Summertime; How We Live

This is the first post of summer, which officially began some time last night. I suspect that by the time I finish this, it will be the 22nd, but we'll see how efficient I am.

We've already had a lot of fun since Sania was born. Life changes in a lot of ways when you have a small child around, and those changes start to exponentially pile up when you've got a pair. Reid continues to be an amazing source of energy in our home, to the point that some nights (like tonight), K and I just wonder what the heck is going on. Seriously.

This picture, by the way, is from Reid's first official footrace (that is to say, not one that takes place in our house on the track formed by the route from our kitchen, hallway, family room and dining room). Visiting Pawpaw and Grammie, Reid participated in a heat open to six year olds and younger. K tells a great story about it, and I don't want to miss the nuances, so I'll see if I can get her to put it down in words. He clearly loved running and was having a super time. Thanks to whichever Atlanta Track Club member is a professional photographer; the pictures are great.

Sania had her two month checkup this week and left her pediatrician reeling. Her weight was impressive: 13 pounds and four ounces, which puts her in the 96th percentile. Her height was moreso: 24 and a quarter inches, which puts her off the mathmatical charts and leaves us no choice but to assume she is taller than ALL OTHER TWO MONTH OLDS. While Reid was often in the high percentiles for height (inexplicably, my petite wife will be responsible for two tall children, it appears), he rarely passed the 50th percentile for weight, and he continues to be a pair of bowling balls balanced on two sticks with arms flailing wildly and a mop of gorgeous hair.

Sania endured a grueling regimen of state and federally-mandated injections, and is now officially resistant to polio, diptheria, tetanus and some other medieval-sounding diseases.

Gloriously, she coos and nearly babbles now, smiling when you sing (her favorites include "You are my Sunshine," "This Little Piggie," "Last Night" by the Strokes and nearly anything by Antony and the Johnsons) and turning to the voices of her parents with expectation. She nurses more efficiently and produces with some degree of regularity something like 5 hours of sleep nightly. She loves her bath time, enjoys moonily gazing at her mobile, and performs well (although crankily) when placed on her tummy. By performs well, I mean of course that she lifts herself up and shouts, because it appears she has somehow come to believe that the ground is her enemy. It's quite cute.

Because of Reid's new experiment in bladder and bowel maintenance, life has changed in many fascinating ways. Most importantly, we're going through a lot of underpants. Lots of them. Branded underpants, of course, ranging from NASCAR briefs to Buzz Lightyear briefs. And we're washing them all the time. Since we got Sania's little rear end under control, she's going through less clothing than Reid. Reid is rediscovering his nudeness. It's not surprising to see him running around in briefs or (for a short time tonight when he refused to put on his briefs) in nothing at all. He's a kid.

The best thing about all of this is that, quite simply, he really appears to be getting the hang of the whole indoor-plumbing, toilets and bathrooms business. He likes going to the potty, and reliably turns out pee whenever he gets near one. He even likes peeing standing up (which they apparently teach in his school), though it appears his targeting computer could use a recalibration.

With regards to the non-peeing part of going potty, well, let's just say it's a work in progress. I think we've all been humiliated enough here to let that be that.

But we're definitely seeing Reid's response to Sania's arrival here in subtle ways. He's much more sensitive to change in other parts of his life. This morning, we had a little accident in the bed and I stripped him out of his clothes and started to gather everything up for a washing. He really got concerned, crying and sad, because he wanted to wear the pajamas he slept in (as we always did) while he went downstairs to get breakfast. It was non-negotiable, it seemed, as was, unfortunately, my refusal to re-dress him in pee-covered clothes. But he was inconsolable.

The other day, I got it in my head that I would get a seat to put on my bicycle for Reid to ride in. I don't know where I came up with this, and folks who know that I'm (I'll admit it) often paranoid about safety probably did a double-take when reading this paragraph. But I just thought it would be wonderful to get Reid back there riding along with me (safely strapped in a five-point harness, of course).

So last night we went to find us a seat that would go on the back of my bike, and a helmet for Reid to wear. We found the helmet, a snazzy little blue number with smiley faced raindrops and lightning bolts (bizarre, I know), which Reid loved. But we were coming up empty on the seat. Target was a no-go, and the REI was a welcome distraction (climbing wall + toddler = tons of fun), but they only carried the million-dollar model.

As we prepared to leave, Reid asked if we were going to another store. I said that the stores were all closing and it was almost our bedtime. He said, "Seat for me on daddy's bicycle?" (He was, of course, wearing the helmet, which he had placed on his head, in the helmet aisle at the Target, and hadn't relinquished since, and which made this particular question even more heart-wrenching.) "No, bud, we're going to have to get one tomorrow."

He was quiet for a bit. Then he asked "Why?" I didn't have an answer.

Today, I bought a seat, installed it on my bike and picked him up at his school. He was positively giddy, giggling through the ride and talking about his seat on daddy's bike. We had a great ride.

The photos above include Sania in a dress her grammie made, Sania cavorting with her cousin Petra, who was about to turn 6 months old at the time and Reid ringing in the summer on a slip-and-slide. Below, you can see how I spent Father's Day.

Sania Smiles; Reid Flashes

Sania was shocked -- shocked -- to see Reid running about in Buzz Lightyear briefs this afternoon. Well, we were all a little shocked. Reid's battle with the potty has been well-chronicled. Early successes were cancelled out by who knows what (though my money's on a take-no-prisoners approach at his previous daycare), and the non-stop schedule of life -- from having a sister to changing schools to family travel and on and on -- haven't helped the situation. Unbeknownst to Reid, his mom and I have scheduled a potty boot camp of our own for the week after next, once everyone can harmonize their itinerary. But none of our children are particularly well-known for sticking to schedules. Sania held on to womb-dom until the day before her scheduled induction...and then hopped out in no time flat. Reid was two weeks early, and continues to do much in life early -- early in the morning, regardless of whether anyone else is awake. So it should have come as no surprise that Reid, who has repeatedly explained to us that he'll go in the potty when he's ready, announced he was just that. He used the potty and demanded to wear his big boy pants, with Buzz Lightyear on them. By the second pair of pants of the afternoon, a dispute arose. Reid insisted that the way his mommy had put on the pants, with the little flap for ease of making water in the front, the wrong way. This is principally because Reid wanted to be able to see the Buzz Lightyear standing triumphantly on the rear-end of the pants. I was forced to employ the daddy mind-trick by the time Reid had been bathed and prepared for bed. I began to put the pants on the correct way, and, as with his mom, Reid corrected me. I explained, as his mom had, that the little opening for his peepee was in the front for a reason. He insisted that the Buzz Lightyear image was clearly meant to indicate the front of the pants. I then explained that the words on the label inside the waistband said "Put bum here." Reid paused and considered this possibility. He then let me put them on the right way and engaged in a little spin: "Mommy did it wrong." I've put up a small gallery of Sania smiling.

Sania's First Baseball Game

On our anniversary last month, someone gave us a wonderful gift: an all expense paid trip to see Washington's hometown baseball Nationals. It was a sweet thought, and truthfully, we had no plans but spending the night at home with our wonderful kids. But K's still on leave, so we had the flexibility (and a parking pass; thanks Ellie!) to catch the game with Reid and Sania. I think it was only Reid's third pro game (and his fifth game overall, including a visit to the Bowie Baysox and George Washington University's Arlington 'home' ballpark), and with these excellent seats, it appeared that he was actually aware that baseball was being played in his vicinity.

Sania was great, even as the weather turned a little cold. Reid was enormous energy, and I got to pace-car his revolutions about RFK stadium noting with a wordless cringe every horrifyingly filthy surface he touched. There were many.

We stuck it out until the 7th inning stretch. The Nationals were being battered by the 2005 National League champion Houston Astros (though they went on to take the next two in the series off the 'stros, so I don't feel bad), and this year's strangely long spring was giving us a brisk evening. We hit the car, changed everybody's diaper, and headed for home. Here's the daring double diaper change on the (thankfully) rubber mat in the back of the Forester. This is professional parenting, folks.