Milestones

Cayden's interest in reading and words is so intense right now that he has developed a charming habit of correcting my pronunciation when reading his favorite truck book (from Grandpa Spray, of course) -  "Momma, you didn't say the S" -  "Don't forget the B Momma" - I can't decide if this is charming or annoying. Given where his genes are coming from, it's probably both.

Tgivng

This year for T-giving we stayed in A-town. We had dinner at our friend's house, watched football, and then migrated to another friend's house for dessert and games. It was an extremely low-key affair that set a new standard for companionship and holiday butter consumption.

I wish I could take credit for the following photos but our friend Marco does it for a living so we "let" him record our lives.

Banana Muffins

The training of the kid is really starting to pay dividends. Last Sunday when Jordanna asked him if he wanted to help make pancakes for breakfast he voiced his opinion that they make pancakes every Sunday and they should instead make muffins. So when I came downstairs around 7:30 to make some coffee I found freshly made banana muffins waiting for me. It was wonderful. So wonderful in fact that when I found out it was his idea I very sincerely thanked him for making me such tasty muffins. True to his mimic tendencies he waited a moment for gravity, looked me straight in the eyes and told me 'It was my pleasure Daddy."

Mr. Precocious

The following account is a paraphrased story from Cayden's teacher at school: Cayden had a bit of a run in with his friend Bob (name changed for privacy reasons) today. Billy tried to take the truck that Cayden was playing with, and when they both started getting upset we intervened and asked Billy to let Cayden play with the truck for a few minutes before asking him to share it. That resolved the situation, because they are used to these sharing rules. About an hour later, Cayden came up to me and said, "I just wanted to say thank you for helping out with the Billy situation earlier".

The constant NPR in the house and heavy emphasis on emotional communication seems to have some bizarre effects on this kid.

Wedding Extrodinaire

A couple of weekends ago we attended the wedding of our good friends Steve and Sarah. A wonderful time was had by all. And we have the pictures to prove it.

Misunderstanding

My son loves Halloween. He remembers it from last year, which blows me away because he was only 2 1/2 years old. He sat outside with Tyson and handed out candy last year, obnoxiously telling the thirteen year old girls, "Now you say thank you. Say thank you!", and at the end of the night we rewarded his diligent manner instructing with a single piece of candy. His eyes grew wide and stared at us with a look on his face that clearly said, "You mean to say we have been GIVING THIS AWAY!". Round about June he came out of our back room babbling about kids looking silly and giving away and I stared in bewilderment at him until I realized that he was describing halloween to me and asking when that would happen again. I told him October and he wandered off. In August he started talking about halloween again, and by September I realized that we as a family would now be celebrating this holiday. How could I deny him? He is so excited. He decided that he wants to be a humpback whale, so after much discussion and thought I headed to the thrift store and got myself a blue denim curtain to turn into a whale (I am banking on the fact that three year olds can't tell whether or not they look ridiculous). Last night I started the costume and had him come into the back room and lay down on the curtain so I could trace out the whale pattern. He stood up and asked me about it, so I pointed out the head, flippers and tail to me. He pause, looking very thoughtful, then said, "But Mommy, I thought I was going to be a real humpback whale that could swim!".

Trust

Trust is a beautiful thing. As a parent I work hard to build a solid bond with my son so that he trusts me. The flip side of that coin however is the responsibility that goes along with a relationship built on trust. I'll give you an example.

Yesterday the whole family was out in the backyard working and playing. Jordanna and I were working and Cayden was playing. At one point I found a hook and part of a clothesline that were no longer in use. So I called Cayden over and tied it to the back belt-loop of his pants so he would have a tail. He really likes having a tail and the clothesline was a nice long 4 foot section of sturdy rope.

A couple of hours later he and I were standing under a tree and it occured to me that I could tie the end of his tail to a low hanging branch. So I did. As I was tying it he asked me why I was tying him to a tree. So without thinking I said "Because it's fun. Ready, now run!" Without a thought he grinnned widely and sprinted off. He made it about 4 good steps before the line went taut, yanked his hips out from underneath him and with a look of absolute shock he swung down and crashed into the ground flat on his face and belly. Much crying ensued. Not so much from pain but more from surprise. Jordanna witnessed the entire thing and was collapsed in a small ball trying not to laugh at my son's pain.

The lesson learned at Chez-Spray yesterday is twofold. Firstly, my son loves and trusts me enough that if I smile and tell him something is fun he will unquestioningly do it. That is indeed a very special thing. Secondly, tails are dangerous.

Tonight the Zombies Win

PopPop and Cayden tear up the Celtic Classic

Adventures with Anal Glands

As some of you may know, our dog Roland is old. OLD. We did the math this summer and realized that he is 11, and for a 110 lb dog whose first five years were filled with starvation and abandonment, that is a very advanced age. Until this summer he has been quite spry, wih arthritic episodes only showing up after strenuous hiking. However, over the summer things took a turn for the worse. I don't know if he had a bad reaction to the fleas (I'm *almost* ready to talk about it), or the heat, or his food, but he broke out in massive sores just as we left town for two weeks. As soon as we got back, I started transitioning him to a raw diet of meat from our local farmer's market. With just 1/3 of his food replaced with meat, I saw an immediate improvement in his skin. Over the past month I have completed his transition so that he is currently getting raw meat, an egg, a handful of shredded vegetables and a spoon of metamucil 5 nights a week. On the 6th day he gets a big meaty bone, and on the 7th day he fasts (Roland loves the fast day, really he does). Why Metamucil you ask? Well, we hit a minor bump in our transition away from commercial dog food where in the dog stopped pooping. As if this weren't bad enough, it was rapidly accompanied by symptoms of hind limb discomfort (laying down, dragging his butt on walks, refusing to move). Tonight it seemed like he was incapable of using his back legs a couple times. As responsible pet owners we turned to our veterinary handbook. Sure enough, under impacted anal glands, the book said that swollen and infect glands could lead to hind limb paralysis. As soon as Tyson read the phrase will need to manually evacuate the dog's anal glands, he handed the book to me and said, "This is one of those times when he is your dog". One bath and exciting adventure later (thank the heavens for latex gloves) my bathroom now pleasantly smells of gingebread candle and anal juice. Don't you wish you had a dog?

Four A.M. Snuggles

Waking up to realize that your son has snuck into bed with you and snuggled warmly into your side is one of the most rewarding experiences of parenting. Accept, of course, when your son pees in your bed, then awakens you my jumping on your face to stand and look out the window at the recycling truck.

Mostly Cool, but a Little Creepy

"Hey Mommy, do you know what comes out in the dark at night? Out of my ears comes the secret video show and it plays all around in the air. And do you know? The secret video show is all about talking driving things."

Apologies for the Radio Silence

I hate it when we fall behind on the blog, because I feel like there is no way we will remember the details of our current lives two decades down the road. I probably feel that way because I can't remember the details of my life yesterday. But, I promise we will update soon, with many entertaining and harrowing tales of the summer (world war flea!).  In the spirit of being better about blogging, I wanted to comment on my son's remarkable instinct for survival. After 45 straight minutes of droning out random words and syllables in a tone of voice that brought to mind a dirigible, I was pretty close to throwing a certain 3 year old out the window. He drones his way over to me sitting on the couch sorting through laundry:

C: What are you doing Mommy?
J: Folding laundry
C: Can you make room for me so I can have a big snuggle in your lap?
J: heart melts

He seems to have inherited Tyson's instinct for when I have been annoyed *just* enough.

I Always Wanted a Book with Some Legs Attached

Fishing/MDIBL

As our extended New England adventure continues we went fishing early in the morning, went out to Mount Desert Island Biological Laboratory for the afternoon, and then got some lobsters for dinner.  Soon to follow will be pictures from our exciting whale watching trip on the super fast Catamaran, our hike up ?Gorham? Mtn, and our trip to Thunder Hole (where we risked life and limb in the name of exploration).

Beach Tour '10 cont.

As RI Beach Tour '10 continues we hit East Beach yesterday. I had never been there before (nor had my mom who's lived in the area all her life) and it was an unusual beach. The parking lot was very small so it filled fast and it had two swimming areas. One was the obvious beach side and the other was a small salt pond for kids. Cayden LOVED the little kids area and spent most of the time waist deep with Vavo playing with (tortuing) ctenophores.

The main beach side was really nice, although the entry was very steep and the waves broke right onshore. Amazingly enough there were people attempting to boogie-board. They would pick up the wave 5 feet from the shore, throw themselves into the brown, churning maelstrom of rough sand and get thrown straight down onto the sand while getting a seashell enema. So I tried it once. It was not fun.

Driving Like Raymond

For the first time ever Grandpa-Bear sits in the passenger seat of his cherry Honda S2000.  I cant beleive my kid made it to the driver's seat of that car before I did.  Little bugger.

Portland Welcomes Us

In a bid to be the first East Coast Sunkids that the twins remember we took a long weekend in Portland, OR to visit Gail and Kim's adorable progeny, Vinny and Gemma.  Of course Powell's used books is based out of Portland so that was our first stop our first day.  Cayden had a ridiculously good time there and spent the ENTIRE rest of the trip memorizing new books and requesting new books to be read to him.  He may remember Portland as the city of literature and eerily similar babies.

 

Get That Pasta on the Grill!

Rolling With The Punches

Do you know how to get five strangers in ten minutes offer to help you out? Have your car break down with a three year old in it. Cricket - with spectacular timing - had her serpentine belt fade into oblivion as Cayden and I pulled into the parking lot of Action Rental this morning. Being a very wise and mechanically inclined person, I decided that it would be a poor plan to try and drive 14 miles to the dealer, seeing as everything in our car (alternator, power steering, etc..) is run by the serpentine belt. So in my wisdom, I decided to call a tow truck. Have I mentioned the three year old in this story yet? The three year old who whined and cried the entire 20 minute drive from Daddy's work to the parking lot of doom? The very very hungry three year old? The second I told him to be quite so that I could listen and see if our car was the source of that awful noise, he transformed into the most wonderful,easy going kid in the world. He did not tear apart the rental shop while I called the dealer. He patiently sat with me in the trunk and listened to a book while we waited for the tow truck. He LOVED riding in the tow truck. You should call the house some time this week to chat with him about it, I imagine it will factor into his conversations for a while. And let us not get into how exciting the dealership was. Do you know how many cars there are there? Cars you can sit in? With doors you can shut! While he was completely baffled by the process, he was so charming and sweet that he made what could have been an awful morning really entertaining. Turns out, when my traveling companion loves tow! trucks! that much, they become a little more fun for me too.

Worms! Worms!

At this time last year, I was pretty convinced that all of my neighbors were crazy. Now I am older, wiser, and have had the opportunity to get to know people. So, now I know it is just the one neighbor who is crazy. Her antics range from taking over 9 months to learn my name, to asking "What happened to your face?" everytime she saw me for two months straight (some people have stress-induced acne despite being in their thirties and are quite self-conscious about it, so I'll thank you to SHUT UP). We got into an interesting conversation last fall about my compost, wherein she claimed to be unable to weed her back garden because there are too many worms. I'm sorry, come again? Too many worms and she is afraid of them and they are coming from the compost bin on my side of the fence. Could I please please please move it? I politely informed her that there isn't another good sunny spot in my yard, so the compost will have to remain. She told me the city officials told her I had to move it. I told her that the city gave me the compost bin for free, so I find that to be unlikely. I called the waste/ recycling office after our delightful chat and determined that I do not, in fact, have to move my compost. I don't know what city official neighbor-lady called, but whoever it was put an idea in her head; an idea of how to get my compost to be a verifiable nuisance: odor. Apparently if it smells, I am officially "disturbing" her (happily, compost cones don't smell - that is why they are great). Fast forward to today: when I got home I had a busines card taped to my front door with a hand-written note asking me to call Allentown's Recycling Office about my compost. I called and had a lovely five minute conversation with the woman who came by our house today and gave her permission to sniff my compost tomorrow. She apologetically said that they are required by law to follow up on all complaints (even the crazy ones), but that after she sniffs our compost the issue should be resolved.  It's days like this I think to myself, thank god she doesn't know about the dog-poop septic tank on the other side of the yard.

Diversionary Tactics

J: Cayden, don't eat the tortilla. You are supposed to be making the quesadilla, it isn't ready yet.
C: Why?
J: Because that is your dinner and it's not cooked yet.

J: Cayden, don't eat the tortilla
C: Why?
J: Because we can't cook it in the skillet if the tortilla is missing.

J: Cayden! I asked you not to eat the tortilla. If you can't stop eating it, I am going to ask you to go play with your trains instead of helping me make dinner.
C: (whispering) Shhhh! Mommy, we're supposed to be quite and not talk in the kitchen.

Six Flags

I was lucky enough to be included on a field trip to Six Flags with the Physics class at my school this Friday.  The new ride at the park is Kingda Ka and its a ridiculous roller coaster.  In the vein of new-fangled modern roller coaster rides it lasted all of about 20 seconds but wow, what a rush.  Its both the tallest and fastest roller coaster in the world and it was the very first ride we went on when we got there.
 
Using a hydraulic launcher (like aircraft carriers) it catapaults you to 128mph in 3.5 seconds, shoots straight up 45 stories and then directly back down again.  That first acceleration you feel in your gut as all of your internal organs get squashed together.  Overall I've been on better roller coaster rides (Nitro later in the day was really fun) but it was a unique experience that I will not soon forget.

 

Recent Photos

Sporting the cooking apron that mommy made

Sporting the Red Sox outfit that Vavo sent us

Sporting the colors of a lesser known, slightly effeminate, gang

A Conversation Over A Washcloth

J: (wiping Cayden's face) See? It's not that bad you little drama queen.
C: (jumping off his stool) Mama, all my grown-ups call me drama queen. I like being drama queen.

The Din of Modern Childhood

Stickler for Detail

Walking up the steps to get ready for bed...
J: Cayden, what did you just eat off the floor?
C: A raisin.
J: (trying to ignore the pile of dog hair he just fished it out of) Cayden, we don't eat food off the floor
C: It's not a floor Mommy, it's a step

Overheard

C: Toku bites me when I pet him for real
T: That's true. Toku usually bites you when you pet him. But you roar at him a lot.

Dangerous Boy

Oddly enough my crazy little guy loves to play with weapons.  So I let him.

Fency-Fence

Seeing as we have a gigantic dog and seeing as we have a 3 yr old and seeing as we damn well feel like it, we have decided to fence in our back yard. So last Sunday we invited some of our friends over to help dig 2' deep holes in our yard, no small amount of labor, for which we paid them beer and pizza and cheeseburgers.

22 post holes were dug and 22 fence posts were set and without the generous spirit of our friends I would still be out there trying to level a post and tamp it at the same time. So thank you to all who helped us out. Many BBQs this summer to follow.

Double Header

Sorry to be that annoying parent who keeps prattling on about their kid, but I really wanted to record this for posterity sake. (You, dear readers, are not the sole purspose of this blog. We are terrible at keeping photo albums and journals, so this is our  family history). Cayden and I were walking the dog after dinner, and because of a random conversation I had with a student today, Power of Two (Indigo Girls) was in my head. I started singing while we were walking, and this conversation ensued:

C: Mommy, what are you singing?
J: Power of Two
C: Can you not sing that song?
J: Why don't you want me to sing that song?
C: I makes me feel....
C: ....
C: Mommy, can you say, "What is that song?
J: What is that song?
C: wee-ooo wee-ooo wee-oo (siren noises)
J: What is that song?
C: It is "Heaven is when a fire truck comes"
J: collapses on side walk laughing
J: Cayden, can you sing me that song again? I liked it very much.
C: Oh no. It is a very long song. I would be too tired.
J: Well, if you feel like it sing me just as much as you want to.
C: (tears off down the side walk) heaven is a fire truck coming.... wee-ooo wee-ooo wee-ooo

I think that is as close to poetry as a two (almost 3!) year old can get. Sometimes I think I underestimate just how much that kid loves fire trucks.

A Born Showman

So, as you who read the blog already know, Cayden has been learning to use the potty for the past 6 months. He has been doing really well for the past month, at least he was until Zak and Kendra came to visit. The emotional trauma of their departure has led to a bit of a regression in his potty skills, which sets the stage for our story...


... Once upon a time, in a land called the JCC, two lovely ladies taught a class full of 2 and 3 year olds. A little boy named Cayden attended this class. One day he had b.m. accident so bad, it got on the floor. The lovely teachers had a choice to make. Do they clean Cayden first? Or the floor? One teacher set about minding the other children, while the remaining teacher scooped Cayden up and put him on the change table. Unfortunately, one of the remaining children sprinted by and slipped on Cayden's mess, falling on her back into the b.m. The little boy Cayden, a born showman, chose this moment to stand up on the change table (partially disrobed and not entirely clean) and proclaim, "This is my HAPPY FACE!". The moral of this story? Go thank a child care provider.

It's Certainly "Unique"

J: "I'd like to make a reservation for dinner tonight"
Hostess: "How many?
J: Five adults
H: Your name?
J: Jordanna. J-O-R-D-A-N-N-A
H: Is that your first name?
J: Yes
H: Can I have your last name?
J: Sprayberry
H: Wow, it just gets better doesn't it?

Pic for Mom's Project

Night-time Visitor

In general, Cayden is a very good sleeper. He goes to bed on his own and he is pretty tolerant of our "no going downstairs before 7 am on Saturday" and "no snuggling in Mommy and Daddy's bed before 5 am" rules. A couple of times a week he will come in to our room at 1 am and in a stage whisper ask, "Is it five oclock?". Last night he came in at midnight and woke me with his "whispered" question. I said no and he asked if I could pat and rub his back in his bed. So I hauled my butt out of bed, tucked him in, and patted his back, and trundled back to bed. 1:58 rolls around and my visitor had come back! I told him it still wasn't five and he asked if I could patt and rub him. Now, we are a two-parent family and this is the second visit in a single night, so I told him to ask Daddy. I hear the pitter-patter of little feet running to the other side of our bed and Cayden's whispered question, "Daddy, can Mommy take me back to bed and pat me and rub me?". My husband's response: "Of course she can sweetheart".

Babushka Approved

Last night my pal and I unpacked and split up our tin of Bulgarian surplus ammo. It was awesome. There was an "Inspected By..." paper mostly in Cryllic that I cannot even begin to understand, the tin opened like some kind of eastern bloc sardine can, and the rounds were wrapped in little packages of 10. I kid you not. 300 rounds, each group of 10 gift-wrapped with a little commie bow of proletariat twine. I had read about this on a website I frequent (theboxotruth.com) but it was still a little startling. You totally CAN picture scarf-clad babushka grandmas wrapping bullets on an assembly line.