Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Fork drops

This is probably a case of funnier if you were there, but since this blog is just as much for me to remember as it is for me to tell other people, you'll just have to suffer through.  Happened over the hurricane weekend.

Scene:  eating dinner - pork chops, salad, watermelon.

Z - Have chicken?
Me - It's not chicken, son.  It's pork.  Mommy made pork chops for dinner.
Z - Fowk chops?
Me - That's right, pork chops.
Z - (points at fork) Fowk, (points at pork) fowk chops.
Me - Pork, buddy, with a P.  Pork chops.
Z - Fowk chops.
Me - Okay, what you said.

Next day:  eating lunch - fruit, crackers, the carrots from my chicken pot pie.
Z - Have a fowk?
Me - We don't have any more forks.  You dropped all the forks, now all the forks are dirty.
Z - Fowks dropped?
Me - Yes, the forks dropped on the floor.
Z - Have fowk drops for lunch?  Pwease?

(I hear I said, probably funnier if you were there...)

Sleep, beautiful sleep

Now that N is six months old, we've had to start thinking about sleep training.  He's not a BAD sleeper, per se, just...irregular.  Doesn't keep to a schedule.  So, since baths are now part of our must-do evening ritual, it seemed like a good time to institute a bedtime routine and move into establishing a sleep schedule.  Last night went pretty well, bed at 8, woke up a couple times but got back to sleep, woke up for a feeding at 11:30 then slept until 9:00!  If it weren't for how difficult it was to get him back to sleep after that feeding I'd call that a win.  Tonight he was in bed by quarter to 8, but woke up after about 45 minutes.  Let me tell you, that boy has LUNGS.  Didn't even need the monitor to hear him all the way at the other end of the house!  We let him cry, heart-wrenching though it was, and he got himself calmed down and back to sleep.  I neglected to check the clock so I'm not sure how long it actually was, but definitely less than 20 minutes.  Here's hoping tonight isn't too hard...

Doctored up

The baby, N, is a healthy little cherub.  Big fat cheeks, several chins, spare tires on the thighs, et cetera et cetera.  Never been sick a day in his admittedly short life.  So when he started getting little red spots all over, we didn't worry too terribly much.  Well, over the weekend we discovered that we're horrible parents for not noticing that he had a red rash allllllllll over his back.  Really bad looking.  After emailing the pediatrician some pictures and getting no definite "it's nothing!" feeling, he recommended we bring him in for a look-see.  And joy of joys, the diagnosis is eczema!  And not even the standard, run of the mill ezcema!  "Nummular" eczema is the disorder of choice, though the doc is not 100% on this diagnosis due to some irregular symptoms.  So for now we get to do twice! daily! baths followed by petroleum jelly.  Fun stuff!

Also:  this child is nineteen pounds at 6 months.  Nineteen.  Z was only TWELVE pounds at this age.  N also has three whole inches on him, 27 to his 24.  I think they'll be wearing the same size clothes by the time Z is five...

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I'll huff and I'll puff...

and I'll blow your internet down!

Thanks to hurricane Irene, 17 thousand things have happened in the last 74 hours that have gone undocumented on this blog.  I swear, if I'd had internet access it would have been the most boring weekend EVER.  But while we never lost power (thank goodness, says my freezer full of irreplaceable breastmilk!) we did lose cable and thus, internet as well.  So brace yourselves for an onslaught of catch-up posts, as I rack my brain to try and remember the good times that were had by all...

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Mommy help you?

My best friend has a little girl about 6 months younger than my toddler.  While my boy Z has definitely trended towards physical accomplishments (running, jumping, climbing, giving his mother a heart attack on a daily basis), she zeroed in on linguistics.  That child was making sentences at 18 months old, I tell you!  And here's Z, almost 3, not worrying too much about making himself understood by words.  After all, pointing and screaming work so well!  In any case, it's safe to say that her language skills are much advanced.  One thing she's been doing for a couple months now, is saying "you" when what she means is "I."  So instead of saying "I need a hug!" she says "You need a hug!" which I have to say is quite entertaining.  It's taken some getting used to on my part, translating her pronouns!  But since Z doesn't really use sentences it wasn't something I'd heard here at home.  Every so often I think, that MIGHT have been him doing it...but maybe not.  Well, ladies and gentlemen, he has broken the pronoun barrier!  Yesterday he came to me with a clear need for me to do something for him and said, "Mommy help you?"  Ah, be still my beating heart!  Seems like such a silly thing to get excited over, but by golly I am!  My little boy is growing up!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Mount Everest, here we come!

The toddler, currently 2.75 years of age, just recently discovered the joys of climbing.  Up until now, we've been able to keep him in his crib by taking out the spring platform and placing the mattress directly on the floor.  Alas, those halcyon days of containment are at an end.  In the space of a week he has:  climbed out of his crib (in the dark, wearing footed pj's, our last available obstacles), used the crib to climb up onto his dresser, used the bottom drawer of the dresser to climb to the top (us having moved the crib after the earlier achievement), climbed over the gate between the living room and kitchen, and used one of the drawers in MY dresser to climb up and change our clock settings.  He also makes quick work of climbing into his baby brother's crib.  Needless to say, we're somewhat less than thrilled to have him roaming freely about the house at all hours of the day.  Luckily he seems content to go to bed when we put him there, so it's only in the mornings that we have to keep a sharp ear out for his escape.  Now if only there were more baby-proofing things in this house capable of stopping him...

I think I can, I think I can

I'm going to be super optimistic here.  This blog is intended to chronicle the many cute/funny/aggravating/life-threatening things that happen here at Casa Ellerman.  A toddler, an infant, two cats and a husband make for an interesting time - let's see if it leaves me opportunity to post about it!