Climb every mountain, or stair at least

H is getting so quick that if we're not careful (and yes, I admit, there's been a time, or two, okay three) that he'll be at the top of the stairs before we realize it. Now, if only we can get him to come back down again on his own, we'll be set (He instead prefers to try and go down either head first, which ends up in a sort of body surfing down the steps, or he tries to actually step down, but isn't quite tall enough and ends up with him in mid-air , me desperately trying to catch him, and limbs flailing everywhere, including a swift foot kick to the eye.)

E's many moods

Here's happy E, relaxing in the swing at the park:

Here's punk E, who lives by his own rules:

Here's "I wonder if she'll notice if I stick this in my mouth so she'll have to pry it out" E (and yes, I did notice, and yes, I did have to actually pry it out of his mouth):

And here's "why are you trying to feed me green vegetables, or anything other than Cheerios for that matter" E:

Is it September Already?

Where does the time go? The last I knew, it was early August.

You may wonder about the name change. It was brought about during dinner when I watched as E scattered his crackers everywhere. H looked and thought, 'Hey, that looks like fun' and proceeded to scatter his crackers everywhere. Then I tried to feed them some garden vegetables. E grabbed the spoon, started flinging it about, sending pureed veggies all over me, him and the kitchen cabinets. I turned my attentions to H, thinking I would feed him instead while E collected himself and played with the big glop of veggies on his high chair tray. Not to be outdone, H grabs the spoon sending even greater quanties of veggies over me, the high chair, the floor, and even E. And the two then looked at each other and laughed. Hysterically.

This doesn't bode well for my future, you realize.

Hey, How's it goin'

There's days I'm not sure I'm cut out to be the mom of twin boys. And then there's days I know I'm not.

During dinner, an otherwise fussy E discovered the funnest thing ever - spitting mouthfuls of applesauce at his brother. Meanwhile, H thought it was the funnest thing ever to be on the receiving end of said spitting. Naive mom thought surely, if I give him another bite he'll actually eat it. Only to wind up cleaning most of the full serving off of H.

Dinner was followed by a little playtime, which entailed H showing off his ever-more-stable walking ability by pushing the kitchen chairs around the floor. It was actually quite helpful when he pushed the highchair back into it's storage space. On the otherhand, it wasn't terribly helpful when he began pushing a chair and intentionally blocking E into a corner. Again and again.

And finally, off to bed. So, with Dad out of town for work, it was just us three. In their bedroom, I get E in his jammies and let him crawl on the floor as I turn my attentions to H. H decides that he'd like to continue demonstrating his abilities and stand on the changing table while I'm changing his diaper. Not content with just standing, he decides he wants to explore the top of the armoire while he's at it.

As he begins reaching into a position that will surely end with a face-plant on the floor I hear a loud thud behind me followed by E crying. I turn around to look and there E is trapped underneath a nightstand that he has somehow managed to pull over on top of himself. I grab H put him to the floor, a move which makes him quite unhappy, and pull the nightstand off of E. Amazingly enough, E rolls over, crawls a few feet away, grabs a book and sits against the side of the crib and literally looks like he's sitting to read the book. He even begins turning pages. His gaze, however, never leaves the nightstand which is on the receiving end of what can only be called a 15-month-old's best icy stare.

After multiple calls with the ER, we determine he's probably okay though need to wake him every few hours throughout the night to ensure that he can be roused.

By midnight Dad rolls in, I'm exhausted, he's exhausted and we still have several wakings ahead of us til morn. Ethan is amazingly cooperative as he decides to get up on his own multiple times throughout the night (the result of congestion from his cold).

Our doctor called us in the morning, having received the notes from the evening calls to the ER. She suggests we bring him in for a once-over just to make sure. And indeed, he survived what was, I'm sure, the first of many, many similar incidents.

How boys actually survive to adulthood, I'll never understand. How their mom's survive...God help me as I find that out.

A family portrait

The cure for fussy babies

Anytime the fussies start, our sure-fire cure is to get a little perspective, usually an upside down one. But, when strapped in the stroller, we do what we can.