the biggest brother

Henry, my getting-way-too-grown-up-for-my-liking 3 1/2 year old.

You know how, sometimes, your my kids are acting like heathens and running rough-shod all over you me and there's not a snowball's chance in hell you'd I'd try to take their picture? Well, you I used to try, despite the chaos...but after enough stink-eyes, ugly faces, and blood-pressure jumps, you've I've learned.

To capture my babies' best faces (or, not their worst ones anyway), I've gotta wait. I've gotta work for it. I've gotta have my bribes at the ready.

In this case, he was already in a glowing mood (James had just been put to bed...no further explanation necessary), and I told him that if he made a nice smile for my camera, I'd tickle him to smithereens afterwards.

See, everybody wins.

THREE

It was easily the best birthday yet.


Three.

This past Monday, we celebrated the little man who made us parents.

Of course, I'd be lying if I said the celebration was confined to only one day...we went ahead and wrecked all hopes for small-scale birthdays in the future by welcoming surprises, gifts, and visitors for several days before and after the actual day...not to mention throughout all hours of The B-Day - not just at the party. Go big or go home, right?!?

Jared's mom came in all the way from Tampa on Saturday, so we enjoyed a few days with her before the official festivities got under way. With her, we took the boys out to The Rainforest Cafe in Katy for the first time and it was such an awesome adventure. The boys had the best time exploring the jungle, and Henry was ecstatic when we had the waitstaff bring out a giant chocolate cake with a sparkler on top. They even sang him Happy Birthday, and the little man soaked it right up!! Last year, I think it would have completely overwhelmed him to be sung to by strangers...I love the difference a year makes. :)

On the big day, Jon-Jon brought birthday donuts over before the Birthday Boy even woke up. As he came down the stairs and realized what awaited him, the excitement began. I'm not sure it's ended yet...six days later.

Paw Paw dropped by with a few flying surprises.

Jonathan came back by for a second bite at the birthday present apple...he just couldn't wait until the evening for Henry to open his gift. Ha! Heyyer came over too, and we all had so much fun trying out the new weaponry. So much for age-appropriate and politically correct.....well on my way to winning my bid for Mother of the Year, I know. 

For the party, we enjoyed another family-only, low-key affair. We started off with dinner at a local Hibachi grill, which proved to be a perfect choice. Both of our kiddos scarfed down their suppers and loved the chef entertainment. Everything went so smoothly at dinner that, as we were leaving, I think we both sort of felt like we stole something, you know? Perfect dinners out are not exactly in our reportoire these days, so we were so pumped that the birthday magic was with us on this oh-so-special evening.

My mom and dad had everyone over to their house for the cake and presents part of the evening. We needed the space of their downstairs for the cake part (a small family gathering amounts to 16 people!)...and the cul-de-sac outside for the present part. Needless to say, Henry is at no risk whatsoever for becoming un-spoiled anytime soon. He received so many wonderful gifts from our family, and he has enjoyed every single one of them this week. Note to all parents of boys: I highly recommend ANYTHING by Imaginext (Fisher Price's toddler line) for boys of this age....since the bday, Henry is never without one of his new airplanes, helicopters, space shuttles, etc...all Imaginext...all suhhh-weeeeeet!

Family birthday cake picture!   


Mommy and Henry


Mommy and Daddy's big surprise!
 
It was a hit!!! We were just a little nervous that he would be scared to ride it...haaaa...
    

The kids were jumping curbs (on purpose) within 5 minutes.

The day was exactly as we had hoped it would be for our little big man. All of his favorite people, doing all of his favorite things, eating all of his favorite foods, and playing with all of his favorite toys.

I stumbled across this picture from last year's birthday...look at those chubber hands and babyface!! I just can't believe another year has flown by already...this is all going by much too fast for me.

A few days after the party, we visited our pediatrician for the big 3-year old check-up. It was his first "shot" appointment since, I think, 18 months...so I was a little nervous for him. Y'all know he isn't the least demonstrative kid on the block. :) He did cry a little at the stick but he was far and away more pissy about the band-aid that the nurse tried to put on his leg afterwards. The H-man just doesn't 'do' sticky things (band-aids, stickers, tattoos), so as soon as we got into the car, he ripped it off. As he did, he proclaimed loudly and laughing, "Now I'm better, mommy...I took that hurting shot right off!!" When we got home, he told Jared that he was sad when he first got his shot but he was much better after he ripped it off in mommy's car. Works for me.

So, on the week he turned three years old, Mr. Henry was 42 inches tall, 41.5 pounds, had hit all of the milestones for this age, believed that band-aids are shots, was ready for a car-date, learned how to shoot a gun, loved his family more than anything else in his world, and had the very best birthday ever.

Happy birthday to our special boy! 





pre-nap pics

Hi. I learned how to say 'cheese' this week. I say it everytime I see a camera. Or anything that looks like a camera, for that matter.

This is my big brother. My mommy says he is looking WAY too old in this picture. I just think he looks like he always looks...maybe a little nicer than usual, actually.

Here I am sitting next to him. I tried snuggling him, but it seemed like he needed his space. He's like that when he's watching Little Einsteins. I don't like TV very much, so I just practice my acrobatics while he takes in the tube.

Here is one trick I do that Mommy doesn't really care for. What does she know anyway? I think I'm awesome for learning how to do this...sometimes, I even dance up here when I think she's not looking.

The thing is, she always seems to be looking. I am also really cool, because I can do THIS.

 I moved to the middle of the floor to put on a special show just for Mommy's camera...I'm a little bit of a show-off, if you want to know the truth.

 CHEEEEEEEEEEEESE!!!

 Finally, I got him!!

We're best friends. And brothers. How cool is that? 

I think it's the coolest thing...well, it's probably a toss-up between that and my hair.

on firstborns, part 1

One day last week, while we were playing in the backyard, I was really struck by how grown up Henry is becoming. One minute, I was just watching him play pirate ship on the swingset while helping James remember to not eat sand, and the very next, I looked up and was taken aback by everything about my firstborn.

It's strange, this thing about firstborns that I am discovering. I'm sure it holds true for secondborns (and thirds and so on), but it is the first time that provides the discovery...therefore, the first time that is getting written about here. After they turn two(ish), the changes in their appearance and their developmental milestones come on so much more gradually. Day to day, they do not seem to change very much at all, in fact. But, if you take a look and then look back a few months or a year, the transformation suddenly becomes breathtaking.

Here he is last week coming down off of the skiff...

And here he is about one year ago having the time of his life with his daddy at the school park.

He was new at being a big brother and just a few months shy of two years old on this day. I remember us taking him to the park in hopes that a little quality family time focused mostly on him would help him to know that he was still our special boy (we were in the throes of new baby adjustment). Sidenote: this evening at the park was crucial in solidifying Jared as his best friend and Jedi Master, I'm sure of it. We took so many pictures as the shadows grew long, and they are all precious...so symbolic of what our family was going through and capturing beautifully the beginning of the end of Henry's 'baby/toddler' days.

    

Over the past year, we've watched our firstborn's baby/toddler-ness completely disappear. It didn't happen overnight. It didn't happen in measurable increments. It just sort of happened while we were blinking our eyes.

Today, he is a seasoned pro at being a big bother. He is six inches taller. He tells elaborate stories. He doesn't need reminding that he's our special boy...he'll tell you straight up that he is. He weighs 42 pounds. He sells his brother his bottle back after he steals it out of his hands. He imagines. He can spell his name. He knows his address. He knows everyone's first name and their 'other' name - I am Mommy, but I'm also Lizzie; my dad is Paw Paw, but he's also Lande. You get called your 'other' name when it's important. He likes sweet tea, and he loves it if you freeze it into a sweet tea popcicle. He shows compassion for his friends and family who are sick or sad by offering hugs and pats...and he always adds, "it's okay...there, do you feel better now?"

His hair is coarser...still little-kid soft but nothing like it was last summer. He has a few (read: like 400) new scratches and scars to show for another year of being all boy. His fingernails have dirt under them every single day, and we have failed at life if we haven't built a tower and a dragon out of our jumbo blocks by 10 a.m.

My firstborn was born with a red birthmark on his side. It's called a hemangioma, for those who like to google. We didn't mind it at all, but as new and doting parents, we were somewhat worried it would grow and he'd be embarrassed about it at the pool when he was older. The pediatrician told us not to worry...these types of birthmarks usually disappear by age 6. And guess what. Sometime since last summer, the disappearing process began, and now, his "checkmark," as he calls it, is just a faded shade of pink...and looking to be completely gone before another year passes.

Sometimes over these past 12 months, I have found myself feeling guilty that the H-man gets such a bad rap on the blog - that I'm always telling the stinky stories on him. I find myself wanting so badly to blow a bunch of sunshine about how perfect and easy and well-behaved he is and how blessed and relaxed and unfazed by discipline I am. What can I say, though? It's a hard freaking year, the one between 2 and 3. It's hard on everybody when there isn't anything else going on...and we had a lot (understatement) else going on. So, one day, when he's reading back over the blog book that I'm having made out of all of these ramblings, I want him to know that. The days are long when you're the mom of a 24-36 month old...but the year is short, to be sure. And no matter how much under-the-bus-throwing he got here, he's perfect just how he is.

Since we're talking about what I want him to know, I also want him to know that there has never been a year in my life that I learned or loved more. I hear words coming out of my mouth on a daily basis that I never thought I'd hear myself say. Some are words of correction...others are words of grace. Correction is hard for me. Grace comes more easily. I thank my firstborn for teaching me how to communicate both.

My eyes look more tired than other women my age. My wardrobe is almost always colored with evidence of crumb-filled mouths and sticky fingers. My bathroom walls and floors often show evidence of potty-training. We eat a lot of hot dogs for dinner. Jared and I buy things with red packaging just because it's a certain someone's favorite color (do you know that there is a brand of orange juice that comes in a red container?!?! we do!). Thomas the Train blares loudly from my car speakers, and there is rarely a time our TV is on when Mickey Mouse Clubhouse isn't filling our living room.

I love it that we've completely sold out for a 2-year old. I love it that we're unrecognizeable to our former selves...you know, the really hip, young, jetsetting, selfish people that met 5 years ago next week?  

 

That's the funny thing about firstborns, though, right? The changes in them - and in us because of them - aren't so obvious day-to-day...but if you look a few months or even years back, the transformation is simply breathtaking.

Thank you, my sweet firstborn son, for taking my breath away.

From us to you

Today, after letting me sleep until 9 and then stuffing their faces with pancakes and bacon (a family fave), my boys gave me a 'fashion show' with a few things their daddy helped them pick out. The entertainment value alone made the gift.

Happy Mother's Day...

from all of us to all of you!!

clothing optional

I have an open-door policy at my house. If you want to come over, I want you to come on over. I don't believe in the formality of scheduling visits from friends. If you want to know the truth, I don't really believe in friendships that require such forethought and party manners. What can I say...I like to keep it real up in here.

My only caveat, and I've texted or spoken these precise words at least 4 times in the past few weeks, is that you "just give me a second to throw some clothes on the streaking hooligan" who appears to have taken up residence in my home.

Nakedness is becoming a perpetual state of being over here.

I'm not ashamed of it. It doesn't bother me. It certainly doesn't bother he-who-shirks-his-pants. I just feel like everyone who may stop by is entitled to the heads up. Common courtesy, if you will.

So, there it is - a public service announcement from me to you. You're welcome.  

Quotable

Henry: Mommy, will you tell me a story one more time?
Me: Sure, but this is the last time, okay?
Henry: Okay, mommy. Thank you so much, mommy.
Me: Once upon a ti...
Henry (interrupting): Mommy, I wuv you.
Me: I love you, too, buddy. Okay, ready? Once upon a ti...
Henry (interrupting): Mommy, I wike your shirt.
Me: Thanks, Hen...
Henry: Do you like my shirt, too, mommy?
Me: Yes, I sure do. Do you want to hear the story now...okay. Once upon a ti...
Henry (interrupting again): I wike your hair, mommy. It's so beautiful.
Mommy: Thank you so much. I like your hair, too.
Henry: Okay, NOW I'm ready for the story about Shrek and Fiona and the donkey and the castle and the dragon that goes RAARRRRRR!!!!

Jared: See that hot red stuff on TV, Hen? It's called hot lava.
Henry: No, daddy, it's called hot orange juice...and it will burn babies.

Me: No, Henry, don't throw mommy's clothes pile all over the room!
Henry (copying my intonation perfectly): No, Mommy, YOU don't be MEAN to me!!
Me (laughing): I'm not being mean...I just don't want you to throw these everywhere. What does it sound like when mommy is mean?
Henry (pretend yelling): meanmeanmeanmeanmeanmeanMOMMYmeanmeanmean

Jared: Come on Henry, let's build a tower out of these blocks.
Henry: No, daddy, I want to just sit here and YOU build the tower TO ME. (I love toddlerspeak...he says 'to' instead of 'for')

Henry: Mommy, what's that?
Me: Oh, Hen, that's a squirrel that got hit by a car in the street. He got smushed.
Henry: And now he's sad because he didn't listen to his mommy and got hit by a car?

You've got a friend.

For those of you who have read here for awhile or know us IRL, you know that my big boy used to be a wee bit anti-social. Key words: used to be. Don't get me wrong, he always loved grown-ups just fine...it was other children that did him in.

Mine was the eighteen month old that would perch atop playground equipment and squawk at other children for trying to come aboard. Sometimes he would say "NO, KIDS!! GO HOME, KIDS! MINE!!" He was the two-year old who had no children over for his birthday party, because I knew he would spend the whole time hoarding toys and none of the time enjoying his day. He is occasionally the 2 1/2 year old who has to say, before exiting the car at parks and other people's houses, "I will be nice, mommy...and I won't say 'mine' to any kids."

Well-meaning friends kept telling us to put him into a MDO or playgroup....well-meaning family members and mentors kept saying he would grow out of it and to just enjoy the time he wanted to be around only us. We decided to listen to the family/mentors. Afterall, nobody knows anyone else's kid like the people who are around him all the time. Also, when it comes to my kiddos, I can honestly say that anytime I've ever been really concerned about something and 'nothing' seemed to be working, waiting it out has never steered me wrong.

Sure enough, shortly after his second birthday, the H-man started to turn it around. I like to think that it was a combination of advancing age and a really sweet little girl we know.

The first time she came to our house to play, Henry laid on top of his toys and wouldn't let her touch them. He swatted at her little brother. He had a thirty-minute long tantrum...the second half of which was spent in the comfort of his crib. Fail. Go ahead and add to that aforementioned 'combination' - other parents willing to let us practice being nice and sharing and not beating the stew out of each other on their kids.

The next time (yes, there was a next time!) we tried going to her house instead, and voila...

...thus began the most adorable of friendships. Theirs is a mutually beneficial, yet sweetly simple, sort of buddyship...he keeps her from becoming too prissy and trains her in the art of brother-take-downs.

She helps him with his manners and shows him how prissy can actually be a good thing.

He is very protective of her. Very.

And I think she's proud of how far he's come since the day he piled his toys into a closet and climbed atop so she couldn't have any.

His first friend. A milestone 2 1/2 years in the making. And, yes, he has decided that she can come to our house now, too.

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."     ~C.S. Lewis

A picture post...

On Super Bowl Sunday, we booked it up to the Big D to try and see the Pack play. Here we are all laden down with cash and feeling pretty optimistic.

 And, here we are, 9 hours later, giving up. Apparently, the price of SB tickets doesn't really go DOWN as game time approaches. At least we tried. And, at least the Packers won anyway (we were solidly convinced that they literally could not win the game unless we were in the stadium to see it). Lack of entry into the stadium aside, we had a really fun time in Dallas on our last-second-completely-spontaneous getaway. 

Sweetface eats spaghetti...it's one of his favorite foods these days.

 

He also swings.

Henry loves building huge towers with his blocks. The Jared Chesser School of Architecture and Design is clearly a top-tier institution.

Speaking of the daddy, here he is showing James where the fishies live. James can say "ishie," and we all think that's pretty adorable.

And here's the big man...with the even bigger man...trying to catch those darn fishies. Henry says they're all sleeping. Also, in a fun potty-training moment, he announced that he 'cannot go pee-pee in the water because it will land on the fishies' backs and they don't like it so it will make them cry.' I will have you know that trees, car tires, mommy's bathroom floor, and our back patio do not cry at this offense.

Happy Tuesday, one and all.

that's my boy!

Twenty-seven years ago, on fingerpainting day in pre-school, I told my teacher that I was not allowed to fingerpaint. I lied through my teeth to her and swore that my mommy didn't let me fingerpaint because I was not supposed to get my hands dirty. Dirty hands have never really been my thing...until I had boys, that is...but that's another post entirely. Tonight, on shaving-cream painting night in our house (inspired by MckMama's blog from a few days ago), Henry tells me that he isn't supposed to paint with shaving cream. Nope, said he, he just couldn't do it because his mommy and daddy don't like it when he gets his hands dirty. Note, he didn't say that he didn't want to. He said he couldn't. The first hint of shaving cream that touched his fingers had to immediately (as in, rightthatverysecond) be washed off. No amount of encouragement or "come on in, the water's fine"-esque remarks could talk him into it. Just look at how grossed out he is!We even tried, to no avail, to entice him by running HotWheels trucks through the puffy, white goodness. This only led to the cars and trucks needing a bath rightthatverysecond as well. This next photo is deceiving - it appears that he's really liking this, right? Yeah, go ahead and take a closer look at how clean his hands are. Spotless.
Oh, my boy. My. Boy. Guess dirty hands aren't really his thing either...tonight anyway.