As the boys get increasingly mobile and coordinated, they've decided that having another baby around is handy for developing their skills. I assume the thought process goes something like this...
Need to pull yourself up? Grab onto brother's shirt for support! Sure, you're strangling him, but it's a strangle of love. Wonder what an eyeball feels like? Stick your thumb into brother's eye socket and find out! Want to chew on something but you're tired of all your toys? Why, it looks like brother has two chubby cheeks over there just waiting to be chomped! Is that truck calling your name? Shove brother out of the way so you can practice walking while rolling a toy!
As you can see, they keep me on my toes. I used to be able to leave them unattended for awhile, but now they are constantly on top of each other. It starts off as playful wrestling but quickly devolves into a bite-scratch-strangle-fest. The other day DF said, "It will be nice once they can understand they're hurting each other." Pause. Then we just looked at each other and laughed because, uh, the realization of inflicting pain might not magically make them stop!
They do seem to be pretty obsessed with each other lately, though. They are always following each other around the house. They can play together quite nicely for a few minutes at least. And even when they do fight, they get over it quickly. Aww, brothers :)
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Generational Naming
I'm not sure if it's a Southern or US-wide trend, but I noticed that around Memphis at least, it's not very common for grandparents to go by "Grandma" and "Grandpa." It seems like almost everyone has their own pet name, whether it's Mimi, Nana, MeMaw, Popsie, Granddaddy, or Papa.
Apparently, there's a whole website dedicated to picking your grandparent name. Who knew?!
I always referred to my own grandparents as Grandma/pa + Last Name, like "Grandpa Jones." I never really noticed what my friends called their grandparents, but I think that nomenclature was fairly common in the Northwest, at least in the 80s. Perhaps the times they are a changin'. For our kids, I told their grandparents they could pick their own name if they wanted to. For now, we're sticking with Grandma and Grandpa all around. We'll see if the boys come up with anything more creative once they start talking.
Most Southern parents seem to go by "Mama" and "Daddy" to their own kids, I think, more so than "Mom" and "Dad." However, I should be caveating this whole post that it's mainly based on my observations of white, middle-upper class families from my church, which is populated primarily by traditional Southerners.
When it comes to naming one's offspring, there are some unique Southern traditions afoot. For example, say your maiden name was Jane Jones. You marry Steve Smith. It would be fairly common for your son to then be named Jones Smith. I've heard this with some rather...interesting...maiden names that really don't seem like first name material, but in this case the kid usually gets a more normal nickname at least.
For those of you who know my maiden name, I don't think you'll be surprised to hear we did not carry on that tradition :) If you don't know it, just imagine something German with a whole lot of consonants. Like Pfretzschner. Oh but don't worry, we'll call him "Schnerzie"!
In other naming news, I've decided that the babies need new pseudonyms for the blog. Baby A and Baby B are so 2015. So from now on, I'm going to call them Gus and Gibson, in honor of the restaurants that fueled my growing belly during pregnancy!
Apparently, there's a whole website dedicated to picking your grandparent name. Who knew?!
I always referred to my own grandparents as Grandma/pa + Last Name, like "Grandpa Jones." I never really noticed what my friends called their grandparents, but I think that nomenclature was fairly common in the Northwest, at least in the 80s. Perhaps the times they are a changin'. For our kids, I told their grandparents they could pick their own name if they wanted to. For now, we're sticking with Grandma and Grandpa all around. We'll see if the boys come up with anything more creative once they start talking.
Most Southern parents seem to go by "Mama" and "Daddy" to their own kids, I think, more so than "Mom" and "Dad." However, I should be caveating this whole post that it's mainly based on my observations of white, middle-upper class families from my church, which is populated primarily by traditional Southerners.
When it comes to naming one's offspring, there are some unique Southern traditions afoot. For example, say your maiden name was Jane Jones. You marry Steve Smith. It would be fairly common for your son to then be named Jones Smith. I've heard this with some rather...interesting...maiden names that really don't seem like first name material, but in this case the kid usually gets a more normal nickname at least.
For those of you who know my maiden name, I don't think you'll be surprised to hear we did not carry on that tradition :) If you don't know it, just imagine something German with a whole lot of consonants. Like Pfretzschner. Oh but don't worry, we'll call him "Schnerzie"!
In other naming news, I've decided that the babies need new pseudonyms for the blog. Baby A and Baby B are so 2015. So from now on, I'm going to call them Gus and Gibson, in honor of the restaurants that fueled my growing belly during pregnancy!
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
My Brain Is Done...No Clever Title
For the last week and a half, my hobbies have been as follows:
In other words, the kids are sick again. Baby B came down with the unknown illness first. It lasted about 5 days. He finally recovered a few days ago, and then Baby A woke up with a fever yesterday. Arrrrg!
I know people say, "Oh, kids get sick all the time. Don't worry about it." How am I NOT supposed to worry when my kid's temperature rises to 105 degrees?! That is not 100.5, it is 105. At 3AM. PANIC MODE! Actually, I was too tired to totally panic. I gave him Tylenol, fed him a cool bottle, and attempted to lay a wet rag on his head (he wasn't a big fan of that 3rd technique). Within an hour, the fever dropped back to the 99-degree range and he fell asleep on my lap. Successful mothering!
But guess I do obsess a bit much over their health in general. Part of it is probably because they started out as NICU babies, so I view them as kind of medically fragile. Really, that's unfounded though b/c they were quite healthy in the hospital and even got to come home before their original due date. I really need to get a handle on my hypochondria before the nurse line cuts me off. They still call me back pretty promptly and I'm always sure to thank them for their advice. They say, "Call anytime - that's what we're here for!" But I bet they are blessing my heart up and down behind my back...
- Taking baby temperatures (using my super-handy forehead scanner thermometer!)
- Obsessing about results of said forehead scans
- Snuffing out little noses
- Calling the pediatrician's nurse line
- Googling symptoms and remedies
- Trying to convince myself the babies don't need to see a doctor yet
- Taking babies to the doctor anyway
- Rocking crying babies
- Experimenting with baby dietary changes
- Not sleeping
- Grouching at everyone
- Worrying
- Doubting my calling as a mother, as my patience evaporates
In other words, the kids are sick again. Baby B came down with the unknown illness first. It lasted about 5 days. He finally recovered a few days ago, and then Baby A woke up with a fever yesterday. Arrrrg!
I know people say, "Oh, kids get sick all the time. Don't worry about it." How am I NOT supposed to worry when my kid's temperature rises to 105 degrees?! That is not 100.5, it is 105. At 3AM. PANIC MODE! Actually, I was too tired to totally panic. I gave him Tylenol, fed him a cool bottle, and attempted to lay a wet rag on his head (he wasn't a big fan of that 3rd technique). Within an hour, the fever dropped back to the 99-degree range and he fell asleep on my lap. Successful mothering!
But guess I do obsess a bit much over their health in general. Part of it is probably because they started out as NICU babies, so I view them as kind of medically fragile. Really, that's unfounded though b/c they were quite healthy in the hospital and even got to come home before their original due date. I really need to get a handle on my hypochondria before the nurse line cuts me off. They still call me back pretty promptly and I'm always sure to thank them for their advice. They say, "Call anytime - that's what we're here for!" But I bet they are blessing my heart up and down behind my back...
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Bugs of the South: Midnight Edition
Well, it happened again. I had another late-night cockroach encounter. Sheesh, bugs, why don't you just leave me alone?!
A couple nights ago, I was soooo tired. Both babies have been fighting sleep lately. B was sick; I don't know what was going on with A. I had spent forever convincing them to fall asleep last night, and they finally gave up. I crawled into bed, quietly, so as not to awaken DF. Curling up and thinking sleepy thoughts, I suddenly heard a rustling noise.
"What was that?" I thought to myself. "Is something crawling around outside?" I focused on the sound and determined that it was coming from...inside the house! It seemed to be emanating from near the door to our master bathroom.
Now, I should mention, we moved into this house last summer and less than a week later, I was in the hospital on bedrest at 29 weeks pregnant. As a result, we never fully unpacked. We still have a few piles of belongings sitting around in corners. Although I know this is known pest-encouraging behavior, I have yet to actually pick things up...
Ok, back to the night of the story. <scritch scritch scratch> came the noise from the corner of the room, getting louder. My imagination raced. "Is it a mouse? A baby squirrel?" (I've been concerned that a squirrel family has taken up residence in our attic.) I fumbled in the dark for my phone, not remembering how to activate the flashlight app. I leaned over towards the noisy corner and shone my screen as best I could, pretty sure I was going to find a mouse and have no idea what to do next. Then I saw a gigantic cockroach frolicking in a plastic sack of toiletries! ACK! Once it caught sight of the light, it jumped off the sack and ran to hide in a corner.
Oh dear, I thought, what am I supposed to do now? Trying to kill in under a sack would certainly create quite the ruckus and possibly wake up the babies. I decided that ignoring the roach would be the best option. Maybe it would go hide in the bathroom or crawl back down the drain or something. Just like last time, that plan didn't work. Before long, I heard the pitter-patter of little roach feet heading across the bedroom floor. I couldn't take it. I hopped up out of bed and grabbed a big handful of toilet paper as a weapon. (Wimpy weapon, in hindsight.) I turned on my phone flashlight again and pounced on the bug, but of course it scurried away...out of our bedroom...and ran under the door into the babies' room. DOUBLE ACK! MY CHILDREN ARE NOW UNDER THREAT FROM A DISGUSTING INVADER!
Quickly reassessing my strategy, I ran to the bathroom where I knew I had an empty plastic cup. Now, the tricky part was to catch the bug without disturbing two sleeping babies. I opened the door as quietly as possible, shone the flashlight down on the floor, and observed the roach running full speed ahead toward Baby A's crib. He bounced off the crib skirt and flipped onto his back. Seizing this moment of my opponent's weakness, I swooped down with the cup and trapped the bug on the floor. Success! Now I just had to pull the cup out of the bedroom along the floor without making too much noise.
Once I had the cup + roach in the hallway, I grabbed a piece of junk mail and slid it under the cup so I could transport my prisoner outside and toss him unceremoniously in the dirt next to the garbage can. Back from whence you came, varmint! I would've stomped on him, but I wasn't wearing shoes, and he ran into hiding before I could shod myself.
Whew, victory! My adrenaline was pumping and it took me quite awhile to fall asleep after that. I think the bugs and I should enact a cease-fire line that extends around the perimeter of the house. Wonder if they'll send their prime minister over to negotiate? Or maybe that was him, and I threw him out the door...
A couple nights ago, I was soooo tired. Both babies have been fighting sleep lately. B was sick; I don't know what was going on with A. I had spent forever convincing them to fall asleep last night, and they finally gave up. I crawled into bed, quietly, so as not to awaken DF. Curling up and thinking sleepy thoughts, I suddenly heard a rustling noise.
"What was that?" I thought to myself. "Is something crawling around outside?" I focused on the sound and determined that it was coming from...inside the house! It seemed to be emanating from near the door to our master bathroom.
Now, I should mention, we moved into this house last summer and less than a week later, I was in the hospital on bedrest at 29 weeks pregnant. As a result, we never fully unpacked. We still have a few piles of belongings sitting around in corners. Although I know this is known pest-encouraging behavior, I have yet to actually pick things up...
Ok, back to the night of the story. <scritch scritch scratch> came the noise from the corner of the room, getting louder. My imagination raced. "Is it a mouse? A baby squirrel?" (I've been concerned that a squirrel family has taken up residence in our attic.) I fumbled in the dark for my phone, not remembering how to activate the flashlight app. I leaned over towards the noisy corner and shone my screen as best I could, pretty sure I was going to find a mouse and have no idea what to do next. Then I saw a gigantic cockroach frolicking in a plastic sack of toiletries! ACK! Once it caught sight of the light, it jumped off the sack and ran to hide in a corner.
Oh dear, I thought, what am I supposed to do now? Trying to kill in under a sack would certainly create quite the ruckus and possibly wake up the babies. I decided that ignoring the roach would be the best option. Maybe it would go hide in the bathroom or crawl back down the drain or something. Just like last time, that plan didn't work. Before long, I heard the pitter-patter of little roach feet heading across the bedroom floor. I couldn't take it. I hopped up out of bed and grabbed a big handful of toilet paper as a weapon. (Wimpy weapon, in hindsight.) I turned on my phone flashlight again and pounced on the bug, but of course it scurried away...out of our bedroom...and ran under the door into the babies' room. DOUBLE ACK! MY CHILDREN ARE NOW UNDER THREAT FROM A DISGUSTING INVADER!
Quickly reassessing my strategy, I ran to the bathroom where I knew I had an empty plastic cup. Now, the tricky part was to catch the bug without disturbing two sleeping babies. I opened the door as quietly as possible, shone the flashlight down on the floor, and observed the roach running full speed ahead toward Baby A's crib. He bounced off the crib skirt and flipped onto his back. Seizing this moment of my opponent's weakness, I swooped down with the cup and trapped the bug on the floor. Success! Now I just had to pull the cup out of the bedroom along the floor without making too much noise.
Once I had the cup + roach in the hallway, I grabbed a piece of junk mail and slid it under the cup so I could transport my prisoner outside and toss him unceremoniously in the dirt next to the garbage can. Back from whence you came, varmint! I would've stomped on him, but I wasn't wearing shoes, and he ran into hiding before I could shod myself.
Whew, victory! My adrenaline was pumping and it took me quite awhile to fall asleep after that. I think the bugs and I should enact a cease-fire line that extends around the perimeter of the house. Wonder if they'll send their prime minister over to negotiate? Or maybe that was him, and I threw him out the door...
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