Gotta Love His Decisiveness

It's Friday at 5pm and we've got no dinner plans figured out. On the car ride home for the day I ask Indio what he wants for dinner.

• Mashed potatoes
• Corn (on the cob so he can make a corn cob pipe afterward)
• One - make that two - tacos

Photojourna.list: Indio Turns 2

Indio's second birthday party was all about trains, cupcakes and irritating hats.

We had the party at the Creation Station in the Museum of Transportation in St. Louis. Best decision ever. Check them out.

Baby Whisperer

[minute 0] It all starts when I try to put Ruby and Indio down for a nap and they start playing 'book slap.' I'm not really sure of the rules - or the real name of the game - but it seems like slapping whichever picture book one is reading with hard, frequent slaps is the goal. I can tell by the mischievous glint in their eyes and squeals of delight that the game is going very well. I can also tell the nap is not going so well.

[minute 7] When I declare book time is over and we are all going to lay down and sing some songs, they obey. Clearly as master-and-commander of toddlers (ages 16 months and 2 years), I see this obedience as their recognition that nap time is starting. We all lay down and a sing-along to 'Twinkle, twinkle little star" starts up quickly. Because the tunes are the same, we seamlessly transition into 'The Alphabet Song' and we sound great. I think we are harmonizing, but I can't be sure because, by this time, Indio is doing somersaults on the bed and Ruby is doing Lipton Ice Tea plunges in the middle of the bed. Minor bump in the road that we aren't at all horizontal for the start of nap time, but I can get this under control.

[minute 17] Nap time is actually becoming a new game that requires the player to shimmy off the bed before Mama/Aunt Nica can pull you back on the bed. This makes me realize that perhaps they just need to wear themselves out. I briefly contemplate tricking them into running laps around the house to really tucker them out, but as I spend time thinking about this they've both gotten off the bed and are already playing in Indio's room. Okay, now to just sit back and wait for them to want to take a nap. 

[minute 33] Inspiration hits. We don't need a stinkin' bed to take a nap, we have a little tent we can sleep in. I gather pillows/blankets/stuffed animals, make a big to-do, and they file in the tent like I'm the pied piper. My dominance is restored...we are going to nap very soo...Indio has laid against one of the tent walls and the tent is now on its side. Ruby thinks this is great and does the same on her side of the tent. The tent is now rocking like one of those pirate ship rides at amusement parks. Worried about head bonks, I shore up the sides of the tent with the pillows. In the meantime, I am trying to extract my charges from the tent, which is not proving to be easy. 

[minute 41] I am physically tired at this point. How does my mom do this everyday? With my patience nearly gone, I realize naptime is a no go unless I separate the daring duo. Things get real fuzzy at this point. We try Ruby in the crib and Indio in the bed; Indio in the bed, Ruby in the crib; both in the crib with lots of books. The curtains are all drawn to make the accommodations as dark as possible and I've got soothing zen baby music cranked through the radio. On more than one occasion I desperately say 'listen to the pretty music.' The words come out as psychotic, rather than soothing, and I know this even as I say it again. During this time I have to defend myself from a lot of bed karate. I get poked in the eye twice and absorb many kicks to the torso. The part that hurts most are the looks of pure confusion; the searching eyes that cannot figure out why I would make them nap. I am beginning to question it myself. I regain my composure and realize without naps we have two tired little hellions on our hands. Not good. I must try harder to get this nap started. More of the same transpires.

[minute unknown, but somewhere around 2.5 hours into it] Exhausted and ready to admit defeat, I make one last move: I contact Daniel and ask him to come home so we can get each little one in a separate bed with one-on-one down time. He takes Indio, I take Ruby. At first, it is more wrestling, then suddenly, she just goes totally limp. She is asleep. Completely asleep. I am a baby whisperer.

This Is Why We Don't Have Nice Things

My sister really seems to have her parenting act together (she sews, she creates, she cuts her baby's hair...poor  little mulleted baby girl), so I decided to take one of her ideas and make it my own: an informal art center for Indio to bang out some remarkable creations. This amounted to me taping paper onto the wall and handing him a stack of crayons, chalk and pens. On top of the paper I taped a few index cards for portable creations I could send out to his great-grandma and far-away relatives.

He scribbled a bit; he tested the boundaries of the paper vs. the wall, all the while watching me for indications that he was in trouble; he pulled off the paper and shoved the index card in his mouth. Three times. This is why we don't have nice things.

Our Artist and His Methods

A few Sundays back Indio and I were doing the usual Sunday routine: listening to music, getting everything out of the front closet, scribbling on Post-it notes...you know, the usual. Out of nowhere Indio went and changed it up on me and stuck a pencil in his mouth and proceeded to continue scribbling on his Post-it. I made a few lame attempts to get him to take it out of his mouth - it seemed like the responsible parent thing to do. Then I worried about stifling his creativity, so I reversed course, took out the camera and tried to discretely tape it.



The following is the result of his new-found method, though I would venture to guess most of this was by hand. My favorite part, which I didn't capture on film, is that he picked up his work and licked it. As a proud momma I'm just going to tell myself that was his way of signing the piece, but based on past history and current circumstance the reality is we have a toddler*.
*Toddlers naturally lick anything and everything - like paper and spilled liquids on the floor. It would amaze you how you have to teach a child how to be less gross.

Photojourna.list: Straw, twine, balloon and tape

Last Friday I was asked to round up

•  a drinking straw 
• twine 
• balloon 
• tape  

A rocket launch was in order.

Unlisted: He already knows everything

I originally wrote this about a month ago after getting up at four in the morning and getting this look from Indio. It resonated enough that I put him back to bed and came straight to the computer to write this up.

There is a look my son sometimes gives me that catches me off guard. It is a somber, piercing look - as if he can see right through me and is sizing me up. In my mind, he already knows everything about me from this look: he knows I am reading books on parenting and making things up as I go; he knows that sometimes I take the easy route (rather than the right route) with him; he knows I sometimes make mistakes. But, at the end of all this, he still climbs into my lap to cuddle when he's tired, he still flashes me his grin when I come to rescue him from his car seat and he still seems to squeal with delight when I pick him up at the end of the day. That's love.