Tropical Storm Eli

Not quite hurricane strength, yet I would say some fairly powerful Eli force winds were blowing in our home this morning. I don't know what gets into him. He ate the same cereal and raisins breakfast that he requests every morning. He has started to say, (which is something more like a raspy, yet absolutely adorable, morning shout,) "o's!" and "rainins!" upon waking, paired with his sign for milk so that he is sure to cover all his breakfast bases.

Many mornings he just walks down the hall and promptly begins pushing trucks and making that noise that boys seem to just inherently have nestled into their brains and vocal chords from birth. From the very miniature matchbox trucks to the very un-miniature tonka truck he will drive them on any and every surface, for hours, if I will let him, only stopping for meals and the occasional glance at Handy Manny.

But not today. Today he awoke with a mission to accomplish: to undo. Laundry in a basket awaiting folding from a procrastinating mama,...became a ground covering of wrinkled fabric, fit, he thought, for a dance floor, or a platform for jumping and spinning. Books, sitting innocently on the bookshelf, waiting patiently to be chosen for quiet, colorful, educational reading time,...are suddenly in a pile on the floor, and not, unfortunately, from a ravenous reading party. Blocks, meant for building and sorting,...well, you get the picture.

And as quickly as I can tidy up, he is darting from his time-out rug, (or naughty spot, as I like to say with my silly english accent voice,...wait, maybe that's why he doesn't take it seriously...) to make the next mess. And the absolute best part is that he puts himself back in time-out after each mini rebellion, because he knows. I don't know any tropical storms that are that smart.

Awake Baby

Okay, so he woke up about two seconds after that last post, but I have to say his waking was equally as delightful as his sleeping.

Swimming Baby All Day Equals Sleeping Baby All Night

It is nearly 8:30 am and e is still sleeping. And my coffee has brewed, and I have poured myself a mug of it with the exact amounts of cream and sugar that are ideal to my taste buds. And I am sitting on my couch, the news is on, (oh, I hope i'm not jinxing this,) the computer is working, and aside from the giant pile of clean laundry that needs folded, I am actually, literally, squealing with delight. (If you know my son, you know that since the womb he has been getting up at around 5:30 or 6 am.) But I think this is what happens the morning after you take a toddler to a swimming pool for the first time. If woman could give birth to fish, I would say that I had one.
ox

Picking Cherries and Chasing Babies

In case any of you were wondering the best way to distract a one year-old while you climb a very tall ladder that is propped up on, I don't know, let's say, a few twigs, so that you can pick some beautiful cherries for a pending pie that you will hopefully sell (or secretly equally as hopefully not sell, so you can eat it) at the farmer's market this weekend,...well, you strip him naked and place him in a variable garden of eden, equipped with fresh fruits, soft green grass, a baby pool, and of course, trucks. Essentially, taking the baby back to his earliest ancestral roots, minus the baby pool and trucks. It was amazing. Like a giant organic play pen, of sorts. Now, this is not to say that at some point the baby didn't take notice of the extremely tall and exceptionally dangerous ladder, and try to climb it whilst his wobbly mama calmly and repeatedly begged him, from the ladder's tipity top, to get down.

However, this is precisely why we mama's must travel in packs. (My good friend Becky and I are lucky enough to have had our sons, our first borns, only 2 months apart. And this is a story for another blog day, but I will quickly interject that I was in the delivery room with Becky while I was nearly 8 mos. pregnant. I am still unsure if it more prepared me or completely scared the living daylights out of me. (Okay what on earth are my living daylights?!?! I have no idea where that saying came from...(can you put parenthesis inside parenthesis?)) A family type buddy system. We were two mamas and two one year-olds, which made us an unstoppable cherry picking, baby chasing force. One mama picking, while one chases, and then trade. Hilarious fun.

And this was all thanks to Becky's parents and their beautiful yard and completely lovely cherry tree. However, I will say, that it seems the cherries desire to be elusive, (if a cherry could indeed be desirous) hanging in delicious, picture perfect bunches, just out of our reach in almost every direction. You see, cherries like the sun, as do most growing, unpicked fruits I am told, and the sun apparently likes to shine from high in the sky. Thusly, the reddest, most delightfully plump cherries can be found in the highest recesses of the tree's limbs. Ideal for the cherries, not for the pickers. But somehow, and without breaking a single ladder climbing bone, we triumphed. It was a beautiful day, and we managed to get enough cherries for a few pies and some adorable "tartlets" (what becky called her insanely cute mini tarts), which did indeed sell at the farmer's market just two days later.

Regretfully Yours,...

And the Laziest, Rudest, Most Complacent (non-)Blogger Award goes to.....

I'll bet you can guess.

My deepest and most regretful apologies to you all. In all the craziness of life, and what with all of my other online obsessions, (i.e. Facebook and emailing and instant messaging far away friends, flittering about looking for recipes and solutions to all my problems, googling "chickenpox" to see if the strange rash all over Eli's bum and feet is what I think it is, but later finding that it is actually probably an equally as scary problem called hand, foot, and mouth disease, photoshopping my face onto the bodies of celebrities to see what my hair would look like, you know the obvious things one does online....) I have let my blogging, well, go extinct. I was on a roll there for a few months, but sadly, my momentum faded drastically, and I wish that I could say it won't happen again. However, I am going to put forth an effort, not just to blog again, but to try and recap all that we have missed. And then move forward from there. Most of you have seen Eli several times since I last wrote, but for those of you who haven't, he is now a giant. Not a baby, but a boy. A tall boy, who says "ummm, no!" and "yup" (a.k.a. yes ) in correct context when asked a question. For example, if I say, "Elias, would you like to have chopped livers for dinner?" He now knows to answer that question quickly and clearly, "ummm, NO!"

And if I ask, "Eli, would you like to have a sip of mommy's delicious cherry slushie, he responds with a very enthusiastic, "yup!", but in a kind of country boy accent that he doesn't use when he says any other words.

Other words in his repertoire are "mom!!!!" (most often yelled in the early morning hours), "dad", "mine!" (we have Grandma Bev to thank for that one), "up", "down", "out", "shoes", "choo, choo", "huhwoe" (a..k.a. hello), "bye, bye", "tank too" (which I'm sure you realize is, thank you), "wee wee" (which shockingly means please, and could also be misconstrued for oui, oui, which would be cute since he is half a frenchman), "duck" (which usually means truck, but often times does actually mean duck), "dog", and "dig" (which is pig). There are several other words in the works, but we are not quite sure exactly what is being said.

He is a boy who just recently turned 18 mos. old. He runs, he stomps, he climbs, he opens things, he dances, he takes huge bites out of apples, and he plays cars and trucks like you wouldn't believe. He loves to play with his trucks so much, and I believe it's actually just the wheels he's after, that he'll do so up until the final seconds before he has to go to bed, lying on the floor, exhausted from a long day of playing, pushing the truck forward and back, forward and back. It is a desperate attempt to keep the day from ending and it is extremely cute.

Since last blog, he has grown teeth. Four up top, three down below and one molar kind of halfway in. He has decided he is passionate about strawberries. He still loves milk, and oh, I hope his pediatrician isn't reading this, he still loves (and I mean l-o-v-e-s) his bottle. He likes spaghetti best of all the foods we have tried, which, may I say, is quite a lot, and you might suppose if you didn't know any better that he was indeed, Italian.

And just now he opened up his book called, "I Love Animals", pointed to the owl and said, "hoo, hoo!" I'm telling you, he's a genius. Okay, I'm mostly kidding there, but we have not covered owls yet. He also seems to have a crazily keen sense of hearing, as he can hear a train that is three miles or more from our house, sometimes before Jeff and I even hear it, and he shouts exasperatingly, "choo, choo!", with such intensity that you think he might lose his breath and pass out.

So speaking of which, the boy has awakened from the blessed naptime. And I have showered, eaten, swept up breadcrumbs (that E somehow pulled down from the kitchen counter, opened even though it was a brand new container, and poured out onto the tiles, then resembling something like sand on the beach,.... well, sand on the beach sprinkled with italian seasoning), made iced coffee, and blogged. I'll leave you with a picture of Elias the Spaghetti Lover sitting in his highchair reveling in the glory of a spaghetti dinner demolished.

Until next time (which will hopefully be in a few days, not a few years),

Megan

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Ahhhhhhhh!

Let me tell you a story about a little blue duckie. A bath toy loved by a little boy called Eli. And do you know why he loves the duckie? Because little blue duckie is soft and cute and he plays "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" when you press his belly. The duckie floats in the water and you can even use him as a washcloth.

Last Saturday, I was cleaning the bathroom, when duckie began to serenade me. I thought maybe I had bumped him while I was cleaning the shower. 5 minutes later, again, another round of twinkle, twinkle. And then every five minutes or so after that, more duckie music. I am starting to show signs of irritation, but in an attempt to finish cleaning before Eli awoke from his nap, I press on, trying to ignore the very ice cream truck-esque melody that is repeating over and over and over, but with no one offering me a fudgesicle.

Then enters my husband, whom I love dearly, but has almost zero patience for things like this. In fact, I was kind of surprised he hadn't spoken up sooner.

"Will you please stop hitting that duck in the bathtub!" said Jeffrey.

I am wondering if he really believes that I am doing this on purpose.

Finally after some twisting and contorting of the duckie's mid section, I managed to silence him, and thought maybe he had a chance for more bathtime fun with Eli. However, only a few baths later he is back at it, only this time, he is not doing well. Tonight we found duckie lying on his alligator friend playing some sort of sad hum, that no longer even closely resembles twinkle, twinkle. It actually doesn't closely resemble any song I've ever heard. It's sad, really, and yet a relief. The duckie had a short, yet productive life, putting smiles on our faces and a tune in our heads.

Tonight he is headed for the garbage can. And not the garbage can inside, but the one outside, where duckie can end his life singing his now strange song to the birds and the fireflies.

Now at this age, Eli will not probably notice that little blue duckie will now be missing from all future baths. Had he been 1 or 2 when duckie went coo coo, we may have had a major baby meltdown. And so for this, I am thankful.

Elias finally did some rolling today during the daylight hours. Boy, did I cheer. I figure if I make a real big deal out of the daytime rolling, maybe he'll be encouraged, and also realize what a contrast this reaction is to the blatant non-cheering that I do at 3am, when he is rolling all over his crib.

This week baby Eli has discovered how to act shy. It is hilarious. If you walk into the room and say hello to him, he either hides his face or closes his eyes. Now I am calling this shyness, because that is what it looks like, but I actually have no idea what this is or why he is all of a sudden doing it. This is probably some specific stage of development that I'll end up reading about in some parenting magazine or book. But really even in it's most basic, unexplained form, it is extremely adorable, and Jeff and I can't get enough. It's just one more way that he is coming alive, you know, really showing more of who he is. It's so amazing to watch his little personality emerge from what was, not so long ago, just a helpless little baby body that only seemed to cry and eat and poop, sometimes all three at once.

Eli might be teething, hence the glistening chin. Teething is some sort of huge mystery. I have heard horror stories of all of the problems it can cause, i.e. diaper rash, pooping problems, crying, pain, lack of sleep, irritability,etc....

Now I haven't seen any of these symptoms, and his gums are not swollen, and he is as happy as a clam. However, he drenches the front of every outfit with drool within about 15 minutes of being dressed, and he puts nearly everything in his mouth. And at the absence of something to put in his mouth, he will not hesitate to gnaw on his fingers, fist, arm, and sometimes big toe.

But just look at this face. Imagine that smile with a single tooth in it. I am unsure if I can handle a measure of cuteness that is cuter than this.

Lord help us.

ten weeks later...

Ten weeks passes us all by in the blink of an eye, but in baby years this is quite a lengthy span of time, which brings me to my apology....sorry everybody. While baby Eli has been rapidly growing, we have been struggling through a sort of technological breakdown. A broken computer, a new computer, Windows Vista, and Verizon Wireless, (not necessarily in that order) were voraciously working together to ensure that the Lemays could not merge onto the Information Superhighway that some like to call the Internet. But we cannot be stopped. It is the year 2007, my own mother can take pictures of me with her telephone; so how is it that gigantic multi-billion dollar companies cannot coordinate the release of a new computer program with software that is actually compatible with such said computer program?


And not only can they not coordinate such events, but they ask you to continue to pay for a service which you cannot use until they finish updating their software to be compatible with the new computer program, which, by the way, the entire world knew was coming and maybe could have been preparing for.


But I digress. This blog is not for me to rant about my problems, and the problem has indeed been solved. And so we are back. Baby Eli is in the running for the longest baby on earth. He is in the 70th percentile for weight, however for height, there is no percentage for him. Off the charts, like a true Shiverdecker. It's in the blood, and so we are planning to invest in a second refridgerator (just kidding,... kind of), and perhaps buy some stock in the Big and Tall store(again, only kidding).


He is also gaining cuteness by the minute. He now laughs and says da da da da da da, etc... He can play in the exersaucer thing-a-ma-gig. He finally loves a good bath. He still likes the television, in fact, with an increasing love for noggin, (a channel on our cable that has an irresistably cute moose who teaches us about family and colors and spanish and patterns. Mommy and Eli watch, while Daddy begs and pleads for possession of the remote control. hee hee)

He is wearing mostly 9 mos. clothes, but needs 12 mos. pj's due to his staggering height!


He has started to roll, choosing to practice mainly in his crib around 3am, at which time he cries, no, screams, because he cannot roll back over. This happens about 5 times before I move him to the pack n' play in our room, and about 5 more times until I give in and brew myself a pot of coffee and call it a night. I assume this will be temporary, as all things baby usually are, and so I am attempting to enjoy each roll and its accompanying scream. It is becoming a rather comical event, and if I weren't so darn tired I'd probably be able to work up a chuckle or two. Probably the most hilarious part of it all is that during the day, I put the child on a blanket on the floor and put the most enticing toy just a roll's reach away. He looks over at the toy, smiles, and goes about his business, lying flat on his back! This makes me jokingly shake my fist at the sky.





I mentioned his new found laughter. It is unbelievably adorable. The kind of laughter that a mommy will go crazy for. And so I have made it my mission to find at least one thing each day that makes Eli giggle. If the fly on my wall could talk, I would be embarrassed for him to tell you of the lengths I have gone to make my baby laugh. My good friend Jenny calls it "baby comedy" and it is an art form that not all can master. A baby rarely laughs at the same thing twice. Yes, just like lightning. And this is precisely where it gets tricky. But I am in it to win it. He makes this face when he is just about to laugh. You have to see it. I actually caught it on film by holding the camera over us while I kissed his belly, or if you are familiar with Cosby Show-speak, it was really more of a zerbert to the belly. I had tried this before with no luck. But finally at the ripe old age of 5 and 1/2 mos., he could see the hilarity of a good zerbert.