Erin "loving on" Alek

Erik: "Your what?"

Alek: "My ombies. They go right through your legs in your bum, up there and all the way right up in your head and my ombies are tired and that's why you and I need to go and play in the van with the valet key."

It's Friday night and my ombies sure are tired too. We had a rare family day today, which unfortunately started at 01:00 with Alek running screaming into our room. What started out maybe as a nightmare turned into an outright tantrum about, of all things, playing downstairs in the guest room with his cars. I thought it was hard to be rational dealing with a screaming Alek during the day - it was almost delirious in the middle of the night, when I'm struggling between "Don't give in to what he's asking for" (going downstairs) and "Do anything to keep him from waking up his sister" (take him downstairs). Somehow he got over it and fell back asleep long before Erik or I did. And then he snuck back in sometime around 05:00, in flagrant disobedience of the "don't get out of bed or you can't watch TV today" directive. As usual, anything we try to sway Alek with (e.g. M&M's for pooping on the potty) he instantly decides he can live without, and so his TV addiction seems to be cured.

At breakfast, we heard more on Alek's theory of ombies: it turns out Erin's ombies, and Mama's, and Dada's, are all connected, and Alek's too, and they all go right up your legs and through your bum and way out here and they're all together. It seems to mostly be a matter of faith. Or maybe a creation myth. Or just confusion. We're really not sure.

"Family Day" involved a lot of driving around, but as we learned long ago, Erin can't bite anyone when she's strapped in her car seat, and there's a whole lot less crying that way. (But how surprised was I when, during an altercation this morning, Erik instructed her to "love on Alek" and she instantly gave up the charging piranha pose and lay her head down on his back and petted him instead?)

Both kids had a great time at the city pool, and Alek-and-his-ever-present-swim-vest figured out the doggy paddle and how to put his head under water. We may have missed out on swim lessons this year (who knew they would fill up faster than Alek's diaper during the rotavirus?), but if we have the swim vest surgically attached we might not ever need them at all. Erin is a water bug too - fascinated by edges and transitions, she could have spent the whole time getting in and out of the pool, but she enjoyed bobbing around in her circumferential flotation device too. Because I was too lazy to put snacks in a bag and instead grabbed the whole Costco-sized bucket, the car trip inspired a new sign - after she gets our attention by screaming, pointing her finger repeatedly into her wide open mouth means "Give me an animal cracker!!!!!!!"

At the end of the day, we made hummus pizza, got Erin to bed in her usual reluctant-yet-yearning-for-the-crib fashion, and waged another battle in what I've come to call "The Poop Wars." (Heather to Alek: "Do you want to try pooping on the potty? I'll even let you poop on the downstairs potty." Erik to Heather: "Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe we shouldn't LET him poop on the DOWNSTAIRS potty." Heather: "Well, maybe you're right . . .." Alek to us: "No, I don't have to poop anymore.") Another random tantrum about "one more story!!!!" prompted us to actually use the recently-installed gate hook on Alek's door (it's at the top, and locks it open about 4 inches). Five minutes of screaming "One more story" became "I need a diaper change" and then suddenly got a lot louder. Sure enough, the kid who beat the doorknob protectors has also beaten the gate lock. He became immediately contrite and offered to try pooping on the potty, and for what it's worth, he really did try - even though he finally admitted that his bum was empty. And berserk Alek was gone, just like that. Maybe it really DOES have something to do with . . . ombies.

Whatever the cause, it was one of those totally mundane, domestic, frustrating, exhausting, amazing and priceless days of parenthood.

"Let's go play in the Subaru. With the keys. Very lonely keys that don't want to be by themselves."

Meanwhile, Erin just figured out how to type an "omega". Effortlessly. Don't ask me - she's just that brilliant, I guess.

How can looking at this picture NOT make you laugh?

Well, everyone said it would happen eventually and it finally did: just yesterday we got around to laughing about our recent trip to Buffalo. If you are fortunate enough to have not heard this story already, then odds are we didn't infect you with our virulent plague. Read on.

Saturday, June 21st - Frederick Family of Four, driving up to Buffalo as usual in the Blue Minivan. It happened shortly after our dinner stop in Pennslvania at that fateful Pizza Hut. Filled up with gas, changed Erin into PJ's, and patted ourselves on the back for being well over half way to Olean. I called my dad and told him we were on track for a 10:30 arrival at Erik's cousin's house. I took over at the wheel and Erik turned on the "Backyardigans" DVD for Alek. All was well.

A distinctive cough from Erin caught my attention, so I happened to see it first in the rear view mirror. The next cough had substance. Erik grabbed some wipes, but it was too late: the entire back of the van was contaminated. Ten minutes later it happened again and we pulled over to clean her up. Who knew she didn't actually chew cheesesticks? After a few more round of that we thought her stomach must be empty, but we were wrong. We were wrong every 20 minutes for the next 5 hours. Our 3 hour trip to Olean got aborted and we headed straight for Nanna . . . the extra hour turned into two as we got lost on I-99 and made several wrong turns in the violent thunderstorm that followed us through, around, and finally past Kane, PA.

Though I tried to stop her, Nanna took Erin up for a bath as soon as we arrived in Marilla at 12:30 pm. This, in retrospect, was our first mistake. It was pretty much a given that Erik and I would get sick (did I mention that after catching two rounds of vomit he insisted on driving the rest of the way?) but if we'd been thinking clearly, we'd have tried a lot harder to protect my mom. But who knew? We were enlightened Homo Sapiens. We knew all about hand-washing (heck, I took the computer training module at Duke every year since 2002). We had LYSOL, for gods' sake. But all for naught.

(Upon reading this, Erik insists I tell the corrected version as HE recalls it - he sticks to catching at least SIX rounds, including "all the ones with substance, and that one with the undigested blackberries.")

Sunday, June 22nd - Erin spent Sunday miserable, and of course by then the virus had worked its way through to her other end. Blow out after blow out, I washed my hands, her clothes, my clothes, sheets, and everything else she touched. Erik had driven back to Coudersport, PA to attend Aunt Norma’s memorial service. Still thinking we were the masters of infection control, we let Oates come over to visit. I talked to Erik on the phone sometime after dinner and we agreed on a plan that involved him staying over night and mountain biking near Ellicottville with his cousins the next morning before coming home. I noticed as I went to bed that I wasn’t terribly hungry. Happy Birthday to Erik.

Monday, June 23rd – Happy Birthday to Jack, Uncle Rick, and Dave Weller. Wish I remembered that day more fondly. Erin was still sick. Alek was perfectly healthy and bored to tantrums. Nanna was sick by lunch, but since Auntie Oates was closing on AND moving into her new house, she was off trying to help her as much as she could. Erik showed up at 2 pm and started throwing up right after that. Pappa left at 3:30 to “go over to DR’s for a few minutes”, not to return for hours. And thus ensued two torturous hours of parenthood – too fundamentally healthy to not feel guilty about feeling terribly sorry for ourselves, too incapacitated to take care of one sick kid and one now VERY frustrated 3-year-old.

Tuesday, June 24th – Mostly a blur. H and Erin and Nanna starting to feel better, Pappa unscathed. Alek threw up once, very mysteriously, in the middle of the night and had no further symptoms (yet). Erik had tried to eat pizza and was paying the price. Oates, who had to unpack and go back to work the next day, was now sick as well.

Wednesday, June 25th – A light at the end of the tunnel? Probably just another train. A few hours of feeling good and a shopping spree at the mall left us over-confident and invited more havoc into our lives.

Thursday, June 26th – Erik was still sick. He reports throwing up 22 times – who am I to argue? Things were not looking good for our vacation. We were mostly planning on abandoning any further plans and heading back home as soon as we were physically able. But aside from one very memorable diaper event on the living room carpet (hint: Water:Bucket :: Unmentionable Substance:Erin’s shorts) the kids were getting better and eating enough to keep down something other than Pedialyte.

Friday, June 27th – Happy Birthday to H! A pivotal moment occurred as we were packed up and sitting in the minivan in the driveway. Nanna and Pappa were heading to CJ and Dani’s for Jack’s birthday party. We were facing a 13-hour drive home. At the time, it seemed like a good idea – how about a 6-hour drive across New York State instead, AND we get to see Jack for the first time since Christmas? Sounds better than the alternative! Everyone is on the mend! And Alek’s strange rash is probably unrelated!

Saturday, June 28th – For what it’s worth, it was a great party. Too bad Pappa Joe missed it, because he spent the whole day sick in the hotel room. We kept Erin outside for every diaper change and soaked her legs in anti-bacterial hand wash just in case she had a relapse. We had a lot of fun hanging out with Dani’s wonderful family, who will probably never want to see us again. The best moment of the whole trip occurred when Erin threw up in the hotel parking lot at the end of the day (we were just glad there wasn’t a film crew around for Orange County Choppers, which was right next door) and I got to break out the “Emergency Diaper Bag Kit” I’d prepared – wipes, Lysol, plastic bags, and Biohazard stickers.

Sunday, June 29th – Call it what you will, but it was at least the last day of vacation. Nanna drove Pappa home. We got home fairly uneventfully and arrived to the news that Dani’s mom, niece, and nephew were sick. CJ got it the next day while he was back in Olean for the funeral of one of his best friends’ mother. And you thought I was exaggerating when I called it a plague!

Fortunately, the saga seemed to end there. Whatever it was, it had a 48-hour incubation period, wiped out everyone in slightly different ways, and was incredibly contagious. We’ve pretty much all recovered (from the illness, if not the absolute embarrassment and mortification). I flew back up to Buffalo with Erin the next weekend (July 4th) and had four uneventful and on-time flights (thank you, Southwest) and a great time hanging out with friends and feeling like an adult (a rare treat), while Erik took Alek to the Eno River Festival, ran around in the woods, and . . . well, we're pretty sure they’re just bug bites.

Erinaceous (adjective): relating to, or resembling, hedgehogs

Erin: Walking! Running! Mastering many action verbs!

Oh, and by the way, she also turned 1.

Though Freather has been silent, much has been happening. Erin's first birthday party was everything we hoped it would be - small, fun, family, cupcakes. Highlights: cute outfits, pink ATV. Since then, she has solidly entered toddlerhood. Six teeth. Walking as of 5/07/08 (unlike Alek, who practiced increasing degrees of freedom until he could take two - five - ten steps unassisted, Erin waited until she was ready and took off down the driveway - and back). Falling. Bruising. Stop-drop-and-scream in response to disappointment. Developing an acute sense of injustice. Obsessed with wearing jackets. First tick bite. Loves kisses and loving on you, and even occasionally lies down on the closest object that resembles a pillow and sticks her thumb in her mouth. Waits 5 seconds then hops up again at full speed. She's still the little "baby girl" but in truth she's more a little beastie - 24+ pounds, coming right at you. Personality is blossoming - beautiful, bubbly, extremely opinionated, not so shy, yet attached with super glue to Dada when confronted with strange faces (sometimes that means Mama after a day at work - thank you, stranger anxiety!).
What you can't see is that she isn't holding on with her other hand.
Nope, not warm enough yet.
I'm gonna get that kitty!
This is not my highchair.
Why we love the new kids museum - cages!

Alek: Debating! Delaying! Master of Dirt!

And he turned 3, too.

Alek's quotes are getting too complicated to remember verbatim. On any given day we hear things along the lines of "I'm going to go be a demolition machine in the dirt pile with my grapples!" and "Mama, come lie down with me and say good night because I'm a good boy and I'm lying here quietly!" Everything tends to end with an exclamation point. He still loves to ask "Why?", sometimes about mundane things like "Why is that garage door down?" to the more esoteric "Why did I want you to come play with me?" I have already used up "Because I said so" and it didn't even phase him. We saw him eat a piece of broccoli yesterday - this is really newsworthy, because he doesn't usually let vegetables pass his lips and it was only after he decided he was eating a tree in the forest. Knows that the only song he will sing is the alphabet, which came out completely right the first time around yesterday. Personality: also blossoming, also beautiful, a trickster and hilarious. Much more shy, but also incredibly unselfconscious within his broad comfort zone.
Taking a break in the bouncy castle.
Hanging out in the sand box attic.
If we ever run out of hats again ... we'll just stay home.
The other reason we love the new museum - big bus!
Little Yellow Car never gets old - just small.

H and E

Yes, we exist too.

It's easy to forget about ourselves. While I probably could spend all day playing with my kids and the rest of the time writing about them or organizing their photos . . . . well, I don't. Though there's less in the way of news and updates for us, things have been happening. We're now four months in the new house and it LOOKS like we've lived here forever - nothing like living with two little entropy machines to make a house look settled. And that's not counting the four-legged entropy-mongers. Erik has hired some wonderful folks (Bountiful Backyards, aka "The Backyardigans") to replace our well-established, lovely, yet generic landscaping with an array of edible perennials. I was willing to wait a year. I was willing to go a year without a garden. I was outvoted. But it's for a good cause - I kind of threw the swing vote myself. Not only will we have an herb garden someday (uh, don't tell the deer - as if the buckets of "deer repellent" weren't going to notify them), but we'll have fig, pear, cherry, and hazelnut trees. The dirt is in the driveway and the holes are in the ground. And the demolition machine is in the backyard with two grapples and no pants on. Life is good.

Here's Erin "posing" for the camera already.

Tonight Alek and Erin took a bath together and just about emptied the tub splashing at each other - Alek kicking with his legs making "little gentle splashes", and Erin slapping the water as hard as she could at Alek and giggling outrageously. You go, girl - enjoy the inequity, for what it's worth. When you're little and cute, you can make the big splashes and get away with it. Your brother is big and cute and didn't even question it when I told him he could only splash a little. It won't last.

Erin is looking less like a baby and more like a little Alek every day. She hangs with the big boys, and she likes it. Not satisfied with the high chair, she wants to sit on the stool and swing her legs at dinner. She hangs on to the back of the little yellow car for dear life, and if Alek doesn't "drive" it fast enough she starts pushing. She'll turn the tips of your fingers purple holding on to them for balance as she practices walking . . . or running . . . and then she'll screech and yank your arm in whatever direction she wants you to turn. She's mastered the stop, drop, and scream in response to dissatisfaction. We almost have two toddlers in the house.

Splashing in the dog water - a rare moment of indulgence.

Except . . . just in time, Alek seems to be growing out of toddler-hood. He's all little boy now, with pleases and no-thank-yous and adverbs and things like "I really can't even reach it!" coming out of his mouth. And the occasional piece of spaghetti, followed by "What's that worm doing?" He is still living in the world of imagination - tonight as we put him to bed for the fourth time he lay there holding his sippy cup of water saying "This is the hiiiiiigh cliff, and this is the ocean, and this is the very high cliff where Mimi and Papa Alan and Alek and Mama and Dada are walking, and . . . why is this finger sliding down the cliff into the ocean?" And when I say "It's wet because the ocean splashed it" he says "No, it's raining . . . and then the sun will come up and dry it off and . . .uh oh! It's still slippery!"

As always, the kids are remarkably photogenic.

A prior bath time, with Mimi - they hadn't figured out how much fun splashing was yet.

Erin holding her ears for the coffee grinder. This was before we gave up coffee of course.

Alek wearing his jammies upside down. And riding his bike. He isn't really running away to the circus.

"What was that????" I called out toward the basement. I was standing at the stove, cooking a new recipe for dinner and managing various stages of food preparation from pureed veggies to Thai peanut sauce to noodles with butter and cheese. It was the usual 5 o'clock chaos.

"DO YOU KNOW WHERE ERIN IS?" Erik again, and louder.

"NO, WHAT'S SHE DOING?" I gave up yelling and headed toward the stairs, wondering what moment of cuteness I was missing this time. And I stopped at the top of the stairs.

Erin was half way down the oak stairs.

Backwards.

Giggling with delight.

Entirely unsupervised.

"I found her!!!!"

Along with learning how to go down stairs without us, Erin has mastered the exaggerated head nod (emphatically, YES!) and truly solid foods (Yes, Pizza!). She's almost 11 months old, believe it or not, and should be walking any day now if she has her way. Alek of course is very excited about this. He can't wait for her to be able to chase him on foot and reach his toys when he snatches them out of her hands. He'll probably have to master a new hold to drag her away from his school bus - the cross-body hug works fine when their axes are perpendicular, but as soon as she's vertical, he'll realize that she weighs almost as much as he does. He may have to recruit his new friends - Sqwerpy, Froggy, and Rye-Rye - to help keep her away. Or he might chase them off so HE can be the one to give her a good-night kiss. It's rather moment-to-moment with them. Yet some things remain the same - Erin barely noticed Daylight Savings Time, and as long as she gets her bottle and some cuddle time is happy to plop down in her crib with her thumb in her mouth; meanwhile Alek is coming up with ever more creative ways to get out of bedtime. Including, but not limited to: not sleeping in the bed at all (he's been in the Shark Tent for 2 weeks - I think that's where Sqwerpy et al. were hiding), saying there's Thunder coming, calling out at random moments "It hurts!!!", and once in a while actually hurting himself for real by throwing the Ice Cream truck up only to have it bounce off the tent and hit him in the face. Always fun times!

I'm cute AND I'm trouble

We're still trying to come up with an appropriate password protection scheme to keep the scary outside world out but somehow let in all the people who it turns out do read this blog. Thanks to my premature announcement of an impending password, we now know there are at least three people out there (besides you, Mom) who keep track of us on-line. I've kind of assigned this task to Erik - one of the many things in the technological realm that I once was capable of, but which I've lost the ability to do thanks to being married someone who is a bigger geek than I was. And I mean that in the best possible way, of course - after all, I married him! As soon as it percolates up on his to-do list, or fights its way to the top through all the stuff he actually gets paid for, it will get done.

I love how Alek is instinctively opening HIS mouth too

Which begs the question: why not just do it myself? I'm pretty sure I could figure it out, but somehow I've decided that it's his job. What's with that? I can't help but wonder which my children will be more influenced by, if at all: my inherent willingness to lapse into a well-established gender role, or the things I've done that cross old-fashioned gender boundaries. Is the concept of a gender role itself outdated? Will my kids even know what I mean by a "gender boundary"? Do I? What it comes down to is really this: I may have worked very hard for the past 10 years to have a career, but I still don't want to take out the garbage. Of course I want the best of all worlds. Help cooking dinner AND cleaning up. A spouse with a paycheck. My own retirement plan. Baking cookies with my kids. The occasional joy of folding warm laundry straight from the dryer, but no obligation to do it every time. A husband who doesn't expect me to mow the lawn. Equal pay for equal work. 12 weeks of maternity leave. Is it selfish? Of course! Does it work? Personally, yes, so far (I empty the cat litter, at least - somehow it balances out, though as I write this it does appear a bit lop-sided).

I talk as if there are no gender boundaries left, yet I have a hard time leaving Erin in her brother's blue jeans without at least putting a pink bow in her hair. She has a crib full of dolls; Alek has a room full of trucks. Alek has spent a LOT of time over the last few months trying to figure out who is a boy and who is a girl; he went from always asking about anatomy to always being able to tell at first glance - boy or girl. So the professional world can try its best to act as if there should be no difference, when any two year old can immediately tell you that there IS. But that's a whole nother topic, as they say.

What else is the two-year old up to, other than inspiring a bout of gratuitous introspection? He's figured out sliding down the stairs in footed pajamas, one of the finer joys in life. His sister is equally enthralled with being able to crawl UP stairs - but until she stops trying to go down head first, she's not allowed to follow him down. She does follow him around the basement, holding onto the back of the little yellow car, and she doesn't even hesitate to go out the door and cross-country. Afraid of deer poop? Not my little girl. But is it her job to shovel it? No way.

Living in the belly of the shark.

This is the first entry from our new house, and the last entry in Freather that will be widely available without a password. As our kids are getting older and cuter, and as the world is getting scarier, I'm beginning to think that maybe we should limit access to this repository of highly personal information. I know, I know, it will really cut down on our web traffic - sorry, advertisers! - and who knows what the "Anonymous Comment Spammers" will do - find someone else to harass with on-line poker schemes! - but I think the rest of our viewers will adjust. Mom, I'll send you the password, don't worry.

In the mean time, we're settling in quite nicely to the new house. Alek has had no sadness or regret over leaving the old house behind, and Erin of course never missed a beat. Or a nap. Compared to the month of December, with over 5,000 miles traveled between three coasts (Lake Erie counts, right?), a simple move up the street was hardly a struggle.

Erin's almost 10 months old and starting to provide us with daily challenges. Things that used to be easy are suddenly NOT. For instance, naps - it used to be as easy as lying her down and watching her flip over and find her thumb, and now it's uh uh, no thanks, don't you dare walk out that door, Mama, oh, OK, there's my thumb. It seems like just a month or so ago she started crawling, and now she's already trying to walk. Baby gates are up everywhere, and just like her brother at the same age, she's obsessed with the dog water. Lots of noise coming from the little girl, and some words: "Ba ba" could mean Mama or "bottle" depending on the context, or maybe both, but "Dada" is clear as a bell, ringing through the house at 7:00 almost every morning. And a real landmark - thanks to Tonya, Erin has a hairdo. Little pink rubber bands and a topknot. She's looking more like Pebbles every day! Solid foods are getting more solid, but she still is a little bit of a puree princess. We tried bagels a couple weeks ago, and after watching her turn just a little bit red . . . redder . . . blue . . . trying to get it out of her mouth, we backed off on actual solids. Why do I list all this? Because I can't even remember when she stopped taking her third nap, and I know it was less than two months ago (for the record, she's still taking two). Really, I swear I'll remember this stuff forever, yet the data suggest otherwise.

Alek, of course, has his ups and downs when it comes to both sleep and food. But his world is a little bit bigger - toys, friends, books, imaginary snakes, and sticks that are pretend remotes that make pretend water (or fire, like the Aim-A-Flame), which you must protect yourself from by wearing the imaginary snake, i.e. umbrella. It's complicated, but actually makes sense if you see it from his point of view. I suspect. He went quite a long stretch without naps but, it turns out, he does still need one and is a LOT happier when he gets one. Sometimes his endless negotiating and demands wear on us ("No! I want the serving fork! No! I want the door a little bit open! No! I'm all done taking a nap!") but at the same time, it's very entertaining to see how his mind works. (Like when I told him that no, I don't think we have a serving "knife" and he immediately responded "You have to go get one?", or when he saw the "new" garage and said "I have two garages???").

Nanna and Pappa have been here this weekend, and Nanna is staying around to help with the rest of the settling in, much to Alek's delight, who got to drop Pappa off at the airport and go to "Chicks Fill-A" for lunch afterwards. This ranked second only to watching Curious George in Pappa's chair for making a toddler's day. You'd think that with an extra person around all week we'd find time to catch up on endlessly ignored chores, but a lot of that extra manpower (or better yet, Nanna-power) seems to just get sucked up by the Cute Vortex - and if you actually read this whole entry, than watch out, you too may be affected!!!!

Pictures coming as soon as we unpack those electrons. Stay posted for news on the password implementation - we have to actually figure out how to do it first!

Erin and Jack - born less than three months apart, sharing 25% of their genetic material, and both cute as can be . . . yet one of these children can sit still. Can you guess which parents are the lucky ones?