This week (let me just brag)

A couple of things that happened this week, which proves that my kids really ARE exceptional. (Of course, I am not biased, AT ALL.) :)

We went to apply for Ariana's passport at the post office (what do you know, you need an appointment after all). At the end of the 20-minute process (including getting her picture taken - which, by the way, turned out ADORABLE), the clerk says: "I have to commend you; you have great kids. Very well behaved. Usually when the kids come, it's a disaster for everyone." I don't know what he's experienced in the past (feel a little sorry for him), but as a parent, it felt good to hear that.

I went to Barnes and Noble with Caleb and we picked up a Kindergarten-1st Grade workbook for him, which he seemed to really enjoy when I went through the first few pages with him in the store. When checking out, the lady says, "Is he entering first grade?" Me: "Uhm, no... he's 3. But he's been doing Kindergarten level work with no problem, so I thought we'd give this a try." (Yes, I do forget at times that he is Preschool age. But that's what's so great about homeschooling. We do not progress at a pre-determined grade level based on age, but advance based on the child's individual rate of learning. Which far exceeds the public school guidelines, apparently.)

In the Eye of the Beholder

Caleb has a toy snake. It's an orange colored, ugly looking thing with fangs, and it is squishy and rubbery in texture, almost like a real snake - at least I think that's what a real snake would feel like, if I ever actually touched and squished one. No, thanks.

The snake looks like a cobra. It's hideous.

Anyway, his father bought it for him. But you already knew that.

I hate that snake, I really do. I try to stay away from it, because it creeps me out just to look at it, much less to touch it, and on the rare occasion that I find the baby with it and must disentangle her chubby little fingers from the snake's squishy body or make her release her teething bite from the snake's fangs, well you can just imagine my JOY.

So this afternoon, I'm picking up the floor a little, and of course there is the snake, and I must touch it now, and it creeps me out yet again, and as I quickly toss it in a bin with the other toys, I can't help myself, but utter: "Eew, I don't like that snake."

Caleb is sitting at the other end of the room, doing one of his activities, but takes notice, looks up and says, "What? What did you say?" And I repeat, "I don't like that snake."

At which he speaks in his bright little voice, defending the shunned toy: "I like that snake! It's beautiful for me!!"

Well, who can argue with that? I guess, it's all in the eye of the beholder.

Caleb's humor

{Background: There were a few occasions with the baby early on, when we needed to use the bulb syringe. She would spit up and start choking, and I would run for the bulb syringe and quickly clean out her mouth and nose. Caleb witnessed these incidents.}

YESTERDAY:

I burp audibly.

Caleb disappears to the other room and comes running back, carrying the bulb syringe. He moves it in the direction of my mouth, with a grin on his face.

"Mommy burp. Help Mommy!" he says, as he cracks up.

"Very funny, Caleb." I say, but I cannot stop laughing, either.

I cannot believe the humor of my 2 year old.

Laughter in the kitchen

We're making a dinner of lamb chops. Ron says, "Maybe we should season it differently tonight." (Our usual is garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil.)

Ten minutes later, it's time to season the lamb. I absentmindedly grab the cinnamon, and am ready to sprinkle just as Ron walks into the kitchen.

He says, "What's that?"
"Garlic." - I glance at it. "Oh no, it's cinnamon."
"I asked for different, not crazy."

***

I'm washing dishes. Ron walks into the kitchen excitedly exclaiming:

"You found grease and I found turkey!"

"Huh?"

My mind is in the kitchen. I try to piece together the story. He just came from the living room... and he's reporting that there's grease there AND turkey?

Grease, okay, we do have a 2-year-old, but... turkey??? When was the last time we ate turkey?!

Thanksgiving turkey?!!?

At last, he provides the context I am missing:

"Caleb's puzzle. You found Greece. And I just found Turkey. The missing pieces?"

"Oh."

***

"Fut and Walk"

It is Friday evening, the end of a long day and an even longer week. My toddler stands next to me, endlessly repeating the phrase "Fut and walk!" (run and walk), letting me know just what he wants to do as he charmingly mixes the two languages he knows. It is so darn charming, even after I am forced to listen to it over and over again, repeated about 50 times, and watch his eyes gaze pointedly at the deck door, beckoning me to lead him outside. Each time, my repeated answer is a variation of "No, not today, sweetie, Mommy is very tired." It has been a very long day. Repeating the same answer 50 times isn't helping.

He doesn't seem to comprehend my negative answer. He is not used to being refused on this simple, easily executable request, to go play in the backyard. I am not used to denying him this basic childhood need/wish to go outdoors once a day and exercise his limbs. My resolve to deny his request wanes; he is quickly wearing me down. Mommy guilt is kicking in. My mind cries, I just cannot.

His 51st request grants him his wish.

With resignation I give in at last, asking: "You really want to go outside?" His brightening face and elated reply is my reward: "Yeah! Fut and walk!"

Before we head out, I make it clear that this time, Mommy is neither going to fut, nor walk. She is going to sit under the deck with a book and watch Caleb do all the running and walking. He is fine with that: "Okay, Mommy." He grabs his own book. I try telling him that he will not need that for the running and walking he'll be doing, but he insists.

When the running and walking is all done and he's gotten some kind of yucky worms on his toy truck he threw into the wheelbarrow that filled up with rain in last night's thunderstorm, which wormy things also somehow got crushed on his truck, but not before they tried to crawl all over me... he is all ready to go back inside.

I carry the wormy toy truck with two careful fingers upstairs and spend the next ten minutes washing it. Then spend the next twenty minutes washing Caleb. After the bath, he quickly, contentedly falls asleep. And then, blissfully, so does his mother.

The End.

Tell me, who could refuse this face?

And who could deny this one?

Moments from Our Day

Moment 1:

Caleb greets me in the morning with a kiss and a hug. He notices my baby tummy and greets the baby with a kiss and a hug, too. He then puts out his hand and says "Help?" - an offer to help me get up out of bed. It looks like I am raising a gentleman.

Moment 2:

We pull up to the bank and the teller asks, "Can he have an S-U-C-K-E-R?" - spelling it out. I smile and say, "Oh, no" thinking to myself, it's sweet of her to spell it out, but it's unnecessary, as he doesn't even know what a sucker is yet, and I'd like to keep it that way for a while.

Moment 3:

We go to the Mall with the sole purpose of riding the coin-operated cars there, as Caleb requested. I decide not to take the stroller this time, but hold his hand through the long walk in from the parking lot... in the rain. He does great. On the way back, I must let go for a second so I can hit the unlock button on my remote. My other hand is full of take-out food (another thing he requested). The moment I let go, the child takes off towards the curb, intent on heading over to the other side of the parking lot. I feel like a sheep herder, as I swiftly maneuver him back towards the car, with excited exclamations of food! drink! - just so he would comply. It works.

The Haircut

In preparation for spending Valentine's Day with both grandmas, one grandpa, and two aunts

a couple days prior, the grooming begins...

Here, my sweet boy still looks like a girl.

But a few snips later, a new person emerges...

"Is it really gone? My beautiful mane? All of it?"

Mama's tools. Most important of them, the Bribe: CHOCOLATE.

"If you sit still and watch your video, I'll feed you chocolate!"

Works like a charm - every time.

And then, let's not forget the water. This serves two purposes:

1. Assisting Mama in the cutting process.

2. Entertaining Caleb with play time afterwards.

Which results in wetting the nose.

And wetting the face.

Giggling about it.

Showing chocolate-stained teeth.

And of course, wetting the hair just like he saw Mama do it.

"I think it's now perfect."

Ready for the family.

2 years old

You turned two a couple of weeks ago, on Christmas Eve; that’s how late I am with this letter. In my defense, I have been very busy with pursuits that put food on the table, on your table, so you can eat. I know you’d rather eat than to have a promptly delivered 2-year letter, which you probably won’t even read until you’re at least 20. Why do I know you’d rather eat? Your appetite has increased to unspeakable proportions in the last couple of weeks, since you’ve turned two. You went from never asking for food to sidling up to me every 30 minutes (I kid you not!) with a ravenous look, pleading with your charming Hungarian word: “HAMMM!!!” It reminds me of Oliver Twist pleading: “More, please!!!

But getting back to the month before you turned two. Firstly, let it be known that in your 24th month of life, you began to call me and your Dad not only “Mama” and “Daddy” but also Mommy, Mummy, MOM and DAD! I have no idea where you picked up these shortened versions, normally not uttered by very young children, except for the fact that you do like to simplify things and thus make your life easier, your speech more succinct. I wouldn’t be surprised if you came up with Mom and Dad entirely on your own, in your quest to be concise, never having heard it anywhere before. (You might make a good dictionary editor one day.) When I hear you call me MOM, I often want to ask: “Just how old are you?” To this, you would grin, show two fingers on both hands and shout: “TWOOOOOO!”

You do this now all the time, except for a brief one-week period coinciding with Christmas at your grandparents’, where I was eager to show off this adorable cuteness. You had been saying it for a month, but a few days before our trip, what do you know, your Daddy decided to teach you ALL OF THE ENGLISH NUMBERS with corresponding fingers, and after this you decided that, actually, you liked to show the numbers 5 and 1 much better than 2. So anytime I asked you your age at your grandparents’ your reply of “TWO!” was accompanied with a showing of 5 fingers, or sometimes 1. (Arrgh!)



Honestly, I can’t blame your Dad entirely for this, because a few days before Christmas, just as I discovered that you are unable to show me two fingers anymore as you tell me your age, and was scratching my head about this, I sat down with you to watch an old episode of Sesame Street. Immediately, a light was shed on the mystery, as the cute little Sesame Street character was unable to match the pronounced numbers with his displayed fingers, saying FIVE when showing THREE fingers, and ONE when showing FOUR, etc.

Why the creators of Sesame Street in 1975 thought that confusing a generation of children about their numbers would be funny, I’ll never know. But I’ll venture to guess they didn’t actually know any toddlers. You know, the real live kind. The kind that soak up, like a sponge, absolutely everything they see and hear. Like wrong fingers displayed with the wrong numbers. And the kind that, come Christmas 2008, will now be unable to display the proper fingers with the proper number when it’s time to show off their knowledge to the grandparents. Very funny, indeed!

There are other cute things you say. When I ask you “Who loves you?” you say, “Mama.” Then I ask, “Who else?” and you answer, “Daddy.” When I prod you for a third time, “Who else?” you shout “GOD!” while pointing at the ceiling. When I ask you, “Where is God?” you quietly answer, “Heaven.” This is good enough material for video, but of course, you never want to say any of this when I bring out the video.

There are so many other things I could recount, if I had all day. Let me just say that you delight and amaze us every day. Whether you’re locking me out of the house when I take out the trash (no worries; I had my keys with me!), or obsessively turning on the oven light every time you pass by the kitchen, or taking all of your toys into the bathroom when you potty, or hugging and kissing us at random throughout the day, or making mischievous (kópé!) faces with your eyes looking off to the side just to make us laugh, or singing at the top of your lungs when you watch your shows, when you bathe, or just about anytime, using anything you can get your hands on to pretend it’s your microphone, one thing is certain: you make our lives brighter with your presence. We thank God for you every day. We love you more today than we did the day you were born. We're so blessed that you are part of our family. Happy birthday, Cakes!!

Love,

Mama (Mommy, Mummy, MOM) and Daddy (Dada, DAD)

23 months: Budding Storyteller, Anthropomorphized Rocks, Babying a Gloworm, and Language Explosion!!!

You turned 23-months-old a few days ago. And with that, this is the last month you will be a one-year-old. I hope you enjoy and take advantage of this last vestige of babyhood.

This month, you have begun to show signs of being a little storyteller. One day, I was opening the door to let my friend out, when (unknown to me), a big gray cat waltzed right into our house. My friend says, you know what just came in? (I'm thinking: a fly, a moth...) A CAT! I looked and sure enough, there was a cat in my house! Amidst much yelling of "Oh, my gosh!" the cat made it halfway down the hallway, glanced into the bathroom to the right, and realizing THIS WAS NOT HIS HOUSE, turned around and with a little cajoling, sped back out the front door. This was a good story in itself, but what made it very memorable for everyone was that you started acting out this scenario. Over and over, you re-enacted what happened with the cat.

You would be the cat: you would walk flippantly into the house, making your way from the front door to the bathroom, then you'd stop with a start, look into the bathroom, pointing and loudly exclaiming: UH-OH!! Then, with a sudden twist of your heel, you'd turn around and scurry back to the front door.

First story told. Many more to come.

We've been spending a lot of time out in the backyard lately, where you have found new entertainment in some rocks. You like to collect these and drop them one by one into an old flower pot. Sometimes you bring these rocks inside, and so one day you had one in your hand as you were starting to make your way upstairs. You handed it to me, and I, thinking you were done with it, tossed it away. You flipped out and yelled "kő!!!" (rock!) and took off after it. This attachment to the rock reminded me of Tom Hanks' attachment to his volleyball in Cast Away. You acted just like him from that scene where he threw away his anthropomorphized volleyball, then desperately screamed "Wilson!!!" and ran to retrieve his best friend.

You are growing and advancing in many amazing ways, one of which is your great language explosion this month. This is very exciting, to hear you talking so much, trying to say everything, and it is so endearing to hear you communicate - in two languages, no less!!

You have been learning your numbers (you can count to 5) and your letters, too (one of your favorite activities with your father is writing words with magnets on the refrigerator). You already recognize several of the words.

This month, we baked chocolate chip cookies together for the first time. They were a big hit. I also offered you some milk to go along with it. When I told you we were having milky with the cookies, you thought that you were going to nurse. When I said, no, this was "Moo Milky" (Bú tejcsi), your eyes widened in incredulity. YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING, they said. That I would suggest such a thing! I could hear your wheels turning: I know about cows in the fields, but I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF DRINKING THEIR MILKY! You mean to tell me that we go out into the field and suckle from a cow?!?

Well... umm, yes. Yes, we do. :)

(Except it's not quite as disgusting as that. It's been made more convenient for us, so we don't actually have to suckle. It is sucked out for us and sold in hygienic paper cartons.)

You'll soon find out that there are many strange things we do as a society, actually. And now, as you are nearing the ripe age of two years, I thought that I should slowly start breaking the news of these things to you. Therefore, this month, you get to digest this peculiar custom of how we take the baby cow's milk from its mother, so we can drink it ourselves. Because we obviously need it more than the baby calves.

Why don't we do the same with the milk of horses, the milk of pigs, or the milk of hippopotamuses, you ask? Don't ask me. I didn't make the rules.

(Possibly, because our society has decided that THE COW IS THE CLEANEST of them all? Or maybe because the other animals were less docile and DEFENDED THEIR MILK MORE FIERCELY when we tried to take it from them? Or could it be because the other animals don't have organizations, like the American Dairy Association, vying for their milk?)

Joking aside, all my cajoling could not get you to enjoy your "Moo Milky." After a few tentative sips, you decided that you had had enough of the "yummy moo milky." Each subsequent attempt thereafter met with a firm headshake of NO. It must be said that you are a child who doesn't refuse any foods, whatsoever, so this was a surprise to me. But I don't really blame you for rejecting the milk of another species. After all, it is an anomaly of nature for one species to drink another's milk. In our culture, this is acceptable, but you are not yet familiar with our culture. Congratulations for already showing signs of being an independent thinker!

This month was marked by an election that I'm sorry to say, turned out disappointingly for us - disappointingly for the sanctity of life; disappointingly for the free market and capitalism; disappointingly for the Constitution; and disappointingly for freedom in general. The mantra of this man was "Change" and "Hope" and we've learned that you can dupe a whole heck of a lot of people just by chanting these two words.

These are nice words, but I want you, Caleb, to always look for substance behind words. "Yes we can!" means nothing when it promotes an ideology that has failed throughout history. (A more fitting slogan would be: "But why would we want to?") Before believing in a clever slogan, I want you to examine the facts and promises behind it, to dig a little deeper, and even search out information that goes unreported, because more often than not in this world, you need to do independent research to have all of the relevant information at hand. This is crucial for being able to make a truly informed decision - in all matters of life.

Your father and I pledge to do our best to provide you with the skills and knowledge necessary to put learned information into the context of world history, philosophy, economy, and especially the Word of God, so you are able to analyze information and to think critically. (For this, you will have unlimited access to one of the best debaters and critical thinkers - your father.) We want more for you, Caleb, and we promise you: we will not allow you to become the victim of a dumbed-down, socialist-controlled public education.

A week ago, I observed you tenderly playing with your Gloworm, an infant toy that hasn't been much noticed by you before. When I peeked in to check on you, you had the Gloworm laying on the armchair and you were standing in front of it, softly talking to it, saying "baby, baby, baby, baby" over and over. You were also kissing it over and over and smiling at it really sweetly. I thought that this was so precious. Later, you shared your cheese and water with your baby. You continued to kiss it repeatedly and carried it around with you for about 45 minutes.

We also visited my friend this month, and you got to play with her 15-month-old baby, Joshua. I have noticed this before, but had no occasion to share it until now, that you are THE MOST GENTLE LITTLE BOY WITH BABIES I've ever seen. You are in awe of them, and when they come near you, your face takes on an expression of wonder, as you reach out in the gentlest way, barely touching them with your hand, patting them on their face, their tummy, their back, their hand, anywhere you can. You love babies! I have seen this sweet approach from you ever since you were 7 months old, when you first put your arm around a baby your age. Since then, every time kids come to play next to you at Barnes & Noble, or if little ones come in your vicinity anywhere, you reach out ever so gently, with the tentative whisper of a touch, sometimes not even noticed by the kids themselves, but noticed by your ever-watchful Mama. I have seen you react like this even with children much older than you, who don't really know what to make of your hand gently coming to rest on their shoulder. (My heart melts every time.)

It is wonderful, this precious way of yours. The affection you show towards little ones without reservation, through the reach of your gentlest little hands - all this and more, tells me that you are going to be a wonderful big brother.


Love,
Mama

22 months: Teaching the Pig to Potty, Helping Mama Around the House, and Proactively Taking our Hand

You are 22 months old today. I cannot believe that you are two months away from your second birthday! This time of year is so much fun, but it also flies by very quickly. Things start to speed up around Halloween, then Thanksgiving rushes past and before we know it, Christmas (and your birthday) is here. I had better start planning your birthday party now, if there is to be one! We'll have to see how busy everyone is in early or mid-December.

It is so much fun these days to watch you play. Yesterday I observed you singing to yourself as you played with your tractor, pulling it along and stopping every so often to “feed” its passengers (the pig, the cow, the horse, the lamb, and the farmer) with your slice of cheese. I think you favor the horse, because you perpetually choose the horse as the driver of the tractor, relegating the farmer to one of the back seats.

Later, when you sat down on the potty (where the tractor and its passengers are required company), you let the pig see the “kaka” in the potty by lifting him up and tilting his head as to show him the contents. (I’m sure the pig will appreciate this lesson.) When I came back a couple of minutes later to check on you, the tractor was empty of all its passengers and the pig, cow, horse, lamb, and farmer had all joined you on the potty, where they were sitting lined up between your legs, apparently taking a private lesson. Now that you have mastered the potty experience, you are very correct in assuming that you need to start practicing teaching this skill to others. The pig, cow, horse, lamb, and farmer are as good pupils as any. It is very smart of you to sharpen your teaching skills now, for in the future, you are fully expected to pass on everything that I have taught you to any prospective younger siblings.

You love it when I can join you in your play, and in the past couple of weeks, you’ve begun to extend the invitation to play by taking my finger, and daddy’s too, and gently pulling us into the living room. And this coming on the heels of my comments last month about how you absolutely refused to hold anyone’s hand! You might have a sixth sense, or something, to know that I charged you in front of the whole world for not holding my hand during a few isolated incidents, when you didn’t feel like being constrained. And you may have thought that this was incredibly unfair. You may have resolved: “I’ll show her! I can hold a hand! In fact, I can initiate holding a hand!” Yes, yes - you can. This new finger-grabbing habit of yours is very effective, as it really tugs at our hearts.

You make the best faces. You are a total ham, an excellent little clown, and I hope that I had something to do with that by demonstrating to you for the past 22 months what a ham/clown looks like. (Though, I must give your father some credit too; he is also pretty good at being a ham and a clown.) Your clown faces range from the exaggerated surprised face, to the oooooh funny face, which entertained all of your Hungarian relatives a few weeks ago, to a large variety of exaggerated happy faces. Whether you are making a goofy face to make everyone laugh or truly reacting to something, your face mirroring your emotions, you are sure fun to watch.

This month, you have begun to take your clothes off. This is a great first step to being able to go potty on your own. I have happy imaginings of this. You are not yet fast enough, but we’re working on it. The problem is, you can take your pants OFF, but you don’t yet know how to put them back ON. Also, you like to take them off randomly, even when you don’t have to go potty. And once you’ve managed to wiggle out of them, you really just like to run around naked. This might be fine if we lived in the jungles of Africa, where both the weather and cultural norms would allow children this type of behavior. But this is not Africa and the October weather here is not conducive to your parading around in your birthday suit. I’m sorry to disappoint, but we’re going to have to put those pants back on.

One thing about this, though: I know that it could be so much worse than just your taking off clean pants/underwear and running around, free like a gazelle. Children about your age everywhere love to be free of their clothing, and those who are still in diapers want nothing more than to be free of those. I have heard of children your age taking off their soiled diapers and going to town with the contents. (Heard? Ha! I must painfully remind myself that not only have I heard of this, I actually LIVED THIS EXPERIENCE with 18-month-old twin boys, whom I used to baby-sit as a teen. Let me tell you, finding Mikey and Frankie in their cribs after their nap with their diapers off and the contents smeared everywhere wasn’t a pretty sight.) Am I glad that – thanks to early potty training – you will NEVER surprise me this way! Your free gazelle-like tendencies don’t sound so bad now, do they, when put in that context.

You continue to love everything on wheels. Cars, trucks, tractors, trolleys, wagons – these are your toys and the subject of your conversations these days.

You have also been especially fascinated with bicycles this month. You go wild every time you see one. You had the chance to try a tricycle at the store (your feet almost reach) and you also tried to push along your friend’s bicycle on the trail one day. You’ll be glad to know that your father and I have discussed your need for some wheels and you should be getting a tricycle or maybe even two in the near future.

You are Mama’s little helper. Whether you’re helping to bring the groceries into the house, carrying your own plastic bag, or helping me with dinner, dropping each baby potato into the pot of cold water, or throwing away some garbage (or perceived garbage), you love to help. You’ve even begun to take over some of the bug-catching activity in the house. When you see what looks like a bug to you, you don’t wait for me anymore. You take action, running to get a piece of toilet paper, then running back to the scene with a long trail of toilet paper behind you, and when you’ve gathered up your “bug,” you hurry back to the bathroom to throw it away. You haven’t yet caught any actual bugs, but I don’t want to discourage this helpfulness, so I pretend and applaud your efforts. When you are done, you make sure that the long string of toilet paper also gets tossed into the toilet, struggling with it until every bit of it is in there.

I have designated one of the lower kitchen cabinets with pots and pans that you are allowed to play with. You love going into that cabinet, arranging and rearranging its contents until they fit perfectly. If the cabinet door doesn’t close right, you work at it some more until you get it right. You also play with the squash and the potatoes, which you like to move from one pot to another. This generally occupies you while I cook and also keeps you within view. Again, at the end of this activity, you voluntarily put away everything in its place. I don’t need to say a thing.

Regret, it seems, is a mother’s portion. No matter how much she might do right through the course of the day, in the still of the night, she will inevitably remember those things that she didn’t do so well.

It was one of those days today. Clients pulling at me from every which way, responses needed NOW, and on top of all that, a million things to do for our upcoming trip tomorrow. You wanted my attention at times today when I just couldn’t give it. Tonight, as you snuggled close to me and contentedly drifted off to sleep, my heart ached that I wasn’t more attentive, more patient with you today. It didn’t help that there had been great moments, as in the above and below photos, taken this afternoon, when we finally played in the fallen leaves, chasing each other and enjoying our time together. It didn’t erase those other moments when I know I could have done better.

Caleb, I can’t promise to always do things perfectly. I am not perfect. But I resolve to learn from days like today and do better the next day, and the next day, and the next...
Tomorrow will be a great day.

Love,
Mama

20 months: Kisses and Hugs, Toddler Escapades, Car! Car! Car!, and Let There Be Order

You turned 20 months old a few days ago. Your Mama was swamped with work and didn’t get a chance to write your letter on time for your celebrated day. She also didn’t have the time to take notes this month that she can refer to when the time comes to touch on some of the great happenings of the previous month. Therefore when she finally sits down to write something heartfelt or witty about your life, to capture fleeting moments that if left unrecorded, might permanently pass from memory, when she sits down to do this, she must rack her sleepy, work-frazzled brain in order to remember to capture the moments that should, by no means, be left uncaptured.

For there were many beautiful moments, she knows, for sure this month.

And it is just now starting to come to her that she should definitely mention how this month you have been over the top with your kisses and hugs. That you will come up to her at random and say “pu,” (the beginning of the word for kiss in Hungarian), and you will plant a kiss right on her lips, but you will not be satisfied with just one, no, no, no – you will keep coming back for two, three, four, five kisses, all the while repeating the word “pu”! It is true that sometimes you dole out kisses when you want something, like early in the morning when you are snuggled next to Mama and you want to awaken her to nurse and you do this by leaning over and gently kissing her on the lips.

This moment, your Mama can’t even articulate to you how ABSOLUTELY SWEET IT IS.

A lot of the time though, there is nothing you want, but the kiss itself. All day long, you come up, stick your face up saying “pu” and with your mouth open, press your lips to the vicinity of mine. Your face is serious, as you concentrate on this task. This kissing thing is serious business!

Your hugs are just as charming. You come up to us with no other purpose, but to hug us or pat us. How your Daddy loves this! You don’t kiss him as much, because of the roughness of his face, but do you ever hug! You also fling your arm around our necks and hold on as we carry you, returning our hugs and wrapping your legs tightly around us as we hold you. You must know, we LOVE all of this and we will never grow tired of your hugs and kisses.

Cars are now your coveted Number One Toy, replacing the dinosaur, the Lego, and even the Pink Flower, and you seem to be carrying a car around everywhere you go. It is the first thing you look for in the morning and the last thing you think of when you’re falling asleep, crying out one last time “Car!” as you drift off to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, you sit straight up and the first word that you utter is: “Car, car, car!” Each and every morning, whether it is the moment your sleepy eyes open, or a minute later when you are climbing down the stairs (on your own, by the way!), your first words are about your treasured cars. In repeating the word, I think you’re trying to define plural. “Car” is also the collective word for all kinds of vehicles: cars, trucks, fire engines, trains, wagons and tractors. To satiate your interest in cars, we have gone on many Car Adventures this past month. You’ve been to the Fire Station to see fire trucks, you sat on a tractor at the children’s museum and at a farm, rode the semi truck at the mall, and we’ve made many trips to Barnes & Noble to play with your new favorite: the trains.

One of the most delightful surprises of this month happened when your Mama discovered that you are now able to play with the wooden trains independently for a long period of time while she sits and reads a book (as opposed to having to supervise you close up, because you chew everything). This change happened in a mere three weeks’ time. Needless to say, we now make regular trips to Barnes and Noble – so you can play and I can read.

There are other things too, that all of a sudden, you can do. For example, you have figured out how to pick up more than one thing with a single hand. The other day after dinner, your dad and I marveled at how you grabbed one object as you stuck out your index finger to wrap it around the second object and voila, there you were carrying two things in one hand. Congratulations, you’ve saved yourself a second trip! Another new skill, which was a bit less amusing, was when we found out that you now know how to lock doors. One morning, I was giving you some private time in the bathroom (sometimes you like to go without distractions; by the way, you’re totally potty-trained) – and you locked yourself in. Luckily, Daddy was home and was able to save you after a few minutes of working the lock. All I have to say is: don’t do that again.


And as the month progressed, the escapades continued. You climbed the stairs one day, without my knowledge. I was doing dishes and I noticed a couple of minutes later that I didn’t hear you playing in the other room anymore and it was very quiet. MOTHERS EVERYWHERE KNOW THAT QUIET IS NOT GOOD. It isn’t good especially when the child is loose in the house. (As opposed to when they are safely tied down to a chair, a crib, or a table... whatever one’s preferred child-constraining method may be.) :) I started searching for you, calling your name, and what do I hear, if not a singy-song voice coming from upstairs??!

We had been more lax with the gate, because you stopped trying to climb the stairs. Day after day, we (OKAY, I) would take the gate away from the bottom of the stairway, and you seemed to understand that it meant that you should behave just as if it was still there. (I was trying to stretch your boundaries.) But now, I realize that you were actually just waiting for the perfect timing – a lapse in Mama’s attention.

Nobody has ever climbed stairs faster than I at that very moment, as a dozen things you could be getting into was running through my head, and sprinting into our bedroom, what do I find? Smiley you, standing next to the bassinet, singing and playing with the bears that hang from the top. (Yes, your old bassinet is still there. You enjoy it periodically, asking to sit in there, push the music/light buttons, sing and rock yourself. You never did enjoy it as a newborn, so I’m thinking, why not get our money’s worth now, you know?) You came to me right away and as I picked you up and explained that I was worried, because I didn’t know where you were, and that you know you’re not allowed to come upstairs by yourself... you started to pat my back, as if to comfort me: “It’s okay, Mama. I’m okay, see?”

This month has brought bruised and scraped knees, splinters in your feet and bloody lips as some of the natural consequences of your exploits. You hurl yourself off high structures at high speeds. If we’re there to catch you, you tumble into our arms with giggles. AND IF WE’RE NOT THERE TO CATCH YOU, THAT’S OKAY TOO. You don’t seem to care. One of your favorite activities is crossing the distance between the armchair and the ottoman, jumping over the space as we look on in horror. Another one: STEPPING OFF the couch. At the park, you enjoy the bleachers and run back and forth on them. You run at breakneck speed wherever you can.

It is amazing to me how you so fully understand both the English and the Hungarian language. How did that happen? You also like to string words together into sentences. When you want to communicate a lengthy thought, you speak a string of unintelligible words, always with the correct inflection, the correct hand gesture, and the correct facial expression. It’s the cutest thing. Like when there’s a loud noise and you give me your questioning hands and raised eyebrows as you ask “Whaatadoo balagado youlada?” And I answer, as if I fully understood, “Yeah, that was a loud sound, but nothing to worry about, you can go back to playing now.” Or when you can’t quite fit your toy telephone up on the windowsill and you look up at me inquiring: “Mama, dobada youbabaya veedababoo?” Which I totally understand to mean, “Mama, can you help me fit this telephone, so I can roll it back and forth on the windowsill?” We talk this way all day long. Of course, you say many actual words and phrases too, in fact too many to count, in both English and Hungarian. But it is these gibberish sentences that I find so charming. You are not content with a mere word or phrase, but understand that you should be stringing together a bunch of words and phrases. Thus, you mimic the flow of actual conversation.



It has become apparent in the last few months that you love order. You got this from your Mama. It BOTHERS YOU to see something out of order, and you try to return the thing that is amiss to its proper condition. For example, during our walk the other day, when Daddy pushed the empty stroller the WRONG WAY (with front wheels up in the air), you ran back to him and scolded him about this: “Ku mama babyouvadoo!” (That’s the wrong way of pushing that stroller!), and would not let up your finger-pointing protest until he acquiesced. Thank you. You see, your Mama also noticed this wrong way of handling the stroller, and was similarly bothered by it, but was debating whether to mention it. You have made your Mama’s life easier by being the one to speak up. I can just smile, shrug my shoulders, and say: “It bothers THE CHILD.”

When things fall down, you respond with an “Oh-oh!” and pick them up. When you are done with your shoes, they need to go back in the right place. When you are finished with your blocks, you spend long minutes neatly stacking them back in their box. When I turn one of the lamps on/off in the living room, they all must be turned on/off in order. When we are ready to eat, you run to your booster seat at the table, but if the TV happens to be on, you must run back into the living room first to turn it off. When I place your plate of food before you, if I’ve forgotten to give you a fork, you loudly call for your “lla!” (villa – fork) and when you are finished eating, you carefully hand me your plate, your lla, and your water cup. If you notice that your hands are messy from eating (or anything else), you request that they be cleaned. Neatness and order, that’s your cup of tea.


As I’ve been working a lot on the computer, you’ve taken to imitating me by climbing up on the other computer chair, typing with the other keyboard, and using the other mouse (with the computer turned off). You’ll get up there several times a day and start typing away, like you see me doing. As I look across the room, I can see that you imitate me really well, occasionally using the mouse along with the keyboard. I am thankful that you now engage in independent play more, as it has allowed me to get my translation work done while you play beside me.

However, there are times when you are more needy, and at these times, you ask to be picked up over and over, sometimes every 2 minutes. Needless to say, I cannot get any work done this way. At these times, you often hear: “Not now, sweetie, Mama’s working.” But you are remarkably persistent and keep coming back and surely enough, your dogged perseverance always pays off in the end. In the end, I always give in, put off the work, and give you my attention.

This scenario reminded me of that Scripture, where God says that those who are tireless in seeking Him, those who keep knocking relentlessly at heaven’s door and hoping for an affirmative answer, get their requests answered.

(An interesting line of reflection is why this is:
Faith in action, changing the very nature of things?
God’s reward for our fervent diligence, which demonstrates that we are serious about seeking Him?
A God-given ability of ours, the created beings, to change the mind of the Creator?)

I find that this is one of the most remarkable aspects of parenting: not only do we teach you, but you also teach us – or more precisely, God teaches us through you.

Love,
Mama

Mama's Sick, Baby's Sad

Yesterday, I was sick with a bad food poisoning (rare this is, for I haven't had one in over 10 years!). There was lots of throwing up and whatnot. I will spare you the gory details. The only reason I think this is worth mentioning is to note Caleb's reaction to it.

The poor child. He didn't know what was wrong with Mama, only that I was not my usual jolly self. I was laying down all day and barely paying attention to him. Thankfully, Daddy was around to take care of him, yet he was obviously disturbed by my absence. (I tried to be in the same room, so I was present in person, but very absent in spirit.) It was remarkable, how this affected Caleb. He was so cranky all day, wailing loudly at the littlest things. All he wanted was his mommy. At times, I tried to lay down on the floor next to him, to comfort him, and he would scoot himself all the way up to me, trying to get close to me, to comfort me. He knew that something was wrong with me, and not only did he miss me, but it made him sad.

We slept a 12-hour dead men's sleep last night. This morning, all is well. Mama and thus Caleb are back to their cheerful selves. I was feeding him this morning and he kept hugging me, then patting me, as if to say, "Good, you're back!" What a sweet child.

Letter from Caleb

Hi Everyone! This is Caleb! Mama's hard at work on a project right now, so I decided to write myself! (Someone needs to keep this Blog going!)

I wanted to tell everyone what a great Christmas I had! This was in reality the 2nd Christmas of my young life, but since the 1st one was spent at the Hospital, I am not counting it. Besides, I am pretty sure that I slept right through that one, cause I DON'T REMEMBER A THING!

I have learnt a thing or two about Christmas this year. I now know that you have to travel long hours to get there. While you are traveling to Christmas, you listen to Christmas carols in the car. Loudly. And if you know the words, you can sing along. (Though Mama pays no heed to that rule. If she doesn't know the words, she just makes them up!)

When you arrive at Christmas, everyone will kiss you, hug you, and generally be very glad to see you. You will wonder what you did to get all this attention.

When you go inside, you marvel at the sight: a Christmas tree in every room! You now realize that all that traveling was surely worth it, for Christmas sure is beautiful! There are lights and decorations as far as the eye can see. Snowmen, Santas, carolers, and elves are tucked in every corner. And wait till you see the shiny gifts under the tree! (Later you find out that they are so much fun to shake and bang while everyone is gathered for a Christmas Eve party!)

Christmas Eve is also my birthday. I am one of the few people, whose birthday EVERYONE celebrates!
When Christmas Eve is also your birthday, you get to stay up really late to make the day as long as possible. I managed it until about 11! Can you believe it? When I began bursting into tears at the slightest things (like plopping on my butt), Mama said: "It's time."

When you wake up in the morning, Christmas is still there. Or should I say, the real fun is just beginning - for now you get to OPEN and PLAY with all the toys under the tree! And Christmas dinner is VERY YUMMY!! (How did Grandmom know that I love steak? And potatoes, and carrots, and peas too?) After dinner you get a birthday cake and a Happy Song is sung - just for you! And then, there are more presents! You feel like it's the 12 days of Christmas! All wrapped up into one day!

So, this is Christmas

Thank you everyone for making this Christmas a Christmas to remember!

Splish, splash he was taking a bath

I emerge from the upstairs bathroom looking like a wet duck. My hair is dripping, my makeup is ruined, and water is running down my arms and legs. I fling the wet hair out of my eyes and carry Little Duckling on my arm: a soft bundle of squeaky-cleanness, sporting a fresh face with eyelashes still dripping. His hair smells of Johnson & Johnson bubbles. A smile of contentment rests on his lips as if he had just done a job, and done it well. Why the smile? He just finished BATHING in the BIG TUB. And no, I did not bathe with him. Not this time. Although, looking down at my soppy clothes, I now wish I had.

This bath in the big tub in no way resembled the peaceful, quiet bath time we had shared during Caleb’s early months - back when he was using the baby tub and was a bit apprehensive of the water.

All apprehension officially flew out the window with this bath. I watched him splish and splash, and splish and splash some more. The child’s left arm never did stop. With forceful, sweeping motions, he repeatedly dropped his arm into the water about a hundred times a minute. Not that I had time to count. The right arm did not rest either: it joined in on the fun with almost the same forcefulness as the left. Did water get in his eyes (and nose and mouth)? Oh, yes! Did he seem to care? Not one bit.

I guess, in the past few weeks, he has gotten very familiar with water. He’s been in a lake; he’s been in a pool. He has taken big bathtub baths with Mommy and has even taken showers with each of us. He figures, he KNOWS WATER.

(And while he was thinking he knew water, I did all I could to steady him, and foil his attempts at plunging headfirst INTO the water.)

So... you wonder where the pictures are. My friend, if you had seen what went on in there, you wouldn’t be asking me about the pictures.

Washed out Lake Day

We were supposed to have a Lake Day today.
It was to be Caleb’s first time at the beach.
Everyone was excited. Mom was ready. Dad was ready.

The BabyCakes was ready!!!

It was not to be. Yes, we knew that we were taking a chance when they said: “isolated thunderstorms late in the afternoon.”
But the sky looked beautiful when we left the house.
Not so when we were nearing the lake.
For once, the meteorologists were right: we had an isolated thunderstorm.

It was isolated right over our beach.

With beautiful weather on the way there and back.
So he got to SEE the lake, but didn't get to go in.
We are sorry. We will try again soon!

P.S. Does anyone know how to fold this thing?

My day today

Hi! This is Caleb! (Otherwise known as Calebke, Milk Mouth, Little Precious, and a dozen other nicknames, but most commonly called by Mom and Dad: BabyCakes.)

Side note: if by and by you ask me my name and I seem confused, you know who to blame! Right. NOT ME!

So. I thought it would be fun to tell you all about my day today. It was an ordinary day, nothing spectacular; so don’t expect tales of adventure this time. Yet it was special to me all the same, because BOTH Mommy and Daddy spent the whole day with me! NOONE had to work today, you see! [Mom’s Note: At least not for long.]

So, when I woke up this morning, I looked for Mommy, ‘cause I was hungry. Sure enough, I found her pretty quickly (I’m quite good at this by now – hey, I wasn’t born YESTERDAY! I’ve been practicing for 5 months already!), and filled my tummy with yummy milky. So then, Mommy thought I had enough (though, I always say, enough is RELATIVE – but who ever listens to a 5 month old!), and we went downstairs to the office. Oh yeah, NOW I remember! She DID work a little! So, she did that and I got to bounce in my bouncy. Did she mention that I can now hold my foot? Yeah! I held my right foot and kicked like crazy with the left. I LOVE to kick with my left foot! It’s sooooo fun! Daddy thinks that I’m going to be left handed, like he is. I hope so! Just to please him!

So, let me get back. I bounced and bounced, then told Mommy I wanted more milky and she gave me some more. Then, Daddy woke up and came downstairs and we all giggled and laughed a little and Daddy held me and said some nice things to me. (I was soooooo surprised to see him, because he’s always at work in the morning. But NOT THIS TIME!!!)

Then, Mommy finished up whatever she was doing (I think it was important, because she looked so CONCENTRATED! – I know that’s a big word for a little boy). And then Daddy said, let’s go for a hike! We got ready and off we went. But the two of them were hungry and we stopped by this really interesting place called Given’s Bookstore, where they had all kinds of things! I mean, ALL KINDS! Toys and books and even a real live bunny! And there, Mom and Dad EATED... oops, I mean, ATE. (I’ve been watching them do that EATING thing now for... oh... 3 months? And I tell you, it looks like FUN! Mommy cheated 3 times and let me do it too, but then we had to stop, because they say you have to be 6 months old to EAT. Until then, you only get milky. I like milky, don’t get me wrong. But I’m REALLY looking forward to my 6 month birthday! Mommy promised me that she would let me EAT then.)

So we finished there and I was getting sleepy, but I FIGHTED IT big time, because let’s face it, going places doesn’t happen all that often. And going places with BOTH Mommy and Daddy happens even less. So, I FIGHTED IT.

We got to the trail and they strapped me onto Daddy in the Baby Björn and we did my favorite thing: we walked. Outside. With “birds singing, a breeze blowing, and the scent of honeysuckle in the air.” (I’m quoting Mommy.) At least, she THINKS it was honeysuckle. Whatever it was, it was nice. And I liked it. And I liked it so much that I relaxed and FELL ASLEEP!

Don’t ask me how long I was asleep, but when I awoke, we were STILL walking. Mommy and Daddy were talking about some fun plans for the summer at a place called HUNGARY. And they said it was nice there. And that we were gonna go. And that I am now a WORLD TRAVELER. Or going to be, anyways.

And THAT made me feel good.

Afterwards, we came home and I was in such a GOOD MOOD that I totally forgot that I was now hungry again. So Mommy didn’t even ASK me, she just left and “ran to the store.” And I had Daddy all to myself. FOR 30 MINUTES.

When Mommy got back, I really couldn’t wait any longer and I let her know real quickly that I REALLY needed some sustenance (5 month olds DO have a limit, you know!). I was so glad that she stopped to feed me and then she put me in the sling and WE started dinner. Something called SALMON ON THE GRILL. And there were other things: red things [red peppers], and brown things [baby Yukons], and white things [onions]. She said this was spur of the moment cooking. AND I. GOT TO. SEE IT. I also got to watch them do the EATING thing for the second time today!

And then, things started to become a blur. I remember that I really wanted her to pick me up. I did my whiny voice. I did my whimpering. Was I hungry? I don’t think so. Was I sleepy? Hmm... I don’t remember. Ask my Mommy. What do I know? I’m only 5 months old, you know!

[Mom’s Note: BabyCakes passed out around 8 o’clock from a full day’s activities and slept like a rock.]

[Here’s a video of the kicking thing he does with his left foot whenever he’s happy. Here he is also grabbing on to his right foot and singing.]

http://s209.photobucket.com/albums/bb34/Aranka777/?action=view&current=Singing.flv

A day in the life...

I decided to record the events of a 24-hour day at 7 weeks of age for anyone who might be interested in how our days are spent and also for comparison’s sake a few months from now, as surely the structure of our days will be changing as Caleb grows. The day begins at 12 am midnight, because he’s still feeding around the clock.

12:30 am: Caleb is unusually alert for this time of day. He has just been given his bottle of formula for the day (after acting like he was starving, even after nursing) and is wide-awake, smiling and making eye contact. I find myself abandoning the article I’m reading on the computer for some communication with my son.

1 am: I decide that it’s time to settle down and go to bed, since he is normally asleep by now and I don’t want to upset his (somewhat loose) routine. I am also getting sleepy. So I head upstairs with him wide-awake, realizing that this may take a while tonight! Ron is already sleeping, so I try to keep Caleb as quiet as possible.

1:10 am: We are lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. I am not having any trouble nodding off, that is, but my dear son keeps squirming and fighting sleep. I alternately try holding the pacifier and my pinkie in his mouth, scooping him up in the bed and rocking him.

1:30ish am: He finally falls asleep while I hold the pacifier in his mouth. I don’t remember this exactly, because I am asleep myself.

4:30-5:00ish am: He stirs and I let him breastfeed. We both pass out after a very short time.

5:40 am: I hear Ron saying bye as he leaves for work.

7:00 am: Caleb wakes up again, hungry (he didn’t have much the last time). I nurse him and we nod back to sleep.

8:00ish am: Caleb is nursing again, but is very restless (he gets like this every morning; it’s a combination of being hungry but also half-asleep, so he can’t nurse effectively). So I decide it’s time to end his wrestling and get up for a good feeding (although I’m still sleepy - this has not been a great night of sleep). I breastfeed in his room on the glider, where I have my books set up for some morning reading/quiet time.

8:30 am: We come downstairs, I make coffee and sit down to read e-mail/news at the computer. Caleb continues to alternately sleep/breastfeed. I respond to a job request and get the job. (It’s an interesting one, requiring me to research Hungarian geopolitical terms.) I start working on it.

10:30 am: I decide to put a sleeping Caleb in his bouncy seat so I can get some things done. However, he does not stay asleep, as I had hoped. So I turn on the TV and place him in front of it in his bouncy seat (I know this is horrible – my 7 week old watching TV - but lately he’s been mesmerized by it). A Baby Story is on and I’m hoping for a good 15 minutes of time. I get about 10 before he starts fussing, just enough to fix myself a breakfast of eggs and toast and sterilize the artificial nipples.

10:55 am: He seems very hungry as I sit down to eat my breakfast and we eat together. He nurses vigorously. I answer some e-mails and do some work. I’ve made the mistake of not getting myself something to drink. Now I’m stuck. After nursing for almost an hour, he falls asleep.

12:00 pm: I carry him upstairs and decide to try laying him down in his crib while I shower. For the first time ever, he naps in his crib (so far, he’s only had a couple of “crib training” sessions of about 5-10 minutes when I’d put him in there awake, with me in the room, to get him used to the space). I run to get a shower and check on him. He’s still asleep. I throw in a load of laundry, and then check on him. He’s still asleep. I sort and put away a load of laundry. He’s still asleep! I get bold. I start cleaning his room, organizing his closet, bringing in the mail. I get ready to break out our baby monitor when I hear him waking. Oh well, I had a good run. :)

1:05 pm: We come downstairs and Caleb breastfeeds. I notice his nails are really long again. However, I do not have the baby nail clippers nearby, so cutting them will have to wait.

1:24 pm: He’s finished. I put him in the sling and we go out for a walk around the neighborhood. On the way back, I see our neighbor who’s just had a baby girl and congratulate them on their baby. They do the same.

2:01 pm: We get home. He is asleep in the sling. I make myself a quick lunch and sit down to eat.

2:20 pm: Caleb awakens and wants to nurse. He nurses for 20 minutes.

2:40 pm: Playtime with mommy (Caleb imitates my facial expressions, listens to me sing, and smiles a lot), tummy time for exercising his neck and arm muscles, and bouncy seat time, where he occupies himself for about 20 minutes (he’s been enjoying his bouncy seat in the past week; I think he has finally grown into it).

4:20 pm: Breastfeeds for an hour, falling asleep at the end. He awakens after 30 minutes. We watch some TV and I check my end of the workday e-mails, responding to anything pertinent.

6:30ish: Ron gets home from work. We sit and talk for a while and decide on what we want to cook for dinner. Ron spends some time with an alert Caleb.

7:30ish: Ron runs to the store while I give Caleb his bottle of formula as he lies in the sling while I do the dishes (talk about multitasking!).

8:15: Ron gets back from the store and starts cooking (Garlic-Parmesan Penne with Shrimp and Scallops). I nurse Caleb while reading a book.

8:45: Caleb and I join Ron in the kitchen, where we dance Caleb to sleep in the sling to the music of Sinatra. We call Ron’s parents and finish cooking dinner.

9:30ish: Ron and I sit down to eat our candlelit dinner. Caleb wakes up and finishes his bottle.

11:00ish: We finish our dinner and go to bed. Caleb is asleep.