The grandparents want it so you have to suffer through it. An update on the children, that is. Because you don’t hear enough about them in this blog.
Bode “Bubby,” 8 months
Bode is a hoot these days and enjoys laughing his squishy guts out at Hadley, doing face plants in the bath and is enjoying the effects of prune juice on his err…plumbing problems (which takes effect immediately if you’ve ever wondered).
He has also started crawling. Well, he goes about as fast as a herniated turtle and I admittedly chortle at him when he becomes high-centered like one.
I’m supportive like that.
But he has officially begun getting on all fours and scooting around. I’d like to say I’m ecstatic about it but in the end, it will just mean more work for me. Y’know because I will have to clean the floors more than once a year. I would like to believe this will be the spark he needs to become more independent but I strongly suspect it will just give him more access to his mama. Nothing like your own parasitic shadow, y’know?
Sleeping is still a challenge and he is up several times in the night. On Saturday night, we implemented Operation Suck It Up Cry It Out Tough Love. I’m not into the extreme methods but I agree with my pediatrician who advocates going in there every few minutes, rubbing their back and then letting them drown in their own slobber.
I’m supportive like that.
The Hurricane has been living up to her name and keeps a frenzied pace. When she’s not running up mountains with her little hiking group, she’s taking swimming lessons and promoting Dance Fever at the library’s storytime (she is indeed quite the little wallflower like her mama).
We have also been living and breathing potty training, with an emphasis on the breathing part because our house smells like it is just one big toilet. I’m quite sick of the whole process but the frustrating part is her inconsistency. She’ll go a couple of days with very few accidents and then will flat-out refuse to even try.
I have started implementing threats gentle coaxing wherein I bribe her with sweets and withhold privileges to which she feels entitled, such as unlimited Dora viewership. My methodology has not worked and she is perfectly content to sit in her soiled diaper sans Dora and food. And so I just eat her jelly bellies instead. I think I’ll gain 50 pounds by the time she’s finally trained.
She is also gymnastics-obsessed and I am proud to say I taught her how to do a back somersault and a head-stand last weekend while we watched our church’s General Conference on television. Because you didn’t think we’d actually sit still for four, two-hour sessions do you?
And when I say “taught” I don’t mean “demonstrated.”It was more along the lines of barking instructions from the comfort of my cozy jelly belly-ladened rear.
I’m supportive like that….
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 