Time to Potty?

I am quickly learning as a parent that one of the hardest things is the little momentous occasions that signify that your little baby is growing up. The walking and talking are things that you look forward to but the other things, like when they start saying "I do it" or "MINE" are the moments when as a parent you stop and realize that yes, they do grow up, and yes, it is faster than you thought it would happen.

Today was one of those moments. I was in the midst of crafting a request for proposal from our creative agency when my cell phone rang. Being in the groove I ignored it but as I wrapped up the proposal and sent it out I grabbed my phone and listened to the voicemail. It was Liz calling to tell me that H had just gone potty in the "big potty".

We just bought one of those seats that sits on a normal toilet seat this past weekend because H had started wanting to sit on the potty and "pretend". We have decided that we aren't going to push him, well, because when Sophia comes we expect that he might not be so willing to grow up.

So listening to that voicemail put a little shock to my system as I realized that this thing, this parenting thing, goes fast. Yes, he is still a little guy and of course it's not like he is asking me for the car keys, but it's just another one of those steps.

Maybe it wouldn't have hit me as hard if when we were getting him ready for bed tonight and he again wanted to go to the potty, as he sat there insisting "I pooping", he wouldn't have looked me square in the eye and said "I need book"

Say What?

"I really hope you don't go into labor in the middle of the night"

"Yeah, because you were really on your A game last time around"

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Waiting in line for breakfast on Mother's Day, see a man with a beard - pointing furiously "Santa, Santa"

Sitting in the car seat "SIGH...Mommy do that"

As pajama shirt comes off "I'M NAKED BABY"

"I see Phia's Room"

"I fix Drywall" during week of home renovation

"I need big Hugger"

"Yeah, Uh Hum"

"Riley..GET OUT"

The Harrison Dictionary

Hold You = Hold me

Hugger = I want a hug

Under = Thunder

Ding Dong - Ring the doorbell followed by "Woof Woof" = What Riley does when the doorbell rings

Squirter = Anything that sprays water

Candle = Holding the handles in his car seat

Driver, beep beep = Wheels on the bus song

Puff, Dragon = Puff the Magic Dragon

Digger = Truck/Backhoe digger

Timber = Fall on daddy/mommy/pillows

This I Believe

NPR recently ended their "This I Believe" series so in honor of that I thought I would do my own little family edition.

I believe in the power of kids. I believe that they are here to teach us adults to laugh at ourselves. That the beauty of this crazy mess is in the simple moments.

I believe that a child's love is the purest love you will ever see. They don't want your money they simply want your time and your hugs...and in Harrison's case your phone :)

I believe that when a child is learning to talk you best watch your words as carefully as if your grandmother were in the room...even more so!

I believe that after 5 hours of airline delays the airlines should be forced to sit in a 3x3 seat with your child for the remainder of the ride. I also believe that when your child stands up as people are waiting to get off the plane and says
"PEOPLE OFF - PLANE" he is only saying what we are all thinking.

I believe that when you promise your child blueberry pancakes you will find him waiting in his chair trying to buckle himself in while you are getting ready.

I believe that when a I see H sitting pretending to read a book a little piece of my heart melts...and a little piece of me wishes he would stay this way forever.

I believe that a second child scares the hell out of me...and excites me at the same time.

I believe that if I had the money I would have 6 of these little crazy creatures...and probably drive us all crazy!

Random Photos

Updated: Some random shots of our really cool fort and H trying on some of his new summer duds!

Inside All of Us There is Adventure...

Not sure why this made me emotional when I watched it today, maybe because I've always wanted to be in some make-believe land, running with the Wild Things, sailing on ships, and living an adventure? I only wish H was a little older so we could watch it together.

Parental Moments

You know it's time to get toilet locks when you hear your son saying, "cup, water, fill", and hear a "ker - plunk"

What is the proper reaction when you are taking a family stroll and the dog stops to lift his leg and your son follows him and tries to lift his leg over the very same rock? We just laughed

How many times can a child answer "no" to "do you want something to eat?" And truly not be hungry?

If your child is "squirting" you with a bathrobe strap because he pretends it's a hose, is it wrong to move after 5 minutes of being "sprayed" so as if not to get anymore "water on you"?

After how many weeks do you break it to your son that the "lotion" is deodorant, and it goes on your armpits and not on your legs?

Princesses, Butterflies and Roses

As a a father to a little boy who at the ripe age of 21 months is requesting to watch "gemes" and often wakes up by saying "hockey, hockey, hockey" or "Per-Doo" (Purdue), it is hard for me to imagine that life will not always evolve around trucks, sports, and games.

It is exciting and scary at the same time knowing that we are going to be having a little girl. That my world, our world, will now include pink, princesses, ponies, butterflies, and flowers.

I am not scared because I don't think that I can raise a girl, I am scared because, well, girls are different. They bring to the house a different aura,a different way of shaping the mood and the flow of the home, I know I lived with four of them!

But it is exciting. It has some similarities as it did with Harrison. Similar in that we have been down this path before, we know what to expect. But it is also alarmingly different. Different because well, I am not sure how yet, but I know it is.

I am a romantic, we both are really. Just as I had envisioned a life of having a catch with Harrison, teaching him the intricacy of a good snapshot, or how to throw a tight spiral, I have the same romantic ideas of having a little girl.

Watching her grow up in cute little dresses, teaching her how to fend off those "creepy boys". Having her brother be her protector, seeing her first prom, and yes, walking her down the aisle someday.

I can't help it, that is the stuff a father thinks about when he hears the news that it is going to be a girl. All of this may never come true, just as Harrison may never want to pick up a stick and skates, but it is the things that run through my head each time I think that we are having a girl!

It is exciting. It is scary. It is different. But we are ready. Ready to be blessed with another beautiful child who will be loved, and who will bring joy to our home, just as H did just a short 21 months ago.

A Grounding of the Ungrounded

So it's a Sunday afternoon. The wind outside is whipping and the temperature is dropping, not what one wants as March approaches but it is what it is. I have just returned from playing the role of super-dad...grocery shopping with my toddler.

H has done his normal cuteness duty, drawing out smiles from fellow shoppers and "he's so cute" from the cashier as she tries to entertain him with the circling plastic bag holder. I am feeling like super dad, not because grocery shopping is particularly difficult, but in my mind I am conquering worlds and negotiating peace treaties.

I get home, feeling proud that I have life, and son, so under control. He and I are sharing witty banter, singing along to Wilco, all as I unpack the groceries. As I start to prepare lunch, I happen to glance at myself in the mirror, Boston backwards cap, faded gray t-shirt with white long sleeve shirt, chinos, perfect suburban dad apparel. I am feeling it.

Lunch consists of a chicken patty with ketchup and bbq sauce, a cheese stick, and strawberries, the perfect lunch for a perfect duo. Feeling pretty good about my lot in life, I serve up my carefully crafted delicacy to the little angel waiting like a baby bird, mouth agape ready for nutrition.

As I continue to jam to the music, I start preparing lunch for myself as I casually glance at H eating his meal.

Then I notice something that doesn't look right. I saunter over and look down. I see a spot of bbq sauce on H's head, then another, then as if I am watching a movie I start to see the big picture.

I shout "No, No, NO," H's little cherubic face looks up at me, a bulls eye of sauce on his forehead. His fingers covered in sauce and his clothes splattered with sugary brown sweetness. He hasn't been eating, he has been splashing.

The kitchen looks like a horror movie, like Sweet Baby Ray was murdered in my home. I have seen enough CSI to know that there is a decent enough splatter pattern to solve this mystery in minutes.

I quickly race to grab paper towels and forget to take away the ammunition, as I turn to grab the paper towel, I feel it. I've been hit. I scramble to take away the rest of the sauce and look at the carnage.

White cupboards and Sweet Baby Rays is just the start. The floors are smeared, H's chair is covered better than a slab of ribs and the table looks like a chemistry experiment of Hunts, Baby Ray's and squashed Tyson's Chicken. There is even a splatter of sauce on the Kleenex box. Oye! I am on my hands and knees scrubbing up sauce and I hear Bob Dylan playing, I think aloud, "I bet Dylan never had to scrub his kitchen floor with Downey"

Yup, that is me, Mr Cool dad...back to reality...

Write to Remember

I have been bad about writing lately, I know, it's hard. Life seems to fly by and every time I think I want to post something, something new happens and I think - oh, I should write about that instead, then you go and do something cute and...it is just one long run-on sentence in my head. I can't stop life long enough to actually follow through and write everything I wish I could. So, let me make a list of the funny things that make us take pause everyday and thank god, or some higher being, that you are our son.

Things that make us laugh:

- You carry "lotion" around with you wherever you go. Unfortunately it is not lotion, it is a brand new stick of Right Guard deodorant, that has become "lotion"

- You pretend to rub the "lotion" on your legs and say "Lot-an" as you rub back and forth

- You sit in the back seat of the car and say "driver...beep, beep, beep" over and over because you are just figuring out to sing the Wheels on the Bus song

- You now have to have a collection of three monkeys, two doggies, one duck, one "phone", and one or two books, just to go to bed at night.

- And when we come to get you out of bed in the morning we find, three monkeys, two doggies...all on the floor, and you, with a look of disbelief on your face, that they are all out of your crib

- When I put you to bed you ask for me to sing - but if I don't sing the Birdy song the way mommy does, you say "No" and ask me to "Rock" instead of singing

- If you aren't carrying around your "lotion" you carry around a pocket calculator and pretend it's a phone. You sometimes have animated conversations and other times you insist that it be placed in your "pock - et" until, of course you need it out again to talk.

- You run to the TV after a nap or when I get home from work and yell "Geme" and want to watch Hockey or Basketball. Then you push me to the ground and yell "Timber" and want to jump on me

- You try to carry around mom's extra purses, but they are just as big as you are and you have to hold your arm above your head to have the loop stay on your arm

- You see a tennis ball and no matter what you say "Abbey" because that is what Pappa Roger and Grandma Lis's dog likes to play with

- You still can't hear the word Grandpa, and not say "Fire, Help" because you helped Grandpa K build fires over Christmas

The list could go on forever but these are some of the little things that make you who you are, and make your mom and dad fall into bed exhausted, but laughing each night.

An Evening with Rick

The benefits of DirectTV? You get XM Radio. The downfall? Rick Springfield with no commercial interruptions! H thought it was pretty fun though.

Stolen Moments

Lately I have started to find a pattern between your mother and me. It happens right after the chain is pulled and the fan starts whirling, the lights turn off and our "good nights" are said. I can hear us both punching pillows molding them to our preferred positions—our bodies searching for the familiar grooves in the mattress, which now that your mother is pregnant again, seem harder for her to find:). But as our bodies slowly melt into our familiar positions on our sides of the bed there is a moment of silence, each of us looking at sleep square in the eye wondering if it will come swiftly or if it will take its sweet time.

Then there is that moment—a huff or a roll, something alerting the other that it's not quite time yet. And then it happens. It usually starts with a funny moment in the day. Like how you demand that we "sit" when trying to get you out of bed. Or how now that you are in your hording stage, you "take" random things. Everything from the most inconspicuous item, a Nilla Wafer, to the most conspicuous, our dryer vent. It all ends up underneath your arm as you say "take." Usually moving from one point to another, gathering things and setting them down in what would appear to be arbitrary places. Moving to-and-fro with assembly line-like precision until your 19 month old curiosity kicks in and you find something else to distract you. Or we tell each other about the new word you learned that day and how we can't comprehend how much you are talking now. And by the way, "when did he start saying "watch" before he jumped on the pillows?"

We spend those last moments in the dark, talking about you. How special you are. How brilliant you are. Knowing that we have no other baseline for your brilliance, but knowing that you must be the most brilliant of all the children in the world. We know that you are special not because of any one thing but rather because of one important thing - you are ours.

We share these moments in the last moments of our day, and though I have never asked her, I know that she is smiling as we talk. Our moments to reflect on your perfectness, on our happiness. Our moments to share softly together in the darkest part of the night our most bright spots of the day.

And then as quickly as the conversation starts it ends. Usually with another non-verbal cue, a heavy breath, a prolonged silence, and we both know that sleep is creeping in. So we roll over and wait. Listening to your breaths over the monitor, us laying side by side and knowing that no matter what happened that day, that because of you we had a good day.

Xmas 2008

Sorry for the delay in posting these, we have been anxiously waiting for our new computer to arrive so it no longer takes us 5 hours to upload 5 pictures! Now that we have a beautiful new Dell computer, I will resume my regular posting of what we are up to. We have a lot to share so stay tuned...and enjoy these pictures from the Holidays!

Decorating the Xmas Tree

Harrison's first attempt at decorating the tree. It didn't last long nor turn out so well :)!

Enjoy!

The Sound of a Bell

I remember last year about this time I read H "The Polar Express" for the first time. It was a night when Liz was working and I read it to him by the Christmas tree, just he and I. He was barely six months and he just kind of sat there on my lap, slapping at the pictures. For whatever reason I started getting choked up at certain parts.

Tonight we were getting ready for bed and he was very adamant about reading "The Polar Express" I am guessing because he and Liz have been reading it, as it was sitting on the dresser. Again I couldn't help but get choked up reading it, and I think it was for very much the same reason as last year.

The story is about having the child-like belief in something. And as H sat there on my lap, crazily pointing out the train and the reindeer and the wolves, I couldn't help but look at the back of his tiny little head - moving back and forth with every flip of the page - and think of how awesome it all was. How he is just starting to understand the world around him and how he will get to believe in all of these wonderful things - how his slate is clean and how much fun is in store for him. I also think that a part of me remembers what it was like to have that innocence, to believe in that bell.

I know sadly we all stop hearing the bell, it sucks. So I have a wish for you...If you get a chance this Christmas close your eyes and remember back to the days of when a shiny bell could capture your imagination. Close your eyes and see if you can hear the bell and let a little piece of that inner child - the one who still believes that if you wish hard enough anything can come true - let that child out, even if just for a few moments.

An Important Phone Call

This is H playing with a set of "keys" from his first briefcase set. He was pretending that it was a phone and he seemed to be taking a very important phone call. Excuse the poor quality it was shot in a hurry with our point and shoot. Also, our house normally isn't that messy - I think "Hurricane H" blew in that day - see post below - enjoy!

November/December Pics

Little Path of Destruction

"It's like he just leaves a path of destruction behind him"

We have a little joke that when either one of comes home we can quickly take a look at the house and see what kind of day it has been with H. On days in which "Hurrican Harrison" has hit you can usually find Tupperware scattered about the kitchen, legos and books strewn throughout the living room, at least one golf ball rolling around the hardwood floors and usually Riley in a tizzy running around the room.

H has entered a stage in which everything and anything can suddenly be turned into a projectile. The little man has certainly discovered that he has quite the arm. Brett Favre he is not, but by the spirals in which his monkey and other animals can quickly be subjected to he is definitely working on his form.

The curious thing about his new found love of destruction is his complete opposite side that is often turned like a light switch. The side in which he suddenly wants to dance or be held and will sit for minutes with his head resting on your shoulders quietly mumbling as if he is whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

I am no child development expert, and I am guessing that this is normal and if we were to take him to a doctor the diagnosis would be "one and a half year old boy"! In many ways this double personality, the lovey little boy who cherishes his tickle times and hugs, and the one who likes to stare you down as he slowly raises a plastic golf ball over his head taking aim directly at the dog all while shaking his head "No" and smiling at you, is just the kind of son I want. One who isn't afraid to test the waters, discover and live life but has the compassion to understand when someone needs a hug.

Don't get me wrong, we discipline him, and I think that is one of the reason's why he will pick up all of his animal magnets off the kitchen floor two seconds after he walks by and sends them flying off the refrigerator with one swoop of his hand, or gives his dog a hug and kiss two seconds after attempting to swat him with stuffed monkey.

I love this age, and I am sure that we are in for more entertainment/struggles, but we welcome them, even if it means sending in a recovery team every night to pick up the pieces of a certain tropical storm!

NOT a Laughing Matter

As a new parent, and a parent of a blooming toddler, one of the hardest things is drawing the line between what actions are cute and funny and what actions need to be stopped before they get to be bad behavior. Now at nearly 16 months you can't really "discipline" other than NO. But Saturday I found myself in one of those in between moments.

We were cleaning the house and H started copying mom and dad and started "dusting" with a coaster. I turned to do something else and just happen to glance back and saw that he had stopped dusting and had pulled himself over the arm of the couch and was on the coffee table. Like a scurrying monkey he was making a mad dash trying to grab the phone before I caught him.

I quickly ran across the room, told him NO and set him on the couch. He, as he has been doing lately, was talking, animatedly, pointing to the phone as if I had just interrupted a serious mission. I told him NO again. As I was about to turn away the little monkey stuck his tongue out and made the motor boat sound - you know the one - something like pffftttt.

I had to quickly stop from laughing out loud. I asked Liz if we were doing time outs yet and she asked "why"? As I told her SHE started laughing.

I was going to let it go, figuring that he wouldn't understand why he was going for a time out after the fact...well, the little turkey kept doing it, and laughing at me. So I put him in the corner and sat with him as mom set the timer for one minute.

He looked at me like I had just stolen his ball, threw away his stuffed monkey, and stolen his juice in one foul swoop. Of course he started crying as it was probably the longest minute of his very young life.

I think he has forgiven me, but now I know that phrase that parents always give and kids never believe -- "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you". Because well, it did hurt, a little, especially having to be the one who issued that first bit of cruel and unusual punishment to such a sweet little guy...but something tells me that this was the first of many to come!