for the record

James was determined to make mischief yesterday, and I'm not so sure it's not a trend, but anyway..

I was in the kitchen yesterday afternoon (as I am many many afternoons), and James came in and spotted the unlocked pots cabinet. He shrieked (he has this great alarm-like scream that he reserves for when he spots something he has access to which he knows he should not have access to) and went right over to open the cabinet. I caught him in time, of course, since I was right next to him. So he quickly gave up that fight and ran over to the cabinet under the sink, which contains all of the chemicals. I keep it locked with one of those plastic cabinet-locker-thingys that slides around the handles. James, with all of his 16-month might, rips open the doors, busting the lock into two pieces. He was so pleased. Sweet Rachel ran right to my bathroom to get a ponytail holder so I could tie it shut...phew! He then went right to removing my pans from their drawer. He later disappeared briefly, and I caught him running around with a stick of butter (but that was on the counter...he's not tall enough...is he??). He thought he was such big stuff on that one. Then later, when I was removing the freshly-baked brownies to a plate, little James was pitching an absolute fit--tantrum--to have some brownie. I had given him a couple of bites, but then I said no more. He was throwing himself around and scream-crying--so dramatic was he. He got over it fairly quickly, though, and I thought to myself, "well that didn't last long...I'm glad he got over that!" I finished filling the plate with brownies, and then I glanced over to see my boy stuffing his face with a brownie that he apparently was able to swipe from the plate!! He was in a ZONE chowing down on that thing, so when I said, "JAMES!" it startled him good-fashioned, and he looked up at me, as guilty and he could be! Today, the child pushed a chair over to the fridge and commenced playing with the ice/water dispenser, right behind my back while I was doing something else! STINKER!!!

*sigh* He sure is cute...

the birthday--the big ONE

My baby boy turned one last weekend. It's a little hard to take when people start remarking, "He's not really a baby anymore, is he?" "YES HE IS," screams my soul--but I know he isn't. I sure do love this kid.

Since I've failed to post more than, oh, say, twice regarding my third-born, here are a few milestones and things-I-wanna-remember:

• True to form for our Giles babies, he took his first steps at 9 months, and really started walking well quickly.
• Unlike his sisters, who had only their 2 bottom teeth at their first birthday, this kid had 7.
• He ate baby food for a brief few weeks before he began to refuse it, demanding--in a very communicative fashion--table food. The girls did not care a thing about any of that, and continued to eat baby food for a few weeks even after their first birthdays. He also LOVES meat, which the girls still don't care much about.
• "Mama" was James's first word, which is a nice contrast to the "Dada" I never heard the end of with the girls (hehe). HOWEVER, he seems to have forgotten that sweet-sounding word. He now says "Dada" aaaaall the time, but he calls me "AAAHHHHHH!" Yes, he yells at me. And I suppose I respond, and so that's why he keeps doing it, but whatinthaworld should I do? Anyway, like Carly, he has swiftly figured out how to get his point across by pointing, yelling, grunting, and generally making his wishes known. And, like his sisters, he is a tough one to convince when my ideas conflict with his.
• He disobeys a little more readily than I remember his sisters doing. He turns "no touch" into a big game of "dodge-the-swat," which he finds hilarious.
• He's bigger than his sisters. Although he's been in size 12 month clothes since the age of 6 months, he's still adequately taller--as in, he can reach things that I never remember worrying about Baby Rachel or Baby Carly reaching.
• Rachel and Carly's first pairs of shoes were size 3. James's little sandals are size 5. And his toes already hang off the ends.
• He is content and quiet as long as he is walking around carrying something he thinks he shouldn't have.
• James likes Rachel well enough, but he is most interested in Carly. Carly didn't pay James much attention for many months--until he started walking. I guess he became a peer at that point, and she suddenly fell in love. He thinks she's so funny, and he knows exactly how to push her buttons and make her squawk, and he does it ALL day long.
• He's lovey, and he offers a forehead-bump and a coo to anything with a cute face (stuffed animal, doll, Carly). Sometimes he offers these sweet exchanges to me and to others, and I cherish those sweet little moments.
• He's not much into snuggling now that he's a big one-year-old. I used to rock him every night, but now he just squirms and fusses when I try, until I finally just toss him in his crib and bid him farewell. He goes to sleep without a hitch, thankfully, and he sleeps quite well all night.
• He takes two naps...er...sorta. He WAS taking two great naps, but for the last month (and I've been in denial about the trend, but anyway), he has had more one-nap days than two-nap days. I don't know what he's thinking, but he plays/sings/yells through one of his naps at least 3-4 days EVERY week now. HOW could he POSSIBLY be even THINKING of dropping a nap. I won't have it. :)
• He also seems to be disinterested in nursing, which is earlier than either of the girls. Sad.

That's all I can think of for now. This boy sure does make our days more fun, and I can't wait to see the man he turns out to be. In the meantime, I'll keep babying my baby boy!

i like my kids

I mean, ain't they cute?? :)

2 years. 2 months.

It has been awhile, oh Blog o' mine. Many moments since July 31 have warranted a post--some marker to later remind myself of these days, but I just haven't done it.

But today is special (not that every other day isn't). Today is my middle child's 2nd birthday. She's beautiful. She has crystal blue eyes and hair that is growing these sweet little baby curls in the back. Some days I want to just freeze time. She's affectionate and snuggly, and very very opinionated. Over the last couple of weeks, she has most certainly reinforced the "Terrible Two's" reputation--temper tantrums that can only be left alone, a ready "NO" regardless of the question, and a general contrary spirit that is immensely frustrating to all of us. But she's so cute.

The girl talks. A LOT. She's anxious to communicate, and you can almost hear how hard she works to put words together into the complex sentences she's surprisingly able to construct. "Mommy...I want...go...Rachel's room...Rachel...say...noooooo," in her tiny little voice, with her most serious expression, wagging her finger and nodding her head all the way. It's cute. She repeats Rachel without letting her even complete her own sentences sometimes (Rachel says, "Carly! Don't coffee me!").

We tried to move her to Rachel's room a few nights ago. It didn't go well. At all. We even pushed the beds together so it would be like she's sleeping WITH her sister, but to no avail. I was anxious, because we need the nursery for my growing fat baby boy, but we will just have to figure out something else for now.

AND speaking of my fat baby, I never have posted about him! Yesterday was his 2-month birthday! I can't believe he's that old, but at the same time, I can't believe he's that young! The kid was 9 lbs 5 oz at birth, and he has not slowed down at all. He's so much bigger than the girls were at this age that I forget how young he really is (I find myself picking him up like he's a 4-month-old and then remembering that he's not quite so steady yet). He's a cute one, too. I think he looks a lot like Carly did, but I can see Rachel in him often, too. It will be fun to watch him grow and to see who he resembles most. Of course, like the other two, it seems he will have blue eyes like their father. But I'm in love with those blue eyes, so I consider it a good thing.

Labor and delivery were not so different this time. I thought he would come a little faster, but he didn't (of course), and, as providence would have it, he was born in the 8:00pm hour, just like my other two. Weird. He was 9 days late--9 extra days of a pregnancy that could not have been slower.

I struggled emotionally after Carly was born. For the entire first year I struggled. But I feel great this time. I can attribute that to many things. For one, I am in a better place spiritually than I have ever been. When Carly was born, I was at a low. I struggled with bitterness and resentment toward my husband, and it took that year for the Lord to reveal truths to me that ultimately humbled me and allowed me to experience real love--from God and from my husband. Secondly, my little fat baby is SUCH A GOOD SLEEPER. I think getting adequate (or anywhere close to adequate) sleep makes a really really big difference in my (anyone's?) psychological health. Carly nursed all night long (almost) for her entire first year (almost). Once I put her down at night, I never knew when or how often she'd be up again. But James (did I say we named him James?) has been a sleeper from the beginning, and already he has a lovely routine of taking a good, hard, solid 3-hour nap every single afternoon, and going to bed (sleeping HARD) sometime during the 7:00pm hour, not waking again until 2:00am at the earliest. Even if he wakes up for some reason, he has no interest in nursing, so I'm totally off the hook. Neither of my girls have been this way. Rachel was a great night sleeper, but not daytime. Carly slept just okay during the day, and terrible at night. James...I prayed for you, dear sir--that you would just SLEEP. Praise the Lord!

And finally, I think the biggest reason I feel great is because I felt so HORRIBLE during this last pregnancy! Almost from the day I found out I was pregnant, I felt awful. I didn't have morning sickness, thankfully (and I know some of you probably stopped reading right there because of how unfair that is), but this boy killed my back. I had sciatic nerve pain the whole time (to the point that walking reduced me to tears at times), and by the end, I thought my pelvis would shatter and my hips would be permanently dislocated. I felt completely debilitated to do the simplest chores around the house. I didn't cook dinner. I never cleaned. It's a wonder my family survived. Of course, my husband was the hero--I think he barely survived.

I cannot capture all of the joyous details I've skipped over the last 3 months, but I can definitely say that, while I am a tired mommy, I am blissfully tired. This has always been my dream--to be a mommy. I work hard. I have learned to be more organized and more productive. I feel accomplished to accomplish what would seem so simple, were I not juggling three little kids along the way.

And while my kids make me crazy most of the time, I try to realize how quickly time passes, and how I will long to return here, if only for a day, when my kids are grown, and I try to cherish the everyday moments and freeze them, if only in my mind's eye.