Well, I think my boys might need a little help in the charm department. Don't get me wrong, they're very cute and polite, but I think it might be time to teach them about tact and little white lies.
The other day I was sitting on the toilet when my usual audience arrived. (I know, I should just lock the door, but whatever.) So there I am, doing my business, when Rowan very seriously looks up at me and says, "Mom, why is your butt so big?"
See? Not so charming. But it was awfully funny.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Ack!
The other day things were not so great at our house. I was feeling sick (nausea and completely blocked up sinuses), the basement was threatening to flood with all the rain we were getting, I was signed up to work at the co-op we belong to, and who knows what all else.
In the late morning, the boys asked if they could have the candy Rowan had picked out for them last night, so I got them out. They were Brach's butterscotch ones. Anyway, about 15 seconds after popping it in his mouth, Kemper proceeded to choke. Not the fully blocked airway kind of choking, but close enough. He was trying to shove his fingers into his throat to get it out, gagging all the while. I did the Heimlich maneuver, and it eventually popped out. Whew. I set the offending piece of candy on the counter so I could comfort poor Kemper, then he got up and I started cleaning up the floor. While I was doing this, he grabbed the candy off the counter and popped it into his mouth...
...and CHOKED AGAIN! I couldn't believe it. This time was even worse. The candy never came back up, he just gagged and gagged and spit up blood (he had scratched the back of his throat while trying to get it out), then swallowed it. Of course, this one was all my fault. Why didn't I just throw the stupid thing in the trash?!
Man, what an experience. Thank goodness for CPR training. I'm not sure which of us was more frightened by the whole event, but suffice it to say we sat on the kitchen floor, both of us in tears, for quite a while.
In the late morning, the boys asked if they could have the candy Rowan had picked out for them last night, so I got them out. They were Brach's butterscotch ones. Anyway, about 15 seconds after popping it in his mouth, Kemper proceeded to choke. Not the fully blocked airway kind of choking, but close enough. He was trying to shove his fingers into his throat to get it out, gagging all the while. I did the Heimlich maneuver, and it eventually popped out. Whew. I set the offending piece of candy on the counter so I could comfort poor Kemper, then he got up and I started cleaning up the floor. While I was doing this, he grabbed the candy off the counter and popped it into his mouth...
...and CHOKED AGAIN! I couldn't believe it. This time was even worse. The candy never came back up, he just gagged and gagged and spit up blood (he had scratched the back of his throat while trying to get it out), then swallowed it. Of course, this one was all my fault. Why didn't I just throw the stupid thing in the trash?!
Man, what an experience. Thank goodness for CPR training. I'm not sure which of us was more frightened by the whole event, but suffice it to say we sat on the kitchen floor, both of us in tears, for quite a while.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Birthday Blues
My, how time flies. I somehow managed to miss posting anything about Christmas or the New Year. Both of those holidays were great - a nice long visit with Mimi and Pops, cousin Cyrus and uncle Reynolds for a few days, lots of presents.
But on to birthdays. Today is the boys' 4th birthday. Hard to believe, but true. We had their party this past Saturday, and it was a big hit. For the first time, I contracted it out, so to speak. We had a build your own sundae party at a local ice cream shop. They provided a staffer to play games with the kids, and they did all the set up and clean up. I think most of the kids had fun, though some of them sat out of a game or two (Rowan wanted no part of "Pin the cherry on the sundae" game, for example).
In any event, it was fun. I think next year we might be up to having a drop-off party, but I just wasn't ready for that this time around.
Late Saturday night, Kemper woke up as Morgan and I were getting ready for bed. Sick as a dog. At first I thought maybe we had let him eat too much junk (ice cream sundae and king cake at a church Mardi Gras fundraiser that night), but I now know it was a virus. He was up most of the night (which, of course, means I was up most of the night as well), and spent most of Sunday in recovery.
And guess what? Like nearly everything else in this house, we share viruses. It was Rowan's turn to spend the night on the makeshift bed in the bathroom. At least he's pretty much over the vomiting in bed thing. He didn't quite make it all the way to the bathroom, but still. The wood floor is much easier to clean up than the bed.
Sigh. I wonder when I'll get this dread disease?
But on to birthdays. Today is the boys' 4th birthday. Hard to believe, but true. We had their party this past Saturday, and it was a big hit. For the first time, I contracted it out, so to speak. We had a build your own sundae party at a local ice cream shop. They provided a staffer to play games with the kids, and they did all the set up and clean up. I think most of the kids had fun, though some of them sat out of a game or two (Rowan wanted no part of "Pin the cherry on the sundae" game, for example).
In any event, it was fun. I think next year we might be up to having a drop-off party, but I just wasn't ready for that this time around.
Late Saturday night, Kemper woke up as Morgan and I were getting ready for bed. Sick as a dog. At first I thought maybe we had let him eat too much junk (ice cream sundae and king cake at a church Mardi Gras fundraiser that night), but I now know it was a virus. He was up most of the night (which, of course, means I was up most of the night as well), and spent most of Sunday in recovery.
And guess what? Like nearly everything else in this house, we share viruses. It was Rowan's turn to spend the night on the makeshift bed in the bathroom. At least he's pretty much over the vomiting in bed thing. He didn't quite make it all the way to the bathroom, but still. The wood floor is much easier to clean up than the bed.
Sigh. I wonder when I'll get this dread disease?
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Precision
A few nights ago as I was trying to herd the boys upstairs to bed, Kemper kept resisting my pleas. After a couple of attempts, I finally went back into the kitchen to see what was going on.
"I'm hanging my monkeys in their trees to sleep." He was being very careful to make sure they wouldn't fall out during the night. Here's what he did:
The only empty drawer pulls were a result of an insufficient number of monkeys.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Upgrades
After long deliberation, I have purchased high-backed booster seats for the boys. If you don't have small children, you are not very likely to know much about the current various options for child restraint systems. And if you do have small kids, you know how many choices are out there.
One member of my mothers of twins group sent an email with a YouTube link about why you should keep kids in a 5 point harness seat for as long as possible. It was, of course, a tear jerker. You know, a story about how they put their son into a booster, then got in an accident and he died because the seat belt failed. And how if he'd stayed in a 5 point harness seat, he'd still be alive. (I'm not trying to minimize the loss, but to summarize the video. I can't imagine losing one of my kids in a car crash, or in any other way.)
So I started thinking we needed new, bigger seats with harnesses since the boys are outgrowing their current seats. Research on various sites muddied the waters, in my opinion. I couldn't find anything other than the video that talked about prolonged use of the harness. I felt like this horrible parent for even considering a shift to booster seats. It was suggested by someone near and dear that perhaps I was overreacting. I continued to stew over this for a good long while. Several months, actually.
In the end, I decided that since I survived a child restraint free upbringing, and since my kids are perhaps the only children alive who haven't unbuckled their straps in protest, I would go with the boosters. Every time I went to Target or any other store that sells car seats, I'd examine them carefully, then leave to think on it some more. Maybe I am a bad mommy for reaching this conclusion, but I have to draw the line somewhere, right? I always make sure my kids are buckled up, I'm a careful driver, and last but not least, Kemper and Rowan are SO happy with the new seats I'm convinced I made the right choice. Rowan thanks me for buying him a new seat every time we get in the car. It's only been a few days, but they're still very excited about using real seat belts like mommy and daddy.
One member of my mothers of twins group sent an email with a YouTube link about why you should keep kids in a 5 point harness seat for as long as possible. It was, of course, a tear jerker. You know, a story about how they put their son into a booster, then got in an accident and he died because the seat belt failed. And how if he'd stayed in a 5 point harness seat, he'd still be alive. (I'm not trying to minimize the loss, but to summarize the video. I can't imagine losing one of my kids in a car crash, or in any other way.)
So I started thinking we needed new, bigger seats with harnesses since the boys are outgrowing their current seats. Research on various sites muddied the waters, in my opinion. I couldn't find anything other than the video that talked about prolonged use of the harness. I felt like this horrible parent for even considering a shift to booster seats. It was suggested by someone near and dear that perhaps I was overreacting. I continued to stew over this for a good long while. Several months, actually.
In the end, I decided that since I survived a child restraint free upbringing, and since my kids are perhaps the only children alive who haven't unbuckled their straps in protest, I would go with the boosters. Every time I went to Target or any other store that sells car seats, I'd examine them carefully, then leave to think on it some more. Maybe I am a bad mommy for reaching this conclusion, but I have to draw the line somewhere, right? I always make sure my kids are buckled up, I'm a careful driver, and last but not least, Kemper and Rowan are SO happy with the new seats I'm convinced I made the right choice. Rowan thanks me for buying him a new seat every time we get in the car. It's only been a few days, but they're still very excited about using real seat belts like mommy and daddy.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Holidays
We spent our Thanksgiving in Norfolk, VA with our sister-in-law's family. They host every year, but we haven't gone consistently due to the cost of flying and the length of the drive. But since Christmas has been relocated to our house this year (and therefore we will neither be flying to New Orleans nor driving to D.C.), we decided to brave it and drive to Norfolk.
It wasn't all that bad, really. We left early Wednesday morning and hit almost no traffic. In fact, the worst of it was when we arrived in D.C. to spend the night with Morgan's brother and his family. The boys did quite well in the car, aside from the obligatory "Are we there yet?" and "How much longer?" and "I don't want it to take so long!". Toward the end of the drive, Morgan offered them each $5 if they could avoid any questions or comments about how long it would take to get there. I remembered a tip I read somewhere and revised the rules so that each time they asked one of the forbidden questions, they'd lose some money. Whatever was left when we got to D.C., they could keep. Let me tell you, this was the most amazing trick ever! We will definitely be doing this on future trips. In case you're wondering, the idea I had heard about was to give kids a roll of quarters at the start of a long trip, then take a quarter away from anyone who asks "Are we there yet?" or other similar questions. They keep any money left when the trip is over.
My boys don't even really know about money, but they knew they wanted some. What a great idea. Next time we'll go with the quarters, as it's both cheaper and easier to keep track of since you simply take the money away on the spot.
The visit in Norfolk was fun. This was our first non-vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner in many, many years. I think we had been vegetarian for about 17 years, but recently started eating meat again. And our hostess didn't mess around. She served a turducken, so there was meat aplenty. Maryam is a good cook, and we had a good time. Fortunately her son Keon, who is about 9 months older than the boys, had lots of cool toys in his room to occupy the kids.
Of course, then we had to drive back to Boston. The last day we were in Norfolk, Rowan got sick (fever and vomiting), which made the drive home somewhat dubious, but we survived. I don't know what it is about our family and travel, but someone always ends up being sick. Oh well. I'm still glad we went. With so much loss in my life, I find myself eager to try and create family for my boys whenever I can.
It wasn't all that bad, really. We left early Wednesday morning and hit almost no traffic. In fact, the worst of it was when we arrived in D.C. to spend the night with Morgan's brother and his family. The boys did quite well in the car, aside from the obligatory "Are we there yet?" and "How much longer?" and "I don't want it to take so long!". Toward the end of the drive, Morgan offered them each $5 if they could avoid any questions or comments about how long it would take to get there. I remembered a tip I read somewhere and revised the rules so that each time they asked one of the forbidden questions, they'd lose some money. Whatever was left when we got to D.C., they could keep. Let me tell you, this was the most amazing trick ever! We will definitely be doing this on future trips. In case you're wondering, the idea I had heard about was to give kids a roll of quarters at the start of a long trip, then take a quarter away from anyone who asks "Are we there yet?" or other similar questions. They keep any money left when the trip is over.
My boys don't even really know about money, but they knew they wanted some. What a great idea. Next time we'll go with the quarters, as it's both cheaper and easier to keep track of since you simply take the money away on the spot.
The visit in Norfolk was fun. This was our first non-vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner in many, many years. I think we had been vegetarian for about 17 years, but recently started eating meat again. And our hostess didn't mess around. She served a turducken, so there was meat aplenty. Maryam is a good cook, and we had a good time. Fortunately her son Keon, who is about 9 months older than the boys, had lots of cool toys in his room to occupy the kids.
Of course, then we had to drive back to Boston. The last day we were in Norfolk, Rowan got sick (fever and vomiting), which made the drive home somewhat dubious, but we survived. I don't know what it is about our family and travel, but someone always ends up being sick. Oh well. I'm still glad we went. With so much loss in my life, I find myself eager to try and create family for my boys whenever I can.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Dirt Gets Under the Fingernails
Kemper's nails grow unbelievably fast. I could probably cut them once a week and that wouldn't be enough. (Which is not to say that they get cut once a week....) And he plays dirty all the time. We haven't managed to get him to be able to wash his hands well enough to get that dirt out, so he basically has permanent black stripes at the tip of his fingers.
Rowan, on the other hand, hasn't needed his nails trimmed since he was an infant. He just takes care of it on his own. It's not that he's a nail biter or anything, and I don't actually see him picking at them all that often. I know he does it, but I don't know when. But honestly, I don't clip his nails. The exception is when he gets a hangnail and begs me to fix it. This usually serves as a bedtime stall tactic, and almost always involves toes rather than fingers.
On another note, I've noticed a recent change in Rowan at bedtime. To date, or goodnight ritual ends with a hug, kiss, and what we call a bip. The bip is a gentle pinch of the nose with your thumb and index finger. Morgan started it, I think, and "bip" was the sound he made the first time he did it. Anyway, each boy gets "a hug and a kiss and a bip" before we leave them for the night. (This is usually what finally gets me to cut Kemper's nails - when he gives one of us a bip that leaves a scratch on our nose.) Well, the last few nights, when I've asked Rowan if he wanted his hug, etc., he said he didn't. The first time he said no, I was certain that I would barely make it down the stairs before he called me back up because he'd changed his mind. Imagine my surprise when there wasn't a peep. Same story the next two nights. I guess he's growing up. And I guess I'm supposed to be sad about that. The jury's still out.
Rowan, on the other hand, hasn't needed his nails trimmed since he was an infant. He just takes care of it on his own. It's not that he's a nail biter or anything, and I don't actually see him picking at them all that often. I know he does it, but I don't know when. But honestly, I don't clip his nails. The exception is when he gets a hangnail and begs me to fix it. This usually serves as a bedtime stall tactic, and almost always involves toes rather than fingers.
On another note, I've noticed a recent change in Rowan at bedtime. To date, or goodnight ritual ends with a hug, kiss, and what we call a bip. The bip is a gentle pinch of the nose with your thumb and index finger. Morgan started it, I think, and "bip" was the sound he made the first time he did it. Anyway, each boy gets "a hug and a kiss and a bip" before we leave them for the night. (This is usually what finally gets me to cut Kemper's nails - when he gives one of us a bip that leaves a scratch on our nose.) Well, the last few nights, when I've asked Rowan if he wanted his hug, etc., he said he didn't. The first time he said no, I was certain that I would barely make it down the stairs before he called me back up because he'd changed his mind. Imagine my surprise when there wasn't a peep. Same story the next two nights. I guess he's growing up. And I guess I'm supposed to be sad about that. The jury's still out.
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