On purpose? Why yes, yes it was.

Everyone who has ever been pregnant - and everyone who has ever had the obligation to listen to a pregnant chick bitch about being pregnant - knows that for some reason people have no filter when it comes to pregnancy.   (Actually, I've come to realize that this same phenomenon applies to people's filters with respect to children too, but that's an issue for another day.)  During my pregnancy with Joe, people mostly said to me "Wow, you look way too small to be that pregnant!"  At the time, annoying - in retrospect, pretty awesome, right?  Let's just say I never once got that comment when I was pregnant with Ian.

But, during my Ian pregnancy, the filter-less comment was, without fail: "Oh my, you are having them so close together!  Was it on purpose??" (or variations on that theme).  Really, I don't think there was one person I came across during my pregnancy who did not, in some way, shape, or form, ask me this question.  The majority of you were just curious, and meant nothing by the comment - and actually, most of the time, that's how I took it.  I am definitely aware that I had my boys close together, and I was acutely aware of this while I was pregnant, so it was usually okay for well-meaning people to inquire.  But there were, of course, any number of people whose comment came with a condescending facial expression or snide remark (my personal favorite: "You guys must not have figured out what was causing this problem, heh heh!"), and whose comments were not meant in good fun.  All of you pregnant chicks, recently pregnant chicks, or spouses-to-a-preggo understand the difference here.

So, condescending facial expression givers and snide comment makers, this post is addressed to you.  Why did I have my kids so close together, you wonder?  Because I wanted to.  My boys are starting to play with each other, and, just as I'd suspected, it's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen.  They already love each other - Joe has adopted the big brother role with relish, and it's astonishing to see how much Ian already idolizes, follows, copies, and watches Joe.   One of Ian's favorite things to do is to be in his walker and follow Joe around all over the house, for basically his entire awake period of the day.  And Joe has recently busted out his old ride-on toys, which have been collecting dust in the corner for about 6 months now, so that he and Ian can race around and play together.  It's adorable.

Sometimes when Ian is taking a nap and John and I are just hanging out in the house with Joe, I get a feeling for how lonely it would be without Ian around, for us and for Joe.  I grew up with a brother very close in age and a house full of kids, all the time, until the day I moved out to go to college.  I wouldn't trade that for the world, and, without even fully realizing it at the time, it was exactly the feeling I wanted to give Joe (and my future kids) when I was so gung-ho about having Ian quickly after having Joe.

I know several of you will have a thought to the effect of: "Yeah it's cute now, but just wait until the constant fighting starts!"  But you know what?  The fights and nit-picking are some of the best parts of it, for the kids at least.  I'm sure I'll want to pull my hair out.  But they will have fun, and memories - just like I do about my family.  In fact, my dad wrote this post about this exact subject matter.  I think I can venture to say that it was one of his favorite things that he did with respect to his family - he and my mom were the orchestrators (yep, probably made that up) of a family that would be full of fun, happiness, and love without them.  So, yes, I had them close together on purpose, and I am very, very happy I did.

Big Boy Bed

Eh hem.  I'm going to casually skim over the fact that it's been a long, long time since I posted and just dive right in.

Joe got a big boy bed for his birthday a couple weeks ago.  And not just any big boy bed - a Buzz Lightyear rocketship bed.  He.  Loved.  It.

The look on his face at the beginning of this video was worth all the effort to put this ridiculous thing together!  (I can say that because John put the whole thing together, whilst I sat on the couch and watched tv.)
 

 

More posts to come - there's a lot to be updated!  Baby Cameron is finally here, Joe is done with speech therapy, Ian is almost mobile...you're pumped.   I know, I know -- I'm glad I'm back, too.

Look Who's Talking!

As of a few days ago, Joe's been in speech therapy for about three months.  Remember back when I said that one day soon hopefully I'd be posting videos of him babbling away?  Well, here you go.  Check out his truly fantastic progress. 

This will work best if it's in context, and you're a little prepared on what to listen for (we're still working on intelligibility, but he's not even two yet, so I'm still dang impressed!).  My mom and sister took Joe to the zoo a few days ago, and he can't stop talking about the animals - especially the tiger:

Animals are a thing lately.  Lindsay taught him all the animal sounds - here are a few:

And he loves to talk about his friends at school - Alexis and Gage are his favorites.  His teacher's name is Ms. Zakea.

Since Charlie's very into all of Joe's new Christmas toys, Joe has also gotten pretty good at "No Charlie!":

No talking in this last one, but the dancing was just too cute.

Okay, enough with the annoying braggy parent videos.  I'm just so proud of him for coming such a long way in such a short time!  Nice work, Joe!

A Pink Shower for Once!

My brother is having a baby in a few weeks.  Well, to be technical, my brother's wife is having a baby in a few weeks (if she's gonna do all the work, she definitely deserves all of the credit).   

A few things to know about Val that will probably make you understand her a bit better, if you don't know her already.  One: She loves all things sparkly.  Like, a lot. She would probably murder anyone for a bedazzler (right, Val?).  Two: She is so refreshingly sweet, fun, and happy.  On her wedding day, as the preacher was saying "I now pronounce you man and wife," Val was standing up at the altar bouncing.  Literally, bouncing. With joy.  How awesome is that?  And she was marrying my brother, of all people.  Think how happy she would be if she was marrying someone who wouldn't drive her completely nuts for the rest of her life, especially during commercial breaks of Inspector Gadget??  Three:  She is a fantastic friend.  Just read this to see (to put that in perspective, my dad wrote it the day he found out Val was pregnant).

So, in 38 days, Val's gonna be popping out an adorable baby girl.  Her name's Cameron, and based on her completely squished up face in the sonogram photos, she looks just like her dad.

I am SO. OUTRAGEOUSLY. EXCITED.  I have another niece named Emily (John's sister's daughter) who was born just under 3 months ago.  She's pretty awesome.  Ian's already punched her a few times, and she took it like a champ.  Her dad should be proud; she has a seriously strong chin.  Anyway, I have to admit -- I thought having Emily around might make me slightly less excited about Cameron, since I would get out some of that bug for girl shopping that all moms of boys have.  But, for reasons I can't explain, having Emily around has actually made me more excited about Cameron.  I just love that there are finally some girls to dote on for a change!

Anyway, a couple of weekends ago, some of Val's closest friends hosted a baby shower for her and Cameron.  Fantastic job hosting, both Nikki Parises! (Parises?  Does that work?)  Check it out.

Pretty great spread.  And you can't even see all the gifts piled up on the side!

Great desserts, ladies. 

 Some fun girly clothes.  Love me some polka dots on a baby grrl.

And she'll be gameday ready, too! 

Oh em gee.  This DRESS!  She will be the cutest girl to ever exist ever ever ever.  Nothing could be cuter.

Okay, except these Stuart Weitzman baby shoes.  Whaaa??  Who even knew these existed?!  Startin' a girl off right! And the have leopard print inside.  Ridiculous.

Just had to get in this side view of the bump.  Sorry, Val, everyone expects to see the baby at the baby shower.

 

Awesome owl hat, Val!  Who got that for Baby Cam?  Probably someone who loves Etsy lots and lots, yes?  I better see some cute pictures of my niece wearing that contraption!

The Kanes can't wait for baby Cameron to make her appearance, Aunt Val!  And you know what the best part is?  Once she comes out, you won't be pregnant anymore!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy belated Thanksgiving from Joe, the kid for whom the holiday was made.  Exhibit A.

[Please forgive me for posting this, Future Joe!]

Some Love for Ian

I realized the other day that most of my posts are about Joe.  The only post lately about Ian was that he isn't sleeping (which he still isn't, really).  Sorry Ian!  You're just too much of a sweetheart -- Joe's antics usually way trump yours. 

Anyway, this post is all about you, littler kiddo.  "Littler" is definitely key, cause there is no measure by which you are "little."  At your four month appointment last week, you weighed in at almost 16lbs 15oz--almost two full pounds bigger than Joe was at that age.  Which I thought was impossible.  You're off the charts long, and only barely on the charts heavy.  Your weight and height were the weight and height of an average eight month old baby.  Wowza, buddy.

As you can tell from this picture, you look ridiculously like your Uncle Matt.  You're all Lavalley, for better or for worse.  Goes well with the middle name, right? 

See this one-socked look you're rockin' in this photo?  That's because you always like to kick that leg out of your swaddle at night.  It's not cool enough yet for full-on footie pajamas, so this is your dad's solution: one socked foot and one non-socked foot.  It may not be the most fashionable look, but at least your toes are warm. 

You're teething, as the excessive amount of drool in this super out-of-focus picture is meant to show.  This is what happens when mom trusts her camera to dad.  He also promised that I was not in this picture at all when he took it??  Anyway, no little white buds yet, but you chew on anything and everything, all the time, and you drool buckets.  Oh, and you still have a mohawk.  Weird.

One of your favorite pastimes is to hang out on the bed every morning while Joe eats his breakfast (and Charlie stalks you guys for any unmanned food particles).  Joe makes sure to re-plug that binky whenever it falls out.  He is outrageously attentive to you.  Every time he comes into a room from a nap or from being out of the house, the first thing he does is find you and check on you to make sure we haven't negligently killed you while he was away.  He loves to give you hugs and kisses, and every time he finds anything of yours out of place, he brings it to us and says "Ian!  Ian!  Ian!".

You've rolled over all the way a couple of times (yay!), but usually you only get halfway and get stuck on your arm.  See.

They say babies your age don't have allergies, but you are definitely the exception that proves that rule.  Your piping upstairs is just not awesome.  Every early morning since you were about 4 weeks old, you have had terrible congestion that wakes you up and makes you very, very pissed.  I think this problem contributes to your less-than-desirable sleep patterns.  We use saline drops and the sucker (a baby version of the netipot, which will change your life once you're old enough to use it), but you still had boogers the size of Alaska clogging up your nostrils every morning.  The next thing we're trying is the half raised up crib.  I really, really hope this works, cause the 5:00am booger hunt is growing a little old.

It may not look like much of an incline, but it's clearly doing something, since two mornings in row you may have, eh-hem, tumbled down to the bottom by that giraffe.  But hey, if it leads to less congestion and more sleep, you're okay with a little tumbling, right?  Right.

Dad and I can't believe how fast you're growing up.  We're so happy to have you around, even though having two of you under two can get pretty fiesty at times.  You're as easy and fun and happy as you could be, so thank you for doing your part to make our lives a little easier.  Love you, Cutepie!

Ouch.

You parents out there know that most of the first couple of years of having a baby basically involves waiting for them to have all their baby "firsts."  The first time they hold their head up, first time they roll over, first time they pee on you, first time they sleep through the night...just imagine any activity you could possibly perform throughout the day, except maybe blinking and breathing, and there's probably some mom out there who noted the first time their baby did that activity in the baby book (or the baby blog). 

As a parent, you're usually eagerly anticipating all of these firsts--in my case, mostly because I was shamed into thinking they should happen earlier than they did because of the silly questionnaires I had to fill out at every doctor's appointment.  But a "first" that every parent knows is inevitable but that they are definitely not eagerly anticipating: baby's first trip to the emergency room!  yay! 

Look, Joe is almost 2 years old.  That's 24 months.  John and I used to joke that we felt like we were successful parents if we didn't have to make a trip to the ER before he was 18 months old.  So, by my math, we are officially successful parents.  Unfortunately, I definitely did not factor in myself being the cause of the accident that sent us there.  One thing about being a mom (as opposed to a dad, nanny, grandma, or other non-mom caregiver) is that you think you do everything related to your kid right, and everyone else could really benefit by just watching what you do a little closer, cause you are just so awesome.  I mean, I'm not saying this isn't still true for 99.99% of things out there, cause again, I'm just super awesome at momming.  But I guess causing your kid an injury that requires an ER trip means you've officially lost the argument that you do literally everything better.

So here's the sitch.  Joe likes to watch morning cartoons after he wakes up but before Lindsay gets here.  Ian likes to lie down on his back and look up at me super cutely after he wakes up but before Lindsay gets here.  I need to get my hair straightened for work (otherwise I'd bear an eerily resemblance to a young Albert Einstein) after the kids wake up but before Lindsay gets here.  The only way these three things can get done efficiently and with the least amount of tantrums, fussing, and tears: all of us perform these various activities on the bed together.  Unfortunately for all, and especially Joe, Yo Gabba Gabba (last Thursday morning's cartoon) has a "dancey dance" segment that he likes to imitate -- which involves, you guessed it, twirling, jumping, dancing, and bouncing all around on the bed.  So I set the straightener down for .0234187284 milliseconds to stick the binky back in Ian's mouth, and in that teeny weeny timeframe, of course, Joe manages to fall down directly onto the 450 degree Chi.  Yikes.

Full-on family panic ensues.  I yell, John runs in from the bathroom, and Ian starts crying--basically, chaos.   But Joe didn't do anything more than make a tiny frowny face of displeasure, and grunt at us for getting in the way of the TV.  This lack of reaction worried me and John more than anything else, because we both know that burns hurt.  So why wasn't he acting like it hurt?  Of course, Google confirmed our fears (because Google can confirm any fear, as long as you use it right), and we read that third degree burns have associated nerve damage that would make the burnee not feel any pain at first.  And we read that both second and third degree burns require immediate medical attention.  So we headed to the hospital. 

The rest is uneventful.  Burn was second degree, so no permanent damage done (other than a super awesome and manly scar).  We were out of the hospital within the hour, and Joe was all bandaged up and given the stamp of approval to do whatever he felt like doing at home.  Since then, Joe has not acted in any way like the burn was causing him trouble.  Mostly he just likes to play with the bandage and hold his arm out to people who ask what happened.  And we learned two new words out of it: "burn" and "boo boo."  Success?

He's only crying here because he was afraid of the machine the registration lady brought in to check us out.  Seriously.

So, all in all, no big deal.  But a few takeaways:

1.  Not all minor injury emergency room trips are created equal.  I totally expected having to run him to the hospital because he banged his head on the cement and needed a few stitches, or he jumped off the couch and broke his collarbone.  I did not expect to take him to the emergency room for a second degree burn injury.  Does the type of injury really matter?  Probably not.  But for whatever reason, the "burn" part of this was hard for me.  To me, stitches and broken bones are a normal part of childhood.  Burns are not.  To me, burns come from totally avoidable neglectful parenting, not unavoidable crazy kid stuff.

2.  Burns actually are a normal part of childhood.  I realize I just said the exact opposite.  But the other day I heard so many stories of people getting burned accidentally as kids, or people's siblings getting burned, or people's cousins getting burned, that I guess it's just something that happens.  You all know that toddlers get into everything.  It's really hard to be 100% hyper vigilant all day every day.  That doesn't make those random neglectful moments okay, I guess, but it makes the few times where things do go wrong seem more accidental than negligent (boom, lawyered).

3.  Other parents are very helpful people to have around when you've been a part of some less-than-stellar parenting experience.  I can truthfully say that every single parent I talked to first asked if Joe was okay, and when it was clear that he was fine, they immediately asked me how I was holding up.  Every single one.  Lindsay, my work neighbors, my family members - everyone.  This was, for some reason, unreasonably touching to me.  Maybe because I was beating myself up for letting him get hurt.  But if any of you are reading this, thank you, truly, for asking.

Joe's burn is fine, and I am fine too.  Don't worry, I'm not beating myself up as much as this post seems like I am.  I just wish I hadn't been the cause of my baby's first major injury.  Sorry, Future Joe!