This is a long and rambling post, one that probably isn't all that interesting unless you're me or Jim or our children's grandparents. But I don't scrapbook. And I don't journal (reliably). So, it seems that writing things down here is my best chance at remembering this time in our lives. I know that even a few years from now, my memories of these months will be hazy. I feel like I'll certainly remember the laundry that never ends, the dishwasher packed full-to-the-gills, the minivan littered with apple slices and carrot sticks, the house that is never really, fully clean, the feeling of never being entirely rested. (Sleep? What's that?) Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. But what I
want to remember are the little things about these little people that make me smile, the glimpses into the people they're becoming. What I want to remember is the
joy of watching them grow.
February was a big month for Luke. He has gotten much stronger, thanks to plenty of practice sitting in the Bumbo.
Luke perfected his smiling and branched out into full-fledged laughing. He also honed his rolling skills. That child can roll. He prefers to be on his stomach, whether for playing or (much to Mama's chagrin) sleeping. If laid on his back, Luke immediately flips onto his belly. No kidding -- he's fast! He already shows signs of skooching (that's a technical term -- and one that I can't spell), heaven help us.
And, much to Kathleen's dismay, Luke has begun grabbing. Mostly toys and burp cloths (he loves to chew on those!) and -- more than occasionally -- hair.
February has been a big month for John David, too. As always, he's kept us on our toes. For example, there was the morning that I left him to play at the sink... and turned back to find him
in the sink.
Or the day we discovered that John David does not understand the ground rules for using dot markers.
Or the afternoon he un-potted my remaining tomato plants. And apparently attempted to eat the potting soil...
In more, well, positive news, John David made huge language gains this month. He's talking more and more clearly and more and more frequently. He's using new words and new phrases every day. Honestly, the child is a little parrot. He'll repeat almost anything. (I'm glad we don't curse! He does say, "rats," though.) He begs to read books. It brings me great joy to have my non-stop boy snuggled up against me listening to a story. It's hard to limit him at bedtime; he'd read for hours if you'd let him. Current favorites include
Boom Boom Go Away (which I don't really even like, since the child tells his parents to go away, but which John David adores),
No, David! (we theorize that he believes the story is actually about him) and Dr. Suess'
ABC.
One of John David's best phrases is "thank you" (though he renders it more like "ganku"). He uses it almost more consistently than his older sisters. In fact, I sometimes joke that there are days when it's what keeps me from completely giving up on him! Also, John David rarely says yes. Like most almost-two-year-olds, he loves "no." But when he is inclined to say yes, he always says, "Sure!" He'll repeat rapidly and loudly his version of the word for whatever he desires. You'll spend several minutes puzzling through his meaning, finally repeat what you think he's asking, and he'll respond, "Sure!" as if to say, "Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but now that you mention it, that sounds fine."
He also loves to dance. He dances like his ballerina sisters, arms stretched over his head. And one afternoon when we were all dancing along to the Weepies (I Was Made for Sunny Days), I threw in some snapping. John David couldn't get enough! He joined right in, wiggling his fingers and making clicking noises with his tongue.
John David's climbing escapades continue. This month he discovered how to climb out his crib. One evening when Jim came home during the post-dinner, pre-bed bathtime rush, John David was enduring a timeout in his crib. While Jim and I conversed in the hall, John David suddenly ran right by us. Whoops! Mercifully, he hasn't escaped at bedtime or naptime. Perhaps he knows that might send me over the edge.
Basically, the child is living up to his nickname. He's all Indiana Jones. And it doesn't hurt that he's got the jacket and the hat to prove it.
The girls continue to adore their littlest brother. They hold him and snuggle him and kiss him every chance they get.
In other news, our snail collection has doubled. Katherine and James have been joined by Kathleen and Similar. Kathleen named her snail after herself. Similar is technically Madeline's snail, and she's named after Madeline's doll. Both Madeline and Kathleen received princess dolls this Christmas -- Kathleen's is blonde and Madeline's is brunette. Otherwise, they look, well, similar. And that's why Madeline named her doll Similar. Why she wanted to name her snail after the doll she sleeps with remains a mystery. I suppose it's no stranger than naming a garden snail after yourself.
Madeline claims to have bad dreams lately. She creeps down the stairs about 45 minutes after she and her sister have gone to bed, when Kathleen is already sleeping soundly. "Mama, Daddy," she whispers, "I had a gary [scary] dream." When she gets to the bottom we ask what happened in the scary dream. "Um," she begins, "There was a..." Her eyes dart around the room, coming to rest on the lamp. "A light! And it was chasing..." Another pause while she looks around, clearly seeking inspiration. "A table. It was scary." We know it's not true, but we let her sit with us a moment and then tell her it's time to go back to bed. "So," she says, grinning, "I had another bad dream. There was a..." We know it's naughty, but it's awfully cute.
Kathleen learned a table blessing at preschool, sung to the tune of Frere Jacques. It's the children's favorite grace now. They all sing it -- even John David. But Madeline recently became sad that she didn't have her "own" prayer. (We call the blessing "Kathleen's school prayer" for lack of a better name.) We offered up the doxology, which the children all enjoy singing. Madeline rejected that, though, because she wanted it to be "hers." Ever a problem solver, she made up her own. She will now sing her prayer at every opportunity. She simply sings "everybody loves God" until we prompt her to stop with an Amen. Her theology might be a bit lacking, but we love her heart.
Kathleen is fascinated by science. She and her classmates have done some "experiments" at preschool, which Kathleen has absolutely loved. Jim and I have watched (carefully screened) Nova episodes with her, and she will sometimes ask to watch a "special science show." She'll often tell us as she's running around playing that she's trying to figure something out: "I'm being a scientist!"
She loves her "alone time" with me each day, when the other children are still napping. That's when we work on her reading (we're working through the BOB books very, very slowly) or watch a science show or cook (too dangerous with John David around!) or sometimes just talk. She guards the time jealously. I hope she'll always love it that much!
Perhaps the most fun this month has been watching the girls and John David play together. They work out elaborate imaginative scenarios and seem to enjoy directing John David's intermittent participation. In many ways, they love the same things: books and bubbles and the playground and treats. Watching them run around together in a little gaggle, laughing and playing makes my heart full. It's not idyllic by any means; I mediate more than my fair share of disagreements. But it's that togetherness that I love. And that's what I'd like to remember this month.
