Exercising with a five year old.

First of all, exercising with a five year old is definitely not a good idea. I've been trying to figure out how to exercise during the day, so that I have don't have to do it at nine o'clock each night when I'm already exhausted. Since Isaac cries when I pee, it seemed a far fetched plan that he would contentedly play while I spent an hour exercising. Well, as it turns out, he wasn't the problem. My little sports commentator was, and I heard each of these phrases, at least two times: 

She's better than you.

Why aren't you doing it. 

Look, I'm doing it better than you. 

She has her leg up higher. 

Why are just laying there. 

I'm hungry. 

Why can't I have the weights? 

I really wanted the weights!

I'm starving. 

She's doing it way faster. 

I'm sooo hungry. I'm starving. I need something to eat right now!

You need to do it faster, like her. 

Are you done yet? 

When can I eat? 

I'm seriously considering re-joining the gym. 

Isaac thought it was hilarious that he could put his pacifier on this toy and then put it in his mouth.

We are also working very hard at getting him to agreeably sit with us for dinner, and have a tube feeding at the same time (that's the tricky part). The last two nights it has worked perfectly. In his mind, tube feeding + high chair = DVD player, or else I'll scream forever. So we are very grateful for a couple peaceful meals.

If I'd kept track of the hours Isabella spent cleaning the chalk board over the past few days, you would assume I was running a child labor camp. It's clean. And I never asked her to do it. Obviously. If I'd ask she would have thought I was torturing her.

Isaac's Occupational Therapist is amazing. First of all, she's the polar opposite of me. This means that she is always super peppy and when she sees Isaac she says, "HIIIGH FRIEND!" in a really loud high pitched voice, and has so much energy, that I wish I could bring her home with me. She dressed up as a ladybug on Halloween, which totally freaked Isaac out, but he got over it and agreed to work with her that day. I reserve my high pitched happy voice for Stella and our nighttime cuddle, which always make Walter roll his eyes. It goes something like this: Well there's my puppy daaawwg. Oh what a cute Stella Bella. You're my poopsie poopsie puppy do...okay, that's probably enough. Please don't stop reading my blog now. It's our moment, okay?

She tried to get Isaac to pretend he was eating the rice. He gave her an intense look of disgust and refused to touch the spoon.

Another mom at OT was commenting on how angelic Isaac always looks..."does he ever scream?" Does he ever! The kid has lungs of steel. Don't let his blonde curly hair and big blue eyes fool you! Just hang out at my house for a day and a night.

Isaac has started using a few new signs lately: outside, like, stuck, train (correctly, instead of his own variation), sit (which has only increased his bossiness), diaper, out, open, shoes, socks. He is always saying some new sounds, and makes verbal approximations to the words: Woody (essential), help, house, home, Mario (another important one), Wii (can you tell what he likes yet?), Luigi (yep), Isabella (ba), Oma, Opa, Papa, and I'm sure a few others.

In OT he is working on some fine motor skills such as, zipping a jacket (we practiced about thirty times during ballet today, so he's pretty good at that one now), and also everyday tasks like helping to put his pants on (now if I can get him to stand, and ask him to show me a leg, he will help put his leg in his pants), taking on and off socks and shoes (which we're actually going to stop working on since he is getting his braces next week, and he will have to work up to wearing those all day), recognizing that he needs a diaper change, telling us what he wants without throwing a tantrum, touching food, transitioning from playing with one toy to playing with another (agreeably), and about a million other things. We're a very long way from these everyday tasks, but he is making progress in baby steps, and we'll take it!

My lesson learned for the day: don't put hummus in Isaac's blend. He's been smelling like garlic for several hours. I like garlic, but when it's burped up...totally gross. I hope you enjoyed that little tidbit of information.

Goodbye!

Part 2 of The Mouse and the Raven

As promised, Part 2 of The Mouse and the Raven:

Mouse and Raven were spending a summer afternoon under an oak tree. Raven was acting particularly aloof despite Mouse's attempts at engaging him in conversation. Mouse kept in mind Raven's tendency to be capricious, so he waited patiently for his mood to change.

Suddenly, Raven blatantly stated his wish to become the vanguard of a movement against the Robins. Those cute little Robins drove him crazy. They had a tendency to believe their children were especially precocious and bragged on and on about their early flight skills.

Mouse could easily concur that the Robins were in fact, annoying. They were also adamant that the animal community watch their effortless take offs and landings.

Initially, the Raven chose to sit on a higher branch and make sporadic loud noises. This didn't bother the Robins in the least. In fact, they found it negligible.

Meanwhile, Mouse felt it was obligatory that he have a discussion with the Robins. After all, the Raven was his friend, and if you recall, Mouse was a very congenial creature.

The End.

Just so you know, Walter totally made fun of me for having my note cards strewn out across the dining room table.

Blogger isn't uploading my pictures in a semi-speedy fashion, so I give up. Next time, pictures and updates about the kids. I know that's what you're more interested in.

Some conversations...

Last night, I finally learned what it's like to a man. I went to sleep, and slept so soundly that I didn't hear either one of my children wake up. And when I woke up, it was morning. Amazing. Maybe I should get a sex change. Our insurance covers those, but they don't cover Isaac's therapy. So I might as well take advantage of what they do cover.

In Walter's defense to the whole man thing, over the past six months he's been much better about helping with Isaac throughout the night. 

"Mommy, you been wearing those clothes for two days."
"So?"
"Well, you're not allowed to wear them today."

I don't know where she gets her grammar from. I also don't see anything wrong with wearing the same pajamas, I mean, outfit, multiple days in a row.

"Isabella, when we get home, you need to do your school work."
"Why? I don't want to do it. I wish school never existed."
"Sorry. You're in kindergarten, so you have to do your work."
"I wish I could live all by myself. Then I'd be the happiest I never been before."
Ditto.

One night, Walter came home from work and we all sat down to dinner (minus Isaac, who chooses dinner time to scream, so we try our best to ignore him). Walter kept looking at me, and finally I said, "What is wrong? Why do you keep looking at me like that?" "Did you do something different to your hair, or just take a shower?" If he were so lucky to be the most popular person in our house, he probably wouldn't shower daily either. Little people don't cry when he goes to the bathroom. I wasn't one of the popular kids in school, so this must be some kind of evil payback for ever wishing that I was one of the popular kids. I don't WANT to be popular! I PROMISE! 

Isabella and I were having a conversation in the car today about school. Apparently, she was under the impression that schooling stops when you turn six. Oh dear. I asked her what she specifically does not like about school so that we could work to change it so that she does like school. Her response: "I don't like that my worksheet doesn't have column addition on it yet, and that I don't know addition house eight." And here the whole time I thought I was doing something wrong. These are easy problems to fix.

Isaac, in the "man chair".

Isabella's profound thought of the day:

"If God didn't make ears, the world would be so peaceful. Then we wouldn't hear anything." Maybe she's getting tired of hearing herself talk? I don't know.

After voting:

"Mommy, do you think you'll win?"
"No, silly! I don't want to be President. That would be horrible!"
"That wouldn't be horrible. You would just get to talk a lot!"

I take that back, I guess she isn't tired of hearing herself talk.

Next time, the story of The Mouse and the Raven continues. Also, I'm working on a page where I can share tube feeding and also blenderized diet information. Let me know if you have any questions you'd like answered.

Goodnight,

Sierra

For those who need some clarification...

"Babe, did you read the story on my blog?"
"Yeah, um, I mean I read most of it. Did you copy it from somewhere?"
"No! I wrote it. I wouldn't copy something and not give it credit!"
"Well, is it some kind of inside joke? Or does it mean something? I didn't understand."
"Babe, it's a story that includes all of my vocabulary words." (Duh)
"Oh, well, I just don't know anyone else who would do that. I thought you were just supposed to write out the words and memorize them."
"That's called, spelling. With vocabulary you're supposed to practice using them in sentences."
"Yeah, sentences, not a story."
"A story is a compilation of sentences." (He's an engineer, you'll have to forgive him)

Yes, I'm weird, and I wrote a story about a mouse and raven, just so that I could use my nifty vocabulary words. I tend to believe that I am a funnier person than I actually am. And no, the story does not mean anything. I promise. But please, let me know if you analyze it and find something.

Verbal Advantage

My sister is studying for the GMAT. I flipped through her study books, checked out the vocabulary section, saw the math section and wanted to throw up, and then thought, "man, I'm getting dumb." Do you ever feel like along with your baby you birthed out your brain? I do. I've only had two kids, and can only imagine how dumb those of you with more than two kids feel. My brother and sister never fail to point out my grammatical errors on my blog. I know. I see them too. In my defense, Isaac is usually sitting on my lap. And as I already said, my brain disappeared with the placenta (two times).

I'd always thought I would go to grad. school. It was one of my marriage stipulations: sure, I'll marry you, but we'd better have a dog by our first anniversary, and you'd better be prepared for me to get my Ph. D , just because I have your children, doesn't mean I'm not going to be a Professor. Oh, and just so you know, I'm never doing your laundry, so good luck with that! Yeah, whatever. I got the dog. Higher education. Not yet, and maybe never. And the laundry thing, well, I like my husband to wear clean clothes, so I do all the laundry. So much for my feminist spirit. I'm sorry Dr. Stevenson (my favorite professor, of British Lit., which became my undergrad "specialty"), I really tried.

That's right, British Literature. Which basically means I should be the snobbiest snob of literature. Don't worry, I'm not. I read The Hunger Games, after all. This also means, I should have an amazing vocabulary. I don't, and I know it. I have really smart friends. My friend, Emily, she uses a lot of big words, and she speaks fluent Spanish, and translates for court cases, and is pretty much amazing. My other friend, Jamie, she teaches a writing course at Kent State University. Man, I'd love to do something like that! Guess what's stopping me, that scary math section on the GRE.

All of that to say, I've decided that I need to something, and a good starting point, in my mind (because math is never a good starting point, in my opinion), is to increase my vocabulary. I often get these ideas in my head, and then it's full speed ahead. These ideas rarely pan out, aside from my photography obsession, which has actually been successful and worthwhile.

"Isabella, why don't you bring your homework over to this table, and you can do homework while I do my homework."
"You don't have homework!"
"What are you talking about, my whole life is homework!"

I bought a book called, Verbal Advantage 10 Easy Steps to a Powerful Vocabulary by Charles Harrington Elster. I do not consider "10 Easy Steps" to take up 459 pages, but, okay. If nothing else, this book is thorough. I had to take a pretest (a test of 100 vocabulary words), and the author wrote, "Here's what you should do: Take the following pretest, calculate your score, and then put it out of your mind." He just might be crazy. How is that supposed to work? I calculate my score, realize I'm dumber than I thought, and then try to forget about it? Sure thing, Charles.

Here's a story for you:

A mouse and a raven were friends. The raven was congenial to the mouse, even though he could have easily snatched him up for dinner. But the mouse had an uncanny ability to entertain the raven. They spent a considerable amount of time discussing in candor how their lives differed, and what challenges they faced. The mouse was the more pragmatic of the two. He was concerned for his life, and knew that many predators would gladly eat him for dinner. But he was also adept at hiding, and protecting himself and his friends.

The raven was often morose and at his worst, sullen. He would admit to the mouse his own misanthropy, and become saturated in his tears with sadness because he could never become as congenial as his friend, mouse.

The mouse was sad for his friend, and tried to tell him that it was ostensible that he wanted to be a kind and good raven. He would often paraphrase his friend's words, so that he may realize he could become a kind and good raven, even sanguine. But the mouse would digress and talk about his own hardships, to the point that the raven became once again, lugubrious. 

The End

Enjoy your Sunday,

Sierra

Story-time adventures...

As I crawled into bed...
"I hope you have the heat set high enough that the pipes won't freeze."
"Well, that all depends on the temperature that pipes freeze."
"Below 40." According to a quick search, your home should be at 50 degrees or higher. 
"Oh, don't worry then! I keep it at 58 at night! And Babe, just so you know, as a special treat just for you, I turned up the heat to 68 before you came home from work. We don't want your little toes to get cold!"
Wimp.

As you all know, Isaac has taken off and is walking everywhere! I love it, and he's doing so well. He even tries running and jumping, which makes me laugh every time. He's starting to feel like one of the big kids, which I think is helping him make progress in areas where we felt stuck for a long time. Our goal for walking, was age three. So we are still in that, "oh my goodness you just walked into the office and found me!" stage. It's a lot of fun.

With Isaac's therapy schedule, we miss out on regular story-time for him, so last month I decided to take the kids to an evening story-time offered by Isabella's preschool director. After we walked in and the kids started playing, and parents were sharing their child's ages and stages, I quickly started to feel a little down. There were three other two and a half year old boys, and those situations are hard for me. The differences become more apparent, and my instinct is to just grab my child and go so that I don't have to see how behind we are. I wanted to leave, and I probably would have if Isabella wasn't already engrossed in a craft and Isaac was already attached to train table.

I'm so glad we stayed, because Isaac amazed me. He did every hand motion; he stood up and took part in the dancing and pretending; he listened to every story. It was the best night I've had in a long time. I watched him follow along with the other kids, and couldn't stop the tears from coming. The pictures in this post are from story-time at the same place, but during the day. Once again, he did a great job, and I am so proud of him.

His job was to hold a hat for one the songs they acted out...

Kindergarten is going well. Some days are good, other days I want to drop her off at the nearest elementary school. Here we are doing a science experiment with water, oil, and food coloring.

Watching and waiting...

I love when we come home from the library with a pile of books, and they sit down and go through all of them.

Lately, my house has looked like that scene in Toy Story 3, where the daycare class runs into the room and the toys basically explode everywhere. Except, in my house, there are only two kids. This is an example of very purposeful toy distribution. A parking lot. And if anyone dared to touch it, well, then we had a very angry five year old on our hands.

We love reading any book by Mo Willems. Walter doesn't understand why we think they're so funny. Truth be told, we just have a better sense of humor. Blarggie! Blarggie! 

With the new furniture, we have new house rules. One of those rules is: NO DOGS ALLOWED on the furniture! Stella acts very pathetic, and saunters off to our room when we tell her she isn't allowed on the couch. Then I find her there in the middle of the night. Bad dog!

It took me close to an hour to put together this Lego airplane. Isaac sat and intently watched the entire time.

Making music for our dance party.

And lastly, some cute kids I know...

I'm planking

Walter and I were in the process of moving a dresser to a different room and we set it down so that I could take break,
"Oh, wait a minute..." (as he hopped on the dresser and attempted to lie as flat as possible)
"What are you doing?"
"I'm planking."
"I just heard about planking! My friend was talking about how her daughter is doing it in weird places and she doesn't know what to think of it."
"Sierra, planking was cool like two years ago."
"Whatever."

If you know my husband, you know that planking (of any sort) is very out of character for him. I wish I had picture.