I’ve written about Will’s love of farts and burps before. He thinks they’re so funny. Last week, though, he took it to a whole new level.
Nic burped, and Will laughed. And then he opened his mouth wide and tried to force himself to burp. I thought he was going to make himself throw up, or, at the very least, cough up an organ. But it was hilarious.
Last night Nic burped again and Will did the same thing…so for the next five minutes the two fake-burped and laughed at each other.
Nic said “I love having a boy baby.”
And it’s true–this right here is the upswing to the willy-holding and nose-picking. A free license to laugh at gas.
I’m working on a layout about Will moving rocks and it reminded me of the other week when my parents were visiting:
I was working on something in the kitchen when Nic threw something at me. It hurt.
I turned around to see (a) why he was abusing his wife and (b) what in the heck he’d thrown.
A marshmallow was laying on the ground.
I started to laugh. Nic threw another one, this one landed at my feet with a “thud.”
“What was that?” my mom asked.
“A marshmallow.” we giggled…and then everyone had a good laugh.
It’s really a had-to-be-there story, but I want to remember it..because hearing that marshmallow THUD was pretty stinkin’ hilarious.
It’s snowing here again!
I’m worried about my poor little seeds out there in the cold.
Will has been teething this week and I forgot how hard it is when he’s teething. The crankies, the wake-up-at-nights (after just getting back to sleeping through the night again), the terrible dirty diapers, the fever…I seriously find it hard to believe that this is harder on him than me.
You can add those two to Will’s vocabulary. And “dight” is now “light” as of today!
Have I told you about how Will likes to share his toys with the ferrets? He throws them into the ferret’s room, and at first I thought he was throwing things at them, and his toys just happened to be nearby. But then I realized he’s sharing. He’ll play with a favorite toy for a while, then take off toward the ferret room and drop it in there for him.
This morning while they were playing upstairs, Will took one of his trucks over to Fifi and tried to get her to play with it.
He’s a very nice baby.
Dear sir or madam,
My mommy has asked that I write you this letter, because, she says, if she were to write it, it would be less of a letter and more of a pipe bomb.
I am a toddler. A spirited toddler. I keep my mommy going all the time. I keep her tired, stressed, forgetful, and a little on the edge of sanity. Her whole will to live rests on one thing: my nap time. This is the one time of day she gets to herself. Completely alone. She can do chores, she can knit, she can scrapbook…and, most importantly, she can store up some energy and happiness to get her through the rest of the day.
The problem? I am a light sleeper. Now, heavy sleepers (like my mom and dad) and the parents of heavy sleepers, believe that good sleepers are better people than light sleepers. They believe that it is a skill to sleep through jackhammers and barking dogs and ringing telephones. I am here to tell you that it is not. My mommy and daddy did everything they could do to ensure that I would sleep through such noises–as a baby they never shushed people while I was napping, they always carried on with life at whatever decibel they felt like. But, alas, I am a light sleeper anyway. And if something wakes me from my nap, I am up for the rest of the day.
What, indeed, does this have to do with you? Well, dear friend, you have created a telephone that wakes me up. You say this is not your problem. That it is the fault of either (a) the telemarketers who take sick pleasure in calling during naptime or (b) my mother who doesn’t turn off the ringer.
You cannot blame this on my mother. (Well, you could, but if you do, you’ll end up with that cordless phone right up your butt.) She is, as I mentioned before, a little forgetful through no fault of her own (and every fault of mine). She cannot, it seems, ever remember to turn off the ringer before putting me down for a nap.
Now listen carefully, because this is where you come in. After I go down for a nap and she remembers to turn off the ringer, it is impossible for her to do so, because if she does, the telephone will ring loudly no less than eight times. In order to completely turn off the ringer, you are forced to scroll through all of the ringing options and therefore must listen to it ring in all of its variations. Eight ringalings. Why you thought a person who wanted the ringer completely off would want to listen to it ring at all is beyond me. But eight?! You, esteemed inventor, are the very definition of a total and complete Buttface.
My mommy would like you to come to our house and babysit me for 72 consecutive hours so you can truly appreciate the pain and suffering you have put her through. And then she would like you to buy her a new phone, live-in maid, and bi-weekly massage.
William F. P.
Words he used last week: “kids” and “dogs.” “Dogs” is a hard one for him–he has a hard time deciding what exactly is a dog, and what is a dit. This weekend he saw a weaner dog playing in its backyard and he pointed and shouted “dit!” Because yes, from a distance, weaner dogs do resemble ferrets.
I also feel that I should include “this” and “that” in Will’s vocabulary, because he’s said them for a couple of months. He points at something and says “dis!” or “dat!” which I wasn’t inclined to think of as actual words until I realized that I am always pointing things out to him and saying “look at this!” or “what is that?”
In other news, he is being a royal pain in the butt. I think he’s teething…but more importantly, he’s slept horribly the last two nights and has refused to take a morning nap. I could handle the nighttime interruptions and lack of sleep if I could get a nap from him in the morning. But instead all I get are crankies. This would be a really nice time to live near his grandparents. “Hey! Wanna take Will for the night? He’s at SUCH a cute age.” mwahahahahaha
William is so smart it scares me. The other day I was vacuuming, and when I finished, I unplugged the cord and started winding it onto the vacuum cleaner. Will walked to the other end of the cord, picked it up, walked over to the outlet, and started trying to plug it in. We have those outlet covers that automatically spring closed every time you unplug something, so he wasn’t in immediate danger, but it was still scary. We’ve been trying to teach him that cords and outlets = no, but he is just as drawn to them as he is to the tv power button.
On Saturday Will and I ran some errands, and toward the end of the day he’d had enough carseat time. He shouted. He kick his heels. He strained against his harness. And then he stopped. A look of calm and cunning spread over his face, and he STARTED TO FIDDLE WITH THE BUCKLES. If he’d been strong enough, he totally would have unbuckled the top grey buckle first (just as I do) and then pressed in the red button to release himself. He knew exactly how to do it…and I watched through our baby mirrors in awe. Thank goodness he isn’t that strong!
That’s the thing about raising ferrets alongside babies–Getting Into/Out of Things is Ferret 101.
Will has his first bad diaper rash, and during his diaper change I was being really gentle, but wiping was still hurting him. I know this, because not only did he start to cry, he signed “all done.” It was so sad!
He did not sign “all done” after breakfast this morning…instead we had another first: he fell asleep in his high chair! I was knitting next to him, the dishwasher and washer were going, and I think the background noise must have been just perfect, because he nodded off right in his chair…and Will doesn’t do stuff like that! Sleep is his enemy! I took some pictures–hopefully I’ll get them posted later this morning.
We’re having friends over for a barbeque tonight. Will and I will be running errands today!
…left the house at 9:45am. This was really big.
…met my friend Erin and her Baby Gap model baby Sarah in Old Colorado City for some shopping and lunch at a little bakery there (Tuesdays are French Corn Chowder Day, which makes them my favorite day of the week)
…drove past a cop going 17 mph over the speed limit and didn’t get pulled over. There was absolutely no reason for him not to pull me over. I saw the cop on the side of the road as I blew past him, looked down and saw how fast I was going, stopped breathing, slowed down, watched the rearview mirror…and nothing. The dude must really hate paperwork.
…visited with my friend Courtney and her three kiddos in the afternoon.
…got ice cream in Old Colorado while Will was sleeping in the stroller so that I wouldn’t have to share with him
…finished the capris I was making for that custom order.
…enjoyed really warm weather.
“His only instinct is to destroy everything he touches.”
“So he is a monster.” “Only a little one.”
Q: The above quotes are:
(a) Quotes from Lilo and Stitch
(b) Words heard at the Turchin household daily
(c) All of the above.
A: (c) All of the above.
I’m doing my best to raise a caring, thoughtful, obedient, well-behaved child that 1943 would be proud of. But God certainly didn’t give me much in the way of raw materials.
When my parents came to visit, Will treated them to a little shock and awe. They worked hard to come up with a nickname better than “Will the Destroyer.” It came down to Willzilla or Godwilla. I say we run with Willzilla, because there is nothin’ godly about the trail of destruction Will leaves behind him.
Other babies look out the window. Will looks out the window while eating the wall. I give you Exhibit A:
Some babies like to build towers. Will likes to knock down the towers that others build.
Some babies like to read books or have them read to them. Will likes to eat books. Or just pull them down off the shelf. I give you Exhibit B:
Some babies like to play on the floor. Will likes to tear up the floor. I give you Exhibit C, Will pulling up the vents (not an isolated incident):
Some babies take naps. Will likes to trick his mommy and daddy into thinking he’s taking a nap…and then rip down the wallpaper border in his room, even though we’d moved his crib away from the wall. I give you Exhibit D, the sight Nic found when he peeked in to check on what we thought was a sweet sleeping Will this morning:
The good news is that he recognizes his destruction as bad. The first time he pulled up the vent I found out about it because he was crying. I went over to him, and low and behold, there was a hole where there had once been vent.
When he’s done something new and destructive, before he even sees our reaction, he makes his “I’m such a naughty boy” face/whine. Now we just have to get him to realize this before he destroys things.
My wall-eating, milk-splashing, wallpaper-tearing, tower-knocking, book-ripping, lotion-eating boy. To be fair, he comes by in honestly. He’s just taking after his mother. In a matter of four days this past week, I managed to drop our camera (with the most expensive lens we own attached to it) on our concrete garage floor and back into our super nice stroller. Nic was able to fix the stroller, and we escaped with just cosmetic damage to our camera body and $110 worth of damage to the lens. I guess when you add it up, $15 for new wallpaper just doesn’t compare.
If Willzilla wants to be the King of Damage in the house, he’s gonna have to work on his game. He just can’t compete with his mommy.
The yarn whose arrival so thrilled me yesterday. These are skeins of Socks that Rock yarn from Blue Moon Fiberarts. The left is the Downpour colorway in heavyweight, the right is Scottish Highlands in mediumweight. I can’t wait to finish the capris I’m making for the custom order so I can work on these pretty pretty socks!
You can move “milk” into the got-it-down category. Today, after his shots, he got strapped in the car and made the sign for milk. It killed me that I didn’t have a sippy cup along with me!
He wasn’t so brave for his shots today. He got two, and I think the tech wasn’t as skilled as he could have been, because Will reacted more than he has in the past. It made me so sad.
I’ve forgotten to write this down, and haven’t managed to get a photo of it yet, but when he does something naughty he makes this face. All squenched up. Like “I can’t help myself.” If you tell him “no” he makes the face, too. “I want to so badly.” It’s a face I’ve seen in photos of ME as a toddler.
Two new skeins of yarn arrived in the mail today for me to knit socks with. I’ve been waiting for them for two weeks and Will and I did a happy dance when they arrived. I’ll post pictures later–they’re beautiful!
I thought I’d do an inventory of the signs Will knows right now, at almost 13 months:
Signs he has down pat:
- waving: If you say hello or byebye, he waves. If you leave or enter a room, he waves. If you go near a door, he waves. He waves at people, dogs, and cars (probably because he always waves at Daddy as he drives away)
- shaking his head for no
- all done (just moved into the “down pat” category this morning) (thanks to a story my mom told about Emily, we started teaching him this weekend)
Signs he’s learning:
- no (I think he knows what this one means when we do it [closing your fingers together] but he’s never done it himself)
Signs I want to remember to introduce this week:
- thank you
- touch (combined with “gentle” and “no”)
I posted eleven new videos tonight. Brought to you by my mom and dad–they finally made our extensive “borrowing” (ie–ruthless thievery) official and bought a new camera, gifting the old one to us. I knew all these cute Will videos would pay off!
You might want to pace yourself, though…eleven videos is an awful lot of cute to watch in a short time span…
He is scared of his swing. Sunday he still loved it, since Monday he’s been terrified. No rhyme or reason.
He is obsessed with his slide. Goes to the sliding glass door and points to it constantly.
He loves to dance. Whenever he hears music he bops and smiles. The dance he does while sitting is my fave. I totally adore that kid.
This last one has been going on for weeks and weeks, but I’m thinking it’s only going to get worse: Will has no respect for the childproof locks on the cabinets. They open up enough for him to squeeze his arm in there, and he will. He pulls out whatever he can (even opening up the plastic set of drawers I have INSIDE of the cupboard)–like toothpaste, lotion, tweezers, plastic bags, toothbrushes, hairspray, etc…so even our childproof cabinets aren’t safe. You have to store everything at the back of them so that skinny little arms attached to smart boys can’t grasp them.
(an open letter to toddlers everywhere)
Sometimes mommies get what’s coming to them. As babies we’re at their mercy. What we eat, when we sleep, how long we get to crawl around naked after our baths…they decide it all. And sometimes it’s just not cool.
This morning my mommy didn’t let me play on my slide, even though I went to the window and signed “more.” I mean, this is super cute stuff. It deserves to be rewarded.
But Mommy said she was still in her bathrobe and her mascara was all over her face and her hair looked like the ferrets had slept in it, and she said that since it was 10:30 there was no way even a hobo would go outside.
To make it worse, she tried to blame it on me. ME. William F.P. She said the reason she was still in her bathrobe at 10:30 this morning was because of the shenanigans I pulled last night. She said that she was getting ready for bed at 11pm when I woke up and cried for an hour. She said that it was Daddy who begged her to come in my room and stand by my crib until I fell asleep. She said I was a crap weasel for waking up again the minute I heard her climb under the covers. She said she almost died of The Tireds while she was standing next to my crib waiting for me to fall seriously asleep until she finally got to go to bed at 1:15am. She said when I woke up at 5am this morning she was ready to sell Glowey and all of my trains.
This kind of attitude cannot be tolerated. Mommies are mommies. It’s their job. And if they can’t remember to do it with a smile, we must punish them.
This morning I threw all of the clean clothes Mommy had washed and folded last night into the ferret room. I stood at the gate and tossed them all in there. It was Mommy’s fault for leaving the basket in the hall anyway.
When she poked her head out of the office to see what I was up to, I saw the defeat in her eyes.
I got her.
Spring poked its head around the corner to say “hello” yesterday. It was a gorgeous day and warm to boot. Will and I went for a walk in the afternoon and the kids on the street behind us had a lemonade stand set up. I was glad I had cash.
Today was equally lovely, so Will and I walked to Safeway to scope out some good dinner options. My mom and dad bought us a barbecue while they were here, and I was eager to be the one in the neighborhood making everyone else thing “darn–wish we’d barbecued tonight.” Hamburger meat was on sale, so it was fate.
Will had his first hamburger (a little tiny baby one Nic and I had fun making). He hated it. Kept spitting it out and throwing it on the floor. Ate all of the asparagus we put in front of him, but refused to eat his hamburger meat. Nic is questioning paternity.
You can add “cheese” to Will’s list of words. This one said exactly like it’s supposed to be.
My boy loves cheese.
Da, ferrets, light, and cheese. His four favorite things in the world. I expect “shaved turkey breast deli meat,” “bananas,” and “destruction” to be next.
My parents just left this afternoon to go back to Seattle, but they got to see SO MUCH walking! And so much progress!
Will has really taken off with independent walking…this morning he pushed off from the gate at the bottom of the stairs and walking halfway into the living room before plopping down by hid drum–that’s about 20 steps! And then just a couple of minutes ago we were walking around the kitchen. Will was holding onto my finger and then he let go! All on his own! And walked 15 steps to the oven where he pulled down all of my dishtowels.
We’re so proud of all of his walking!
I’m pretty sure William will be a full-fledged walker soon. Two nights ago as I was getting him ready for bed, he was holding onto the rocking chair ottoman, and out of nowhere he let go, took a few steps, and then flopped himself down on the futon mattress we keep on the floor in there. Yesterday he did that a lot–let go of whatever surface he was using to cruise along and took a few steps to grab onto another surface or to just fall. It’s so cute and stumbly, and he has a tendency to lean his front way far forward, like his top half is moving faster than his legs can keep up with.
I’m really looking forward to when he can walk–he crawls so fast, climbs everything, and is into everything anyway, so I can’t see how that could get worse. I see lots of things getting better, though–never crawling on gross floors, not having to lug him around, and being able to put him down when I’m standing in line at the post office trying to fill out forms and pack up my packages with TWO hands!
Last night Nic gave me a hug and said “I love you so much I could head-butt you right now.”
This is the ultimate declaration of love…at least it is in the Turchin household lately.
Will is a hitter. We’ve been working with him, and it’s getting better. Or, at least, it seemed that way until it appeared to be replaced by head-butting.
If you’re snuggling with Will, or playing with him, or just having a really good time, you might get a quick hug followed by a head-butt right in the face.
And it would be funny, but it really really hurts. We say “no” sternly and it should go away in the next couple of days. But it’s sad, because you can tell by the look on his face that he only wanted to tell us “I love you so much I’m gonna head-butt you right now.”
Will had his 12 month well baby visit yesterday. He weighs less than we expected–just 24 pounds, which puts him in the 50th percentile. He was 32.5” long, which put him off the charts again. This has been the story all along–middle for weight, top for height, so he’s our little string bean. I’ll look up his head measurement and add it in later, but he was 50-75th percentile for head, which is where his head has been all along, too.
He took his shot like a pro (a pro who bashes himself around daily). I found out that in Colorado, 1/3 of children aren’t vaccinated, and that whooping cough, measels, and mumps cases are so common they don’t even make the news, so I decided to speed up his delayed vaccination schedule, so we’ll be making lots of trips to Peterson for the next few months until he’s caught up to his peers (well, 2/3 of his peers).
All the galleries should be working again. There aren’t any photos in the March gallery, but I had a typo in the password there.