Happy 1st Birthday Michael!

Somewhere amidst the illness that plagued our family for a little over a week, my little boy turned 1-year-old.  Although Maeve's first few years went by rather quickly for us,  Michael's first year was gone in a flash.  He has developed so much, even in the last few weeks or so and I wish I could cast some sort of a spell on him to slow down his progress - just for a little while. I'm almost certain that when he takes his first few steps, they'll be more like gallops.  

Unfortunately no one was feeling 100% when it came time to enjoy something sweet after dinner but this video was taken at 6 AM on his birthday and as you will observe, even at the crack of dawn, he seems quite pleased with himself.

I have compiled below a list of some of Michael's "firsts" and also some of the things that make him most happy in the life he has fervently lived thus far..

Dad: Da

Mom: Mah, mah, mah, mah...you get the idea
Maeve: Mae

Uh Oh: Ah-o
Banana: Na-na-na

_________________________________________
Next we have a couple of samplings of some of his responses to certain questions or cues:

What does the dog/bird/fish/kitty/elepant/horse/sheep/or just about any other animal roaming the planet say?  uh-uh
_______________________________________
Favorite foods (in no particular order): 

Goldfish crackers, tofu nuggets, shredded wheat cereal, pancakes, blueberries, dried cherries, prunes, banana, raisins, PB&J sandwiches, cheerios, yogurt, meatballs, avocado, cheese, peas, carrots (cooked of course), broccoli (well-done), applesauce, pears
_______________________________________
These are a few of his favorite things (again, in no special order):

Binky
Blanket

Books

Ball

Remote controls (it really IS a guy thing)

Phones

_______________________________________
Favorite activities:

Rocking back and forth from the moment you place him in his high chair until the moment he is released from his high chair

Reading books

Being outside 

Riding on his Dad's shoulders

Ripping his Mom's glasses off her face

Looking out the window

Swings

Going for rides in his red plastic sports car
Beating the you-know-what out of Chris' guitar while he's playing it (I like to call it "percussion")

Climbing stairs
Opening his Mom's night stand drawers (and then shutting his meaty fingers in them)
Throwing food on the floor 

Racing to the bathroom to begin unraveling the toilet paper roll before anyone else can get in there

Yanking his birdies out of their toy birdhouse and then stuffing them back inside 

Climbing...anything

_______________________________________

Sign language:

No (it figures...)

Stop 

More

_______________________________________

Michael, we love you like the dickens and are so proud of who you've become in such a short period of time.  You amaze us every day and command our love like no other.  Happy Birthday little one.  Love, Mom, Dad and Maeve

Ode to the Lumberjack

I'm a Lumberjack and I'm okay.

I sleep all night.  I work all day.

So Michael is a lumberjack.  I'm still not sure what Maeve's role is...

"M" is for Michael, "M" is for Mischievous

Upon entering the kids' room the other day, this is what I discovered.  Note to self: must never leave my son's side...ever.

Belly Aches, Sniffles and Lullabies

On Wednesday night/Thursday morning, we weathered one of the toughest "storms" so far this season.  He was on day three of a pretty mean head cold so we gave Michael a little bedtime "tasting" of Motrin and tucked him in for the night. We knew we'd hear from him at least a few times - he typically needs an adjustment or two if he has rolled over and inadvertently spit out his binky.  But as it turns out, it wasn't Michael who gave us a shout out.

Chris heard it first - around 2:30 AM.  What we thought was initially just a cough, turned out to be coughing in the middle of throwing up.  Poor Maeve was sitting up in her bed staring at the floor and the mess she had made, crying for someone's help.  Chris rushed her into the bathroom and rubbed her back as he re-introduced her to the potty from a new perspective.

In all, Maeve must have visited the bathroom 10-12 times that night/morning with Chris and I taking turns on each shift.  Of course, 2 or 3 of those visits were "false alarms" and during one of them, I had the pleasure of sitting with her as she bent over the potty, utterly exhausted from the evening's events.  Once she realized nothing was happening, she turned to me and said, "Mom? I'll take care of this tomorrow."

It was painful to watch our little one endure her illness and it was difficult to try to explain to her what was happening in a way in which she would understand.  She looked up at me with tears rolling down her face and said "Mom, I don't want to do this anymore."  How do you explain to a 3 year old, that what her body was doing was actually a good thing?  Anyway, I'd say things were looking up for her at about 6:00 PM Thursday evening.

Thursday night, we were all in bed by 9:30 PM.  We were physically exhausted from the previous day's events and had our fingers crossed that everyone got a good night's sleep - especially Maeve.  Some time in the middle of the night, our little boy began whimpering. Probably a result of not being able to breathe out of his plugged up nostrils, but Chris and I will never know.  Because before either one of us could muster the energy to get out of bed to answer his call, we heard Maeve very softly singing from her bed, the one song that can instantly sooth Michael no matter what has upset him: Michael Row the Boat Ashore.  In the dark of night, she sang to her brother, from beginning to end and right on pitch.  And that was the last we heard from either one of them until day break.

Hallelujah.