"the system of those sequential relations that any event has to any other, as past, present, or future; indefinite and continuous duration regarded as that in which events succeed one another."
the only thing i really understand in that definition is indefinite and continuous. every day i get up and do pretty much the same sequence of events (varies given the day of the week). i anticipate this continuing indefinitely for a continuously indefinite period of time. given this, i feel like i should be better organized and have more time. it couldn't be easier to put a brief post or picture up here at least once a week--what's my problem?!by all definitions of time i should have a spotless house & car, i should have my photos organized with recent ones framed in the house, i should not have to go to the DMV to get new stickers for the new car because i threw the first set away with the envelope the license plates came in because i was moving too fast and didn't see them, my children's nails should be clipped at regular intervals instead of them having to scratch me in an effort to let me know they need to be cut, i should not ever, ever, ever forget or not recognize a birthday, my legs should always be shaved and i should have a blog that is so up to date that all 4 of you that read this are pushing reload at light speed to see what i have to say next.
i am only left to assume there's some quirky time warp that occurs, thus breaking up the "continuous" into smaller sections throughout my day, thus reducing the number of hours i actually have to work with, thus leaving me in a quandary come 9:00 every night.
in brief:
aidan just learned how to climb out of his bed (not sure why it took him so long, but we were happy it did). this means we hear little feet scamper in every morning. since we're both hearing the feet you can only assume this means we're both still in bed and aidan is coming in too early. in a moment of genius i put one of jack's rattley toys on aidan's door so i can at least hear when he opens it--this alleviates the scare factor if we're really soundly asleep.
jack hears aidan get out of bed and wakes up too. enough said.
aidan is speaking in pretty full toddler sentences. he's stuttering a little. apparently very normal, still pretty nerve wracking though. he's been doing a lot of imaginary play. he knows most of his colors, can count to ten and surprised john & i the other night by doing the ABCs in their entirety when he thought we weren't paying attention (he won't do more than the first few letters if asked).
jack is pretty much smiling, laughing, rolling and eating. he does frog legs in place while on his stomach, but uses rolling to get around.
we're heading off to arkansas next week for thanksgiving. bethany thinks we're coming to visit, but really we just want to tick another state off of our "we've visited" list. we couldn't think of another opportunity to visit this particular state, so our cousins gave us a great excuse.
that warp i spoke of earlier? it's on downstairs and i need to go watch 'the mentalist' now. for the record, i will be folding clothes while watching.
i took aidan to a park a couple of weeks ago that has an enormously high play/slide structure. it's caged in all the way up to the top and when you get up there you have the choice of three different slides. they are all enclosed tube-like slides all the way to the bottom. the first one he went down was easy, no problem. the second time he picked the blue one. the blue one was the highest, steepest slide. from my vantage point on the ground it didn't seem like a problem. he seemed hesitant, i encouraged him. i stood at the bottom of the tunnel and called up to him "come on down aidan, i'll be right here waiting for you", "okay mommy, i come down" which was followed (seriously) by "thud, thudthud, thud, thudthudthud"--not another sound. the slide was so long that i had time to actually contemplate what was going to pop out of the bottom before aidan actually arrived there. what greeted me was a look of horror & contempt and then a whole lot of tears. fortunately no broken bones and hopefully no therapy in the future.
epilogue: i thought it was important to show aidan that he really could do the slide, he just needed to approach it slower, lay flatter, etc.--the whole "get back on the horse" thing. so i lumbered my way to the top with him (past the sign that read 'these slides not meant for children in the laps of parents') and we went down the blue slide. it was really, really steep and high. we went down it with the soles of my shoes flat on the slide to keep our speed down. when the sign indicates a play structure is for 5 year olds, make sure your child is at least 3.
so as not to be outdone by jack's head, aidan would like to share that he thinks he has a really big pee pee. as he puts it every time we change his diaper "that's a really big pee pee mommy" (this is said in a deeper voice than his normal one). i wonder which man in his life taught him to say that? the potential list is very, very long.
the doctor ordered an ultrasound for jack's head. she was worried that it's rate of growth was a bit too fast and she wanted to make sure he didn't have any extra fluid in there. good news, he just has a big head. in other jack news he finally figured out how to get that head around and roll over onto his stomach. phew.
john has been playing that "my grandma and your grandma sitting by the fire, my grandma says to your grandma 'I'm gonna set your flag on fire' ... talkin' 'bout hey now, hey now, iko iko an nay, jockomo feena ah na nay, jockomo feena nay" (lyrics sites rock). anyway, aidan has taken to calling jack jack-a-mo, which is what i think john was trying to do in the first place by playing the song over and over and over. i broke every rule i had in child naming when we chose jack. a name that does not easily morph into other forms (jack in the box, jack o lantern, crackerjack, hijack, the list goes on and on and on) was one of my big no no's. whoops. and thank you to john for encouraging our first son to use one of these variations.
setting:
aidan supposed to be napping, but awake.
jack supposed to be napping, but apparently hungry and fussing.
aidan loudly from behind his closed bedroom door, "MOMMY! MOMMY, WHERE ARE YOU? jack-a-mo is crying, jack-a-mo is hungry, jack-a-mo needs a bottle. JACK-A-MO! WHERE IS JACK-A-MO? JACK-A-MO! JACK-A-MO! JACK-A-MO!"
aidan's new trick is this puzzle of united states. he has west of the mississipi and the southeast down perfectly. that whole northeast thing is a bit of a quandary. for those of you that live in arkansas, utah, pennsylvania and missouri i've made sure he knows those states belong to you. as we're approaching three (uh, nine months away) he seems to be able to focus on one task for a longer period of time. this is generally helpful to me and generally very helpful to the teachers at school, gymnastics, etc. it is not helpful when he decides to focus that attention on torturing cats (we had an incident with a rock yesterday), throwing tantrums or painting the wall.
here is an attempt to get both kids to pose for a picture. about two of the twenty i took came out. in most of the pictures aidan is trying to accost jack and jack just has that silly grin on his face. we have some version of leapfrog going on in some, excessive hugging in most and he still likes to squeeze jack's nose. odd.
and here's jack. still the easiest little thing ever created. certainly based on the stories i've heard of my childhood, i don't deserve to have this child. clearly, he should have been jeff's. i'm extremely grateful at my good fortune though. he's sitting up pretty well, not rolling over (the doctor says his head is probably too heavy for him. yes, she really said that), he babbles a ton and has started doing a very high pitched scream. oh, and he's none too pleased when everyone walks out of the room on him.
