Christmas was what Christmas usually is here – lots of presents, too much food, great times with family, and the inevitable holiday illness. On Christmas Eve, right at bedtime, Sprout started projectile vomiting. Honestly, I wasn’t all that surprised. He’d been fine all day, but our family has a history of Yuletide ailments. Sprout’s first Christmas was accompanied by antibiotics for a double ear infection and breathing treatments. Last year, Michael developed that mystery rash that had us spending untold hours in UrgentCare, so I was on the lookout for this year’s sickness. Sprout threw up the entire night. We all slept in the living room so Michael and I could take turns holding Sprout. This we did in complete darkness as Santa had already visited and we hoped to wait until morning for Sprout to see his presents. Granted, the dark was no big deal for me, but I think Michael found it challenging. Sprout, poor baby, was just miserable. We should have … ahem … instructed Santa to just come the next night, but frankly, we were excited and hoped Sprout would feel better by morning. He was a trooper, and he did love his train set, fire truck, Buzz Lightyear, and numerous other gifts, but the little guy was just exhausted.
The week before Christmas, two big things happened for Sprout. First, he transitioned to his big boy bed, which is a Thomas the Train toddler bed, and I have to admit it is pretty awesome. He does great in it at nighttime, but naps are harder. Second, Sprout has gone cold turkey with the pacy. He was only having it for naps and bedtime as it was, but now he’s totally pacy-less. One day, he just didn’t ask for it for his nap, and I decided that was as good a time as any. We didn’t make a big deal out of it, we just tried to vary his routine so he wouldn’t notice the lack of it so much. He asked for it a time or two, but was easily distracted from it. So my little man is a big boy now. I do miss the baby he once was, but it’s hard to dwell on that when everyday, he impresses me, amazes me, touches me, makes me laugh, and makes me fall a little bit more in love with him. It’s hard to miss what he was, when what he is now is so incredibly wonderful.
May you all be as blessed in the new year as our family has been in 2010. Peace and Love.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Little Mr. Clean
It was inevitable that Sprout would grow into a neat freak. I, though hardly a fanatic when it comes to housecleaning, am sort of tyrannical about clutter, or rather the total eradication thereof. And then there’s Michael… Let me just note here that the Mr. Clean in the title has nothing to do with Michael’s bald head and earring. Well, not much to do with it. My husband is a neat freak. As in, somebody find the man a twelve-step program. I can only imagine the toll that having a toddler has taken on his psyche. But it is starting to look like Michael has a convert in Sprout.
Sprout now has to have a napkin “nikkin” beside him at the table when he eats. If dinner has high mess potential, then Sprout demands that a wet rag be within reach. His new favorite thing is to throw stuff away for us. Wrappers, packaging, loose threads, lint, whatever – just give it to Sprout and he’ll discard it for you. Unfortunately, this obsession has extended to things that you don’t want him to throw away. Just this morning he walked through the kitchen in a very purposeful way. When I asked what he was doing, he said, “throwing something away,” and then sighed loudly because clearly, a toddler’s work is never done.
“What are you throwing away?”
“All gone,” was his only response.
I did a quick swipe of the garbage can, but honestly, my heart wasn’t in it. So I went through the house. Iphone was in its place. Audio book reader was safely out of Sprout’s reach. Same for the remote control. All the things that usually capture Sprout’s attention were accounted for. Only later in the day did I discover that the item in question was most likely stitch markers that I use in knitting. He wouldn’t have known what to call those, so it makes sense that he didn’t answer me about what he was throwing away. Stitch markers, for the non-knitterly among you, are little and round. Think small washers like are used in plumbing. Or maybe they aren’t used in plumbing. How would I know? Anyway, I had left two stitch markers laying on the end table last night after finishing Sprout’s Christmas stocking, and now they’re gone. I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but the mystery seems pretty well solved to me. When Sprout was younger, I worried constantly that I’d lose a stitch marker and he would find it and choke on it, so he’s not used to seeing them around. To him, the little things were not supposed to be on the end table, made no noise, and had no buttons to push, so they were obviously garbage and therefore required immediate disposal.
So if you visit our house any time soon, remember to keep your belongings with you at all times. Sprout’s definition of trash is broad.
Sprout now has to have a napkin “nikkin” beside him at the table when he eats. If dinner has high mess potential, then Sprout demands that a wet rag be within reach. His new favorite thing is to throw stuff away for us. Wrappers, packaging, loose threads, lint, whatever – just give it to Sprout and he’ll discard it for you. Unfortunately, this obsession has extended to things that you don’t want him to throw away. Just this morning he walked through the kitchen in a very purposeful way. When I asked what he was doing, he said, “throwing something away,” and then sighed loudly because clearly, a toddler’s work is never done.
“What are you throwing away?”
“All gone,” was his only response.
I did a quick swipe of the garbage can, but honestly, my heart wasn’t in it. So I went through the house. Iphone was in its place. Audio book reader was safely out of Sprout’s reach. Same for the remote control. All the things that usually capture Sprout’s attention were accounted for. Only later in the day did I discover that the item in question was most likely stitch markers that I use in knitting. He wouldn’t have known what to call those, so it makes sense that he didn’t answer me about what he was throwing away. Stitch markers, for the non-knitterly among you, are little and round. Think small washers like are used in plumbing. Or maybe they aren’t used in plumbing. How would I know? Anyway, I had left two stitch markers laying on the end table last night after finishing Sprout’s Christmas stocking, and now they’re gone. I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but the mystery seems pretty well solved to me. When Sprout was younger, I worried constantly that I’d lose a stitch marker and he would find it and choke on it, so he’s not used to seeing them around. To him, the little things were not supposed to be on the end table, made no noise, and had no buttons to push, so they were obviously garbage and therefore required immediate disposal.
So if you visit our house any time soon, remember to keep your belongings with you at all times. Sprout’s definition of trash is broad.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sprout and Homemade Christmas Ornaments
Our little Sprout had a wonderful time rolling out homemade ornaments.
He is hard at work rolling out the dough.
He took a little time to put his fingerprints in the dough.
He really liked the flour up to his elbows just like his Mommy.
He is hard at work rolling out the dough.
He took a little time to put his fingerprints in the dough.
He really liked the flour up to his elbows just like his Mommy.
Fold and roll and fold and roll until the ornaments came out just right. He worked so hard
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