Pook My Pooka

This is what I have to say about the Pookster today:

He's cute.  Darn cute.

And it's a good thing sometimes too.

His cuteness softens my heart when he is being obstinate.

He is independent.  Or he wants to be independent -at everything.

This means, for the most part, he will not be fed any longer.  He insists on feeding himself.

MESSY.

Sometimes he is so independent that he refuses to be carried, though this usually expresses itself when he wants to go in an opposite direction.

He is an explorer and an adventurer.  

He even put a live worm in his mouth last week.

He loves being outdoors.  

He is in constant need of a bath.

He is so curious and always always always getting into something and almost always destroying something.  Ahh but I love him anyway.

He communicates.

He follows directions really well.

And when he doesn't, you can tell he still understands because he will shake his whole body "no" or give you an angry little grunt accompanied by a menacing face.

But mostly, he follows directions.

He can also say some things.

Please. Yes. No. Dada.  Ball.  Dog.  Drink.  That.  Jesus.

For anything he can't say with words, he's pretty good at gesturing for.

We know what he means.

Most of the time.

I am seriously thinking about making him wear a helmet.

This kid is accident prone.  Like nothing I have ever seen.

It's scary.

He hits his head at least once a day.

He is constantly getting new marks and bruises on his head.

Today, he hit his head (and not lightly) four times that I remember, but it's such a common occurrence that I likely don't remember some.

Quick story from today's head bumping events:  He likes to try on hats and look at himself in the mirror.  We own quite the assortment of hats and their home is a set of hooks hanging right next to a full length mirror.  He especially likes this straw "safari hat".  And he likes to put it on so that it covers most of his face and then try to navigate his way around the apartment.  I don't encourage this behavior, but sometimes he is doing it before I know to stop him.  And today he made it across the kitchen before walking into a cabinet. 

He can fold his arms during prayers, but will still wander around with his arms folded.

He can make it all the way through church now without desperately needing a nap.

2.5 more months until he's old enough for Nursery.

His favorite people are Nolan and Grandma.

He is a magnet for Grandma.  Even from across a room.

He likes to cuddle and hug her.  

He plays with Nolan.  They tickle each other.  They copy each other and laugh a lot.  They like to play under the covers on my bed.  Needless to say, Gerret wants to do everything Nolan does.  

And now I'm tired, so that is all.  

In summary:  The Pookster is all grown up (or at least he thinks he is) and he keeps me on my toes.  It's good to be his mom.  

Relishing a Fleeting Moment

We've been having weather unlike the typical late-April-in-NY weather.  I mean, it hasn't been snowing!  Amazing!  We have been enjoying it (though I missed my run Saturday because of something like heat stroke).

....

....

So today, the 3 of us are outside enjoying it, Nolan drawing with sidewalk chalk on his plastic slide, Gerret and I reading books in the smidgen of shade provided by Nolan's slide.

Side Note:  The problem with 90 degree weather in April is the lack of leaves on the trees and therefore shade for ladies who suffer from heat stroke in temperatures above 80. 

Nolan is busy at work.  He has already practiced his slide drawings earlier this morning (he likes to draw a little, then slide down to erase with his shorts.)  But this time, there is no erasing.  I can tell this will be a masterpiece.  He positions his tongue in the corner of his mouth and determinedly furrows his brow.  Pure Concentration.  

We're reading Green Eggs and Ham, one of Nolan's favorites, but not so much Gerret's.  I can tell he's only half listening as his eyes scan the yard for something to get into or destroy.  But I've come to appreciate Green Eggs and Ham myself, so I keep on reading.  Loudly.  I'm trying to keep Gerret's attention so he doesn't take off.

Instantly, Nolan breaks from concentration and yells over my loud reading:  Mama!  Say:  Go Nonoy! Go Nonoy!

I do a little cheer for Nolan, clap, tell him he's doing a wonderful job, then go on reading, Not on a train, Not in tree, Not in a car, Sam.... but I guess I need to work on my cheerleading, because Nolan interrupts again to ask me to actually get up and see the masterpiece while cheering a second time.

I do this and am suddenly overcome with gratitude for the chance to spend my days with these two little wonders and especially grateful for requests to say, Go Nonoy! Go Nonoy!

Potty Treats

Far in advance of potty training, I started to think about it and perhaps even worry about it.  So, I did some research and got a short and simple bit advice:  Provide rewards for the desired result, not the mode of arrival.  Desired Result = Dry Diaper (and eventually pants).  Mode of Arrival = Using the Potty.  

I put this information into storage in the back (deep dark cave) of my mind.   And that was that until it was time to try for real (we did try half-heartedly once a few months ago, but he wasn't ready and we weren't at all committed).   

This month was the real deal.  I got the Potty Treats from the store.  Nolan came.  He was excited.  I put them in a special jar.  He was really excited.  And then I chickened out of rewarding the Desired Result, fearing that Nolan wouldn't understand or that it would just frustrate him.  So, Potty Treats became the reward for using the potty.  One jelly bean (always orange) per potty usage.  Then, as if to make up for my not following the short and simple advice, I sheepishly added the clause: And if you have a dry diaper you get 2 Potty Treats.

Now my wise 2 year old uses the potty all day long to get the treats.  You're thinking: Great!  Then it worked.  What silly advice to reward the result.  Potty Treats should be for using the potty.  

Ahhh... but that's not the end of the story.  

My wise 2 year old only uses the potty to get the treats.  He is not concerned with having dry diapers and he even started to abuse the system; letting a little out in the potty (getting at treat) and coming back to let a little more out (getting a treat) and so on and then doing the rest in his diaper (I guess when he had enough jelly beans).

To remedy this situation (before I run out of orange jelly beans), I'm going to go buy a more enticing treat (bite sized candy bars??  popsicles? cookies? I haven't decided) and sheepishly amend the rules again: One Potty Treat for using the potty and One Extra Special Super Duper Potty Treat for having a dry diaper before using the potty.  I haven't thought of all the ways this could backfire, but I guess I'm going to find out.

My Wise Son

Brotherly Love

Generally, I am the only one who sleeps in around here and that only happens on weekends when PTB doesn't work.

But for some reason, Gerret has determined to change things up and has slept in every day this week. I don't know if it's because he's sick or teething or growth spurting or if playing outside is really that exhausting. Whatever the reason, he's been sleeping 'til 9 every morning. And Nolan, who wakes up around 7
and can hardly stand a moment without his brother,
immediately asks for Pooka and continues to inquire every twenty or so minutes until Pooka debuts. This morning was no different, except at 9 when Gerret still had not even stirred (after breakfast, we played blocks loudly in the room directly under Gerret's to send him a hint-but the hint was not received) Nolan decided he had had enough. He announced that he would go upstairs to get Baby Pooka, to which I replied, "Please don't wake up your brother". I made my plea in vain, because mid-phrase I could already hear Nolan running down the upstairs hallway on his way to Gerret's door, which he tore through, promptly shouting, "WAKE UP BABY!!!"
It's a good thing Gerret is always happy to see Nolan, because I, for one, would not answer kindly to such a rude awakening.

Three Boys

Here are a few pictures of my boys.

This is the stone marking the graves of my great great great grandparents, or my grandmother's great grandparents.

This is Gerret doing what he does best -just being crazy. 

Playing trains(Nolan) and just being wild (Gerret).

Abbreviation of Two Weeks

This is how it was:

General Conference Weekend. We watched all sessions in the comfort of our living room. Except for when we were in the kitchen, then we watched it in the kitchen. The connection in the kitchen was about 2 minutes ahead of the one in the living room, so upon switching rooms, we either lost two minutes or re-viewed the past 2 minutes. Watching General Conference is becoming easier as the boys become more independent (other than the moments when they independently disappear up the stairs or out the front door, but we got smart and blocked the living room exit).

Tuesday following Conference. My grandparents arrived back in NY from their 6 months in Florida. Nolan remembered them from the get-go. As soon as he saw my grandpa, he took off running towards him to give him an enormous hug. Gerret wasn't sure what to make of Nolan's reaction to these strangers, but now he's warming up. It's so good to have them back again.

Saturday before Easter. We had planned on going to the egg hunt in Jacksonville.

The same one that my brother and I went to every year of our childhood in the Jacksonville churchyard. Well, I heard last minute that it was changed this year to a new fancy schmancy mini golf course done the road from said church. And, unlike the olden days at the church, I guess they actually advertised this event throughout the Upstate region. It was a zoo. Not the quiet little egg hunt I remember. So we turned around and went home and with our friends, the Broadheads, did our own egg decorating/ egg hiding/ egg hunting. Nolan was more interested in the contents of the eggs than finding them, so he asked to go in early. After the hunting festivities were over, I found him, drooly-chocolate-faced, surrounded by opened plastic eggs

and candy wrappers. Funny little candy fiend.

Easter. Hmmm. Perhaps my favorite holiday. We went to Church. I even got to attend Relief Society. And then we went to my Aunt and Uncle's in Canandaigua for dinner. It was all so nice. Gerret almost ruined it by screaming for the first 40 minutes of our drive home, but then he fell asleep and he is so cute as
leep, so I forgave him.
Last week. Spring Break. This means that for three of the five weekdays I morphed from mother of 2 to mother of 4. Gives me

respect for people who have more than two kids.
April 18. Big day. Patrick helped clean garbage off a highway as part of the Church Adopt-a-Highway service. The boys and I showed up to help eat the food afterward. Then we took a trip to the garbage dump. Then Patrick did a very brave and self-sufficient (heroic)
thing and changed the brake pads on our car while the boys slept and I ran a very long distance. Then we rushed off to Ithaca (after I showered and Patrick made sure his hands were clean) so that we could be present for Elise's baptism. It's a good thing we showed up because I was in charge of the piano playing and Patrick was in charge of the baptizing. It all came together. It's so meaningful to see people I love make good choices. Not just good, but the best choices. The kind that involve covenant making. Nothing makes me smile more, or in the case of Ronelle's temple marriage... bawl my eyes out. (But I was pregnant then. Under normal circumstances, I would have just been smiling. A lot.)
























Other than an eventful home teaching visit and some fun around the campfire last night, that brings us up to date.


Thank you and Good Night.


P.S. There may be one illegal picture posted this evening. If so, I apologize, but it's the best I've got and I wasn't really thinking about legality when I took it.

Cross Country Communication

We talk face-to-face with PTB's family through Skype. It's a weekly ritual (if not more). Typically, the ritual involves Gerret trying to pull himself up to the screen to be cheek to cheek with his grandmother, Nolan doing acrobatics, singing, or making other-worldly noises and gestures and laughing hysterically (except for the off-days when he timidly hides behind his dad), and PTB regulating. I'm usually watching and listening from the sidelines. I feel pretty uncomfortable and awkward in general and being in front of a camera just makes it worse. Especially if it's live. But we like the Skype ritual. All of us do. It's hard to have family on the other side of the country, but this helps us feel a little bit closer. I think it also helps Gerret feel like he has met his extended Mitchell family. He gets so excited to see them.

.....There are definitely some poor uses of technology out there, but thankfully, it can also be used for a lot of good. This Skype thing is a lot of good.

Beside the Dock

Two brothers

On the shore

Throwing rocks

Eating mud

I really can't think of a happier thing.

Numbers

My youngest (and pinkest) sister turns 8 today.

  Crazy.

That means soon I'll be 25.

I remember turning 8 like it was yesterday.

That was 17 years ago.

Sometimes my youthful sister makes me feel youthful.

Most of the time she just makes me feel old.

(Except last week she flattered me by being surprised that I was "so old" because she assumed I was only "18 or 20".)

Speaking of assumptions... a most disturbing conversation last night at Young Women's:

T (girl): How old are you?

Big L (me):  24

T:  REALLY!!!???!!!

Big L:    Yeah really.  Why?  How old did you think I was?

T:  I don't know.  Like 40 or something.

40???  Are you kidding me?  I really don't even have words to describe my astonishment and horror.  So, I'll just leave it at that.  

Now I need to go explain to my 2 year old that he still has 5 1/2 years to wait before he can be baptized.  It'll be hard for him to accept.  He's pretty wound up about the whole baptism thing.  How will I handle Nolan's disappointment when Elise can drive many years before him?  Maybe he'll get used to 5 1/2 years of anticipation for every significant event.

Profile of an Eight Year Old Girl