Summer Update

Well, let's see, where are we?

Charlie, Scout and Kiefer are less than two months away from their third birthday, less than two weeks away from their first dentist appointment, and about three and a half weeks in beds instead of cribs.

Oh, and yes, potty training is around the corner.  We would have already formally started the training except that a number of other big things are happening as well: Suzy just completed another triathlon, and is still training for a difficult century ride with her sister Katy, who is recently back (for good) from Japan (yea on all of that).  And as though that weren't enough, Suzy has also started a new part-time job at Whole Foods, and she and I both have separate trips to Seattle planned this month (--she's headed to a family wedding, and I am seeing my long lost bro, Andy Hieb, whose new wife is pregnant).  I am also training for a race in October, and so, I'm guessing, we'll have those kids potty trained, say, maybe...by high school...

However busy Suzy and I are, though, the little tricksters are the true wonders.  There's so much to say.  Ahh, where to start...

--Oh, of course, with Scouty.














She's still the boss.  She often parents the boys, in fact.  One night, she told Charlie to stop crying, and it worked.  I thought to myself, "This is great, I'll just give her directions and take Suzy out to dinner."  But it doesn't stop there.  She often commands her own body parts to cooperate with her intentions: "Get in there, foot."  And it seems to work: her foot and shoe both hop to whenever she speaks, and so do I.  The world itself wouldn't turn but by her decree.

And she dresses herself (terrible fashion sense--and that's coming from a Neanderthal), opens doors, climbs into dangerous places, like on top of the tank of the toilet (--her face, by the way, has been scraped up more than all four of the boys' knees put together), and she chooses which parental instruction she follows and when exactly she will follow it.  She still does as she is asked to do, but not until she asks herself to do it.  Suzy and I are always like, "Yea, Scout, good idea.  Good thinking."

One night up in the mountains, I went to their room to enforce bedtime rules for about the 100th time, but preceded my entrance with a stern verbal warning of my coming.  I heard bodies leap back onto their beds, as I figured they would.  But when I opened the door, she was just standing there with her hand on her hip--oh, and she was facing the other direction.  My arrival didn't even merit eye contact.  Little Miss Independence, I'll tell you.













Oh, and she is by far the best with delay tactics.  Really, the boys only imitate her.  "I need to take my shoes into the living room...One more kiss...Kiss my fingers...Trace my feet...Sing to me...Put my towel on..." (--that's right, lately she parades around like an Arabian Princess, wrapping herself in her hooded towel--my most effective trick has become, "Scout, if you can't take a nap with that towel, I'll have to take it away").  But, make no mistake about it, she is my sweetheart, and has as cute a personality as you could ever imagine.

Oh, and she has a great laugh.  And she also loves art, whether writing or drawing or painting--let's see, art, cooking and grocery shopping.

And then there's the Doo.













Kiefer Doo.  He's always going for a laugh, and is certainly the one that has made the most celebrated word of the house "Booty."  That word, or a punch to his own head, or the giant dance (during which he raises his elbows high and stomps around) are all sure triggers for hilarity.

But if you were to ask me what most sets Kiefer apart right now, I would have to say an uncanny athletic ability.  He throws spirals, and far.  He plants his foot when he kicks, and kicks with his laces (all right side, by the way).  And his hand-eye coordination is also remarkable.  Once, Charlie had created a game of hitting a big ball with a Nerf-crockett mallet (we call it golf), and, I thought, "Wow, that's pretty good.  Maybe that's something in which Charlie will excel."  And then Kiefer walks in, grabs the mallet, and SMASH!--first time: I had to duck for cover.  It's really something--I mean, for a person who, like his siblings, will probably never grow much taller than a meter.  But he is also a very sensitive little guy, loves kisses and being held and holding hands and having his face traced, and he is very much aware of how he or another is perceived--always watching, studying reactions--and he almost can't stand "being caught" making a mistake.

Don't get me wrong, he can be naughty, and has had a well deserved time-out or two, but the attention he most often seeks is praise...so far, at least.  And he'll astonish you with some of the things he says, things he recalls from side comments made a day or two before--better memory than his parents by far.  He'll recount the days events at bedtime, and I'll often say, "Oh yea, we did do that." And just a few days ago, he looked at me from across the room and said that he was Charlie, and he held out so long and so well that I had to come up closer and make sure I wasn't mistaken.  A real prankster, this one.

His mom was sitting there meanwhile saying, "Good one, Kief."  Oh boy, the three of those wiseacres against me, while Scout is off vying with Mother Nature for absolute control--yes, sir, I'm in trouble.

And, of course, that leaves Charlier Bird.

This guy is hilarious, and he is so expressive.  Those eyebrows.  It's not really what he says that ever startles you, or that makes you laugh.  It's how he says it.  And he can just sit there, head tilted a bit down, eyebrows raised up behind his bangs, smirking, waiting, waiting and smirking, quite certain you'll crack at any moment, however mad you are pretending to be.  Or he'll come up to you, repeat something you had already said, and kind of squint and nod his head, as though you and he had an understanding far beyond words or beyond the present meaning of any particular episode.  Natural entertainer, for sure.  He even has a fake laugh.  That said, his real delight is actually laughing.  He loves getting tickled or tackled or tagged in a kind of pre- or post-bath nudie-race ritual.  He and Kiefer are a real tandem, though he is not as consistently ready to fool around as Kiefer.

Sometimes, he'll just concentrate on some imaginary enterprise--he has been driving a little garbage truck, for instance, over pillows and couches a lot lately.  He also loves building, and destroying--has patience for the one and a total lack of it for the other.  He was sent to time-out twice in ten minutes the other day because he could not wait to destroy Scout's puzzle until she completed it.  He's also a bit oblivious.  A few weeks ago, at the library, he walked straight smack-dab into a table--cut his brow above his left eye.  (Scout, on the other hand, is not oblivious--her head-wounds generally come from an attempt to test everything out with her face--or maybe it's from a snobbish refusal to employ a mere reflex to brace her fall, I don't know.)  Charlie is easily, and maybe therefore, our most skittish child, but once he is within his comfort zone, it's usually laughter rolling over laughter.  "Bird" is what we call him, but I also still secretly refer to him as Charlie Cuddle, because he laps up affection whenever he can get it.

In fact, he's addicted to painkilling kisses.  He'll often make a great row over the littlest bump or misstep or imagined mishap just so Mommy can kiss away the pain.  (All three of them, actually, follow his lead in this, and the more urgent the need for a kiss, the more quickly the pain subsides--and, of course, we can't get enough of it--ooo, I guess I'll take that back--sometimes that's all Mommy seems to be good for.  I use to try to sympathize with the addict, but more often than not I find myself sympathizing with the drug.  Hats off to all you mamas out there.)...


So, there you go, my dear benefactors and friends.  Life is flying, and really this is just an Impressionist painting of the hustle and bustle of our day.   As any of you parents know, this is what each of them is or was like a moment ago (what I imagined anyway), and nothing like each will be a moment later.  But just as much as I would like to slow it down and relish it all the more, I also relish the continually renewing chance to meet each of these miracles.  What is parenthood, really, if not the best seat in the house?

Sure, it's a roller coaster ride too, but Suzy and I are just exhilarated about it--wanting to be nowhere else, even in our toughest moments.  I mean, just look at them:  Bird, Doo, and Little Ms. Thang.

Thank you, as always, for your interest in this blog, and in our goings-on.  Your interest and thoughts and love, more than anything else right now, encourages me to keep at it--to make room for reflection, without which, I know, I could not take things in half so well--and that's all I want to do these days, take it all in, every little bit of it I can.  Thank you, and we'll catch you on the rebound.

The DeStefanos