Pomp and Circumstance (2011)

As many of your know, my Handsome Coastie finished his second Master's degree this summer.  Although we've been celebrating the end of this era for a few weeks now, he just recently had his graduation ceremony.

Jon's parents joined us for the festivities.  It was a lovely, hot summer day, in a beautiful church about an hour away.  In typical military fashion, the ceremony started at 10am, and we were told to be there by 9am.  And in typical Coastie Family fashion, we were there at 8:45am.  The good news: we had great seats.  The bad news: we had over three hours in pews with our two little tikes.  I thought ahead and packed snacks, drinks, "quiet" toys, puzzle and books.  My kids were tired of the toys, ate all the snacks and spilled their drinks before the first note of the National Anthem sounded. 

Pre-ceremony lip smacking!

Pre-ceremony pew slapping.

Once Jack got over the wonder and awe of servicemembers marching in uniforms and flags and music, and we all sat down to speeches, the real work began.  It was also about this time that Jude kept trying to touch the tattoo on the lady in front of us while exclaiming, in his cutest yet loudest baby voice, "Uh-oh, uh-oh!"  So I took the boys to the back foyer where the rest of the parents with kiddos were hanging out.  This was all well and good until Jack started running over the babies and not minding his mama.  Thankfully, Nonnie stepped in at this point to take Jude off my hands and I got to experience dragging a toddler out of church - kicking and screaming. 

Now we all know where Jack gets his "seriously excited" face from!

We quickly discovered a "reflection garden" with peaceful fountain and breezy-set bench.  I read through the public journal tucked under the bench seat while Jack splashed in the fountain.  Okay, while Jack got thoroughly drenched in the fountain.  When he started re-arranging the actual structure and pumping mechanism, I figured it was best to move one.  So we walked the gardens in an attempt to dry off Jack's clothes.  We were just starting to approach that point when he found yet another fountain to dunk in.  The child knows no moderation.

Soon the speeches were over and it was time for the actual awarding.  Poppie came to relieve me of my charge so I could watch Hubby receive his degree and rest my poor, pregnant ankles a little.  He brought our small brood back into the sanctuary while they were handing out awards.  Jack ran up to our pew, said "Hi Mama, I back!" and then crawled up next to me.  In a split second, conveniently timed just when the presenters had taken a break from speaking, he stood up next to me, slipped forward, and banged his head on the pew in front of us.  There was silence, a slight gasp from the people sitting around us, a sucking in of air by Jack himself, followed by the wail.  Thankfully, Poppie had scooped Jack up and whisked him back down the aisle by the time the wail was in full force.  But it was still loud enough that Jon, sitting on the other side of the church, turned to his classmates and whispered, "That's my kid."

Family Portrait Fail.  But this perfectly describes how my boys were feeling at this point.

It was the kind of event where one probably should not have brought small children.  But we did anyway, along with lots of other people.  And it was the kind of event after which one vows to never again attempt bringing small children to anything involving non-Sunday church ceremonies, quiet speeches, long waits, and dressing up...  And then we drove up to New Jersey the next day with our boys to attend Jon's cousin Jackie's wedding. 

Photo Credit: Nonnie

Photo Credit: Man holding Nonnie's camera.

The boys were adorable in their ties and vests.  And although I know you shouldn't brag about how little you spend on clothing, I just have to add that I found Jack's entire ensemble on clearance for $6.  Awesome!  Despite the results of the previous day, I yet again assumed that a few toys and snacks would keep my kids quiet during a short wedding ceremony.  Notsomuch.  A few moments before the wedding party was about to walk down the aisle, Jack started racing down the pews and, because kids are so good at being loud during all the quiet moments, Jude began pointing at the candle above our heads and exclaiming yet again, in his cutest yet loudest baby voice, "Uh-oh, uh-oh!"  Things had gone far enough.  I whisked the boys off to the nursery and we watched the rest of the ceremony on closed-circuit TV.

After some Rita's (right outside the church, best idea ever!) and family pictures we decided a slow, quiet drive to the reception was in order. 

Somehow "Monkey" managed to fanangle his way into the big Bride's family portrait.

Just as hoped, both boys zonked out by the time we pulled into the parking lot.  Jon and I gave each other silent cheers, leaned the seats back, cranked up the AC, pulled out our books and settled in for a nice little pre-reception quiet time.  Ah, how much life has changed these past 5 years.  Eventually Jon decided he should scope out the hors d'ouvres while I held down the fort.

After naptime ended, the boys had a nice little romp in the grass and fresh air with their cousins.  And then I realized, you can dress 'em up but you can't take 'em out. 

Within seconds Jack had found the biggest, baddest stick he could carry and was attempting to go "fishing" or take out a few cousins, or dig in a few mud puddles.  And I'll confess, at this point, I didn't really care.

While we thought we were being proactive in arriving at the reception early and giving our kids naps and playtime, what we didn't realize that hors d'ourves were scheduled to last 2 hours, that we wouldn't be able to sit at our table until 8pm, or that dinner wouldn't be served until 10pm.  Eek! 

Barefoot and pregnant, attempting to take photos that involve as little bending and crouching as possible.

All I wanted was one picture of the handsome cousins all dressed up.  Apparently that was asking a little much of my wee one.  This is the best I got.

Let's just say, we had a LOT of playtime.  We attempted some time in the reception hall, but after chasing kids in and out of the the crowd and watching Jack nearly trip more than one poor lady in heels, we decided to spend the rest of the evening basking by the waterfall. 

A serene moment by the water.

The littlest cousins had fun wrestling in the grass, throwing rocks and making their way into the background of other people's nice photos.  And then Jon caught Jack taking a swig of cousin Connie's "adult beverage." It was cold and clear, the poor child just thought it was water. Fortunately, he remained unphased.

Poppie and his grandkids! (minus Ryley and Gabe)

Nana and Papa and the great-grandkids.  Note our Chicken Little in the middle.

Getting tossed in the air by Poppie will offset any "shorter than usual" nap day.

By the time we were seated, my preggo ankles had long been protesting an entire day in heels.  And the boys were beyond tired.  So while the rest of the crowd was letting loose out on the dance floor, Jon and I were along the back wall attempting the "sleep sway" with each of our boys.  By the time dinner was served our little guys could barely keep their eyes open.  We shoved a few bites into them, scooped them back up for a quick goodbye to the family, and were out the door before we could catch a glimpse of the cake we were missing out on. 

And I'll admit, sometimes it stinks.  Being out on the fringes.  Feeling like your whole life is centered around naps, snacks and whatever toy you can scrape out of the bottom of the diaper bag.  But I'm really okay with it.  This is just a phase of our life.  Our kids won't be this much work forever ... and they won't be adorable, sweet little boys forever either.  Lately I've been noticing Mama's that are a decade or two ahead of me.  I see them in church, at graduation ceremonies or weddings, perfectly put together, able to actuallly spend more than a hot second on their hair and make-up, enjoying the moment, kids off doing their own thing.  Honestly, for the first time ever, "mid-life" has its appeal.  I think I'm looking forward to being in my 30s and 40s, but not enough to race there.  Because this age is pretty good too.  And right now my kids don't ask me for money, or video games, or roll their eyes when I tell them to do something.  Instead they put their head on my shoulder when they're tired, they run up to me with their hands in the air when they need a snuggle, and they bop to the music.  So I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts ... and while they still let me capture it on camera.

Someone get this girl a mood ring

let's get emotional girls to all wear mood rings

so we'll be tipped off to when they're ticked off

cause we'll know just what they're thinking

-Relient K, "Mood Rings"

Love the teenage punk band reference?

After three pregnancies, you start to catch on to things.   You no longer worry about that weird jabbing feeling in your uterus that makes you gasp when you stand up, because you know it's totally normal.  And you rarely mention the leg cramps, heartburn, back pain, difficulty breathing, etc. because you've been expecting it.  And the 30-something week emotional breakdown?  Well it wouldn't be a Janine-pregnancy without it.  As proven by my dutiful blogging these past 3 years (here and here) I'm prone to hormonal surges right around this time of pregnancy.

He likes to point out the acorns ... all 5,000,000 of them.

And so this week, while I was sitting on the toilet seat in our bathroom (the farthest, quietest corner of the house at the time) crying my eyes out.  It suddenly dawned on me - I'm 32 weeks, this is totally, completely, part of the process.  It's not me, it's the hormones.

And the hormones aren't helped much by current circumstances.  Jon's back to work now.  And he really likes his job.  So much so that he tends to spend 12 hour days there.  We also have a contractor (who Jack has affectionately dubbed "the man") working on the guest room that likes to show up at 7am sharp.  Which means my day starts with the rising of the sun, and I'm flying solo until Jon walks in the door during dinnertime.  And that sounds so quaint - dinnertime.  What it really means is I'm up to my elbows in dishes.  Jude, who finished all three helpings of his dinner within 10 minutes, is emptying out the drawers, shoving things in the broiler, or crawling in the dishwasher.  And Jack, who has been sitting at the table for about an hour now, has still only taken 3 bites, yet managed to go "pee pee" on the potty twice in 10 minutes, is being told to "sit in his seat" for about the 50th time that meal.  Ah sweet family mealtime.

Jack keeps a close eye on "the man" and gives us the play by play on all the "the man's" doings.

The good thing about being on my own all day is that we have a good routine.  This mama runs a tight ship.  The boys are up at 7.  Lunch is at 11. Both are taking a nap by 12:30.  Jude's down for the night promptly at 7.  Jack's picking out his 3 books and changing into his jammies by 7:15.  And Mama is about to crash by 7:30.  I mean, raising two toddlers is exhausting.  They just don't stop.  Unless they're taking a nap.  But those are the only hours I have to cook, clean, and oh yeah, do my other job.  Sooo, in case you haven't noticed yet, the energetic phase of pregnancy has officially passed.  I concede, I am tired.

My two little loves.

But it's not just the "can't deal with it and crying on the toilet" moments.  I'm all over the spectrum here.  My sentimental sensors are on high-alert.  And when it comes to my kids I'm hearing, seeing, feeling more deeply than ever.  Like when I'm sitting in the middle of church, listening to the pastor preach about shipwrecks, and all I can think about is how much I stinkin' love my little family.  Or I'm listening to Jack begging "Jude-buddy" to come play with him and realizing how grateful I am for my two boys, the little buddies and those rare moments when they get along.  Or when it's time for Jude to go to bed, he's practically jumping out of my arms while reaching for his crib and I'm just not ready to put him down yet because I want one last snuggle before the day comes to a close.  Or that sparkle in Jack's eye, the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth when he gives me that look, the one that says, "Man, I have a cool mom."  Nevermind that he'd never think to say it.  I know what he's thinking.  And even the Little Miss, when she does her happy dance after I've laid down for the night and she knows she has my full attention.  The way she kicks and rolls and grooves.  She's won my heart completely.

When he smiles, the birds burst into song... okay not really, but it seems like it.

 Yes, there have been some bitter moments this week.  But it's not been without it's savory bits either.  And in these final weeks of pregnancy I'd so much rather dwell on those... at least until things start to really get crazy.

Always looking for a new vantage point.

We have a promising weekend on the books, and a "lighter load" for me over this next week.  Which means, also judging from previous pregnancies, full-on nesting mode is right around the corner!  Woo hoo!  Nesting is ten times better than sobbing in bathrooms!  Happy Friday!

Chore Boy

We're a mere 8 weeks away from the Little Miss' due date!  And that means 9 weeks away from our firstborns third birthday.  Crazy!  And to think I keep telling people he's 2 1/2.  So with this coming of age means exciting new developments, like preschool!  But I haven't quite sorted out all the feelings in my head or on my heart about that venture yet, so we'll hold off for now and focus on other new territory that comes with 3 years well-lived - chores.

After living rent-free for 34 months, we figured it was time Jack started earning his keep.  Ok, just kidding.  Really we want to instill in him a sense of responsibility, leadership and a good work ethic to help enhance his application to the Coast Guard Academy in a few years.  Okay, just kidding again.  Sorta.  We just want the kid to be a good person okay!  And, for the most part, he enjoys giving us a hand around the house.  Unless it involves picking up his toys, or helping him change his clothes.  Anytime I ask him to do either of these things he says, "Mommy's turn, Mommy do it."

My plan is to have a neat little chore chart for him to follow when we start our new routine this fall.  Of course, I also realize that many of my plans for the autumn are gonna go up in smoke once our little babycakes makes her appearance.  But I go on dreaming anyway.  The challenge is, determining just what Jack is physically and mentally capable of doing.  We've done a few trial runs recently to help make those decisions.

Mail Run
Jack loves to spot the mail truck.  And thanks to our fantastic new bay window, i.e. the fish bowl, nothing goes by the front of our house without one of our boys notice.  And the picture clarity is even better than our TV!  So once the mail truck pulls up we do a little happy dance by the window, maybe throw a few cushions off the couch in anticipation, and then wait until the mailman is about two doors up so we don't have to deal with the awkwardness of standing by the box while he's still unloading the envelopes.

Until recently it was a chore that I just took care of myself.  So Jack was beyond elated when I announced the other day that it was now his turn to retrieve the mail and "Quick, get your shoes on! *insert hand claps*"  It had just rained, so he returned with his Wellies and I sent him off to the end of the driveway with strict instructions to stay out of the street.

The few yards walk suddenly seemed way too far from my vantage point in the doorway and I think that for a moment, I felt what it would be like to send my kid away to college.  But he was oh, so excited, and so proud to go all by himself.  So I stuck it out at my post by the door.  And waited.  And waited.  I could barely see the top of his head above the bushes, but couldn't figure out what was taking so long.  Finally, after a short eternity, I heard his little voice floating through the branches, "Mom, I can't reach.  Can't reach Mom!" 



Oops.  Shorty isn't tall enough to open the mailbox yet, poor kid.  So I ran out quick, opened the door, pulled out the mail, stuffed it in his waiting arms, and then ran back to the door and pretended like I was never there so I could snap this picture:

Job well done Jack!  So that's Chore #1, modified to "Walking to mailbox with Mama, and carrying the mail back to the house for her."

Laundry
I thought for sure this would be a winner.  Jack has been a great assistance for several months now in transporting the laundry from the upstairs to the laundry room downstairs.  In other words, he thorougly enjoys throwing, kicking, and riding dirty clothes down the staircase.  Actually carrying it to the washer is another story.  But there's more to laundry than just manual labor.  It's also a sorting exercise.  And I thought what a perfect opportunity to incorporate some educational lessons into hard work.

Naturally, Jack takes the sorting aspect a little too far.  Whereas I was thinking just "lights" and "darks", Jack seems to think it's important to label each article's owner.  So instead of just pulling handfuls of clothing out of the hamper and throwing it in the basket in a timely manner, he has to pull each and every item out, one by one, and announce, "Mommy's shirt, Daddy's unner-wear, Jack's jammies, Jude's pants..."  And then when we get down to the laundry room and it's time to put it all in the washer, it's the same thing, "Mommy's pants, Jack's unner-wear, Daddy's socks..."  One by one, into the washer.  I'm quickly learning that toddler chores are so much less about helping me be efficient around the house and more about new experiences for my kiddo.

Of course, we must not leave out the real highlight of doing the laundry - pushing the blinking button.  Heaven forbid I do it myself and compromise my son's sense of self-worth ... as demonstrated by an emotional meltdown.  Jack firmly believes he was put in this family to push the "start" button on the washer and dryer.  And between potty training (which has suddenly gotten much, much better I should add), cloth diapers, and two dirt-playing, messy-eating little boys, he has plenty of opportunities to exercise his gift!

Watering the plants
Surely this would be it, I thought.  The inside plants may be a bit challenging, but the outdoor ones are a perfect task for a 3 year old.  I just didn't realize how zealous he would be about our botanical friends' liquid diet.  Anytime the child finds a bit of stray water, he's dumping it on the plants.  I've had to explain about flooding, and that when water starts flowing off the top of the pot it means the plant isn't thirsty anymore, etc. but at least the greenery has been flourishing under his care.

Okay, so he doesn't always get the water IN to the plant...

And if there's ever water left over in the watering can he's more than happy to take care of it himself.  Because, hey, chores are hard work!

He's got the "hey, I'm about to do something crazy" look in his eyes.  You little rebel, you!

Jon also mentioned that our son is an excellent stick picker-upper and a great help with yard work.  I was taking advantage of the quiet moment inside the house, so I didn't get to see it or take pictures.  But judging by the number of trees in our yard, I'm sure Jack will have plenty of opportunities to shine in this area in the future.  Other than that, we're still looking for a few more chore ideas before fall.  And once we get into that groove our next step is to find ways to keep Little Brother busy.

And out of trouble.

Because that certainly seems to be his M.O. these days.

Any ideas for chores for a 15 month old?

Jack 2.75

Jack.  Our firstborn.  Our biggest source of entertainment ... and frustration. 

Jack's officially bordering on his teen years.  Okay, maybe it just seems that way.  He's started talking back recently.  For instance, I'll say, "Jack, clean up your puzzles."  And he'll say, nay growl, "No, don' wanna keen up puzzles."  Or I'll be singing while washing dishes, "Mom, stop singing!"  Except he sounds like a bitter old man when he does it.  Almost like he knows it's wrong so saying it under your breath, with just the right amount of volume, makes it not so rude.  But it's still rude and still wrong.  So we attempt to correct it.  And usually in the course of leading him to another room for correction he'll start batting at me with his free hand and growling "Mom, stop touching me, stop touching Jack!"  *sigh*  I once said the 2's could be nothing but sweet.   Well I concede.  They really are terrible at times, not always, but occasionally. 

We have had some really terrible, horrible days lately.  It's a good thing I've been a little too busy to blog these past few weeks, because now I forget just how bad those days were.  And Jack probably appreciates the occasional bout of forgetfulness.  There's one event we won't forget though, and that would be the broken TV.  Daddy's beloved, 42" flat-screen TV.  If it was an isolated event that would be one thing, but this was the culminating event in a long string of misdemeanors that day.  I think I had a reached a point where I couldn't take it anymore on my own and had passed the torch off to Jon.  So he put in "Chicken Little" for Jack to watch before bed.  I didn't see anything, but apparently Jack was crawling around the TV stand with his Little People truck when the "scary alien" scene came on.  According to Jon, Jack threw his truck at the TV and yelled "scary aliens!" and Jon told him to get down and not throw toys.  Later, long after the movie had ended and I was upstairs putting Jack to bed, Jon went downstairs to watch TV himself and realized that the screen wouldn't turn on ... and that there was a huge spiderweb crack across it.  Daddy was livid, or maybe seething is the right word.  He didn't yell or attack anyone, but you could see he was struggling on the inside.  And I just remember going to bed with the sinking feeling of, "We're total failures.  Somewhere we've done something horribly wrong and now we have a crazy, out-of-control child to show for it."  It was a very.bad.night.

But the next morning was church and the sermon title was "Parenting: 101."  It was only our second time there and the pastor was totally preaching AT US.  And it was a really.good.morning.  Honestly, a lot of it wasn't new.  Just some of those things you need to hear over and over again.  And it was encouraging, too.  Even though we can easily point to areas we've failed in or areas that are a constant struggle for both of us as parents.  At least we know we're on target.  We're doing our best, and praying fiercely for God to cover the bases we can't.  Because this toddler thing ... hardest job I've ever had.  And this is only the first one.

But I won't end on that note.  Because I really do love this little guy like crazy, and just like any other mom I'm amazed daily at his newest accomplishments and budding personality.  He's a ball of energy from sun-up to sun-down.  As soon as you open the door to his room he jumps up in bed and says, "Good morning, Mama!" and then he takes a few bounces, leaps off the edge and lands on the floor with a bang big enough to wake up the rest of the house.  "Wan breafest Mom, wan breafest!"  And he's off.  Our entire day is made up of Jack moving from one activity to the other.  Stopping only for potty breaks when I remind him, and even then causing a mess all over the floor because he can't stop his feet from moving and his mouth from talking.  So I find myself constantly reminding him to focus.  "Jack, watch where you're peeing!" or "Jack, pay attention to where you're walking" or "Jack, stop dancing in circles around your brother you're scaring him!"  "Jack, sit on the couch, put your hands together, and take a few deep breaths!"  And this is usually the part where he runs up to me, wraps his arms around my neck, plants his lips on my cheek and says, "Mom, you so cute! You so cute Mom!"  Gets me every time.

He's a charmer.  An energetic, observant, smart, chatty, charmer.  And I am so looking forward to seeing how God is going to take all these little characteristics, these traits that make me collapse on the couch at the end of the day with a huge sigh and a "What should I be doing differently?!" directed at the ceiling... and use them for His glory.  Because that's what we pray for every night (after Jack has jumped on the bed, bodyslammed the wall, landed upside down, kicked his covers off the edge and finally, after a few threats on my end, laid his head on the pillow) - "... God use his gifts for your glory, and may he fulfill all the plans You have for his life."  Amen.

Yes Sir, Mama! ... and other Jackisms

I know I've been lamenting recently that this is a very difficult age in Jack's life.  He's starting to throw fits when it's time to leave a place, he's refusing to change out of his pajamas in the morning, he abhors turning off the TV, he's suddenly an extremely picky eater ... but it's also been such a hilariously fun stage too.  Last night at dinner we were listening to Jack's conversation, trying not to laugh too loud.  I turned to Jon and said, "This must be the best, worst age ever!" and he said, "Someday we're going to look back and really miss these years."  So this post is all about the things we'll remember the most, the things that will continue to make us smile for years to come:

Yes Sir, Mama!
Thanks to our church network, I had a lot of friends from the south while I was growing up.  I always noticed how impressed others were with their manners, so I determined that when I got older I'd teach my kids to say "Yes, sir" and Yes, ma'am," too.  I forgot about that vow until recently.  We've been having Jack respond to any correction or command with "Yes Mama" or "Yes Daddy."  Sometimes he's very eager to comply, other times he can barely force the words out between his clamped lips.  But lately, when he's been really excited about what I just said, he's been yelling, "Yes sir, Mama!  Ok!"  And I secretly admit, I won't correct him.  In fact, I may encourage it every once in a while.  Because it's so darn cute, and it doesn't last forever!

I lik-a movie movie
Jack watched Madegascar at Uncle Micah's house in February and really enjoyed the "I like to move it, move it" song.  So he walks around singing it a lot, randomly.  Except he says "movie" instead of "move it."  Sometimes he sings this when he wants to watch a movie, but usually it's just out of the clear blue.  And almost always in a casual conversation voice.  It makes me laugh to just think about it.

Shake it, shake your booty
This is totally my fault.  We had some issues during potty training with "dripping."  At first we suggested "tapping" but Jack interpreted that as punching and would start punching himself after peeing.  So then we started telling him to "shake it" when he's done.  And one day for who knows what reason I added "shake your booty" to the end.  And Jack has never forgot.  He now says it everytime he goes pee pee.

Boo boo ouchies!
I'm not quite sure what started this phrase, seems like a very inefficient way to describe your pain.  But I think Jack has caught on because over the past few weeks he's been shortening it to just "boo boos."  He needs to shorten it, because he says it all. the. time.  All day long.  "Boo boo on my back."  "Boo boo on my foof."  "Boo boo on my shirt."  But it's just not that simple.  Because early on I started offering to kiss those boo boos to make them better.  And I was pretty impressed with myself when my child started to actually ask for a kiss ... and then walk away miraculously healed.  It was a lot of fun, and a great mommy moment.  But a few weeks in to this and I'm officially "over" the whole kissing boo boos thing.  I mean, once a day would be fine.  But it's like every 5 minutes now.  And not exactly in the most convenient location.  For instance, Jack's always getting boo boos on his toes.  (Maybe we need to get him some steel-toed boots?)  So he'll lift his little foot a mere 2 inches off the ground, and then expect preggo here to bend the rest of the way to meet him.  And just getting close is not enough.  The kiss needs to be in the exact location of the boo boo.  I can't imagine how this is going to play out a few more months from now when I'm really large.

Oh gosh, oh gosh!
This was a strange one.  When something goes wrong (a tower crashes, a ball bounces too far, a chair is kncoked over) Jack will cover his mouth with both hands and say "Oh gosh, oh gosh."  For weeks we were stumped on where he could have possibly picked this up.  It started soon after our February trip so we figured maybe he was copying one of the grandma's, because this certainly isn't something Jon or I have been known to do.  I figured it out the other day when Jack was watching his morning TV show ... Mickey Mouse says "Oh gosh" at least 10 times an episode.  Now the whole dramatic, hands covering mouth bit is another story.  Still not sure where that one came from.  But it's cute regardless.

Oh boy, oh boy
This is another one we can thank Mickey Mouse Clubhouse for.  I do think I say this occasionally too.  But it's not nearly as cute as when Jack says it.  He usually jumps up and down a few times too and says it all really fast together - "ohboyohboy!"  He gets this excited when it's time for his morning vitamin, or we're about to leave on a trip, or we've promised him a treat.  But he also uses it nonchalantly as well.  As in, "hey I'm excited but I'm sure you already know that, so let's move on to the big moment." 

I scared ...
I scared.  I scared of monsters.  I scared of Daddy.  I scared of bird.  I scared of (insert just about anything in here).  Really?  Because it's getting old.  Can you tell I'm a wee bit annoyed?  I tried, with both my kids, not to instill fear.  I purposely didn't use night lights when they were babies (or now) because I didn't want to teach them to be afraid of the dark.  We've never played games about things hiding in the closet.  We don't talk about monsters.  We don't celebrate Halloween.  We try to teach our kids to be bold and courageous, but not foolish...  So I'm kinda ticked that despite my best efforts, my child is suddenly afraid of EVERYTHING.  And I'm starting to wonder if it's due to the "Bear in the Big Blue House" episode that supposedly teaches kids to not be afraid.  I can't think of what else it would be.  Now I know that fear is natural, and I hope my kids understand that there is a healthy kind of fear.  And I certainly don't want to downplay their real fears.  But birds?  Singing in the trees?  And earthworms?  Or the "hole" underneath the front car seat that your sippy cup rolled in to?  I've gotta draw the line some where.  I'm just not sure how to do that at this point.

This is the last time I waste my sparkling grape juice on a toddler.

I tire ... Jack wanna go nigh-nigh.
Ah, I savor these moments.  These moments when my child actually asks me to put him to bed.  Sometimes this is code for "I want monkabinks" but often it's a genuine "put me to bed mom I've had a long day" request.  And I generally oblige.

I walking, I walking
You would think this means "Jack is walking" but what he's really saying is "No I won't hold your hand, I'm walking all by myself!" 

Jack's turn ... Jack do it
This is similar.  Mommy may have put syrup on his pancake yesterday but today Jack wants to do it.  And he wants to do more and more these days.

I donwanit (I don't want it)

You would think this means he doesn't want whatever you're offering, and it does technically. But it's usually "I don't want to do what you're asking me to do." Like when it's time to leave the park, or when it's time to change into clothes for the day. And it's not just a one-time phrase. He will usually say this over and over, and louder and louder, and with tears running down his cheeks and snot spurting out of his nose. Not a pretty moment.

Jude yaughing, Jude yaughing!!
This means "I know I'm doing something to Jude that I'm not supposed to, but since he's laughing that means it's okay, right?"  Usually Jude starts crying a few seconds later.

I yike it, Jack yike it!
We've started to take advantage of this through reverse psychology.  Jack likes to let us know when he likes something, so I usually make it a point to emphasize that I just know he won't like this particular food, and then he's off trying to prove me wrong.  It worked with olives last night.  Jon wanted to offer Jack an olive, I assured him (loudly) that Jack would never like it, and Jack assured us (just as loud) that he "yike" it.  And then ate a handful more.  Not bad.



I yike it, I yike throwing olives into my "sparking juice juice" and stirring it with a fork.  Jack yike it.

So he's really saying a lot, and adding more and more words each day.  And growing out of old faux paus that I found so endearing (like combining the uncles names to create "Mica-Jer").  But it's all part of the growing process.  Thankfully, I have another cutie right on his heels, who's already babbling out future funny phrases of his own.  It just goes too fast.