in which Patrick is awesome

 

Patrick: I don't want to go to high school.

Me: Okay, how about pre-k?

Patrick: No, I want to stay home with you forever.

Me: Forever? How will you meet girls?

Patrick: I'll go to Zumba with you. ... But be sure to bring some money. Because there are snack machines there, and dancing makes me hungry.

 

***

 

He brought me a daffodil yesterday because he thought it was "beautiful."

 

1/2

Audrey turned six months old on her first Christmas. She has mastered rolling over and scooting and is pretty good at sitting up. She has two teeth and has tried peaches (yes), green beans (yes) and bananas (no). 

Audrey is a Mover. She does. not. stop. Even while she is eating, she is rolling over, trying to stand up, generally not being still. She wants to go. She doesn't seem to have much interest in crawling right now (she will get up on all fours and lunge occasionally) -- because she wants to walk. She will hold your fingers and walk around the room. In fact, you had better walk her around the room, or else she will cry.

Audrey is a Talker. I'm being nice. I almost typed Crier. Oh. Oops. She has developed a high pitched squeal (I'm not a fan) and also uses a lower pitched growling (I still don't know if this is actually bad or just indifferent). When she is happy, she smiles a lot, but it takes a lot to make her actually laugh. Although she does this funny grunting 'Ha Ha Ha' thing and also occasionally barks/coughs and I think it is approximating laughter.

Audrey is NOT a Sleeper. She refuses to nap unless you are holding her. By 'you' I actually mean 'one of her parents.' She is not a fan of self-soothing.  

Audrey started crying as I was typing that last sentence. Three or four days ago. Ha. So I guess I better post this before next year and write more later. 

eleventeen

This is how Patrick counts to 20:

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, eleventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

Every time.

Also, this morning, he asked me if he could call me Farty. So thanks for that, Billy Crystal. 

Four. FOUR!

Patrick turned four. The world didn't end. Yay!

At four, Patrick is ... well, he's Patrick. He says constructions instead of instructions and Optimus Prize instead of Optimus Prime. He still calls Two Face "Toothpaste."

Patrick does not like to do things. He is a homebody and is very good at entertaining himself. (I still worry that we are making him be TOO good at this by not forcing him to go to preschool while we deal with his high needs sister BUT since he just turned 4 he still has a year and a half before kindergarten so ... there's time.) It was in the 60s here the other day and I made him go outside and play with the neighbor kids. Once outside, he had a blast, at least until he decided he wanted his friend to come inside and play. I wanted him to be outside but I wouldn't have minded them coming inside; however, this kid's parents do not like him going inside when it's outside time.

"But I want to give him some of my juice," said Patrick.

"You can go get him one [Capri Sun]," I said.

"I'll go get us special juice," said the neighbor kid, and he disappeared inside. 

We waited. And waited. And my heart started to break a little because Patrick just wanted to share his juice and play with his friend, who did not seem to be coming back.I tried to distract Patrick. But he didn't want to walk. Or ride his lawn mower. He wanted to wait for his friend who had gone to get special juice. Eventually the kid came back out, no juice, only to be called back inside by his dad. AT LEAST Patrick did not feel betrayed since he came back, but there were tears. And not just from me. (Heh?)  

Anyway. At 4, Patrick loves cartoons and 'the Woody game' (Toy Story 3). His love affair with Thomas the Tank Engine is out of control. I just asked him what I should say about him on the computer. He said, "I like new houses." He is trying to convince me not to throw his gum away right now. The gum that fell out of his mouth when we were running the bases at the park this afternoon. It was covered in dirt but he insisted that we save it. I think he likes his sister, as long as she is well cared for and doesn't interfere with his life. He is probably in for a rude awakening, yes, but he does share his toys with her. The problem (for him, as she gets older) is that he shares the toys he doesn't want. We (by which I mean James) successfully navigated Patrick's first trip to the dentist. He was so afraid beforehand that he got into bed and cried himself to sleep (and I saw myself in almost-4-year-old boy form) but then once he got there he was fine. This does not bode well for his emotional status as it is just like me. He currently sleeps in a tent in the crib in the nursery, while Audrey gets the bed. He says it's too scary in his room. He likes to watch cartoons ('the trains that talk by themselves') on the iPad before he falls asleep. He tells you he can't pick up his toys because he'll get too tired. He has too many toys. We love him.  

Bullet Train

• So, there are several things we can take from NaBlogPoMo:
  • I should not participate. I completed a post every day but since then I have been actively avoiding my blog because I cannot bear to post.
  • I need a break from the children by 10pm. I looked back over my entries and in probably at least a third I am talking about how Audrey is high maintenance. She IS, but usually that doesn't bother me until late at night. I mean, I don't spend every day bitching about it. Except when I write late at night...
• We went to try to visit Santa again today. Patrick was excited. He talked it up. "Santa is at the town hall? I am going to tell him what I want. I have to think about it. Town hall, you said?" We got to the town hall. Well, back up. First I had to threaten him with getting a babysitter and taking Audrey to get him in the car. (Remember how I mentioned getting the stink blowed off? Patrick SERIOUSLY NEEDS THIS.) So we got to the town hall. He was still excited. We walked in the door. There was a very nice Christmas tree. Sitting on one side was Santa. Patrick cowered behind me. Santa seemed very friendly, however in Patrick's defense, Santa also seemed to be about 90 years old and I wondered if he was going to make it to Christmas. He also randomly had a half-inch-long thumbnail which was CREEPY. Anyway, Santa tried to get Patrick to talk to him. Patrick hid under my jacket. I asked Patrick to let go so I could get Audrey. He did not. The lady taking the picture asked Patrick if he would take a picture on the other side of the Christmas tree, opposite Santa. Patrick refused. The nice guy who was minding Santa said we could go get some cookies and milk and watch Frosty the Snowman and then maybe Patrick would want to talk to Santa. Patrick DID manage to tell Santa he wanted the remote control Molly and the wooden Cranky the Crane. Santa misunderstood and thought Patrick was telling him he was getting cranky. (Ha.) We went to go get cookies. Patrick cowered at the door. Eventually he cracked a smile at Frosty and chose a gingerbread house frame to take home. He wanted nothing to do with sitting down, having cookies and milk, or watching Frosty. He did say he would like some cookies to take home. Finally I gave up. As we were walking out, Santa had gotten up and was looking at the pictures on the walls. Patrick, who had been on one side of me closer to Santa, immediately crossed behind me to cower again. Oh well. Maybe next year.
• Dude, speaking of Santa, Christmas gifts are EXPENSIVE. Those toy manufacturers, they know their shit. Anyway, I have been saving for two months to buy Patrick the stuff he wants. I was all excited because I finally had it all. THEN he asked for Cranky. But before that, I sat down to wrap it. There are five gifts. FIVE. And one of those is for his birthday. How did this happen? How? Thomas the Tank Engine, that's how.
• I think I had more to say but apparently I can't even sustain a bullet point post.

Patrick's Story
Once upon a time there was a lttle boy who was blowing bubbles with his mommy and daddy. And his baby sister Audrey. Then a tiger came and jumped out at them. And tried to bite them. So the daddy went after him and tried to get him. But he bit him. The end.

Santa Train

We rode the Santa Train today. It's at the Museum of Life and Science in Durham. I guess this year is the 35th year they've done it. It's a cute idea; we liked it a lot last year. This year ... something was lacking. I'm not quite sure what it was. But it was like ... rush to get to train. Wait because they're running late. Stand in line. Hustle to get on. GO! There's Santa. Hey Santa. Bye Santa. Look for Rudolf. (I always want to spell it Rudolph but they had it with the F.) Mrs. Claus handed out coloring books but we were at the back of the train and by the time she got to us the train was pulling out. SAFETY VIOLATION.

Anyway. Patrick told THIS Santa that he wanted [Thomas the Tank Engines] Molly and "the red Victor," and these are actually much cheaper than what he told the mall Santa he wanted. Then he said to my mom, "I just didn't like the Santa at the mall but I liked this Santa."

p.s. I AM SO DONE WITH THIS EVERYDAY BLOGGING.

the wall, i have hit it
I actively do not want to blog right now. To spite NaBloPoMo. Is this common? Do people have a love-hate relationship with it? I feel like just the other day I was talking about how nice it was to write every day. Night, whatever. Anyway. Patrick said something cute today but I forgot what it was. Audrey took a 90 minute nap by herself. I still had to nurse her to sleep but I am going to call it progress.

I sincerely hate writing these on my Nook.

My Grandpa Jack always used to tell me to go outside 'and get the stink blowed off ya.' It has taken two children and staying home with them but I finally get it.

suck it, ferber

[The first part of the entry was eaten by my Nook. I am going to try to retrieve it somehow but post this now in the interest of NaBloPoMo. I fear I may be missing the point but ... now is not the time to worry about that.]

So now I have a dilemma. I get decent sleep. Audrey gets decent sleep, at night anyway. BUT. Audrey will not nap during the day. And, you know, much as I love my kiddos, I do not wish to sleep with them indefinitely. Enter: sleep training. I bought a couple of sleep training books for Patrick, early on, since I knew I was going back to work and we had to have something in place by the time he was 3 months old. 

The no-cry sleep solution basically didn't work. The other one I tried, I don't even remember the name of. It didn't work either. I shrugged, gave up, and Patrick just figured it out on his own.

This does not appear to be happening.

I don't really have a problem with crying it out, in theory. I am fairly immune to baby screams. It does not tear at my heartstrings. (I mean, it does if they are 'OMG WHY HAVE YOU JUST STUCK MY MEATY THIGHS WITH NEEDLES' cries. But if you're fed, dry, warm, etc. ... just go to sleep already, mm-kay?

However. I do get worried after a while of escalating screams. Audrey starts to do that gasping thing and I know I have to wait it out and it will get better and ... I can't do it. The longest she has gone was 47 minutes. Of screaming. I go in every 5ish minutes to comfort without picking up. She's not having it. I finally gave up on that one and nursed her to sleep. Then she slept for 16 whole minutes. Did I mention that on here?

Anyway, today I was on a mission. We were going to cry it out at naptime. We were going to succeed, and then do it at bedtime. Well, naptime was actually moderately successful. 12 minutes and she was out. And slept for 40 minutes. Bedtime. Yeah, not so much.

To be continued. I guess. 

Cyber Monday B!tching

I liked King Arthur Flour on Facebook. I don't normally buy their flour as it's out of my price range but I was looking at some of their mixes and such as Christmas gift ideas. Also, I am looking ahead to Patrick's birthday party; we may have a gluten-free attendee, and their GF cake mixes earn rave reviews.

Anyway. They were offering a deal for "ABSOLUTELY FREE SHIPPING -- with a $60 minimum order." The comments were priceless. Full disclosure: I do think it's a bit of, oh let's call it a stretch, to advertise ABSOLUTELY FREE SHIPPING if you have to spend $60. That's because I'm spoiled by Amazon and it's free shipping with a $25 minimum, I guess.  

Comment Type #1: It's not free if you have to spend 60! Bah humbug!

Comment Type #2: KAF IS AWESOME!!! You all are just haterzzzzzz!!!1!!

Comment Type #3: Actually, it IS free shipping. You are paying $60 for flour. Then nothing for shipping.

Comment Type #4: I don't see how I could possibly ever spend $60 on flour in my lifetime.

And ... that was it for me. You have liked a FLOUR on your Facebook, a flour that retails for $4.95ish ... and you don't think you can use 12 bags IN YOUR LIFETIME? Either you don't cook, ever, or you expect to have a very short life. I am sorry for you. Someone then reasonably pointed out that they sell OTHER THINGS on their website so you don't have to spend $60 on flour, like OMG.

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Okay. I thought this was amusing. I don't think it sounds nearly as amusing now that I have typed it. But that's 27 days down BITCHEZZZZZZZZ.