Cluster Feeding and Flustered Pleading


I think I’m regressing. I dreamed last night about building a really awesome GeoTrax layout. I guess creativity can strike anywhere. What the hay, I went ahead and gave it a shot and it actually was pretty cool.  I barely got it finished before I had to get back to my cluster-feeder.

Elijah surprised me by sleeping all night, two nights in a row and then began his rampage for milk. For the last 3 days and two nights I’ve rained milk hourly upon that boy. Somebody please send out the dove! If he’s not nursing he’s crying from exhaustion – no, wait, that’s me.  Meanwhile, the house has collapsed and I think I will too. The “big” boys are bouncing off the walls and employing some desperate attention-getting tactics. All the toys are spilled and all the noises are shrill. Gotta love those growth spurts.

Brian made a funny office joke today and I ran with it.

The Cube-liette (The Cubicle Dungeon): Improving productivity through misery.

Two weekends ago we were trying to decide what we wanted to do. We ended up driving to the theater to see the Disney Oceans movie, but by the time we got there, the boys were asleep so we went to Ikea instead. That night Ian was very disappointed to return home without having seen the movie. This weekend we asked Ian what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to go see the fish movie. We were surprised he remembered it (I don’t know why we would be surprised – he remembers everything). We took them to the movie Sunday afternoon and it was pretty good. I think Discovery had better narration and cinematography in their Earth and Life programs. What most amused me was listening to Ian’s narration. It was an hour and a half of comments like:

That’s a sad song. He’s lonely for his mommy.
Ian got distracted with some popcorn and I pointed to the screen, saying, “Manatee.” “Yes you may,” he replied.
That’s Nemo! That’s lots of Nemos!
That’s loud! Then quiet. Then loud. That’s scary loud.
Mom, I can’t burp real loud.
Two crabbies! That’s a happy crabbie.
I want to leave the movie. I’m done now.

Isaac has better diction than Ian, but then again, Isaac is our little Mockingbird. I was changing Isaac and Ian comes up and says, “Hi Igick.” Isaac replies, “I-zick. Can you say ‘I-zick?'” Isaac enjoys discovering sound effects and thinking of words to say. He will be puttering with a toy and say, “Say ‘pillow’.” Ian repeats, “piwow.” “Say ‘pil-LOW.'” “Piwow.” “Say, ‘business.'” “Igick, I’m building a dangerous house.” He babbles so much, it’s unfortunately easy to tune out, so Isaac has turned to saying something, waiting a split second and following up with “I tode-ju…!” Sometimes he even talks over himself to say it. For instance, a 1-minute period may go like this: Fire truck fire truck fire truck. Good night ladies. Good night ladies. I’m go’n leave you now. Ring roun da rosie. Pop goes Isaac! Dinosaur is eating man. I’m going to jump. May I jum – I TODE-JU MAY I JUMP?!

Ian is our Thinker-Builder. He makes curtains for his trolley cars.

He makes toilet-paper capes for his cars. He uses his blocks to build houses with couches and TVs and lamps and slides for his little block “people”. He is the boy that sits and pats his friend’s back while his friend is being disciplined. Instead of talking about what he will do when he grows up, he says, “When I grow down, I will be a little baby and you will ‘nuggle me and hold me and I will laugh and cry, ‘wahhh’ and nurse you and do all the fings I can do. He went to “check” on “Bebe ‘Lijah” lying in his Kickin’ Coaster (an AWESOME baby seat, by the way) and inspected his toes and said, “This piggy went to market, this piggy stayed with Dad, this piggy laughed, ‘ooh hoo ha ha,’ [skipping a toe] an’ dis piggy runned away.”
I’ve been loving my crazy new birthday shoes.

I actually exchanged these for ones with more foot coverage, but you get the idea. They are called Vibram Five Fingers. I won’t go into all the foot-health benefits they claim, but they are fun and about as close to painless barefooting one can get without years of rigorous callous-building. I run around with the boys in the backyard with them and feel a little giddy. I glide (at least in my mind) across the bumps and dips of the terrain and feel agile and sure-footed, unlike the guesswork of running in regular shoes. We went to Line Creek last weekend and I tromped seamlessly from rocky-rooty trail to slipery-cool streambed. I couldn’t resist sneaking out of the water for a moment to hit a creek-side trail like a swift ninja. Nevermind the 32-year-old mommy-body bounding down the path with more undulation than typically present in a ninja. That was somebody else.

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