Hard Time

Date:     December 30, 2011
Crime:   Assault and Battery
Victim:  Zeke

Details:   Victim was in his bedroom with Father and Perpetrator, messing around and generally resisting Father's attempts to remove Victim's pajamas and to put on daytime clothes.  Perpetrator was playing with a mechanized toy that sings and dances to "Honey, Honey."  While Father was distracted, Victim got too close to Perpetrator and Perpetrator grabbed the toy and repeatedly banged it against Victim's head, bruising the left eye and cutting it just below the eyebrow.
Report based upon testimony of Father and Victim.  Perpetrator refused to answer questions.

Perpetrator:          Ben

Conviction Date:   December 30, 2011

Sentence:             1 minute time out & stern lecture

This isn't the first time that Ben has attacked Zeke, but it is the first time he's been disciplined for it.  (It's also the first time he drew blood.)  I've had to come to some new vistas of thinking about my little baby.  For example, he's a little bit aggressive when he plays with other children and adults, and he's very, very strong.  I think it's no longer appropriate to say, "he's just a baby", and it's time to begin the never ending training about being soft, being kind, and thinking about how others feel. 

Cheer

Everyone was in the car at about 4:30pm and we were sadly driving away from Grandma's house.  Zeke, who had not started the day happy, was kicking my seat vigorously and crying and screaming, "I want my Daddy!  I want to go home!  I want my Grandma!  I want my dinner!  I wanna get out!"  Etc.   I tried to tell myself that what he was really saying was "I am tired and hungry, please help me," but it wasn't really taking.

I reached back to give him half of a peanut butter sandwich and he swatted it away.

"Noooo!  Nooooo!   I want my lunch!  I want my lunch!"

So I brought my arm back, repackaged the sandwich in its baggie and put it back in his Toy Story lunch box.  Then I carefully handed the whole thing back to him.  Remember, I am driving this whole time, so I'm moving slowly and keeping both eyes on the road.  And there is lots of screaming and kicking going on.

Zeke grabbed the lunch box and continued screaming.  "I don't want this!  I don't want this!  I don't waaaaaannnn-"

"Zeke!"  I said sternly.  "There is no screaming in the car.  It scares Ben.  If you don't want your lunch, please hand it back to me."  I blindly reached my hand back to retrieve the lunch box.  He kicked me.

"Zeke.  There is no kicking.  You are in time out."

It's a toothless punishment in the car.  The radio was already off and I had no way to enforce any kind of time out while I was changing three lanes and merging onto the GiganticInterstateHighway.  Ben started crying, not really because he was sad, mostly because he likes to imitate noise and Zeke was putting on a great show.  Ben easily matched Zeke's loud, building sobs and long wails, just a few seconds behind.

Zeke kept up the crying and took his sandwich out of the bag, screaming, "I don't want thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssss!"
I'm not sure exactly what he was doing, but about a minute later he began to throw chunks of sandwich at me.    At least one piece landed in my hair.

"I want to get ooooooooooouuuuut!" Zeke shouted.
"Ah, ah, ah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"  repeated Ben.
As I was still driving, and trying to get us into the carpool lane, I decided that the best response would be to ignore him.  I started to sing hymns at a nice, medium volume to help myself calm down.
Zeke responded by taking off his shoe and throwing it at me.

"No singing!  Mama stop singing!"  he screamed.  It hit the radio console instead, but it made me hopping mad.  I reached back and yanked off his other shoe, dropping it to the ground so he couldn't reach it.

"Zeke!  There is no throwing in the car."  I used my very angry voice.  The kind that is not a shout, but a low, controlled tone and has absolutely no affect on him.

Then I took a few breaths and started singing again.  Zeke kept up his tantrum, quickly removing a sock and throwing it at me.  The second sock he threw at Ben.  "I want my sandwich!" was his new demand, along with "I want my Daddy" and "I want out".  He was out of ammo, but he screamed and struggled against his car seat for another half hour, giving up when there were only 10 minutes left of our journey.
Just wanted to share how much my boys love car trips.

Almost here...

This picture has nothing to do with Christmas.  It's just fun.  This is Prince Ben in his too-small bathtub, eating a plastic fried chicken drumstick.  

 We are very much looking forward to Christmas this year.  There are lots of cousins around to play with, lots of family gatherings scheduled, and lots of goodies to eat.  Last year I was pregnant and felt like I had an excuse to eat whatever I wanted.  This year I am supposed to be good.

 This is Ben, exploring some decorations in our neighborhood.  He was very excited that some of the lights were low enough for him to touch.  And below is Zeke, happy to have a few drops of rain so he can play with his umbrella.  Zeke thinks it will snow on Christmas Day because it does so in all the picture books we read.  He also thinks there will be sleds and hills for us to slide down.  Wouldn't that be awesome?

Holiday Party

This was taken before we started drinking.  

Mike and I went to his work's holiday party, which they cleverly styled a "Masquerade", thus avoiding even the word "holiday".   It was held at a fancy restaurant and hotel in a very swanky zip code, the type where the valets are pushy and the doormen enforce a dress code.  (Imagine short, glittery skirts and plunging necklines.  Most men were wearing suits and ties.)  We had sitters (thanks Grandma and Grandpa) so we didn't worry about the kids at all.

We got to try various crazy foods like pureed and encapsulated olive essence, cotton candy with foie gras, and puffy pastry things that had shavings of meat and liquidifed cheese in them.  The first thing I ate at the party was what looked like a tiny ice cream cone filled with caviar.  Black caviar.  It was my first taste of the delicacy (despite my time in Moscow) and I was not pleased.  Later I tried a dwarf purple potato that somehow tasted exactly like the caviar.  Yea.

We stayed for a waltz lesson on the ballroom dance floor and tried to meet people that Mike works with.  We eventually found the dessert table, which was pretty good, although I think sprinkles are unnecessary on cupcakes, even the ones made from edible silver.

It was fun to do something so different and strange, and it was rather awesome not to have anyone wipe their nose on my shirt or pull my hair or try to get my attention by throwing things.  We should have date nights more often.

Chuckle

This video makes me laugh every time:
 

He got dressed all by himself that morning.  And no, he doesn't ever slow down.

Before the Sickness

We have been sick for two weeks now.  Is it the same bug?  Is it multiples going around and around?  Bacteria? Virus?  Who knows.  It was beginning to feel like a seasonal bout of malaria.  Yesterday I gathered enough anger to rise from my delirium and I depleted a can of Lysol.  Doorknobs, counters, floors, the highchair, bathroom surfaces, light switches....
That's my cute Ben before the Sickness.  He's standing on his own regularly now, and I cheer and cheer for him and I don't think he knows why.  But he laughs and squeals and waves his hands.  It's a good time.  He's a climber too, just like Zeke and his mama.  Too bad they don't make baby harnesses.