Father's Day helper

Oliver helped make Wes's Father's Day treat this year: Knock You Naked Brownies.  The recipe includes a bag of caramels, which is where Ollie came in.  He loves to help in the kitchen, so I pulled up the step stool to let him be involved.  I got two silver bowls, unwrapped one caramel in front of him, put the caramel in one bowl, the wrapper in the other, and then let him go.  Ollie must've spent twenty minutes, with complete focus, unwrapping caramels.  He hasn't always astounded me with his rate of learning, but he does have a lot of focus for a child his age, as was evident here.  I helped him with a few, which gave him the idea of just handing some more off to get more help.  But he persevered to the end.  I tried to let him help stir the orzo, but he was getting it everywhere, so instead he got down and Swiffered the floor.

I let him get back up later to help put the chocolate chips in the brownies.  The pan had just come out of the oven and was topped with hot caramel, so I told him repeatedly that it was hot, something he seems to understand and respect.  I poured the chocolate chips into one of the bowls so that he could manipulate them easily.  He was standing there with the chocolate chips in front of him while we waited for the caramel to melt, and he asked for a "bite," his way of asking for something he knows is a special treat.  I told him he could have one bite and put it on the counter for him, and he happily consumed it.  But then he kept staring at the bowl, and looking at me, and staring at the bowl again.  I could literally see the battle of wills.  He asked for another bite, but I told him he could only have one and he was all done.  I finally pushed the bowl out of his reach, which led to tears, which led to him climbing down the step stool, only to realize that a few had fallen on the steps that he could eat.  Which made it all better.

The brownies did finally get done and were very good.  Oliver enjoyed a "bite" or more of them over the course of the next week.  And I have to believe they were ever more sweet for his hard work put into them.

Weigh In: Week (almost) 11

Today’s weight: 123.5.  I don’t ever remember weighing that before.  The belly is now obviously more pregnancy than fat, at least when I’m undressed, but not noticeable to someone who doesn’t know when I’m clothed.  I don’t mind the weight loss, but I won’t mind the nausea being gone.  My weekly pregnancy e-newsletter said that women gain around 12 pounds in the second trimester…

Dear Husband, Part 46

Wes has named the fetus: G2.

"You never really know a [wo]man until you stand in [her] shoes."

Wes and I went to the residency graduation last night, leaving Oliver with a new babysitter I found on the sitter service that Vanderbilt has recently made available to employees.  The graduation is always a little dressy, and while I looked for a dress that would be appropriate, I heard Oliver clopping around the house in my shoes.  My high-heeled shoes.  Wes came home to find his little boy in high heels and (one of the reasons I so love this man -- other fathers we told this story to actually cringed) thought it was the funniest thing he'd seen in awhile.  So much so that he got out the video camera to get some footage.  Oliver loves shoes and puts on our shoes constantly, everything from my flip flops (which is hilarious itself) to Wes's very large, very heavy Danskos he wears to work.

It's sad to say, but Oliver might walk better in the high heels than I do.

Weigh In: Week 9

123 pounds.

Here's your sign

Oliver seems to be ready for potty training.  He pees and poops on a pretty regular schedule.  He is sometimes dry when I go to change his diaper.  He knows the words pee, poop, and potty, and what they refer to.  He has been tugging at his diaper, especially when wet or poopy, for a while now.  And then recently  he has either asked to go poop on the potty or told me as or after he poops.  Yesterday, I picked him up at 3pm and took him to the Dragon Park. We had only been there 15-20 minutes when he says, "Poop," then gets down off the jungle gym and backs up to me so I can look in his diaper.  And there, sure enough, is poop.  Then at dinner, he said it as he started grimacing.  He already had some out by the time we got him onto the potty, but it's pretty evident that he knows when he's pooping and doesn't like to have it in his diaper (supposedly one advantage of cloth diapers). 

The thing is, I'm not sure what to do from here.  They put him on the potty at daycare every time it's time for a diaper change.  I put him on the potty here at home.  But so far, he doesn't go in it very often.  He's clearly getting tired of diapers, and naturally so am I.  So what next?  I know people who have done the 1-day potty training method, the 21-day potty training method, and others who tell me that, even though their kids seemed ready early on, they still aren't trained at 3 and 4.  I really don't want to deal with that. 

Weigh In: Week (approximately) 8

Last weekend in Phoenix, I slept, read, and ate when I could.  I came back, and I’ve gained three pounds.  Three!  And I’m only 8 weeks pregnant.  I’m so not ready for that part of pregnancy.  Must get some exercise and soon.

Hey, good lookin'

Last Tuesday was our early ultrasound for the study I’m in.  This ultrasound was my main reason for participating in the study, since my midwife’s office doesn’t do them routinely.  Wes and I both like to see the baby early, to know there’s just one and to see that it is developing normally and in the right place.  I scheduled the ultrasound this time for as close to 8 weeks as they would let me, knowing we should be able to see a heartbeat by then and such. 

I was really nervous the night before and could hardly sleep.  I couldn’t even look at the screen until the tech had pointed out the gestational sac, the fetal poles, and the heartbeat (170bpm!).  I looked then, and suddenly Wes and I went from being very nervous to being very excited. 

I still can’t quite grasp the fact that we’re going to have a baby – another baby – in January, but the excitement is growing and it’s hard to ignore that my belly is, too. 

Oliver is as captivated as ever by babies, but as my mom and sister noticed, it’s usually the baby he sees in doorknobs and spoons and some pictures on the wall.  Funny that he should start to call himself this just as it’s becoming so very obvious that he is no longer one.  

Dear Husband, Part 45

When we left the ultrasound last Tuesday, Wes said, “He’s a cute little bugger isn’t he.  Did you see him waving at us?”

"It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday"

Actually, I was taking a picture of the three of them before mom and Laura left, but Wes took off Ollie's hat, which upset him.  But I'm sure it's how he felt about them leaving, too.

Ring-around-the-rosie

"Ring around the rosie...

...pocket full of posies...

...ashes, ashes...

...we all...

...fall down!"

While you were out

A recap in pictures (and recounted events from Aunt Laura) of Oliver's visit with Grandma and Aunt Laura (who, might I add, he can now recognize and name).

Friday: At the zoo, getting a closer look at the baboons. Grandma and Aunt Laura did not take a stroller, so Oliver did lots of walking (and got a little embarrassed when he tripped on a crack in the cement).

Baking cookies with Aunt Laura. Grandma gave Oliver a nice haircut while he helped, which ultimately led to some "naked chef" time.

Watching some television with Grandma while Aunt Laura makes chicken quesadillas.

Saturday: Early breakfast at the Pancake Pantry. Oliver ate four kids' pancakes, one regular pancake, plus a bowl of strawberries.

Helping Aunt Laura push the stroller in the park.

Sliding on toddler slides.

Modeling one of his new hats from Target.

Sunday: Racing with Aunt Laura. Go, go, go!

Making a sign with Aunt Laura. He brought it to the airport when he picked us up!

Not pictured: Asking to go "poop in the potty" (and actually doing it), blowing bubbles in the pool, learning to say lots of funny things.