boxes and forts

This was the morning from hell. Usually, as I've said, our mornings consist of breakfast, and then a trip outside Into Germany to shop or play or whatever. This morning though, I wanted to get a few things done online, so I brought the boys into the office with our cream of wheat, and we all sat together eating, with half the computer screen playing home videos while I worked on the other half.

This was fun for a while, until Andrew started saying with every video "I want to do that. I want to jump off of Daddy again in that house" (a Watertown video), "I want to sled with Poppy" (two Christmases ago), "I want to live at Poppy's house" (dinner at the Darlings), etc. The crying and the whining (which had been going on and off all morning anyway) intensified, until he was just flat out sobbing. "I want snow. I want to sled. I want Poppy. I want to live in Georgia. I want I want I want." I think that he finally realized that we really are very far away from everything he knows, and he just feel apart at the seams. I felt bad for him, but at the same time, I couldn't let him just wallow in it. Whining is not ok, no matter what. So. I said that we were going to get dressed and go outside to play in the dirt. This was met by crying. "No dirt, just snow". ARRRRHHHGGGG!

Then I noticed a big box that Greg had brought in last night. It was from Pete, and that always means happiness and jelly beans. Andrew thought it would be fun to open (first smiles of the morning!) so we unpacked it and sure enough, there were snow boots (for some reason much anticipated by Andrew -- he's been talking about them for weeks), snowsuit for Andrew, hats for both boys, a few other things, and of course, the Poppy trademark: plastic Easter eggs full of jelly beans, candy corn and Good N Plenty's.

(Note to friends and family with interest in maintaining relationships with the boys: send them stuff! Not bunches of toys or expensive things or anything, but getting stuff in the mail is a huge bright spot in their day. Pete's already sent them two boxes, and they've been hugely appreciated by the little people.)

(Note to Pete: Andrew is now obsessively fond of candy corn.)


Unfortunately, the pleasantness was short lived. Apparently Andrew's world was caving in. I was concerned that I'd have to drag him down both flights of stairs to get him outside, screaming and kicking my (in the belly?) the whole way, and then possibly have him wail outside and refuse to play. This was not an option (I really can't carry both of them all the way back up by myself). So I called Greg and asked him for some "pull it out of the sky" ideas. "Bath, Coloring together, play in attic, build a fort". The last suggestion appealed to Andrew, and finally, we had a happy morning.

As it turns out, Greg must be a genius.

(Note to my dad: the motorcycle Elijah is holding is the Harley you gave to Andrew -- now the favorite toy of both, along with the police man from Pete.)


Later on, I felt like a genius myself. I've been struggling with getting Andrew toilet trained. He doesn't seem to care, and especially enjoys pooping in his pull-ups ("You change me Mommy!"). Today, however, I put him in bed with no pull-up or pants on, and told him to tell me when he needed to poop. Sure enough, 10 minutes later he came running out and I sent him to the bathroom...and he accomplished the deed in the toilet! I had him call Greg to be congratulated and paid him with a few gummy bears. I put his pull-up back on and sent him back to bed. A half-hour later Andrew came back out of the bedroom with a dirty pull-up. Excuse me while I put my head through the wall.

Answer to Sarah: no, didn't find a midwife. The hospital here seems kind of ok, and one of the doctors is actually really cool, so that's our current plan. Unfortunately, there's no way to guarantee that this particular doctor will be there, but at least we can have a birth plan. I'll update you all if this changes, but for now, that's the deal.

Also, the Italian food is only mediocre. It's like American Italian in the way that it's Italian food the way the Germans think it should be made. Hmm. I suppose I'll just have to go visit Italy.