houpley

Whenever I help Eli into his pajama bottoms we both bump heads a time or two as we are simultaneously head-bent watching the pajama-bottom-putting-on-process.  He stands on the changing table and puts his hands on the top of my head while I bounce each foot into the appropriate pajama leg. It finally occurred to me this was serious business to Eli – hence all the intense supervision I get while dressing him.  Last night, when we both had our heads down studying the process he murmured, “Where Eli’s foot go?” At that very moment his foot appeared through the red elastic band at the end of his pj-pant-leg at which he immediately shouted   with joy: “DERE IT IS!” Whew!

Mama look at us with this play-doh! We are play-doh –maticians! That’s right. Let’s make a sun. Oh yeah, Ok! We can make a play-doh campfire with this brown and red play-doh. Oh yeah. Good idea.  Hey bud, I gotta go help daddy for a sec. I’ll be right back. Ok. (several minutes later) Hey, mama! Come look at what I made! What did you make? An apple core! An apple core? Yeah! Look! I just took it out of the play-doh can, squeezed it and look… an apple core! Uh…Wow. I know! I’m very creative.

There is no in-between with Eli.  When he runs, there is only full speed and on the ground.  When he wants to read a book with you, there is no middle ground. It is not up for discussion. You are reading where all the baby animals are sleeping AGAIN. When it comes to requesting, Eli is a shouter. I’m sure this is a typical sibling trait. When the youngest one has to speak up to be heard, things get noisy. Plus, we are a loud family.   Lately, I have started to work with him on lowering his voice.  But just like the rest of Eli’s habits, it is one extreme or the other. His polite shouts begin: MAMA! PEASE I HAVE MORE MILK! MAMA! PEASE I HAVE MORE MILK! Eli, you don’t have to shout. Just ask mama. What do you need? in the softest, tiniest whisper I can barely hear:   mama, pease i have more milk?

Each boy was sitting at opposite ends of the dining room table eating waffles for breakfast before school.   I checked on them numerous times during the daily hustle that is hurry-eat-get-dressed-and-out-the-door-ahhhh! In between dressing, blow drying, etc. I paused to peep in and see how the waffle eating had progressed when I overheard Eli going mafia on Jackson. From across the table, waffle in hand, the tiny don quietly stated, “You, hit me.” Jackson, waffle in mouth a table away, immediately responded, “No, I didn’t!” “You, hit me.” “No. I did not.” “You.   Hit.   Me. Jackson.” He sounded like an evil baby making sure his victim was getting the picture. As if to say: You hit me and that is how it’s going down. Each word in a deep voice, each pronounced slowly and with purpose. I was standing, hidden behind Eli with my mouth agape. My adorable baby turned mob boss was outlining the threats crystal clear – setting up his target. Jackson just s...

After soccer games, Eric collects the equipment, I collect stray snack-trash and my parents collect Eli. Jackson charges around the game fields with teammates and classmates - burning off the excitement from the game. As twilight approaches and we near the concession stand, a last call to the boy will typically round him up. But the other night, it was a bit more difficult to call the colt into the gate. He was in the midst of some serious chase. As in a trio of adorable little girls were in hot pursuit of soccer player No. 3. As the pack finally slowed to a halt at my final call, Jackson began to introduce his chasers but the tallest interrupted him with her own professional introduction: Oh it's ok, I know him. Oh, you do? Yes, I chase him. 

Well, we are all moved in and only had three boxes left to unpack so we did what everyone does with the last three miscellaneous boxes and put them in the attic to one day be discovered, maybe right before a garage sale and as is typical we will say "apparently we never really needed this so and so..." Actually, I just went through those last few boxes and can officially say that as of this very moment we are 100% moved in. Box-free! The move back to the natural state was the very end of May ... so ... about four months to get every last box unpacked? Not too shabby. Of course, all of that was made possible from the help of friends and family which in turn was at the top of the list of reasons to return to the land of opportunity. In the meantime, Eric and my parents have been digging in the yard and it is starting to really shape up. The place was very overgrown and had not seen any yardwork-love in more than 5 years.Sometimes it seems endless, but when I look back at b...

Eli is right in the middle of the roll-call phase.  Every activity – working, laundry, sleeping, eating, walking – are regularly assigned to the people around him and even those who live elsewhere. The roll-call game is one of my favorite because he drags it out and sing-song-says it like a little grown-up. As if his list is almost as exhausting as the actual activity he is checking off. Here’s how it works. Eric will be working on a project in the garage: Mama? Daddy workin.’ Yes. Silence while contemplating this information and then a sing-songy unleashing… Daaaaddy workin.’ Eeeeli workin.’ Jaaaaackson workin.’ Granddaaaad workin.’ Eeeelvis workin.’ Izzyyyy workin.’ Apparently, there is a lot of working going on around here.