Scott has a very important announcement

But he's not talking a lot yet, so his shirt is speaking for him. (Thanks Grandma.)

It only took FOREVER to get him to stand still for this picture.

Little brother or sister (aka Rough baby #2) is due in mid-December.

12 weeks, four days.

Note from Scott's mommy: Tank actually has no clue what's about to hit him. 

When he first saw the ultrasound, he said, "Elmo!"...When I tried to show him the picture later, he threw it on the ground. So he either thinks I am going to give birth to a red furry muppet, or he is completely disinterested in the entire thing.

We'll keep you posted.

On biting, NOT sharing and switching daycare classrooms...again

My kid must taste yummy.

How else to explain the incredible frequency with which he has been bitten this past month? Three times last week, including twice in one day (in the span of 90 minutes, by two different kids no less) and again this morning.

Houston, we have a problem.

At first, I tried to be chill about it. After all, biting is common among the 13 to 24 month old set, right? Then, I figured, maybe Scott and one other kid just have a "thing." After, all, the same little girl was responsible for at least two, and possibly three, of the bites in the past 30 days.

But then a second kid bit him on Friday, and a third this morning. In each instance, the teachers told me the bites were "unprovoked" - that they couldn't pinpoint any specific behavior on Scott's part that would have precipitated the incident.

Unfortunately, Scott is now starting to show signs of trepidation and hesitation when we bring him to daycare. Worse yet, the school called today and told me that he had been acting out all morning, that he was behaving aggressively...pushing, hitting, taking toys from other kids.

That's not his normal personality. Yes, he sometimes struggles with sharing, but he's normally a pretty exuberant, happy-go-lucky, sweet kid.

This is the happy, playful Scott I know...pushing, shoving, hitting other kids? That's not like him, and mommy does NOT want it to become a habit.

While I could chalk his behavior up to being a "toddler," or him just having an off day, I worry its indicative of a bigger problem - an unhappiness in his daycare classroom, with his teachers, his environment.

There's a lot of kids in there, and it always feels chaotic. The school, recognizing there's an issue too, moved him up to Room 4 today.

That classroom is for mostly 2-year-olds, so the kids are mostly 6-12 months older than Scott, and are much more verbal. The setting is more structured, and the children more capable of using words to express sadness, frustration, anger.

I stopped by unannounced this afternoon, and stood outside the classroom and spied on him through the door for more than half an hour. Overall, I think he did pretty well. He seemed a little unsure of himself, a little more cautious and hesitant than usual. But in general, he held his own.

I was impressed with the amount of interaction the teachers had with the children. (Especially compared with his current classroom, where I always got the sense they treated it more like a "job").

I watched Miss Alyssa firmly tell Scott and a couple of other kids to "share" on multiple occasions. She even got them to pass toys back and forth that they had previously been fighting over.

A few minutes later, Scott was with an older boy on the far side of the classroom. The kid turned away for a second, and Scott seized the opportunity to grab a stuffed toy train he'd been coveting for quite some time. The older kid took it back and then proceeded to bop Scott repeatedly over the head with it.

The teacher was up in a flash, marched over to the other child, gently but firmly disciplined him and then made him give Scott a make-up hug.

So we're going to try keeping him with the older kids for a while and see if it helps.

The situation is beyond frustrating. I struggle with how best to approach it, fix it. I don't want my child to be repeatedly bitten. I want him to feel safe at school.

But I also don't want him to develop bad habits and behavioral issues of his own. The last thing I want is for him to lash out in anger and become the bully of the classroom.

If anyone else out there has dealt with this or has thoughts, boy, I'd sure love to hear them.

The Arm

A little boy and his beloved baseball. Cute, right? Not so much.

Jim taught Scott to "throw" when he was about 11 months old. He loved it. So much so that "ball" was one of Tank's first words.

Back then, it was cute. Scott couldn't even walk yet, so we'd sit on the floor in front of our not-yet-very-mobile-baby, and play catch with a big soft squishy plastic ball.

The game consisted of us rolling the ball toward him and Tank "throwing" it back to us. His throw, at the time, consisted of dropping said squishy ball about two inches in front of his body and clapping with glee.

Fast-forward eight or nine months, and the game isn't nearly as cute. The kid has an arm. I mean, seriously, he has an ARM.

Unfortunately, his aim hasn't quite caught up with his strength. Anyone who comes over to our house, consider yourself warned: You are likely to lose an eye, or, at a minimum, have your wine glass shatter in your hand.

You see, we're having a hell of a time teaching Scott what is and is not OK to throw. Nothing is off limits: toys, shoes, stuffed animals, toddler plates, parts to mommy's appliances. You never know when you are going to be in the line of fire or what might be coming at you.

Consider the following conversation, which pretty much takes place daily in our house:

Me: No. NO. Scott, we only throw balls OUTSIDE.

Scott: Nods. Then laughs and whips one of his wooden Thomas the Trains through the air at my face.

So while long term, I am dreaming of pitching scholarships (please, dear God, scholarships!), Scott leading TCU to the College World Series, and eventually seeing my kid in a Diamondbacks uniform, right now, I am hoping to just avoid a broken nose or window.

See what I mean? He's throwing the ball directly AT the photographer.

The Great Communicator

Suddenly, Tank is a talking fool.

When we took him in for his 18 month checkup about three or so weeks ago, our pediatrician asked how many words he knew. I estimated roughly 12 and was surprised when she was so pleased.

"That's wonderful! Most of the time I hear 5 or 6. So if he knows 12 that's really, really good," she said.

I explained to her that he wasn't using all of them with regularity. A couple he repeated once or twice and then we didn't hear them again for days. 

In terms of frequency, Scott's vocabulary consisted of: juice, Elmo (funny how that came in at #2), mama, da-day, bye-bye, no, milk, dog, down, all done, ball, and more. 

Our doctor said that by his two year checkup he'd probably know 150 or 200 words.

No way, was my immediate thought.

But now I can see how its possible - even likely. Words are suddenly pouring out of Scott's mouth. It's as if they've been stored up in his little head for 18 months, waiting for a chance to come out. He's saying "plane" "choo-choo" "poop" and this weekend uttered his first two-syllable words - "anana" (banana) and "bubbles."

He's also starting to pair more them together more frequently. First it was, "oh no nooo!" whenever he dropped something or spilled his juice.

He's said, "bye bye daddy," and when we drove into our garage after a 3 hour roadtrip, he looked at me and said, "bye bye car."

And I can actually - kind of - have a conversation with him at dinner. I offered him more chicken and got a shake of the head and "noo." I offered him yogurt and again got a "nooo." 

When I asked him what he wanted, he hesitated, looked around and then pointed and said, "milk!"

How freakin' cool is that?

I've got SOOO much to say!!!

Biting off more than you can chew...

Or, in Scott's case, simply failing to chew AT ALL.

Tank has always been a fairly robust eater. He is particularly good about eating meat - especially when it comes on the bone. Chicken and turkey legs, pork chops, ribs, even lamb chops...he digs right in.

Lately, he's developed a bad habit of ripping off really big bites. Even when his food isn't served cave-man style, he still tries to shove a ridiculous amount in his mouth.

Tonight IT finally happened. I was sitting with Scott at the kitchen table, eating dinner while he happily gnawed away on a chicken leg. Then came that awful, hacking, guttural sound that could only mean one thing - my baby was choking.

I jumped up, whacked him on the back a couple of times, and figured that would be it.

But it wasn't. His eyes watered, his hands tensed, and he started shoving his neck forward.

I honestly don't know for how long. Time stopped. At least it felt like it did.

Ever since Scott was born, my perspective has completely shifted. The idea of something happening to him literally makes me heart stop pumping for a few seconds. I don't read news stories about horrible things that happen to kids, I can't buy fiction books about sad, tragic events involving small children - everything hits too close to home.

And so as I watched him, I completely and totally panicked. I had no idea what to do.

It was like my brain was having a conversation with itself.

One part of it kept thinking/saying: "He's okay. Right? I mean, he's ok. He'll swallow it down. It'll stop."

Meanwhile, the other part was frantically and silently screaming: "He's not ok, you idiot. Look at him. Do SOMETHING."

I whacked him on the back a couple more times, then stuck my finger in his mouth, feeling around. Nothing.

Scott started turning a hideous shade of red/purple. So I yanked him out of the high chair, threw him on his belly across my leg with his head pointing toward the floor and whacked his back again, harder, several more times.

And then suddenly, after what seemed like FOREVER, out flew a very large hunk of rotisserie chicken. No bone, just pristine, untouched, unchewed meat - about twice the size of a quarter and at least 4-5 times as thick.

The offending "bite" of chicken.

I couldn't have even swallowed that thing whole. Scott coughed and then drooled/vomited a bit, finally letting out a very long, high-pitched cry/wail. I slid with him, in my lap, onto the ground.

I think we sat on the floor for a good three or four minutes. He sobbed, I rubbed his back and his head and tried to stop my hands from shaking.

I give the kid credit. He's resilient.

Ten minutes later, he was acting fine, happily drinking down the fruit smoothie I gave him.

Playing in the bath after "the incident," as though nothing ever happened.

I am still trying to calm down. I doubt this will be the last time Scott does something that scares the crud out of me. I do know I want to be better prepared when he does. So i am signing up for some CPR classes in the near future.

And, starting tomorrow, his meat is getting cut up into small little pieces.

My kid is a Sasquatch...and I didn't notice.

For the past few weeks, my folks and I have joked about Scott and the unique running "stance" he'd developed.
It was sort of a side-to-side, not-quite-bending-at-the-knee-shuffle that made him look like a tow-headed Yoda whenever he moved.

We'd even started calling him Yoda.

I am officially a moron.

Today I took Scott to Stride Rite to get his feet re-measured since I wanted to buy him a pair of summer sandals, and I wasn't sure if his size 5.5 wide shoes were still the way to go.

I was also hoping to pick up some crew socks, since several of his didn't seem to be fitting well.

Duh, mom. You would think that somewhere a light bulb would have gone off in my dense little head.

They put Scott on the plate, and told me he's now wearing a size 7, wide.

SEVEN. I almost choked. And then I felt terrible. I'd been jamming my poor kid's feet into a size 5.5 shoe for God knows how many weeks/months, having no idea they were now three sizes too small.

Scott's proper shoe size, as evidence by the one on the left. I can't imagine why the brown ones were uncomfortable.

No wonder his big toenail fell off a few weeks ago. No wonder I had to yank to pull the darn things on and off. No wonder he walked like Yoda.

I think I may officially the worst mother ever - or, at a minimum, one of the most unobservant ones.

At least its a problem that's easily rectified. Scott has a passle of new shoes - including tennies, summer sandals, water shoes and topsiders. He also has socks. The woman at the store told me they'd probably last until July.

Mommy guilt on full display.

I certainly hope so.

Thanks, Mom, for finally noticing. Sheesh, what's a kid got to do around here to get your attention?

Scott's Christmas Iditarod (aka, the month of receiving)

It's official. My kid now has every Fisher-Price toy ever made. And some from other manufacturers too.

Scott's 2nd Christmas was much like his first. Way over the top. The only difference? This one lasted more than three weeks.

And yes, I am just getting around to writing about it in March.

Don't judge.

Jim and I took Scott to California to see the Rough clan this year, and because we were out of town on the actual holiday, Santa made a very (very) early stop to Tank's house, dropping off gifts and goodies on Saturday, December 17.

Santa is very accommodating that way.

Scott's toy haul included a Little People pirate ship with a firing cannon, a bright red toy piano, and a Radio Flyer bumper car. All were a big hit - the bumper car in particular.

BOING!!! Goes the bumper car when you run into things!

My mini-Beethoven. So talented he can play with one hand whilst throwing back a beverage (the sure sign of a talented musician.)

Scott opens by tearing ONE piece of paper off at a time. Then he stops. And hands it to you. Then he tears again. Repeat.

Daddy coaches Scott on how to "fire" the cannon.

Festivities continued on Friday, December 23 (Christmas Eve-Eve) when we got together with the Richardson-Hellmer side of the family for dinner and gifts from Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Kristy and Uncle Martin, and cousin Peyton.

 

Getting a little love from Peyton on Christmas Eve-Eve

So many great toys - and yet, we spent 45 minutes playing in the box.

  
Santa paid another pre-Christmas visit to Scott and Peyton- this time in person. (Again, the big guy is very accommodating that way.)

Checking out our new baby Leap Frog "iPad"

At some point during the month of December we also made time to take Scott to actually get his picture taken with Santa, and also to Zoolights - one of our favorite annual events. I honestly don't remember when those things happened, because, again, it was more than two months ago.

I do know that Scott was non-plussed by his 2nd Santa experience, and thoroughly enjoyed Zoolights -- particularly riding in the bright red wagon and playing with the glowstick given to him by Grandpa Richardson, who is almost as accommodating as Santa.

Cozy and snug with cool cousin PK in the red wagon.

Zoolights!

More Zoolights!

Scott checks out Santa.

We headed to California the morning of Saturday, December 24 - Christmas Eve, and spent the weekend with Jim's mom (Grandma Kathy), and Jim's brother's Sean and Chuckie. Scott had a blast hanging with his uncles -- he followed Uncle Sean and Uncle Chuckie from room to room, and spent some time playing with Aunt Kendall and his cousins Lucia and Elsa.

And did I mention there were more gifts? New pajamas, new clothes, new wood toys with a very large wood mallet that makes lots of noise, Thomas the Train videos, Legos...the list goes on and on.

Sharing Grandma Kathy's lap with baby cousin Elsa.

Christmas morning, and you guessed it...we're opening presents.

After a weekend in Nevada City, we headed over to Paradise, California, and spent a few days with Grandpa Rough and Patty. And there were more toys and books there too!

We did a little sightseeing and Scott got to eat a yummy lunch at the Sierra Nevada brewery.

He also played with Grandpa Chuck and Patty's dogs, and discovered a cool looking radio with lots of knobs and switches to turn on and off, off and on at Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma Rough's house.

Scott, mommy and daddy with Great Grandpa and Grandma Rough

Great-Grandpa Rough has the BEST radio.

Hiding from mommy in an "under the table" fort.

After our stop in Paradise, we worked our way back over to Redding, California, for a brief visit with Scott's Great-Grandpa and Grandma Bedell. That didn't go as well, mainly because Scott showed us his new-found propensity toward car-sickness, vomiting all over the back of the rental mid-way into town.

We descended on Grandma and Grandpa Bedell's house like a herd of locusts, toting a smelly carseat, cranky kid, and two loads of stinky laundry that we immediately deposited into their washing machine.

After resting up, we flew home, only to discover MORE toys, courtesy of Santa, in the middle of our living. The biggie was the brand new Lego table, which now has a prominent place in Scott's new room in the new house.

Yes. We love our Legos and Lego table.

Christmas FINALLY came to a merciful end in late January, when Scott's Great-Grandma Richardson (Nahnee) and Great-Grandma Anderson (Gee-Gee) came by the new house, with, you guessed it, there own gifts in town.

Scott scored a stuffed dog, more books and an outdoor playhouse that now resides on our patio, complete with ringing telephone and working doorbell.

And I just realized Scott's third Christmas is a mere 9 months way. Oh my!