Willie's Christmas Album

I accidentally published this the other day before it was ready. (*Gasp*)

My cousin Willie just came out with a Christmas album. I love it, and it's only $5 to download the whole thing. You can listen to it beforehand from that link too.

I'm sure you're all burned out on Christmas music, but you can save it for next year when it will seem new again. I love how echo-y it is, and how he gets kind of scream-o at "bring us some figgy pudding". If you know him it's even better because he's funny as heck.

I can't believe how perfectly WASP-y that Santa is.

Love,
Me

awakening

The Little Fam - Christmas 2010
(I am so grateful)

It's the end of the year, and I've been doing some reflecting. There has been no New Year's Resolution-making. That's self reflection, and as important as that can be, it isn't the sort of thing I've been doing lately. I'd like to read more and be more crafty, but at the moment those things seem insignificant.

In some ways this year and part of last year were filled with loss. But I think we're coming out on the other end now, stronger and loving each other more. These were gains.

I don't want to dwell on the losses, but I can't ignore them. Most of it has happened over the past three months, but since last summer, 2009, we've experienced job loss, two cars gone bad, loss of a friend, pregnancy loss, the passing on of Jono's grandpa, lots of sickness thanks to daycare, and some (major) compromise of our ideals for how we'd like to raise our family.

The gains, on the other hand, were qualification for a government program or two (ha), learning how to be gentle with each other, and the trust we needed to generate for one another and for God. Also, a certain reverence for the concept of a part-time stay at home parent. If we ever have this good fortune again, we will never take it for granted.

I am looking forward to a new year. I'm not going to stop eating ice cream, so that's one thing to be happy about. What I'm anticipating is a light that is coming, and it's so bright I can't see what's in front of me. I don't want to see it, I just want to get through it.

Happy New Year. It's going to be good.

Thanks for reading.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitable earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any -- lifted from the no
of all nothing -- human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

- e.e. cummings

Jude Wipes the Floor with Martha Stewart

Step One: Roll the dough.

Step Two: Strain a muscle pressing a cookie cutter in
(while Mama apparently is having a nasal issue)

Step Three: Admire your work so far.

Step Four: Press one more shape into an empty spot
with your fat, dimpled hand.

Step Five: Put the cookies on a tray and then laugh about it with Grandma.

Step Six: Wait.

Step Seven: Take them out of the oven and make sure you look pinch-able.

Step Eight: After the cookies have cooled,
put them on a plate and set out your decorating materials.

Step Nine: Put some frosting on a cookie, or watch someone else do that part.

Step Ten: Use sprinkles liberally.

Step Eleven: Tilt your head in an irresistible manner.

Step Twelve: Eat one. Call Ms. Stewart and tell her you could make
better Christmas cookies than her when you were two. (Snap.)

Best. Snowman. Ever.

Merry Christmas!
Holland, Michigan - 2010

Some Bragging and a Few Confessions

So to balance out last week's Naughty Post, I'll warn you - I'm totally going to brag in this one. And I am 100% biased so pay no mind. My boy falls well within the range of normal, but to me, he's awesome. (THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE TO ANY MOTHER.) Plus I never did post a two-years update on his recent achievements, so here it is:

Flat-out Brags (and A Few Confessions):

• Brag: He said "Mississippi" perfectly as we crossed that river on the way home from Iowa for Thanksgiving.

Jude in Iowa with my cousins' kids, Asher and Devin

• Brag: He can pull off a purple shirt with green overalls better than anyone I know.

• Brag: He pronounces the Danish words for Grandpa and Grandma perfectly during our stay at my grandparents' house. My grandma is Danish and that's who they are to Jude (Bedstemor and Bedstefor)

Jude with his Bedstemor

• Brag: He is very tidy. When he was a baby, if a microscopic drop of rice cereal landed on his tray rather than in his mouth, he would meticulously dab at it with his finger until it disappeared. Once I watched him throw a ball behind one of our stereo speakers, slide the speaker to the side to get it, then carefully slide it back into place (why thank you son). The other day he and Jono were playing "Daddy Get You", where Jono chases Jude around the house and tackles him. Jude suddenly halted mid-flight near the dining room table, alarmed by the sight of a chair that wasn't pushed all the way in after we had eaten. He carefully slid it back into place, then continued his rampage around the house.
  

• Brag: He counted to ten for the first time three days before his birthday. Technically this lets me tell him, far off in the future, that he could count when he was one. Sorta.

I got this off the internet

• Confession: He's obsessed with boobies. He walks up to me and honks them whenever he wants, then proudly says "Boobie". He also pats them appreciatively and says, "Pillow". Cute now, but will need to curb it in the future.
  

• Brag: He likes to compare body parts. When I'm getting him ready for bed, he points out my freckles, then points to the freckle he has on his foot. (He says "fweckle" while he does this. For heavens' sake Jude.) He likes to show me his Boopus and then make me show him mine. He points out my chest and then asks Daddy why he doesn't have those. He looks for them on himself as well and is disappointed.

• Brag: When he's mildly bored he likes to name all of the animals and people he knows. He'll rattle off ten to twenty names, including the uncles he rarely sees (Tyler, Bett, Gant, Joel, Jessie, Ella, Mona, Giraffe, El-phant, Doggy, Kitty, Gamma, Bapa...)

Probably dismantling a parental conspiracy...

• Brag: Nothing gets by him. NOTHING. We will need to learn a second language soon.

• Confession: One time I asked him for a kiss and he said sweetly, "Okay Mommy." Then when I leaned in he smacked me on the cheek. I'm telling myself he was not being cruel, it's just that he has a warped sense of humor and was feeling spontaneous. Right?

• Brag: He sings now, kind of, though not in tune.

• Brag: His memory is scarily accurate and long-lived. We walked by an ice cream shop one evening that we had gone to months before in the summer, only in the daylight. He attempted to climb the stairs under cover of darkness saying, "ice keam, ice keam, ice keam" frantically. We saw five minutes of G-Rap's Santa Claus parade over a week ago and he was still talking about it as we decorated the tree. "Santa Kaus? Reindea'? Machin' Band? Too loud. I waved."

• Confession: He is extremely contrary right now. He's like one of those independent voters who hate whichever political party is in power at any given time, or a hipster that only thought Indian headbands were cool when he was the sole person wearing one.

"Eyes"

• Brag: He's beginning to know some of his colors. He can point out blue, green, yellow, and sometimes red. He likes to color, but only if I sit by him and continually draw "eyes". He likes to tell me exactly where to put my two little dots, and he doesn't have time for me to draw the rest of the face before he wants another pair of just eyes somewhere else on the page. Our artwork lately looks like a 50's housewife's apron.

• Brag: Alongside the naughty, he can be heart-breakingly sweet. He gives kisses and asks for hugs voluntarily, says, "Bye Daddy. I love you." when Jono leaves, asks if you're okay if it looks like you fell down or are fake-crying about something, and asks his toy dinosaurs the same question if he drops them. He always reaches for me, then lays his head on my shoulder whenever I sing to him before bed.

• Just weird: His favorite book right now is "Go Dog, Go!" When we get to the page where three dogs are having a party in a boat, he always points to the dog playing checkers and says, "No doggy! No! Don't do dat." I tell him the doggy isn't doing anything wrong. He looks at me incredulously and doesn't believe it.

So there's the two-year update, heavy on the trumping up of Jude. The grandparents won't mind.

Racy Webcam Images...

Front and side views of The Boopus

Last night at dinner Jude and I sat down to eat our toast and eggs. We weren't saying much, and after about ten seconds of silence he blurted, "Skype. Tyler."

He hadn't seen Tyler on Skype in months, so I don't know what possessed him in that moment to think of it. But of course I texted Ty and we were Skypin' within the hour. Highlight: Uncle Tyler got a couple of nice screen shots of Jude's round tummy ("The Boopus"). This will be gold to him for weeks. It is quite attractive.

The video is short, but worth the seven seconds I would say.

Somebody took a naughty pill...

I was convinced the terrible twos would be a myth for us. He was growing up to be such a gentle boy. Not a people-pleaser, per se, but careful and loving.

He still is, sometimes, and I'm sure he'll continue to be somewhere in the future. But for the moment, a lethal combination has taken place. He's two now. He's in full-time daycare. The results? Bad habits and sass. I'm being a little dramatic, but there are days.

The reason I'm partially blaming Donna's house is Carmine. Carmine's dad left his mom and he's a little angry. I don't mean to make light of that - it's just the way it is for him.

Carmine takes out some of his aggression on the younger kids by hitting them, and he is habitually disobedient and sassy with Donna. When Carmine lashes out, Jude sits there in part shock, part worship mode. Then he comes home, has a meltdown, kicks, swats and yells at his parents, mostly "no" and "mine". Mona gets bossed too, but it rolls right off her. She's a little sassy herself.

Donna claims he's almost perfect in her care, and that he's happy all the time. Perhaps she's suffering from relativism, although I do think Jude is a very good boy over there - sometimes he's better in groups. I'm grateful for that. But lately, when he gets home, something shifts. Maybe he's blowing off steam and stress from his day. Maybe it's his age, I don't know. He's extra naughty right now and I'm adjusting to the idea of my new sassy son.

The other day I put a new photo of him up by my desk at work with a classic, smirking look on his face (yep, that's the one, just above this post). It partly makes me miss him and partly makes me cringe. There's an undeniable naughty glint in his little eyeball. I guess we could call it "personality".

He does still have a hint of compassion in his heart, and I'm nurturing it like nobody's business. When he swats at me I'm either very firm or I pout a bit, depending on his mood. If I pretend to be sad about it, he'll say "Okay Mommy?" (i.e. are you okay?). Then he'll usually let me hug him. How is it possible to go from full-on frustration to having your heart melted in three seconds?

Oh, my dear boy. I love you. But seriously, cut the sass. Mama's tired.

TWO

We had a little birthday party for Jude this past weekend - just a gathering of our parents, two of our brothers, one sister-in-law and one set of (great)grandparents.

Jude liked his carrot cake, especially the cream-cheese frosting, which he gently poked with the tip of his finger and tenderly ate. He then destroyed four pieces. I was feeling fancy so I attempted to make it look like an elephant, which he liked once we told him what it was. He needed to use his imagination.

Click for pics. We love you Jude. So much.

TWO

Dutch Women Don't Get Depressed

I found this article fascinating. American Women, what do you think? Be brave.

High Violet

It's been a rough week. We won't go into it here. What I will share is what often helps me when I'm ready to jump on top of my desk at work and scream: music, music, music.

It lets me emote in a healthy, burn-no-bridges manner, as I'm sure it does for a lot of people. I have Pandora playing on my computer constantly, and hitting my 40-hours-a-month limit makes for a sad, sad day. Mock me if you will, but at work I like my U2 station - it plays The Police and stuff off the latest epic Coldplay album, the one that finally made me like that band when I used to make fun of them. That station also plays the occasional 80's anthem, which yesterday was "Don't Stop Believin'". 80's bands like that one generally suck, but on that particular day it was a mood-lifter.

One album in particular has been cathartic for me at home. The best record of the year, in my opinion, which I picked up a few months ago: THE NATIONAL: HIGH VIOLET. I highly recommend it, especially for bad weeks. It lets you be a little angry, sad and elated at the same time. Not to mention they have good taste in album art.

Oh, I could just kiss these guys, uni-brows and all. Thank you Cincinnati.

Anything in particular helping you survive lately?

Boys and Girls are Different.

Jude asked where my _________ (fill in the blank: boy part) was this morning as I was getting into the shower. I'm not in the best of moods at 6:30 am on a Tuesday. This snapped me right out of it.

He also asked me what another part of my anatomy was. I told him. He then pointed out that I have more than one of them. Again, bad mood gone completely. Thank you Jude.

How does he do that?

If you have any other good stories along these lines, please share. It's Tuesday and I need a good laugh.

(Image from pastryngifts.com)

Our Little Socialist

About to make some sort of decree, I'm sure. Will they listen?

Since he started talking we've noticed Jude is a bit of a... hmm....well, socialist. Maybe even a communist. He's our household Karl Marx.

Jude believes, with fervor, that everyone nearby should be participating in any activity he's enjoying, and everyone should have their share of whatever. Free will and uneven distribution of goods doesn't sit well with him.

If he takes a bite of something, Mama should too. Then Daddy. If he decides to do something odd just to see what it's like - like put a leaf in his mouth - Mama can expect to be told to do so as well, then Daddy. It doesn't matter if you're doing something else (using the bathroom, driving, plucking your eyebrows), if Jude knows you're in the vicinity you'll hear your name yelled by a toddler version of Lenin, but friendlier: "Daddy do it!" "Mama take a bite!" "DADDY. BITE."

Group activity at a farm in Cadillac, MI. Jude is pleased.

When he's gotten everyone to do whatever, he gets a huge look of satisfaction in his eyes and positively beams.

His personality has a strong streak of independence, but let me tell you, the boy loves group activities. Don't balk.

tiny

Jude's favorite adjective lately is also my most favorite of all his new words. Wanna know what it is? Squint a second.

It's tiny.

And when he says it, it's a really tiny word.

A few examples: we're in the backyard and he finds a very small berry lying in the dirt next to a hosta plant. He bends down, picks it up and shows it to me. "Tiny," he says.

We're outside and he's riding his four-wheeled bike. A plane flies overhead, high up in the sky. He looks up and points, then looks at me. "Mama! Tiny." (Stop it now. Heads are exploding three blocks away.)

Jude, listen. When you say "tiny" in your tiny voice that comes out of your tiny body, you are asking to be squished. So don't act surprised when it happens.

Here he is giving me a hug. Then he says "circle", and "tiny". He's relentless.

Orchard

We went out to Fruit Ridge Farm just outside the city last night to do Fall stuff. He picked this apple and immediately tore into it. (You can hear him whispering "apple", then "bite".) He was so thrilled with that piece of fruit; he kept it firmly between his two paws like a chipmunk and didn't stop gnawing on it for an hour, occasionally sharing a bite when asked.

He was dressed like a little lumberjack, and he had a great time riding behind the horses, going through the woods on the wagon, playing in the pumpkin field, picking that apple and chasing a kitty.

He has such a tiny voice right now, I'm going to try not to ever forget how it sounds.

All Stars

Half n' Half

Somebody got his Canadian card in the mail yesterday. He is now officially 76 centimeters tall and a dual citizen.

Aren't you proud Grandma K? :)

Spilled Milk

The first sentence I remember hearing Jude say was when I asked him where his Daddy was in a photo. He pointed at Jono's face and said, "There he is!"

Since then he's said "Light, I see it!" (pointing to a lamp) and "Look at that!" (after something he thinks is cool just happened). There are also plenty of things he says that have no translations.

Yesterday as he finished his supper he tipped his sippy cup over and put pressure on the nozzle so it would release a small puddle of milk onto his tray. He pressed his face down into it, nose and mouth in full contact with the liquid, and slurped it up until it was gone. He raised his head and looked at me, a drop of milk trembling on the end of his nose and another one running down his chin.

"Slurp it," he said.

He followed the same routine another five or six times, saying "slurp it" every time.

I sat there quietly, intrigued. As often as Jono and I are tempted to slurp milk off the table, I'm thinking he must've picked this up at daycare. Either that or we're in denial he's becoming a little boy. He's so nonchalant lately. When one of us walks into the room he casually raises a hand and says, "Oh, hi."

He seems to have picked up on the social cues of an older child.

For now I'll just watch. And laugh.

Upper Peninsula

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan
(Photos by Tyler)

Captain Underpants

I turned from folding t-shirts to find him rummaging through my sock and underwear drawer, chattering to himself. Smirking, I went about my business, putting clean laundry back in its place.

A few minutes later I glanced at him again. He had a pair of my strawberry-speckled underpants on his head, a bit of his light-brown hair poking out from a leg hole. He was looking at me, eyes wide and twinkling, hands at his sides, the corners of his mouth waiting for me to notice.

"Hat," he said proudly, a hint of glee in his voice.

I couldn't resist. I went to the drawer, chose a peach-colored pair and put it on my head.

"Hat," I said, echoing him.

Our faces were inches from each other, gazes locked, a pair of underpants on each of our heads. We were giving each other the same intense look and marveling at how hilarious we were.

I was thinking in that moment (and in many moments before and since)...

i love this boy.

(Jude and me, a Spring or two ago)

Stylin'

I've heard it said that it isn't as fun to dress boys as it is to dress girls. Frankly, I love boy stuff. Better than girl stuff. Not that I've ever had any opportunity to buy girl things, but whatever. Don't tell me the items below aren't more irresistible than any tu-tu you've ever seen. Don't tell me.

My friend Ernie has a hat similar to this one, picked by his wife of good taste, Kristen.
I think Jude could pull it off spectacularly.

From Woodland Rogue on Etsy

If we lived in Liverpool I might dress him in this:

But these will do. Based on British flashcards.
(They'd do a whole lot better if they weren't so bloody expensive.)

From Charlie and Sarah on Etsy

OR, Jude and mama could be twinners. A shirt for him, a bag for me:

Charlie and Sarah again, on Etsy

OR we could be twinners again wearing matching shirts.
This may be taking it too far. But I'll admit, I'm going there in my head.




From Happy Family on (where else) Etsy

Hmmm. There is a 2nd birthday coming up. And I suppose I could make a couple of exceptions to his second-hand wardrobe, for the occasion.