Where does he get this stuff?

One of the side effects of having FunnyKid in preschool is him hearing and seeing things that I don't know about. At least, that's where I'm assuming he's gotten some of his expressions lately.

Today, he was holding FunnyBoy back from climbing up into our bay window and when I told FunnyKid to let go of his brother, he said, "there's broken glass up there!" There is obviously no broken glass laying around in my house, and I still haven't figured out where he heard it.

One of my favorites-- and another one that came out of nowhere-- is FunnyKid saying, "Me got it" when we tell him to do something. He even once busted out with, "Me on it." And he has learned how to shorten his dad's lectures about why he needs to brush his teeth before bed with, "Me know, Daddy."

As with most kids his age (3), FunnyKid is constantly asking, "why?" I try to answer him the best I can, but it does get old when I have to begin explaining things down to their most basic levels. One of the best calls I ever made as a parent was to teach FunnyKid to only ask "why" three or four times. There is nothing more satisfying than the seemingly endless string of "why's" finally wrapping up with him saying, "That makes sense, Mom."

And finally, FunnyBoy (who is always with me so I really have no idea where he got it) started getting in our faces, opening his mouth wide and roaring like a lion today. It is ridiculously cute and he will sometimes do it on command. It seems someone is following in his brother's footsteps in always keeping me on my toes and thoroughly entertained.

This and that (Preschool Edition)

Having a 3 year old (FunnyKid) and a 9 month old (FunnyBoy) means naptime battles, less sleep than I ever thought I'd be able to survive on and some of the funniest moments. These boys make me laugh every day and while being a full-time parent is the hardest job I'll ever have, I'm so, so lucky to be able to do it.

FunnyKid goes to preschool now, is into playing any sport we buy equipment for and is talking like a champ. The other day, we were trying to find a set of blocks and had found all but one. "Oh, there it is," I said, as I spotted the last block under a dresser. FunnyKid replied, "You have good eyes, Mom." (I say that to him a lot and it was funny to learn that he picked up on one of my expressions. And then scary to think about just how much I need to watch what I say around him...)

While FunnyBoy has his moments of screaming displeasure (usually in the middle of the night), he is generally the happiest kid I've ever met. Strangers in stores comment all the time about his huge jack o'lantern smile (he has two teeth on the bottom and three on the top) and his bright blue eyes. A couple of people have dubbed him with the nickname "Blueberry Eyes" for how blue they are (FunnyKid can never remember the name and calls his brother "Strawberry Eyes.")

FunnyKid is mildly obsessed with ponytails. Before his last haircut, he sometimes asked me to make one on top of his head. When I have one in my hair, he will ask me to turn around so he can see my "poy-tail." Then he says, "I kiss it, Mom?" and gives my ponytail a smooch. Weird, but sweet.

FunnyKid is quite the backseat driver. I get all sorts of orders yelled at me, everything from "Green light, go!" (I've learned not to hit the gas when I hear that since it's not always accurate and never takes the fact that there's traffic in front of us into account) to "Slow down, Mom, that's my house." In fact, the kiddo has gotten kind of possessive lately. We recently got a new car that I drive and the Pretend Husband drives the vehicle I previously had. FunnyKid describes it as "Daddy drive my cah. You drive red cah."

While playing in the driveway a few weeks ago, we heard a tapping noise and discovered a woodpecker high up in a nearby tree. FunnyKid had noticed the noise so I was trying to explain to him what a woodpecker is and what it does. While searching the tree to try to spot what was making the noise, FunnyKid suddenly yelled, "that's a big pecker!" This is me praying he doesn't try to recount the story at school.

Babies are magnets for crazy people

One Sunday, I took FunnyBoy for a drive in a desperate attempt to get him to nap. While he didn't fall asleep, he did calm down and we decided to do some shoe shopping. FunnyBoy loved shopping so much, he started cooing in his stroller as I pushed him around the store (or, at least, I like to think it was because he loved it so much). And his cooing attracted the attention of a seemingly-normal woman walking by.

She started off asking if she could look at FunnyBoy and was very nice about not touching him. Then she asked me his name (still very normal). Then she asked if he was my first and when I told her he is my second, she asked if I had a boy or girl at home. When I said "boy," that's when things started to get weird.

"Two boys. You keep working on that girl!" (I didn't respond and, although the comment kind of rubbed me the wrong way by how it implied that my beautiful boys weren't enough, my weirdo radar just barely went off).

Then, this. "Let me know when you need me to babysit!"

Ohhhhhhhh, yeahhhhhhh. Sure, stranger. I will be calling you annnnnnyyyyy day now. And then FunnyBoy and I made a hasty exit from the store before Ms. Too Close For Comfort decided we needed her to come home with us.

Life with two

I read somewhere that the transition from one to two kids is harder than the transition from none to one. Almost eight weeks into our adventure as the parents of two boys, I'm going to agree. While there was a steep learning curve as we figured out what to do with a tiny FunnyKid when he was an infant, the challenges are even greater when we're not only trying to keep FunnyKid happy and healthy, but sustaining a (more helpless) baby as well.

Oh, how life has changed for us. For one thing, I'm spending a lot less money. I haven't taken both boys out very frequently because of flu season and my inability to keep them both entertained and on track in stores. One of my first trips out with both of them was to good ol' Target. I had my list and I had my game plan (FunnyBoy in a wrap on my chest, FunnyKid in the cart). It all went according to plan until I got about ten steps into the store and spied a cute dress under a 70 percent off clearance sign. I hesitated for a second before realizing who I was with and quickly walking past. Browsing, my friends, is a thing of the past.

Another challenge has been FunnyBoy's digestive issues. After too many weeks of hearing him scream for an hour or two every night, we have him on medication. In addition, his doctor told me to drop all soy and dairy from my diet. After extensive research, I can tell you that soy and/or dairy is in EVERYTHING. I spent an hour at the grocery story yesterday reading labels, bought six things (soy free, dairy free butter? sounds delicious!) and spent $20. This couponing, grocery budgeting mama is dying as she writes that sentence. On the bright side, I learned I like almond milk and will probably end up shedding some more pregnancy weight as I'm forced to cut back on most things I ordinarily snack on. On the other hand, I will understand why my friends don't want to spend time with me for awhile because how fun will I be when I can't eat anything other than a handful of peanuts and some fruit?

It probably goes without saying that, as hard as it has been to give up so many foods, it's so worth it to make sure FunnyBoy isn't in pain every night. Overall, he's a sweet kiddo with the biggest smile ever-- well worth not having chocolate, ice cream or a lot of other things for awhile. And I'm getting better at being the mom of two kids. I took them out for a walk in the double stroller the other day and we have already conquered the library. Next up is a restaurant. Wish me luck...

How I Spent My Christmas Vacation...

As December quickly flashed by and we got closer and closer to Christmas Day (my due date), I began praying that the baby would not decide to make an appearance on Christmas. I didn't want to spend Christmas in the hospital and I also didn't want the poor kid to have a Christmas birthday. A few days before or after-- great. But as someone with a birthday three weeks before Christmas who *still* sometimes got shafted on gifts, I had some compassion for having a birthday right on the holiday itself.

As Christmas approached and nothing seemed to be happening, I relaxed a little bit and started to plan for having a late baby. The Pretend Husband and I started discussing whether we would want an induction or membran stripping, and I began hoping to go into labor on my own sometime in the week between Christmas and New Year's.

Christmas Day came and it was perfect. We had decided to keep the holiday simple, not knowing if it would even happen. We set out a bunch of food, told family when we would be home and sat back to wait for them to visit. FunnyKid alternated between riding his new backhoe, jumping on his new trampoline and snuggling up with grandparents. I alternated between talking and eating, mostly while cuddled up on the couch.

Everyone left in the evening and within two hours, I started having some cramping and then contractions, which were not at all regular (and had started and stopped before, so I didn't get too excited about them). That evening, I had the PH take a photo of me at 40 weeks pregnant, not knowing how little time I had left.

We put FunnyKid to bed and the PH and I watched some television while I timed the contractions, which were anywhere from 12 to 20 minutes apart. As we got into bed around 10:30, my water broke. And that's when things got real. The PH (who had a really bad cold) tried to grab a little sleep while I went downstairs to pace and time contractions, which got stronger and closer together but since I was still able to walk and talk through them, I figured I was still pretty early in the process.

As the contractions got down to 3-5 minutes apart, I jumped in the shower and the PH started preparing for a trip to the hospital while family members started to make their way over to our house to stay with FunnyKid. After getting dressed, I was fine with chatting with my dad in between contractions, but the PH started to get nervous ("I am not delivering this baby myself!") and started to rush me out the door.

We got to the hospital and, although I was having really, really painful back labor, everything was still manageable. In fact, the nurse told us later that she almost didn't admit us because I didn't seem like I was very far along. In fact, I was already 7 centimeters dilated when they checked me and that's when things started moving fast.

There was some really loud moaning (me) and some slightly scared looks (the PH) and some casualness from the midwife as the told the nurse to call my doctor, but tell her there was no need to rush to the hospital. As she was saying that, I could feel the baby moving down and started having the urge to push, but who was I to argue with the expert?

Which is how it came to be that I gave birth 15 minutes later without a doctor in the room. The baby basically flew out and was placed on my chest and I said, "it's a boy?" Then I said, "Brothers!" A little FunnyBoy to torture and tease and love and admire my FunnyKid, who I'm sure will do the same in return.

And so, three hours after Christmas Day had ended, that's how our FunnyBoy, Finnegan (we'll call him Finn), came into this world, in his own time in his own way and with a full set of lungs that reminds us he's here on a daily (and nightly) basis.