Uncle Chrissy gets arty at the park

If you can see past my huge boobs, that's my boy, smiling for Uncle Chrissy. One of those sin-to-be-inside kind of days today.

A beautiful day for some yard work

We are in for some delicious spring weather here today and tomorrow, so Uncle Chrissy (who is visiting us for the week) and I took the boys out in the back yard to put them to work. No dead weight allowed around here; there is simply too much to be done in our little house that was neglected for so long. For example? Our backyard is covered in dead leaves. We have two huge oak trees that dropped all their business on the ground this past fall, but as it appears the previous owners were not in a capacity to deal with it, we are now stuck with leaf-removal duty. Who knows how many giganto lawn trash bags we will be filling with these crispy numbers, which are currently serving as pseudo-mulch for the billions of bulb plants now peeking out into the world.

Isaac volunteered to rake at first, but was much more useful as a Pile Monitor:





When that got old, we put him to work watering the roses and filling the bird bath. He thought it would be a more valuable use of water to properly hydrate the grass. And his shoes.



When I tried to get him to water our many patches of daffodils and narcissi, he thought it might be better for stomping purposes to conserve the water and to behead the flowers instead:



It being so lovely, Isaac then turned to working on the car. You see, his car has long had this problem with its engine. First he asked Uncle Chrissy to help him push the thing to the mechanic's --



-- but apparently Chrissy is the worst pusher ever and Isaac was stuck doing it himself:





We'll get to Jacob later. Perhaps we can count on him for a steady supply of mustard-colored fertilizer?

A milestone

For me this time. After reading Jen post about how she's now fitting into her pre-pregnancy pants, Wednesday morning I Bjorned up the Jakester and got the Isaac to follow me down, down, down into our scary basement, where a serial killer surely lurks waiting to slit our throats. In this scary basement are many boxes, and in one I found a handful of non-maternity clothes. I fished out my favorite American Eagle jeans, the ones I wore regularly from before Jake distended my abdomen. I had to suck it in to button them up, but they fit, even over my obviously larger hips and thighs. Yay for pants without elastic waistbands! And never you mind the blubbery goodness bubbling out over their top. All over campus I see sorori-hos with their flubber spilling out, so I am totally in with the trends.

Remembering that I am shrinking, yesterday I broke into my jewelery box and retrieved my wedding band, banished there since January. Lo and behold, my giant diamond sparkler fits once more. Never again to I need to appear in public looking like an unwed mother who chooses pants for comfort over style.

The twos, they are already terrible

This is a long post, but if you love me you will read it. I need some help.

We have most assuredly entered the twos with Isaac. In fact, I flipped casually ahead in the Bedside Toddler Bible and saw that he is already doing everything an advanced child of 2-1/2 can do. From what I have read, he is pretty typical in that his moods are a mixed bag. He regularly tells Dada and I that he loves us, and I was treated, both yesterday and today, to a special surprise -- get your hankies ready -- when he told me that I was his best friend. "Mommy (steps over and gives me a huge hug) Bess fwen" he says. LOVE that boy. He gives me so much to love every day.

In many respects, he is also a well behaved young man and does what we tell him to, though there are times when he is obviously testing boundaries and looks at us with that little devil gleam as he goes right ahead and does that thing he shouldn't. My favorites are when you sneak up on him as he is doing something he knows is bad. He literally jumps out of his skin and drops whatever he was doing, giving you that "You weren't supposed to see that!" look. Oh well. Worse things have happened. All this I can handle, and find amusing or even cute.

What I can't handle is this. When Jacob was born, I think Isaac instantly became more conscious of the concept of "mine." In the past two weeks, he has concocted a phrase, used at all times throughout the day no matter what we are doing, and regardless of whether or not something actually IS his:

"No, stop it, mommy! That's MINE!"

Sometimes this leads to immediate sobbing and sinking to the floor; more often than not, it is simply a declaration and then life continues. If he has ahold of an object, it is usually accompanied by arm-flailing away from me (or the current assailant) and possible flinging of the object.

Okay now, this is the first time I'm doing this, and I realize that he is soon to be two, and that issues with sharing are bound to come up. But this statement and its back-talk bretheren are getting ridiculous and driving me completely insane for several reasons:

*It has made for highly embarrassing public situations already. Two weeks ago we were out enjoying the sunshine around the dorms and ran into a nice girl practicing baton-twirling. She let Isaac play with her baton, and then I encouraged him to give it back, which he surprisingly did willingly. Then (with Jacob strapped to me) I took his hand and tried to get him to come with me away from her, to leave the poor girl alone. He sat down on the sidewalk and said "No! Stop it, mommy!" with me tugging away at his arm, such that it clearly looked to the non-mommy baton-twirler like I was hurting him. Another example: when Mamaw and Dadaw were here, we went to the mall. If Isaac was allowed to walk the mall unfettered he continually ran away, so I plopped him in his stroller. There was, predictably, horrible wailing. Later, he asked to get down and walk, and I told him he could on the condition that he didn't try to run away. Naturally, he did, and when I drug him back to the stroller (again, by his arm, again, with Jacob strapped to me), he yelled "OW! Stop it, mommy!" This was in the middle of a crowd of people, though I wasn't one of them because I had mercifully sunk through the floor.

*I took him to playgroup on Thursday, the first time we had been in two weeks, and it was a nightmare. We go to playgroup at a local church that has a huge stockpile of toys that everyone is supposed to share. Naturally sometimes, and for some kids, this can be a problem. But for my child, on this day, it was impossible. First he hoarded two balls. They were difficult for him to carry simultaneously, but if he dropped one, he screamed about how "No, that's mine!" and fussed until he could pick it up again. If somebody was playing with a toy he wanted, he told them "No, that's mine!" and when I explained that he couldn't have it, he fell to the floor in a melodramatic fuss-heap. I will admit that he was hungry (having refused to eat breakfast) and tired (having gotten up far too early for anyone's liking), and that his behavior did improve once we got to snacking, but still.

*This morning we went over to Ella's house, and, while he wasn't quite so bad as at playgroup, he still insisted that all of Ella's toys were "mine!" Weirder, when little Ella would try to touch him, he would wrest himself away from her, saying "No, Ella, that's my shirt!"

Internet, I don't really know what to do. Here's what we ARE doing, though it doesn't seem to be working. When he says "No mommy, stop it!" I say "We don't say 'stop it' to mommy". When he says "No, that's mine!" I tell him yes or no, that is or isn't his. At playgroup, we have always had a hard and fast rule that if somebody else is playing with a toy, he can't touch it unless he's invited; if he says "No, that's mine!" I remind him that, in fact, none of those toys are his, and that everyone has to share or that he has to wait his turn. Now I admit I may have instigated a bit of a problem because I have never really made him share with me at home. If he wants to pway twains, and I am playing with Gordon and he takes him out of my hand, I've never said anything about it because, well, *I* don't care if he wants to play with Gordon or not. I realize I should care, that I should set a more consistent example by acting, in this instance, like a playmate (or a "bess fwen"). But other than that, I gots nothin'.

Does anybody have any advice? Cause really, this sucks. I want to be able to take my child places without everyone around me suggesting that he's having a bad day.

Jacob's 1 month appointment

I took Jacob to the doctor for his one-month checkup on Monday. There was much screaming, but not from shots. He got none of those; apparently Dr. Modi is saving up for his two-month checkup, when he should get a bunch. No, the screaming was from the nudity. "How dare you strip me nekked in front of these total strangers!" Jacob said. "Well, I never!"

The tale of the tape supports my leanings towards opening an eBay store for all the clothes he's worn, like, once. Jacob weighed in at 11 lbs, 4 oz. That's over 2 1/2 pounds he's gained in the three weeks since he was weighed last, and it puts him in the 80th percentile for weight. And then comes the length. On Monday, my ape-child was 23 1/2 inches long, two full inches up from his birth length, which puts him above the 95th percentile. People often misspell our last name, so I have taken to telling them "You know, like our distant relation, Shaquille." Given what our genes have produced this time around, perhaps that's not so far off the mark. And lastly, despite his gigantic body, Jacob apparently has a little pea-head (not that you would know it from his huge puffy chipmunk cheeks) that measured in the 20th percentile.

Dada thinks his godzilla-baby stature will serve him well in life, suggesting that it may help to level the playing field in the future should his older brother of average weight and height ever try whomping up on him.

Sundays are best spent at Starbucks

This past Sunday we met our buddies at Starbucks again, but this time our buddies brought their new digital SLR camera (insert slobbery drool here). I will take advantage of their niceness in sharing so many pictures with me by posting almost all of them. Because picture-diarrhea makes up for me not posting.

While Isaac supervises, Ella investigates this new creature, who is curiously smaller than her. Could such a thing be possible? (given said creature's stats at his 1-month appointment, I'm thinking that won't be true for long...)

And yes, that's my headless body guarding Jacob's car seat. You can tell it's me from the unholy-large knockers. Here's Ella again: "What if I poke it? Does it make noise if I poke it?"



Ella's daddy volunteered to watch Toddler-Monkey as he ran his customary laps around Starbucks. Hey, we blow enough money there so as to not care about annoying the clientele. We are the clientele, buddy! Unbeknownst to me, Art captured my child SMILING for the camera as he ran towards his favorite place, the bathrooms:



I'm thinking we should get in touch with the Gap. Do you think I'd get a discount to support my babyGap addiction if my child models for them?

And finally! A decent picture of Dada and Jacob!



Here's Sarah holding Jacob for the first time. I think she experienced a strange uterine ache familiar to others with one kid who is no longer a baby.

Jacob at one month

It's hard to believe Jacob's been with us for a whole month already. He still spends much of his time eating, sleeping, and filling truckloads of diapers. His periods of wakefulness are steadily growing, however, and he is now alert and looking around for 2 periods of around 3 hours each per day. Bless him, he is such a good little sleeper at night, only waking up every 3-4 hours to feed, and then dozing right back off.

He has amazing control of his head now. He is past that business of tracking with his eyes and prefers to use his whole head now, craning his little flabby neck to look at whomever happens to be holding him at the time, or at his favorite gazing subject, the window. We figure he will be ready for face-forward Bjornage in the next week. He also likes to try to push himself up with his arms when on his tummy. He is a strong little sucker. But you would be, too, if you were as big as he. Here's my little beefcake (BEEFCAKE!) filling out his **3 month** sized romper (a gift from Andy Stumpf! Thanks!):



Dada has been accused of supplying some sort of orangutan-like genes to this kid. Jacob is basically so long that anything with footies is probably too small for him. And with as much as this kid eats...I'm looking forward to the official tale of the tape when we go for his 1-month checkup tomorrow, but an unofficial weigh-in at home suggests that he is between 11 and 12 pounds. When he is in that car seat, man, that is a killer to lug around.

Jacob is mostly a quiet, introspective young man. He is happiest when he is looking at light, especially sunlight through a window, but is increasingly interested in looking at people's faces. He is getting a little more vocal though, since Mamaw and Dadaw spoiled him rotten by getting him addicted to being walked around. He is content to sit in his bouncer for a bit while I do dishes, but after that I had better scoop him up post-haste and bounce him around the living room if I don't want to hear him fuss. Not that I mind having his toasty and soft little bod cuddled up against me, with his precious little fist clamped around my hair.

My God, This House is Freakin' Sweet

I haven't blogged since before we closed on the house. Lemme tell you what we've been doing. In that week and a half, Dada (and sometimes I) not only moved our voluminous amounts of crap over to the house, but Mamaw, Dadaw, and Dada completely revamped the place. After Dada went through and washed, sanded, and patched the walls, Dadaw single-handedly gave the entire house a new coat of paint, and painted each room to Dada's exacting specifications. Dada ripped up the carpet that was in the living room and hallway to reveal these gorgeous, basically untouched original oak (?) flooring, and shop-vac-ed all the nastiness out of the basement. Mamaw gave the place her special Mamaw touch, in every room, to make sure it was squeaky clean for me and mah boys, including special missions of cleaning mouse poo out of the oven and going hunting for stray pills so kindly left behind by the original owners all over the house. I served as baby-wrangler from the wee hours of the morn until way past everyone's dinner time, which made me start cackling in insane ways after about 3 days. Our desktop computer is still not up so I don't have the "before" pictures to wow you with, but I can give you a virtual tour of our gorgeous new little home that is ALL OURS! You must excuse the boxes and occasional misplacement of furniture or various other cluttering objects.

Here's the kitchen, which is unchanged except that it is now with white walls instead of putrid yellow:



From the kitchen you can walk into the dining room, which is the crown jewel of the place. No longer an institution green, Dada deemed that it should be this color to promote healthy eating. We also bought the dining room furniture off of the previous owners, as it is all handcrafted maple antiques from Vermont. And it was a steal -- $600 for all this business (AND a small kitchen table and chairs AND a '40s curio cabinet in the kitchen, which we kindly donated to my slave-labor in-laws):



More hidden fun in the house -- the old lady was an avid gardener. These were blooming in my backyard, and they are now MINE, so I cut them off and brought them inside.



From the dining room, you walk into the front room. Here is our gigantic front room, minus ugly/dirty/dusty carpet and institution green walls. The color, again, was chosen by our resident interior decorator, Dada:



Standing on the other side of the front room, looking to the hallway:




Here's the hallway, which also used to be carpeted and institution green:



Here's Isaac's room, which we painted white from the same ugly green as everywhere else. It's the smallest room -- I wanted to give him Jacob's room, but it turns out that the daybed Jacob and I usually sleep on doesn't fit in this room:



Here's our bedroom, which Dada chose to have painted cream:



Here's Jacob's room, which is currently lacking an assembled crib:



Here's our retro-sexy bathroom, which we didn't change anything about except to give it a fresh coat of white paint (above the tile). I've included Mamaw and Isaac for scale:



We also have a laundry room upstairs, a full basement, half of which we will turn into a rumpus room for the boys, a screened-in porch, a partially fenced-in backyard, lots of mature trees and flowering bushes and perennials, and no noisy students walking by outside. It's down the street from where the boys will go to elementary school, and we have almost 100% elderly neighbors who sit in front of their windows and watch everything like hawks. Um....can you say "Our house rocks"?

More free babysitting

Dada and I went to the new house this morning for our pre-closing walk-through. Here's what was going on upon my return.

On one side of the room....it's Mamaw doting on the Jakester! Picking his nose!



Staring hopelessly at him!



Him staring hopelessly at her!



And on the other side of the room....it's Dadaw the Amazing Human Pillow, capable of knocking the most resistant toddler unconscious!

Happy un-birthday to me

Yesterday was my 27th birthday. I joked continually that it should be known as my "unbirthday." Because we're closing on the house today, we've been so busy and so broke that I knew I wasn't going to get any presents right now. Dada is going to try to finagle me a new digital camera in May. My parents are buying me (and Dada, as a very early birthday present for him) a dishwasher for the new house, which comes without one. Yes, these things are necessary and really great, but they don't really feel like birthday presents per se. And then I also knew there would be no hoopla surrounding my birthday. With two super-little munchkins, I figured it would be impossible for Dada and I to get out alone for a celebration. And again with the brokeness and busy-ness, I baked my own birthday cake. Not that twenty-seven is a particularly momentous age, but I like my birthday served with a little bit of shazaam, okay?

It did turn out better than I thought. The boys and I went to playgroup in the morning and I told select moms that it was my birthday -- my friend Amy commented on how impressed she was with my "intelligence and efficiency" that I was able to cook two babies and a Ph.D. by the time I was 27. My in-laws (hereafter referred to as Mamaw and Dadaw) arrived at dinner time and took our whole clan out to the brand-new Panera Bread downtown for a tasty meal. Isaac, who knows all about "Bir-day Cake!!!" now, delighted in helping me with mine:



(here everybody's clapping after a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday to Claire")

(here's Isaac trying to catch the smoke from the candle)

Dada actually did get me a small, thoughtful, and unexpected gift -- a personalized heart-shaped coffee mug extolling me as the best mom in the world, with love from "Mike, Ike, and Jake". And then for the birthday coup de grace, Mamaw and Dadaw sat for the boys for one hour while Dada and I went for a DRINK. That's right, folks...I had an alcoholic beverage for my birthday. An $11 glass of single-malt that was so extremely tasty. It was my first alcoholic beverage since early last summer, and probably my last for several months, at least until the Jakester and I get a nursing routine down. But I'm allowed to cheat this one time because hey! It's my birthday!

Little green burrito

Here's what Jacob did this morning while Isaac and I played trains:

You know you work at a great place when...

Before I start, thanks to everybody who sent us flowers -- the Gages, the Novickis, and the Puleos.

This was delivered today -- it's a bouquet in a blue ceramic piggy bank!


The card with it:

Michael, Claire, and Isaac
Congratulations on the birth of
your son and new brother for
Isaac.
Enjoy all these special moments
Your Family in
The Geography Department

Awwww...

23 months old

My dearest Isaac-monster,

Today you are exactly one month from your second birthday. Where does the time go? I can still remember when it was just you and me and our all-day-long Play-Doh-fest. Oh, wait. That's because it was two weeks ago, before somebody else showed up and we became the Isaac + mommy + Jacob show.

This past month has been a big one for you; you became a big brother. In all ways, you have taken to this huge change better than I ever expected. At first, you were very excited, because it meant lots of visitors and extra attention for you. When we were at the hospital having your brother you stayed at your friend Ella's house, where you not only had Ella and her mom but also Ella's grandma and grandpa there to fawn over you. And while Ella is incredible and incredibly adorable, you are a walkin', talkin', attention-hoggin' machine. You were a big hit there, especially with Ella's grandma, who is a kindergarten teacher. I was told later that this woman, who obviously knows a little about early childhood development could not stop talking about how smart you are. "Did you see that?" she'd tell Ella's mom, "Do you know how smart he is to do/say that?" We get that a lot. You are basically a genius.

Not fifteen minutes after your brother was born, your father ditched him and me to get you, whom we had talked about incessantly while I was in agonizing pain. He brought you back to meet Jacob, and you pranced around the hospital (obviously having been coached in the car) telling the nurses "I big brudder!" They cooed over you, and told me it should be illegal for one woman to birth two such adorable boys. Then MeeMaw came, straight to the hospital from the airport, and you made her day screaming "MEE MAW!" as she entered the room. When we were home for Christmas less than three months ago you refused to give her a name; now you talk about her even when she's not here, as you also do about Papaw, Dadaw, and Mamaw.

When we brought your little brother home things were a little hairier. While you seemed marginally interested in him as a person, boring as he is now, it was obvious you were quickly realizing your role had been usurped. You threw a few temper tantrums a day and wouldn't eat anything except popcorn and Slurpees. You started chanting "boo-boo-boo" while sobbing, which was simultaneously annoying and pitiful. But you never once tried to beat up on Jacob, and even when you were slumped over on the floor bawling your eyes out I could get you to help me with Jacob's diaper changes (your job is to throw his dirty dipes in the trash can. You are very fastidious in identifying things that should be in the garbage).

Aside from being a new big brother, you are also quickly turning two before your time. You have several new favorite phrases:
"No mommy, that's mine!" (whether or not it actually IS yours)
"Wait mommy, come back!" (whether or not I'm going away)
"Want to watch Wiggles/Go outside/Play trains on the computer NOW!"

You are becoming the stereotypical bipolar "terrible-two"er: pitching a fit when we want you to do such terrible things as sit at the table and eat your dinner, and then turning around and singing us spontaneously made up songs on your guitar. You really aren't that hard to handle, though, and the things you do wow me in bigger and bigger ways. You've discovered how to sing. You like to sing to the Wiggles, in the bathtub, to yourself, to your guitar. You make up your own songs by naming stuff you see around the room, or even more astonishing, by looking at your bookshelf and then, without opening it, singing the contents of a book we read the night before. You have memorized lots of your books and can now "read" them to me; Ella's mom gave us their second copy of "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" and you had it memorized in a day. Every day after you are asleep, your father and I gush about how gorgeous you are, how sweet you are, how smart you are, and how every day with you brings something completely unexpected. I think that is my favorite part about you at this stage -- I never know what a day with you will bring, but I do know that each day will contain moments when I catch you doing something so amazing that it rocks my mommy world.

Love you,

Mommy

What heaven looks like for a mom of two under two

Picture this... you suit up both boys for a ride, jump in the car, and arrive at Dada's workplace to find that they have both fallen asleep in the less than five minutes we have all been in the car:

Look! We escaped the house!

Tonight was a big first -- Dada and I by ourselves took both boys out to a restaurant:


What did Isaac eat? Strawberries and tortilla chips. None of my quesadilla. And, when we got home, popcorn and cookies. Curiously, he continues to grow...

The night from h-e-doublehockeysticks

After two weeks of angelicness, Jacob has decided to awaken his inner colic. I exaggerate a little; he does have periods of wakefulness during the day when he is content to sit in his little chair and look around, especially at windows, lamps, or big brother. Then he has other periods where he fusses when held, bounced, sitting still, lying down, swaddled...you name it. My baby bible says it's perfectly normal for babies his age to have 15- to 60-minute periods of unexplained crying without having a baby who is qualifiably colicky. It is my hunch that he is a gassy man. He is pretty difficult to burp, but if you really whomp on his back after a feeding session you are almost always rewarded with a trucker-sized belch. And the farting, oh, it is of Olympic proportions.

Yesterday a combination of this perhaps-gassiness and sleeping all day led Jacob to stay awake, and nearly constantly fussing, from 11 until 3. Because I have the boobies, I automatically get nighttime Jacob duty. Let's just say I watched way too many dating shows on MTV to possess working brain cells any more. And then, just as Jacob finally gave up his vigil, Isaac woke up at 3. Luckily I have the greatest hubs ever, who has volunteered for Isaac nighttime duty for the foreseeable future. But poor Dada couldn't get Isaac to go back to sleep until 5, when us parents met in the kitchen to fix him a sippy of warm milk. Dada is sacked out on the couch now and has been since 8. He was unable to fall back asleep this morning and has had a loooooong day. Bless him, he let me sleep till 9:30.

I have higher hopes for tonight, since Isaac looked extremely exhausted from his anti-sleep vigil last night and Jacob spent a huge amount of time this evening awake already. Let's hope we're not in for many more nights like that, though, since we do need our Dada to not fall asleep while he's teaching his class.

Product raves

One nice thing about having Jacob is that people seem to want to give him luxury baby bath products. When I say "luxury", I mean "things not available during a Wal-Mart shopping experience." My mom gave Jacob a Burt's Bees Baby Bee sampler pack when he was still in utero. Though all self-respecting girls love Burt's Bees, and I had heard many raves about their diaper ointment, I had never tried it on Isaac. We have been a tried-and-true A&D family for our baby-butt protection needs, but I must say I like this new stuff. Baby Bee Diaper Ointment makes Jacob smell like his butt is a day spa, and works especially well for when my little stealth-pooper does his business in his sleep. If it can keep his burgeoning diaper rash at bay, I will be a convert. And it's on sale at drugstore.com!

Our friend Amy, member of the Professors' Wives Club and recently-made second-time mommy, gave Jacob some California Baby bubble bath as a "welcome to the world" present. Since Jacob is still possessing of his umbilical stump, he is currently banned from bubble baths...but his big brother is not. Isaac is crazy for bubbles, but has not been able to take bubble baths after a harsh run-in with some Mr. Bubble this past summer. Apparently conventional bubble baths irritate his sensitive underwater parts and make him scream in fear of the bath for days afterward. California Baby bubble bath does not, and again smells like a walk through an Aveda salon.

How about you? Does anybody else have any favorite baby indulgences?

Welcome to the world, Lily Grace!

Fellow mommy-blogger Jen and her family welcomed a brand-new baby girl on Thursday night. Now Jacob has a fellow Piscean to grow up with. Electronically, anyway. Congratulations!

Belated bloggy thank-yous

I would like to give a very overdue shout-out to my blog-homies who stalked me during my last days of pregnancy and/or announced Jacob's arrival on their blogs. Thank you, in no particular order, to the following people for their linky-love, and for making Jacob seem like the most popular kid on the block:

Erin at Tale of a Baby Human
Susie of Raising Liam
Jane of A Family of Moose in the Woods
Mrs. Flinger
Dawn of Jackaroo World
Jen of Jen's Periwinkle Place (who is probably holding her brand new baby girl right now...)
RBelle of Chatting Belle Style

I try!

Isaac has clearly entered the stage where if someone else is doing anything remotely interesting, he wants to give it a shot himself. "I try!" he says. Examples of things he wants to try:
*vacuuming with the dustbuster
*changing Jacob's diaper
*chopping vegetables (which he gets to do with his play utensils)
*carrying milk jugs (with close supervision)
*feeding the cat
*drinking a Starbucks latte

The latest installment of "I try!" came yesterday afternoon when I looked after the boys by myself for 2 whole hours. I am a relatively modest nurser, meaning that if my baby needs to eat in public you bet I am whipping it out for him, but I will be doing so under a huge blanket that covers him and any juicy bits from onlookers. When I'm at home, though, I prefer convenience to modesty. I figured Isaac wouldn't mind, since he's seen me in the shower countless times. But yesterday he saw his little brother going to town and was struck with inspiration.

Isaac: (watching Jacob nursing) What's he doing?
Me: I'm feeding Jacob a snack.
Isaac: I try! (swooping his head down towards the exposed boob)

I stopped him, told him that that was how Jacob eats and that Isaac eats big-boy food like Mom and Dad. "What to Expect" told me this might happen. They even suggest giving the older sibling a little nip, saying that he will likely be disgusted by the taste and never want to have anything to do with the boob again. Now that it is actually happening to me, though, I am thinking....um....NOOOOOOO. Isaac had his turn and it was fun, but he closed that book himself and I see no reason to reopen it. Also, and no offense intended whatsoever to long-term nursers out there, but now that he can ask for the boob it makes me uncomfortable to think about giving it to him.

Though my gut feeling in this was strong, I wondered if I was being a little harsh in banning Isaac from revisiting the boobie. Then a friend of ours stopped by with dinner for us this evening (thanks, Liles!) and shared with me a recent episode of Dr. Phil where a mom was on who was still nursing her oldest kids, who are 5 and 7 years old. Why? Because when they each saw their younger sibling (she also has a 3-year-old) nursing and got jealous or curious, she let them back on the boob, too. Yeah. We will not be starting down that path. And from now on I will be covering up when nursing at home.

Making it work, episode 1

Last week shortly after Jacob came home, Dada was struck with the stomach flu and a strained ankle and became temporarily useless, leaving me solely in charge of putting The Firstborn to bed. I had Grandma to help me, but Isaac seemed to fight her harder than he fights even me at bedtime, so I put Grandma on Jacob duty while I read Isaac bedtime stories and then used my special mommy tricks to keep him from launching out of his toddler bed. The only problem? Just as Isaac was falling asleep, Jacob woke up and started feenin' for the boob. I tried to escape Isaac's bedroom to feed The Secondborn, but then Isaac, who is incapable of falling asleep unless someone else is in the room with him, started some screaming of his own. I took Jacob into Isaac's room and started nursing him in the rocking chair there, but that aroused Isaac's ire all the more, as Isaac was commanded to stay in bed and not snuggle in the way that Jacob was allowed to do.

My genius-mommy solution?
1) Carry Jacob, attached to the boob, over to Isaac's bedside.
2) Plant my tushie next to Isaac's bed.
3) Cradling nursing nursling in both arms, crane my neck over Isaac's bedrail so he can run his fingers through my hair.
4) Watch both boys quickly fall asleep.
5) Attend to crick in neck later.