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This has been a big year for Adelaide. While some days I do miss my little baby girl, I must admit, I’m loving this age. She’s grown and changed so much, and is turning into a delightfully imaginative little girl! (You know, I used to worry about her speech–since she just didn’t talk much when her peers were. But like everything else she does, she just decides when she wants to do it, and that’s all there is to it. She surprises me every day with her power of communication these days. Also reminds me that I need to be careful about what I say around her!)

Back in April, Addie had her first trip to Disneyland! Jesse grew up a Disney fan (having grown up in Southern California), and I had been a few times as a kid and after Jesse and I got married, but having little kids has made us really wake up to the sheer magic of all things Disney. The trip was so fun, and we spent three days in the park (something I’ve never done before, and neither had Jesse), enjoying every minute. I wish I had recorded Addie’s face when she saw the castle for the first time, because it was priceless!

Now that it is nine months later since the trip, Addie will still tell me about Disneyland and her experience there. (She wasn’t talking that much then, so I wasn’t totally sure how much she was soaking in, but based on what she tells me now–she pretty much soaked it all in!) She tells me about the riding in the cups, the map she carried around, her balloon, Mickey’s house (will even describe the dishes in his sink), and the Woody ride. Can’t wait to take her again!

On Addie’s birthday in May, she turned the ripe old age of 3! For her birthday, I enlisted Uncle Shawn’s help in taking her to the bouncy houses at the Classic “Fun” Center. I figured no one would be able to keep up with her (and tire her out) like Uncle Shawn.

Then we had a fun family party for her, complete with an amazing birthday cake from her Aunt Kali, and a quite hilarious (and impromptu) game of balloon throwing. We must all think we’re kids at heart, still.

This year has also been the Year of the Princess at our house. We’ve been collecting princess toys, princess movies, and best of all: princess dresses. (Maybe I wished I had some as a kid, who knows…but I can’t seem to help myself from buying them for her.) She’s got a closet full, and it’s launched her into a beautiful world of make-believe and imagination.

(I realize Tinker Bell isn’t a princess, but she loves this outfit, and here she was “digging for Peter Pan’s treasure” so
she could hide it from Captain Hook!)

Also this year, Addie has really started to enjoy playing with friends. She has some favorites in our neighborhood, but also loves her two “cousins” (technically my cousins’ girls), and she gets to play with them regularly. And what’s better than combining playing with friends with your favorite princess culture? (Seriously – does it GET better?)

Cutest little group of princesses EVER.

Heading into our summertime adventures this year, Addie got to take swimming lessons. She really loved them, and her teacher called her a little fish (he said usually he has to talk the girls her age into ducking their head under water…but Addie wouldn’t stop ducking her head). She got to jump off the diving board (sort of) and then spent the rest of her summer wanting to swim!

Okay, I’ve got lots more to go, but we’ll call this one good. Next up, summertime adventures! (And yes, there will be an Addie Pt. 2.)

I’m gonna be brutally honest here, folks. We don’t have Potty Power at our house. (The picture below has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m talking about here, but I love it. It’s just perfect in so many ways, and shows what a delightful girl Addie really is.)

Anyhow, I’m preparing an Addie post right now (no really, I am!) that will cover the last six months of Addie’s busy, busy life, but we won’t be talking about potty-training. Because…yes, I have a 3 1/2 year old whom I cannot claim to be potty-trained. Yeah, never thought that would happen. We’ve been trying for the last year, and have tried everything: going pantsless, timers, sticker charts, treats, toys, cute underwear, videos, books, rewards, bribes, threats, guilt, punishments, etc. Every one would work for a couple of days, but no more than that. 

She was actually doing really well once school started in September, and after a couple of incidents of trying to get to the potty in time and peeing on her pants and on the floor (and having to be brought home by her teachers to change), I think she was too embarrassed to try at school anymore. Then she decided not to try at home anymore, either. Then acted downright afraid of it.  

My little girl is beautiful, funny, imaginative, smart, artistic, happy, and affectionate. She looks so grown-up to me, now. Except for that one thing.

Now, if I had been insistent, consistent, and persistent, would things be different? Yes, I believe they would be.

But let me tell you about me and potty-training. This is what it does to me:

Yes, potty-training has turned out to be like gamma rays to Bruce Banner. It turns me into a scary monster that I neither like or recognize. I’ve made my kids afraid of me. I’ve gotten into actual fights with a 3-year-old (which I didn’t used to think was possible–but oh, it is). I’ve done things that I’m not even going to mention because it’s embarrassing, and I just hope Addie forgives me for it. If you were to ask me what my worst moments in parenting are in the last 3 1/2 years, this would be it.  I don’t know what it is, but it’s scary. 

So, if ignoring the potty-training thing and letting her wear pull-ups is the way we keep the green monster at bay, believe me, we’re all better for it. And I may just wait until she decides herself to be done with the pull-ups. Judge me if you like, but I sometimes forget how fragile little girls can be, and at this point it’s more important that we like each other. Because we finally do again.

There, now that’s done. And we won’t discuss it again. (But I do promise more updates soon. And funner ones, at that.)

So, you know when you’re behind on something, you don’t feel motivated to do it? And the further you get behind, the less motivation you have? Like laundry? Or dishes? Or sorting through the mail? Yeah, that’s me and blogging.

We’ve had a lot going on in the last several months, and I do have every intention of posting photos. Addie turned 3. She took swim lessons. Jesse and I went to Florida (can you say Harry Potter World?). Westen started walking, then quickly quit crawling altogether. Then he turned 1. We went camping at the beach in San Diego. We experienced the (continuing) nightmare of potty-training. Addie started dance classes (cutest thing ever). And preschool. And now Jesse and I are headed to England for a whirlwind tour of Yorkshire (there’s a story there).

Can you see why I’ve been putting off tackling this stuff?

But last night I was messing with Vimeo to see if I could actually get around to sharing videos every now and then, so I tested out this adorable one. Now, I don’t know how to edit video (not sure I’m that interested in it, to tell you the truth), and the lighting in this one is pretty horrible, given that it was taken at night in the car with an overhead light, but I’ve still watched it about twenty times myself ’cause it kills me how adorable that girl can be. So, until I get up the motivation to document some of our summer happenings, you can enjoy this video. I know I do!

Five Little Monkeys Swinging in a Tree from Marianne Knight on Vimeo.

Westen is now 9 months old. I failed to get the regular 9-month photo, partially because I forgot, and partially because I can’t make Westen lie still for longer than two seconds unless he’s asleep. So it would’ve been futile anyways. (Yes, I stole this photo from Mike.) This is Westen’s new smile. And yes, it’s adorable.

We also haven’t been to Westen’s 9-month appointment yet, so I don’t have any stats for you. But the last post about “boys” pretty much documents Westen these days. As an update to that, in the last couple of weeks, Westen has:

• Dived head-first out of the tub;
• Almost dived head-first back IN the tub (caught his feet in time for that one);
• Figured out how to circumnavigate my barricade against the stairs, and subsequently climbed up and fell down them, and
• Pulled the living room lamp on top of himself.

The question you’re probably asking is, “Where were YOU during all of this?” The answer is: always at least one step too late.

We had a lovely Easter at home this year (although we really missed our usual Easter tradition in California with the Noltes!). I ended up getting matching outfits for Addie & Westen. (Jesse was quite incredulous at that, but what can I say? Buying little kids’ clothes is an illness with me. And these were just so stinking cute.) I tried really hard to get the Easter morning photo of them together before church. Needless to say, it didn’t work. But I thought the photos told a story, anyways.

Think these two like each other? They do. A lot. And not in a “I have to put on a brave face about this two-kid thing and claim that at least they like each other, even if life is crazy” kind of way. They really do like each other. It’s so cute.

We did an Easter egg hunt in the backyard, and Addie loved it. Westen enjoyed trying to eat dandelions.

Addie loves this dress. Side note, she is wearing it right this second, along with her Cinderalla “glass slippers” that Mel bought her in Disneyland. She thinks it’s her Snow White dress…which doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, since she’s never actually seen Snow White. Oh, well. Whatever works.

We hope your Easter was lovely, too!

I am learning…

…a little bit more…

…every day…

…how easy my first baby was.

Yes, Addie got into mischief. Yes, Addie did need to be watched so she didn’t eat dirt. But as babies go, she was probably as easy as they come. (I could probably spend this entire post about how polar opposite Addie and Westen have proven to be, but I’ll stop comparing them. I don’t want either of them to read this someday and get a complex. I’m sure I will have done so many other things by that point to give them a complex already.)

Let’s just say that I’m learning about the nature of boys. Crash course, quite literally.

It seems like forever ago that I first saw this…Westen standing in his bed. (He finally figured out the crawling thing a few weeks ago. Wow…it seems a lot longer ago than that, but it wasn’t until mid-March.) The first time I found him that way, he was so proud of himself, he was literally shaking with excitement. The second time I found him that way (pictured above), he wasn’t just standing in his bed, he was reaching for the blinds.

This kid has absolutely no sense of personal safety.

He climbs up to everything. And yes, bath-time is now a dangerous adventure. His head is a collection of bruises. He is dogged and determined, and you can’t keep him down. He will fall on his face again and again and again…and he’ll just pop up and do it again.

The second he could crawl, he wanted to do stairs.

And he likes to practice standing, with one arm free. (Oh, and he likes to practice “free-standing” too. Have I mentioned he’s not even 9 months old yet???)

And to explain the crappy nature of all these photos, they’re all taken with my phone, since that’s the only device readily handy when I find Westen doing something crazy.

The day he gets to ride one of these (and trust me, he will), he’ll be that kid who throws himself down the mountain until he gets it.

Boys are just boys, aren’t they? (Jesse apparently jumped off the roof once as a kid and broke his arm. I guess I shouldn’t wonder where this kid will get his sheer boy-ish-ness from.)

But, lest you believe I’m not a fan of baby boys…oh, I am.

Wouldn’t you be?

“Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.” – Hamlet

We have had a bad week. We have been hit by the flu. Hard.

First was Addie. Then Westen. Then me. Then my mother-in-law (whose 3-day visit turned into 5 because she was too sick to travel home).

There were some really scary moments. Addie became really pale and weak. Westen became really lethargic, and couldn’t hold himself up. Westen’s doctor even recommended IV therapy at the hospital to get him through (and had I taken Addie in at her sickest, they probably would’ve said the same for her). They’ve both lost weight. At different times during the week, I held on tight to each of them, just praying that they would turn the corner and finally start getting better.

I think we’re finally on the mend though. And little Westen, who for days hasn’t been his jolly self, is starting to show some sparks of life. What he needed to actually get him laughing again? His favorite person.

She was the best medicine for him. And I think they’re both the best medicine for me.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a very different baby than a month ago.

See, for the last few months, he’s been a challenge. So much so that I must’ve told Jesse on more than one occasion that, if he wanted more than two kids, he better talk me into another one pretty quick, because I was ready to be done with the baby thing. Forever.

But let’s go back. Last October, when he was almost three months old, I tried our first “crying it out” session at night. He did pretty well, and after a week, was sleeping from 9 – 4ish. I know that doesn’t sound awesome, but it was better than the 10, 1, and 3 he was doing every night before. He did great for awhile then…

Thanksgiving. It was a wonderful trip to California where Jesse’s entire family gathered for the holiday (a rarity). But Westen didn’t think so. That first night he wouldn’t sleep. At all. I think it was about 2am that Jesse finally put him in the car and drove around to try to get him to sleep. (Of course he did fall asleep, and promptly woke up when they came back in the house.) Usually I could get him to sleep by holding him, which I was willing to do, even if it meant I slept in a sitting position on the couch all night…but he wouldn’t have that, either.

That trip started a pretty looong few months of sleep battles. I didn’t sleep much in December and January. I felt pretty lucky to get three hours straight, and four hours was a pure treat.

One of the words I’ve always used to describe Westen is unpredictable. (Addie was, and still is, like clockwork!) However, he was predictable in his unpredictability. For example, I always knew that, if he woke up around 1am, I’d be getting up around 3 and 5:30 as well. If he woke up between 3 and 5, that would be his only waking time of the night, and he’d promptly go back to sleep after I fed him. And if he woke up before midnight…well, that was the indicator of a very, very long night ahead.

Seeing how worn I was getting with the whole thing, Jesse decided we should try to make him cry it out (again). So I tried on a few occasions in January. But the kid was stubborn. He’d cry for three to four hours straight. I’d go get Addie and put her in bed with Jesse, then I’d lay in her bed and listen to Westen cry. All night.

In December, Westen starting vomiting a lot. He’d throw up in bed after going down at night, or he’d throw up on me at 5 in the morning. And he was doing it every night. So the pediatrician said that his reflux (that we always knew he had, we just didn’t think it was that severe) was worse than we thought, and he needed medication. Turns out, he was waking up because he was in pain. And here I was letting him cry for hours on end. (Yes, no small amount of guilt at that one.) I had tried feeding him solid food a few times, and he would throw it up. He got to the point where he wouldn’t let me put a spoon in his mouth. (The pediatrician pointed out that, if you ate spaghetti then threw it up, would you want it again? What a shocker. Babies are no different.)

So, medicine to the rescue, right? I was so excited. But the first week he took it, I gave it to him at night, and he decided not to sleep at all. He only slept in little hour snippets. So I switched the medicine to daytime, and that seemed to help. He stopped vomiting, but he was still waking up several times a night.

Big sigh.

Then one day I thought I’d try something. I handed him a Ritz cracker. He devoured it. So for several days we tried different crackers. Then one night, I cooked some carrots and let him gum them. He ate them all. I snuck some oatmeal in there, too.

And he slept for ten hours that night. Ten glorious hours.

That’s all there was to it. Within a week, he was eating three (rather big) meals a day, and he’s been as happy as a clam. He sleeps up to 12 hours a night. He takes naps. He’s happy. He’s purely delightful. (He still won’t eat baby food, but that’ll work out cheaper for me, I’m sure. He’ll eat an actual cooked sweet potato, but will spit out the baby food variety.)

Who knew all he needed was food? I think food solves my problems, too, but that’s a much different story that I’ll tell another time.

What’s next? He’s working really hard on…

I know people say that time goes so quickly with a baby, and I don’t always believe that. I have days where I believe I’ll always have this baby, and I’ll be able to hold on to him forever this way. And on the flip-side of the same coin, some days I feel like I’ll always suffer from some of the issues that can plague babyhood.

But then I look at pictures, and realize that yes, time really is stuck on fast-forward.

Four Months

Five Months

And…

Six Months

Westen’s six-month appointment was a little traumatic, so I’m trying not to think about it (no, nothing dramatic, don’t worry), but he did weigh in at 17 lbs 11 oz., and measured 26 inches. He’s an adorable, happy boy, who is dying to be on the move. (Just ask anyone who’s held him…he acts like he’s going to leap out of your arms at any moment.) He’s sitting up quite nicely now, and loves to watch his sister (almost as much as he loves to watch his mama). You can tell he’s dying to play like her.

I’ll tell you more about this little guy later. For now, we’re going to be starting some medication that I’m hoping with all my little soul will help some of the issues he’s suffering from (thus I’m suffering from), and I’ll feel so much better telling you all about it when it’s not so painfully present. (I know, I’m sounding so dramatic about it. It’s really not. It just feels that way.)

But I adore this chubby boy. Wouldn’t you?

I write for this blog a lot more often than I post to it. Mostly because writing to me is cathartic, and when you’re doing cathartic writing, it’s not necessarily meant to be read. (Kind of like when you’re mad at someone, and you write a long, nasty message, then delete it, just to make yourself feel better.)

This morning I wrote such a post. It was rather self-pitying, and described how not suited to being a mom I am, and how maybe I’m not meant for this, and how motherhood is killing me physically, emotionally, and blah, blah blah.

If you can’t tell, I had  a bad night last night. One of those nights that comes all too often with my adorable baby boy, full of not-sleeping, tears, and puke. Oh, and frustration and wondering if I’d ever get that patience down that moms are supposed to have, even when dripping with baby fluids.

I’m feeling a little better now, thanks to this sweet girl.

I had meant to write a post about her soon, and why I love her so much. About how she’s (overnight – quite literally) into princesses, “tastles” (castles), tea parties, and swishy skirts, yet still loves monkeys, cars, dinosaurs (or “dinosaur bones” as she calls them), and playing catch. And how she’s learned that blowing bubbles into her milk is twice as fun with a crazy straw. And how she unwraps her candy (which yes, she does get too often) over the garbage and throws her trash away. And how she loves being tickled so much, she sometimes tickles herself and giggles. And how she throw her arms in the air and yells “I did it!” over the funniest little things. Or how I offered her a Cafe Rio quesadilla for lunch today, and all she wanted was white rice. But she consented to eat some of that quesadilla, once she put white rice on top of it. I also love how she still takes a solid 2 – 3 hour nap every day, and every once in awhile, I can hear her singing to herself after she’s supposed to be asleep at night.

I’ve thought a lot about all the cute things that make this girl so lovable.

But today, I love this sweet girl because she loves me. And somehow she’s in tune with me in a way that I did not expect, nor do I fully appreciate at times.

Today, on one of my I-can’t-do-this days, Addie gave me a big hug. She was sweet to her little brother. She played quietly by herself. And when we went out shopping (not her favorite activity), just to get out so I wouldn’t sit home and be grumpy, she held on to my arm and hugged it. She was so sweet to me, when I didn’t feel like I deserved it, that I had to cry.

I think we’re going to be okay.

Permit me a mommy moment, if you will.

I’ve been thinking about hard things: things that are difficult for us to endure, to accomplish, or even attempt.

As frail humans, we don’t like doing hard things. We know hard things make us stronger as individuals, but we shy away from them because we’re afraid of failing, or simply afraid of the pain that’ll come from just going through it. I know I have some hard things that I’m avoiding.

Turns out, as a parent, we don’t like watching our kids go through hard things, either. Case in point, Addie is now 2 ½. She still has a pacifier that she just loves. She calls it her “fer,” and now Jesse and I call it that, too. Now, I know she’s too old for it. I know that I should’ve taken it away a long time ago, because it’s just going to get harder to take it away the longer we go.

But I can’t make myself do it. Turns out it’s more my problem than hers. I like that she has something she loves, and the idea of taking that away from her is something I don’t want to do. I don’t want to listen to her cry for her ‘fer, needing the comfort she gets from it, and not being able to get it. I almost physically flinch from the thought. But I also know she’ll learn a valuable life lesson: how to mourn something and move on. After all, I’m a big fan of the “buck-up-little-trooper” philosophy, and think most of the time we just need to toughen up as individuals and not take things so seriously. (Isn’t that where depression and self-esteem problems come from?)

But as a mom, I’m discovering it’s not so easy.

And I’m learning a lot about my own mom. Or my parents, rather. They have to watch their kids go through a lot of hard things. And right now, one has to go through a trial none of us had ever imagined would happen. And the other day I actually said to my mom, “I don’t know why dad takes it so hard—it’s not his responsibility.”

Yeah, I actually said that. (Have I mentioned I still have a lot to learn about this parenting thing?) And my mom looked at me and said, “He’s a dad, Mar.”

Then I started thinking about this issue with Addie’s pacifier, and how I almost can’t bear to make her go through the emotional trauma of giving up something she loves. Because it’ll be hard on me as well as her. And turns out it won’t end with the pacifier. In fact, it might be the easy one.

Big sigh.

I know, what a downer of a post this close to Christmas! But it was on my mind. (And I promise we’ve been Christmas-ing our little hearts out this year.) And here’s a little proof!

Merry Christmas!

p.s. Love you Dan.