Month 6 - Recap

Little Bear,
Hey, you know what's really cute? Besides your delicious dimples and your tasty toes (and my apparently penchant for alliteration), of course. You like to snuggle. Not for long periods of time (bummer), though, but I'll take it. There are often times during the day where you've got a full belly and an empty diaper, but you're still fussy. And all you need in those times seems to be a hug . I pick you up and you immediately stop crying. You hold on to my arm and start cooing. All you need is two or three minutes, then you're fine going back to your regularly scheduled tummy time (or rather, back time - you still hate being on your stomach). I hear there are babies who like to cuddle all the time, and while I appear to not breed those types of babies, I cherish that you need little periods of some Mommy Cuddles. It's flippin' fantastic.

You've really discovered your voice this month. You like to jabber. And squeal. Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeal. Seriously, dude, you're killing me with the squealing. You sound like a dilophosaurus, before he spits the nasty goo from his mouth (when you're older, we'll watch Jurassic Park so you can see that scene). You sound like you're crying, but when I go to check on you, lo and behold, you're happy - but squealing like a banshee.

You're consistently inconsistent in how you sleep at night. Sometimes you only wake up once, sometimes you wake up twice (note: I like those nights the least), sometimes you don't wake up at all (note: I like those nights the best). We've had to start you on a swaddle detox program since you ended up rolling over while swaddled (thankfully you did it when you were in the living room and we saw you right away). Your arms are still pretty flail-y and spazzy, so I was worried as to how you'd do without being swaddled. I was pleasantly surprised at how well you did at night. You didn't wake up any more than you did when you were swaddled. Naps, however, are a completely different story. You're pretty much a wretched unswaddled napper. Soooo, yeah. Let's work on that, shall we? Mommy likes naps herself. And Mommy can't take a nap if the youngest Smithkid insists on not napping.

You still haven't cut any teeth, despite the mounds of wet bibs and burp rags that accumulate every day. I could have sworn you would have teeth by now, but so far, no dice. Your gummy smile is so unbelievably charming, though, so I'm fine with your toothless state.

I can't believe you're six months old already. That's half a year! (I know, I'm pretty stellar at math). Your enormous head is still keeping you from being able to sit up well. Your current record is 2 seconds sitting up by yourself without face-planting. But you're able to roll quite well, so I think gone are the days where you stay put. *sigh* I so enjoyed your immobility.

Please don't call DCF, but I took a kid-free trip this month. Yes, the mother of a child who will not take a bottle took a kid-free weekend trip. [I had a good reason - one of my dearest friends graduated Summa Cum Laude from law school] But your Daddy is a marvelous Daddy who insisted I needed a little break from the craziness that is you and your sister. When I protested and said that you don't take a bottle, Daddy laughed and said "He will if you're not here!" And wouldn't you know it, you DID! The first day was the worst - you are one stubborn little punk, and you were highly offended by the bottle. It didn't take long, though, for your hunger to outweigh your stubbornness - and you started drinking from a bottle like a rockstar. I was worried that you wouldn't nurse well when I got back, but you did just fine. I had such a great time on my trip, and I'm so glad I went. I came back feeling refreshed, relaxed, and so ready to see my loves. I admit, I dragged out your first middle-of-the-night feeding when I came back. It had only been three days since I had seen you, but it felt like a lot longer. I held you a little tighter, rocked you a little slower, and sniffed your sweet, little (okay, gigantic) head a little longer. You and your gigantic head melt my heart.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for May 9, 2012:

• Gun parts, ammo found hidden inside stuffed animals at Rhode Island airport
• NOAA reports warmest 12-month stretch on record
• DHS: Hackers Mounting Organized Cyber Attack on U.S. Gas Pipelines
• Afghan War Support Hits New Low
• High Fructose Corn Syrup Debate Gets Sticky
• Life Spans of Popular Electronic Gadgets

April 2012 - Recap

My darling rascal,
A running joke between Bob and me is that there's nothing funnier than a four-year-old girl. Well, in keeping with your over-achiever-ness, there might be nothing funnier (or more maddening - can't forget maddening ... but I digress) than a three-year-old girl. Or, more specifically, MY three-year-old girl.

This is your current favorite joke:

Knock knock
[Who's there?]
What do a wooster and a doggie say?
[Ummm ....]
Cockadoodle bark

While the joke doesn't make complete sense, it cracks me up seeing how it cracks YOU up.

For the past month or so, you've had flowers waiting for me when I pick you up from Mothers' Day Out. And by 'flowers', I mean 'flowery-looking weeds". And let me tell you, they're the most beautiful flowery-looking weeds I've ever seen. Apparently, you spend a chunk of your playground time walking around, scouting out some flowers for me. And when I pick you up, your teacher gives you the Dixie cup o' flowers to give to me. You get so excited, and I promise from the bottom of my heart that I treasure these flowers. They're perfect. They might be covered in dirt and bugs, but I don't care. They're from you. Therefore they're beautiful.

You still love to sing Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Yes, it's May. But who cares? Who can resist hearing Christmas diddies in the spring with lyrics like this:
Hark the heh-wuld angels sing
Gwoh-wy to the newborn King
Peace on Earth and mercy mild
God and sinners, reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the twi-vumphs of the skies
With an-jel-ees pose pwo-cway
Cwyst is born in Beth-wa-hem

You also like to sing "I May Never March in the Infantry", "Jesus Loves Me", and "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" sung to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

You had your first real dentist appointment this month. You had seen the dentist early last year, but it wasn't for an official checkup. You did so great last year and I hoped you'd do just as well this time. You were a little nervous, but God bless the dental hygienists - they were so sweet to you. You brought your stuffed puppy with you to the appointment, and the hygienists gave your puppy a cleaning first to show you what they were going to do when it was your turn. You didn't want to lie back in the chair for your cleaning, so they let you sit in my lap while they did it. When the dentist came in, you decided laying down was going to be okay. You gripped your puppy with one hand and squeezed mine with the other. The dentist sang a little song to you and commented on how pretty your 'princess teeth' were. You were cavity free (see? Me being an un-fun mom and not letting you eat candy hardly ever finally paid off!) and were walking out of his office proudly holding a sparkly toothbrush and two princess stickers after a whopping 15 minutes. If anyone needs a pediatric dentist recommentation in Pensacola, I can't say enough good things about Dr. Bonnin.

Your prayers are so, so sweet and they make me smile from head to toe. I try really hard not to giggle because I don't ever want you to feel as if I'm making fun of you, or as if your prayers aren't 'good'. Your prayers are perfect, and they are an excellent, living example of what it means to have faith like a child. You thank God for anything and everything, and I know God enjoys every word. What's neat is that you pray completely different when Daddy puts you to bed versus when I put you to bed. When Daddy puts you to bed, you want him to help you with what words to say. When I put you to bed, you (usually) pray by yourself. You always thank God for the day and for His love. Then you procede to kick it Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round style. I understand you probably don't even know what Wheel of Fortune is, regardless of Old School or New School, so let me explain about this particular bonus round. Waaaaaaay back in the dark ages (like the '80s), the bonus round of Wheel of Fortune involved the big winner getting to buy prizes with his/her prize money. The home audience would see a big room full of furniture, electronics, art, and whatnots. The contestant's face would appear in the corner of the TV screen and you'd see him/her scanning the room, deciding what to buy. The dialog went something like this: "I'll take the white wicker dinette set for $800 ... and the ceramic dog for $100 ... and the toaster oven for $170 ..." Would you like to see a video? Well I just happen to have a video! Enjoy:

[Side note - I totally laughed at the 10" TV] Okay, so the scene's been set. You scan your room and thank God for what you see. "Thank You God for my cwothes dat I wear outside ... thank You for my Yeggos [Legos] dat I play with when I get sent to my woom [room] ... thank You for my Emmo [Elmo] chair dat I sit in when I weed [read] my stowwies ... thank You for my dwesser [dresser] that I put my undies in ... thank You for my stuffed aminimals [animals] that I seep [sleep] with ... thank You for my bean bag chair dat I yand [land] on when I jump off my bed ... " Precious, no? And please know that if I had kicked it Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round style when picking daughters, and I had had a room full of goofball girls to pick from, I would have spent every penny of my prize money on one particular goofball girl. You are my Old-School-Wheel-of-Fortune-Bonus-Round grand prize.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from May 1, 2012:

• Mark Zuckerberg's New Life-Saving Facebook Tool
• More Babies Born Addicted to Opiates
• 'Octomom' Files for Bankruptcy
• Jessica Simpson gives birth to baby girl
• Anarchists Plotted to Blow Up Cleveland Bridge: FBI
• OBL One Year: NYC Security Surge, Body Bomb Worry

Weekly Smithkids - Week 171 and Week 22

 My sweet girl

Yep, that IS a three-year-old in a Lincoln Log bucket.

Team Smith is easily amused.

He's smiling because he's too little to be Lincoln Log bucket'd.

His time is coming though.

Smooches from Daddy

It's seriously hard to remain on your tummy when your head so large

Weekly Smithkids - Week 170 and Week 21

This week was such a departure from the wailing and teeth-gnashing Disaster of the Double Double-Ear Infections that was last week.

It's so nice to see her smile again. She's a top-notch smiler.

And him, too. His dimply goodness rocks my world.

Month 5 - Recap

Well, sir, you win the race of Which Smithkid Can Get An Ear Infection Before the Other? Natalie got her first one just a month before she turned two. But you, you little One Upper, got your first one just a week before you turned five months. I noticed you coughing on the evening of Daddy's and my anniversary, but I didn't think much of it. Fast forward three hours and you began your Four Nights of Not Sleeping More than One Hour at a Time. You didn't have a fever, but your nose was half-congested-and-half-runny and you kept coughing. The next morning, I called the nurses' line at your pediatrician's office and was told that as long as you didn't have a fever and as long as you were able to breathe well, then there's not really anything the doctor can do. Poo. The next night was just as bad. You were up and crying every hour or so and nothing really seemed to console you besides incessant jiggling (which, while it may be a great calorie burner, it's hard to do at 2am. And again at 3am. And again at 4am. And again at 5am.) You looked absolutely miserable. Your eyes were runny, your nose was runny, and, of course, you were still drooling. 'Soaking wet mess' is a pretty good phrase to describe you. I'm not proud of this, but I called the nurses' line again the next morning and told a little white lie by saying your cough sounded croup-y. I wanted the doctor to see you to determine if there was something more than just a cold, but I didn't want to sound like a worry-wart mother. Which I am, by the way. Anywho, I do NOT advocate lying and I do NOT want you to lie, but I'm so glad your pediatrician saw you that day. She took one look in your ears and said "Oh wow. He's definitely got an ear infection. And an upper respiratory infection." So while I'm so sorry you're sick, I'm THRILLED there was a (relatively) quick fix for it. By the second day of being on an antibiotic, you seemed like you were feeling better. You're still not sleeping great at night, but it's a heckuva lot better than what it was. (Side note: Natalie got an ear infection two days later. Two Smithkids, each with a double ear infection. Each not sleeping for more than 45 minutes at a time before waking up crying [at different 45-minute intervals, of course.] You're welcome for not making you both sleep outside.)

You giggle. A lot. And seriously, kid, it's like music to my ears. You're such a good-natured boy (except when you're tired. You're pretty much a bear when you're tired. And not a cute Charlie Bear kind of bear. You're a grumpy, fussy WAAHHHHHHHH kind of bear.) so it's pretty easy to get you to giggle. We laugh a LOT in this house, so it bodes well that you're so amused by us. Is it sad that we like the validation of our humor when we can get a baby to giggle? Eh, probably.

We put you in the Jumperoo for the first time this month. It was one of Natalie's favorite toys and I was totally excited to see how you'd like it. It took you two-ish weeks before you got the hang of it. And even then, you still don't really jump. And why one earth WOULD you, since Natalie pushes the Jumperoo up and down FOR you. It's hysterical. You're just a passenger. As far as you know, the Jumperoo runs on Natalie propulsion.

It's so funny how differently I approach your milestones, being the second child and all. I was practically tracking Natalie's every move and making sure it lined up with what was appropriate for her specific age. But you? You're not rolling over yet (you're about 95% of the way there), but it's no biggie. You're not great at holding up your head for long periods of time when you're on your tummy (in your defense, I don't think I'd do any better at holding up a behemoth head either), but it's no biggie. Mainly I think that everything leading up to you becoming mobile can wait as long as possible. I know what happens when babies become mobile. And I really, really enjoy knowing that if I put you in one position on the floor, leave the room for a few minutes and come back, you're going to be in pretty much the same position I left you in (give or take a few degrees). But a mobile baby? Dude. That's a whole 'nother can of worms that I'm just not ready for. So if you don't crawl till you're six, it's cool with me.

You seem to like when I read to you. You come with me when I read to Natalie before her naptime and the books seem to hold your interest for a while. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom is one you get particularly squeal-y about. It was one of Natalie's favorites, so it's cute to see that you like it too. I distinctly remember Bob reading bedtime stories to Aunt KK and me when we were younger. And truth be told, she read to us WELL past the age of when kids usually aren't read to anymore. But I loved it. It's one of my most treasured memories, being curled up on Aunt KK's bed while Bob read us each book of the Little House of the Prairie series. And when she reached the last page of the last book, we started the first book all over again. I don't remember of LHOTP bookies are too 'girlie' - I'll have to reread them and see, because I would love, love, love to read those books to you and Natalie. And maybe in between each LHOTP book, I'll read a book about robots or dinosaurs or dump trucks or something. Just to boy it up a bit. Cuz I'm nice like that.

I pray for you and your sister a lot, but one of my most fervent prayers is that you both come to a saving knowledge of Jesus. I can't be a good mom without Him (as evidenced by you and your sister not sleeping in the yard when you double-teamed me with ear infections). I can't be a good wife without Him. I can't be a good ANYthing without Him. Yesterday was Easter. Easter is my favorite holiday, and celebrating my risen Savior coupled with you being 0.416-with-a-line-over-the-six'th of a year old makes the day especially special. YOU are especially special, my darling Baby Bear.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for April 9, 2012:

• 'Everybody's going to do it': Teens risk melanoma to tan for prom
• Magical shot in playoff lifts Bubba Watson at Masters [side note: Bubba Watson is from Milton, and went to the same high school as Daddy!]
• London, NYC top the cities favored by ultra-rich
• Athletic dudes' girly little secret: The pedi
• World's smallest puppy fits in a mug
• '60 Minutes' veteran Mike Wallace dies

Weekly Smithkids - Weeks 165, 166, 167, 168, 169 & 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

So I'm pretty sure that we did cool things this past month. But the past four days have been rough. Charlie got his first ear infection and slept probably 15 hours over four nights. He didn't even sleep that badly when he was a newborn. The antibiotics seem to have kicked in, so he's feeling a bit better. Just in time for Natalie to start feeling ill. Awesome.

So here's how this week has looked.

A lot of this. Particularly at 2 in the morning.

Oh yes. Let's not forget the big, fat tears.
We've had a LOT of those.

And then there's the crumpled face. That's a good one.

And finally, we have the grumpy toddler. A personal favorite.

And me? Well, this about sums it up.

(Except my hair doesn't look this well-brushed.
And I'm in yoga pants and a shirt with drool on it.
And I have three baskets of clothes that need to be folded.
But other than that, this is me.)

March 2012 - Recap

My sweet Peanut,
I'm so curious to know if you'll do something music-related when you're older. You love to sing, you pick up on lyrics with lightning speed, and you can identify most instruments by just hearing them. Three of your favorite songs have Ls in the title. Your sweet voice combined with your inability to pronounce the letter L, makes for some unbearably cute renditions. You get ridiculously excited when "Love Come to Life" (or, "Yuhve Come to Yife"), "Learning to be the Light" (or, "Yearning to be the Yight"), and "Where I Belong" (or, "Where I Beyong") come on KLOVE. You jump up, you squeal, you proudly announce to Charlie that these are your favorite songs. And you can sing about 80% of those songs. I love, love, love it.

You are definitely Pep's granddaughter and Uncle Rich's niece. You like going around the house announcing "Ooh rah, Go Navy."

Our normal bedtime routine is reading you a book, me or Daddy praying, then tucking in you in (after your OCD self makes sure all of your stuffed animals and blankets are in their proper position). One night, it just struck me to ask you do to the praying. And oh my WORD. I can't believe I've waited this long to hear you pray. I so wish I had recorded what you said because I don't remember everything. I was suffocating under the sheer sweetness of your prayer, and the lack of oxygen prevented me from recalling your prayer. Here's what I do remember you prayed for: Bruce [Daddy's really good friend who's been in the hospital for a long time], books, toys, yeggos [Legos], bean bag chairs, Chaw-yee ("because he's a buh-wito" [we had just swaddled him up like a burrito]), hairbows, and Ita [your imaginary friend].

Speaking of Ita, you talk about her nonSTOP. I haven't the foggiest idea where you came up with her. Sometimes your story changes as to who she (sometimes she's a girl, sometimes she's a grownup, sometimes she's an animal). Lately, Ita is your friend from 'caw-wedge' (college). The past few times we've gone to the park, any girl you see is Ita. And you make a point of calling her Ita and announcing to everyone around that she's your friend from 'caw-wedge'. Needless to say, you get some strange looks from kids at the park.

I know this isn't unique to you, but good heavens you're bossy. You're particularly bossy as to how we play (or 'pway') with you. You want our legs just so (and procede to screech if we deviate from your Approved Leg Position plan). You feed us the words you want us to say (and again, you procede to screech if we deviate from your Approved Script plan). You're also bossy about what you eat.

Me: Here's your snack, baby.
You: Oooh, pwetzels! Yum!
You: [after having only taken one bite of one pretzel] And after dis, I can have another snack.
Me: Um, excuse me? How about we try that again?
You: *sighing* After I eat my pwetzels, can I have another snack?
Me: Much better.

Me: Nat, please finish your dinner. Stop being a slow-poke.
You: After I eat three bites, I can have dessert.
Me: I'm sorry, come again?
You: After I eat three bites of my bwokki (broccoli), I can have a cookie!
Me: That's what I thought you said. Mommy will let you know when you've eaten enough dinner to have a cookie.
You: Okay, after FOUR bites I can have a cookie.
Me: Again, Mommy will let you know when you've eaten enough dinner to have a cookie.
You: I can have a cookie after dinner.
Me: [firmly placing my hand on top of my head to keep it from popping off from the sheer lunacy of our conversation] Do you tell Mommy what you're going to do?
You: No.
Me: So let's try the whole cookie scenario again.

After Daddy and I put you and Charlie to bed, we often run through some of the funny things you say. We can't get over how insanely clever you are. And the things that you say that cause us to pull our hair out in the heat of the moment cause us to giggle like a couple of little girls just a short time later. You getting out of bed to complain to us that your NON-MOVING, NON-ALIVE, STUFFED animals are dilly-dallying and it's preventing you from falling asleep drives me BATTY. But after you've fallen asleep and it's just Daddy and me hanging out in the living room? It's hysterical.

You really like Little Einsteins. It's probably one of the least annoying shows that's out there. Each episode included famous art (I'm assuming it's famous - I don't 'get' art, so I don't know what's famous and what's not) and classical music. You love repeating the names of the composers. And I love hearing you repeat the names of the composers - mostly because you mispronounce them. My favorite so far? Johann Spedastian Bop.

So last month (or maybe two months ago. I can't remember. You and your brother have irreperably damaged my brain.) mentioned how you are the ultimate Back Seat Driver. You screech at me to stop when you see a red light, screech at me to go when you see a green light, get upset when you can't SEE the light, etc. And you're still not happy with the I-Can-Turn-Right-At-A-Red-Light-If-There-Aren't-Any-Cars-Coming rule ("Wed means STOP, Momma! You can't GO!"). This brings us to a week ago. We were playing Red Light, Green Light (for the 12 billionth time that day) and you were Green Light-ing it down the hall when I said "Red Light!". And you kept going. So I said "Red Light!" a little louder. And you kept going. So I said "Hey goofball, 'Red Light!' means stop!". To which you said "I know it was a wed yight, but I was turning wight [right] and dere weren't any cars coming." Wise guy. I can see it now. Fast forward three or four years and Daddy and I are having to go to yet ANOTHER parent-teacher conference because you were a smart-alecky-wise-guy-know-it-all. Daddy and I won't admit it then, but we'll be happy to admit it when you're 30 - your smart aleck-iness, albeit infuriating and exhausting at times, is quite funny. But as far as you need to know, it's infuriating. Now turn away so I can laugh, you funny little smart aleck.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from April 1, 2012:

• Palm Sunday observed around the world
• No fooling: Asteroid zips close by Earth
• One-man town up for sale in Wyoming
• Are you kidding? April Fools' Day on the Internet
• Mega Millions Winners: Identities Not Yet Revealed
• Is It Over Yet? Gingrich Hints at an Alliance