More Shameless Bragalating

Not only do I live with a crawler and a 100-piece-puzzle-putter-together, but as of today I live with the recipient of the Howard Newell Innovative Teaching Award.

It appears that I'm the only person around here that hasn't done something impressive lately.

I'll have to look in to that.

It's My Bloggy and I'll Brag if I Want To

Today Joshua finished a 100-piece (Ages 5-10 years) puzzle all by himself. Start to finish, it was all Joshua, all the time.
And then there's Clare. She's big. At her nine-month appointment she weight 22.5 pounds, she was 29.25 inches long, and her head was 18.7 inches around. She's off the chart in every category. Even the cute category, but they don't measure that at the doctor's office.

Healthy Communication, the Joshua Way

Joshua's pediatrician was right. He really did jump from using single words to full sentences almost as soon as Clare was born. The funny thing was that most of his sentences were phrased as questions. It makes sense, I suppose, since he primarily heard us asking questions of him:

"Did you fall down?"
"Do you want some more to eat?"
"Did you go to the store with Vati today?"
"Did you have a good time?"

He wasn't asking us to answer those questions, of course. Instead he wanted us to ask them of him. "Did you have a good time?" was simply Joshua's way of saying, "You should ask me if I had a good time!"

Although he is much easier to understand now, he still phrases many of his sentences as questions (he'd make a great Jeopardy contestant). We called my grandmother the other day after we had gotten home from Target. He wanted to talk to her, and when I gave him the phone he asked, "Did you buy a crock pot?" I had to explain to my grandmother that the purpose of our Target run was to replace the crock pot that I had broken the day before. "Did you buy a crock pot?" was Joshua-speak for "You should ask me if I just bought a crock pot!"

The more I've thought about it, the more I'm convinced that Joshua's method of communication is pretty healthy, particularly among those of who tend toward passive-aggression. Instead of moping around the house after an especially harrowing day, waiting for Jay to ask what's wrong, I could simply greet him at the door with, "Did you have a crappy day?" Then Jay would know right away to ask, "Hi Mary Beth! Did you have a crappy day?" It sounds like I'm showing concern for him, which is good for this people-pleaser. But it's really a way to get him to ask about me.

And instead of slamming doors and rolling my eyes, waiting for Jay to ask me what's wrong, I can just walk right up to him and say, "Are you really, unbelievably, mind-blowingly angry with me?" And Jay would know right away that the appropriate question to ask is, "Are you really, unbelievably, mind-blowingly angry with me?"

I think I may be exposing too much personal pathology here, but I just wanted to share my ground breaking insight, courtesy of my 2 1/2-year-old son.

Overheard

Clare was napping in her bed. I was resting on our bed. Jay was in the shower and Joshua was standing outside the shower, patiently waiting for Vati to emerge. Once Vati dried off, Joshua was full of questions:

"Are you going to shave?"

"No, but I thought I might brush my teeth."

"Do you got a bottom and a penis?"

"Yes I do."

"What do you do with your penis?"

*Chirp* *Chirp*

"Well sometimes I put underwear over the top of it. What do you do with your penis?"

"Sometimes I put a diaper over the top of it. Do you pee pee in the potty with your penis?"

"Yes, I do that, too."

Meanwhile I was pee peeing in my pants.

Need New Babies. Mine Keep Growing Up

Clare's first tooth finally broke through this morning. She's seriously considering crawling, although she still finds rolling much more effective. (That's an 18-month dress on my 8.5-month-old daughter, by the way.)

And Joshua--geez whiz, Joshua. He informed me the other day that the batteries were dead in one of his toys, so I showed him how to use Vati's screwdriver to open to battery cover. We took out the batteries and replaced the cover. I promised him he could put the new batteries in after we bought them. Fast forward a few minutes when he asked for the screwdriver again. I gave it to him and went to clean up the kitchen. When I peaked in on him five minutes later he had taken the cover off of another toy, removed the dead batteries, and was in the process of putting the cover back on. When we bought new batteries later that day, he repeated the process again on the first toy, asking for help only to get the screw going in the right direction as he replaced the cover. He even got the polarities correct when he put the batteries in.

Sure, it makes life easier for me. But now all of the battery-operated toys work again and I have a headache.

A Special Day

"O God, it is our prayer that Clare will come to know the joy and suffering of being concerned about everyone she meets; that she will see each person worthy of dignity and acceptance. We hope for her a growth into fuller and deeper levels of humanity as expressed through Jesus.

"We pray that Clare will live in a world where justice is increased and where violence is decreased as a way to settle differences.

"Our hope is that Clare will understand that You alone can give life meaning and purpose and direction, O God; and that she will be on her knees before You with words of thanksgiving; and on her feet for You with deeds of love. This is our prayer. Amen."

--From the Service of Infant Baptism at Broadway United Methodist Church

Twins and Basketball

If you followed the NCAA women's basketball tournament, GO VOLS you know that Brenda Frese, head coach of the Maryland Terrapins, recently gave birth to twin boys. Her high-risk pregnancy limited her ability to travel with the team to away games, but that didn't seem to affect the players too much. They entered the tournament as a 1-seed and made it all the way to the Elite Eight where they met Stanford, a 2-seed.

And although it made me a little sad that Frese wasn't home with her 5 1/2 week-old boys during that game, I thought it was pretty rockin' that she showed up to coach. She sported her "of-course-I-still-have-to-wear-this" maternity shirt under a black blazer and looked undeniably cute-yet-badass, all at the same time.

The highlight of the game for this mom of two, though, was when Frese was slapped with a technical for arguing with a referee. Jay and I laughed out loud. That poor woman has 6-week-old twins at home, out-of-control hormones coursing through her body at top speed, and probably hasn't had a full night of sleep in the last six months (although I'm sure Maryland is paying a pretty penny to make sure she has all the help she needs). Of course she got a technical foul. That handwriting was on the wall before the game even started.

The funniest part, though, was when the TV cameras panned to her husband in the stands. He looked and her and gave a half-hearted shrug, as if to say, "Now you people know what I'm living with every day."

I say, Go Brenda. That technical was for all of us sleep-deprived, hormone-laden, leaking, lochia-y, postpartum moms who couldn't blow our tops on national television.

Thank you.