Enoch and I went to the pediatricians today and so far, so good. Blood work, good. Lungs and heart, good. Tummy, good. Diaper areas, good. Eyes, good..... and so on. They think that Enoch may be what is termed a "late bloomer," someone who reaches puberty and maturity later than the average Joe. There goes our hopes of Enoch being the master rebounder in Junior High on the BB team, but there is always grade 12, so we will keep him practicing just in case.
We had a wonderful day trip last weekend to Yorkton to see Josh's uncle, Eric, and his wife, Erin, get married. It was a real nice ceremony out on the bride's family farm. The house and surrounding gardens/lawn were incredible. We had lots of fun and it was real nice to be able to play catch up with relatives that we hadn't seen for a while, as well as relatives we had never met. Quite the treat. Here is a pic of many of the family, excluding the bride and groom unfortunately.
Here is a little taste of what Josh has been doing all week. I have to admit that I much prefer walking around Home Depot picking out tiles and paint colors to the job that he faces. The more we gut the room, the more trouble we get into; nobody builds things like they used to, and now we are trying to match up old with new, and it gets a bit complicated. Maybe a lot complicated. We just keep thinking about the finished product, and about (hopefully) Levi getting to know "uncle John".
Twice we have tried to get Levi to graduate from diapers to toilets. Twice we have failed. So, this time around we have decided to put Levi in a very advanced potty training school. Tuition is close to $2000, but we figure it will be worth it in the end to have a son potty trained by the time he goes to sunbeams. Strangely enough, this educational institution is located at our local Home Depot. Somewhere along the way, our bathroom reno has changed from fixing the mold to building a new bathroom for Levi to poop in. He loves the whole idea of this and talks about it frequently. He even got to look at the toilets and pick one out.
I really hope this works, cause if it does, we just might become Guiness record holders for most expensive potty training technique. If it doesn't work, then we have seriously tried all avenues that we can think of, and will be in desperate need of help.
In lieu of being able to brag about my son's incredible weight gain or walking capabilities, I am writing this to mention some of his other accomplishments to make myself feel better.
1) He can say many words; mama, dada, byebye, hi, hello, door, levi, kiss, ball, vroom....and his latest: popo (popcorn)
2) He can stand without support
3) With the touch of a single button, he can do wierd things to the computer as I type that only my husband can fix
4) His screams reach a decible that would be considered torture in some areas of the world
5) He can tell me when to change his diaper by scratching on the linen closet (where the diapers are kept) like a little dog wanting to go outside
6) Today I left the room to put some laundry away, to find that he had climbed onto the couch and was sitting there quietly playing with the phone I thought I had left out of reach
7) Imagine my surprise when a police officer stopped by, and said someone in our house had dialed 911! Talk about smart if he can already contact superior autorities behind my back.
It is hard to believe, but Bo-bene turns the big one today. He is still such a baby in so many ways, I dont feel like I have a one-year-old. To give an example, he doesn't walk. Not even with someone holding his hands. People often are surprised by his age, I think I could pass him off as an 8 month old if ever needed. (Did you ever lie to get into a movie for a cheaper price?) We went to the docs today, and he has been labeled as "not thriving." What exactly that means, I am not sure. If they took food intake and dirty diapers into consideration, then they would have to label him as something else.... ziggy piggy, maybe? But as it stands, he is not gaining the weight that he ought to be. It is sure hard to please the public eye. Since the day he was born I have been trying to feed him nothing but healthy food, to avoid the awful phrase childhood obesity, only to be told my child has childhood fat necessity. 
Oh well.... what's most important is that my little guy is happy. And hopefully in the next few weeks we can discover why Enoch is so little, and give him the healthy and thriving label to go along.
Happy birthday Enoch. I love you!!
After 7 weeks of seeing very little of my husband, and having a 2 year old who likes to act out in his absence, I called Josh up and asked him to come home early. It was either that or a break down. He will be home in a little over 14 hours and I can not wait to see him!! What's an extra weeks worth of salery when my sanity is on the line?
That's it. I am officially old. 3 weeks shy of my 27th birthday, I sneezed and my entire back hurt, and continues to hurt hours later. I plan on picking out my walker next week. Do not pity me: you're next!
No, this is not a blog with an ode to Gun's 'n Roses, in case any of you were getting excited (after all, Appetite did turn 20 this year), this is dedicated to my children and the fact that some days I have patience, and other days I don't.
Today for instance, my 2 year old was in and out of sorts all day. He didn't like the size of cup he had his juice in this morning, he didn't like that we had to leave the scrapbook store when we did, he didn't like that I made dinner without holding him in my arms, nor that I his fork was the wrong size. He didn't like that I put his shoes on him before he could (he can't do this feat, but he thinks he can), he hated going to bed for a nap this afternooon, and he didn't like my saying the dinner prayer without his arms folded. (We ended up blessing the food twice, and the second time he blubbered every phrase after me through sobs). This is how it was all day, but today was a good day. And I just found it funny.
Wednesday, however, was not so good. He drove me crazy. I wanted to scream along with him. I wanted to go hide and never be found. I wanted to slam doors and stomp up and down. He gets to do this, so why not me??
I am embarrased to say that I have recently found a new weapon against toddler tantrums. NOTHING. I say and do nothing. I remain quiet. Levi hates this and begs me to speak and calms down. It is amazing, actually. My only problem is that I can only control myself into speechless oblivion when I have patience growing out my ears. And as it stands I am in the need of some major fertilizer.
Picture this: a mother of two young boys sprawled out on the floor in a hospital room with an ice pack on her neck as she fights to maintain conciousness. Nurses quietly step around her as they tend to the 2 year old who has just received his first stitches...
We still are not even sure how Levi cut his foot. The prime suspect is an open vent with a sharp screw sticking out of the side, (which has since been duct taped to the floor), but who knows? What I am amazed at is the calmness and ease at which my toddler handled the entire situation. Sure, I held him and kissed him and told him things would be fine, but my knees wanted to buckle and my stomach constantly churned. I am not sure how he knew, but Levi was incredibly intuitive. When we asked him what happened, all he would say is, "I'm gonna be OK, " in his little, reassuring voice. And as I held his hand on the way to the hospital, he was the one to squeeze my fingers tight, letting me know that things were fine.
But now all that is over; the wound is healing and Levi lets us dress it as needed. My thoughts turn to the future and I am scared. Is this bound to happen again? Did I grow up ever so carefully to avoid the hospital and serious injury, only to have my children take me there again and again as they find ways to hurt themselves? If my husband is any indication of what the future holds for me, (as far as Stone boys are concerned), I better toughen up and start dealing with this better. I can't always count on my 2 year old to give me the strength I need to help him get better. How on earth are they so tough? I want to learn.
P.S. I couldn't bring myself to get a picture of his foot, but here is a picture of Levi after the ordeal and after the blue popsicle the nurses gave him.
