4. Hello Apparel is currently having a crazy sale and everything’s going fast. The leggings are from Mason and the Tambourine, which is quickly becoming my new favorite. These leggings are so soft and stretchy. I bought Hooper a size 3. I’m hoping they last a while cuz I’m not ready to put

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The Terrible Twos

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting
My son is bipolar. Not literally but more in the sense that all toddlers are bipolar. He’ll raise his hand to hit me one minute and the next minute he’ll stroke my arm as if to say, “I love you, mom”. He’s experimenting, I get it.
One of the most important things in caring for a toddler, I’ve learned, has been to care for myself. The more rested and hydrated and fed and groomed I am, the more patience I have. On the days I don’t have time to shower or even change out of my pajamas, where I’m exhausted from Van waking me in the middle of the night (a rare occurrence as of late, thank goodness), and where feeding myself becomes tertiary to feeding the two little birds waiting for me to drop a worm into their mouths, I’m not as good of a mom as I know I can be. I’m sure every mom would agree with this. It goes without saying that the more rested and more prepared we are, the better we are at, well, everything.
Back to Hooper being bipolar. This kid flips between hitting and kissing like a ping pong ball in play on a Japanese table tennis court. The other day he raised his hand toward my head to stroke my hair and I scared him when I flinched, expecting to be smacked. Instead, I got a slobbery hand caressing my newly washed hair. It’s inconsistent, to say the least, but it’s nice to say that I’m not always the victim of abuse.
We’re working hard this week on positive reinforcement and rewarding “normal” behavior.
What’s working with your toddler this week?

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A Tour

by Ashley filed under Hooper

I’ve been promising this room tour for some time now and you know what finally kicked my ass in to gear? The thought of changing it. Willy and I are constantly changing things around the house and with the plethora of toys that seem to be taking over our home like the ivy has taken over the backyard, I’ve begun dreaming of putting the boys in the same room and designating the spare bedroom as a play room (AKA Shove all the kids shit into one room room. Yes, I meant room room). I digress.
This is Hooper’s room, as it appears today. I had to include a couple old (and by two year old standards, old means like 6 months ago) pics of Hoop playing in his room. There aren’t many pics of Hoop actually in his room because he hardly ever plays in there and because Willy insists on draping two sheets over the windows to fool him into sleeping longer, making it a f’n hassle to take any photos. I digress, again.
Most of what’s in his room was either mine as a child or purchased second hand from thrift stores, consignment shops, or flea markets. For the sake of clarification, we did not name him after the Burt Reynold’s movie, but that is a pretty cool print, no? Sure makes me want to change my name to Hooper so I can fly cars over large bodies of water. The book shelves on the wall are actually spice racks that I painted from Ikea (they cost a mere 5 bucks or something ridiculously cheap… for both of them). The bed and vintage school desk are both from a local flea market. The dresser is from a consignment shop in Big Bear. Almost all the toys and decorations, like the Norman Rockwell prints, were things my mom saved from my childhood. I still, believe it or not, have a few things I need/want to do before it’s finally considered finished in my book; like adding this wonderful illustration that Sarah Dyer did along with a few other odds n’ ends.
But for now, there you have it: Hooper’s room. Ta- freakin’ -da.

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Hooper @ 28 Months

by Ashley filed under Hooper
Growth & Appearance: Your father (I refer to him as your “father” when he’s in trouble) decided it would be a good idea to trim your bangs, which had been pecking your eyes like a bird at bread. He might as well had put a bowl on your head and given you a trim. Needless to say, for the first time ever, I started using product in your hair to allow you to rock the comb over look. When your bangs hang straight down, each end meeting perfectly in line with the one next to it, you look straight up dorky. Yeah, I said it. I’ll keep combing it on over. And, you’re welcome. Your hair has darkened up a bit and is the sweetest dirty blond.
You have eczema on the back of both of your knees. This is from your father, who says he had it throughout his child and adolescent years. He remembers it as a horrible experience, so you can thank him for that.
In other news, all of your two year molars are in. I hope this means less bipolar behavior.
Your feet are just nearly grown out of size 7 and these are the first set of shoes that may not make it through a Van cycle. The worn in souls and the shotty Velcro serve as a testament to days spent puddle jumping and galloping free as a bird. You’re still in size 4 diaper, when you wear a diaper, size 3T shirts and pants and pajamas. 
Eating: Oh lordy, it’s painful to even discuss. You suck at the table. I know we are largely to blame for many of the bad habits you have and we’re trying desperately to find the way out of the hole we’ve been digging. Desperate times call for desperate measures and I’ve actually arranged for an occupational therapist to come in and throw a rope down to the bottom of the cave where your Papa and I sit shivering in the cold. Our hope is that we can find peace during mealtime; meaning no ultimatums, no distractions, no bite by bite negotiations. It’s gotten incredibly time consuming and frustrating and while we both understand that you’re a toddler, we need to be on the same page as far as how to handle your toddler behavior at the table. If you ate every meal like you did chicken nuggets, however, dinner would be a breeze. I think that’s the only meal you eat entirely on your own with no fuss and even request more when you’re done. I can’t lie, I wish I could give you chicken nuggets for every. single. meal. But alas, I love you and want you thrive. Damn my love for you. Life would be easier if I just didn’t care. 
Talking: There really isn’t anything that you don’t say. You’re able to put a few words together. Here’s some of your most used phrases: “Papa, sit”, “One show, pweez”, “More sicken (chicken)”. You’re picking up so many words these days that oftentimes we don’t understand a lot of them. We used to speak your language and be able to translate for others but now I find myself shrugging my shoulders, unsure of what it is you’re trying to say.
The outside world remains one big game of pictionary. You love riding in the car and pointing out the buses and motorcycles (still called “da!”). You like to point out random male strangers and pronounce, “man!”. In fact, several times a day we say “yes, yes, Hooper, you’re right, that is a man”. I’m dreading the day you add adjectives and label someone as a fat man or a smelly man or an ugly man. Oh the lessons of life yet to come.
Sleeping: You’re still number one sleeper. You sleep about 10 hours at night and roughly 4 hours during the day (2-3 in the morning, 1-2 in the evening). As always, your evening nap is hit or miss. We still put you in your playpen for the naps because it’s easier for us and, like most things that are easier for us, has become a hard habit to break. You’re just as happy to nap there as your bed and you never fight a nap or bedtime (Picture me kissing the sky above, because that’s exactly what I’m doing right now). You sleep with your blanket (which you still call your da-dgee) and a bigger blanket (which you call your big da-dgee) and several stuffed animals that all have their own names: cooooooow, Niles, Jeff, Dan, Andy, Montner, to name a few. And yes, we did name a stuffed clown after one of your grandpas and cowboy smurf after the other.
You seem to have forgotten how to open your door. For a while there, you’d magically appear in our room. Now, when you wake up, you plant yourself at the foot of your door and wait for us to come get you.
Development: You have a concept of things being “gary” (scary). I think it’s a game, but you play the scared role well. Papa pretends to be a monstor and you come running toward me saying “gary, gary” and insist on being held. Yesterday you started running from Sarah and insisting she was scary too. You noticed a long dark hallway at a restaurant and referred to it as scary. You were happily playing with two older girls and when something went crashing and made a large sound, you refused to play with them any longer and kept referring to them as scary. We use your new found fears to our advantage by chasing you with the scissors so you now find them “gary”. This has solved the problem of you going in the drawer and trying to take the scissors out.
Along the same lines as your “gary” shenanigans, you now let out random screams. We think you picked it up from Curious George. Anytime any sort of commotion is going on, you look at us and let out one big loud scream. We were at a Spring training baseball game when a foul ball hit someone a few rows back. You picked up on all the commotion and let out one of your Curious George sceams. You also scream when Sarah is being overly rambunctious and, in general, during any times of mayhem.
You’ve figured out that blowing into your straw creates bubbles and you like this. You also like quacking like a duck and walking around in circles with your fists nestled into your armpits like duck wings. You love riding your balance bike and are able to balance well on it. It’s time to get you a bike or scooter, but we have yet to do so. Your legs are nearly long enough to start peddling.
You’re connecting concepts. Like the concept of swimming, for example. The other day we were making pasta and you pointed to it in the pot and proclaimed, “pasta fumming” (aka pasta swimming). The door of your imagination has cracked open and I’m sitting on the edge of my seat to hear how it all plays out in that little head of yours.
The jury is still out as to whether you are right or left handed. You tend to draw with your left, throw with your right, and eat with both your left and right.
You do a good job of entertaining yourself and are independent in all aspects other than eating.
You play the butthole game with your Papa. This is when you say, “butthole” and then Papa tickles you to near death. I’m not sure how I feel about this game because I’m your mom and I’m not supposed to encourage things like you saying “butthole”, but you really enjoy it and I’m quite certain it sounds like “pothole” anyway. Yeah, I’m going with pothole.
You mimic, oh do you mimic. The other day you copied me by resting your chin on your hand with your elbow on the table. You also do your own version of push-ups, something you picked up from your Grandpa (though I’m not going to lie, I wish you picked it up from me).
Your memory is on point. It’s amazing the things that obviously find a little corner to make a home in your brain. Like when we went to Arizona and you started looking for the balls you had hid by the sofa months before.
You’re a great traveler. You enjoy looking out the window at the passing cars and can easily tolerate a whole day of driving in the car. We’ve driven to San Francisco and Arizona (about 6-8 hours) and both times have been a breeze. I hope this translates to you enjoying the open road as an adult. Make sure you go places, ya hear?
You’ve become a good little helper. You clean up your toys at the end of the day and seem to enjoy putting all your cars back into your little suitcase just as much as you like taking them out. You’re better than I expected at sharing and like to pile your brother under a mountain of miscellaneous objects. You’re generally sweet and kind hearted. You’re a gentle soul and you love to laugh. You enjoy being the center of attention and play that role well. You’re a good sharer most of the time and love being rewarded for a job well done.
You have moments of toddler tantrums, but they seem to have simmered down considerably and are rather few and far between these days. Nevertheless, you still raise your hand to me, but more often than not, it lands on my head and is followed by a gentle pat. You love the reinforcement you get for being kind and rewarding normal behavior has done wonders for the terrible twos.
You can count. You refuse to do it when we ask, but at the most random times, you’ll go all the way from one to ten with a few hiccups in between.   
Favorites: There is a book called, “The Bike Lesson” by the Berenstain’s that you love. We read that a lot. You also love tractors and motorcycles. Whenever we see a parked motorcycle, we have to walk over and admire it for a least a few minutes. You still like arranging your cars into separate piles and are back at spreading your toys all over the sofa, making sitting down near impossible without ruining one of your piles. Luckily, it does not upset you in the least to have one of your piles pushed to the side. When this happens, you go right on to making a new pile. You’re adaptable that way. The gardeners are still one of your favorites and every time you see a truck with a lawn mower in the back, I have to pick your jaw up off the floor. You’re also still quite impressed with trash day and insist and going out to watch the trucks go by. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion this may start to get “gary”. Oh you little rascal, I sure do love you.

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My Little Nugget

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood
Dear Hooper,
You woke early from your nap, crying a cry that begged for my attention; begged me to forfeit the few minutes I usually give you to leisurely wake up. I came to your side and you were still lying in your playpen, tucked beneath blankets big and small and cradled, on each side, by a sea of stuffed animals. You stayed lying down and rubbed your eye as I turned on the light and turned off your humidifier. Your eye has been red and watery since yesterday and I’m immediately concerned that it’s bothering you. What bothers you, bothers me; we’re intertwined like that.
I scoop you up and hold you in my arms as I kneel on the floor beside your playpen. You’re naked, wearing only your diaper. Your blanket is draped over my shoulder and I can smell you on it. I enjoy the moment for what it’s worth, expecting your head to pop up off the crook of my shoulder momentarily. I know these moments are fleeting, but for whatever reason, you remain weightless in my arms; a part of me.
My neck starts to ache from the angle I have to hold it to accommodate your toddler frame. I debate whether I should take the chance and move to the bed, knowing that moving could wake the go-see-do toddler energy in you.
We move to the bed and you remain sunk into my frame; you legs sandwiched in between mine, your head still on my shoulder. I can feel the dampness of you hair, still wet from your bath. My fingers trace the outline of your spine all the way down to your diaper, which crinkles every time my fingers meet it. You have your fingers in your mouth and I listen as you periodically suck on them. You stop sucking to gasp for air, still congested from the cold that got the best of your Papa and brother as well.
You lie there long enough for me to relax; long enough for me to truly be present and forget about the laundry and the dishes that wait for me outside your door. I lift my head up off your pillow and peek at your face. Your eyes are closed. My fingers trace the outline of your face, running from your forehead down to your chin. You have not slept on me since you were an infant and I struggle to remember what those days were even like.
I start to get choked up, lying there with you. I can feel a lump in the back of my throat and a single tear traces a path down my face. I’m not sad, I’m in love, and I’m overcome by it. Engulfed in it.
You slowly get up, kneeling by my side, your eyes weary and your fingers still in your mouth. You say nothing, but you’re looking at me. I wonder what you’re thinking. I reciprocate the silence, still trying to hold on to what just was.
And then you say, “Chicken”.
You make your way off the bed and I follow behind you, your blanket dragging on the floor between us. And I feel like the luckiest mom in the world.
Love,
Mama
Side notes: Congrats to Nicole Weiss for winning the giveaway to Custom On It. I sent you an email 🙂
Also, I’ve been ping-ponging back and forth between 5th and 6th over on Top Baby Blog. If ya’ll wouldn’t mind throwing a vote my way, I would be filled to the brim with joy. Simply click on the link below and then on the brown box above the owl. You can vote daily, if you feel so inclined. Much love.

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Hooper @ 27 Months

by Ashley filed under Hooper
Growth & Appearance: Two more molars are making their way through. They didn’t seem to bother you much except for the fact you woke up with diarrhea that resulted in the worst diaper rash I’ve ever seen. You woke up crying in obvious pain and I found you on your bed on all fours. I cried too. It was so hard to see you in so much discomfort. I know, I’m such a sucker. When I removed your diaper, it looked as though you had laid under the sun, in the Sahara desert, with your legs spread wide open. The upside of it all was that it resulted in extra cuddles and it cleared significantly after a day or so of treatment. Those damn teeth…
You’re still in size 4 diaper/ size 2T undies, size 2-3T in everything else, and size 7 shoes. You have some great size 8 kicks waiting for you, so I’m eager for your feet to grow.
Eating: Note to self: If you go a full day with refusing to eat, assume you aren’t feeling well. It’s happened a few times now and your Papa and I go to bed so fed up and frustrated only to discover in the morning that you’re not feeling well or have teeth coming in. I feel like I say it every month, but I really do need to trust you to eat when you’re hungry and not eat when you’re not hungry. Note to self: my job is to provide you with healthy choices. Note to you: your job is to eat it. Capiche?
If we let you eat whatever you want whenever you want, you’d already be diabetic. You’re just like your Mama in that you like cupcakes, cookies, and all things breaded. I made you a belgium waffle the other morning and put some whip cream on it as an added treat. You proceeded to lick the whip cream off of each bite. I think you’re the only kid in town that would discard a waffle. I tried to get you to eat pancakes for the longest time and, now that you discovered it has the word “cake” in it, you like them. 
Talking: When we ask you what show you want to watch, you reply, “Cat-uh-hat”, but are unable to answer questions like “what’s your favorite color” or “what would you like to eat”. I suspect that’s just around the corner and I’ll have the video ready to record some of our what’s-sure-to-be captivating conversations.
You still use “hi” on a regular basis and it remains your go-to in uncomfortable situations or situations where you’re trying to accomplish something you know you shouldn’t. Like the other day, for instance, Papa left a chocolate chip cookie on his nightstand from the night before. You wiggled your way over to the nightstand and kept saying “hi” as you inched closer and closer. Then, when you got within reach, you glanced at the cookie then back at us and said “hi”. You sure know how to land a cookie into your mouth. Your cuteability is heart stopping.
You’ve started replying with “okay”, which has been entertaining.
You pronounce all your “S’s” as “F’s” so “sleeping” is “feeping” and “sock” is “fock”. Papa still makes you repeat “sock” a lot.
Things you say that we did not teach you that don’t make sense to anyone other than us. AKA, “Hooper Language”:
Blanket: Da-dgee
Motorcycle: Da!
Thank You: Deep
Fork: Bem-mee
Development: You love your balance bike, which you refer to as your “new bike”. This is because it came to us as a hand-me-down (thanks Kris) and I kept asking you what you thought of your “new bike”. Now, I’m pretty sure you think it is called “new bike” as opposed to just “bike”. Either way, you love to ride it around and have taken a few spills that don’t bother you much. The other day, you insisted in putting your bike in your wagon and then proceeded to pull your wagon around. Needless to say, you’re still entertained with putting things into other things and organizing different piles of things. On any given day and at any given time, our sofa is still covered with your cars neatly placed in separate piles or lines.
Potty training seemingly started slow but looking back in hindsight, it was rather easy. You haven’t had an accident for some time, but we haven’t ventured out in to public with just chonies just yet. You use your potty with ease when you’re home and naked. You refused to wear your chonies initially; apparently big boy batman undies mean nothing to a Cat in the Hat fan. Now I’ve gotten you to wear your chonies and for the most part you’ve transistioned well. You’ll grab your dong and announce, “pee pee”, signaling that it’s time to take you to the potty. You aren’t able to pull your own pants down yet, so you ask for help with this. It was relatively easy to get to this point, but we still have quite a few challenges: wearing chonies in public, using public restrooms, using an on-the-go potty, and wearing chonies for naps and at night. We’ll get there my young lad, we’ll get there.
You have a gentle and tentative nature. You enjoy jumping off surfaces, for example, but often need prompting to do it on your own. I’m probably the only mom in town encouraging her toddler to jump off the furniture by themselves. Don’t tell Papa.
You like to emulate your Papa by going around the house with your toy computer and toy phone and say, “Papa werking”. You’ll set up your little area complete with a pen and paper, phone, and computer. Oh my young little lad, have fun while you can. You can work later.
You counted to six clear as day the other day. Your Papa and I both looked at each other in disbelief, unsure of who taught you that… Until we realized all the time outs you’ve earned have actually taught you something; You may still spit and hit, but you’ve learned to count. I suppose you have to take the good with the bad.
We left you both with a babysitter for the first time this month. Your grandma and grandpa had watched you before but your Papa and I decided it was time to squeeze in more Papa & Mama time. You love your babysitter and had no problem with us leaving (you know her from your gym class).
For the most part, you do a good job of entertaining yourself. Once you get going, you can play with your cars on your own for an hour or more. You like lining them up and organizing them into different areas, but what’s new?
Favorites: Your cars make the cut each and every time, it seems. You also love your “new bike” (aka your balance bike) and pretty much anything else with wheels that goes. You also like Dr. Seuss books and the Cat in the Hat cartoon. We’ve started making forts, which you love. Currently our forts consist of lying on your bed with your big blanket over us like a tent; you have no idea what kind of forts are sure to be in your future. Just wait until you see what a cardboard box can do!

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Two.

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting
Hooper has changed overnight. Like seriously, he’s a new kid. I started writing a post on the “terrible twos” just two days ago and it’s already outdated as I described him from being far from “terrible”. Today, he’s all kinds of terrible. I feel as though the toddler gods fill you up with all kinds of love and attachment and patience during the first two years because they know you’ll need to pull some from your reserves when your child turns two and you don’t like them anymore. I called Hooper an asshole today. Not to his face, of course, but more times than I should have behind his back.
What kind of behavior warrants calling your two year old an asshole, you wonder? I’ve been smacked in the face. A lot. It almost always occurs when I’m holding him and looking for a little affection; Affection he used to give me all the time. It also happens when I drop down to his level to put him in check. There’s nothing more infuriating than scolding your child only to get smacked in the face as if to say, “Yeah mom, I heard what you said but please allow my hand across your face to remind you that I don’t give a shit”. I’ve had to take a lot of deep breaths these last few days.
Other things he’s doing that are pissing me off and making me turn to wine at the end of the day even though I feel like turning to a whole bottle of wine to start my day (and yes, that is intentionally a run-on sentence): Throwing toys, spitting, spitting out his milk, taking toys from his brother, hitting Sarah, and kicking me while changing his diaper. He has also started to fold his arms across his chest as if to say, “Go suck a dick, I’m not happy”, only he still uses this body language at inappropriate times so I guess it’s still endearing; but the endearing part is still debatable.
Much of parenting is a learn-as-you-go process. We had been punishing him by putting him in the corner and calmly explaining that we can’t hit or throw or whatever. Then we’d count to ten and end the time out with a hug, after making him say “sorry”. I no longer have the patience to calmly scold; now I put him in the corner and yell, for emphasis ya know? But clearly, it’s not working. Counting to ten has done nothing other than teach him how to count. Seriously, he counted clear as day to six yesterday. That’s probably when his attention span runs out, otherwise he’d know that seven ate nine. So, I turn to my lovely readers for the touchy subject of how to discipline your lovely toddler. Please share your opinions and suggestions.
Hey Hooper, just for the record, Van is my new favorite. Shape up, you little asshole.

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Round Two.

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Parenting

Things I’ve said a lot of this week: “Sarah, stop licking Hooper’s butt” and “Hooper, stop touching your dong”. Here’s the recap:
Day #1
We started the day by collecting his diapers and throwing them into the trash. Hoop enjoyed this. Then we spent the morning watching cartoons while he sat on his potty. I fed him breakfast, on his potty. At some point, probably after an hour of sitting there, he stood up and pointed to the potty. Inside, there was urine. We celebrated. We high-fived. He got a piece of candy. We called Papa at work. Then he played. I reminded him of the potty and told him if he wanted more candy, he had to make piss in the potty. Then the fly by happened.
What’s the fly by, you ask? He literally flew by the potty, stuck his butt in it’s direction, and shot (and I mean shot as in like a bullet from a gun) a large size piece of shit out of his butt. The log struck the side of the toilet and streaked it’s way down to the floor. I told him to step away as I could tell he wanted to sit on the potty. He ran off in excitement and pissed in the corner. He may have pissed in the potty had I not shooed him away.
Nonetheless, there were hits and there were misses. It was day one. There was cheers and candy and there was paper towels and vinegar. All in all, a success. A start. 
Day #2
I had intended to sacrifice three full days to only potty training. But, alas, life happens and staying home for three days straight doesn’t always work out. I had a commitment to keep, so on went the diaper so my mom could take Hoop to his little class and I could go fulfill my obligation. After his morning nap, potty training reconvened. He sat on the potty long enough to eventually pee in it and we jumped for excitement once again. I gave him a piece of candy and on he went to play with his cars.
I reminded him of the potty often and used candy as encouragement. At one point he went over on his own and sat on the toilet, stood up a minute later and yelled, “yeah guys!”. I looked in the pot and there was nothing there. As he scampered away, however, I noticed some shit stuck between his cheeks. Then he straddled his bike and got shit on his bike. Then he poked the shit on his bike seat with his finger. So… not exactly a slam dunk, but definite progress. The realization that I will eventually have to teach him to wipe his butt dawned on me and the idea of keeping him in diapers fo’ life started to become more dreamy than ever.
Then he peed on the sofa. And later, again, on the floor. And that was day two.
Day #3
We spent the morning watching cartoons while sitting on the potty. I’m getting cartooned out, by the way. I hate relying on that thing, but it has been a good facilitator for potty training. I also googled “How to potty train” for the first time and can’t say I learned anything I didn’t instinctively already know. Anyway, I fed him breakfast while he sat on the potty. He got up a few times to play and would sporadically come back to the potty to sit down on his own. At one point, you could hear piss shooting into the pot and we both looked at each other with wild excitement. There wasn’t a whole lot of pee and I came to the conclusion that the excitement of it all must have stopped him mid-stride. We celebrated. He immediately said, “Can-dee, can-dee”. He’s part human, part Pavlov’s dog. Even more than the candy, I learned, he likes helping me clean up; dumping the piss into the toilet, spraying the potty with vinegar (101 uses for vinegar, right?), and flushing the toilet. I also gave him a sticker (thanks @lishyloo) and not but 5 minutes later he sat down and peed again, presumably finishing his job prior. Either that or he’s getting too smart and has learned to segment his piss to get more treats. Two year olds sure have a way of pulling the fast ones on us, don’t they? In any case, we celebrated again and cleaned up again.
Day #4 and onward
I’ll spare you the day by day shenanigans because while some seem to say “it took 3 days and that was that”, I can tell that won’t be the case for us. For starters, he naps a lot. I’m talking like he still takes a FOUR hour nap during the day and sometimes another two hour nap in the evening. I know, I know, he sleeps a lot. And, no, he does not have chronic fatigue syndrome. I laughed when someone had suggested that. I digress, but the naps make it difficult to potty train if I’m constantly slapping a diaper on for him to sleep in. Sometimes he only pisses one time before he’s ready to sleep again. So I only get so many opportunities in a day to potty train. And I’m not comfortable, yet, to leave the house without a diaper on. Wow, I just re-read that sentence and now it sounds like I’m the incontinent one. Let me re-phrase that: I’m not comfortable, yet, to leave the house without a diaper on Hooper. Whew, I feel better now that I made that correction. So, I don’t know. That’s where we’re at. I suppose I’ll keep going with the naked thing for the time that we’re home and awake and then, when he has a better grasp on that concept, I’ll start swapping out the diaper with the undies. What do ya’ll think? Is that a good plan? I will say, however, that by day 5 he was 4 for 4 and has not had an accident since. So, perhaps we are getting somewhere. Now we just need to work on clothing him once again and encouraging him to communicate that he’s gotta go… Round three will be coming your way.
You can read about round one here.

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Hooper @ 26 Months

by Ashley filed under Hooper
Growth & Appearance: You got your third ever hair cut this month. You look like a young man. Your Papa misses your long hair. I, however, don’t miss brushing out the dread lock that forms in the back from bed head. We’ll probably let it grow out again until it’s too annoying to manage and then we’ll cut it again. Your hair seems to be coming in a little darker and I’m curious if this will stay or if it will turn blond again during the summer. Either way, it’s still blond on top.
Eating: I worry less about your eating these days. People keep telling me kids don’t die of starvation and I’m starting to believe them. You will eat what you will eat and that’s that. Even with this new found peace there are annoying evenings where the table is still a battlefield. I think your Papa has a harder time letting go of the control than I do. I fear turning eating into a battle for independence and this has fueled my “let it be” campaign. Go eat shit, for all I care. I kid. I give you healthy choices and if you don’t eat what I make, better luck with the next meal. I’m trying my best to keep to this notion, anyhow.
We’ve started allowing you to eat in the big boy chair so that we can put your brother in the high chair. Not that Van eats anything, but it’s nice to have him at the table with us anyway. You can drink from a cup but tend to knock it over at some point during your meal by accident so more times than not we give you a sippy cup or bottle to make life easier on us. You like to eat with a fork. Scratch that. You like the idea of eating with a fork, which by the way you call a “bee-me”. Instead of using it, you usually hold it in one hand while you feed yourself with the other. Either way, as soon as we sit down for a meal you demand your “bee-me” (fork).
You’re going through a phase where you think it’s entertaining to spit your foot out. We were at a restaurant when you unloaded a mouthfull of food to the side of your highchair. It was so random that your Papa and I made the mistake of laughing. As you went to do it again, we realized instantly we made a big mistake. You’ve done it a few times since but each time has landed you in the corner. The battle at the table continues. I suppose it’s our first lesson as parents that we can’t laugh at ridiculous behavior. Please know we aren’t bumps on a log. We do find things funny, only we giggle about it all later. 
Sleeping: I had another mom ask me if you had “chronic fatigue syndrome” after I told her how much you sleep. You are hardly the low energy kinda kid that label makes you out to be. You do, however, sleep a lot. You go down for the night around 9:30pm and sleep until 8:30 or 9 am. Then you nap from 11ish to 2ish and again from 5:30pm to 7:30pm. That’s a total of about 16 hours of sleep in a 24 hour period. The other eight hours of the day are spent trying to feed you. Needless to say, with your nap schedule and eating nightmare, it’s difficult to plan any extended outing.
We’ve finally added a blanket to your bed. Breaking news, right? We hesitated for a long time, worried you’d get stuck under the blanket or some other ridiculous catastrophe would occur. We’ve gotten over our stupid fears and, as a result, you’re warmer at night. You’re welcome. You refer to your trusty blanket as your “da-dee” and the blanket on your bed as your “big da-dee”. You now require both of them to sleep at night.
Talking: You pronounce “soccor” as “f&*#er”, so needless to say, your Papa makes you repeat it over and over. You also pronounce “sock” as “f#&k” so your Papa has you repeat this over and over too. It’s how we entertain ourselves on Friday nights these days. Don’t judge. You also like to add “uh” on the end of lots of different words. For example, you told your arms up toward me and say “hold-uh” when you want me to hold you or “boo-kah” when you want me to read you a book.
You’re either very polite or you think the word for “help” is “help please” because whenever you want help with anything you say, “hell-peez”. It’s very endearing and I like to fool myself into thinking I am raising a very polite little man. In reality, I’m pretty sure you think it’s one word that, when said, leads to getting something  you want.
You have begun answering some questions. When we asked you a question before, you used to simply repeat the most emphasized word in the question. Now, the wheels spin and out pops an appropriate answer. It’s the beginning of the voice of your imagination and I can’t wait to get to know it better.
You have a lisp when you say your S’s. It’s cute now but it won’t be cute later. Speech therapy may be in your future. 
Development: You still appear to be left footed. When you romp around in circles, you lead with your left food. And when you mount a bike you lift your right leg over, bearing your weight on your left leg. You still write predominantly with your left hand but feed yourself with your right.
A new molar came in. Not sure how that little rascal snuck in under our radar but it may explain the prior runny nose and two day span where it seemed like you didn’t want to eat anything. Then again, those fussy eating days happen more times than not. There was also that day where you slept until I woke you up at 1pm. If every tooth comes with that kinda mama time, I hope you get teeth all the way down your throat. That’s a weird image. Okay, I digress. 
Favorites: You’re more into reading books than ever before and like reading them again and again. You’re still a big fan of your cars, which are always lined up across the sofa making sitting on the thing virtually impossible. Sarah has taken to napping on our bed now that the sofa is preoccupied. You also got a balance bike as a hand-me-down from a friend and like to walk the thing all around the house, letting everyone know about your “new bike”. The Cat in the Hat is your new favorite cartoon, compliments of potty training. That damn TV always seems to be a tool for something; if it’s not eating, it’s potty training. One day we’ll leave it off for good. Hopefully soon.

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