Of Moths and Men

We don't have pets now. We won't have pets later. That was decided before Martha the Moth made the poor decision to fly into the house - Martha just sealed it.

One on hand, I'm proud of Teagan that she approached a moth without any fear or trepidation and on the other, I'm wondering what she won't touch considering how ugly this moth was. 

It was resting near the oven when Teagan audibly gasped and cried, "It's a butthly!" (Teagan for butterfly) and picked it up by a leg. Which tore off, so she picked it up by its wings. She wanted to return the butthly to its rightful home outside, so threw it in the air, only to have it fall very quickly back to earth. If moths had hindsight, this one would have put a little more effort into flying away. 

"She will be my pet!" Teagan exclaimed with glee, apparently interpreting the moth's injury as a plea to stay with her. So, I reluctantly pulled out a glass, poked some holes in some plastic wrap and allowed her to gently place her new pet in its enclosure. It seemed to be DOA, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. She confirmed with me several times that I had indeed provided a way for the butthly to breathe, but I think her concern would have been better placed with the poor thing's missing limbs. 

To distract her from the fact that her new pet wasn't moving, I asked Teagan what its name was. "Takawana," she replied, without missing a beat. This girl has the most creative names for dolls and pets - I'm nervous for her progeny. Unless she winds up in Utah, and names like Shoosh, Blones and Takawana are in the top 10. It took me a few times to get it right when I tried to repeat it back to her, so she decided that Martha was easier to say. So Martha it is. Was. 

I never quite know what she will remember (the scabby old dresses and T-shirts that I try to hide in hopes she'll wear something that <gasp> actually matches only to have her ask for the hidden items specifically, months after I've put them away) and what she will forget ("Please make sure you wash your hands after you use the toilet!") so when there is doubt, I try not to get rid of things. We returned from an hour of play in the backyard to find Grandma doing dishes, Martha's makeshift habitat now resting, overturned,  in the dishwasher. I tried to distract her with talk of colouring and all things shiny, praying she wouldn't ask about her pet. Mission accomplished - who doesn't love shiny things? 

We were talking about insects the next day and without thinking, mentioned that one looked like Martha. I held my breath and waited for the weeping and wailing upon discovering that dear Martha was no longer with us. Unnecessarily, as she simply asked, "Who?"

Martha, you made a lasting impression on me and the cats, dogs and small rodents everywhere who have you to thank that the Richards will be settling for digital pets for the foreseeable future. Rest in peace, my winged friend.

11 Months of Mason

• Since he's mastered crawling, he's decided to take the stairs whenever he can (ie. whenever I'm not looking). He's fallen once and remained flat on his back like a bug until I came to pick him up. That didn't faze him, as he was right back at it within minutes. 
• We lost him at family dinner on the 7th and he had climbed all the stairs by himself up to Teagan's room.
• He doesn't crawl. He cruns. That's crawling and running combined. He's found that he's fastest when he uses his feet instead of his knees, so hardly does the latter.
• He loves blowing raspberries on glass - mirrors, windows...it's hilarious.
• He sprouted a tooth near the beginning of the month and is just working on his second. Babies younger than him look older than him. And a lot like a scene from Jaws.
• He can bonk heads, high five and give kisses on command. And by "kisses" I mean he will lean into your lips with his mouth wide open. It's an experience.
• He gets so goofy at bedtime. An 8 oz. bottle takes entirely too long to feed him because he's so busy giggling, sticking his fingers up your nose and grabbing your lips.
• He loves music - he calms right down when I sing to him.
• He always LOVES being outside. If he's crying, 10 times out of 10 you can take a step outside and he stop and be perfectly fine. Until you try to take him back inside.
• His passion for music and the outdoors leads me to believe he'll be a wandering minstrel when he grow up. 
• In addition to being outside, he loves to be anywhere he isn't supposed to be - the toilet, the shower, the garbage. It's unreal.
• One of his favourite indoor haunts is the treadmill upstairs. If all the bathroom doors are closed, he's usually sitting serenely on the stationary treadmill, or squealing because he's stuck and can't get off.
• He babbles, running his fingers across his lips, a la Hook (a movie from the 90s.) Brandon calls him Bangarang from time to time.
• He's VERY communicative. He knows exactly what he wants and grunts at it, flails and growls at you until you get it right. I can't wait for him to speak.
• Speaking of speaking, his first word was BABY on September 28th, just shy of 11 months. He caught me completely off guard and repeated "baby" numerous times, completely melting my heart.

Mason Moment:

I'm always torn when my kids go off on their own - which, for the record, has only happened a handful of times. I want to enjoy my incredibly rare time alone, but at the same time wonder what they are doing. I went downstairs to switch some laundry the other day and snuck back up the stairs quietly to see if I could catch a glimpse of what they get up to when I'm not around. It was darling. Teagan was talking to Mason softly and sweetly and he was just exploring. After a minute or two, he caught me and our eyes connected across the room. His face lit up like a Christmas tree and he immediately began to crun towards me as fast as his tiny body could. I scaled the makeshift baby gate and squeezed that little nugget as hard as I could. It was so precious. My love for this little man grows almost as fast as he does. Which is fast.

Formula for a Happy Mason

Helloooooo nursing! If you can do it, nursing's great. I've been fortunate enough to be able to nurse both my babies for the better part of their first year - Teagan until a few weeks past one and then Mason. Mason, Mason, Mason. In the beginning it came really easily to both of us. He latched immediately on one side and continue to favour that side for as long as I nursed him and was really good at it for a while. 

There was the little issue of spitting up. Okay, "spitting up" is a polite way of describing when babies dribble a little and you wipe their mouths with a small cloth. Mason didn't spit up. Mason EXPLODED. Daily. Several times daily. It was maddening. I can still remember the feeling of hot liquid careening down my shirt and soaking through the layers I was wearing. Trying to navigate the stairs without dripping, because it had made it onto my pants as well. Showering numerous times a day and still smelling like baby vomit. The endless dance of rinsing and washing and drying, both of us getting down to the last thing in our wardrobes that fit us. Looking for some sort of a sign that it was about to happen and we came up with the FIRESWAMP Theory covered HERE involving a few clicks and gags, giving you a millisecond's warning he was about to erupt. 

 

Beyond the mess, I was concerned that he wasn't getting enough nutrition, since everything in his wee body seemed to come up. Several friends suggested I give up milk, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions, especially since I enjoy dairy so much and wasn't convinced that was the problem. His pediatrician assured me he was growing and it wasn't affecting his development, he was merely overeating and needed to be regulated a little. He's ours, after all. So we pressed on and celebrated the small victories.

As he got older, the "spit up" slowed, but he would nurse for a few minutes and get distracted and do anything besides eat. With an active toddler, I couldn't spend an hour trying to convince him he needed to eat and only actually nursing for a few minutes. My supply seemed to dwindle a bit as well, because the demand wasn't there. I hadn't intended to wean him completely when Brandon and I spent a weekend without the kids, but circumstances (ahem, me forgetting a power source for my pump and not having the time to collect enough breastmilk in advance) sped things along and forced Brenda to mostly feed him with formula over that weekend at the end of August. He slept through the night for the first time in my memory and from then on, it seemed like a steady diet of formula and meat was the formula for a happy Mason. We'd had a good run, and this just seemed to work better for all of us and I'm grateful to my in-laws for helping us provide him with all the formula he needs - speaking of, it was nice to have a specific recommendation of ounces from the doctor, rather than an amount of time spent at the breast, which never seemed to amount to much for us.
As he approaches a year, I feel like this was the best solution for us and the little man has thrived. He got the best of both and we are now enjoying the freedom that comes from formula. Especially now that he his holding his own bottle. Putting him down for a nap with a bottle at 10 months was so liberating! He was eating more because I wasn't watching and waiting and growing impatient. He was finishing bottles and getting more than the recommended amount and - get this - keeping it down!

Gestures of love change over time, and more than flowers (which I don't especially love) or even chocolate at this point (I know!) I love that Brandon sets a fresh bottle outside Mason's door before he leaves for his 12 hour work day. This means that I don't have to get dressed to go downstairs and squint through sleepy eyes to get the proportions correct and it buys me at least 15 minutes of extra rest each morning. He will yell at me when he wakes up, I open the door just enough to extend my arm to the crib (I don't even let him see me) and he reaches out to take the bottle and we are good until it's finished. It's a beautiful way to ease me into the day - not a morning person - especially when neither of us smells like old milk.

Things Teagan Says V

Named her babies the following:

Baby Darthy (not “Dorothy” – from firsthand experience) and Baby Blones.

Named her Care Bear “hot dog vanilla ice rainbow ice cream with a heart.”

“Mason’s been crying for 6 years. And he’s been poopy for 5 years.”

“Oh my cow.” (Combo of “Oh my goodness” and “Holy cow”)

“Boom shacka shacka.

Teagan: “Let’s have some girl fizzy drink.” (Strawberry Fanta)

Me: “But you don’t like fizzy drink.”

Teagan: “I do! Let’s have some fizzy drink.”

{Pssst of the opening can}

Teagan: “I don’t like fizzy drink.”

“Mom, can I please have ice?”

I gave it to her.

“It’s cold. I don’t like cold.”

Teagan: “Today we need a t-shirt, shorts and socks.”

Me: “And cheese?”

Teagan: “Yes. And cheese.”

“When I was a grandma, I used to go to heaven all the time…Grandad died. Why?”

Me: “Let’s think of rhyming words.”

Teagan: “Okay. Grass and…walk!” (I must say I was relieved.)

Teagan: “There’s a bad guy in my room!”

I bolted up the stairs not knowing what I would find, and when I found nothing, I brought her up to have her point it out. It was the mom from the dollhouse.

“I don’t want Mason to grow up.” She actually gets very emotional about this and we get into heated, existential debates.

Teagan: “Why does Daddy have to work?”

Me: “Because we need money.”

Teagan: “We need money to buy ice cream? We already have ice cream. I don’t want Daddy to go to work.”

Teagan: “Are you Daddy’s age?”

Me: “Well, Daddy is 8 months older than me.” Which lead to a discussion of months vs. years. “Months are less than years. Mason isn’t a year old yet, he’s just months. He’s 8 months." Apparently she didn’t grasp the concept.

Teagan: “So are you 8 months?”

She’s been in a big Chipmunks and Chipettes phase lately, so we borrowed the latest movies from the library and watched them sing all sorts of chart toppers. I showed her Beyonce’s Single Ladies and she simply asked, “Where’s Britney?”

In church, looking through the LDS Gospel Art book:

Livi: “This is Thomas S. Monson, he’s our prophet.”

Teagan: “He’s our prophet too!”

In the bathtub:

“My toots look like fireworks.”

Playing Potato Heads.

Teagan: “Mom, this is my Potato Head. Ask me about her family!”

Me: “Where’s your mum?”

Teagan: “Oh, she’s dead.”

Teagan: “Sad! Do you miss her?”

Teagan: “No.” She won’t be giving my eulogy!

Ended up with toilet paper hanging out of her bottom. I tried to remove it.

“But I want a tail!”

This little woman is so wonderfully weird and crazy curious and I love her funny little personality when we aren't at odds over something trivial that snowballs into a meltdown.

10 Months of Mason

• All of a sudden, at 9.5 months he got really good a crawling. Mostly bear crawling, on hands and feet, or one knee and one foot. It's kind of adorable.
• He is the master of crying and whining and waving and flailing (the list goes on) until someone picks him up. It's almost like he forgets how to crawl when he's upset and will just plant himself until someone takes pity on him - which always happens, because he's so stinking cute.
• He started standing up against things around the 8th of the month - first the bathtub (probably the worst thing surface to start with) then the crib. I remember the first morning I went in to get him and he was standing up in the crib, on the side closest to the door, and I jumped, it surprised me so. The look on his face suggested he was pretty surprised to be there as well. 
• He's a terrible napper - 1 hour on a great day.
• Got roseola at the beginning of the month, towards the end of our cabin week with the whole Richards side of the family. We didn't know what it was at the time (I think that's the nature of roseola) but he was throwing up and feverish for days. So sad. He broke out in a rash (a sign that it's cleared up) the day after I took him to the doctor. Of course.
• Almost daily, I have people commenting on his beautiful eyes, his cheeks, his hair. Some of the latest and greatest comments:
•  Women telling me they are swooning and thinking about having more babies when they see him
• "He looks like the Gerber baby!" (All the time)
• "He has cherub cheeks! I could hang him on my Christmas tree."
• "He makes the perfect little Hansel."
• We made the switch to formula at the end of August! Brandon and I spent two nights at the cabin towards the end of August to celebrate our anniversary. I left some breastmilk, but planned him to have a lot of formula. And guess who slept through the night? I can count on no hands the number of times I've gotten a good night's sleep since his birth, so 
• filling him up at night
• me forgetting a power source for my pump (oops)
• him messing around too much to nurse properly these days (seriously, bedtime has us both in laughing fits lately because he'd rather smile and squish my face than nurse)
• me not having the patience to nurse
• expenses minimized by living with the in-laws
• these all combined to convince me that formula might be best for my little man at this stage of the game. And I think it's paying off in his statistics that came back at our closer-to-10-than-9 month appointment.
• Stats:
• Height: 28" (10th percentile) this has his father concerned
• Weight: 20 lbs. (45th percentile)
• Head: 18 1/4" (75th percentile)

Cyclical Questioning

I’ve never known a child who asked more questions than Teagan. Granted, she’s the first child I’ve ever had, but I hope it’s just her and that my next ones don’t ask nearly as many. Most of her questions revolve around “Why?” and I can’t seem to answer them well enough for her, because they just breed more questions. Questions like “Why is that a house?” and the age old “Why is the sky blue?”

Lately, I’ve been caught in a net of questioning and I can’t seem to answer my way out. Por ejemplo:

Driving down the street:

Teagan: “What was her name?”

Me: “I don’t know.”
Teagan: “Who was dat?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Teagan: “I’m asking Daddy. Daddy, who is dat?”

Buddy: “Sally.” (just to end the barrage of questions)

Teagan: “Who’s Sally?”

Another day:

Teagan: “What’s dare names?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Teagan: “Why don’t you know dare names?”

Me: “Because they’re strangers.”

Teagan: “Why are day strangers?”

Me: “Because I don’t know them.”

Teagan: “Why don’t you know them?”

Me: “AARGH!”

Teagan: “IS it nighttime?”

Me: “Yes.”

Teagan: “Why is it nighttime?”

Me: “Because it’s dark.”

Teagan: “Why is it dark?”

Me: “Because the sun is down.”

Teagan: “Why is the sun down?”

Me: “Because it’s nighttime.”

Teagan: “Why is it nighttime?”

She doesn’t believe me when I tell her I don’t know, so she pushes me until I can make up an answer. From this day forward, my strategy is just to answer with confidence and pray for minimal follow up questions. Pray for us.

9 Months of Mason

• Life with Mason is a roller coaster. In the sense that he's happy one minute, screaming the next and back to laughing in a minute, but also that he rolls everywhere. That's his main mode of transportation. He finds himself under all sorts of things and stuck against walls. It's interesting to watch - he turns his head to look at whatever it is he's trying to get or where he's trying to go and follows his perfectly round head there, all the while trying to keep an eye on the prize. He'll do great spins one day.
• Still not crawling - he will get up on his hands and knees on occasion, but he prefers to roll at the moment.
• We spend a lot of time fishing things out of his mouth. No teeth, but he likes to eat like an adult - french fries, milkshakes and other such delights and if he'd only grow teeth, he'd be able to eat so many more delicious things.
• He does NOT like mashed potatoes. Both times he's tried them he has shuddered and made a pouty face, often sticking out his tongue. Idaho may be tough for him.
• He does, however, love to suck on noses. I don't get him.
• He is a delight when he is being played with. Not so much when you put a pile of toys in front of him when you need to do something as simple (and necessary) as showering or dishes.
• Fights getting into his carseat like his life depends on it. Doesn't mind it once he's in, but getting there is a struggle every time. 
• Still isn't sleeping through the night, but I can usually nurse him back to sleep.
• Went for his first dip in Lake Coeur d'Alene and loved it. The lifejackets squished his cheeks delightfully and we all had a good laugh at his chubby expense. 
• Had his first ice cream cone (cast offs from some cousins who took pity on him) and loved it.
• Bath time is his favourite and he loves to sit under the spout to try and catch the water as it comes out.

I couldn't decide which picture was the cutest for his 9 month photo (appropriate that he's sans clothes, since it is his preferred state these days.) I really should have gotten him into modeling. What a Face.

 

We moved to Moscow this month and have been surrounded by family, which has already proved wonderful. Mason has taken a particular liking to his oldest cousin, Jacob, and looks around for him if he knows he is close. He could be screaming, and one look from Jake puts a smile on his face. They seem to have a really special connection and it melts my heart just a little - I don't think Jake minds it either. He may "have to" take Mason to a Stake Dance one of these days.