G2 Four-month Status Update and Sleep Deprivation

As G2 closes in on his 5-month birthday (tomorrow), it's maybe a good idea to post about his 4-month checkup. In defense of my belated post (and man, do I have a lot of excuses), I don't think Hollie and I have gotten less sleep at any point in our lives than we've gotten in the last four weeks.

What started as a typical 4-month sleep regression--waking up two or three times per night instead of one--has morphed into a waking nightmare of getting up every 10 to 30 minutes all night long .

It. Is. Not. Fun. At. All.

As awful as it is, I don't feel quite as stressed out about it as when similar things happened with LG. Because if we learned nothing else from her early days, it's that nothing lasts. This too shall pass. But if this could pass a little more quickly, I'd really appreciate it. This morning, I mentioned to Hollie that the lack of sleep has led to a general feeling that my brain is swollen, taking up more space in my head than normal. I think I've given her a complex.

Anyway. Doctor visits!

G2's weight is straight-down-the-middle normal. He clocked in at 15.11 lbs three weeks ago, good for 47th percentile.

His length, on the other hand, is a bit crazy. He's 27 inches long, or 95th percentile.

What's sort of amazing is that, by percentile, that's almost exactly where LG was at four months: 50th and 95th, weight and length.

What's even more amazing, to me at least, is the difference between those percentiles for girls and boys.   At four months, LG was 13.44 lbs and 25.5 inches long. In fact, at six months, she still wasn't 27 inches, and only outweighed G2's 4-month weight by about 3 oz. That's a lot of numbers, but suffice to say it's no coincidence that my mom lifted G2 this weekend, and was amazed by how much baby is in that baby.

I'll just repeat my common refrain: Kryptonian DNA.

And this, of course, is the finest in Kryptonian formalwear

Though it still doesn't explain the crappy sleep patterns. Come on, buddy. Any less sleep, and my brain is going to show through my skull.

And I have a hard enough time finding hats that fit as it is.

They Grow Up So Fast

Four months and three days ago, I had a toddler. A single kid, who was very cool, but very much a toddler. Now, I have two kids. And somewhere along the way, the toddler disappeared. I don't know how it happened exactly, but with all the accomplishments she's racked up in four months, she no longer qualifies.

What accomplishments, you say? I shall answer, as ever, with a list.

1. She's potty-trained.

I didn't think it could happen, but it did. There were moments when I was sure she'd never be potty trained, and yet, months later, here we are. (Side-note: Do not let anyone tell you that you can potty train a kid in a couple of days. Those people are dirty, dirty liars.) I won't get into the details, because all of you who have young children in diapers will get there soon enough, and I don't want to spoil anything for you. Suffice to say, it's a super fun time. (It is not a super fun time.) But now, if she needs to use the bathroom, she tells someone. It might be five minutes after I put her to bed, or halfway through the grocery store with a cart full of perishables, but she tells me, and more importantly, holds it 'til we can do something about it.

2. She's in pre-school

After several months in the older toddler room at daycare, someone decided that perhaps the child who talks circles around all but one of the other children (and several of the teachers) should be moved to the pre-school room. I was apprehensive about this, because she'd already been through a bunch of changes in a short time (new bed, new brother, new teacher in the room she was already in, the list goes on). But the only other kid in her class who could carry a conversation moved away, and during the summer the pre-schoolers get to go in the pool every day. That basically sealed the deal, and she's been doing great. She comes home every day with some new piece of information, like the day of the week or the town she lives in, and another story about splashing in the pool. Speaking of which...

3. She swims under her own power (with the aid of a PFD)

I'll let the video speak for itself.

4. No more plugs
I'm not sure if it's been made clear in this space before, but our pet word for pacifier is "plug." The reason should be self-explanatory. A few weeks ago, she slept without one for the first time. Taking the cue (maybe earlier than was necessary), we made the decision that plugs would go away. We boxed 'em up, and told her that since she was a big girl, we were sending them to a little kid who needed them. As is her custom whenever presented with the possibility of a new friend, she asked the child's name. We briefly panicked, then said the kid's name was Sally. This was a mistake. She then decided she needed to meet Sally, and we would need to make this happen. (Lesson to parents: If you say you're giving your plugs away, pick a young child who actually exists. Your kid is smarter than you think.) She eventually forgot about Sally, and after a night or two of general fussiness, she is now plug-free. If only all addictions were that easy to kick.

5. She is extraordinarily kind to her baby brother
This may not count, but I've got to say, we have been so surprised at how well she's adapted to having a younger sibling. There were some growing pains, to be sure, but she has never been anything less than loving and kind to G2. (She's thrown an extra fit or two her parents' way, but that's another story.)

This is a good hug, I promise.

Not to be outdone, G2 has been knocking down milestones at a steady clip. For instance:

1. He rolls over!
The day before his four-month birthday, out of the blue, the kid rolled over, not once, but five times. He rolled over so hard, he knocked the horizon 180 degrees out of whack. For those keeping track at home, he beat his sister to the punch by at least a couple of weeks.

2. He eats solid food
Okay, so he eats rice cereal, and "eats" may be a bit overstating it. But we put rice cereal in his mouth with a spoon, and at least some of it doesn't come back out again. LG even gets in on the action.

Although 2 seconds after the last picture, LG sneezed into the rice cereal, and the meal ended.

And in case you're wondering, yeah, I got the sneeze on video.

It's a cliché, but they do grow up fast. You can get sentimental about it, or you can be grateful you only have to change one set of diapers. I think I know which way I'm leaning.

Conversations with Our Two-Year Old

Inspired by Conversations with my 2 Year Old, I'm going to periodically post conversations LG has with me and Hollie. (If you've never watched those, go ahead. I'll wait. They are hilarious, and more than a tiny bit creepy.) These conversations are not creepy at all, but they do illustrate that toddlers are on their own wavelength 90% of the time.

On trying to understand the word WHY at dinner
Me: Why are you licking your hand?
LG: Because Mama told me not to.
Me: No, that's why you shouldn't lick your hand. I'm asking why you are doing it.
LG: ...
Me: When I ask why, I'm asking you to tell me the reason you decided to do something. Why did you decide to lick your hand.
LG: Because I put it in my mouth.
Me: Okay, let's try this. What were you thinking about when you decided to lick your hand?
LG: Um... an elephant? (rimshot)

On transitive properties of freckles
LG: (from her carseat, frantically, while I'm driving) Daddy! I can't find my freckle!
Me: You have lots of freckles. What do you mean you can't find it?
LG: I can't find it! It's gone!
Me: There are at least three freckles on your legs. I'm sure they're still there.
LG: But this one moved!
Me: We'll double check your freckles when we get home. Your freckles can't move, sweetie.
LG: I found it! Oh, it's dirt.

On aggressive driving
Not a conversation, per se, but interesting nonetheless. I'm driving home with both kids on a four-lane road. I need to make a left turn at a light, but I'm in the right lane because I got distracted by G2 crying in the backseat. I'm still a ways from the light, and I see an opening between two cars, probably 10 car lengths or so. Plenty of room to move over.

In the process of moving into the left lane, I get in front of a guy who clearly thought he was going to put on the gas and sail through the light. Instead, he has to tap his brakes. (not slam, mind you. there was plenty of room between him and me.) Did I cut the guy off a little? Yes, but not that much. As it turns out, I don't even have to wait at the light. I made the turn quickly, without slowing down much at all, and he flies by behind me.

But as the guy flies through the light, he leans out his window and shouts "Jackass!" really loudly. LG immediately goes, "Daddy, someone shouted Jackie! Who were they talking to? Jackie, Jackie, Jackie."

She pays attention, but she doesn't pay attention that closely.
On the conversational habits of infants.
G2, for his part, is three months old, so he's not really talking.


Of course it's hard to get much vocalization going when you're constantly trying to devour your own hand.

Lessons in Fatherhood: "Man of Steel" Edition

This Father's Day weekend, I was fortunate enough to see Man of Steel, which you'll note was on my to-do list back in early March. I'm especially grateful to Hollie for this, as most of that to-do list sadly sits undone. And given our son's name, it's especially appropriate that this is the movie I get to cross off that list. Another shout out to Peter and Steven, who also abandoned their kids for three hours to go see a man in tights beat up some other dudes in tights.

As it turns out, it's no accident the movie was released Father's Day weekend, since the main emotional through-line of the film is a father's (or more than one father, in this case) sacrifice for his son. The film would like you to believe that Jor-El and Pa Kent were paragons of virtue, willing to do whatever it takes to be the best fathers they could be. Whether or not the film successfully makes this point, well... that's another thing entirely.

So in the spirit of Father's Day, I present to you "Lessons in Fatherhood: Man of Steel Edition." (For the wary, or those who plan to see the movie, fair warning, SPOILERS ahead.)

DO
...Protect your family from harm, even in the face of death. Jor-El faces off against General Zod early in the film, giving his wife, Lara Lor-Van, enough time to safely launch their son into space, thus saving young Kal-El from Zod's stated intention to murder him AND from Krypton's imminent destruction. As a father, I'd like to think I've got the fortitude necessary to protect my children in the face of catastrophe or murderous military leaders with questionable haircuts.

DON'T
...Make a computer program that preserves your own consciousness and likeness (effectively granting yourself eternal life) so that you can interact with your child as though you'd never died, but NOT do the same for your wife. That's just a jerk move, Jor-El.

DO
...Care for the helpless. Jonathan Kent (along with Martha) opens his home to a child whose history, nay entire being, he can't hope to comprehend. The compassion necessary to make such a commitment is extraordinary. That single act not only gives the world Superman, but provides the basis for Superman's actions as a hero. Would that I can impart such compassion to my children.

DON'T
...Sacrifice yourself to save the family dog. It's just not worth it. Your son is Superman. He just saved like five people from a tornado. If the dog has to live, let your son do it. Because now, he has to live with the fact that he could've saved you, but stopped when you conveyed a look that said, "No. Your secret as an alien with superpowers is too important to waste on saving me, your adopted father, even though at least 30 people in our town have already seen you do crazy stuff, and we just had an argument where you yelled at me. My death is too important as a source of guilt. With great power comes great responsibility. Wait, what franchise am I in?"

Kids, if you're reading this, please remember something very important. I will never sacrifice my life to save the dog. And if it looks like I'm going to, and you have the power to stop me, or save me with no harm to yourself, please do it.

If you take nothing else from this blog ever, let it be this: I am more important than the dog.

She Blinded Me with Science (and Made a Huge Mess)

Much has been made of late about the importance of STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) education in the U.S. Is it important for our country to invest in getting our children interested in STEM topics? Sure, probably. But like a lot of things related to education, the battle starts at home.

You want your kids to like reading? Read to them.
You want your kids to like art? Create with them.
You want your kids to like science? Make rockets, chemical reactions and dinosaurs everyday activities.

How will you know it's working? Here are a few clues you're doing it right.

1. When you realize you're able to forgive almost any mess on the basis of its scientific merit.
Admittedly, Hollie is way better about this than I am. Though I'm far from a neat freak, I get heart palpitations just looking at this picture. But, hey, cause and effect! Non-newtonian fluids! Rate of absorption!

That being said, Cornstarch + Water = Science!
Rolled Oats + Water = Ridiculous Mess!

2. The weirdest things become science.
Hollie and I talk about science a lot at home. She works at a natural science museum and I work at a research university, so that's not terribly surprising. What's weird is how LG interprets and recontextualizes the very word "science." For instance, every month we get a calendar page from her daycare listing special events. And every month, the calendar page goes missing for a week because she carries it around the house, proclaiming that we can't have it, because, "it's my science! I need it... for science."

This, it should be said, is a great answer to every question, ever.

3. Goggles become an every day accessory.

Because science can strike at any time.

4. Your toddler schools your friends regarding prehistoric life.
What follows is a conversation between LG and a few friends who came to visit last week.

Adult #1: "What's your favorite dinosaur, LG?"
LG: "I like triceratops, or maybe T-rex."
Adult #2: "That's cool. I think my favorite dinosaur is the pterodactyl."
LG: "..."
Adult #1: "Yeah! Pterodactyls are great dinosaurs, don't you think!"
LG: "No. Not a dinosaur. That's a flying reptile."

Boom. Roasted.

5. Because acid/base neutralization isn't the only reaction you get when you mix vinegar and baking soda (and Kool-Aid powder).

Because. SCIENCE!

Status Update: Two Months After Mega Baby

I didn't write about this when G2 was born, possibly because having two kids dramatically reduced my capacity to do anything but take care of two kids, but our son was a big newborn. Not scary big, but big. Nine pounds, three ounces--90th percentile-big.

Interestingly, we were given no indication during Hollie's pregnancy that this was the case (a marked contrast to LG's time in utero). He measured right-on-the-money average at every single checkup; until the day he was to be born, when a concerned nurse suggested a last-minute ultrasound to check if he might be on the large side. One scan later, she estimated his weight at 9 lbs, 6 oz; remarkably close to the truth, given how inaccurate full-term ultrasounds usually are.

All of that said, he didn't look big. When you compare pictures of LG and G2 at one-day old, there's not much difference.

Yeah, so I see some differences now, but in the first 24 hours, I would've sworn it was the same kid.

Fast forward two months, and they still look remarkably similar. I'd often wondered whether or not my kids would resemble each other, mostly because my brothers and I didn't (at least not when we were kids. Now that we're all bald, there's no doubt we're related.)

And that brings us to his two-month checkup. Four shots, one oral vaccine, and couple of measurements. For all his initial bigness, and as much as he seems bigger that I remember LG being, he's nearly average.

For those of you who don't speak metric, that's 12 lbs 1 oz, or 58th percentile. 

Similarly, his length is 23 1/2 inches, for 53rd percentile.

And for all the other milestones that matter, things are right on track. One thing I don't remember from when LG was an infant was how quickly certain things happen. For instance, one day G2 wasn't tracking faces, and the next day he was. One day he didn't really grab things, and the next day he could. I remember being aware of transitions with LG in a way that I'm not with G2, and I don't know whether or not the in-between spots were in my imagination.

Or maybe he's transitioning from one milestone to the next while I'm watching his sister. He's only been around two months, and they've already worked out the art of misdirection.

Who? Me?

Sibling Sixth Sense

Mama filling in for Matt since he got tired of me bugging him to write the next post. It's been a little more than 8 weeks since our family welcomed G2 and we're in the swing of things now. A lot of fun stuff is going on with G2, but what I really want to preserve for posterity is the relationship that is developing between my first and second (and last) born.

Obviously, at this point, the relationship is a little one-sided. G2 is a bit preoccupied with holding his head up and sleeping 18 hours a day, so networking with the under-3 set in the house is not high on his list of priorities. LG more than makes up for it. She's very, very verbal. Very. This makes temper tantrums particularly trying; and bargaining for simple things like eating food and sleeping to stay alive becomes the better part of one's day. That aside, the fact that this girl can talk makes life more interesting around the ol' Griffatolo homestead. Conversations are more lively with non sequiturs peppering the landscape like happy little trees. We have 20 minute jam sessions where we are introduced to songs centering around unicorns whatever inanimate object is closest the toddler. And, we know exactly who ate paint and who hit who and who had a time-out at school. (Taylor, I'm looking at you...) But, by far, the best thing right now is when LG talks to and for her brother.

These interactions of several different varieties:

1. Machine-gun Greetings
These may be the most annoying in the moment, but really show the depth of a toddler's love for her brother (and misunderstanding of the limitations of infants.) LG will wake up in the morning and the second she sees her brother, it's a loop of: "Good morning, G2* Good morning, G2. Good morning, G2. etc." all the while gently poking him in his alarmingly soft head.

*She does not call him G2. That would be weird. She has a nickname for him that will embarrass the heck out of him when he's older. Score.

There are variations: "I love you, G2. I love you, G2. I love you, G2. etc." "How you doing, G2? How you doing, G2? How you doing, G2? etc." "Are you hungry, G2? Are you hungry, G2? Are you hungry, G2? etc." Each time the phrase is uttered, it is spoken with the same cadence with only the briefest pause between each phrase.

As a parent, I want her to feel like she's being heard. I want to validate her feelings for her brother. I want to reward her for kindness towards her kin. Mostly, I just want her to stop repeating herself and give me a moment's peace. So I respond, "Good morning, LG.*" Oh, the wrath! "I WAS TALKING TO G2!" If I gently try to explain that G2 cannot answer her because he can't talk, but I'm sure he would like to wish her good morning/love her back/report on the status of his hunger, it only fans the tiny flames of her rage. 

*I do not call her LG.  That would be weird. 

2. Nanny, Nanny Boo Boo
This type of interaction might be my favorite. It seriously makes me laugh every time. With the exception of the above example, LG has figured out pretty quickly that G2 cannot do all the things she can do. He can't eat the things she eats, he can't go on the potty like she can, he can't paint a picture like she does. And she sweetly lets him know about it every chance she gets. Each meal, poor G2 is reminded that he cannot have sausage because he doesn't have any teeth. He is reminded he can't go potty because he'll fall in. He can't paint because he can't hold a paint brush. Occasionally, she follows it up with "you can when you're bigger," but it's perfunctory. She seems to take some joy in reminding him of his infantile shortcomings.

It should be noted that G2 is taking it all in stride. I am, however, not looking forward to the day when the English language no longer eludes him and he doesn't take too kindly to a big sister telling him what he can and cannot do. But, as a good friend likes to me remind me, that's a problem for Future Hollie.  Sucker.

3. What a Baby Wants
This is the most frequent interaction. LG knows what G2 wants. She knows what he's thinking and feeling and is kind enough to share his inner workings with us, her clueless parents. It's helpful. How else would I know that G2 really wants a cookie or that his favorite Beatle is Ringo? (True stories...) Some helpful lists in case we call on you to babysit and LG is not around to translate:

Things G2 wants (according to LG)
cookies
to watch Wonder Pets
Play Doh
to not be held by Mama so Mama can play with LG
stuffed caterpillar
books (read by LG of course)
pancakes
milk (so LG can watch TV while Mama's busy feeding him)
bouncy seat
milkshake
to be rocked furiously in his swing by a toddler

Things G2 likes (according to LG)
trees
singing (by LG)
Ringo Starr
Strawberry Shortcake toothbrushes

She also has a long list of things G2 doesn't like. However, I think she cheats on that one because she just waits until he cries and calls out the obvious stuff- being his car seat, sun in his eyes, loud singing from a toddler. Pfftt, I can do that.

I am very much looking forward to G2 eventually holding his own in these conversations. Though, I suppose, he may never learn to talk. Why would he need to? He'll be happy enough brushing his teeth with his Stawberry Shortcake toothbrush to"Octopus's Garden" after his dinner of cookies and milkshakes.

I'll show you who's too little...