Got Milk?

This summer, Ephram started playing a new game.
In this game, he turns into the milk in our milk box.

He usually rings the doorbell,
Climbs all the way in,
Lowers the top as far as it will go,
And waits for me to pretend like I don't know he's there.

It's one of the cutest things he has ever done.
I love him.

When You're Three

At three years old, you might…

Invent silly games all on your own and become fully and completely, blissfully immersed in them for several minutes before you realize your mom is taking pictures of you.

Play so hard that sometimes you just lay down right on the floor with a pillow from the couch because you are too tired to go on.  And maybe you might also put down a couch pillow for your daddy and one for your mommy on each side of your own.  Because you still like them when you're three.

Get so excited about those little things printed on the back of cereal boxes, cracker boxes and macaroni and cheese boxes that your mom decides to indulge you by cutting them out.  And maybe you might learn how to write the first letter of your first name and your last name.  Maybe you might create a signature that consists of just your initials.  All on your own.

Be so silly.  So very silly.  That somehow you end up in an epic battle with your daddy, who takes on the name "bad guy" for a short time so that Heman Skywalker can use the power and the force to take him down.

Climb like a monkey, on everything and everywhere.  And be really cute while you're doing it.

Have a mommy who's completely infatuated with you.  A mommy and a daddy that know you are the cutest, smartest, funniest, sweetest three year old to ever walk the earth.

Look Who's Typing His Name

One day, Ephram said, "Mah - ee, mah - ee, mah - ee" until he grabbed my attention.
Then he showed me my iPad, which had a search box open.
The strangest thing happened at this point.
He said, "E," and then found and touched the E.
Then he said, "P", and then found and touched the P.
Next came H,
Then R,
A,
M.
And then a super duper big smile.
(Which I followed up with a big smile and bear hug.)

When did he learn how to spell his name?
When did he even learn letters?

Ephram's speech delay means that he can't tell us a lot of things he wants too.
We've always known that his delay is completely expressive.
His comprehension is great.
But I've been surprised at what I've learned since this day.

He started typing his name everywhere.
And then he typed Daddy, with just a little help from me on the 2 D's and the Y.
Next came Mommy.
And then a 1234 added to the end of everything.

I started asking him to point out letters.
And learned that he actually knows many beginning sounds, too.

And this all started in March, just barely over 3 years old.

Ephram is definitely a pattern guy.
He has cracked all of my passcodes and short passwords just by matching the pattern I make.
And he can copy other patterns too.

More and more people have been saying,
"Wow, he's starting to talk!"
I am glad more people understand him.
At the same time I can't help thinking,
"He always has talked!  You just couldn't understand him!"
And then I remember that all of the comments really mean
People are starting to understand him.
Progress has been made.

And I am glad for this big reminder that his speech delay is not a comprehensive language delay.
Not only does he understand,
But I believe he's actually started to read.
His head is full of things he wants to communicate.
We've had some humongous fits lately when Mommy doesn't understand.

This boy has big things to say,
And someday we'll all understand them.

Grandpa Boyce in the Morning

My kids love all of their grandparents.  They are very lucky to have grandparents that relate to them individually and with real interest.  They love each of their grandparents for different reasons.

One of the things they love about my dad is the way that he plays.  He gets down on the floor, he swings, he climbs the trees (even if that's just holding onto the branch and/or putting a foot on the trunk.)  He builds towers and hoists them up on his shoulders.  All of my kids know that he will do this before he even does.  It's just one of those things - an energy that kids pick up on and understand.

I love watching my kids play with my dad.  Here are some pictures from a morning where Ephram was playing with him and an egg-laying chicken toy.  My dad gave Ephram a piggy back ride and then let Ephram think that he was going to do the same for his grandpa. 

We really enjoyed my parents' visit to Washington this spring!

His Shiner

My Remy is an acrobat.
He has the greatest ideas for feats of climbing, balancing and tumbling.
Sometimes he misses.
And in March he finally missed really good.

He was sitting at the table eating.
Lunch, I think.
Maybe dinner.
And his best friend, Macie, was sitting in her high chair next to him.
Eating too.

And there was this great big Mickey Mouse beach ball on the floor between them.
So what better to do?
He just had to put on a show for his sister.

I was doing the dishes.
And even with water running at full force
I heard him gasp,
Just before the crash.

My little acrobat had stepped down from his chair onto that ball.
Holding nothing.
I just know he was planning to show Macie how he can ride a ball around the room.
Like Curious George does in one of their favorite books.
(Thanks Curious George.)
But the second that he stepped on that ball -
I know you aren't going to believe this,
My three year old certainly didn't anticipate this -
It rolled.

And poor Acrobat Remy didn't roll with it.
I saw his hand grab out to catch something,
But nothing was there.
I wish I had been.
I've seen that moment in my head a hundred times since.

Instead, he landed in the perfect spot for a wonderfully terrible shiner.
His little eye hit right on the screw cap cover at the bottom of Macie's high chair.
And he hit it with enough force that,
On top of the swelling and bruising to be expected in such things,
He had a small, bleeding cut too.
It was really more of an abrasion where a couple of layers of skin had come of.
Poor, poor Remy.

Oh I felt so bad for my Acrobat Remy.
For once, I didn't even think about the camera at all that day.
His cry was much too sad.
He typically never cries longer than 3 minutes.
That day he cried until he fell to sleep.
(That is always how I know that he is really, truly hurt.)
I held him the whole time.
Despite the fact that my little Macie was alone in her highchair,
Worried and crying too.
I tried to make up for that later.

Ah, where is the cloning machine that will make two of me?
Or the time machine that would allow me to go back and be there for that second or third child, too?
But I digress...

Remy's eye was quite swollen the first two days,
Enough to push his lid a little closed.
And for those days he was pretty weepy.
And then all was back to normal,
Except an ugly bruise.

These pictures are about a week after the incident.
The gash is nice and ugly,
And some coloration has started to appear.

Now, it's been more than three months and his bruising is all gone.
But he still has a tiny, shiny little scar next to his eye.
I keep hoping that it will fade away for him.
And I keep holding my breath for the acrobat's next missed step!

A Little Macaroni

I have a picky eater in my family.
A very, very picky eater.
What he will eat varies from time to time.
He will eat something over and over for months,
And then one day he will throw a fit over the thought of consuming it.

Right now its:
Granola bars
Breakfast biscuits (kind of like granola bars)
String cheese
Grated cheese
Eggs
Chicken nuggets
Crackers of all kinds
Cereals of most kinds
Oatmeal occasionally
Bananas
Grapes
Peas
Breads
Chips
Spaghetti
Spaghetti-O's
French fries
Baked potatoes
French toast
Pancakes
Frozen waffles
Pizza

And...

Macaroni and Cheese

And that is, seriously, all my child will eat.
It could be worse,
But is seriously lacking of more fruits and especially, vegetables.

He will also consume some certain baked goods: donuts, cookies, cakes, cupcakes and... ice cream.
And M&M's.

He is very specific about how he will take the food.
It cannot be broken.
It cannot have air bubbles in it.
And he must be given the opportunity to prepare it.

Ephram starts every day asking me for macaroni and cheese.
He would literally live off of macaroni and cheese if I let him.

He really enjoys making macaroni and cheese.
He watches the water come to a boil,
Takes the cheese out of the box,
Pours the pasta in the pot,
And then tells me how many minutes to put on the timer.
He knows that mommy does all of the hot stirring.
Because everyone is big enough to do something,
(Thank you Daniel Tiger)
And Ephram is big enough to do cold stirring.

While we wait for the 7-13 minutes to pass,
He gets the butter out of the fridge
And I get the milk.
And he tells me this every time.

He stacks all of the ingredients together in the middle of the stove,
We get out the colander,
And wait for the last minute.
That's when our countdown begins.

After I drain out the water,
Ephram puts in the butter.
He always tells me,
"Ephram likes butter!"
And as I hand him a few slices to put in the pot,
He sniffs them each and says,
"Mmmm, good butter."
But it sounds like this,
"Eeeemmmm, guh buddy!"
Then he shakes the cheese powder down in it's packet,
I open it,
And he pours it in,
While I pour in some milk.
Then he stirs it.
All by himself.
When he is done, he tells me so.
And I come over and say,
"How hungry are you today?"
And he holds up 10 fingers and says,
"Ephram ten hungry!"
And then we dramatically fill up a bowl to the appropriate level.
He usually eats 2/3 of the pot.
(Because in between our macaroni days, he holds off and eats less of other foods.)

Then,
Happier every time,
He carries his bowl to the table,
And eats it.
With a big spoon.
In no time flat.

Yes,
This boy likes macaroni.
He used to like my homemade macaroni.
But now it's not macaroni unless it's Kraft.
I'm hoping that will change someday.

But because I've learned that he will actually cease eating until he gets what he wants,
I'm no longer trying to force his tastes to change.
He'll survive.
On his macaroni days, which come every 2-3 days, he is so happy.

The Visitor

Macie's sleeping patterns are a dream.
Sure - she's not that easy to put down.
But once she goes to sleep,
She is usually out until the morning.
I often wake up to giggles,
And babbling,
And the crinkling noises of a mattress that is hosting a playing baby.

And for a couple of weeks,
On a few select mornings,
Squealing laughter.
Which would curiously be followed by "tickle, tickle, tickle" in another voice.

Macie had a visitor.

He would wake up,
And nothing makes me happier than knowing that
The first thing Ephram thought of upon waking was
His baby sister and
Making her happy.

One morning I caught him.
I heard a little murmured babbling from his room.
Then he tried to sneak down the hall,
Almost reaching her room,
And then he ran back really fast.
Slowing when he reached his doorway,
He hushed himself,
Picked up his step stool carefully,
And tip toed with it,
(While it frequently knocked against the wall,)
Through her door.
It was quiet for
Maybe 15 seconds.
Then I heard the best little chuckle,
And they started to talk.
A best friend, brother and sister, I'm going to love you forever kind of talk.

I was so happy,
So touched,
I just couldn't interrupt it.
(Okay, I cried a little too.)
And then, as quiet as I could,
It was my turn to sneak.
Down the stairs to the kitchen,
Where my camera sat on a counter,
Back upstairs,
And right outside her door.

He was entertaining her with a couple of toys on the crib rail,
And it was clear that he'd passed her quite a few toys too.

And then, I was caught.

So I couldn't help but take a few pictures of my princess,
So happy with her morning visitor.

I am so grateful for their relationship.
I hope that they are always close.

Remembering Bouncy

Ephram loved his bouncy seat when he was a baby.
Which was good because he spent a lot of time in it every day.
Like Macie, Ephram had pretty bad reflux.
Unlike with Macie, I did not trust my mommy instincts and insist on medication.
So every time he fed for the first four or five months of his life,
I'd love him and hold him and burp him.
And kiss him.
And then I'd put him down -
In his bouncy seat.
For 20 minutes.
It was the only way that I found to prevent the projectile spit up from erupting.
And it was a bonus to watch him kick and giggle at the sight of his little woodland friends.
The kicking would start him bouncing.
And then he'd get really excited.
He was such a cute baby.
Bouncy also provided a convenient napping location in his first months.

We put Bouncy away when Ephram was done with him.
And when Macie came home, we bought a new bouncer.
She was so very tiny and I wanted one that reclined her a little more.
And Bouncy stayed right where I had prepped him for the new baby
Before the new baby decided to change things up.

When I went through my first post-Macie purge,
Bouncy was staring right at me.
My next door neighbors had just had a baby girl,
And I thought that it was time for Bouncy to get some new love.

So I pulled him out.
I washed his cover.
And came around the corner to find this.

Still in love three years later.

I swear he remembered it on sight.
Well, that might not actually be possible.
But he did seem to know that it was his and he felt a definite affinity for his woodland friends.

So I shared my plan with my son.
I told him that a little baby next door could use Bouncy for a friend.
And that she'd talk to his woodland friends, just like he did.

He was very excited,
(Which was a bit of a relief, because this attachment was a surprise to me.)

He carefully said goodbye to each of his friends.

And walked with me next door,
Proudly delivering his friends to a new little baby.
And came home still smiling.

And I'm pretty sure that little Lula loves Bouncy as much as my Ephram did.
He's a good friend,
And takes excellent care of special, sweet babies.

Charlie and the Ephram Gate

It was a Friday afternoon.

I, foolishly, had scheduled hair cuts for both of the boys right after Charlie got out of school for the day.

Foolishly?

Yes, three kids in a salon by myself is a bit foolish.

Especially considering the fact that Charlie is autistic and hair cuts are an ordeal for him.

And Ephram is a bit unpredictable of late.

He gets really frustrated when nobody understands what he wants.

He tries and tries to use words, 

But when nobody understands him and they move forward anyway...

It can be a bit of a disaster.

I can't imagine having the language comprehension and the imagination of my 

Three year old boy,

And still be struggling to form many of the basic sounds.

To have an idea that is perfectly reasonable,

To tell Mommy or Daddy about it,

And then to tell them again - 

And again - 

And again - 

And still not be understood.

We're talking about a boy that understands everything he hears,

Recognizes letters,

And many beginning sounds,

And is even starting to spell,

But just can't speak clearly.

So I try to be understanding,

(Patience, Dzana, patience)

And gentle,

But still...

Life must go on, right?

This particular Friday?

It was just sitting there, waiting to explode.

Charlie went first.

While he was getting his hair cut,

Ephram ran out the door,

And into the parking lot,

Three times.

Macie did not go to sleep during her usual nap time.

And uncharacteristically cried,

Pretty much the whole time.

(Two molars were pushing through her gums, poor girl!)

When Charlie was done

(And had finished screaming "You're hurting me!")

It was Ephram's turn.

And Ephram was, at that moment, trying to tell me something.

I did not understand.

I have a ton of tricks for this,

But on this day they all failed.

I tried to get his interest in sitting in one of the special chairs they have.

But he just started screaming,

And then he started crying,

And the hair started flying as he started flailing.

And I had to hold my poor boy still,

With all of my might,

While his hair was cut as quickly as possible.

(Breathe, Dzana, breathe.)

Meanwhile Macie was sobbing and 

Charlie was holding an unusual conversation with the next customer.

That customer was looking at me with a look I could not interpret.

Maybe concern?

Judgement?

Understanding?

Solidarity?

Probably just a hope that her poor one year old, 

(In for her first hair cut)

Would not freak out because of the crazy lady's children.

This, my friends, is one of the days when I wondered:

"What in the H-E-double hockey sticks was I thinking

When I decided to have three kids?"

I would be ashamed to admit this.

Except I know that all mothers secretly feel this way,
Regardless of how many children we have and what challenges we face,

And it doesn't change how much we love or care for our children.

Back in the salon,

Ephram was finally done.

Just as Charlie ran and grabbed a handful of dum dums,

Without asking and before it was time,

And unwrapped one and handed it to my not-yet-one baby,

Ephram threw up.

All over him.

All over the floor.

And all over me.

And then he did it again.

Macie was still sobbing,

As she tried to bite on the lollipop...

Which probably would have soothed her poor gums.

(Quiet voices, Dzana, don't scream.)

But then her mean, mean Mom

Grabbed it away super fast.

And the sob became a wail.

So with one overstimulated and completely crazed seven year old,

One traumatized, shaking and puke-stinky three year old,

And a screaming and spit-up covered baby in a car seat,

I waited forever while my credit card
Did not go through.

It turns out that there was some suspicious activity,

That was the monthly $3 charge that always comes through from Skype,

That I've told my bank about five times...

And so they had put a stop on my card.

(Unclench your fingers, Dzana, relax.)

Thank heaven I carried another card that day.

It finally went through,

I signed the slip as fast as I could,

With the hand that was holding Ephram on my hip.

Somehow I packed all three of my kids back in the car,

Shut the door,

And said a little prayer.

And then I started to drive.

This was almost four months ago.

If you've seen my recent pictures, you may have noticed Ephram's long hair.

You could say I'm a bit traumatized,

And more than a little worried that he may have some PTSD from the experience, too.

That hair cut will have to come eventually.

Soon.

But I'm putting it off until the last possible minute.

Because I can.

Back to our Friday.

I just wanted everyone to be happy.

And it was snack time.

So I drove through McDonald's on the way home

And gave each of my boys a chocolate chip cookie.

Yes, I use food in ways I never planned to.

I'm not ashamed of that either.

And I gave Macie a bottle and she drifted off to sleep.

I may have had a McFlurry.  

(And not the snack sized one.)

When we got home, 

Both of my boys had smiles.

And I thanked God for hearing my prayer.

As I put Macie to sleep upstairs,

My boys were a little sugar crazed downstairs,

And I returned to find them playing a new game.

We call it Ephram Gate.

When Charlie was three, he went through a gate stage.

Well, this is the day that Ephram's began.

He had the most fun blocking Charlie's path

(As Charlie counted 100 times running around our circular downstairs,)

And requiring different things for passage.

Sometimes it was a "credit card" toll,

Sometimes a magic word,

Sometimes a crazy dance.

I kid you not,

They did this for 75 minutes.

They turned my face to a smile, too...
And that headache that had been forming?
Never materialized.

I had never, ever seen them cooperate so well

Or laugh so much.

The rest of our day was - 

Wonderful.

Truly.

I will never forget this day.

Life has taught me a lot lately.

More than I've asked.

And mostly that every time I survive a disaster,

I'm immediately blessed with wonder.

So, bring on the disasters.

(But... Let's keep them manageable and minor, please?  I've had enough seriousness for a few years.  Salon disasters are far preferred to those that involve hospital stays.  Thanks.)