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I would love to report a lot of milestones achieved, humorous mutterings from small people, and amazing accomplishments since my last post, but part of the reason it's been so long since my last post is that there isn't much to report. I know, how can I have a toddler and not have a breaking news story every day? Truth is, Oscar and his antics are frankly frightening, and by the end of the day I just pray to forget most of it by the next day, if only to save me from several more gray hairs. Case in point: the other day, I'm making dinner. I can see the living room from the kitchen, it's all one big open space. Behind our couch is a set of bookshelves that act like a console table with picture frames on top, and behind that is our kids' play table and chairs. Oscar is bumbling about, speaking the language only he understands, when all of a sudden I look over and there's his little head poking over the framed pictures on the aforementioned bookshelves behind the couch. The only way he could accomplish this is by A) ingesting some ungodly amount of human growth hormone akin to the Incredible Hulk or B) climbing the chair onto the kid table and STANDING on it. Guess which one he did? He was SO proud, just beaming at me, with no regard for the danger three feet below him. Pointy edges, plate glass windows, hardwood floors. None of it mattered. It was, indeed, his Everest, and yet another reason for my second glass of wine that night.
The other reality keeping me from reporting more often: my kids are constantly ill. It's winter, Annie's in school (a.k.a., that Petri dish with books) 5 mornings a week, and Oscar has no immune system to speak of. Just tonight, I put Annie to bed with what is probably a raging case of conjunctivitis and a middle-ear infection (we'll find out tomorrow), and Oscar, also with a double hit: teething (with what looks like molars the size of Rhode Island) and a bad cold/stomach bug. I spend most of my days in futility, disinfecting what surfaces I can, trying to remember to pay bills, do laundry, plan (and actually make some) meals and all the other unrewarding tasks of homewifery on about 5 hours of sleep because of said illnesses and the nightwaking they impose. And every now and again I remember to brush Annie's teeth.
Last weekend, I went to Georgia for two days and one night for my grandfather's memorial service. Given that the kids and I have not spent a night apart from each other (believe me, not on purpose) since they were born (other than one from Annie on the night Oscar was indeed born), the separation held some challenges for their weary father. Jay did his best, and I'm sure his best was beyond exceptional, but Annie, regardless of his efforts, didn't go to sleep until 3 am and Oscar woke up for the day a little over 2 hours later. Yet more proof that I can never die. No one would ever sleep again.
The above picture is why folding your laundry in front of a one-year-old is not the most productive idea. Here's an update on Oscar. He can now say "Night, night" and "ball." As of today, I've heard a lot of "Ee-ee" when referring to Annie, so I'm going to go ahead and say that's his name for her. Now why I love this child: He loves to clean up. If he witnesses you putting something away, he immediately springs into action with the assist, even if it's not completely accurate (like throwing books in the trash). He grabs plastic grocery bags when he sees me changing the one in our trash can, even if they're from the drawer where I keep the bags for recycling because they have holes. A for effort, Oscar.
He is also convinced that everything is a phone. Today, while attempting to fold the laundry, he kept putting socks up to my face, and saying something similar to the intonations of "hello." It took me a while to figure out, but I got it, mostly because EVERYTHING has been a phone for him, egg cartons, books, matchbox cars, food, and even the occasional, actual phone.
He's a man on the move alright. He's taken to carrying objects with him around the house, like a briefcase. Not that he's ever seen anyone with a briefcase. But it's very important to him, so who am I to judge? We have this "travel" fire station setup that folds and has a handle. It's now Oscar's attache case. Today he took a handled bucket we keep play-doh toys in and tried to wear it as a hat. With the lid still on it. Again, A for effort... but A+ for imagination.
Annie is becoming more of a big girl every day. Her reading is really coming along. Now, if we could only get some focus and attention span to go with it. It's really an amazing thing to watch a kid "get," though. I don't know how the human brain does it. Her interest in numbers has also taken flight. She tells her Papa on the phone to "Come home at 30:15." Guess she's on some weird cosmic military time. Or, she'll say, exasperated that she wishes she were "2034" so she could do something grown-ups do, like eat candy for lunch. She doesn't forget to be a kid though, and she's good at it. She loves to play "Disney World," which is basically house for any other child. Watching all PBS has crippled this child's pop-culture knowledge and knows not of princesses or Tinkerbell. She picks up a little at school, thus the name of her "town." I feel for this kid when she's older and the numerous clueless looks her friends will have to endure from her when discussing the latest Little Mermaid sequel. Some things are worth the hit, Annie. Trust me.
We're all doing fine though, healing from colds and waiting out the unusual cold that is this Louisville winter. People here just walk around looking confused by the weather. It's not supposed to be this cold or snowy here. Luckily we're from New England so we not afraid of coat chosen for warmth instead of good looks or the unattractive results of hat hair.
Personally, I find these types of posts to be a little surreal and foreign, but I would regret deeply not taking a moment to remember my grandfather, Ward B. Pafford, a.k.a. Pappy, who died tonight at the age of 99. The fact that he lived far from Connecticut as I grew up made it difficult to forge a strong relationship with him as a child, but in my adult years I realized how much of a kindred spirit I had in Pappy; don't get me started on our mutual love of Nutter Butters. His sheer joy and interest in the world around him continues to inspire me.
Annie (whose middle name, Ward, is his namesake) met him 3 times during her 4 years and Oscar, once. I know the chances of Annie remembering any of their meetings is a long shot, but I have a photo of the two of them on her bookshelf in hopes that at the very least, she can see what a great smile he had around those he loved. So here are a couple of videos of the kids with him (Annie's just shy of 2, and Oscar is about 6 months old). I love how Annie studies him as they both enjoy their Nutter Butters (sorry for the background noise, the air was on, but that's her saying her name is "Annie Ward" at the end) and Oscar's relaxed happiness in his arms. We'll miss you, Pappy. All love.
I would love to report a lot of milestones achieved, humorous mutterings from small people, and amazing accomplishments since my last post, but part of the reason it's been so long since my last post is that there isn't much to report. I know, how can I have a toddler and not have a breaking news story every day? Truth is, Oscar and his antics are frankly frightening, and by the end of the day I just pray to forget most of it by the next day, if only to save me from several more gray hairs. Case in point: the other day, I'm making dinner. I can see the living room from the kitchen, it's all one big open space. Behind our couch is a set of bookshelves that act like a console table with picture frames on top, and behind that is our kids' play table and chairs. Oscar is bumbling about, speaking the language only he understands, when all of a sudden I look over and there's his little head poking over the framed pictures on the aforementioned bookshelves behind the couch. The only way he could accomplish this is by A) ingesting some ungodly amount of human growth hormone akin to the Incredible Hulk or B) climbing the chair onto the kid table and STANDING on it. Guess which one he did? He was SO proud, just beaming at me, with no regard for the danger three feet below him. Pointy edges, plate glass windows, hardwood floors. None of it mattered. It was, indeed, his Everest, and yet another reason for my second glass of wine that night.
The other reality keeping me from reporting more often: my kids are constantly ill. It's winter, Annie's in school (a.k.a., that Petri dish with books) 5 mornings a week, and Oscar has no immune system to speak of. Just tonight, I put Annie to bed with what is probably a raging case of conjunctivitis and a middle-ear infection (we'll find out tomorrow), and Oscar, also with a double hit: teething (with what looks like molars the size of Rhode Island) and a bad cold/stomach bug. I spend most of my days in futility, disinfecting what surfaces I can, trying to remember to pay bills, do laundry, plan (and actually make some) meals and all the other unrewarding tasks of homewifery on about 5 hours of sleep because of said illnesses and the nightwaking they impose. And every now and again I remember to brush Annie's teeth.
