Magical Mickey Makes May Memories

Since it is almost September, I must get back to playing catch-up on the blog, or it will be Christmas before I even realize it.  So, back to May and my parents' trip to Florida, and our family pilgrimage to the land that Walt built.  Bob and I took the boys to Disney despite our intentions to leave them behind in November, and it was such a success, I was eager to do it again before they turned three and cost us an arm and a leg.  

I'm so glad that we took them with Grandma & Papa Joe.  They had a fantastic time (all five of them).  Mom kept telling me how she'd watched all of the things she was seeing on the Wonderful World of Disney when she was a kid.  My dad actually rode a coupe of rides, and we even used his little cart as a fast pass onto the Peter Pan ride (thanks, Papa Joe).

Here are the happy pair, ready for the day to begin.  We got a little later start than we'd hoped.  Since I've married Bob, I've learned to be on time and early to things by planning in adequate time to accomplish given tasks.  I did not learn this growing up, and sometimes, when going places with my parents, I forget that they have a philosophy that leans more toward "things will start when I get there." So, for my slightly neurotic self, I was concerned that we weren't in the gate at the park until 10 a.m.  (My mom's theme park plan was always be there when the doors open and make them kick you out when they close.  You have to get your money's worth).  Anyway, despite our delayed start that was even more delayed by a broken monorail, we were able to do everything we wanted to do and even managed to stay late enough for the kids to sleep through the fireworks.

The boys are getting so much better at listening to us that I am considering retiring their monkey backpack/leashes.  I have them in reserve as a threat, but especially in large groups, they tend to stick close and follow instructions much better than they used to.  The double stroller works great.  Every once in a while, I wish I had an in-line three seater, but when necessary, we either share the back seat, or the odd man out rides on the handle/cup holder area.  With Papa Joe's scooter, the boys were in heaven.  At one point during the day, Michael was standing in front of him asleep.  They definitely all wanted a turn riding with Papa Joe.

Michael probably spent the most time directing Papa Joe's cart.  Michael, in general, is all about grandpas, and he was delighted to have a special seat with Papa Joe.

Last time we went to Disney, James threw a fit trying to get to the castle (we, of course, had no idea that it was the desire to see the castle that was causing us problems).  This time, he was patient, but still very excited to see the "Mickey Mouse Castle."

I included this picture to demonstrate my family's irritation with my constant need to chronicle our lives with my little camera.  Take the picture and let's get to it!

Our first stop of the day were the magic carpets.  I love that we all got cars near each other so that I could get a couple of great pictures of us.

Now that we're airborne, Aunt Faith decides to smile.  She doesn't do mornings.

I think despite the fact that my dad swears his favorite ride was the haunted mansion (a.k.a. the Happy Halloween ride at our house), that his true favorite was a toss up between the corny jokes on the Jungle Cruise and the Country Bear Jamboree.  The boys refer to the Country Bear Jamboree as the Papa Joe songs.  Michael does love those country bears.

Perhaps the highlight of the day for the boys was a photo op with Jessie and Woody.  They weren't too keen on the line.  James broke ranks about five times and made a dash to the characters.  I'm pretty sure the kids were ready to pack up and go back to Toy Story land with them.  They did keep asking "Where is Buzz?"

This picture is a tragic look at bad parenting.  The boys were tall enough to ride everything at Magic Kingdom except for Space Mountain and Thunder Mountain.  Bob and I debated about taking them on this ride.  We decided it would be okay.  Getting on the ride, I was too big for the bar to go low enough for the boys to be secured, so the entire ride, I worried that my big butt and love for cheeseburgers was going to result in the loss of one or both of my boys in the waters of Splash Mountain.  The brilliance of this picture is in the facial expressions of the boys.  It's a little difficult to see Ryan's face, but if you look closely, you see pure, unadulterated fear.  Michael looks pretty nervous, but the true gem is James with his hands clasped over his ears (for some reason all of our kids do this when they are scared).  We should be locked up for this decision, but the kids LOVED it.  They talk about the "big splash" all the time, and they never talk about being scared, so I guess we did okay.

Winnie the Pooh is a big player in our world.  The boys were so excited to meet Tigger.  Bouncy, Bouncy.

While a little hesitant at first, they all went in for the Tigger hugs.

A Tigger is a wonderful thing.

Ryan takes a turn at the wheel.  I'm pretty sure this face shows how much fun Papa Joe was having.

Ryan still loves Small World.  The boys were starting to wear down, but they got a little lunch and a little ice cream and kept on going.

One of the biggest players in our house during the spring was Sword in the Stone.  The boys were so excited to get a chance to try to pull out the sword.  They weren't very excited to have to do it quickly and share with other potential kings.  In the middle of the afternoon, this being Florida, it rained for a bit (as we were standing in line for the "drive cars" ride - huge tragedy).  It led us indoors to the Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor and the Buzz Lightyear Ride.  

Here Daddy does his best to mop the floor with Aunt Faith.  I must admit that I didn't even really try to hit the targets.  After the Buzz ride, I had camera fatigue and quit chronicling our adventure.  It was a wonderful time.  We stayed until 10 p.m., then said goodbye to Papa Joe, Grandma, and Aunt Faith and headed home.  They stayed a couple more days in Orlando and had a blast.  We are looking forward to next year when they come back.

Ryan, Who Speaks for All

Our sweet, wonderful youngest child Ryan is our biggest boy now.  A mere 5 lbs 5 oz when he was born, he's now 41.25 inches and 37 lbs.  He is built solidly with muscular thighs and not much paunch. Ryan is a big kid with a tender heart.  He has unfortunately inherited his mother's grace and is constantly spending quality time getting reacquainted with the ground.  I think it has a lot to do with the fact that he doesn't pay attention to where he is going rather than complete clumsiness.

Since birth, Ryan has been our most curious child.  I remember trying to feed him in the NICU and having trouble getting his attention because he would rather look around and see what was going on.  He is constantly asking questions.  He wants to know where, when, how, what, and why for anything and everything.  He asks questions he already knows the answer to, and when I repeat the question to him, he will answer it himself.  He cracks me up with his strange little quirks.  When he doesn't want to eat something, he'll tell me "I can't like it."  It's not his fault that avocado is yuck, he just can't like it.

Ryan is definitely my baby.  He likes attention.  If someone else hurts a knee or an elbow, Ryan is right there to claim the same injury and specialized attention.  He is most likely to fake a cry after a fall or a loss of a toy, etc.  He loves to be one of the gang and special all at once, and he manages to do it with guileless cunning.  

Ryan is always on the go.  He is the least likely child to be found watching TV.  He is always playing and loves to be right in the middle of things.  He plays well with both his brothers, and when one of them is upset because Ryan is playing with a toy that he wants, Ryan will usually hand the toy off to his brother because he hates to see either of them sad.

He is always coming up with new phrases and interesting ways of saying things.  His newest quirk is to say "mine."  For example, "Can I have mine toy?  Where is mine shoe?  Is this mine daddy's car?"  He has always said "my," but I guess the mine is too tempting.  Another favorite word of late is "almost."  When you tell him it's time for bed or time to take a rest, he says "almost."  After noticing how often he uses the term, I did a self examination of our daily conversations, and I'm pretty sure he got the almost from me.

All of my three men are great little loves.  They all will sit on my lap, cuddle up in the bed with me, and  come and give me lots of love both solicited and unprompted.  Ryan is probably my biggest love bug.  He is always grabbing me for a hug.  The boys like to scream "wake up" when you pretend to sleep, but I've taught Ryan to wake me up with kisses.  He will give me lots of air kisses and then I have to "wake up."

While James and Michael will sit and watch a movie or a show with me and snuggle up for a long time, Ryan is much too busy for that.  We have recently unzipped the crib tents (we still like having the option of the zip), and Ryan is always the first out of bed.  He bounces into our room and proceeds to jump all over the bed, sit on my hair, play a baseball game with "mine daddy" on the PS3, all before 7 a.m.  For those of you who know me at all, you know morning is not my best time, but obviously, it's Ryan's.  Usually, he's not too far ahead of his brothers in jumping into our bed.  One day last week, I had two tigers and a dinosaur fighting on top of me while I tried to gain precious moments of sleep.  I sometimes wonder if it's possible to be a victim of too much testosterone.

Ryan is a tiny version of Bob.  He like to listen to Bruce, watch baseball (in fact, we are starting to watch some pre-season football, and Ryan wants to know where is his baseball), obsess about Star Wars, use the "force," and is most often the child who will pay attention to whatever it is Daddy is up to.  He checks the mail with Daddy, and any time the car moves, he likes to be inside it and go somewhere.

Ryan is our first child to actually use the potty.  I have not the stamina to spend the time necessary to convince all three of our children to use the potty.  Ryan has perfected the pee in the frog potty and has moved on to peeing standing up.  He doesn't do every pee in the toilet, but he is starting to tell me when he needs to go, so I think it is only a matter of time before he's fully trained.  The last two nights, he has pooped on the potty as well.  He is doing such a great job that I try to focus on him and not think about the hours Michael will sit with no progress and the refusal of James to even think about coming near the potty.

Two handsome Ryans for the price of one.  Ry is an effective iPad/Phone user, but he is usually the third man on the totem pole for the use of an internet connected device.  He likes to take pictures and to have his picture taken.  He is very fond of the library, the beach, the splash park (or the water park depending on what he's decided it's called), and the zoo.

Ryan is our biggest talker.  He is always willing to deliver a large quantity of information.  He willing rats out himself and his brothers with honesty and regularity.  He will answer questions for his brothers so that they don't have to talk.  Bob is always asking him "is your name James/Michael?"  He always says no and proceeds to answer whatever question was intended.  Ryan is also an independent young man with a taste for go-gurt popsicles and chips.  He is always able to help himself to whatever he wants.  He is a master of invention and ingenuity.  He is nothing if not resourceful and self-sufficient and a truly fantastic little man.

Michael, Who Is the Boss

My sweet little Michael was less than six pounds when he was born.  Now, he's 40.25 inches and 35 pounds.  He loves to take his clothes off and declare "I'm naked."  Thankfully, he has limited this nudity to our home for the present.

At a year old, he was so sweet and cute.  I'm not sure when his stint as toy terrorist began, but recently, he has gotten much better at sharing and playing together with his brothers.  He does still like to deliver instructions to any and all comers.  He is very adept at repeating my instructions to his brothers.  He likes to be in charge and direct what's going on, and occasionally, he actually will get his two cohorts to comply.  Although he is baby B, he's definitely our alpha dog.

Michael is a more cautious person than most.  He likes to be prepared before jumping in.  For the first part of the summer, he wouldn't get into the pool without a five minute warm up period, but now that he's comfortable with it, he jumps in immediately.  When attempting something new, it's best to let him go last so that he can see what is going on and prepare himself.  When my mom came in May, she accidentally drug him behind her in the waves at the beach.  The next time we went to the beach, he was very hesitant, but after many assurances and some one on one beach time, it's one of his favorite places to go.  He is a good library listener (although he can be persuaded to follow his brothers into mischief), and he loves to read.

Michael is the world's second slowest eater (Aunt Faith holds the record for most annoy consumption of sustenance).  He will sit for hours eating one strawberry after the other, chewing it fully, and then moving on to the next one.  He is willing to sit on the potty and will stay there for a long time if necessary.  He has pooped on the potty, but usually he has spent a minimum of 15 minutes waiting before he will fill the frog potty and make his tinkle music.  He does have some of his mother's strange OCD tendencies such as eating only one item at a time on his plate (why mix food groups, no need to get those tastebuds confused) and needing random things to be orderly - he lines up all kinds of toys for hours on end.

My sly fox loves to sing.  He can whip out a theme song, umizoomi song, even a song from Yo Gabba Gabba that he hasn't seen in months.  He can recite his ABCs, recognize almost all of his letters, and count to at least fourteen.  He is amazing in what he picks up and retains.  In order to hold a meaningful conversation with Michael, you must be familiar with the lexicon of Umizoomi.  He will recite entire plots, pepper his car rides with references to various Umi streets, and demand access to his "super shapes."  I'd expound on all of this for those of you unfamiliar with the joys of the trio of tiny heroes, but I'm sure that Michael would do a much better job.

Michael is so used to being the child in trouble, that he often apologizes to his brothers when they are supposed to be apologizing to him.  In the last few weeks, though, he has been much better.  You can see that when he gets frustrated or angry, his first instinct is to bite, but he refrains and instead does an odd version of the Tarzan gorilla sniff.  I guess whatever works.  I wish that Ryan would take a page from Michael's book.  We had gone several months free of bite marks, and now, poor Michael and James are often decorated with the circular wound associated with Ryan's new phase.  I guess my laid back kid decided to get aggressive and my aggressive kid decided to relax a little.

Of all the fighting that is done between the boys (which is not as often as it sometimes seems), Michael and James throw down the most.  The two of them will go at it until there is a clear winner or both of them have been redirected.  I know that boys fight, but I do wish they weren't so violent about it.  They do manage to work together as a team very well, despite a little fighting.

Recently, we have started leaving the crib tents unzipped in an effort to transition into a more grown up way of life (for me, this just means that our bed is invaded at least an hour earlier than before and a lot of toys have moved from the playroom to their room to encourage them to stay inside).  At nap time, we often have to zip the kids in as the daylight provides them with adequate light to wreak havoc on their room.  The second day of our zipless experiment, Bob and I heard a strange clinking noise and a very polite exchange which involved the boys taking turns without any encouragement from us.  Bob got up to check it out, and the three of them had found a curtain rod I had "hidden" in the closet and were using it to hit the fan like a piñata.  One broken light fixture, a cut lip, and three zips in a crib tent later, both James and Ryan were blaming Michael for being the mastermind with no objections from the accused.

I love this picture of Michael.  It is a face a mother loves to kiss.  He is a great cuddler.  He will sit next to you and watch a movie or take over my mahjong game, flash this smile and get whatever he wants.  He is constantly referring to himself in third person.  I think that "me" just doesn't give him the individuality he craves.  He is my mimic.  He praises himself, says things, and does things a lot like I do.  When we pick up toys, he is careful to sort things into the proper baskets, and when I was so bold as to put the Toy Story hot wheels with the Cars toys, he promptly removed them because they didn't belong in the Cars box.  What can I say, when he's right, he's right.  

In public without the familiarity of his brothers, he is painfully shy.  Bob took him to a baseball game, and said that he wouldn't even look at the nice ladies trying to visit with him and such.  At home, he is in his element and very friendly.  An artist Bob works with stopped by the other day, and Michael latched on to his daughter.  The two of them played for hours, held hands, he called her Dora, she called him Boots (I'm sure this just fanned the flame of his desire to watch Dora the Explorer, but that show is not allowed in this house - the long pauses waiting for the kids to respond to the TV drives me crazy), and surprisingly, he seemed eager to follow her lead.  I guess he doesn't mind giving up a little power for the ladies.

I think that Michael is a wonderful kid with a sweet heart.  He likes to learn, play puzzles, he can entertain himself for hours (his biggest fights with his brothers occur over them trying to play with toys that he has been dominating for longer than they would prefer).  He is usually the last out of the bed in the morning and will admit that he is scared to climb out of his bed even though he can do it 99 times out of 100 without hurting himself.  If you catch him in the right mood, he will follow along with the gang or lead it into horse broom races, reckless jumping on the bed, and swimming/bathing for literally hours.  I love it when he comes up and holds my hand.  He is always quick to tell me that he loves me accompanied by a great hug and kiss and declare me a princess.  I'm a lucky Mommy.

James, Who Takes to His Bed

In June, the boys turned three.  I can't believe that they are already so grown up.  It seems like yesterday that they were tiny and helpless, and now they are constantly in motion wanting to do things "by myself."  I know that I am still behind on the chronicle of our last few months, but I thought it was worthwhile to insert a little bit of current cuteness.

When the boys were born, I bought these letters thinking that every year we'd take a picture with them to see how much they have grown.  In this picture, James is three weeks old. At the three year old check up, he was 34 pounds and 40.25 inches which puts him above the 95th percentile for height, and we call him little man without a trace of irony.  

Little Man at a year old.  Bob showed James a picture of himself at around this age the other day, and he asked James what happened to all his hair.  He patted his head and said "it's right here, Dad."

My two year old handsome man with his coordinating pacifier.  Seeing this picture makes me remember how much James loved to rub the string on his nose.  Not long after this picture was taken, we ditched the pacifier tether, but he is still never too far from his "pah fire."

I think this is my favorite letter picture of James so far.  I love how his little eye is peeking through with his big grin.  James is all about fun.  He still loves racing, horses, horse racing, cars, and watching toy cars race on youtube.  He also is a fan of dinosaurs and watching dinosaur stuff on youtube.  He is my most technologically advanced guy.  He has figured out the iPhone/iPad like a pro.  He went through a phase of being completely addicted to Temple Run - he could outscore me to an embarrassing extent.

 

In this picture, I see a whole lot of Cain genes.  I don't know why but when I look at him, James sometimes reminds me so much of my dad.  I find it kind of cool because he's named after his two other grandpas, so to look a little like my dad seems fitting.  His frame is all Newhouse.  Kathy tells me how much his physique reminds her of Bob at the same age.  He definitely has wide feet like Bob, lacks a caboose that will hold up his pants, ribs that you can count in the front and back of him, and a fair hint of mischief as well.  

James is my digger.  Today at the park, he had so much dirt on him that it was smeared on his forehead like Rambo.  He loves animals of all kinds.  He will watch a bug for hours.  Spiders, toads, and lizards are great subjects to study.  He adores going to the zoo and the beach.  Last time we went to the beach, I'd wash the sand off of him so we could leave, and he'd roll around in it again before I could get him into the car.  During one of his trips to the ocean to wash off, we saw a great crab in the surf (I was wishing I had my bucket and could take him home for dinner).  James still talks about that crab.  He is my biggest fan of Wild Kratts.  Lately, Ryan has assigned him the favorite animal of elephant, but I'm pretty sure he loves the black rhino the most as I hear about it quite often.

This sweet face belies the evil genius that resides inside.  I would say that James might be a touch strong willed.  As I spent 20 minutes locked in the bathroom with him last night as he screamed and pounded on the door vowing to steal the robot toy Michael earned for pooping on the potty, I might not be as objective as I should be.  He is my only child who has yet to pee on the potty.  Kathy says that he peed for her, but if a tree falls in the forest, I didn't hear it, so it doesn't count.  Most of the time, he refuses to sit, but tonight, he decided to try for a while.  I am keeping hope alive, but as he is the instigator of the frog potty races, the jury is still out.  James at his most diabolical at the library.  That boy loves books, hates the library.  He enjoys story time, but he wants to be part of the story.  I am so grateful to the librarians at the University Park Library that they love my boys despite their rowdiness.  Miss Kim and James are great friends.  I'm pretty sure he'd go home with her and only send me postcards.  James knows exactly what he needs to do for us to have to leave the library.  If he decides that he's not into library time, he will do what it takes to get us back into our "umicar."  One day, I took him to the bathroom, spanked him twice, gave stern talkings, and finally had to leave.  He was not upset in the least.  As previously stated - genius.

This handsome boy is not always crafty.  He is genuinely kind, tender hearted, frightened of toy thievery committed by Michael, and so sensitive.  He is my little love.  He's a mama's boy, and I'm not complaining one bit.  If something happens that causes him to feel upset in any way, he will grab his blanket, pacifier, and my hand then head to my bed.  He crawls in, pats the mattress, covers up, tells me to take my hair out of the clip and get under the covers, then lays there until he is ready to come out.  It reminds me of an antebellum lady getting the vapors and taking to her bed.  I love it.  He's such a character.  In the mornings, he climbs into bed with me, grabs my phone, and curls up for a cuddle and some youtube.  I think it's one of the best parts of my day.  

As mentioned before on this blog, our family is slightly obsessed with Star Wars.  He is my Han Solo, loves stormy-troopers and robots of all kinds.  We have a bucket full of new Star Wars toys for potty rewards.  This model was a birthday gift from Aunt Sue & Uncle JP.  James has loved it to death, and Aunt Sue promised to look at the age limits on the next gift so that I don't have to buy a hot glue factory.

In the last few weeks, James has started talking.  He is our least talkative child, but if you find his "jam" he will give you quite an earful.  There is a Star Wars shooting game on the iPhone that he loves (shocking, I know), and a couple of weeks ago, we were video chatting with my parents and he kept yelling "I got one, Grandma!  I got one."  Made my mom's day, and James - a mutual admiration society.  Bob thought he was pretty silent until he saw him watch an Umizoomi episode.  He is most engaged in the antics of Millie, Geo, & Bot.  He loves to sing.  Life is a Highway is his signature tune, but he can also jam to the first 30 seconds of Bruce Springsteen's "We Take Care of Our Own," the Indiana Jones theme song, and he is a very good hummer of the Darth Vader Imperial March.  James is also some what of a clothes horse like his Grandpa Robin and Uncle Zach.  He likes to look nice and feels good in new outfits.  I brought this shirt home.  James is my hardest to fit (he's so skinny) clothing wise, so I had him try on the outfit.  He called it his "grandpa shirt" (it's very similar to the style that Jim and Joe wear for nicer occasions) and refused to take it off.  Even the on picture day, he wore it all day long refusing to take it off and save it for church.

This shot sums up the joys of brotherhood.  James is always putting an arm around his brothers.  Lately, not only do they come to me for comfort, they hug each other.  It is the sweetest thing ever to watch them together.  From the womb, I've told these little men that they are not only brothers but best friends, and they certainly are.  It touches my heart beyond measure.