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Thursday, July 26, 2012

Thank you for eating your dinner . . . in under two hours.

Gavin might be the slowest eater on the face of this planet.  I wish (for my sanity and my impending grey hairs) that I were exaggerating.  But, alas, I'm not.

Now, I know that I've mentioned before that he's a good eater, and he is.  By good eater I mean he eats a diverse selection of foods - probably more diverse than many adults that I know.  He'll still try new things, and he never really complains about what I serve him for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

It's just that it takes him two freaking hours to eat every single meal.

We went to a baseball game a few weeks back, and he ate a hot dog and chips.  It took him two and a half hours to eat the damn hot dog.  That's averaging one bit every twenty minutes, I think.

Why is he so slow?  A variety of reasons.

First and foremost, the child has to go to the bathroom twice at every meal.  I kid you not.  This is always guaranteed to happen when we're out to eat.  It goes something like this:

We order. 

Not two seconds later, Gavin announces that he has to go potty.  I take him to the bathroom, he goes, we return, and all is well. 

Until our food arrives. 

I cut up whatever he ordered, and just as I'm about to get the second or third bite of my food into my mouth, he announces that he has to go again.  I sadly look at my food, sigh loudly, and take him to the bathroom AGAIN. 

It happens every single time without fail.  Without freaking fail.



Now, let's look at a typical lunch.  I try to make Gavin's lunch and then sit him down to eat while I'm feeding Kaleb (because, consequently, they're both hungry at the exact same time).  So, I'll make him, say, a grilled cheese sandwich with applesauce and carrot sticks.  I make him sit down, he picks up a carrot, and I commence feeding Kaleb.  Two seconds later, I look over, and Gavin's lying under the table.  I tell him to get up, and he says, "But I fell out of my chair."  Uh huh.  Right.

He gets back up in the chair, eats a spoonful of applesauce.  I work on burping Kaleb, and next thing I know, Gavin is riding his scooter down the hall.  I yell at him to go sit down, and he does, but only after he tells me something "really important" (i.e. "I.  Killed.  Mufasa.").

After a few threats, he sits in the chair for an entire five minutes, but only manages to eat one more bite because he's busy singing a new song that he's just composed.  Sadly, it's not about how he's going to hurry up and eat.

About thirty minutes in, I'm losing patience, and he's lying upside down in his chair.  Since I'm now done feeding Kaleb, I go sit at the table with Gavin, and he sees this as a prime opportunity to talk.  And he talks, and he talks, and he talks, until finally I have to tell him that I'm not going to talk to him until he's done eating.  That's okay, though.  He just talks to himself then.

About an hour in, the threats get serious (throwing away toys, removing his tongue, etc.).  And, somewhere between 1.5 and 2 hours, he finally eats the last bite.  And I kind of want to cry tears of joy while simultaneously choking him (not really choke him, but you get the idea).

And guess what happens not even 20 minutes after he's finally released from the table?

"Mommy, I'm hungry!"



Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Things that are really easy when you have two kids

Some people might think that when you make the leap from having one kid to having two, things get more difficult.  And, those people would be absolutely freaking right.  Almost everything becomes twice as difficult as it was before, but that doesn't mean that other things don't become twice as easy.  You see, when you have two kids (or even three or four or five), there are things you become really good at . . . and these things are incredibly easy.

For instance, it's really easy to:

- Empty the dishwasher . . . over a period of seven hours.

- Prepare delicious dinners . . . by driving through McDonald's or picking up a $5 pizza because as soon as you turn on the stove to start to cook, shit is going to hit the fan.

- Graciously accept compliments from friends and strangers alike.  (Wait, are you saying, "Oh, you look really tired," isn't a compliment?  Shit.)

- End up with bodily fluids all over you.  It goes something like this: you're changing a diaper, your four-year-old does something naughty, you pause to correct his behavior, and poo comes flying at you.  Literally flying.  

- Challenge the Guinness Book of World Records for the shortest period of time any human being has slept and considered it a night's sleep.  (For example, I slept for two whole hours last night.  Woohoo!!!!!!)

- Have patience . . . with almost nothing, including anything that makes a loud noise and threatens to wake up the kids you finally got to sleep after a two-hour-all-out-battle-in-which-you-were-the-victor-but-felt-defeated-by-the time-it-was-over.

- Get drastically behind on work and completely forget to pay bills.  And often, forget where the hell you are and what time it is.

- Lose track of what you're doing . . . thereby ending up with conditioner still in your hair after exiting the shower on multiple occasions.  And, sometimes, you don't even notice it for a few hours.  (I make myself feel better about this by pretending I was doing a deep conditioning treatment.)

- Consume a ridiculous amount of food in a short time . . . because you've been up for four hours but haven't been able to eat breakfast, so once you can eat, you just shove anything and everything in your mouth in a two-minute period.

- Change outfits multiple times throughout the day . . . not because you just have so many cute things to wear but because you've been spit up on three times, peed on twice, and had an entire juice box squirted all over your lap.  Oh, look, I'm on to outfit #7 for the day!

- Choose to laugh instead of cry because if you cry it will just make the headache you've had for 15 hours straight that much worse.

- Create a really long list of things you want to accomplish, and feel exhilarated when you actually accomplish one of them.  Or maybe even half of one of them. 

- Roll your eyes at people who tell you they're "tired."  Yeah, that six hours straight of sleep that you got must have been really rough.  I hope you can make it through the day.  Or, maybe you should just take the day off and stay home and rest up. 

- Leave your alarm clock unplugged for weeks, because, let's face it, you're always up.  Mine was unplugged two weeks ago and counting.

I'm certain there will be even more skills I'll be able to brush up on in the near future . . . especially once teething rolls around!


Friday, July 13, 2012

Oh, is that so?

I think it goes without saying that Gavin has quite the imagination.  As he get older, and has more experiences, his imagination is growing (if it can actually do that?).  I watch him play with his toys, and I hear him incorporate different things from books we've read, movies we've watched, and things we've seen.  However, his imagination is slowly starting to creep into our everyday lives, and our conversations are becoming more and more interesting.

For instance:
Gavin: Mommy.  There something I don't want to tell you.
Me:  You can tell me anything Gavin.
Gavin: No, it's terrible.  I can't tell you this terrible thing.
Me:  It's okay, Gavin, you can tell me.
Gavin:  Big sigh.  One time . . .(dramatic pause) I got lost in the jungle.

Oh, yeah?  Glad you shared that with me.

Or:
Gavin: Mommy, bend down so I can whisper in your ear.  I have a secret to tell you.
Me:  It's okay, Gavin, you can just tell me without whispering in my ear.
Gavin: No, I have to tell you in your ear.
Me:  Okay, fine.  What is it?
Gavin:  I killed Mufasa.

Really, all this time I thought it was Scar . . .

Last night, he wanted to have a sleep over with his cousins.  He was excited about it, until bedtime rolled around.  I think the fact that I was still there and hadn't left yet was the deciding factor in his not actually staying the night.  Shortly after all the kids were in the bed, he comes downstairs crying.

Me:  What's wrong, Gavin?
Gavin:  I'm scared.
Me:  What are you scared of?
Gavin:  Bears.
Me:  Well, I'm pretty sure they got rid of all their bears a long time ago, so you can just go back upstairs and go to sleep.
Gavin:  No, Mommy, I'm scared of bears.

After repeated attempts to get him to lie down on the bed (knowing he'd pass out as soon as he did), I ended up taking him with me when I left.  When we were talking about why he didn't end up having a sleepover with his cousins, he again mentioned that he was scared.

Me:  There was nothing to be scared of, Gavin.
Gavin:  Yes, there was.  I was very scared.
Me:  There aren't any bears in Aunt Amy's house, Gavin.  That's just silly.
Gavin:  Not bears, Momma.  I was afraid there was going to be a space storm.
Me:  A space storm?
Gavin:  Yes, I'm afraid of space storms.
Me:  Well, we're not in outer space so I don't think you have to be too afraid of space storms, Gavin.
Gavin:  But, Mommy, Earth is in space.

Touche.

As he has more and more experiences, I cannot wait to see what else he comes up with.  Or, maybe I should be afraid . . .