Christmas in Charleston

Christmas 2003: Spend days lounging around, snuggled up by the fire engrossed in my book (2nd one of the trip...the first one would have been finished on the airplane ride to Iowa)
Christmas 2013: Wonder why I even brought one book on this trip.  Even on the car ride down, I barely had the chance to open it before my services were needed: I became a national anthem singer, pacifier replacer, book reader, and all around slave to my children.

Christmas 2003: 9:30 pm - time to head out on the town with old friends
Christmas 2013: 9:30 pm - wonder how people actually go out this late, struggle to stay up for another child-free hour

Christmas 2003: Sleep in until 9 or 10
Christmas 2013: Sleep until 6:30 if we're lucky.  Curse my children that they have no concept of vacation.

I think you get the point.  Christmases have changed!  And while "relaxing" might not be the first word that comes to mind, it was a blast!

It started in Chapel Hill as the "Portland Howes" came to visit before we headed on down to Charleston for a destination Christmas.  Brady and his oldest cousin Emma had a blast together as they jumped in the bounce house, rode the roller coaster, went to the Carolina basketball game, and stayed up way too late chatting in Brady's bunk beds.  I love that Brady is old enough to "chat."  The first night, Brady didn't go to bed until after 10 (normal bedtime of 8) and while I missed the majority of their conversations, I eavesdropped on some and had to muffle my laughter.  Here are conversations between cousins:

Brady: The clock's green.
Emma: You're thirsty?
Brady: Yeah
Emma: Just ask your mom for some water, that's what I do.
Brady: Mommy!!! I want water!!

and later....

Brady: TAR!
silence....
Brady: TAR!
Emma: Talk? You want to talk?

Clearly Emma had not yet been indoctrinated into the Carolina Way. Emma could not only respond to such exclamations later in the week, but she was leading them!  She'll return home cheering for the Beavers or the Blazers, but she loved being a Tar Heel, at least for a week!

On to Charleston.  This was Emma and Brady on the beach within the first hour that we arrived.

Note that Brady is sprinting away from the ocean.  He continues to be terrified by it.  His father, on the other hand, was sprinting towards it.

 

My other brother and his family, as well as my parents, arrived shortly after.  Having 6 kids in the same house, all 3 and under, was a little nutty, but all the cousins got along so well!

 

The low point of the trip was Jackson's illness.  He got a fever Christmas Eve so wasn't feeling the Christmas cheer.  The only good thing about a sick baby is that they're super cuddly!

 

 
 

When took him in on the 26th, (thanks to our friends the Webbs, who made a call to their old Charleston pediatrician) he was running a 104.2 temp.  No ear infection, runny nose, cold, etc, and he seemed to improve with some medicine.  Except (and this is a big except), he now wakes up with blood-curdling screams at night, generally every hour or three.  Last night he woke at 10, 11, 12:15(didn't go back down until 1), then up at 4, 5, and 6.  We went to the doctor today and I never thought I'd see the day when I would be so disappointed when a doctor told me my son seemed perfectly healthy.  "I wouldn't worry about him!" the doctor (not our regular one) chirped to me.  He need only look at the bags under my eyes to know that Jackson is only half the equation.  He also told me, "Yeah, I'm so glad I'm past that stage." Helpful doc, real helpful.

After some internet research, I'm convinced they're night terrors. And basically, there's not much to be done.

Daddy catching up on some Z's

 

And speaking of, I'm off to bed myself, preparing for battle!  I'll leave you with a Christmas picture of all the cousins dressed up and dapper before church!

Veggie tales

This is a story about a boy and a tomato. 

Like many his age, this boy did not like his vegetables.  His mom would place them on his plate and they would be the awkward dinner guests, looking around only to find out they were the last ones at the party.  The mom didn’t push the issue, rarely resorted to bribes, and hoped the boy would come to feel veggie love on his own.  Of course, since she herself did not love vegetables and the boy’s father even less, this was a stretch.

One night, she placed a cherry tomato on his plate, along side pasta, chicken, and other food which he hungrily consumed.  The tomato sat untouched.  His mom asked the boy if he'd like a treat at the end of the meal, and predictably, he nodded.  “All you have to do is eat that tomato, and you’ll get a treat,” the mom chirped.  She hoped to avoid the threating nature of having to force her children to eat food that she herself faced as a youth (although she is, of course, better for it today) and wanted to provide him with a choice. “If you don’t want a treat, you don’t need to eat the tomato.”

The young boy slowly placed the tomato into his mouth and the mom did a silent victory dance. 

But it soon became evident that the battle to get the tomato to its final resting place had just begun.  The boy sat unmoving, the tomato in his mouth, equally as still. “Chew the tomato, please,” the mom asked politely.  The creature sat stone-faced.  She repeated her request.

No problem, the mom thought. I’ll just clean up the kitchen, and ignore the boy while he decides to chew the tomato.  As she walked around the kitchen, she stole sideway glances, but his jaw was set and his expression remained unchanged.  The boy was not defiant, if he had been the tomato would have been spat out. He was not mischievous, the mom knew that look well.  He was simply sitting...with a tomato in his mouth.

She politely asked a few more times.  He didn’t refuse, per say, he just didn’t respond.  He just sat.  He was strangely quiet.  He looked at her with kind eyes, perhaps wondering why her face was beginning to flush.  With nothing else to clean and a baby that was beginning to get fussy, she began to get impatient.  Her tone changed.  If he spit the tomato out, the game would be over…no vegetable, no treat, no biggie.  But it was still in his mouth.  Maybe he wanted to eat it, but was nervous about what was inside, she thought.  Maybe she just needed to let this play out.  He certainly couldn’t keep the tomato in his mouth forever, right?

Ok, mom thought, I will be as cool as the cucumber he refuses to eat.  I’ll just pretend like it doesn’t bother me.  Let’s use positive reinforcement.  “You’re eating it! You’ve almost finished!  Your treat is going to be so yummy when you finish that tomato!” She was met with a stone face.  She got close to him and he reached out playfully to unzip a pocket on her jacket.  She pulled back quickly.

Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy.  “Chew the tomato!  Do you hear me??!” She began to feel like a crazy person.  The stonefaced little boy sensed her frustration and extended his thumb and gave her the thumbs-up sign.  It's always worked on women before, he must have thought.  She found this to be 60% infuriating and 40% hilarious.  She resisted the urge to bite his thumb and show him what she meant by chewing.

The mom looked at the clock: 6:50.  The little boy had been sitting with the tomato in his mouth for at least 20 minutes.  His brother needed to go to bed.  She needed a drink.  It’s just a tomato, she reminded herself. I could just make him spit it out.  But we’ve come this far, her other voice countered.

She walked over to the microwave and shut it.  Ok, she might have slammed it. “That hurt my ears,” the boy said innocently, the tomato tucked carefully in the pouch of his mouth.

"She marched over to him.  "Open your mouth," she demanded.  He complied.  She reached her fingers in, crushed the tomato against the boy's back teeth, finally letting loose the seeds and juice and things that make the tomato a tomato.  She felt exhilaration.  She knew the seeds and juice wouldn't be able to stay in the boy's mouth for long. 

She was halfway there,  but the tomato's outer shell was still comfortably settled in the boy's mouth.  She placed the small treat in front of the boy, hoping it would inspire a few chews and a swallow.  He reached his hand out, but retreated when he figured out that the tomato must go down before the treat can go in.

So he sits.  His mom takes deep breaths.

"I'll just eat the treat myself!" she exclaimed, and she reached for the treat.

His stoneface crumbles, his eyes bulge.  "No!" he says and his jaws begin to move.  One time, two times, three chews.  A swallow.  Vegetable ingested, a treat to follow, and an exhausted mom who wonders how they got to this place.

The boy is asked the next day if he likes tomatoes.

"Yes!" he answers cheerily.

Of course you do, Brady, of course you do.

Letters to Jackson: 7 months

Jackson,

Merry Christmas!  You don't know what you're in for, but its going to be lots of fun.  You're about to take a trip with your brother, parents, four cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.  It'll be chaos...and I'm sure you'll love it.  Speaking of chaos, I think you're going to enjoy making it! You're a feisty little guy, which is fun, unless we're trying to eat and hold you at the same time.  I think you'll be shoving french fries down your throat as soon as you're able, which appears to be soon.  Your ability to grab a bowl or plate off the table is quite impressive.  Your deftness caused an outfit change for both of us the other morning when you snatched my bowl of cereal off the table.

You are a kid who wants to go places.  You've been army crawling for quite some time, and in the last week, I caught a few true crawl "steps".  Your favorite move, though, is the downward facing dog.  For those non-yogis, you get into this position by getting on your hands and feet and putting your butt in the air.  As you can tell by the pictures, it’s your go-to move.  For now, you're not sure what to do from there.  Sometimes you cross one leg behind the other (an advanced yoga move) and one time I saw you lift up one leg (even more advanced).  I have a feeling you'll be standing and walking before we know it!

You still could use some improvement on your nighttime sleeping, but your naps are generally pretty good.  You’re extending your afternoon one, which is key, because that’s when your brother is sleeping, and sometimes it even creeps close to the 2-hour mark.  You can put yourself to sleep in the crib (with the aid of a pacifier) and it’s a far cry from the days of rocking you, putting you down, having you scream, and repeat.  I can't tell you how wonderful that is. 

 

I witnessed another big milestone today.  You can now put the pacifier back in your mouth yourself!  I can’t tell you how many hundreds (thousands?) of times I’ve popped that thing in.  Your new skill was born out of necessity, as you have a brother who likes to tease you and pull your paci out.  You guys had a cute game going this afternoon where Brady would yank it out and you’d pop it back in and most importantly, laugh about it.

 

You continue to be a blessing in our life and we are so excited to see what’s in store for your in 2014!

I love you!

Mom

Christmas in the Hoots' house

Here's what the Hoots household is up to during the Christmas season:

What we're singing: Jingle Bells? Frosty the Snowman?  A little bit, but mostly "Star Spanners." That's Brady-speak for the Star-Spangled Banner, which he asks for incessantly.  It's really a song you have to commit to.  And I have...about 45 times in the past week.  At the end, Brady yells "Fireworks!  Boom! Boom!"  Too bad football season is over...I guess we'll have to get to the basketball games early enough to catch the national anthem.  He may be disappointed by the lack of fireworks (and impressed by the quality compared to his mother).

What we wish for in our stocking: Waffles, according to Brady.  I explained to him that Santa would come and fill his stocking up. I asked him what he'd like and he seemed pretty confident in his response.

Cutest Christmas activity: Brady rocking the baby Jesus from our manger scene (who's about 1 inch long).

What we're eating: Jackson has entered the world of solid foods.  I can't tell you yet his favorite food, but I can tell you that he's very interested in shoving the spoon as far into his mouth as he can get it.

What we're watching: Team Umizoomi.  I'm not sure how Brady got started on it, but its really the only show he watches.  I think I made the mistake of allowing Brady to watch TV during the time that Jackson is sleeping.  As a clever way to disguise his request to watch an episode, Brady will ask, "Jackson go night night?"  He tried it with Baby Jesus, too, letting me know that Jesus was sleeping.  I'm on to you Brady...

What we're reading: "It's Not Easy Being Big."  Big Bird has it rough sometimes.  But it's also not easy being small, according to Elmo.  And I get to read all about it, every day.

How we're sleeping:  2 out of 5 stars.  Better than one star.  I'm going to write a book called "It's Not Easy Being Tired."  The idea is that it'll be so boring that you fall asleep after the first page.

How we're feeling: After a HUGE win tonight against Kentucky, very jolly!!

Reality check

Let's take a break from our regularly scheduled adorable photo-ops and inconsequential discussions about sleep patterns to talk about something that matters. 

Like many people do this time of year, our family teamed up with a few other families to sponsor an underprivileged family for Christmas.  There were drop off locations that we could go to deliver the gifts, but I really wanted to meet the family and make a personal drop.  Since the other families are overseas (Eric's friends who are playing basketball), it fell to us.  I had visions of stopping by, seeing the smiling faces of children as the festive gifts were brought in, and hopefully leaving with a warm fuzzy feeling of Christmas.

It didn't happen that way.

The family we sponsored is a single mom with four children.  I called the mom last week to coordinate a drop-off.  Eric had early morning practice today so he was able to come home early.  This was a rough part of town, so I knew this was something we'd like to do during daylight hours.

When I called, the mom asked for a contact number in case anything changed and they wouldn't be home.  "I'm at the hospital, so can you just text me?" she asked.   Not wanting to be nosy, I just said sure.

We pulled up to her house around 4:30, and she had texted me a few minutes before that she was leaving the hospital, so we waited, Brady watching the neighbor boys playing basketball in the street, a hoop right in front of their house.  I thought, hoped, that one of those carefree boys was one of our sponsored children.

It wasn't.  Maybe on a normal day, it would have been, but today, two of our four sponsored children were in the hospital, suffering from multiple gunshot wounds.  The mom was kind when she greeted us, and I (stupidly) explained that we were delivering three bikes in the off-chance there was a way to hide them from the kids.  It became clear that there was no hiding the bikes because 1) who cares and 2) the kids weren't home.  Last Tuesday, her 16-year-old son was shot three times, while her 14-year-old was shot 25 times.  She explained this with a very straight face.  "I'd really like to get out of Durham," she told me, the way I'd tell you that I'd really like to Jackson to sleep through the night.

A few days prior, her boys were witness to a murder in their neighborhood.  She thinks they may have been targeted.  It looks like an arrest was made today.  This stuff doesn't happen in our world...except when it does.  While I'm worrying about my kid sleeping through the night, this mom is worried about her son living through the night.  I'm thinking about surprising her kids with the bikes, and she's worried that the neighbor kids will break into her house after seeing the bikes come in.

This tired mom will hold her baby a little closer tonight when he cries.

Sleep training, day 78

Or at least it feels like that.

I'm tired.  Part of the reason is because I stayed up late last night watching the UNC basketball team knock of the #1 team in the country.  And that was WORTH the loss of sleep.  Here's a great video of the post-game celebration.  The band, along with a hundred students, were camped out at the Smith Center to welcome the team home at 3 am.  Know who was also up?  Jackson, of course.  He was also up to watch the end of the game too.  And at 5 am, just to make sure he didn't miss any early morning celebration.

I wish I could say this was an anomaly, but the past 3 nights have been rough.  I've wavered  between picking him up every time he cries and doing anything to get us both back to sleep and letting him cry in hopes of aiding his long term sleep habits.  And everything in between.

Tuesday night I let him fuss/cry from 1030-11 and he eventually fell asleep. He woke up at 1 and I fed him.  Then back up at 3:15.  Clearly, he doesn't need to eat, so I let him fuss/cry (this involves me going into his room several times to try to calm him).  At 4 am, I've had it. So I give in, nurse him, and think about the last 45 minutes of sleep I just wasted.

He's had a bit of a cold, so I'm hoping, hoping, that has much to do with this regression.  I'm tired, but its more mental than physical.  I know its a stage, I know he'll sleep...eventually, but he'll also wipe his own butt at some point and that doesn't make the next dirty diaper any less real.

But isn't he cute?