Jaxen on the move.
Originally uploaded by momofcolin_chloe
We're on the go folks. He doesn't move to fast unless he's after his train. Anytime you get it started he goes after it. Tons of fun!
Friday, September 24, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Chudder and His Brudder Butter
Chloe has always had her own little language. She was slow to start with only 1 word at a year and when she did get going she started speaking her own little language that we refer to as "Chloese." She intermingles correct words improperly into everyday conversations that bring us to tears with laughter. For example, polka dots were polka nuts for a while. Once, she was very adamant that she couldn't wear her "soup (suit) into the freckles (sprinkler) with her see-saws (sandles) because they will make mustards (blisters)." Her speech has gotten better but she often reverts to Chloese. Most recently, I've been attending yogurt (yoga) class.
Jeremy and I were having a very vivid discussion that I expect most couples have every now and again. The whole wife thinks husband is not doing enough discussion when said wife is overwhelmed and breaks down. I came from a single-parent home and disagreements were not a part of my earlier years as my parents divorced when I was very young. As a result, I suck with confrontational situations. I avoid them; I don't resolve them well; they make me anxious. As a result of this, Jeremy and I have never carried on our adult discussions behind closed doors, especially in relation to household activities. I think it's crucial for our kids to see that we can "discuss," resolve, and move on all while proving that you can disagree and still love each other. That being said, we were having a "discussion," which mostly consisted of me melting down and crying about being featured on an upcoming episode of "Hoarders," while Jeremy cautiously agreed with me that we needed to do more even though he thought he was clearly doing enough...which he is. I'm just a tad psycho due to exhaustion.
To which Chloe shouts out "be nice to Chudder" and Jeremy responds "Who's Chudder?" To which I giggle "You know Chudder," pointing to Colin,
"and his other brudder, Butter," pointing to Jaxen, sending us all into a fit of laughter, except of course Chloe who is never amused by the jaunting. Poor girl. I love Chloese. I know the days are limited until it completely disappears and is replaced by well-spoken English.
Jeremy and I were having a very vivid discussion that I expect most couples have every now and again. The whole wife thinks husband is not doing enough discussion when said wife is overwhelmed and breaks down. I came from a single-parent home and disagreements were not a part of my earlier years as my parents divorced when I was very young. As a result, I suck with confrontational situations. I avoid them; I don't resolve them well; they make me anxious. As a result of this, Jeremy and I have never carried on our adult discussions behind closed doors, especially in relation to household activities. I think it's crucial for our kids to see that we can "discuss," resolve, and move on all while proving that you can disagree and still love each other. That being said, we were having a "discussion," which mostly consisted of me melting down and crying about being featured on an upcoming episode of "Hoarders," while Jeremy cautiously agreed with me that we needed to do more even though he thought he was clearly doing enough...which he is. I'm just a tad psycho due to exhaustion.
To which Chloe shouts out "be nice to Chudder" and Jeremy responds "Who's Chudder?" To which I giggle "You know Chudder," pointing to Colin,
"and his other brudder, Butter," pointing to Jaxen, sending us all into a fit of laughter, except of course Chloe who is never amused by the jaunting. Poor girl. I love Chloese. I know the days are limited until it completely disappears and is replaced by well-spoken English.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
What's Wrong?
First, let's discuss what's wrong with me blogging at 3:45 a.m. Many things. Insomnia seems to be the newest method by which my body likes to torture itself. So alas, after lying in bed for hours, I just give up. The first few hours come easily and then upon Jaxen's late night rendezvous, which usually begins around 1-2 a.m., I lie in bed thinking, tossing, and turning.
Tonight's thoughts revolved around a conversation I had with another mom. For the full picture, we have to flashback. Are you ready? Ten years ago, I was given this beautiful baby boy. Ten years ago I was thrilled to have him in my life. As odd as it may seem, Jeremy and I never really questioned Colin's health upon his birth. Shocking, I know. But we had been given this little man and he was ours and he was simply better than ANYTHING we had ever thought possible. He was perfect. Simply perfect. It wasn't until we started noticing small developmental issues like not holding himself upright well and eating and digestive issues that we questioned anything. Still, on more than one occasion as I walked through a store or sat waiting in line with him somewhere, another person would question me asking "what's wrong with him?" My response: "NOTHING." Simply put, he is perfect. He was perfect, he is perfect. He is Colin. Simply put. I refuse to answer that question with anything more.
So recently, Colin, after quite a long time of having his hair long, which hid the ear he has had reconstructed, decided to go short again. Mind you, the hair was not long for this purpose; he simply liked the style. Of course, the new cut inevitably put his most noticeable difference on more prominent display. I admit, I was nervous about the return to school for him. Not that the long hair kept him from having to deal with his issues, but I was sure that it helped alleviate the frequency of curiosity from the other kids. He returned home shortly after school began confirming my suspicions. "Everyone's asking me what happened to my ear," he says. "And what do you say," I ask. "Nothing." At first, I thought he meant he didn't respond to the question. To which I giggled and responded that curiosity would cause them to continue to ask, especially if he didn't respond. To which he promptly assured me, "No, I say NOTHING." To which I giggled again and responded "well, they still may continue to ask," and he asked why. I tried to equate it to another kid coming into school the next day with a broken leg being asked the same question and responding in the same manner. (I know, TERRIBLE comparison, but I'm doing my best here...it's a learning curve.) I said, "even if he said nothing, you would still be curious because, clearly, something happened, so you might continue to ask." Colin responded "no, I wouldn't. I would assume that if he said nothing he didn't want to talk about it and wouldn't ask again." Smart boy.
So, back to the conversation I had with the other mother today. At the start of boy scouts this week, the short hair brought on some similar conversations with some of the cubbies who don't attend Colin's school, and another mother shared the conversation she overheard. One of the boys asked Colin "what's wrong with your ear?" Colin's response: "What's wrong with your face?"
Okay, so I won't openly condone that retort in conversation with him. I silently cheered. Inside, I was jumping up and down and shaking my pom-poms. It's simply wrong to ask what is WRONG with a person who has a difference. Differences aren't WRONG. In anticipation of the difficult adolescent years, I have clearly not given this child the credit he deserves. I think I've been worrying about a whole lot of something that is clearly, NOTHING.
Tonight's thoughts revolved around a conversation I had with another mom. For the full picture, we have to flashback. Are you ready? Ten years ago, I was given this beautiful baby boy. Ten years ago I was thrilled to have him in my life. As odd as it may seem, Jeremy and I never really questioned Colin's health upon his birth. Shocking, I know. But we had been given this little man and he was ours and he was simply better than ANYTHING we had ever thought possible. He was perfect. Simply perfect. It wasn't until we started noticing small developmental issues like not holding himself upright well and eating and digestive issues that we questioned anything. Still, on more than one occasion as I walked through a store or sat waiting in line with him somewhere, another person would question me asking "what's wrong with him?" My response: "NOTHING." Simply put, he is perfect. He was perfect, he is perfect. He is Colin. Simply put. I refuse to answer that question with anything more.
So recently, Colin, after quite a long time of having his hair long, which hid the ear he has had reconstructed, decided to go short again. Mind you, the hair was not long for this purpose; he simply liked the style. Of course, the new cut inevitably put his most noticeable difference on more prominent display. I admit, I was nervous about the return to school for him. Not that the long hair kept him from having to deal with his issues, but I was sure that it helped alleviate the frequency of curiosity from the other kids. He returned home shortly after school began confirming my suspicions. "Everyone's asking me what happened to my ear," he says. "And what do you say," I ask. "Nothing." At first, I thought he meant he didn't respond to the question. To which I giggled and responded that curiosity would cause them to continue to ask, especially if he didn't respond. To which he promptly assured me, "No, I say NOTHING." To which I giggled again and responded "well, they still may continue to ask," and he asked why. I tried to equate it to another kid coming into school the next day with a broken leg being asked the same question and responding in the same manner. (I know, TERRIBLE comparison, but I'm doing my best here...it's a learning curve.) I said, "even if he said nothing, you would still be curious because, clearly, something happened, so you might continue to ask." Colin responded "no, I wouldn't. I would assume that if he said nothing he didn't want to talk about it and wouldn't ask again." Smart boy.
So, back to the conversation I had with the other mother today. At the start of boy scouts this week, the short hair brought on some similar conversations with some of the cubbies who don't attend Colin's school, and another mother shared the conversation she overheard. One of the boys asked Colin "what's wrong with your ear?" Colin's response: "What's wrong with your face?"
Okay, so I won't openly condone that retort in conversation with him. I silently cheered. Inside, I was jumping up and down and shaking my pom-poms. It's simply wrong to ask what is WRONG with a person who has a difference. Differences aren't WRONG. In anticipation of the difficult adolescent years, I have clearly not given this child the credit he deserves. I think I've been worrying about a whole lot of something that is clearly, NOTHING.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Quote of the Day
“We never know what is enough until we know what's more than enough.” Billie Holiday.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Contentment in Chaos
The Clan has exploded and in trying to catch the pieces, I've neglected my blog. Baby Jax entered the world just short of 9 months ago and the pregnancy and days and then months following have been shear chaos. I love having him in my life; I'm still adjusting to the chaos that 3 children bring to our home. Jax, of course, like Colin and Chloe has reflux. With each child, it's gotten worse and his is by far the worst. Prevacid in the morning and Zantac at night and rice in the bottles and still it persists. It's been a long, sleepless 9 months. He is the chubbiest baby I can honestly say I have EVER seen. I love every roll. Colin and Chloe are as in love with him as Jeremy and I are. It's been amazing to watch this beastly bundle of joy bring our family closer together than I ever thought possible. He is our heart and our sun and makes us all smile constantly. The times that Colin and Chloe have announced that they are so glad we have "bubba" are numerous and it overjoys my heart. I'm so thankful for him.
So...my house is a wreck, I've only dried my hair a total of 3 times in 9 months, we're all running on less sleep, and we're blissfully happy. I can honestly say through the exhaustion, I've never been happier. I think the Clan is complete.
So...my house is a wreck, I've only dried my hair a total of 3 times in 9 months, we're all running on less sleep, and we're blissfully happy. I can honestly say through the exhaustion, I've never been happier. I think the Clan is complete.
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