Two

Two has been a remarkable time in our lives with Tolkien. "Remarkable" is a word that a family friend who happens to be a priest likes to use when "many remarks could be made." I wouldn't go so far as to say that Tolkien's experience with the age of Two is "terrible", but given that this journey began in the late second trimester while expected Montgomery, it could be argued that it has been remarkable. 

I remember quite vividly at his 2-year-old check-up, his pediatrician asked if we had stayed to teach him his ABC's. Ever the performer, he sat there and sang them all, then pulled out his new birthday book and pointed out all the letters. And then tried to tell her all the animals he recognized in aforementioned book. 

For young Tolkien's 2.5 year birthday, we gave him, arguably, the best and worst present: a sister. We were expecting all manner of normal sibling reactions to a new baby. I blush to say, few of our expectations were favorable and we really thought he would be, for lack of a better term, jealous. In that regard, we may have been correct, excepting the small detail of what he was jealous. Tolkien was very jealous that he couldn't hold his sister. He wanted to be the one to comfort her. I think he would have tried to nurse her, if given the opportunity. When people came to see the new baby, he'd escort them to her, happily chatting about how great she is in his eyes.  We were... Perplexed. In short, many remarks could be made.

Things in Tolkien's muffin

This morning Tolkien was eating a muffin. While he ate, he listed off what was in it: "grapes, carrots, crayons..." Technically it did have raisins, but I don't know where he got crayons...

Rules #222

Stolen from a friend.

Very few things are better burnt.

Beware of Over Confidence.

I am the mother of a wonderfully creative 2.5 year-old little boy whom I call Tolkien.  He, like many toddlers, has an impressive desire to learn about the world around him through play, imitation, exploration, and through observation.  Also like many other toddlers, his learning sometimes takes on the role of household mischief maker.  He is willingly aided in this through the family dog, Molly.  

When we got the dog (which is its own long story) my thought process was that every child should have a pet growing up.  We also happen to live in an area that has a healthy population of wildlife; including snakes; including venomous snakes. Therefore, as Tolkien grows (and Montgomery as well), I have taken pains to ensure that Molly-dog fully embraces the children as her pack, and therefore, her puppies.  This includes giving them both opportunities to play with the other, spoil the other, and snuggle.  Mr. Gabrielle is on board with the bonding, but I'm not sure he likes the snuggling part.  Part of this bonding experiment includes Tolkien feeding Molly-dog her favorite treats.  As you might imagine, this makes all toddlers VERY popular with Molly. 

We are having a soggy, cold fall here in Texas. As part of my attempts to placate the toddler who hasn't been able to play outside much in the previous few months because we had a hot summer that my pregnant self couldn't stand, the month or so of mild weather was spent in recovery from the birth of Montgomery, and then we had cold and rain, I've been trying to find indoor activities that are not hazardous to anyone's health or my sanity.  This includes play-dough, an assortment of cars and other toys, and crayons on long rolls of butcher paper. 

Now that I've set the stage, I'd like to present my morning. I'm still trying to help the house recover from the birth of Montgomery, so any time I can work on this while she (Montgomery) is sleeping and Tolkien and Molly-dog are distracted, is welcome indeed.  While I was tidying to the kitchen, mentally congratulating myself for being so on top of things in the house, mentally stimulating my toddler, getting Montgomery into a schedule, and keeping all of us (Mr. Gabrielle, Tolkien, Montgomery, Molly-dog, Bash-turtle, and myself) fed, clothed where necessary, and clean, I noticed that Tolkien was doing something with Molly.  I didn't think much of it: this was a mistake.  

You may recall the scene in Peter and the Wolf where Sasha the bird gets cocky while flying circles around the wolf and then flies into a tree, just after the narrator states, "Beware of over confidence."  That's what it felt like when I looked over and realized that Tolkien gleefully fed his 24 count box of crayons, one by one, to Molly-dog.  Molly-dog gobbled them up.  And now I have an empty cardboard box of crayons, a long wet, cold day ahead with a bored toddler, a full dog, and an order to Amazon for more crayons that I am planning to coat in cayenne pepper and Tabasco sauce.  Beware of over confidence.

Breakfast

Now there are two: Tolkien and Montgomery, both sharing the initials of two of my favorite authors. However having a 2.5-year-old and a 3-week-old means a lot of big changes. High on the list including, 45 minutes intervals between night feedings for Montgomery, crack of dawn wake up calls from Tolkien, constant battles with household chores in spite of helpful toddlers restarting just finished loading of laundry so the clothes are soaked and have to go through another spin cycle only for the toddler to do it again, and Montgomery projectile vomiting on a freshly laundered basket as well. I just can't win. And then my offspring have a significant aversion to letting me eat. Or have coffee. It's enough to make one rethink IVs just to get enough caffeine to function.

Last night Montgomery didn't sleep well and Tolkien didn't want to hold still. And of course, my beloved husband had to work. I looked at the easy breakfast I had thrown together for myself, including coffee, and thought "it's lovely but there is no way my children will let me eat it. Lord, do you think you could help me?" And just like that, Montgomery fell asleep and stayed asleep for ten minutes. And Tolkien played quietly at the same time. It was a miracle!!! And just as I finished my coffee, Montgomery woke back up and Tolkien needed attention. But it was enough, to remind me that even on a bad day, I'm not done this alone.

Rules #221

This one comes from my beloved husband. 

Don't either over ten cents and buy the onions your actually want.

Tolkien

My son, Tolkien, has recently mastered the ability to stand. This had opened up whole new avenues of destruction. Keep in mind that at ten months he trained the dog to lay down adjacent to things he wanted to climb, at eleven months he opened the baby gate, and at twelve months he discovered how to eat Mama's carefully written thank you notes that were supposed to be sent to people who gave him birthday presents. I am, of course, very proud of his mischievous side as it is proof that he is indeed related to me and is not just a clone of his father, as so many have hypothesized. He has the hair and vocabulary of a two-year-old and all the charm of a politician. And yet I am frequently shocked that he is still a baby.

Rule #220

There is nothing quite like having a child to open up while new universes of fear.

Lots of time

One of those things that nobody tells you prior to having a baby is that if you choose to breastfeed you have a lot of time on your hands in which you can do almost nothing because your hands are full. There's only so much Facebook a person's sanity can handle, only so much television a person can tolerate, and only so much online shopping a budget will allow. Therefore I have returned to a favorite hobby of my childhood... Reading.

I recently discovered that my library allows me to download books temporarily to my phone and I've read about a dozen since I realized this. An added bonus that I need a finger free to operate it.

What have I been reading? A little of this, a little of that. Some history, some fantasy, some historical fiction. Best books: Jerrod Packard's Victoria's Daughters, Debbie Macomber's Inn at Rose Harbor series, Georgette Heyer's The Incredible Sophie, and Jim butcher's Changes. You'll forgive my typos here; I'm still typing with I one finger. Worst books: Marissa Meyer's Heartless and The Regency Rakes, which is nothing like Georgette Heyer's books no matter what suggestions the website suggests. It takes a lot to make my list of bad books... and remember it.

The cry room

Ever have one of those days where morning goes according to plan? Where you realize that for the second day in a row, you are missing one crucial ingredient to make dinner.  Therefor, you have to prepare for an elaborate trip out, which you desperately try to plan around daily Mass and a desperately needed free coffee day at Starbucks.  (Don't judge me; I still haven't gotten my French press back from ServPro.)  This involves repacking the diaper bag to ensure you have plenty of spare diapers, wipes, pacifiers, blankets, and at least two changes of clothes for your bundle of joy who usually loves Mass, has been known to blow threw the outfits in less than a half hour.

After much preparation and fanfare, you get to Mass, where you must choose your seat with care. Not too close to the well meaning little old ladies who think it's acceptable to pat my baby on the head/back/tushy and wake him up, not too far from the exit should the need arise to make a hasty get away, not too far from a visible spot to the front because we actually want to see Mass.  And then, he woke up.  As a rule, Tolkien likes Mass but if he gets hungry and if I can get him settled eating quickly he will happily sit through the rest of Mass.  I have found that we are the most successful with this maneuver if I do it before Mass starts and there is almost no one there, or if I excuse myself to the cry room for a minute to get situated.  I only have about two minutes to get him set up before all hope is lost, Tolkien won't settle, and I might as well go home.  Now the scene is set. 

Today, someone thought the Cry Room was really only for the first person who gets there and used it as her personal playpen for her unruly toddler... And locked the door.  Needless to say, I missed the window. Causing me to try not to glare daggers at the woman for the rest of Mass.  I will be the first to say that I understand that taking toddlers to Mass is difficult and bless you for trying.  However, lady, I needed a cry room for my crying baby, and by the time Mass was done, *I* was ready to cry too.

Wild, fire breathing, babies

"The thing about dragons is...." So many of these stories in the last ten years have started it with this line. Just ask any of the children I have ever babysat. The gist of the story is always summed up in this line.  The thing about dragons is they don't like swimming. The thing about dragons is they like their naps.  The thing about dragons is they have a sweet tooth.  The thing about dragons is they exceed expectations.  The thing about dragons is they never do what you expect.  All center around a precocious young dragon named Prince Eric Dragon. Some of these stories, told to me by my good friend, Colette, are purely to make the smalls giggle while others are to encourage certain behavior. There's even one or two to help through difficult experiences.  But there has always been one story that I've never been able to tell involving Prince Eric Dragon and a baby human prince.  I think I finally am ready to.

The thing about babies is they have never read the baby books.  The thing about babies is they like long naps, except when they don't want to nap. The thing about babies is they are supposed to begin smiling when they are around two months old, but some start when they are a few days old.  The thing about babies is they like to be snuggled, and entertained, and fed all the time.  They don't like to be raised high like Peter Pan, until the next time you try.  They like to pretend to be Superman, but only when they are in the mood. Sometimes they wake up crying but sometimes they wake up laughing. They wake up because they need something but sometimes they don't need anything at all.  They are always on their best, best behavior, except when they're not. They save all their smiles for Daddy, and Abuelita, and Atilla, and even occasionally Mama.  They like doing monkey see, monkey do. They abide by their rules long enough for you to learn them, and then they change ALL the rules to the game.

The thing about babies is that even when you haven't gotten out of your pajamas in days, or showered in a week (and haven't washed your hair in longer), your house is a mess, and you can barely manage to feed yourself, coffee and make-up are long forgotten luxuries except when someone extra comes along, household chores after barely covered, and the dog is barely acknowledged (but always fed), yet you still love that little baby.  You love him enough to go out in public with your hair a mess in order to show him off.  You drag him into Church where he acts like an angel until just after the sermon... Every time. He makes messes and belches loudly at the worst opportunity but you just think "he's so cute".  And even on your worst days, you're already planning out your next adventure and your next little one.
The thing about babies is they are just about perfect.

An early Epiphany letter

I wanted to write a Christmas card but that's not going to happen for  2016, so this is the next best that we can do.

2016 was a good year for us. It was the year of the weddings and big life changes for us, beginning with our own when we were married in January. We went to Louisiana and Fredericksberg and drank more wine than was strictly necessary. We also traveled to California for one cousin's wedding and were praying from afar for another cousin and uncle during their weddings. Daniel was able to attend the ordination of several of his seminarian buddies to the priesthood. We attended another friends wedding in Jarrell, Texas and we also traveled to Dallas for Thanksgiving with many of the Chapa family relatives.

In March Daniel got a promotion with a raise. He's an invaluable member of his team and he loves his job.

In August we retired my first car, Bennie. It was his time and we realized we could survive happily with one vehicle. Additionally, we spent much of early 2016 improving our house, fixing little things, and generally enjoying marital bliss, but more big changes were in store when...

We got our first family pet in July; a red eared slider turtle named "Bash" who provides endless hours of entertainment by tap dancing on the window of his aquarium. Daniel named him after a shell coding language. Bash spends his spare time chasing fish or chasing imaginary fish through his aquarium and then smugly grinning when he's caught them or shrieking in terror and hiding when I come too close to his aquarium. I don't think he'll ever forgive me for picking him up to clean his tank, but the one person who annoys him more than me is...

Molly, a seven-year-old rescue lab we took home in September. She doesn't bark much unless there is a problem (more about that later) and as a friend once described, she makes a very endearing congested elephant noise when she's excited. We had only heard her bark once until one day....

In early November, on the first cold, rainy day of the year, we had a house fire. It lasted maybe a half hour before a neighbor saw the smoke (or heard the formerly mute dog barking) and called for help. Hutto FD arrived very shortly after and around 10 AM we were notified when they called the numbers on Molly's collar. All we knew for sure was there had been a fire, they found the dog but they wouldn't comment on her state of living, they hadn't found the turtle, and we needed to come home as soon as possible.  This proved difficult with one car so I stayed at work and...

Daniel's first view of the scene was the fire department putting out the last of the flames. They had broken down front and back doors and wouldn't allow anyone in, but even from outside the damage was not small. Two neighbors held Molly and gave her food and water and wiped the worst of the debris off of her but it took them a while to find Bash. When they did, Bash was covered in ash and was pulled so far into his shell that we feared he may never come out. He was deposited in the now empty, borrowed dog water bowl which did not improve his mood but I still couldn't get back until...

One of my office lawyers drove me back to the house, armed with several business cards for restoration teams provided by some of the other adjusters in the office. I arrived after most of the excitement was over but I didn't stay to survey the damage. With the help of a close family friend, I took both creatures to three different vets before we found one who would look at both of them and give an assessment of their health. Both received baths (only one was happy about it) and were given a clean bill of health so long as they didn't exhibit any other concerning symptoms, which they didn't. Bash returned to his usual ornery self and tried his best to escape from the dog bowl. Molly wouldn't stop barking. I returned to the house and saw that despite the extensive damage, we were still very lucky. The fire was limited to one room but smoke and water damage affected every room in house. Nothing in the room with the fire survived except for Molly and Bash. By the end of the day we had hired a deconstruction / restoration team to begin work ASAP with one goal, to be back in the house by the time that...

Our baby, Balthazar Bauer got a window seat. He's due on Star Wars day 2017. Yes, he's a boy. No, we're not going to name him Balthazar. (For those who are worried, I got checked out after the fire). Being pregnant makes me a liability to the restoration team so I haven't been allowed in the house since the fire. Add in that I'm an insurance adjuster and I'm every insurance company's worst nightmare. We didn't have much after that day, but fortunately...

We stayed with relatives for a few weeks while we got temporary housing figured out and we moved into our rental on December first. As you might imagine, we didn't have much... but we were all alive so it's hard to be too upset. Several family and friends stepped up to loan us things the relocation company didn't provide. We hired a contractor to restore the house and tried to make do with hastily preparing Christmas. I don't think I've ever identified with the Holy Family more than this year. I think we had a very small idea what it felt like to be displaced and travelling with very little. It helped to separate us from the worldly part of Christmas to really focus the Christ child. Everything was beginning to look a lot better until...

I went into anaphylactic shock at a Christmas party. I've known I was allergic to doTERRA essential oils for years but I've always had more time to react to having an allergic reaction... Usually fifteen minutes or so; this time I had thirty seconds. Balthazar and I are fine... Daniel's a little scared but he has every right to be. Molly has glued herself to my leg and has become even more protective of us. That being said, we are still looking forward to...

2017. There are more changes to come, and I pray, that we'll be back in our house before Balthazar comes.

Conversations in my Sleep

This is as accurate a recollection of a conversation I had with my better half, while I was completely asleep last night.


*He comes into the bedroom.*
Me- "Can you plug in my phone."
Him- "Yes, dear, give me a minute."
*A few minutes later he picks up my phone and his phone.*
Me- "Did you plug in my phone?"
Him- "Doing it right now, dear."
*A few minutes later he climbs into bed.*
Him- "I love you."
Me- "I love you, too. Did you plug in my phone?"
Him- "Yes, dear."


And I don't remember any of it.

Rule #219

We are so very blessed.

Rule #218

Everything that doesn't matter can burn, but what's left is what really matters and what's really important.

Rules #217

Going out of your way to help someone, even when they are being horrible to you, is an act of charity and love.

Rules #216

A short phone call with someone who "gets you" is liable to cure just about anything.

I'm not an expert

I am not a therapist.  Nor am I a parent.  I am especially not a parent of adopted children. However, in my current employment I came across an instance where a child is acting out repeatedly, and injuring numerous people in the process, and no one seems to understand why.  The common factor that I've heard from every source is that this child is the case of a recent adoption and every time he runs away, or hits someone, or acts out, he always says, "I want to call my mom." This isn't just a natural case of misbehavior.  This is a child who is crying for help because he's afraid she won't come back for him. This may seem an unreasonable fear, but consider that in the best case scenario, he's already lost everything once. I really want to send this parent a copy of "How to listen so children will talk" by Mr. Rogers and "Beyond Consequences, Logic, and Control" by B. Bryan Post and Heather T. Forbes, but due to professional boundaries, I can't. I can't point out that this kid is acting VERY normally considering the circumstances, and that he legitimately has some very pressing concerns. I can't tell her all this, or his teacher, or his principal. I can't do anything. So I'm repeating what I know to the interwebs, praying that somehow the caretakers of this child will find this. And hoping that if the general public is educated on this some more, it will find it's way back to the children who need this.

Again, I'm not an expert. I'm not a parent. I'm not a teacher. And I'm not in this situation. But I've seen it happen. Again and again. My mother always says you can't save the world and she's right, but if I can pass this on to one person I'm doing my part.

That's it, we're moving to Australia

Yesterday was a horrible, ugly, no good, terrible day. I now want to move to Australia. However, this morning began with a quiet house, husband at grocery store, and a clean bedroom. And coffee. Before I left the house. Today is going to be much better than yesterday, I can tell already. Maybe we won't be moving Australia.

Let it go

When you are really, truly, angry with someone, is it really such a bad thing if you tell them.  The caveat is that whether they are truly apologetic or imply that this is really your fault for expecting too much, you must let it go. This is something that I feel is a lesson that God keeps teaching me. Over and over again. I won't go into the specifics as the what but I'm putting it behind me.

But, if it were to come up again, and the situation were to repeat, is it a problem, to redo what they did and then respond that they didn't seem to think it was a big deal when it happened to me?

Again, this is why God keeps teaching me the first lesson, to let it go. Fortunately, I have a new husband who encourages me to let things go.