At Least Mr. Lion Isn't Real.

So, when it comes to figuring out the best way to handle discipline with le Cub, I've found myself consulting dear friends of mine whenever my gut doesn't give me a specific direction. Usually my gut or common sense can guide me, but every once in a while I heed the advice of the greats that have gone on before me.

Like, say, the moms at play group. :)

Cub's most recent feats include lifting the lid on the trash can (whilst I avoid screaming, "SWINE FLU POLIO RUNNY CRUMMY GEEEERRRRRMMMSSSSSSS ROTTED BLAAAAHHH!!!!" and instead say, "Yucky.") and tossing his food on the floor (a feat our Boston Terrier greatly appreciates). Thanks to countless rounds of "Don't touch!" involving items such as our dog's dishes, TV remotes, and covered outlets, Cub responds pretty well when I (holding down my gag reflex) politely ask him to please remove his fingers from the trash can. Tossing his food has proven to be a bit more of a challenge, as I originally thought he did this in an attempt to communicate to me that he was "all done". So, being the sharp Mama I think I am, I showed him the sign for "all done", which he immediately interpreted as "SO BIG!" and consequently showed me by flinging his arms in the air throughout the remainder of the meal. Here, have a spoonful of SO BIG! peas and then let's SO BIG! take a sip of milk and your macaroni and SO BIG! cheese is almost done. And yes, you are SO BIG! so big. Good job, honey. 

We'll go ahead and deduct a point from Mama for that one.

So, we've started over. Now, when he holds food in his hand over the edge of the table as if to say, "Here it comes ...", I immediately grab it and say, "NO." Then I mimick like I am putting the food in my mouth and I say, "Put it in your mouth! Like this!" If he finds me boring and decides to fling his food anyway, I tap his hand (enough to get his attention and maybe sting for a second, but no it's not a SLAP! BANG! DEATH!) and once again I show him what to do. Usually he gets it by this point. But, if he once again drops food (while looking me straight in the eye, knowing it's wrong), I sternly tell him, "Caleb Scott, NO!" and then cheerily say, "All done!" and I pick him up and set him on the living room floor. If he's still hungry, he'll fuss.  And I explain to him why he's on the floor and not at the table. Then after ten minutes we resume. And he gets it by then. He doesn't drop food the second time at the table (not so far, anyway--we've only had to do it once).

I never thought I would be explaining things in full sentences to a one year old, but I'm amazed at how much he picks up. Seriously. It's nuts. Babies are way smarter than I had originally thought (I'm glad I learned this before number two makes his/her arrival).

Today we faced a new challenge. As we sat in his nursery reading books, Cub suddenly stood up, toddled over to his crib, and reached through the bars for his Mr. Lion. He had been perfectly fine up until that point, but as soon as he saw Mr. Lion, he started crying and whining and reaching for him. What? Really? I knelt down next to him and told him Mr. Lion was sleeping ("Night night") and took his hand. He started crying harder, but I calmly led him out of the nursery and shut the door and distracted him with some other toys. In a few moments, he was fine. I know I've said this before, but Mr. Lion is totally Cub's comfort toy. As soon as he gets a hold of him, he starts sucking his thumb. I already pull Cub's thumb out of his mouth when he starts sucking it while he's awake (sleepy time is different ... I know I'll fight that battle when he's older!) so I definitely don't want him sucking his thumb while he drags Mr. Lion around all day. Now, I know all moms are different when it comes to comfort toys. Some think it's fine if you let them take them around with them, and some are stricter about it, like I am. Mr. Lion is for sleepy time and trips (and special circumstances, I'm sure).  That's it. Especially if Cub throws a fit to have him. I wouldn't reward a fit for any other reason, so why reward this one? I don't know. I mean, geez, I cry every time I get a hold of The Notebook, but that doesn't mean I drag it around with me all day.

I worried that today would be the beginning of many battles with vying for Mr. Lion, but maybe not. Part of me hopes that a lot of consistency will keep the battle at bay, while the other part of me knows that battles with babies can be, simply, unpredictable. 

And, if it at the end of it all, sheer willpower fails me and pregnancy hormones win, you will find us sitting on the couch, Cub holding tightly to Mr. Lion while sucking his thumb, and me wiping tears as The Notebook plays on TV. :)

So, this will be my open-ended question to all the moms out there (or moms-to-be, or anyone who wants to share an opinion). Comfort toys: Should the kiddos be allowed to take them anywhere? Or should they be limited to bedtime only? I doubt I'll change my mind with this one, but I'm curious to hear what other moms have to say!

They All Are Important, But This One Is Significant.

Today is my Dad's birthday.

Some of you know from my old blog that this past summer my Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 bone cancer (not bone marrow, just bone). He had a tumor that had developed in his scapula and he underwent two months of rigorous chemotherapy and radiation. In fact, the type of chemotherapy he was on is referred to as the "red devil" as it is one of the harshest types of chemotherapy out there. It was a long summer and this whole journey has felt like there were a lot of unknowns. But, through it, I had to accept that sometimes there are things that exist within God's sovereignty that we just don't understand. And we won't ever understand. And, really, there's protection in that, somehow.

On Monday, Dad had a CT scan and on Tuesday, he went back to the doctor for the results.

And they were CLEAN! COMPLETELY CLEAN!! I jumped and screamed and cried. The tumor is gone. The cancer is gone. As of right now, Dad is cancer-free. I can't even explain to you the weight of those words.

!!!!!!

SO. Knowing that today was his birthday, my husband and I concocted a plan to go visit him last night and surprise him, as this birthday was obviously a very special one. I decided we would pick up food from Red Robin and drive it to my parents' house. My Dad loves Red Robin and every time he and Mom visit us here, we always eat there. 

So, I drove over to Red Robin yesterday and explained the situation to the manager there, Mitch. I told him how much we had appreciated the good service they had given us and I told him Dad's story, and why this birthday was so significant. He said he was thrilled for us and would take care of whatever we needed. "Well," I said, "I need to know how to transport four burgers for over an hour without them turning into a soggy mess!" He laughed and said they would take care of it. So, I placed my order and returned back later that afternoon to pick it up. 

They had two huge bags waiting for me. After I paid, they helped me carry them out to my car. I'm telling you, smelling the deliciousness that is Red Robin while we drove to my parents' house was quite tempting. I would be lying if I didn't admit that, more than once, I crawled to the very back of our car to snag a fry for my husband and Cub and I! We arrived at my parents' house and Dad was definitely surprised. Mom had the oven heated so we could warm up the burgers and as we unloaded each one, I realized that they had disassembled everything. The buns, the burgers, the veggies, the cheese, and the sauce were all in their own containers, grouped together by each burger, so we knew which sauce and such went with what burger. All we had to do was put the buns and the (already cooked) burgers in the oven for a few minutes to heat them back up! Needless to say, everything was delicious. They even threw in a new huge bottle of ketchup, too. :) 

(Dad and I enjoying our respective sandwiches--mine was the Whiskey River BBQ Burger and his was the Crispy Chicken on Ciabatta bread.)

I understand that it is a restaurant's obligation to do as you ask, but I've worked in food service before and I know how frustrating it can be to have high maintenance customers. But, they really went above and beyond and I know it took a lot of extra work to get our order right. We appreciated it very much. 

It was so great to talk with Dad and hear more about his doctor's appointment. The doctors think that within a year, he will have most, if not all, of the function in his arm back (the tumor did some hardcore damage that will require some bone-strengthening treatment). It was so refreshing to hear good news and then more good news, after a summer of seemingly endless bad news. Dad was happy and relieved and I can't explain how healing it was to see him back to his old self. There just aren't words.

After everyone was finished, I picked up the dishes and as I went to throw some of the Red Robin bags away, I noticed a card tucked in one of the bags. I pulled it out and it had "Happy Birthday!" written on the envelope. I handed it to Dad and he opened it. It was a card from the manager at Red Robin, signed by the people that helped assemble our order! There were notes of encouragement and congratulations. Good job, Red Robin! That was a very pleasant surprise.

All in all, it was a great evening. After dinner, we sat and chatted while Cub played with his Memere and Pepere. 

(Check out Cub's relaxed double-chin! Little chunky monkey!!)

After a while we loaded up and headed home. It was a short trip, but definitely worth the drive. 

Happy Birthday, Dad.

And It's Not Because I Didn't Like "Wanted".

I once read a quote from Angelina Jolie that said something to the effect that, unlike most women, she loved being pregnant. I think she was pregnant with her twins. I'm not an Angie J. hater, but I remember that comment didn't really resonate very well with me. Unlike most women? It made her sound a tad superhuman. I don't mind at all that she loves pregnancy--just don't assume that every other woman out there doesn't.

I thought again about her statement last night as I hugged the toilet. Hmm. Loving pregnancy. There are a lot of things I love. My husband, my son, my extended family, friends, my dog ... chocolate ... a full tank of gas ... yep. I love all of them. Of course, I love all of them with a different kind of love, right? I love my husband differently than I love my son. My love for a full tank of gas isn't anywhere near the depths of love I have for my extended family, and the complexity with which I love my friends doesn't exactly exist in the love I have for my dog. I've heard women who have very easy pregnancies say that they love being pregnant because Shoot! It's easy! And then there are women who have really awful crappy pregnancies and they still love being pregnant because, well, they're pregnant. And it isn't the difficulty or the ease with which we experience something that necessarily causes it to warrant our love.

I think I fall somewhere more towards the latter group of women rather than the former. The term "easy" in regards to pregnancy is relative, but I think it's fair to say my pregnancy with Cub wasn't as easy as some, but it was a breeze compared to others. This pregnancy, so far, has been easier than my pregnancy with Cub, but we still have a long road ahead.

But, as I was hugging the porcelain throne, I realized that my love for pregnancy now is because I know what exists on the other end of it all: The baby that will be placed on my tummy and then in my arms. So, yes, I love being pregnant. And not because it's easy or because my hair gets thick and shiny or because I glow (sweat?). I love it because the idea that I am, at this moment, housing a miracle in progress, is the most overwhelming, humbling, and beautiful gift I've ever been given. AND, that miracle continues after birth and then continues to grow outside of your body. This is why children are, truly, a gift of the Lord, really. For those of us who are not able to have our own, we are still able to take in children and watch the miracle of life continue to grow, even if that miracle began in someone else. We can still partake in the miracle of life, which is amazing.

So, Angie J., I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I disagree. I think if you ask most women, they would acknowledge that they do love pregnancy.

Now, being with Brad Pitt, well ... I think you've got us beat on that one. :)

At Least I Didn't Try To Put The Key In the Ignition.

This evening, I stopped by QuikTrip to grab some hot cocoa on my way to our women's ministry team meeting. When I walked back to my car, I reached to open the door and noticed a man had stopped and was giving me a strange look. I looked down to avoid his glance, opened the door, sat down, and shut the door.

And then realized I had gotten in on the passenger side.

Hence, the strange look.

Awesome.

SO. How, exactly, does one coolly brush off this itty-bitty faux pas? I put my purse on, opened the door, and flung my purse onto the passenger seat, then shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. As if to say, "Ah yes! I always put my purse on the passenger seat before I get in!"

Smooth, Katie. Reeeeeeeeaaaaal smooth. 

No Rest Weekend.

My Weekend in pictures! Kind of!

Friday Night we went to a concert. Imagine us at a concert.

Saturday!

My husband ran a 5k (eeeaaaaarrrrlllyyyy in the morning) and beat almost everyone from his work! Way to go, babe! I was the proud support wife with a mug of Ghirardelli hot chocolate. I know how to do mornings.

Halloween with a little monkey who's pants were too big! Poor little monkey.

Little walking monkey.

The whole family.

TIME CHANGE!

Sunday!

Church. No pictures. Imagine me playing keyboard in skinny jeans that I had to button below my bulging tummy. Yes, I wear jeans to church.

The yellow heels dressed them up, I think.

After church! Photo shoot!

Love this family! You can see more here.

And now, I'm exhausted! How am I supposed to recover from a crazy weekend?? Hmmm ... hot chocolate and bed, I think!!