Shoving both of them in small places is just so cute

Jacob's first ride in a "car cart" at the wholesale club:

He loved it very much and far outlasted his brother, who is so over such chicanery.

Mama's new baby rickshaw, thanks to AnthonyCarlos and their periodic flood of barely-used hand-me-downs:

Ah, and the bare legs! It was close to 80 here today! We spent about 3-1/2 hours walking around barefoot at the park with the AnthonyCarlos gang. When we got home (at 3!) everyone was still awake, so I plopped them in our sexed up new stroller for a sleepy ride. It didn't work at all, but I did get my government-prescribed 20 minutes of exercise.

Jacob's biology at one year

Okay, so he's a little past one year, but I'm getting there. There's a lot to say. I'll break it up into several posts over the next few days. I'll need that much to tell you how mine and Dada's genes have mingled yet again to create genius incarnate.

First we'll cover his biology.

Monday before last we took him in for his one-year check-up. I freaked a little because his weight percentile keeps dropping. This time he weighed in at 23 lbs 15 oz, which put him in the 60th-ish percentile. Remember, dude used to be up at the 95th. Dr. M said that she was not worried because he was an early walker and is very active, and is otherwise growing healthily. Indeed, he is now 31-1/2 inches long (90th percentile) and his head, I forget exactly how big it is, but it's at the 80th percentile.

The real reason I was worried about his weight is that he is no longer the champion eater monkey he used to be. It's hard to know if that's because he is over his growth spurts, or if it's because I am sick and tired of fixing three completely different plates at each meal to satisfy him and my picky toddler, and in that respect may be slacking in providing them with enough nutritious food. What, you'll BOTH eat hot dogs? Hooray! Jacob usually loves pasta, but I think Isaac may be influencing him on even that because he didn't finish his baby-sized bowl tonight. To avoid fixing another completely different plate for Isaac, Isaac and I had a standoff, where after about 20 minutes of arguing I told him I would take away his new cars for the evening if he didn't try one stupid bite of pasta with marinara sauce. It was really, really hard not to laugh when he first licked some sauce off a farfalle noodle -- the exact same sauce I use to make his English muffin pizzas -- and then made a horrific face and wiped his tongue with his hands. Under diuress, he took the tiniest possible bite off of his butterfly pasta and then gagged and choked on it, as though it was a dog turd, before spitting it out. Awesome.

Back to Jake's appointment -- this was the first doctor's visit wherein he cried. Usually he's all party, all "Go ahead, ladeez, take a good look at the Nakey Jakey", even when Dr. M is doing her stethoscope and ear-inspection thing. But from naked start to naked finish, this time he fussed. To top it off, he got two shots -- three days after I took him to get his blood drawn to test his iron and lead levels. Apparently it's a Delaware thing, in that Delawareans enjoy poking babies as much as possible. All numbers were completely wonderful, which was almost reassuring enough to drown out the memory of his horrible, plea-ful cries at the blood-draw place.

I brought up his uncooperative stance on milk-drinking, and Dr. M helpfully told me to keep trying. Right now, he drinks maybe a few ounces a day. I've decided we're going to hold off on weaning until he gets over what appears to be some sort of overlapping baby torture of sinus colds and cutting molars. He doesn't nurse that much, only when it's time for sleep. He does eat cheese cubes and yogurt, so he is not without calcium of some sort. But overall I think the problem is that he might not like sippy cups. He does drink well from sippy-less kid glasses, but his "well" is limited to an ounce, maybe two, before it just becomes irresistible to pour the rest of the cup's contents onto the nearest hard surface. Better to splash Big Brother with, don't you agree? Anyway, there is one beverage for which he appears to have a bottomless appetite, and that is unsweetened iced tea, which he will chug from a glass or through a straw. No joke. It's actually really annoying because I can't have a glass at all without him lunging for it or pointing and shrieking "EH! EH!".

If any of you out there have children who eat and who drink their milk, all I can say is that you are possibly the luckiest people alive. And that I hate you with the righteous passion of a mommy watching her boys turn into string beans.

Perhaps the highest compliment a husband can give

Today I went to the eye doctor for the first time in seven years. We didn't have vision insurance in Seattle, so I would have had to pay for my own eye exams, but we did buy glasses in January of 2001. Six years and two babies using them as props later, my glasses were so trashed that they were literally falling off my face. Today I went to an optometrist who had an optical shop, and while I was waiting for her magical eyedrops to stretch my pupils unnaturally open, her frame-pusher lady tightened the screws in my glasses and replaced the now yellow-and-green nosepads in my current frames with fresh, non-skanky ones. Stupid girl -- now that my glasses feel brand new, why would I buy new frames from you? But I will tell the world about your awesomeness, and the awesomeness of your boss. If anyone is looking for an eye doctor in the University of Delaware area, Yvonne Kneisley is your lady.

Dada and Ryan took the boys to McDonald's while I was doing all this and came to pick me up on Main Street, amid a throng of bustling students, when I was done. As I made my way toward an intersection to meet up with George the Green Car, I felt really conscious of my appearance. All, and I do mean ALL, of the undergrad ladies here are totally smokin'. They are tan, and fit, wearing (gasp!) make-up, and, because the UD is semi-private, rich and dressing as such. And here am I, little ol' Claire, whose hair color the frame-pusher had the gall just now to describe as "mousy brown", who hadn't taken a shower (since Wednesday!), who had these total fashion-plate slip-in sunglasses on, courtesy of Dr. Kneisley. But I did have on a cute new shirt Dada picked out for my birthday and my skinny jeans.

After he picked me up in George the Green Car, our delightfully lecherous Dada grinned from ear to ear as he told me of a strange experience he had:
"I turned the corner onto Main and I noticed this chick running on the sidewalk. Of course I checked her out. I remember thinking that she had a really nice rack. I'll admit I stared at her boobs for an embarassing amount of time before I thought to see if her face was as easy on the eyes -- only to find out that 'this girl' was my wife."

See you in h, snow

It appears spring has finally sprung here in Dela-nowhere, after we got like 3 inches of snow last week. The forecast for the next few days? 60s all the way, baby. We celebrated at the park after playgroup.

Here are some BOYS enjoying the fantastically beautiful weather today. Note how they are no longer babies, and are both miraculously receptive to cheesing for the camera.


Here is Jacob rocking a snot bubble.



Back at home, here is Isaac with the only crocus in our yard that Dada didn't pull up, because he is a right mean git who thinks bulbs make his life hard.

A picture-perfect playdate

Last Friday we visited our homegirl Ella in her brand-new pad, the one her parents are the lucky owners of, for a playdate. The boys had lots of fun making a total mess of Ella's playroom. Ella, ever the commerce-conscious, entertained me by sharing her "credit cards" and suggesting I "sign here, please". I am not joking, and the girl is two.

As it was also my 28th birthday, we brought along cupcakes from the local bakery and I totally forced my birthday hand and made Isaac to sing to me. It's a good thing Ella's mom is cool and she didn't mind my bogarting the attention at lunchtime. She took a bunch of awesome pictures with her husband's digital SLR that she was so kind to share with me; please allow me to share them with you.

Happy birthday to Mommy. Maybe she'll get a shower for her birthday.


He of the Soulful Blue Eyes Who Shieth Not Away from the Camera:


No to pants, but yes to a hat:


He of the Severe Widow's Peak shows off his big-boy haircut:


Thanks to Sarah for the pictures, and for the life-sustaining blueberries.

A wean-a-way, version 2.0

I nursed Isaac for 13 months and expected, with his brother, to do the same. With Isaac, I was interested in seriously putting my foot down and not being one of those La Leche League poster children with a 5-year-old baby dangling from my boobs. Not that there's anything wrong with that...it's just not for me. And Dada and I in our goo-goo-baby-blind insanity had decided we needed another kid. I didn't get my period back until I started cutting back on the boob juice, when Isaac was 11 months old, so apparently nursing gets in the way of me ovulating. I found out I was pregnant with Jacob almost immediately after Isaac was completely weaned.

Isaac's transition from mommy milk to moo-cow milk went very smoothly, something I blame entirely on his day care. He was used to taking his breastmilk, at least a few hours a day, from a bottle or cup. Substituting one flavor for another didn't seem to faze him at all; as long as it was in his bottle, he was sucking it down like nothin' doing. He still drinks a gawd-awful amount of milk every day. Our pediatrician says to cut back, but she doesn't know, does she, how very little the child will actually eat. But that is another whiny yarn for another day.

Jacob has drunk from a bottle a grand total of two times in his entire life. I have tried recently giving him cow's milk in a bottle. He'll take a few noncomittal sips and then toss it off his high chair or, if he's on the move, ditch it, dripping, on the living room rug. He won't let me cuddle him while he drinks. He will, though, come up to me when fussing and try to lift up my shirt to get at the boob. While I have been totally cool with the few instances of flashing people that nursing has afforded me, I do feel uncomfortable with nursing when my baby is old enough to ask for it. Again, that's just me.

The main obstacle to going off the boob is his poor sleep, which I realize is probably a bit of a vicious cycle. Right now, we nurse usually twice a day during the day, both times to put him to sleep. I'm quite sure he needs milk for calories right now because, while he is fat, he is still a growing boy. So I oblige with the boobie milk, because it usually, conveniently, and silently knocks him out. The problems then become 1) that he is filled up enough with boobie juice to not require filling up with cow's milk, and 2) milk becomes less a source of nutritious calories and more an emotional beverage connected with a particular time and state of mind. If he has not been nursed and I try to put him to sleep -- via another method that works when he is awake but pumped full of boob, such as rocking him or watching TV with him -- he screams bloody murder and thrashes about until I give in and nurse him. If Isaac pulled this crap back in the day, it wasn't too much to deal with because it was just him. But if Jacob doesn't shut up and go to sleep when he ought, it is not only he and I that suffer, but also his big brother. So we continue to use our stupid little nursing-sleep crutch, and he continues to refuse all but a few sips of cow's milk.

Truthfully, I really don't care all that much that Jacob is nursing longer than Isaac did. I never have to nurse him in public anymore, and this time around, I am not interesting in conceiving another baby. With Jacob nursing twice a day (and twice through a typical night), I have still not had a period, which is awesome for so many reasons. What makes me uncomfortable, though, is that both he and I know that he's using the boob for a crutch when he could be learning to comfort himself. Right now he is going through a pretty tough time, getting over a bad cold and cutting four molars at once, so I am not making a move to remove his precious boobie from the table anytime real soon. But it is on my mind, and I'm not really sure how to convince him that cow's milk is really not so bad.

Reconnecting

I finished my book yesterday. You should really feel sorry for poor Dada, who had to listen to me saying "I think I'll finish it tonight!" for about 3 weeks straight. This experience taught me a valuable lesson, one that I will be likely to apply to all future writing endeavors: If it took 6 weeks to write a 1500 word book before, it will take longer than that to write an 8500 word book.

I thought the book would be behind me for a bit, but the manuscript was far more lengthy than it should have been. My editor already read through it and she said she enjoyed it (!) but wants me to AHEM cut back a bit on the verbal diarrhea. You wouldn't think *I* would have a problem with that, would you? And then as soon as that's done, I'm writing a third (shorter!) book whose deadline is already fast approaching. This writing business is fun, but it certainly keeps one's keyboard oiled and shiny. If I'm going to keep doing this, I should just start direct-depositing Dada's paycheck at my friendly neighborhood Starbucks.

In the meantime, the fellers are almost all better. A new cough just surfaced in Isaac a few nights ago, but I am combatting it with an awesome new tool -- this Thomas the Tank Engine humidifier I bought from drugstore.com. Luckily it appears that he is NOT getting his father's pneumonia, as his cough is fading fast. The Jakester is sporting three huge new teeth, with which he suffered dearly. I didn't think I remembered Isaac having quite so difficult of a time teething through his molars, but then I looked at Jacob's actual teeth. The poor fellow was so unfortunate to get his mother's gigantic horse-teeth, as well as the tricksy-shaped nose that deflects the light from a camera flash in abnormal ways. At least one stranger a day informs me that he is my spitting image, to which I say he could not possibly be because he makes my nose look cute.

Other than that, everyone is doing quite well. Isaac got a shorty-short big-boy haircut and looks like he's five. Jacob is so huge and is walking around so well he looks like he's two. And now that Jacob is getting around easily by himself and trying to talk up a storm, he and Isaac spend hilarious amounts of time entertaining each other. We went out for Bob Evans tonight to celebrate payday, and the entire trip home Dada and I were treated to a raspberry war emanating from the backseat...
Isaac: ppblft.
Jacob: PBLSDFTT!
Isaac: Hee hee! PGLBLBSDITTJTJFISdFRFT!
Jacob: Heh heh heh! PPPPPPPPPBLFLT!

Never did I think spitting would sound so precious. You people with girls...do you have this much fun? Little boy armies forever!

Jacob's birthday photoblog-nanza

I started this post, oh, three weeks ago. Here are some pictures to tide you over. Babies and Dada are much less sick, but because there are still teeth to cut, there is still NO SLEEPING and thus my book's still not done. RAWK! If these things (teething; books) are not finished by Monday morning I am totally shooting myself.

---

Flashing back to the weekend surrounding February 19th...

The blog sends birthday wishes to Jake:


Jacob's most important birthday present was the birthday people we imported from Indiana for him. Meemaw and Poppop, bless them, drove through some seriously sketchy winter weather to spend the weekend with us. We were so glad to have them, especially when the sleeplessness hit. Two out of three nights when they were here, Isaac woke in the night twice and Jacob woke up, like every 45 minutes. Turns out both of them were beginning a horrible snot infestation, and Jacob's top two first molars were cracking through his gums. Poor Meemaw got up in the middle of the night to help. Why don't we live closer to home again?

Despite the suffering, the show must go on. The night before we treated Jacob to a birthday shopping spree at Toys R Us, letting him pick out his own birthday presents, as was done for his brother before him with Mamaw and Dadaw.



He picked out some toys that are already huge hits with both fellers: an Elmo Sing-n-Learn activity table and a Fisher-Price singing Animal Train. I threw a big-pieced peg puzzle in the mix for him.

On his birthday morning we let him open the toys the UPS man brought him from Mamaw and Dadaw:
*a pull-along puppy
*stacking/nesting boxes
*Monster Bowling


Later on that afternoon the FedEx man brought another Mamaw and Dadaw present, a small ride-on horse:


For his birthday, we took Jacob to Red Robin, which is becoming something of a birthday tradition with us. Watch Jacob marvelling at the complete strangers singing to him...


... and then presenting him with his first sundae:


This was after he had coated himself in mac-n-cheese, hence the jaundiced look of his shirt. He was very weirded out by ice cream. I think he was not at all prepared for the coldness of it, and screamed in horror when he touched it or if it touched his lips. We'll work on that.

After we got home, we opened more presents from Meemaw and Poppop, and also from Great-grandparent Peetzes.
*a Laugh-and-Learn house
*an animal-themed huge-piece peg puzzle
*books

Birthday cake time -- another carrot cake decorated by Meemaw after being lovingly handcrafted and stuffed with whole wheat flour by the Mommy (but this time with no blood because a much wiser mommy used her food processor! They didn't give me that thar Ph.D. for nothin'!). Jacob helps himself. Another reaching hands suggests he might have picked that up from a friend.


Meemaw and Isaac with Jacob's new house:


Jacob also got an IKEA gift card from Aunt Jean and Uncle Chris that we have already waxed buying organizational stuff for his room. Aunt Robin, Uncle Joe, and Jacob's cousins sent him this awesome squishy fabric garage thing with four cars and four little caves for them to hide in. It is fabulous and the boys fight over it every day. Thanks everybody! For once in his short little life he got to be the center of attention, and though I think he was a bit weirded out by that, he certainly enjoyed himself.

Wills are not in force just yet

I haven't been posting because we have been in a state of crisis since Meemaw and Poppop left last Tuesday. Starting last Monday, on Jacob's birthday, all menfolk in my house contracted a noxious respiratory illness that resulted in copious rivers of snot, coughing, general evilness, and of course, sleeplessness. For Isaac, this was also accompanied by bedwetting. So awesome. But thinking it was just a virus, I kept everyone away from the doctor's office, letting Dada fall asleep on the couch at 6 pm every night with his horrible chest pain, until Wednesday night when Dada told me he was either going to the ER or to the doctor first thing the next morning.

Thursday everyone went to their respective doctors. Other than the coughing and snot-rivers, the boys had nothing wrong with them, no ear infections or chest congestion, but since they had suffered for 10 days I choked on my Biochemistry Ph.D. and begged their doctor for amoxicillin. She obliged. Dada, on the other hand, was diagnosed with walking pneumonia by his doctor. You know it's bad when the doctor tells you your lungs sound horrible, and then is beside himself when you tell him you've been at work all week.

Twelve hours after the first dose of antibiotics, everyone is markedly improved. The snot-tide has stemmed completely, and there is decidedly less coughing (and thus also more sleeping). Dada is able to move around without complaining, though he still sounds like his sinuses have only begun to drain.

Through it all, I have remained almost completely well. Maybe a stuffy nose or headache every other day, but that's it. I credit my wellness entirely to my children's book. By this I mean that I am staying up so late working on it, till 3 or 4 in the morning every day this week, that I reckon I am making my body an untasty host for infectious organisms. Before you nag me about taking better care of myself (Mother, I am talking to YOU), please note that I was always one of those flashlight-under-the-covers kids growing up. The sleeplessness sounds brutal, but I am having great fun writing the book because it's what I love to do. And you'd be amazed how easy it is to forget that you only got three hours of sleep after drinking half a gallon of iced tea a day. On top of two cups of coffee. And a grande americano.

These two things, the playing the part of Florence Nightingale O'Neal and the book-writing, are why I haven't been blogging. I probably won't blog again until after I'm done with the book sometime in the next week, which makes me feel horribly guilty because I have all these pictures of Jacob's birthday that are going unposted as of yet. But you will see them. Oh yes. We will be back with lots of fun O'Neal boy stories soon...Did I mention Isaac pees standing up now? And Jacob says "car"? And there are mice living in our master bedroom wall?