Pockets and Smells

Ian has discovered that things have pockets. He searches for them in purses and diaper bags; digs through coats and sweaters; comments on strangers' pockets. Too many times I've heard a distant rattle coming from the laundry room only to discover upon opening the washing machine that a handful of stones has found its way out of his pockets and into the drum. I've also found half chewed granola bars, sucked-on mints from restaurants, dandelion flowers, dinky cars, Lego pieces, Crayola marker lids, stickers; you name it, it's been in Ian's pockets. Pockets are such an attraction these days that he refuses to wear anything that doesn't have them but will quickly agree to get dressed if you throw pockets into the equation. "Ian, it's time to put your clothes on. Guess what? Your shorts have... POCKETS!" And he'll come running.

Kyle continues to charm me. Maybe I've learned to enjoy my time with him now because in a way I feel like I missed out on a lot because of the PPD. Or maybe it's because deep down I know that he's going to be way too big way too fast - after I get through the next 7 years of NOs, WHYs, and BUTs. Perhaps since he's the very last one I want to savour every single moment and breathe in all his baby scent so maybe I'll be able to call upon the soothing smell when I'm old and mad that he's out past curfew. There's something about baby smell that just calms my soul. It's not even the bubbly water he soaks in for his bath, or the cream I lather into his chubby creases; he just has this smell. When he opens his mouth and his tongue passes by my nose, it leaves a wet spot that smells as sweet and clean as anything I could imagine. If I could bottle that scent I'd be a billionaire. Because everyone wants to be able to call upon pure, virgin, baby smell when they need it most: when life gets too hectic and we need a reminder of why we started on this journey so long ago. It's perfect.

Rabbit Lunch

Today at lunch Ian was chatting away as he always does about cats milling around under his highchair waiting for something to drop, the city bus driving past our house, the fly buzzing on the window; then he said, "Look! Yellow rabbit." Hmm. Perhaps there was a rabbit in the backyard. I asked him where and he answered, "right here," and pointed to his plate of noodles in front of him.

Indeed, there's a yellow rabbit. Complete with a pepper grind eyeball. Is he freaking brilliant or what?




Here's the original so you can see what he saw:

Humor

Shaun: Ian, do you want to smell my bum? *erupts into uncontrollable giggles*

Ian: *walks over to Shaun, bends down, smells Shaun's bum*

Shaun: *giggling so hard he can barely get the words out* Ian, I just farted and farts are made from poo. You smelled my poo!

Ian: *runs crying to me* Mumma, Non-non 'mell! Noooooo!

Free Collectible

A talkative, smart, almost-five year old is free to a non-smoking home for a short-term arrangement.

He keeps his room neat and always places his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. He loves Lego and playing out scenes as a pirate or a knight. He also has a fascination with snakes and dinosaurs but is terrified of blood of any kind: real or fake; his or someone else's. Fruits and most vegetables are a sure winner with him, whereas meat is hit and miss, and grains are a big 'nope'. Outside activities he enjoys include road hockey, golf, making bows and arrows, and building things in the sandbox with leaves and sticks. You'd be able to sleep in every day with him around because he's in bed before 8PM, doesn't wake up through the night, and sleeps at least 12 solid hours.

The potential family must be able to listen to him talk non-stop from morning until night; through mealtime, while on the toilet, while brushing teeth, during story time, when the radio is on... non stop. They also must be prepared to have their world revolve around him, as he constantly interrupts and insists on being THE center of attention at all times. He gets along really well with younger siblings but only while he's in charge.

Duration of the visit would depend on how much I miss him and how much I am longing for his return. Delivery can be arranged for a small charge. Clothing and his favourite toys will be included but will need to be returned with him.

I love him to death; he's my firstborn. I need some time to be reminded of WHY I love him. Having a few days without him would be beneficial.

This super deal won't last long. Contact me soon! ;)

Six Months - Part Deux

I felt the need to commemorate Kyle's 6 month birthday but didn't have the time to actually say anything until now. And I think my attempt at doing something artistic with his first sitting-up photo is pitiful. Oh well. I can't be perfect at everything!

So, yes, Kyle's 6 months old and I'm six months away from being completely free from breastfeeding, pregnancy, hormones, labor, baby books, choosing a name, baby food, diapers... well, not diapers but that will come soon enough! I am done having children. Never have I felt it as strongly as I do at this moment. I have no doubt that 3 is the perfect number for me. It's been partially imposed on me since Craig has made sure to tell me that he will not be making any more babies, but also I know in my deepest thoughts that there are no more babies. And I'm okay with that. No, I'm great with that.

I had a brief - what shall we call it - waver, I guess, back when I was around 6 months pregnant with Kyle. Craig had always said that we could have as many kids as I wanted as long as we could financially support all of them. In my head I was thinking 5 but was only brave enough to chuckle about having 4 in front of him. I had all these schemes up my sleeve on how we were going to pay for this or that because I truly believed I was meant to be a mum to a brood of children. We were blessed with the ability to have children and have them turn out healthy (well, Ian's a complete nutball but that's for another post!) so who are we to decide when enough is enough. We are responsible parents, that's who. I'm positive we'd be able to continue to be financially secure with another child in the house, heck, another 2, even. But we'd be strapped and the kids would eat a lot of oatmeal and ham sandwiches and pasta. We'd never be able to do half of the things we've promised ourselves we will do with our kids and we certainly don't want to live like that. Three is a perfect number.

Do you know how I know? Well, I'll tell ya. I know because putting away the baby stuff as Kyle outgrows it doesn't make me sad. I'm washing it and removing all the stains just like I'd be using it on another baby, and folding it carefully before placing it into the bin, but then the bin is making its way to another family and all I can do is think about how cute their little guy will be in all those outfits. I'm taking pictures of the crib all put together because it'll be sold when Kyle's done using it. When something is put away I make sure the instructions are with it and package it all neatly so the eventual garage sale goes off without a hitch. Every milestone that Kyle reaches is really and truly the very last time I will see one of my babies do that for the first time, and that makes me happy. I have so many other milestones to look forward to that I can't even begin to feel sad about what I'm leaving behind.

It's like people hoarding things in their house because of the memories attached to them. The stuffed pig from the carnival that your dead uncle won for you playing Wack-A-Mole is not your uncle. The memory of your uncle will not disappear when the stuffed pig is gone. Same with the crib, the Moses Basket (oh, how I love that basket), the tiny newborn slippers, the Nuk soothers, the basket of washclothes beside the rocking chair to wipe spit up from nighttime feeds; it's all memories but it's also all stuff.

I feel lighter already having put away the playpen from the living room. Kyle's sturdy enough to sit without toppling now and the rest of the family has gotten quite used to him being around so there's not much risk of him being trampled. Not as much as when he was a newborn and Ian had only been walking for 3 months, anyway. The playpen, while it was great to use as a change station, it ended up collecting a lot of things that didn't belong in there once Kyle didn't nap in it anymore.

Back when I was still in high school I remember this radio program where they'd challenge a caller to find a secret item in their junk drawer. The item would be revealed on air while the caller was on hold and then they had to name off everything in their junk drawer within a time limit to win a prize. I have a junk drawer, believe it or not, and it's chockablock full of junk. So full that the playpen became my second junk drawer for things that were too big to fit in the official one. I would kick ass at that game if it were still on the air.

Hmm, funny, I started this post with all these thoughts in my head of how to update it for Kyle's semi-annual and I've succeeded at doing everything but.


He went for his shots and check up this morning:
Weight - a hefty 18 pounds, 14 ounces
Height - 27 1/2 inches long (tall?)

In comparison, Shaun was 1 and a half pounds lighter and Ian was 2 pounds lighter at the same age. Kyle's the size the other two were at 9 months old. The other two are beanpoles so it's going to interesting to see what happens to Kyle as he grows and becomes more active. I think he's going to have a Martin face but Jambor body structure, whereas Shaun and Ian look moreso like me and are lanky like Craig was as a kid. I tease Craig that he was skinny because he was malnourished and ate strawberry milkshakes (milk with a big scoop of strawberry jam stirred in) and raw hotdogs every day of the week.

Six Months

Troll

I think Shaun's trying to be a fierce knight here, given the knight's tunic he's wearing and the sword he's wielding. But I think he looks like a grumpy old troll!