Luke's Three

Life with Luke has been very difficult.  If you come for a visit you can expect to be screamed at, defied, bossed around, laughed at, hugged, kissed, teased, jumped on, played with, sung to, and adored within about half an hour.  Is he bi-polar?  Is he a juvenile delinquent?  Is he a stand-up comic, an angel, an imp?

He is three.  Well, technically not until Sunday, but my little boy is a three year-old.  I don't care what they say about two, so far three is far worse.  In the last week alone we have dealt with:
Mater (the tow truck), down the toilet.  We had to call the plumber in to unplug the toilet and retrieve Mater.
Pooping on the garage floor.
Peeing on the rug in the bathroom.
Dumping the dog water out.
Putting race cars in the water glasses on the dining room table.
Writing on the walls.
Cutting his hair.
Cutting his bedsheets.  (!)
Cutting my string line for sweet peas.
Pulling dirt out of houseplants and spreading it on the floor.
Screaming at Grammy
Screaming at Grampa
Screaming at Mommy
Screaming at Daddy
Screaming
Stomping on plants in the flower bed
Getting out of bed eighty gazillion times
Crying when it's time to take a bath
Crying when it's time to get out of the bath
Crying when we have to run errands
Crying when we have to go home
Crying because Seamus is crying
Crying because time-outs are no fun
Painting his shoes with oil based primer
Dumping gasoline all over the garage floor
Complaining that he's hungry
Refusing to eat supper

And that's just what I remember right now, off the top of my head.  Now, I don't mean to make my boy sound like a total terror, because I am frequently reminded what a good-hearted child he is.  He isn't a bully, a thief or a liar.  He's imaginative, very sociable, generally wakes up on the sunny side of bed, and loves people passionately (even ones who don't seem to like him).  He has quick and creative answers to funny questions like, "What would you do if you had an elephant as a pet?"  (he would "take it for a walk on a very long leash in the morning time").  And he says things like:

I'm just boinging on the couch
How was your day, Linus?
I saw the sark Grammy!  A sark?  No, a sark!  Oh, a shark?  Yeah, a sark.
Can my birthday cupcakes have stripes?
What do I keep you safe from Luke?  Not frogs because frogs are good and they love me because I'm a good boy!
Good-night Luke, you're the best big boy.  You're the best girl, Mom.
Seamus loves me. That's why he's kicking his legs!

This boy is a handful.  A sometimes disobedient, always loud, great hugger, creative, willful, stubborn, sweet, 36 pound, handful.  And he's three.

Baby or a big boy?  Big boy.

Fathers

 

 Fathers Day now requires a plural for me.  There's my own father, my father-in-law, and the father of my children to honor on father's day.  And this year I had them all in one spot!  At this time in my life I am particularly short on eloquent words but here is what I have:  

Thank-you each for the role you play as a father in my life.  Father to me, father to the man I love, and father to my sons.  You are a wonderful role model, you bring security, love, joy, comfort, and BBQ to my days.  Thank-you for all the hugs, all the listening, and all the meat you give me.  I love you.

Mom and Baby, by Katie

I don't have many pictures of just me and Seamus.  Usually I'm behind the camera!  Last night we had some good friends over and Katie grabbed my camera and took a few photos of me and Seamus, and then lots of photos of our boys (they have Viktor and Jack).  It was such fun going through the photos this morning and seeing the evening from a different perspective.  Thanks, Katie!

Smilin'

birth announcement

This is the birth announcement I put together two days after Seamus was born to give to people at church that very first Sunday.  I haven't gotten around to making another one, or mailing any out, so here it is and feel free to print it off for yourself if my lack of organization is bugging you.

Purple

The post in which I admit

I grow weary of waking in the night
I grow weary of snatching at moments to myself
I grow weary of one poopy diaper after another
I grow weary of quack grass in my flowerbeds
I grow weary of rain
I grow weary of dirty laundry
I grow weary
I grow forgetful
I forgot your birthday
I forgot to buy cheerios
I forgot to wash that blanket that's been sitting on the couch all week
I forgot to refrigerate the leftovers
I forgot to feed the dog
I forgot to bring in my seedlings from the sun
I forgot who gave me that sweet little yellow sleeper
I forgot to write whoever it was a thank-you note
I forgot to take a picture of the clouds
I forgot to buy ink to make Seamus' footprint

I forgot what it was like to have a full vocabulary
I forgot to buy glue to repair those notecards
I forgot that I was supposed to meet you at 7,
and I'm sorry
I'm sorry I spoke to my son so harshly when he climbed on the piano bench to get the TV remote
I'm sorry that when you called I could barely string three words together
I'm sorry that I haven't cooked anything other than Kraft dinner in a month
I'm sorry I haven't taken my boys out for more fresh air
I'm sorry I got so mad when Luke dumped garbage all over the kitchen floor that I threw a toy racecar at the dog
I'm sorry that all I can hope for from the garden this Summer is a miracle
I'm sorry that we haven't come to see you, or called ... or written
I'm sorry if I smell like I haven't showered in a few days ... I haven't
I'm sorry if I'm not attentive enough to what my husband needs,
but oh so grateful that he's attentive to my needs
I'm grateful
I'm grateful that even though they were predicting rain it's been brilliantly sunny all day
I'm grateful for all the meals friends, family and strangers have made for us
I'm grateful for each flower in my yard that grows despite my neglect
I'm grateful for a husband who instinctively pulls weeds
I'm grateful for the three hour nap Luke took this afternoon
I'm grateful for the good health we've enjoyed since Seamus was born
I'm grateful for air conditioning
I'm grateful for the dishwasher
I'm grateful for sensible gifts like diapers and wet wipes
I'm grateful that I am able to overcome my grief over a plant lost to the wind because of an attitude ingrained by my father that what won't survive maybe shouldn't have been planted
I'm grateful that today is my Mom's last day of school and I'll be able to get her on the phone at all hours of the day until August
I'm grateful for a fenced in yard that allows me to send my son outside while I post the blog
I'm grateful for bran muffin batter that stays good in the fridge for 6 weeks
I'm grateful I found the energy to clean the floors yesterday ... and that our friends didn't say anything about the state of our floors the day before yesterday
I'm grateful for hamburgers and hot dogs
I'm grateful to refresh our stock of library books
I'm grateful to have a tiny baby to snuggle and kiss
I'm grateful for a big brother who never runs out of kisses for the baby
I'm grateful for friends and family who make my kid laugh, and read him stories, and feed him ice cream
I'm grateful for the few moments of peace I will find alone in the shower tonight
I'm grateful for brown cardboard boxes in the mail
I'm grateful for sunshine, sunblock, and for the little boy who thinks that when it's cloudy "We should just use the sun spray!"
I'm grateful for songs of thanksgiving before dinner  ... singing is good
I'm grateful for Luke who sings the alphabet willy nilly:  "a, b, c, q, r, s, k, l, m, n, o, x, y, z"
I'm grateful for playdough
I'm grateful that the grateful portion of this list far outstretches the "sorry" and "forgot" and "grow weary" portions.

A little more sleep and a lotta loud music

The swing is our new best friend.  Since we got batteries for it Seamus has been sleeping longer and longer stretches in the swing, which also means feeding times are getting a little further apart.  We've gone from feeding every hour and a half, to feeding every two and a half to three hours.  What a wonderful tool!  Luke never liked the swing.  I wonder what that says about how they'll be different.  Will one boy like roller coasters and the other hate them?  Will one boy like active outdoor activities/sports, and the other boy prefer sitting in a coffee shop reading?  What will they be like as adults, and will I be able to point back to the swing and say, "Yep, it all makes sense because Seamus liked the swing and Luke didn't." ?

We took Seamus to the U2 concert in  Winnipeg on Sunday night.  It was LOUD.  Thankfully we all had earplugs.  I don't have any pictures of the evening, but a stranger took our picture and shouted at us (because everyone was shouting over the noise!), "You are the coolest people I know to bring a baby to the concert.  I have to take your picture to show my wife...she's eight months pregnant.  You're the coolest people I know!"  I am honored to be the coolest stranger he will never see again.  AND he was probably drunk and won't remember why he has a random picture of strangers with a baby on his phone.  Still.

There were actually lots of very drunk people and we overheard a lot of really funny comments.  Like when the snowbirds flew over the stadium the guy behind us had his jaw on the floor, practically drooling, and said, "My life has been wasted until now.  I'm embarassed to admit how cool I thought that was."  Then there was the woman on her boyfriend's shoulders who waved her arms and shouted "Roxy!!!  ROXY!" for about half an hour until Roxy showed up and half the stadium applauded the arrival of Roxy ... mostly because it meant, thank goodness, that woman would stop shouting and showing us all her blue thong (which on it's own caused plenty of wild comments from drunken revelers).  Crazy U2 fans.

I wore Seamus in the cuddlywrap, which kept me warm enough that I didn't need a jacket, and allowed me to nurse without making a scene.  We made the mistake of having floor tickets, so we were standing the entire time, and U2 didn't actually come on stage until we'd been there for 2 hours (opening band, and then an hour to set up U2's guitars, etc.!).  My legs were SO tired.  After we'd listened to U2 for an hour (and we were fairly close to the stage - it was really fun!), Seamus decided he was done and just cried and cried and cried, and would not be comforted.  We took him out of the stadium to see if we could soothe him, but nothing for it.  So we began the 20 minute walk back to our car.  On the way back to the car we got to listen to three or four more songs and I actually enjoyed them more than the music we heard in the stadium because the volume was a little more reasonable.  I'm getting old, aren't I?  In the end, none of us have any permanent hearing loss, so I think the evening counts as a success.  Seamus' first concert.