My brother-in-law, Charles, was deployed to Afghanistan at the beginning of January.  We always knew that there was a possibility that he would go, but we had hoped he could avoid it.  Charles is married to my sister, Amy, and they have a son, Drew, my nephew.  This was a big year for my family.  We celebrated Mauldin’s first birthday, Elle’s birth, Annagrace’s first dance recital, and most of all, Drew’s first year of “big” school (He began kindergarten).  During this year, we were fortunate enough to keep in touch with Charles through Facebook.  We tried to tag him in photos so that he would not miss the big events.  We were excited when we found out that his leave would coincide with Drew’s first day of school, and the entire time, we hoped that he would be able to come home for Christmas. 

As time drew nearer, it didn’t look like that would happen.  The final word was that he would be home the day after Christmas, December 26.  We made all the necessary arrangements, and as a family, planned to drive to Ft. Benning that day after Christmas to see him.  All these plans were set, until everyone woke up this morning.

I think it is better to hear what happened in Charles’s words, through his Facebook post.  Please read, and as you read, I hope you see that Christmas miracles DO still happen.

Charles:  (23 hours ago) I am in Qatar, there were 700 joes in Bagram trying to get to Kuwait…a little birdy told me to fly to Qatar and hop to Kuwait from there. Well here I am, almost no one here and I have a scheduled flight to Kuwait at 10am

Charles:  (22 hours ago)  CHANGE…someone call Amy and tell her this. I am flying to Baltimore TONIGHT from QATAR, TONIGHT…boarding in like 10 freaking minutes TONIGHT. I may have to come out of pocket to get to Atlanta but will get reimbursed at Benning. Umm…Daddy will be home for Christmas!

Charles:  if you couldn’t tell, I am not really worried about it (getting a flight to Atl.)…I feel like I am being carried right now. I mean, really, like someone else planned this trip out for me – I feel like Forrest Gump, like I just bumble along with no clue what I am do…ing and doors are opening at precisely the right minute. I mean, getting off the plane in Qatar and a US bound plane is literally sitting on the runway and has a hundred open seats. You guys have no clue how weird that is, there are hundreds of people who have been waiting for days in Kuwait and Bagram for flights and I am just walking into open seats with no reservations and as a low priority traveler (Space-A).

 

Charles:  Wow – just wow – it’s hard to explain but none of this should have happened. First, this flight doesn’t allow open carry of weapons, they have to be checked. If I hadn’t LUCKED into that weapons case a couple days ago I wouldn’t be on this bird…

 

Charles:  Second, it was sheer luck that I got on the Qatar flight, I just happened to be in the terminal when they announced they had a some open seats on a cargo plane, they never posted the flight in the terminal or announced it over the loud speaker – it was a spur of the moment, if you are ready to move your butt right-the-hell now type of deal. Third, As soon as we landed we started hearing call to fill a ton of open seats on this flight. I was in Qatar maybe 30 minutes before I was checking bags for this plane.I am starting to believe in Santa Claus now, Drew told me he asked Santa that I get home for Christmas…even though I told him I would be there right after. I guess Drew thought, we will see if Santa can handle this… 

 

Charles:  Also, why did I go to Qatar? Well, I am listening to the clerks telling guys they may wait for days to fly to Kuwait and then some guy walks in yelling about Qatar. Im not thinking anything about it – after all, I need to go to Kuwait, righ…t? Another civilian guy walks up and says “You need a flight home?” I said yes, trying to get to Kuwait. He replies “Go to Qatar, go now”.

 

Charles:  and I did what he said…who knows who the hell he was and it is unlike me to say “yeah, I will fly to a different country than I need to because random civilian guy says to”

 

Charles…maybe he was Santa

I’ve omitted a lot of comments from others, but you can still see how the story unfolded.  A child asked Santa to simply bring his Daddy home for Christmas, and with the faith of a child, he knew it would be granted. 

Merry Christmas too all…and to all a good night!

Every Sunday, I enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet before the kids wake up.  Then, its breakfast, getting dressed, compiling the grocery list, and in the car to run our errands for the week. 

Today’s errands included a trip to Kohls for returns, a trip to Target for our weekly diaper stocking, and then the Publix for groceries.  Mauldin is perfectly happy during these trips.  He doesn’t fuss in his carseat as we drive from place to place and is perfectly content to wear his monkey backpack as we walk through the stores.  Elle, however, loathes these trips.  I think she secretly plans ways to sabotage us at every stop.  Whether it is spit up, a diaper, hunger pains, or just plain boredom, her cries are very often heard, by the people passing us in the stores.  I’ve learned to smile and nod and an elderly woman passes us, mutter “tsk tsk” under her breath.

Today, as we drove to Kohls, Elle began her weekly fuss.  “Waaa (I don’t wanna be in here), Waaa (why are you stopping…don’t you stop the car), Waaa (If I have to hear Mickey Mouse clubhouse one more time!!!), Waaaa (I need my Barbara Streisand…where is Barbara Streisand!)”

“Laura, talk to your daughter.”  Eric turns to me as he drives down the road. 

“It’s not going to work.  It just makes her worse.”

“Please, just try…”  Eric asks me this, because we had similar problems with Mauldin when he was this age.  However, with our dear MJ, all we needed was “It’s a Small World” on repeat and our voices, whispering calming phrases in his ear.

“Elle, we are right here sweetie.  It’s okay.  We will be there soon.”

“WAAAAA….WAAAAA…WAAAA… (OMG….You are in the front seat and not listening to me.  I just heard you.  Don’t deny it.  You are there and ignoring me!!!!)  WAAAA…WAAAA…WAAAA!!!”

“See, I told you.  It just makes her worse.  If I talk to her, she knows I’m here and not doing anything to make the situation better.”

All children are not created the same, and this has become very apparent to us as Elle grows and begins to gain her personality, but isn’t that what makes parenting interesting.  Notice, I didn’t say relaxing, just interesting.  I guess if Elle was exactly like Mauldin, we wouldn’t appreciate the individual she is.  She is our darling angel, no matter how loud she gets!

After 9 long months, Eric and I finally met our little girl. 

Estelle "Elle" Lillian Skates

Elle was born on June 22 at 4:51am.  She weighed 6 lbs 7 oz and was 19.5in long.  One pound larger than Mauldin and one whole inch bigger

In the days leading up to Elle’s birth, so many emotions swirled through my body.  Excitement, anticipation…all the emotions you expect and expectant mother to feel, but I also felt something else.  Extreme apprehension!  My family was about to increase.  I was gaining another child. 

For those that have ever sat down with Eric and I, you know that Mauldin is the center of our world.  We live and breathe for that little boy.  There is not a decision made in our house that doesn’t include some type of discussion about him.  There are many times that Eric will turn to me, just to say, “I love that little boy,”  in which I reply, “I love him too.”

Mauldin James Skates

Eric and I always planned to have more than one child.  We both have siblings, and family is a top priority in both of our lives.  I always knew that Eric would be an amazing father by watching him play with our nephews and niece.  Likewise, he knew the same about me.  Being the planners that we are, we had always discussed having our children a few years apart.  Not too close together, but not too far apart.  The day I found out I was pregnant with Elle, that plan was erased.

Fifteen months apart.  That’s how far apart our angels are.  God’s plan and our plan did not match up, and in my experience, God always gets his way.  Elle was our pleasant surprise.  NOT AN ACCIDENT!  This is a term that I refuse to use.  A pet peeve of mine your might say.  I was a surprise to my parents as well.  Never once was I refered to as an accident.  An accident is something that happens, and you regret the incident that occurred.  Elle is not that.  No…she is my surprise.  A beautifully wrapped present I received.  The contents of which, I did not ask for, but definitely needed.

Leading back to my original point.  Apprehension.  In the days leading up to her birth, this is how I felt.  Why?  How could I love both of my children equally and so much?  I knew how much I loved Mauldin, but how could my heart include that much love for another child?  My parents had 3 girls.  I always knew they loved us equally.  I never felt like one was more loved than I, but how did they do it?  How did parents everywhere do it?  Were they just lying or was it really possible?

The night Elle arrived, Eric and I were watching the Bachelorette, a show I swear I will never watch again, but continue to get wrapped up in.  I had begun having contractions at 7:30, but they weren’t that strong.  I could talk through them and I swear Mauldin’s hurt a lot worse.  Eric insisted that we time them though.  By 8:30, they had been 5 minutes apart for 1 solid hour. 

“Okay, let’s go to the hospital.”  Eric looked over, expecting me to get up off the couch and follow his lead.  My mother was staying with us, so we didn’t have to worry about where to deposit Mauldin.

“Let’s wait until the Bachelorette is over.  I really want to see if Kasey leaves.  He really gets on my (contraction….) nerves.”  The look on my husbands face was priceless.  He looked to my mom for some backup.

“Laura, get up.  We are going to the hospital.  I’m not getting there only to hear the doctor say that you waited too long for the epidural.”

Reluctantly, I made my way upstairs and got ready to go.  Once we arrived at the hospital, I was 4cm dilated.  The doctor decided to break my water.  We were having a baby.  Again, my apprehension rose.  I couldn’t wait to meet my baby girl, but I hoped that what I heard was true.  That my love would equally split between my children.

By 4:15, we were ready to push.  As soon as she came out, the doctor turned her to face me.  At that moment I understood what so many parents had told me.  My love did not split.  My heart grew.  It grew to include her in it.  My daughter.  My precious angel.  My universe now included two suns to revolve around:  Mauldin and Elle.

We are home now and learning to adapt to a 15 month old and one week old.  It is not easy, but we are learning every day.  Mauldin loves his baby sister and likes to watch her sleep in the pack in play.  He also enjoys playing with all her new toys, which he most likely thinks are his.  My apprehension has melted is replaced my loved and extreme exhaustion, but such is the life of a parent.  I will get caught up on my sleep in about 20 years I guess.  Until then, we will just laugh our way through it and enjoy every minute.

“Da”

Eric follows as Mauldin crawls up the stairs for bath and bed time.  I’m still cleaning up the kitchen and wiping down the counters, trying to remove any trace of the plague that hit our household this past weekend.  After wiping the last stain of the counter, I make my way up the stairs to the sound of running water and giggling.  Eric already has Mauldin in the tub, so I move across the hall to turn the laundry over.

“I’m just not going to get any time with him tonight,” I sigh as I try to figure out how to fold the fitted sheet for our bed. 

“Well…Why don’t I finish his bath, and you can put him to bed.  I need to get to class anyway.”  Eric has class tonight, but he still had time to come home from work, eat dinner, and play with Mauldin before leaving.

“Okay.”  I finish with the laundry and Eric finishes with bath time.  Today, I didn’t get to leave work right away, which meant less time with my little boy.  We try to keep him on a routine, so even if we get home later than usually, bed time still remains the same.  The only time this changes is on the weekends, when he gets to stay up a little late.

After bathtime, Eric brings Mauldin into the nursery for me to get ready for bed. 

“Alright Babe, I gotta go.  Bye Mauldin.  Daddy loves you.”  With that, Eric leans over to give Mauldin a kiss, which Mauldin returns by peeing onto the floor.  Typical night

After getting Mauldin into his bedtime clothes and reading him a bedtime story, I lay him in his crib to go to sleep. 

“Night Night Mauldin.  Look…Sock Monkey is going to do Itsty, Bitsy for you.”  This means, I move Sock Monkey’s arms and sing Itsty, Bitsy Spider while Mauldin laughs.  “Okay, lay down.  Time for night night.”

At this point, I leave the room.  This is Mauldin’s cue to begin crying.  As I look on the monitor, I notice that Sock Monkey is no longer in the bed.  Niether Buzz nor Barney Bear.  I go into the nursery and on the floor are all three missing friends.  “Mauldin, you do not throw your friends out of the crib.”  I place them back in and leave.  Again, crying, and again, I look on the monitor.  This time, I see Mauldin going and picking up Sock Monkey and chunking him over the side.  I open the door to the nursery, and as I look in, there is Buzz in Mauldin’s hand. 

“Mauldin…No!!!  You do not throw your friends.”  Again I go in and pick up Sock Monkey and Buzz and put them back in the crib.  “Lay down…it’s night night.”

For a third time, I leave.  This time, I watch the monitor.  Just as expected, first goes Sock Monkey, then Buzz, and finally Barney Bear.  Then, I watch, as Mauldin gets quiet and begins watching the door.  I know he expects me to come in again and pick them up, but this time I am not.  Finally, he lays down.  I watch him toss and turn.  He obviously can’t get comfortable.  Finally, he sits up in the middle of his crib and begins to cry.  It’s a different sort of cry.  It’s no longer the “I’M NOT GOING TO BED AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME” cry.  It’s the “Mommy, I really need you” cry.

For a final time, I go in the nursery.  This time, I don’t fuss.  Instead I quietly pick up his friends and place them in the crib.  Then I pick up my little boy.  Instead of more tears, I get a hug.  Then, we sit in the rocker and rock, while he lays his head on my shoulders and plays with my hair.  Although Mauldin can’t tell me with his words, I can still feel it.  “Mommy, I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s hard buddy, but it’s bedtime and you have to go to sleep.  Mommy loves you very much.  I know that a lot is changing, but Mommy always loves you.  You will always be my precious little boy.”  We rock a little longer. “Mauldin, I think Sock Monkey is lonely.  I think he misses you.  Why don’t you lay down with him.  I think he will sleep better.”  I give my little boy one more kiss and lay him down.  He immediately curls up with his Sock Monkey.  I sneak out. 

Night, Night Sweet Boy…Night Night

This phrase has taken on new meaning to our family over the past few weeks.  Normally, if I heard this, there would be a list of things that had to get done (laundry, dishes, ironing, groceries…) that I just don’t have enough hours in the day for, but now when I say it, it means so much more.

Recently, a friend of ours lost her husband in a tragic accident.  I will not spend this time to go into details, because that is not what is important.  In a second, my friends life changed.  Imagine for a moment that a loved one (husband, boyfriend, sister, brother, cousin, friend) was facebooking, IMing, texting, or talking to you, and the next they were not. 

No notice given.  Time had stopped.

What was the last thing you did with them?  What was the last thing you said? 

Upon hearing about her loss, these were thoughts that entered my mind, and have stayed with me since.  I cried that day.  Not just over a tragedy, but my over my own selfish ways.  I played over in my mind rude comments I had made to others.  Snippy remarks I had made to my husband earlier in the week.  Time that I sighed when I was trying to do dishes and Mauldin was pulling at my leg for attention.  I always assume that there is more time, when in fact, I don’t know if there ever is.

When did life change so much, that time with others became something that we tried to fit in between the “to do’s” on the list.  When did we forget how much one word, one look, can hurt someone to the core, even if they smile and laugh it off.

There’s never enough time.  Remember that as you go to sleep at night.  Remember to say I love you one more time to those around you.  Remember to reach out to the person you normally keep at arms length.  Remember that the next time you say something you think you can apologize for later.

I’m normally not one to be preachy, and I’m sorry if tonight’s blog comes off that way.  These are just the thoughts that have been circling in my head since that day, and tonight, I was finally ready to share them.

I hope everyone has a wonderful night with their families.  Those of you with children, I hope you left that dirty dish in the sink tonight to get a few more minutes of snuggles.  Those of you who are married, I hope you left the ironing for another night, so that you could have some special moments with your spouse.

There is never enough time…so make the most of each second.

Voting began today and runs until next Friday.  You can vote once a day, so please go on and click! 

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Come on…You have to admit it…He’s one cute kid

“Vote for Me!!!”

I consider myself a pretty good cook.  In fact, my husband will attest that I can fix a great meal!  I love trying new recipes (whether they turn out or not), and most foods do not scare me.  We all have a list of careers that we would like to try.  A gourmet chef is one of mine. 

With that being said, there is a difference in being a good cook and a good baker.  A good baker, I am not!  There’s just too much measuring and exactness for me.  Baking takes WAY too much patience.  Cooking, I can be creative.  A pinch of this, a dash of that…Voila!!!  A mouthwatering masterpiece that can please a crowd.  A pinch of this and dash of that when you bake, and your cake…may just blow up in your face.

I know this, so why am I making yet another failed baking attempt???

Mauldin’s first birthday is this weekend, and with my Martha Stewart, I can do it all, attitude, I decided that I would make the cake!  Not just any cake mind you, a Buzz Lightyear Rocketship Cake.  I looked online at some ideas, found a couple, and printed out what I needed.  How hard could it be?!?  I’ve seen several friends make their children’s birthday cakes, and they turned out beautiful.  If they can do it…Surely I can. 

I had a whole scenario played out in my mind.  Guest would come in to our sparkling clean home and admire Mauldin’s Buzz Lightyear Rocketship cake. “Who made that?” they would ask me with a tone of awe in their voice.  Modestly, I would smile and say, “Oh, I whipped it up last night.  It was actually really easy.”

WRONG!!!

Guaranteed, I have all the right equipment.  I have the #1 Wilton cake pan, a carton of icing dye, a cake decorating funnel and tips, and a wonderful buttercream icing recipe.  Unfortunately, equipment doesn’t make the cake.

After TWO failed attempts at the rocket cake, I have decided to wave my white flag.  Normally, this would have resulted in a mini-breakdown, ice cream, and tears.  Not this time.  This time, I feel relieved.  Mauldin will enjoy his first birthday without his homemade birthday cake and I doubt he will need therapy later on because his mom just can’t pipe a star.

I am not a Cake Boss and I’m not Martha Stewart.  Thank God for Publix!!!

We wait patiently to hear it.  We make bets on what it will be, and the day it appears, the word sounds like music to our ears.

Mauldin’s first word was Dada.  Eric and I captured it on video as he crawled around the kitchen repeating it over and over again.

“Dada…dadadada…dada..da”

Now, Mauldin has a few words.  Of course, he says Dada, but he also says Daw, for dog, and some form of hello when he holds his play Mickey Mouse phone up to his ear.  The one word that I am craving for him to master, but he hasn’t yet is Mama. 

Mauldin likes to tease me.  “Mauldin, say Mama…mmmmmmama.”

“Dada,” he replies with his coy little smile.

“No, say mama….mama.”

“Dada.”  Then he precedes to let out giggle, like he knows how much it kills me that he won’t say it.

The only time I think I hear those magical words are when he is upset.  Case in point…bedtime this evening.

Eric was at class tonight, so it was my job to give Mauldin his bath and put him to bed.  Normally, this is Eric’s job, but tonight a mommy’s got to do what a mommy’s got to do.  We started with bathtime.  As I got the water ready, Mauldin occupied himself by flushing the toilet over and over again.  Every time it would actually flush, he would just let out a big grin and try again.  Once the water was ready, he got in the tub for playtime.  Bathtime is one of his favorite times of the day.  In fact, he loves to dunk his face in the water.  It made me so nervous at first, but as of yet, he has not drowned himself.  I can’t wait for the pool to open, and let him trying swimming again. 

After bath, then it’s lotion, pjs, read a story, and bed.  The entire time I got Mauldin ready he was smiley and happy.  Never once did I get a tear.  He listened intently to his story and helped me turn the pages as a read.  Finally, I stood up, gave him a kiss goodnight, and laid him down.  Immediately, the screaming began. 

Let me just say, that there is a difference between an I’m hurt scream, an I’m sad scream, and a I’m mad as %^&#@ scream.  Tonight I got the last one.  For a long time, I would not let Mauldin cry when we put him to bed.  Either Eric or myself would rock him until he was fast asleep.  Of course, this meant we were back up anytime he woke.  That routine ended a few months ago.  Most nights, Mauldin goes to sleep with no problem, but there are those times that things just don’t go as planned.  Tonight was one of those nights.  Tonight, Mauldin began a tirade of screaming at me how much he was not ready to go to bed,  how this was unjust and unfair treatment, and how he would not be laying down anytime soon, so I could just forget about it.  Then, I heard it…

“AHHHHHHHH…MAMA…AHHHHHHH!!!”

At first, I was amazed.  He actually said it.  Mama.  There it was, and how could I resist him.  I immediately ran in and picked him, and what did I hear next?

“Dada…Da…Di….Dada.”  Big smiles and all. 

“Did you call for Mama?”

“…Dada.”

So, no more Mama.  Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I swear I heard it. 

Tonight, I rocked my little boy to sleep.  I rubbed his back and kiss his tears away.  I sang him lullabies until his eyes closed and he drifted to dreamland.  My precious angel.  One day I will hear it again, and maybe the next time I’ll get a smile when he says it, and not a tear.

Two weeks ago, Eric and I took away Mauldin’s pacies.  It was a hard thing to do (more for us than for him), but we successfully made it through.  In all honesty, we only had one bad night and a few bad naps.  Mauldin has quickly adjusted to life sans paci, although he doesn’t go to sleep as quickly as he use to.

Why remove the pacie?

Well, several reasons. 

#1:  I don’t want him to be one of “those” kids.  You know what I’m talking about.  The ones that are just way too old to be sucking on a piece of silicon.  While we were at Disney in September, Eric and I were waiting for my family to come downstairs so that we could hop on a ferry for dinner.  As we were waiting, I looked over and noticed quite a large family coming up the railing.  With this  family, was quite a large 6, 7, or 8-year-old boy.  Hormones in the chicken make it so hard to tell a kid’s age these days.  As they walked up the walkway, the boy stopped to have his mother take a picture.  As he posed, the boy reach in his pocket to take something out.  A PACIE!!!  Then, after the picture, he continued to suck on the pacie as they made their way back to their room.  

Reason #2  Mauldin decided he no longer wanted a bottle.  The week before “Operation Pacie Removal” began, Mauldin, on his own, decided he no longer wanted a bottle, and instead would like to drink from a sippy cup.  After telling our daycare provider about this new accomplishment, she suggested that we also try taking away the pacie.  She said that some children put more emphasis on the pacie after the bottle is gone, and it can make it harder to take away.  Made sense to me, so, okay.

Reason #3  Mauldin is now prone to ear infections.  Since October, Mauldin has had one ear infection every month.  We get about one week of wellness before the next one begins.  I feel so bad for the little guy.  Not only do his ears hurt, but he can’t breath from the stopped up nose, and the antibiotics give him a horrible diaper rash.  After his last one in January, the doctor told us if he had one more they would refer us to an ENT.  It’s not that I’m opposed to tubes.  I know many children who have had them, my nephews included, but I want to avoid surgery if there is another solution.  So, there began my research.  Immediately, I found several sites that said that pacies can prolong and even cause more frequent ear infections.  That was enough for me!  “Operation Pacie Removal” was in full effect.

As I said earlier, Mauldin is now successfully pacie free and for the first week, cold and ear infection free too.  Everything was looking good until this week.  Tuesday night was like most nights.  After dinner, Eric gave Mauldin a bath, read him a story, and put him to bed.  Before he went to sleep, I stole my good night kiss, and left him until I woke him up the next morning.  The next morning, Mauldin woke up with a stuffy nose.  This was the first since “Operation Paci Removal” began.  My mom was watching Mauldin at home that day, so I left thinking everything should be fine.  At 12pm I got a text message “Mauldin just woke up from his nap.  He has a 1o2.8 fever.”  Great…just great!  Knowing my child, this had to be another ear infection.  I immediately got on the phone with the peditrician and made an appointment that afternoon after work.  As soon as our doctor looked in his ears it was confirmed.  The February ear infection had arrived and we were now going to have to see the ENT. 

Apparently removing a pacie is not the answer for every child.  Something else is the underlying cause of Mauldin’s problems.  I will say, his cold is much better.  Not nearly as severe as they have been in the past. 

We are still pacie free in the Skates’s household.  Of course, that will change in 4 months, when little Elle arrives.  That and a whole lot more

This weekend, we reach two milestones in the Skates family.  Mauldin recieved his first hair cut, and he got off the bottle. 

On Saturday morning, we got up and put on Mauldin’s best (a Superman T-shirt and red/blue running pants) to go see Mrs. Jennie about a trim.  Jennie cuts both Eric and I’s hair.  She does a wonderful job and actually has a little girl of her own that is only a few months younger than Mauldin.  For these two reasons, I completly trust her to take extremely sharp, pointy objects and attempt to snip delicatly fine strands of hair from the moving target that is my son. 

Getting ready for the first cut

Mauldin did a wonderful job.  He sat on my lap like a big boy in his cars cape and didn’t cry a peep as the spray bottle wet down the long strands of hair on top of his head.  The best way to get anything done with a child, deals with the art of distraction, so we handed him the waterbottle to look at.  This occupied him for a period of time while Jennie quickly snipped away.  In the end, it was decided that Mauldin gets his hair from his Daddy.  Already, at 10 months, he had to have the back of his head thinned out.  It was just too thick!

All in all, the hair cut was a success and Mauldin now looks like my handsome little boy and not so much my handsome little baby. 

All done

Not only did we get the big boy hair cut this weekend, but Mauldin also decided that he no longer needed a bottle and began drinking from a sippy cup.  I actually just put juice in the cup to see if he would like it.  Like it, he loved it.  My child is part merman.  Now with a sippy cup in hand, he is quite happy to be drinking all the time.   Water, juice, formula…he’s really not that picky.  In fact tonight, while putting him to bed, he was finishing his milk while  we read “I Love You Through and Through.”  By the end of the story, I could hear him sucking air.  No more milk.

“Alright baby, it’s all gone.  Time for night, night.”  I tried to remove the sippy cup, but he just held tighter.

“AHHHHHHHH”

“Mauldin, there isn’t anything left.  Time for bed.  You finished.”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

“Baby, no more…Give…Mommy… the sippy… cup.”  I finally removed his tiny fingers from the handles and took the cup away.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

At this point, I ran to the sink, got some water, and gave it back to him.  A few seconds later, he was perfectly happy and ready for bed.

Last night and tonight, I’ve worked at packing up all the bottles for Elle.  The art of the past-down has already begun.  This weekend, we will pack up the pacies for the “Paci Pirate.”

Everyday, my little man takes another step away from being a baby and another step toward being a toddler.