Trains

Kyle has always been a fan of trains...especially Thomas the Tank Engine. He started off with the die-cast ones, then the wooden ones, and finally, the battery operated plastic ones. Over the past 18 YEARS, we've gained many trains (and tracks) and have gotten rid of, basically, none. That's a lot of trains!

So when Evan came along, I thought for sure his love of trains would start from the very beginning. For his first birthday, I got him the Thomas Train and he could sit on and "drive" or push. It has the buttons that play the little jingles....how great. Well, he's played with it a little, but it was never a huge hit.

At our old house, Kyle's room was upstairs, and Evan's was down. This prevented Evan from having very much exposure to the trains set up in Kyle's room. At our current house (a year and a half), both of their rooms are upstairs, and Evan also has mastered the stairs enough where he has freedom to go up and down as he pleases. This summer when Kyle was home, he had a constant track with the battery operated plastic trains set up in his room. Evan did NOT like them! He would scream, cry, etc. It was awful. This stage lasted for a month or so. THEN, he went through a stage of still crying, screaming, etc., but yet, he insisted on standing in Kyle's room to watch them! Of course, Kyle didn't care to have his little brother in there screaming while he was conducting the Island of Sodor. But, Kyle, having the big heart that he does, put up with it quite well. Gradually, he was able to spend time watching the trains for several minutes before the overload and the screaming/crying would start. This often happened before bedtime...not a good way to ease into a good sleep.

Now, after several months, I can proudly say, Evan is a true Thomas the Tank Engine fan. For Christmas, we got a track set for him (to Kyle's relief), and he is becoming quite the little conductor of trains.

I can hear the trains going now. :-)

Peep peep!

Losing Our Dads

Wow, Oct. 3rd...it's been a while. Before I can start writing about the everyday stuff that happens around here, I need to write this post.
John's Dad passed away on Nov. 11th, and my Dad passed away on Nov. 19. Sometimes it still doesn't seem real.
John's mom and dad were just here in July, and he seemed like a healthy, energetic 74 year old. Then, in September, he started a "cough." At first, they were treating him for bronchitis...that wasn't going away. It got progressively worse. A couple of weeks before he died, they said it was possibly pulmonary fibrosis. He started on a oxygen tank at home on Nov. 6th. On Sunday, Nov. 8th, he went to the hospital because he was having such a difficult time breathing. I think it was Tues. that he was told he had full-blown lung cancer. John had a flight scheduled to go to Florida on Thursday morning; unfortunately, his dad passed away Wed. afternoon.

Cigarettes suck.
He was such a larger than life person. He's greatly missed by out family!

My dad went to the hospital on Monday, Nov. 9th...the day after John's dad had entered the hospital. He was having great difficulty breathing...fluid in his lungs. He was 87, had bladder cancer, and had suffered a stroke two and a half years ago. At this point, he was very weak. He had the health conditions, and he hadn't been eating much. At the hospital, they gave him something to help relieve the fluid on his lungs, an antibiotic, and blood (his blood count was low...he was losing blood through his bladder). He came home on Friday with the hospital bed was set up in my parents living room; Hospice was helping out. He went downhill rapidly. I'm thankful that I was able to be with him during this time--I took off work---but it was also so difficult seeing the process of death. Tuesday morning till around noon was the last time his eyes were open, and he could attempt to say something. Wednesday morning, his eyebrows moved slightly when I tried talking to him. Thursday morning, his breathing was slowing down, and he passed away around 9:30.

I know he was 87--that's considered a long life--but it just didn't seem long enough for me.

I feel like there aren't many people who know our boys...really know them. It's not only hard losing as our Dads, but these men were also Grandpas who loved and accepted our boys for who they were.

Meet "Mo"

Look who joined our family today!

We went to the Humane Society today...it really wasn't in our plans of the day, although we have talked about getting another dog. A picture of a Pomeranian that was in the paper a couple of days ago inspired us to go. That dog was no longer there, but there was another Pomeranian...along with this Terrier mix who came in together three days ago. The Pom. was pretty, but this other dog was, well, cute!

He's 2 years old, and his name was Buddy. After much discussion in the family, his name is now "Mo" or "Maurice." John wanted Gordon, Matt wanted Elvis, and Kyle suggested Henry. We were calling him Gordon for a couple of hours (although I didn't think it fit him). Mo was my choice, and John liked it...he just liked Gordon even more. But, after talking to Chelsey (who liked the name Mo much better), John agreed to it.

He's adjusted quite well so far. He's very fond of Evan, and I think Evan likes him, too! Tonight when I brought Evan to bed, he followed us up to his room; Evan was laughing. But then, the dog didn't want to go back down with me. When I made him come out of the room with me, Evan expressed his disapproval.

Side Note----Evan and bedtime: He's had great nights the past couple of weeks!

Evan also was riding (with help) his tricycle this evening that he got for his birthday---5 months ago. All summer he wanted nothing to do with it; tonight, he couldn't get enough of it. As I pushed Evan around the house (while my back was screaming), Mo followed us the entire time!

Gigi and Mo in the "getting to know you" stage.

AND, the BEST part (so far), he seems completely house trained (although he will be in a cage at night and while we're gone), AND, he doesn't chew on things---two big pluses!

iHeartFaces: "Blue"

I haven't put in a picture for iHeartFaces in quite a while! This week, the theme is "Blue." This is a picture from when we went to the Dunes. John was throwing sand Evan's way--they both thought it was rather humorous!

~~~Check out the other photos at iHeartFaces~~~

Blankie

From very early on, Evan has found security in his blankie. It started out very innocently...he would keep it close to his neck when he slept. It was just an ordinary receiving blanket, a bit over-sized. I had picked out the snoopy material before he was born, and my mom had sewn the edges of it.

For the longest time, blankie was only used during sleeping...but gradually, that changed.

Blankie started coming downstairs with him, blankie tagged along in the van, and blankie was getting more and more hugs.

Then there was change---not a good change---blankie was getting chewed on. Of course, it started out rather gradually, but over a period of time, the chewing increased. I would cut small lose ends for fear that he might choke on them. Blankie got smaller and smaller.

After he would fall asleep, I would usually go into his room and remove it from around his neck because, well, it was usually very wet from being chewed on...gross...
It would smell---badly---and it would get washed...a lot.

It didn't take long until blankie no longer looked like a blankie.

Then one day a few weeks ago--it was a Saturday--I just couldn't give it to him before his nap. It was this ever so small wad of ick. I would post a picture, but.....no......

I hated the thought of him not having it. It had comforted him for so long.

I put him down for his nap, explained to him that he wasn't going to get blankie, and to my complete surprise, he went to sleep with not complaints.

Could it really be this easy??

That night, same thing. He went to bed, and he was fine.

Yeah!

Well, almost.

On Sunday, he started making it clear that he needed his blankie. I think if he could talk, he would have said, "Mom, this is the longest you've ever taken blankie away to clean it. Obviously, it's clean now. Give it back to me...now."

For the next couple of days and nights, there was crying with the occasional call for "key." I felt so badly. At one point when he was in his room crying, I went to the kitchen and reached up to the top of the fridge to retrieve it.

Only, when I put it up there, it had been wet....it was now a crusty, hard ball of ick. There went that idea.

Although he had another receiving blanket, a yellow one--material bought the same day as the snoopy material---he was never attached to it. At some point, I went to the closet where our blankets are. In there, was a receiving blanket we had from when Chelsey was a baby--I had never given it to Evan, not sure why. It has baby Disney characters and a few letters on it, was still in excellent condition, and I thought maybe he would like it because of the letters on it (he really likes letters).

When I gave it to him, he immediately smiled and started pointing to the letters....yes!

Over a period of a couple of days, it appeared that this might be the new blankie. The adoration started slowly....then, it was clear...this was the new blankie.

And there appeared to be a bonus...he wasn't chewing on it! And if I had written this within the first 2 weeks of his adoption of the new blankie, I would be saying that as if it were set in stone! Yeah, that didn't last....but we are keeping a closer eye on this behavior and greatly discouraging it.

I wonder how long this one will last....

20.....20!

Beautiful baby....

....gorgeous young lady!

Chelsey, you're an amazing young woman with a heart of gold. I'm glad you're my daughter...keep filling the world with your sunshine! Happy Birthday!

"She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky

Nothing's ever gonna bring her down

And everywhere she goes

Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive

She's a butterfly

Like the purest light in a darkened world

So much hope inside such a lovely girl

You should see her fly, it's almost magical

It makes you wanna cry, she's so beautiful

God bless the butterfly,

give her the strength to fly

Never let her wings touch the ground

God bless the butterfly,

give her strength to fly

Never let her wings touch the ground"

~~~Martina Mcbride~~~

16.....16!

An adorable little boy....

....a handsome young man!

Matt is 16 today!

Matt, you're an amazing son.

I love being your mom!

18......18!!!

So cute then...

....and so good-looking now!

Kyle is 18! Happy Birthday to my baby...okay, okay, my adult son! :)
You've come a long way...I love being your mom...I'm so proud to have you as my son!

Playground Update

Since we've been back in school, my desire to be on the computer has dwindled significantly. There are a few things I want to blog about, but I'll stick to just one topic tonight...maybe get the others in sometime this week...?

About a month ago, I had this post about the "battle" to get Evan to play on the playground.

....there's been a complete turn-around!

It happened last week when we went for our usual long walk, ending at the playground. Only this time, he pointed towards the playground equipment, I asked him if he wanted to play, and he gave me a "es." As we got closer, he was tyring to climb out of the seat belt of the stroller!

Of course, this was maybe the second time this summer where we've gone for a walk, and not only was he not wearing his sandals, I didn't have them in the stroller either. I just really didn't anticipate needing them.

He got out and immediately started playing...not just sitting on his favorite platform but going throughout different pieces of equipment, following kids, and laughing. It was great!

Why the change? My guess...preschool. For three years now it has bothered me greatly that he hasn't had much exposure to other kids---I strongly believe that is the greatest therapy of all.

We went back to the playground today, and again, he couldn't wait to get out of the stroller. He (we) even went down a really big curly slide...again, and again, and again, etc. He had never ventured that far before.

Yea!

He Told Me

This evening, Evan told me that he needed to use the bathroom! It was so exciting that I can't remember exactly what the word was he said. I think it was a cross between "potty" and "poopy"---"poppy"...but I'm not sure! I just know that whatever he said, I said back to him, "You need to go potty?" and his fist went on the top of his head (his version of signing "yes"), and he said "es." We went to the bathroom, and within seconds, HE WENT POOP!!!! Yea!

A couple of days ago, he didn't have anything on the bottom half, and he came to me with a diaper and said, "diaper." I brought him to the bathroom, and he went. I'm so happy that he's finding ways to communicate this need. (I really need to get on the ball with making the picture cards for this...it's not that difficult.)

For the first half of the summer, potty training was intense, and we had good results. For the second half, we eased up a bit because he was started to get a bit defiant about sitting on the potty. At first I thought that all that work was for nothing. BUT, easing up has had really good results. He sometimes wears underwear and sometimes a diaper, but now when I ask him, he seems more relaxed about it and isn't refusing like he had started to do before we eased up. Sometimes he will go in his diaper, but he's quick to take it off when he does.

It Wasn't Even His Birthday!

I was on the computer earlier today transferring pictures off of my camera. John and Matt had just gotten back from the store so they were somewhere in the house, Chelsey was in the kitchen making lunch, and Kyle was in this room where the computer is (front side of house) watching tv. Yep, that's not very interesting.

Well, while on the computer, I had my ears open for sounds of Evan, but I probably was a little too comfortable because I knew that the rest of the family was throughout the house. But the mother in me told me to get up and go check on Evan when I heard that sound that makes mothers nervous.....

the sound of silence.

I got up, and for whatever reason, I glanced to the right out the door as I passed by it....the glance turned into a frozen stare. There, up the street, walked Evan....alone. He was right by my parents house (100 yards, maybe)--he wouldn't have stopped there---my first reaction was to call my mom so she could get him--he was right there. I picked up the phone (I could still see him out a window), and before even dialing numbers, I was thinking, 'put down the phone and just go get him!' Just then, I saw that the neighbor across from my parents was in the street with him, trying to coral him. I dropped the phone and ran as fast as I have in years towards my baby. As I got close to him, he started laughing....not funny. I thanked the neighbor; she, her husband, and teenage son had just come out of their house to get groceries out of the car. Fortunately, we live on the end of a cul de sac that has 8 houses....not a busy street, but still.....

He was not too happy with me as I carried him back home.

How did this happen? We have a sunroom that is completely unclosed with sliding glass doors--7 of them. It provides a great view, and on a day like today (70 degrees), having some of those doors open is quite nice. Yeah, but the thing is, although Evan can't open the sliders, he can open the screens. Apparently, John had forgotten that fact....he had opened a couple and then went into the living room to watch tv. So, Evan got out, went across to the side of the yard so he could go around the privacy fence (it doesn't enclose the yard), made his was through the front yard, and up the street.
It's awful when I think about the "what ifs." One thing I'm certain of is that he wouldn't have turned around to come back home.

Okay, I almost hate putting this part in because really, this event is not funny. BUT, there's a detail I left out....

Evan was wearing absolutely....nothing.

I'm definitely out of the running for the mother of the year award...

Just What A Mother Does

Evan has been a little iffy on his naps lately. About a week ago, I put him in his room for his nap, and like he often does, he whined a bit and was at his door turning the nob. We have one of those safety things on his door due to the fact that his room is on the second floor, so he wasn't going to open it, although he gave a good effort.

After a few minutes, I went up to put him back in bed.

Only, I couldn't get the door open.

It was locked.

We've lived in this house for a year now, and we've never given thought to the locks on the inside doors. Now some inside doors have those locks that just push in. With these, you have to push in and turn to lock it. He can't get to the lock because of the safety plastic thing on his door knob, but I guess with him messing with it so much, it became locked?? I don't know, but I do know that my baby was quite upset because there I was on the other side of the door, and I wasn't opening it.

I tried hangers and paper clips--didn't work. I called John; he suggested kicking in the door...yeah, right. I went outside to get the heavy duty ladder--John had just been trimming the trees the day before--but even with Matt's help, I couldn't get the ladder propped up against the house--it came falling down on me (which I'm guessing is where the huge bruise on my arm came from; I didn't notice it until the next day). I have very little upper body strength.

By this time, I'm crying because he's crying and doesn't understand why I'm not getting him. I called John again, and he suggested going over to ask our neighbors for help. So I went over there, tears in my eyes, and explained the situation. He smiled, said his boys used to do that (they have grown children), and that his wife had something she used to open doors. He goes inside, tells her about it, and she comes out with a very small screwdriver. Basically, she couldn't get it open either.

So, it had been probably 45 minutes, and he's still crying. I call her husband, and he comes over with a few more tools---still, nothing.

I tell him that if he could get the ladder up against the house, I'll go through the window. I knew it wasn't locked, because I had just closed it before Evan's nap.

We go out, he gets the ladder up, and then I start the climb. Not a big fan of heights, but, this wasn't too bad. BUT, he had put the ladder to the left of the window, and when I got close to the top---as far as I thought necessary---he gently told me I would have to go two steps higher. That's when I really started to feel a bit uncertain about being up there. I slowly made my way up those two steps and cut the screen.

The next step was to remove one leg from the ladder and put it through the window.

Evan grabbed that leg. As I'm in the air with one leg halfway through the window, my neighbor tells me that I'm going to have to take my other leg off the ladder. Oh, yeah....Okay, at this point fear sets in a bit, but I knew I had to do it--I had to get to my baby! So I get my leg off the ladder, and there I am, straddling the window sill. The window isn't that big; I had to wiggle my way in...it felt like I was stranded there with one leg in and one leg out a long time, but I'm guessing it really happened in seconds.

I know, going up a ladder isn't that big of a deal! But it was!!! I used to climb tall trees when I was younger; I'm not sure when my fear of heights set in.

Yeah, John took the lock out of his doorknob that night.